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watevermelon · 5 months ago

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Practiced Patience | Yandere Jing Yuan x Reader

✧ Summary: Close friends with members of the High-Cloud Quintet, you wished every day was filled with peaceful sunsets and drinks, even if you and Jing Yuan bickered at every occasion. Who would have known it would all come crumbling down?

➳ High-Cloud Quintet!Jing Yuan x Reader ➳ Notes: LONG ONE SHOT; Forced Relationship, Emotional, Dark Angst, Lemon with Plot, dubcon, possessive, abuse of authority, hate sex ➳ Navigation

You knew better than to trust someone like Jing Yuan.

Jingliu claimed he was nothing to worry about.

An ambitious boy with no known birthplace, a thorn in their side as he often bickered with the rest of the Quintet. But you knew what you saw, a quiet tactician more meticulous than the others gave him credit for.

You stood to the side, not as a member of their infamous group, but rather a friend to both Jingliu and Dan Feng. They were both private in their ways, but remained steadfast when their minds were focused on a mission. It was clear that it was working, notching many glorious victories under the belt.

With only one notable issue…

After each triumph, Jingliu and Dan Feng were unabashedly transparent in their feelings, their one weakness that never failed to elicit an amused roll of your eyes.

Nonetheless, you found yourself in the unofficial role as matchmaker of the hopeless High-Cloud Quintet. It was almost amusing, how you rushed to sit in the middle of the table and beckoned Jing Yuan to your side, forcing the two couples to sit together.

Jingliu shot you a withering glare that could have pierced steel, her warning palpable in the air. Meanwhile, Dan Feng and Yingxing exchanged a knowing glance before simultaneously rolling their eyes at your antics. Without missing a beat, they moved to sit together, Jingliu and Baiheng on the other side.

Whatever, at the end of the day, you were the successful one with each couple sat together instead of pretending that the last few days of pining looks and flirtatious quips were nothing. Another night under the moonlight with your friends - it was perfect.

“I must say, watching you scurry around like this is nothing short of amusing.”

Almost perfect.

“Must you, Jing Yuan?”

“What?”

“Mock me if you will, but they will appreciate it in time.”

Fortunately, the man remained silent, content to sip on his drink while his gaze remained fixed on you. Despite your attempts to feign disinterest by gazing up at the night sky, he refused to look away, the unwavering attention in your peripheral unnerving. Enduring Jing Yuan's company was a small price to pay if it meant facilitating the blossoming romance between your friends. Glancing to the side, you couldn't help but smile as you observed Dan Feng leaning closer into Yingxing's space.

You closed your eyes, allowing the moments to slip by as you savored the peaceful ambiance of the night, accompanied by the gentle sway of the breeze and the comforting presence of drinks in hand. Their voices, though soft-spoken, enveloped you in a comforting embrace as you absently listened to their murmurs with quiet reverence.

“And when will you finally appreciate my attention?” A sudden whisper startled you out of your reverie, the warmth of his breath against your ear sending a shiver cascading down your spine.

Time and time again, Jing Yuan had made his peculiar infatuation with you known, yet it remained just that — an infatuation, devoid of any deeper significance. You couldn't help but notice the way his gaze trailed up your form, lingering on the curve of your bosom with a hunger that bordered on unsettling.

“Back off, boy.” You stated clearly, quietly shoving him out of your space.

"You see me as a boy, but it's been quite some time since I've surpassed even you in height," Jing Yuan remarked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement and a touch of defiance.

He was right, undoubtedly so.

Yet, clinging to the image of him as the young boy who first joined the Quintet served as a tether, keeping you grounded amidst the whirlwind of his affections. Despite the low timbre of his voice and the undeniable presence of his newfound muscles, you refused to dwell on such details.

This was Jing Yuan, the boy who often found himself embroiled in arguments with the others — the very same one you staunchly refused to entertain any romantic feelings for.

Jingliu called you an idiot on multiple occasions, stating that there was nothing wrong with getting involved with the now up-and-coming warrior.

Jing Yuan was a far cry from the boy you met eons ago, but even back then he had already made a name for himself. A troop member who had somehow led a bloodless victory aboard the Navis Astriger. It was no surprise that he was appointed quickly to a position of importance within the Cloud Knights.

And while he and Jingliu were not particularly close, they had mutual respect for one another as mentor and student. She had mentioned to you multiple occasions that the warrior was not a bad catch.

Rumor had it that Jing Yuan was going to be named the Arbiter-General of the Luofu Cloud Knights, not that any of that mattered to you.

But your friend did not see it , not like you did.

Beneath the surface, beyond the facade of a valiant hero defending the Xianzhou, you sensed an unsettling undercurrent lurking behind his golden eyes. While he exuded an aura of bravery and strength, there was an undeniable sense of something darker, something twisted, concealed within the depths of his being.

As you held his gaze, peering into the abyss of his golden stare, you could not shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye — a darkness that whispered of hidden desires.

And worst of all, they were aimed at you.

“And yet just a boy you continue to be.” You gave him a scathing reply back, raising your glass to your lips as if bringing that conversation to an end.

But Jing Yuan easily captured it from your grasp, drinking the rest before asking. “And what must I do for you to see me?”

“There is nothing.” You said with an air of finality, standing from your seat and excusing yourself for a moment - not that the others noticed, now in their own worlds.

Thankfully Jing Yuan had not followed, instead continuing to stare at you as he drank from your glass.

There it was again.

You almost regretted rising from your seat, subjecting yourself once again to his unrelenting stare. There was a palpable appreciation in his gaze as it roamed over your standing form, tracing the lines of your long legs and lingering on the expanse of skin you exposed. Sensing his intent to meet your eyes, you swiftly pivoted on your heel and turned to walk away, leaving behind the weight of his scrutiny.

Whatever, asshole.

It was still a fine night, even if he openly leered at you with a clear intent that you decidedly ignored.

These moments were perfect, not even Jing Yuan could ruin them.

And while these nights usually unfolded this way, with banter exchanged between you and Jing Yuan, you cherished these moments with your friends.

You treasured Jingliu's gentle smiles toward Baiheng, like whispers of affection carried on the evening breeze. You adored watching Dan Feng's earnest attempts at being suave, his efforts endearing despite their failure. Yingxing’s soft smile in response, unfazed and full of quiet adoration, was like moonlight gracing the night.

These small interactions, these cherished bonds, were the heartbeats of your evenings together.

And sometimes, just sometimes , Jing Yuan was not so annoying as usual.

There were moments when he would casually throw an arm across the back of your seat and you would allow it. He would lean into your space, a smirk playing on his lips, his presence somehow both familiar and infuriating. Yet, inevitably, he would push the fold too far, his smirk widening just before you pushed him back, reclaiming your space and restoring the delicate balance of your dance.

At times Jing Yuan would surprise you. A cup of your favorite tea, one you had briefly mentioned in passing. The next book in a series you rambled about. A beautiful necklace from a merchant who was in town for only the weekend, one that Jing Yuan did not allow you to refuse.

Once you had even watched him train, watching the sweat trail down his muscular build as his hair bellowed in the wind. It took everything in you to fight down a rosy blush.

But that was…

Something you did not even want to acknowledge.

Anyway.

In the company of your friends, surrounded by the serene glow of the moonlight, you felt an overwhelming desire to freeze time and remain in this moment forever. With a drink in hand and laughter in the air, you cherished the bond you shared with the Quintet, longing for eternity in their companionship.

But nothing ever truly worked out the way you wanted it to.

Baiheng, your dear friend who wanted nothing more than to gaze upon endless stars, would never get a chance to even see the Astral Express.

She paid the ultimate price, sacrificing herself for the others in their fight against Shuhu.

“The so-called heroes of the Xianzhou… And yet we can do nothing for our friend.” Dan Feng complained constantly, “How useless these titles are now.”

You could not shake the worry gnawing at your heart for Dan Feng and his deteriorating mental state. Increasingly, he voiced his anguish over the ceaseless cycle of death wrought by war, his spirit weighed down by the heavy burden of loss.

The spark that once ignited Dan Feng's eyes whenever he discovered a new book or shared a captivating story had dimmed, overshadowed by the relentless pursuit of unattainable dreams. He seemed consumed by a fervor akin to madness, his mind teeming with theories and schemes to resurrect Baiheng into the waking world.

Each member of the splintered Quintet grappled with their own demons, their sorrow manifesting in different ways, hidden behind veils of stoicism. At least Dan Feng was willing to speak to you, Jingliu appeared as nothing more than a hollow shell, her once vibrant spirit dimmed by the weight of her burdens. Yingxing refused to leave Dan Feng’s side.

You turned to Jing Yuan, the usually aloof schemer, now consumed by grief as he withdrew into the confines of his office, reluctant to emerge.

Casting aside your own hesitation, you ventured to visit Jing Yuan late into the night, bearing a steaming cup of tea procured from Tingyun's shop not long ago. At the time, you had hoped to bring it along on a night of victory.

He stood at the window, a solitary figure silhouetted against the backdrop of the moonlit sky, his hands folded behind his back as he gazed into the abyss beyond. The office was devoid of any other presence, engulfed in a palpable silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Jing Yuan?” You broke out the moment, surprised that he hadn’t moved at your appearance.

With a flick of his wrist, Jing Yuan beckoned you over, his expression tight with emotion as he silently invited you to approach. You extended the cup of tea towards him and he accepted it with ease, taking the kettle from your hands and placing it on his desk without a care for the watermarks it would leave on the papers below.

He sipped the tea slowly, his gaze fixed once again on the night sky as you stood beside him at the window. Did he truly need or even want your company in his moment of grief? With not a word spoken between you, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you for not reaching out to him sooner.

“If you need anything Jing Yuan, I’m here for you.” You broke the silence.

His golden eyes cast a glance downward at you, cloudier than you had ever seen them before. Despite the heaviness weighing upon him, a flicker of affection still lingered in his gaze, one that had always been there. Perhaps, in your haste, you had been too harsh on him, failing to recognize maybe he did sincerely have feelings for you.

You could not help the blush that spread across your cheeks, having the unabashed attention of the warrior. “Jing Yuan?”

Setting the cup down on the desk, he enveloped you in his arms, pulling you into a tight embrace that seemed to swallow you whole. Your senses were overwhelmed by Jing Yuan's presence — from his musky scent that surrounded you to the warmth of his touch. Despite the flood of sensations threatening to engulf you, you pushed them aside, focusing instead on returning his embrace, wrapping your arms around his middle and holding him close.

You felt him bury his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if committing your scent to memory. It was a rare display of tenderness from Jing Yuan, perhaps the longest moment of gentle care he had ever bestowed upon you. It was always silly puns and flirtatious banter, never this new brand of sincere heartfelt affection.

In that fleeting instant, a wave of shyness washed over you, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment.

There was a sudden urge to pull away, but Jing Yuan moved to press his forehead against yours as he whispered. “If anything were to happen to you, I would not be able to take it.”

Your heart raced faster, his unexpected display of care contradicting the image of the young boy you had always perceived him to be. Even now, he loomed over you, his deep, husky voice sending a pang of want within your core.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently in place as he pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You stood frozen in shock, never having imagined that this unexpected turn of events would transpire when you visited him tonight.

As his lips met yours in a tentative kiss, you felt a flutter of uncertainty mingled with a growing curiosity, unsure of the depths of your own feelings for him. Before this he was the one you refused to glance twice at, but now there was too much -- too much grief to think clearly.

“Jing Yu--!” He interrupted your voice, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss and swipe his tongue across yours.

Yet, despite your hesitance, Jing Yuan's passion remained unwavering.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. This was not the time to be making moves like this - he was transferring his guilt and his grief into something that needed more time. But as you felt the heat of his touch searing through you, igniting an ignored fire deep within you, you found yourself yielding to the overwhelming tide of desire.

With a soft gasp, you surrendered to the kiss, allowing yourself to be consumed by the intensity of the moment. His tongue danced against yours in a fervent embrace, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. In that fleeting instant, doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the raw, unbridled passion that surged between you.

Jing Yuan lifted you effortlessly by the back of your knees, easily done with his strength. He gently placed you on his desk, the surface cool against your thighs. His actions were fervent, his desire unmistakable in the way he moved. Yet, despite the intensity, his touch remained surprisingly gentle.

He ravaged your mouth with his, his lips insistent and demanding, but tempered with a tenderness that belied the raw emotion of the moment. His hands cupped your face, fingers splayed along your jawline as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the contours of your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless. Each movement was precise and deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of your shared intimacy.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you responded to his lips, your own desire growing with each passing moment. The world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you, locked in an embrace of unspoken feelings.

The moment was laced with a gentle urgency, beckoning you to wrap yourself around him and return for more kisses. You leaned a hand on the table as he kissed at your neck, accidentally brushing the kettle off the desk and shattering it on the floor.

“Fuck.”

Jing Yuan's voice dropped to a husky whisper, "What an uncouth tongue. Shall I punish you for it?"

You smiled at his teasing, his usual banter back in full force. “Jing Yuan…”

“Say my name again, sweetheart.”

The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the warrior, illuminating his long white hair as you held each other in this surprising embrace. With only the soft glow to witness your intimacy, everything seemed perfect.

Yet, you knew the truth.

It was too soon to be acting like this — his actions were driven by grief rather than genuine connection.

Fighting the urge to widen your smile at his response, you placed two steady hands on his shoulders to catch his attention. “You… We shouldn’t have done this.”

His smirk faded, replaced by pinched brows, but his hands remained firm at your waist. “Do you regret being with me?”

“That’s not it at all. Jing Yuan, this is the grief speaking.” You immediately responded.

“No, no it’s not.” He was incensed immediately, running a frustrated hand through his long locs.

You tried to grab his arm, to bring him back to you. “Then let’s wait together. You fought side-by-side with Baiheng for decades, you need more time to grieve.”

“Can you not admit that our feelings for each other have been building this entire time, not just at a time of loss?”

For each other?

You hesitated, unable to refute his question in fear of making the situation worse. Before this moment, you refused to even entertain any romantic notion toward the warrior. It was always him, taking and taking until he hit a boundary you refused to let him cross.

It seemed your words were unnecessary, since the grimace on his visage grew.

“How could I forget? You still underestimate me like the others.” He spit out, frustration mounting in his voice.

“That’s not true, Jing Yuan.’

“Yes, it is. Otherwise, must you think my affection is fleeting? I have wanted to be with you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Then we should wait until after --”

“Why? Because you believe my sorrows have taken hold of me?” Jing Yuan was clear in his words, “Even now you think low of me, a boy unable to even sort out his own feelings.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Leave me. And do not return. It’s clear to me now that I love you, but I was nothing more than a passing fancy you enjoyed in your orbit.”

You whispered his name as he turned back to his place by the window, leaving you to sit dumbly at his desk. How had the argument progressed to this? To a nuclear proportion that he did not even want to glance in your direction?

A few minutes ago, you were lost in his touch and now Jing Yuan seemed to want nothing to do with you. Ashamed and saddened, you gathered yourself and left at his request.

Even if you wanted to make this right, to apologize and explain your thinking, the days to come were thrown into absolute turmoil.

To think it was Dan Feng that committed the unthinkable, attempting to resurrect Baiheng and betraying the whole of the Laoufu. And Yingxing, his closest confidant and possible love of his life, had even assisted him. Neither man had warned you of their plans that day, not even as it backfired in one of the worst ways possible.

You were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You were not a member of the High-Cloud Quintet.

You did not even have an elemental power granted to you by a path.

In the past, Dan Feng would offer to train you in case you needed it. But Jingliu had waved him away with a reassuring smile, saying that they would always be there to protect you anyway.

And yet here and now you were rendered flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you with scrapes littering your body. Phantom pain coarsed through every limb, making you question if your arm was even supposed to bend that way. With effort, one of your eyes struggled to open, but the pulsating pain in your head made it a daunting task. Despite the haze of agony enveloping you, you fought to grasp onto consciousness, struggling to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding right in front of you.

Jingliu's movements across the Scalegorge Waterscape were swift, but also tinged with a recklessness that you had not seen before. You found it challenging to even breathe, having been blasted in the air after Dan Feng’s failed experiment.

With each passing moment, the burden of his and Yingxing’s failure weighed heavier upon you, pushing your body to exhaustion as it tinged with an unending pain.

There was no doubt about it in your mind.

You were struck with mara.

Why?

Why had Dan Feng betrayed his closest companions?

You doubted you were the only one with this new curse.

Yingxing was never one for the front-lines, usually a presence with the other military engineers. And yet you watched as a savage look overtook his visage and he wielded his hammer against the Cloud Knights.

You barely caught a glimpse of Dan Feng being led away in chains, Jing Yuan declaring his crimes just a few steps behind. To your shock, the Cloud Knights then turned their attention to you, hauling you off the ground and listing off accusations as you were dragged away to prison alongside him.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the solitude of the prison cell weighed heavy on your spirit. There was no one by your side, no friendly faces to offer solace. The smaller cuts and bruises that adorned your body had been tended to, evidence of some form of care during your unconsciousness. Yet, as you cursed your own helplessness, a sense of frustration and despair settled in your bones. You were powerless here, unable to flee, unable to prevent Dan Feng's actions, and now trapped in the confines of this unforgiving prison.

The guards whispered of the unforeseen events, the heroes of the Xianzhou now a taboo topic - one dead, two in exile, and the catalyst of their ruin in his own cell somewhere in this very building.

And Jing Yuan, somehow now the Arbiter-General of the Luofu Cloud Knights.

The guards of your cell refused to speak to you, ignoring your pleas to even identify your accused crimes or to get in contact with a Master Diviner. This felt surreal, unjust. You had never assisted Dan Feng in his plans, and if you had known of his intentions, you would have done everything in your power to stop him. Desperation clawed at you as you tried to reason with the unyielding guards, your voice echoing futilely in the cold, unfeeling corridor.

Days, if not weeks, passed in the cold, unending prison. Isolation gnawed at you, the silence suffocating. You hadn’t spoken to anyone and your mental state frayed more each day, teetering on the brink of breaking entirely. Despair settled in, a heavy blanket that dulled your senses and made time blur into a continuous, agonizing stretch.

“How pitiful you have become.”

You blinked up at his tall stature.

Jing Yuan.

Of all people to come to your lone cell.

“To think I held love for you in my heart.” He spat out, “You aided the traitor of the Xianzhou.”

“I never helped Dan Feng in his great sin.” You defended yourself, “And if you truly knew me like you claimed to, you would know that.”

"You dare turn on the one willing to hear you out?" Jing Yuan taunted, his voice dripping with cold truth. "There are a few who claim to have seen you assist Dan Feng.”

“That’s not true!”

“So all of them are lying?”

You shook your head and turned, “Of course you would not believe me.”

Jing Yuan scoffed, “Is my presence here not tantamount to my desire to see you? There is no one else here. No one else to turn to. In all your years of loyalty to the Xianzhou, only I am willing to listen to your defense."

His words echoed in the cell, a cruel reminder of the precariousness of your situation. His eyes bore into yours, challenging and unyielding, leaving you to grapple with the bleak reality of your circumstances.

“And what? If I can’t convince you?”

“Then you will be exiled, like the others.”

Exiled.

To work as a slave for the IPC or end up in some other clutches, far from your home.

You felt useless, unable to fight. Unable to defend yourself.

"Nothing to say?" Jing Yuan's voice carried a mocking edge, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

You were always quick with your rebuttals, but now? Now that your life hung in the balance, at the mercy of someone who seemed to want nothing to do with you? He had already cast aside his closest friends; what fate awaited you?

“Then offer me one last favor Jing Yuan -- kill me.”

That was clearly not the response he was expecting. Surprise flickered across Jing Yuan's face, momentarily breaking his stoic demeanor.

Why should he be surprised?

As a Xianzhou native, you were destined to live hundreds of years of this now pitiful life. And to think that now you were struck with mara at such a young age. If you were to get caught up with the IPC, would you become their workhorse for centuries if not all of eternity? How long would it be before you decayed into a shell of who you were with nothing but a debt hanging over your shoulder?

It would mean bidding farewell to the life you once knew, condemned to an existence devoid of purpose, unable to end it even if you wished to.

“What?” His voice broke you, “You would rather die than beg me for your life?”

“You already hate me, don’t pretend. This outcome has already been decided. And if I were cast aside from the Alliance, it would be a death sentence that I would be unable to claim.” You scoffed, one last rebuttal that you could afford.

Jing Yuan remained silent, a storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes. You could discern a few - confliction, surprise, but mostly anger simmering just beneath the surface. Had he not known that you were struck with mara?

He stepped up to the bars of the cell, “I could never hurt you.”

“Someone can.” You refused to look at him, furious at his attempt to capitalize on your lowest point. “Make the funeral private, at least.”

The general remained at the prison bars, his presence looming over you like a shadow. Despite your refusal to engage further in conversation, his imposing figure seemed to fill the room with an unspoken tension. The realization of your irreversible fate struck you like a hammer blow.

If you were to be exiled from the Xianzhou, who else could comprehend the curse that had befallen you? With each passing century, you would grow and mutate, becoming a grotesque monster. Eventually, even the simplest acts of thought would be beyond your reach, leaving you trapped in a nightmarish existence for eternity.

You would rather end it now than be trapped in a body that would never die.

A young diviner was the next to visit you. She made it known she was only here at General Jing Yuan’s request, attempting to scry into your past to help prove your innocence at the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae.

(A part of you found it holy ironic. The Quintet had served the Alliance for decades as their hero, but now all they would be remembered for is a single person’s moment of weakness.)

And yet…

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing of use for your trial.”

“Nothing?”

“It seems you were rather close to Dan Feng… Including the early days of when he first concocted the idea of his sin.”

“I was always close to Dan Feng.” You argued, “It was not a secret that I was a friend to all the members of the Quintet. What of the people who claimed to see me during the incident? Why are they claiming something they never saw?”

The diviner glanced at the guards briefly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It is a member of the Quintet who is citing your involvement.”

What?

Who?

Forget it, now was not the time to be dwelling on that. You had her attention now, perhaps the only time you would be allowed to speak to the diviner. You had one more question to ask, one more selfish request despite all he had put his friends through.

“What about asking Dan Feng himself, surely he can prove I was not involved?”

Immediately, her face looked conflicted, a frown deepening the lines around her mouth as she considered how to respond to your question. Her eyes darted away from yours, searching for the right words or perhaps the least painful truth.

“Dan Feng no longer exists.”

No.

She jumped at your outcry, a harsh wail contrasting her previously soft tone of voice. You did not blame her when the diviner made a swift exit after. There wasn’t much else she could do anyway, leaving you to wrestle with your anguish alone.

The room seemed to close in on you, each shadow deepening the sense of despair. You were left with your thoughts, heavy and suffocating, attempting not to think of the molting rebirth your friend was possibly forced through.

Dan Feng had been your friend.

And now he no longer existed.

How long ago had it been since you were joking around with him and Yingxing, sharing quiet moments as the sun dipped below the horizon? That memory felt like a distant dream now, tinged with the bitter sting of reality.

You cried endlessly, your tears only a single drop of your despair; how you wished fervently for the clock to strike backwards. To think that the kind-hearted Baiheng had sacrificed her life for her closest companions, only for her noble act to be twisted into the catalyst for one's descent into betrayal and madness.

How could life be so cruel?

Tears flowed incessantly, streaming down your cheeks like a relentless downpour, transcending even the hours that you wallowed in your grief. The guards complained at your wailing, but you ignored them in your unending sadness.

But not even you could ignore a phantom touch that gently caressed the crown of your head. Blinking through the haze of your tears, your vision blurred by the curtain of familiar white hair that surrounded you. His lips brushed against your forehead again, a tender gesture that stirred confusion.

Jing Yuan in all his glory, inside your cell and offering small kisses to your person.

What the fuck was he doing here?

“You could have it all back — your family, your life here on the Xianzhou.” He murmured between open-mouth kisses, “I promise I will do everything in my power to take care of you.”

Jing Yuan.

Presumably the last remaining member of the Quintet still on the Laoufu.

Both Jingliu and Yingxing fled the Alliance the moment they were called to be imprisoned. Dan Feng was long gone. None of them would even have the chance to implicate you.

Jing Yuan.

The one person who could benefit from your imprisonment.

You had nothing to offer - you were not a legendary artisan like Yingxing or a formidable fighter like the others. Jingliu had always joked that you were under her protection, if anything were to come to pass, that she would always be there for you. But now she was gone and Jing Yuan’s authority was unchecked.

The boy they argued with ceaselessly.

The one whom many constantly underestimated, as if he had not already proven the power of his meticulous schemes.

He was the cause of this.

You had no proof, but the warning bell in your gut was at full blast as he attempted to lay more kisses on your person.

The general was the only one with the authority to let you out of this dreary cell. And time and time again, Jing Yuan had made it known exactly what he wanted from you. Except now, you could no longer deny him.

Jing Yuan had truly ripped apart every last defense you had.

Face exile from the Laofu, left to wander the cosmos forever as either a slave and eventually a monster. Or, be subject to his every whim and want.

Everything came with a price.

What must you pay?

You felt the heat emanating from Jing Yuan's body as he drew you closer, your lips meeting with a hunger that spoke of desires long held under the surface.

His tongue met no resistance, roughly exploring past your lips to get you to succumb to his advances. The sound of your shared breaths, ragged and hurried, filled the air between you, punctuated by hungry moans. A hand threaded through your hair, holding you fast as your lips clung to each other, each kiss a promise and a plea.

But how could you forget the true reality around you - this dingy prison cell where the person you felt the most conflicted for held the key. And with each second, he tempted you into this swirling vortex of his carnal hunger, the slickness of your mixed saliva and the dizzying sensation of his lips a constant reminder of what he truly wanted.

It was clear the silent command he was giving you.

He had the power to grant you your life back.

And if you wanted it, you needed to work for it.

That look on his face, the one that Jingliu refused to see, returned back in full force. It was predatory, charged with a lust that had long been at bay. And now, Jing Yuan held the reins, his eyes gleaming as he finally claimed the upper hand.

You hated him.

Why was he the only thing you had left?

Had he planned this all along?

All you felt was molten fury, wanting to spit at his face and push him aside.

You surrendered to his embrace, reciprocating his kiss with a fervent response. Waving that internal white flag, Jing Yuan had all but broken down every last barrier in a total victory. His tongue explored every contour of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, as if staking a possessive claim over your very essence.

Suddenly he pushed you down with an unexpected force, the impact jolting through your body as you landed flat on your ass, the rough surface grazing your already tattered clothing. Gasping, you barely had a moment to gather your thoughts before the general followed suit. With Jing Yuan’s knees on either side of your hips, he loomed over you, his presence dominating as his lower garments were pushed down further and further.

Your mind teetered on the brink between shock and arousal, allowing only seconds of thought before Jing Yuan had unapologetically held his cock inches from your face.

The veins, engorged and pulsating, seemed to dance beneath his velvety, erect flesh. The prominent ridge glistened with a bead of pre-cum, its presence nearly tangible in the charged air. The sight of it, so close to your face, ignited a primal fire within you. And without thought, you licked at your lips, a reflexive reaction to the sudden craving for the taste of him.

You had rejected him, constantly.

Refused to look in his direction.

And yet here you were, eyes drinking in every nuance and curve of his bold offering.

The general’s smirk deepened, a predator reveling in the sight of his prey's desire. With a firm grip carding through your hair, he roughly forced your head closer to the throbbing, tenacious length of his cock. He was surprisingly gentle as he rubbed his hard dick against your face - the hot, slick flesh slapping against your skin.

For so long you only had biting words and quick rebuttals, calling him nothing more than a boy for decades.

Even if you gave up your body to him, there was still that undeniable indignant look on your face as he rubbed his hard length against your skin. Jing Yuan would give anything to be in your head right now, imagining all the scathing words that you were surely throwing at him with each passing second.

He had broken your defenses, ruined all your plans to keep him at bay.

The general’s eyes glimmered with dark satisfaction at the sight of your submission. The absence of your fiery verbal retorts, the hallmark of your indomitable spirit, struck an unexpected chord within him.

He wanted more.

Jing Yuan wanted to ruin you.

Being gentle and kind did nothing, falling only on deaf ears. It was only when you were cornered, trapped and alone, did you finally take a second glance in his direction.

You could barely manage tentative, small licks at the head of Jing Yuan's throbbing cock. The salty taste of his arousal danced on your tongue. With an unrelenting yet deliberate force, he pushed your head further, forcing you to take more of his length between your lips. The intrusion stretched you, cheeks hollowing as you struggled to accommodate him.

The general’s eyes raked over your flushed features, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the slight tremor that followed his shallow thrusts. How many nights had he imagined this very sight? From under his desk to the soft sheets of his bedroom, Jing Yuan must have thought of taking you over a thousand times. The dreams of you disheveled beneath his touch was nothing compared to the submissive, wide-eyed expression you were shooting him now.

Jing Yuan knew that your apparent submission to him was nothing but a ruse, glimmers of defiance still shimmering in your gaze. He could almost hear the torrent of curses that must have been flung his way in the privacy of your thoughts. And oddly enough, the knowledge that you were harboring this fierce, passionate hatred for him held a perverse allure for Jing Yuan. He wanted to hear every venomous word from your lips, more passionate than he had ever seen you.

It was better than the cold vacuum of indifference.

“Choke on my cock, sweetheart.”

You let out a small, involuntary moan, embarrassed at how his harshness had ignited a fierce pang of want in the pit of your stomach. The sight of Jing Yuan's triumphant smirk only served to stoke it further, pushing your head down as he forced you to accept his length more fully.

Each time you tried to pull back, his hips would follow, driving himself deeper. There was no fighting his strength, especially as he loomed over you with his cock down your lips.

It was obscene, the guttural sound of his hard length entering your mouth. Your hands flew to his stomach, open palms against his clothes as he overwhelmed your senses. But it hardly held him back, more and more inches disappearing behind your lips.

“Mhmmm—!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to return the favor later.” He murmured appreciatively, enjoying the view.

Unable to resist, you could not help but look up at him, eyes locking as he rushed to thrust impossibly deeper. You regretted the eye contact a second later, since you felt his cock twitch in your mouth at the connection. Of course he loved any amount of attention you would give him.

He was insatiable.

And you had been making him worse and worse, a ticking time bomb until he could forcibly stake his claim.

You could only imagine what you looked like, panting like a whore in need as you choked on his cock, the only one you had ever sucked.

He fucked your mouth like a hole, eyes rolling heavenward as he was relentless in his movements. You could barely move your tongue, his thrusts merciless even in the face of your tears. Even worse, shame pooled in your stomach as you felt slick pool at your cunt, turned on somehow by his rough handling.

The general lifted a knee upward, forcing an even deeper angle down your throat as tears trailed down your cheeks. The sudden, brutal change in position left you gagging, throat constricting in a futile effort to resist the invasion.

You nearly screamed for mercy before he pushed you off entirely, barely catching yourself with outstretched palms on the floor.

“I hate you.” You spit out, unable to stop yourself.

But his smirk only grew, gentle hands methodically peeling each article of clothing from your body. The tattered garments, your last vestiges of dignity, fell like a rain of defeat to the cold, unyielding floor of the prison cell.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Pride all but shattered, you could only do as he asked as he maneuvered you facing the prison bars. Your palms were splayed out on the rough ground, knees digging into the uneven crevices of the prison.

The bed was for lovers, Jing Yuan was fucking you like a whore.

A cacophony of curses raged in your mind. Your fury, however, faltered at the sound of a throat clearing, the interruption echoing past the prison bars. The realization of the two guards flanking the door, their attention fixed on the wall in the distance, weighed heavy on your heart. They could not see you, but surely they could hear every single moan and movement.

Fear prickled at the base of your spine, a reminder that your forced intimacy was not as private as you had initially presumed.

Truly, there was no one in the entirety of the Xianzhou who was on your side.

Not anymore.

Your eyes, now wide with apprehension, flickered from the guards to Jing Yuan, uncertainty and trepidation clouding your gaze. And, of course, what had the asshole done? The general simply kept on smirking, that infuriating look on his face making it clear he knew about your worry.

“All will know that you are mine.”

He shoved you further, head down ass up as he kneeled down behind you. You expected more rough handling, a vicious cock down your hole at best. But instead a soft, wet appendage rubbed about your clit. You whined in surprise as he licked your lower pearl, fingers trailing circles along your entrance.

The last thing you expected him to do was give you any pleasure, focused solely on him.

His fingers, trailing gentle circles around your now-sensitive entrance, left you on the precipice between shock and arousal. The change in his demeanor, from the strong general to a teasing lover, left your heart racing, your body caught between desire for his touch and the lingering fear that their privacy was a fragile, fleeting illusion.

“ This is my greatest treasure.” He clarified, his breath felt right on your skin.

You groaned once more, feeling him lick and prod at your hole.

You could endure his rough handling and harsh words, but Jing Yuan’s version of love was a torment of another kind. It was a twisted, sinister force, dark and corrupted. Each kiss carried a haunting shadow, every touch a reminder of the darkness entwining his affection.

His love was a cruel paradox, making you question every moment of tenderness you shared in the past.

Jing Yuan cradled the skin of your hips gently, his fingers delving into your velvety depths with a tenderness that was both unexpected and disconcerting. His thumb, circling your engorged clit, teased a sweet, exquisite ache, while his tongue flicked at your entrance in delicate, probing motion, each touch drawing a guttural moan from your parted lips.

The gentle invasion of both digits and tongue, however, was hard to deny. The pleasure that blossomed within you fought against even your mental resistance. Fear and lust mingled, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice.

In this quiet moment, the only sounds were your ragged moans, the soft wet suction of his mouth, and the squelching of his fingers entering and withdrawing from you. The tenderness of his actions made you squirm uncomfortably, expecting more from the general.

But Jing Yuan was deliberate in his slow actions, tongue dancing along the contours of your clit, and eliciting delicious shudders through your quivering body. Your thighs trembled, the muscles tensing around his head as he feasted on you, savoring the sight of your body succumbing to the ebb and flow of his expert touch.

“Please--!”

“Please what, my love?”

But you refused to answer further, choosing instead to roll your hips, your body pleading for more of his touch. Jing Yuan reveled in the attention, the desperate plea in your voice only fueling his satisfaction. His fingers moved with swift purpose, exploring your depths until only his knuckles remained outside your messy hole.

“More, more!”

You teetered on the edge of begging, your parted lips dripping with saliva as you struggled to contain yourself. Jing Yuan heard your desperate pleas, but for whatever reason refused to yield to your words. Each repetition of his name escaped your lips like a fervent prayer, punctuated by the rhythm of your shallow breaths. The sound elicited a guttural moan from him, a raw expression of arousal as his tongue danced tantalizingly over your lower pearl.

“Who do you belong to?”

You were keenly aware of the answer Jing Yuan desired and the allure to comply with his wishes was almost overwhelming. He had you panting, your breath hitching in your throat as you eagerly rolled your hips back in time with his fingers, craving every inch of his touch. With each movement, you were propelled closer to the precipice of ecstasy, your body trembling with anticipation. His tongue traced rough circles on your pearl, each stroke igniting a fiery wave of pleasure that surged through your veins. You were on the cusp of climax, your hips rolling in rhythmic harmony with his touch as you chased the elusive edge of release.

“Who do you belong to?” The general asked again.

He had your body.

The only thing you could afford left was your mind, and stupidly you refused to give in.

“ No one .” You barely uttered a response, stubborn even as you panted like a bitch in heat.

“No one, huh?” Jing Yuan chuckled, not surprised by your continued resistance.

He would enjoy making you take that back.

Your whines of frustration filled the air as he abruptly ceased his actions, leaving you dangling on the precipice of cumming. You were on the brink of finishing, the tantalizing edge of release just within reach. His chuckle cut through the silence, mocking your desperate movements as you shamelessly thrust your hips towards him, consumed by a primal need to release the building tension.

With a firm grip, he lifted your hips, pressing your front against the unforgiving ground as you struggled to muster the strength to support yourself. The unmistakable sensation of his cock against your backside sent a pang of short-lived happiness, his arousal pressing against the tender skin of your ass, a silent promise of what was to come.

Your desperate whimpers filled the air as his girthy length continued to evade you, teasingly rubbing against your heated skin. A surge of need flooded through you as he toyed with your clit, his hand wrapping around your front to caress your cunt with tantalizing strokes. With agonizing slowness, he traced the outline of his erect cock against your slick entrance, each time making you moan. The teasing friction left you trembling as you yearned for him to finally plunge into you fully.

“Please more--!”

“Perhaps you can take a lesson in patience.” He murmured against you, leaning in to plant kisses along your back. His white hair grazed your skin, causing an involuntary tremble to ripple through you.

“Need more, please please please…” You repeated absently.

“Then give yourself fully to me.” He commanded.

But you, in your stupid brain, refused yet again to give in.

With calculated precision, Jing Yuan teased the head of his shaft at your entrance, eliciting gasps of pleasure from both of you. The yearning for more was undeniable, a mutual desire to envelop him whole.

His heated moan reverberated in your ear, sending waves of arousal through your body as his free hand explored your form. With a fierce grip, Jing Yuan seized the soft skin of your breast, his touch both demanding and electrifying. With each shallow thrust, his urgency grew, pressing against your skin with an intoxicating intensity.

“Give in, my love.” He whispered in your ear hotly, his deep voice making you clench around nothing. “I am the only one who can make you feel this good.”

You shook your head in denial, but you were unable to convince even yourself anymore that this was the right choice.

“Fine, I can make this night much worse for you.”

Before you could even rethink your refusal, Jing Yuan seized your hips once more, exerting pressure to push the plush curves of your ass together as he slid his hard cock between them.

“Wait-!”

You wanted to scream as he rubbed his cock against between your ass cheeks, the sensation brought little pleasure for you. The only source of arousal stemmed from his wandering hand, which continued to caress circles on your sloppy clit.

“This is enough for me, is it enough for you?” Jing Yuan goaded you, still an asshole even as he slowly lost himself to your body.

His escalating moans filled the air, matching the quickening rhythm of his thrusts against the skin of your ass. The sight of him, sweaty and panting, was undeniably enticing, his deep voice resonating as he indulged in pleasure. The seductive allure of his arousal made you yearn for more, already regretting the decision to withhold your answer.

“Please, I take it back! I take it back…!”

He ignored your pleas and thrust against you with a relentless force, showing no signs of stopping. The general harshly pulled your waist back to meet his hips, rubbing the contours of your ass against his throbbing cock. The controlled rhythm of his thrusts dissolved into frantic urgency, his panting breaths a sign of his hurried pursuit of release.

In a final act of cruelty, Jing Yuan positioned himself at your entrance and prodded the head of his shaft at your tight entry. Immediately you clamped down on him, receiving a moan in response as you wanted nothing more than to be fucked.

Finally were you about to experience relief?

Or was he about to--?

“Jing Yuan…!”

His cock pierced you with little reprieve, the slap of his balls against your thighs as his warm essence spilled into you. You were hardly close to the end, having been denied by the pause of his teasing hands. His hips pressed firmly against yours as he reached the peak of his ecstasy, an uncomfortable wave coursing through you like a sudden tide.

Jing Yuan indulged in a few more shallow thrusts, relishing the sensation of your hot pussy clamping down on his cock. You could not ignore the uncomfortable sensation of his cum dripping out of your hole, surprised at how much he released inside you. Despite the lingering need for more, you doubted that anything less than total surrender on your part would be acceptable to him.

“Have you made up your mind? If not, I’m not against pushing together your tits and making you watch as I fuck your--”

“Fuck me, Jing Yuan.”

The general notably paused, gently lifting you by the waist to face him. You were effortlessly drawn into his lap, his powerful arms guiding you as you instinctively wrapped yours around his neck. Close to him now, his voice was low and intimate as he spoke.

“What was that, my love?”

“My body belongs to you, do whatever you want with me.”

“Uh-uh, that’s not the right answer and you know it.” He tsked at your words, “You know what I want. Give all of yourself to me.”

You pouted at the general, always astute even as he was losing his sanity.

“All of me is yours.”

“And all of my love is yours.” He replied back, connecting your lips together in a much more intimate embrace.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as he kissed you, his lips fervently exploring your skin. He feasted on you, leaving red splotches along your neck and collarbone before descending lavish attention to the soft skin of your nipple. A moan escaped your lips at the sensation, earning a reciprocal groan from Jing Yuan as he reveled in the pleasure you shared.

“ Fuck .” The general murmured this time, a wandering hand going to your pussy to rub circles there yet again.

His firm fingers, hard and calloused from battles, circled your entrance, feeling the remnants of his earlier creampie drip out of you. A moan of appreciation escaped Jing Yuan as he pushed some of his cum back in, eliciting a mixture of surprise and pleasure from you. Despite the odd sensation, he silenced any protests with his passionate tongue on yours.

At the end of your sanity, you rolled your hips against his in a desperate plea to finally feel his hard cock inside you. His groan of approval echoed loudly in the room, happy to see you finally take some initiative.

“Fuck yourself on me, my love.”

Not one to be told twice, you aligned yourself with his erect length and immediately shoved yourself downward.

A simultaneous groan of pleasure escaped the both of you as you joined together, throwing your head back as you barely managed to maintain your grip around his neck. Jing Yuan enveloped your nipple back into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin as you lifted your waist up and down, setting a rhythm that drove you both to new heights of ecstasy.

“That’s it; lose yourself to me.” He encouraged you loudly, his moans resonating in your ear, yet you reciprocated with equally vocal responses.

You watched as even he arched his head backward in sheer pleasure, his eyelids fluttering as he stared at your bouncing tits. With every movement, you fought the urge to release a scream, the sensation on the verge of overwhelming you completely. Sensing your desperation, he effortlessly lifted his hips to meet yours, assisting you as you rode his length up and down.

It was hard to remember your hatred for him as he brought you to new heights never seen before. His long cock hit all the right places, prominent veins running against your slick walls. It beckoned you to give in, to lose yourself and beg for his cum.

Your body glistened with a sheen of sweat, legs locked around his hips as your core enveloped his leaking cock. The cell was alive with the primal sounds of your coupling, the slap of flesh against flesh punctuating the air in a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of your heart. Encouraged by his support, Jing Yuan intensified the rhythm, urging you to delve deeper and move faster, propelling you both towards the edge of euphoria with each relentless thrust.

“I’m.. close! More more more…!” You babbled without thought, making his dick twitch at your unabashed whine.

“Cum around my cock.” The general urged you on, “My sweet, sweet love.”

The frenzied pace of your hips accelerated, bodies colliding in an undeniable chase of raw want. In that moment, time seemed to stretch and warp, as the crescendo of your climax blinded you like a flash of lightning. The world around you dissolved, leaving your body to writhe and buckle under the euphoric onslaught. The spasms of your orgasm rippled through you, each contraction of your inner walls like a vice around Jing Yuan's shaft.

You felt your essence mix in your belly, spilling out as Jing Yuan continued in his onslaught. You cried out in a mixture of pleasure and new pain, your senses overwhelmed by the stimulation as he continued to fuck your womb with unbridled fervor, treating you like an abandoned, wet hole. Desperately, you pushed at his hard abs, pleading for him to cease, but he remained undeterred, thrusting into your pussy with the unstoppable determination of a man possessed.

“Less, less! No more Jing Yuan!” You begged between tears.

“You gave yourself up to me. Which means I decide when you are done.”

“Wha…”

“Open your mouth.”

You mechanically followed his request, your body bouncing in rhythm with each forceful thrust into your tight cunt. The inches of his hard cock rubbed deliciously against your velvety walls; you barely grasped his movement as he leaned closer, his dominance palpable as he spat down your throat. It was a visceral display of his control, leaving you breathless under his commanding presence.

You swallowed his saliva without question, your mouth opening wider as if beckoning more. His moan of approval reverberated throughout the room. Meanwhile, his cock appeared to swell even larger inside your sloppy pussy, responding eagerly to your submissive display.

Possessed to get a deeper angle, he seized your hips and swiftly flipped you around, placing you on your back on the unforgiving ground. You grimaced momentarily at the sudden movement, but before you could protest, he lifted a single knee to rest on his shoulder, positioning himself for better access. The angle was torturous, his thrusts delving further inside you, amplifying the already heightened sensitivity of your dripping wet pussy.

“Jing Yuan…!” You repeated his name continuously, singing high praises that stoked his ever growing ego.

“What do you want me to do, my love?”

“Cum inside me..!” You screamed out this time, sure that all the other prisoners could definitely hear you.

He smiled like a man overtaken by desire, before crashing his lips onto yours, a hand behind your head steadying you against him. Lost in the overwhelming pleasure, you could barely respond to his open mouth kisses. The harsh slap of his balls against your skin barely registered amidst the cacophony of pleasure coursing through you. All your focus was on the hard length of his shaft disappearing further into your eager cunt, each thrust driving you further into a blissful oblivion.

All you could hear was your name, spilled eagerly from his lips.

It was somehow too much and not enough, all at once.

He maneuvered another one of your legs above his shoulder, ensnaring you in an unyielding mating press from which there was no escape. Drool escaped your mouth as he thrust downward into you, his movements devoid of rhythm as he relentlessly pursued his own climax. Your shared essences splashed disgustingly with each roll of his hips, the slick sounds loud as his cock pierced you. He was a man driven solely by desire, his golden eyes darkened as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

Abruptly, Jing Yuan's body stiffened, his hips jerking forward to press against yours. Once again, he released his hot cum deep within your stuffed pussy, the scorching liquid overflowing into your womb and cascading onto the floor below in a torrential rush. You felt many dribbles down and across your trembling thighs. Despite your overflowing cunt, Jing Yuan refused to part, plugging up your still-quivering entrance.

“I love you more than I know how to love. And I will spend every day reminding you of that fact.” He murmured on your skin, breath warm as he spoke.

Your senses returned to you immediately, a wave of shame and embarrassment washing over you. You berated yourself for succumbing to Jing Yuan's advances, feeling foolish and naive for allowing him to cloud your judgment. There was no way the general would ever let you forget the day you begged for his cock like a whore.

And now, it was highly possible that this coupling would connect your fates together in a future child forevermore.

The weight of regret must have been evident on your face, as Jing Yuan responded by rolling his hips and pressing his lips to your neck in a tender gesture. Despite the discomfort brewing in your lower regions, he only responded with a deep, satisfied moan, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil raging within you.

You were in awe at the sudden realization.

There was undoubtedly still a hard, erect cock inside you.

“Oh my god.” You could not help but comment.

“Perhaps I am better off fucking you within an inch of your life?” He punctuated his question with another shallow thrust, “This seems more to your liking than gestures of my love and affection.”

You hated him.

You hated how well he knew every inch of your soul.

And you especially hated how the veins of his cock felt against your messy pussy.

But Jing Yuan remained indifferent to your pleas.

He was determined to demonstrate just how much he loved and wanted you, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. Despite your constant begging for reprieve, for him to pause and give you a moment's respite, Jing Yuan showed no signs of stopping. He continued to fuck you relentlessly on the floor, heedless of your tears. He lifted you against the wall next, adjusting your legs wide above his shoulder to reach an even deeper angle.

“No! No more please…!”

“I will make you regret ever seeing me as less than a man.” He whispered against your skin, balls slapping against you.

And you cried even more as he brought you to the bars of your prison cell. Your heart sank as you caught sight of the guards stationed at your door, the sole witnesses to the scene unfolding before them. Desperately, you begged Jing Yuan to stop, to consider the audience to his actions, but he remained unfazed. With a callous disregard for your pleas and ears of the guards, he pierced his cock into you against the cold metal bars, his climax marking yet another instance of his dominance over you, uncaring of the audience as he released himself inside your womb.

Jing Yuan claimed he was making you pay for your freedom.

He subjected every inch of your body to his abuse, leaving a trail of red hickies adorning your skin as he claimed your body. From your sopping pussy to your small hands to your bruised tits, his mouth had explored every inch of your flesh, leaving you unable to keep track of the countless times he spilled his cum inside you.

In hindsight, you doubted there would be a single night henceforth that did not end with him emptying his balls in your hot cunt.

Perhaps being sold as a slave to the IPC was a more merciful fate than this.

You woke up in an unfamiliar place, sprawled on a vast bed covered in layers of plush, fluffy blankets. As you sat up, the luxurious feel of fine silks against your skin caught your attention. The loose robe you wore was exquisite, its fabric whispering against your freshly cleaned skin.

Despite the soft, decadent surroundings, the marks Jing Yuan had left on you remained, stark reminders of the previous night's intensity.

Your hair, now free of knots and tangles, flowed smoothly over your shoulders, a far cry from the disheveled state it had been in during your imprisonment. The room around you exuded opulence, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh cell you had endured for a seemingly unending amount of time.

“‘Morning, my love.” Jing Yuan greeted as he entered from the other room.

He had that same infuriating smirk on his face, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he approached the bed. Placing his palms firmly on the mattress, he leaned over to you as he brushed his lips against your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Perhaps we can go clothing shopping together today.”

The audacity of Jing Yuan to sport such a carefree smile, oblivious or perhaps taking joy in the turmoil he had inflicted upon you. How could he possibly pretend that everything was alright after coercing you into surrendering your very existence?

Your simmering anger must have been palpable, evident in the tightening of your jaw and the quiet fire smoldering in your eyes. Yet, instead of recoiling at your fury, Jing Yuan's smirk only widened, his demeanor remaining infuriatingly composed as he observed your seething discontent.

“Or would you rather stay here?” He tapped the bed with his fingers, “I’m sure we can think of plenty to do.”

You pushed away the blankets and stood, “I’d rather go out.”

“Without me, right?”

You held your tongue, eyes ablaze with tapered fury. In the face of Jing Yuan's smug demeanor, you feared that silence was the only retort you were allowed to show.

The general leaned over the bed, catching your elbow and shoving you back onto the bed.

“Say it.” He goaded you as he loomed over your body, a hand caressing the cascade of hair that spilled around you.

“What?”

“I can almost hear those scathing comments you once graced me with. I want to hear it.”

“I hate you.”

You seized the chance to finally speak your mind, refusing to hold back as your statement held every ounce of hatred you harbored towards him. Perhaps you would express yourself more in as many ways as he would tolerate.

“Again, my love.” He whispered against your skin, lowering himself to nip at your neck.

“I hate you more than anything and anyone.”

“How passionate you must feel for me.” How infuriating his tone was, if only because Jing Yuan was being genuine. “I’ll be what inhabits your mind for all time. Your love, your hatred - this is enough for me.”

“I will never love you.”

His tongue traced a path along the curve of your collarbone, leaving a lingering sensation that you decidedly chose to ignore. With a slow, deliberate movement, he then brought his nose to your neck, inhaling deeply as if to fully appreciate your scent, the creep.

Foreheads pressed together, your gaze locked with his, unable to look away from his golden gaze.

“And I cannot wait to prove you wrong.”

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imfoive · 5 days ago

Text

Crystal Bird - Chapter 8

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of war, assassination, animal hunting/cruelty, disease, death, somewhat proofread WC: 6.3k A/N: god I loved writing this chapter!! I’m so excited for the next one! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

CHAPTER 8 ───────────────────

The sound of horses trotting echoed through the Grand Forest, the terrain suddenly foreign yet familiar to Chris who had visited briefly on his first day in Elysium. Tell-tale signs of his carvings that he had marked the trees with, still vaguely visible against the wood, but this time, he felt out of place.

Surrounded by haughty noble lords who laughed among themselves, he spotted Prince Ian ahead, engrossed in conversation with his friends. The foreign princes remained silent on their horses, observing and waiting at the rear end of the group.

Glancing at Hyunjin, Chris noted the way the Sylvancrest Prince took in the foreign greenery, clearly amazed. It seemed he had reverted to his polite, naive demeanor, as if their tense game of chess had never occurred. Hyunjin caught Chris’ gaze, his lips curving into a smile that irritated the Nightshade Prince, prompting him to quickly look away.

Their guards, Han and Seungmin, lingered several yards back among the Elysium Knights accompanying their hunting party, their attention fixed on their respective princes.

Han felt uneasy, acutely aware that Minho was somewhere in the forest, perhaps in the midst of completing his own mission. Chris’ earlier remark about the possibility of an ambush, even if meant as a joke, lingered in his mind, an unsettling thought that something dangerous could unfold hadn’t left his mind.

The warrior guard would have taken a deep breath to rid him of his anxious thoughts. He would have convinced himself that nothing unusual would happen that afternoon. But a sudden stench of blood filled his nose. A distant, but lingering smell that made him stare straight ahead to his Prince’s form, aware that Prince Christopher had probably picked up on it as well.

The Nightshade Prince’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze suddenly scanning the lush greenery around them, instantly guarded as he caught a whiff.

The metallic stench of blood hung faintly in the air, a looming scent that only the Nightshade Warriors seemed to detect, it seemed. Hyunjin remained absorbed in the foliage, while Ian and his entourage appeared completely unbothered, laughing and chatting as if nothing was amiss.

“Are you ready princes?” One of the young lords exclaimed as the group gathered, their horses forming a circle.

They began discussing what was to come.

The rules were straightforward. The more kills, the more points. Bigger kills earned double points, and the winner would receive a thousand gold coins.

“Last year, Prince Ian got a moose!” Another young noble had exclaimed, impressed anew as he recalled the memory.

Chris and Hyunjin exchanged glances as they watched Ian try to downplay his achievement. Yet the grin on his face and the smug expression betrayed his pride.

“Knowing Prince Hyunjin’s nature from the brief time I’ve had to observe him, it’s safe to say he isn’t particularly skilled with a bow. Isn’t that right, Prince Hyunjin?” Ian almost snickered, turning to the Sylvancrest prince.

Hyunjin maintained his calm demeanor, his lips thinning into a smile.

“Maybe. I’m not very competitive so your observation might be accurate indeed.” Hyunjin replied, his words dripping with politeness.

The other young nobles erupted in “Ohhh’s,” clearly amused by his calm retort.

All this was pre-game banter. Jabs that were meant to rile everyone up, to make them unleash their rage through hunting.

Ian’s laughter gradually faded as he turned his attention to the Nightshade Prince. Chris, focused on identifying the source of the lingering stench of blood, didn’t have any particular interest in this small talk, let alone have anything to snicker about.

“I’m very intrigued to see what kind of game our ferocious warrior prince will bring us.” Ian taunted next, locking eyes with Prince Christopher.

Chris sat upright, his expression impassive, though he raised an eyebrow in response.

“I fought a bear once, back in Nightshade. Who knows what creatures I might encounter here on your Elysium soil?” He delivered the words with a laugh, but Ian’s gaze sharpened, sensing the subtle slight in Chris’ tone.

With a final muttering of, “We’ll see,” from Prince Ian, an Elysium guard, who was the referee for this god-awful hunting sport, approached them. The game had officially begun. Each participant slung a pouch of arrows across their back, gripping their bows tightly in hand.

At the sound of a horn, the noble and royal men dispersed, the atmosphere shifting from playful banter to a sudden seriousness. The competitiveness that had previously masked itself as a leisurely excursion, now surged to the forefront, each hunter focused on claiming victory in the hunt.

They were all prideful, a common personality trait amongst Elysium society it seemed.

Of course Chris couldn’t fall behind, glancing back at his personal guard, who sat stiffly in the distance, before nodding and urging his horse to pick up its pace.

As Prince Christopher disappeared into the greenery of tall trees, Han turned to Seungmin, who remained silent, his narrowed gaze fixed on the direction where his own prince had galloped off in.

“Aren’t you worried.” Han found himself asking, the earlier talk of ambushes and poison creeping into his thoughts, the lingering stench of blood still sharp in his nose.

Seungmin shot him a brief glance before returning his focus to the dense greenery of the forest.

“My prince is quite capable.” His words were curt, almost mumbled, but just loud enough for Han to catch, suddenly making him realize it was the first time he had heard Seungmin speak.

Han blinked, looking around at the Elysium knights, especially Ian’s head knight, who lingered at the edge of the forest marking the starting line. It was clear they took this game seriously. Even the guards were not allowed to intrude, as if there were no threats in these woods. But for Ian and his noble friends, who could barely handle a bow, it seemed safe. For the foreign princes, however, even the snap of a twig could pose a threat in this unfamiliar territory of the Grand Forest.

Deeper into the forest, there was a stillness, a quiet calm that enveloped the Warrior Prince, eyes wandering around at every rustle of bushes, of leaves underneath the gallop of horses.

“Why are you following me?” Chris muttered, turning to spare a glance at Prince Hyunjin trailing behind.

The Sylvancrest Prince broke into a smile, speeding up to ride alongside him.

“I’m not very good at hunting animals.” He confessed, looking around.

Chris couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his honest words, surprised that this man was the same one that played chess with him earlier that day. He had been slightly competitive back then, slightly something else. With a look in his eyes that was not present now. Instead looking at the Warrior Prince with a friendly, playful gaze.

“I don’t think anyone here is as good at hunting as they claim to be.” Chris replied, exhaling in slight frustration as he recalled lord what’s-his-face asking which hand to pull the arrow with.

This time the Sylvancrest Prince laughed lightly, his eyes still wide with wonder at the lush foliage of the Grand Forest.

“Then maybe I’ll have a chance to easily catch a moose myself.” He mused, still fascinated by a scenery he wouldn’t find back in Sylvancrest.

Chris didn’t respond, his attention focused on the trail ahead. He studied the path, still trying to pinpoint the source of the distant blood scent. His senses heightened, he remained alert, ready to fight if the situation demanded it.

“Prince Ian seemed to be quite skilled, though. At least skilled enough to graze the second princess with his arrow.” Hyunjin said casually, but it was enough to make Chris pull the reins of his horse to a halt.

“She seemed fine earlier. Did she have any complaints?—Is she in pain?” The Nightshade Prince’s words were laced with concern, his gaze betraying a hint of worry.

Hyunjin blinked, surprised by Chris’ reaction, before his brows relaxed.

“She didn’t mention any pain. I was just recalling her unusual behavior from last night.” He replied, referring to her stumbling in the dining hall corridors from the injured shoulder.

Except recalling last night, all Chris could think about was the chill of the night air as he snuck into her chambers. Her wide eyes filled with shock. Her lips trembling under his touch.

Suddenly anger bubbled up inside him all over again, darkening his expression.

Hyunjin noticed the change, his eyes widening in confusion anew.

“Did something I say make you uncomfortable?” His voice cut through Chris’ thoughts, causing the Nightshade Prince to tighten his grip on the reins as he glanced at him.

Then there was this Eastern Sea prince, this man who was becoming increasingly annoying. His riddle-like conversations and air-headed demeanor, which Chris suspected was feigned, his constant hovering around the second princess, all began to grate on his nerves.

“Focus on the game. I’m going to find my moose.” Chris muttered, a dark glint flashed in his eyes.

With a spirited “yip!” Chris spurred his horse into a swift gallop, leaving the Sylvancrest prince behind, who watched the Nightshade Prince’s figure disappear into the greenery, a mix of suspicion and curiosity lingering in his expression.

Yet, only a few minutes later, Chris began to falter, his horse slowing to a stop. He sniffed the air, his narrowed gaze scanning the surroundings as the scent of blood grew stronger. It seemed he was getting closer to whatever had been slain, the heavy stench hitting him with increasing intensity.

Finally, as he approached a suspicious heap, his eyes took in the sight of the dead animal underneath the tall weeds and grass.

The slain moose lie lifeless on the cold forest ground in a pool of its own blood. Multiple arrows were lodged in the body that Chris’ eyes flitted over, catching sight of the bright purple ribbons tied to their tails. The vibrant color stood out starkly against the greenery. Arrows that belonged to Prince Ian, marking his claim on the kill.

Except Ian hadn’t shot a single arrow, let alone killed anything.

He had been too busy gloating and boasting to his friends. How could he claim this kill when the hunt had just begun? Unless he had the skills of an archery master, or this moose had simply been waiting for him to arrive and take its life. Both scenarios were so ridiculous, Chris could laugh.

It was a clear conclusion to come to, a guess anyone could make in such a situation.

This moose was killed beforehand, to stage a grand win for the crown prince, who not only sucked at archery, but was perhaps one of the biggest losers Chris had met.

Maybe he should laugh out loud.

But of course, he didn’t laugh. The approaching sound of hoofbeats forced him to hide, moving out of sight.

It was Prince Ian, the star of this show. He had entered the stage, knowing exactly where he should stand, where he would find the animal he supposedly killed.

The Elysium Crown Prince dismounted, hands on his hips, staring down at the slain creature. He crouched to count his arrows, making a disgusted face as he did so, his chuckles echoing in the stillness of the forest before he stood. The sound made Chris’ expression harden, anger rising as he watched Ian gloat over the dead animal. Staring at Ian looking down at this dead animal.

He suddenly recalled how Ian looked down at everyone he deemed beneath him,

How he looked down on Y/N, his smug smile, villainous as he struck her with that arrow.

Chris watched, his gaze intent. That of a ferocious beast.

A predator locking onto his prey.

A Nightshade Warrior staring at his moose.

Prince Christopher’s hands had moved on their own, as if he had no control over them. One hand gripped the bow, while the other pulled an arrow taut. And with a single exhale he let go, the arrow instantly released into the air, slicing the silence of the forest before the sharp thud of its impact resonated through the trees.

Prince Ian froze, his eyes widening as he stared at the arrow that had pierced the tree in front of him, just inches from where he stood. Staring at the arrow that shook to a still, the phantom sensation of its swift passage by his ear, still lingered on him. As he exhaled, his breath trembled, fear etched on his face as he grasped just how narrowly he had escaped a deadly strike.

Then his eyes darted to the ribbon tied on the end. The bright red color that had been assigned to the Nightshade Prince was vibrant against the tree. The sound of hooves approached, pulling him from his thoughts. His legs trembled slightly from the near-death experience as he turned to face Prince Christopher, looking up to his figure mounted on his dark horse. Chris still held his bow, staring down with a unreadable intensity at the stunned Elysium Prince. A slight smirk tugged at his lips, but he quickly lowered his head to mask his amusement.

The Warrior Prince finally let out a loud “tsk”, looking back up.

“You are such a skilled archer indeed, Prince Ian. Striking that moose before I could even nock my arrow.” Chris’ lies flowed effortlessly through his lips as he gazed down at the shaken prince.

Except his made-up scenario only made Ian stiffen further, the color draining from his face. Before he could utter a response, before he could even accuse the foreign prince of anything, the group of the other lords approached, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief as they took in the scene they stumbled upon.

The fallen moose. The countless arrows that stuck out of it. The single arrow lodged in the tree just behind their crown prince.

Their eyes flickered around, settling on the Nightshade Prince who was still mounted on his horse, awaiting for answers. Answers that easily left Chris’ lips, upturned into a gentle smile now.

“Prince Ian’s aim is far superior to mine. How did he manage to hit this large fellow while my shot barely missed?” He glanced at the arrow embedded in the tree, an action mirrored by the young nobles.

Ian opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, he felt the weight of their stares, their cheers and praises echoing in his ears.

He remained silent. Acknowledging this made up scenario, perhaps even an act of an assassination that had been attempted. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak out against it.

His pride was too large. So, he thinned his lips into a smile, masking the turmoil within.

────────────────────────

Y/N stared at Anna, who had just returned from running errands in town. Areas which Y/N would have snuck out herself to find solace from the suffocating environment of the palace grounds, but couldn’t due to the personal knight that seemed to not leave her tail. Especially since her mother learned of the arrow incident, berating her knight for leaving her alone after the royal dinner the previous evening.

The older woman had entered her chambers with a fury unsurprising, yet she didn’t know if she should scold her daughter for being an idiotic fool for her bold actions the previous afternoon. Or if she should glance over her wound to ensure that she was alright.

Perhaps Lady Katherine’s motherly instincts had kicked in.

Or maybe it was the fear of losing her ticket to a golden life that kept her anger at bay.

Instead of reprimanding Y/N, she insisted her daughter stay confined to her chambers.

With Sienna summoned to the Queen’s court and no tasks to occupy the second princess, it was an easy arrangement. It was for her own apparent good, for her chance to recover. The mother had claimed, despite Y/N’s protests, that she felt fine, thanks to the Nightshade medicine tucked in the drawers of her dresser.

But alas, she was not allowed out unless summoned. Now, Y/N sat with a new concern as she observed her personal maid. Her mind had been clouded with Sienna’s sad gaze and the words exchanged during their earlier walk, but Anna’s entrance shifted her focus. The girl’s usual cheerful demeanor had darkened, replaced by a solemn expression, as if something weighed heavily on her mind. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in town, given that Anna had been bubbly right until she left.

“What bad news has come to you?” Y/N asked, her thoughts slipping out easily between them.

Anna, busy unwrapping various items she’d brought from town, blinked rapidly at her princess’s words before furrowing her brows. She glanced toward the grand bedroom doors, where Y/N’s personal knight stood watch.

“You know you can speak freely in the privacy of my chambers. Worry not.” Y/N reassured her, easily reading the maid’s doubt.

Anna sighed, shaking her head as she settled into the open chair.

“It’s the usual. The townspeople are quite upset with the royal family for not addressing the ongoing Fading Ill sickness spreading in the slums. They’re afraid it might reach them and have been trying to urge the King’s court to take action.” Her mood had visibly soured from the whispers and murmurs she’d heard from merchants and shopkeepers.

Y/N fell into her own deep thoughts, recalling the illness Anna had mentioned.

Fading Ill.

The Second Princess had first heard about it in Melgarde, when she had snuck out of the estate and into the town square. There, people had openly discussed the sickness that seemed to emerge from nowhere. They blamed the harsh winters, the slum dwellers. The poor, who couldn’t care for themselves, spread the disease. After returning to the capital, she had stumbled upon the kitchen maids gossiping about the sickness and the royal court’s apathy, too preoccupied with preparations for celebrations while their citizens suffered.

Y/N pondered whether there was a way for her to help. She had even tried to gather information about the Fading Ill, but nothing useful had surfaced. Eventually, her responsibilities caught up with her, and the whispers of the sickness began to dwindle down as well.

She had assumed her father had taken action, but now, hearing Anna’s recounting of the news, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. Burdened by the weight of this situation. Responsibilities that weren’t hers to address, to solve.

“My lady, it’s time for you to apply your medicine.” Anna said with a final sigh, as if resolving to let go of the troubling news from town.

Y/N nodded and as she began to undress, her eyes suddenly lit up. An idea making her stare with wide eyes of enthusiasm at Anna. The young girl who had already understood what that look meant, was quick to settle her back into her seat.

“Let us apply this salve first. Else you will dash out and forget about your own wounds.” She pointed, rushed fingers already undoing the ties of Y/N’s dress before the princess decided it could wait.

The Second Princess begrudgingly agreed, allowing for the young maid to tend to her.

Her eyes started in fascination, peering down to look at her healing wound as best as she could. It truly felt like magic. The wounded area was no longer tender, now dry, and the skin looked significantly improved from what she remembered that morning. The Nightshade were indeed masters of the healing arts.

The Nightshade Kingdom held the exact solution this ambitious second princess had been searching for.

────────────────────────

Ian had been seething. In anger, in embarrassment, that coursed through him. The smug expression of that Nightshade Prince flashed before his eyes, a reminder of his humiliation in the forest. After downing an entire bottle of liquor, the intense rage still simmered within him, refusing to ease. He had stumbled into the royal library, unsure how he had even arrived there, but it was silent and dark, allowing him to stew in his fury.

The hour was late, and Ian struggled to recall what had transpired after winning the hunting game. An achievement that should have filled him with elation and pride. Instead, all he could think about was Prince Christopher. His lies, the arrow that had grazed past him, and the mockery hidden in that smirk. The victory felt hollow, overshadowed by the humiliation he couldn’t shake off.

The library doors creaked open, a sliver of light spilling in from the brightly-lit corridors outside, before the darkness reclaimed the space as the doors closed.

“I knew I would find you holed up here.” The Queen’s voice pierced through Ian’s inner turmoil, her commanding tone shattering the stillness of the dimly lit library.

“No one besides that stupid bastard-girl frequents this place.” He muttered, taking another swig from his bottle of liquor.

The Queen Mother inhaled sharply, her eyes darting around the seemingly empty library. His words were true. This wing of the royal library was primarily visited by the second princess and the occasional curious guest. Yet it was here that her son sought refuge in the late hours every now and then, drawn to the lightly guarded doors that allowed him to drink himself into a mess.

“What is bothering you so that you’re drinking here like a fool?” The Queen’s words were curt, her narrowed eyes fixed on her son with a mix of annoyance and concern.

A bolt of thunder crashed outside, illuminating the library for a brief moment through the grand floor-to ceiling windows. The tumultuous weather seemed to mirror Ian’s emotions that had been bubbling within him all evening.

“That Nightshade Prince.” He spat, his words dripping with venom.

It was clear something had happened. The Queen Mother had heard that Prince Ian had won today’s hunt, but his current state made it evident that the victory meant little to him.

“He thinks he’s all high and mighty for being a warrior. And those stupid nobles look at him with admiration that they try to mask in my presence. I just know it.” The Crown Prince spat, taking another swig from his bottle.

The Queen only observed him, the sound of rain pattering against the windows echoed loudly in the tense atmosphere of the library.

It seemed that Prince Ian was feeling insecure, that much she could tell.

But Ian’s thoughts drifted back to this afternoon in the Grand Forest. While he had to stage a win, the Warrior Prince had effortlessly shot an arrow at him.

Missing him on purpose.

Something he couldn’t even voice out loud from embarrassment. It made him even angrier.

“They supposedly hold disdain for him and his kind, yet behind my back, I’m sure they compare us. What comparison is there to make with a barbarian?” Ian’s eyes shot up to meet his mother’s grim expression.

“Who dares to compare?” The Queen’s tone had hardened, yet there was no answer to the question he had asked.

Perhaps she thought her son was indeed less than the Nightshade Prince, true in many ways.

It wouldn’t be surprising.

The Warrior Prince was the perfect example of a future ruler. He spoke when it mattered, fit into any situation, and had sharp observational skills. His impressive defense mechanisms only highlighted what the Elysium Prince lacked.

Ian scoffed at her counter question, at her lack of an answer, dropping his gaze to the wood of the table he was slumped over. His expression darkened as he slowly glanced back up to meet the Queen Mother’s gaze.

“Mother, when do we get rid of him.”

The Queen inhaled deeply, glancing around the room once again, before settling her gaze on her hunched over son.

“Soon. You need not worry. Focus on your upcoming marriage.” Her reply was cold, cutting through the heavy atmosphere.

Another jolt of thunder and lightning ricocheted through the room.

In the shadows at the back of the seemingly empty library, behind the large bookcases, Princess Y/N stood frozen, hands pressed against her lips to muffle any sound. Her downcast eyes widened as she stared at the tiles that glimmered under the flashes of thunder. Her face drained of color, mind reeling as whatever she overheard sank in.

The Second Princess had always been an expert at slipping away, and had done just that earlier in the evening.

Anna had warned her it wasn’t a good idea, that she should listen to her mother this one time and settle in for the night to allow her shoulder to recover. But, of course, the steadfast princess had decided she wanted to do some research. Perhaps she could uncover details about the Fading Ill sickness in the Nightshade texts housed in the royal library. Though the collection was limited, Y/N knew exactly where to find them, recalling the few times she had pulled them from the shelves.

Anna had sighed but reluctantly agreed to help with the escapade. She too had been worried about the spreading disease, especially after what she had heard out in town. Except they wondered how she would sneak out.

But it turned out to be an easy task.

The young maid peered out into the hall and caught a glimpse of the young knight standing rigid at his post. Upon closer inspection, she realized he had fallen asleep.

It made sense.

Ever since he was assigned to guard the second princess, who had no real threats posed against her, he had stood alone all night, often dozing off while keeping watch over a forgotten princess. Every night he had stood guarding against nothing. And he had quickly became comfortable. He had even perfected the art of sleeping on duty, appearing to stand guard.

If Anna had caught him any other time, she would have berated him for daring to look away from the princess. But tonight, she could only roll her eyes, feeling slightly grateful that he felt safe enough to neglect his duties and fall asleep.

That was how Y/N found herself sneaking into the library, a single handheld candlestick in her grip, glancing back every once and then as she cut through the rose garden to arrive without being seen. The library was easy to access, the palace knights stationed in this wing, mostly lingered by the King’s study, briefly passing by the part of the library only Y/N frequented. It was why she enjoyed coming here, able to scour books for hours without disturbance.

Once behind the large bookcases at the back, she began raking through the titles on the shelves, pulling out a few that might be helpful, settling on the ground as she flipped pages.

The loud creak of the library doors jolted her from her studious trance. She quickly scurried to her feet, instinctively blowing out the candle that provided her light. Pressing her back against the bookshelf, she held her breath, grateful for the shadows that concealed her.

Prince Ian’s voice broke the silence, laced with curses, followed by the sounds of chairs and stools being knocked about before he settled atop a table. The hidden princess strained to catch his mutterings, but couldn’t quite grasp them, only hearing more curses and the sloshing of liquor in a bottle.

She expected to remain hidden for as long as Ian lamented whatever had driven him to drink, to come in here. She planned to sneak out once he finished his cursing, either leaving swiftly after him or after he drank himself to sleep.

But she didn’t expect to overhear such vile plans. The words made her heart hammer against her chest, her throat going dry.

The thunder continued to roar in the night sky, its echo jolting the hidden princess out of her trance.

Now there she stood, concealed, processing everything she had overheard in that brief moment between Prince Ian and the Queen Mother. The implied words that made her heart race and her breath quicken.

There were some more murmurs and words exchanged between the Queen and the Crown Prince, but Y/N was too preoccupied with her own worries. The fear of getting caught and the weight of their insinuations clouded her mind.

“You shall endure it, and entertain him for just a little longer.” The Queen’s final words came out with authority, words her son begrudgingly accepted.

Y/N stiffened as she heard more loud shuffling, her head shooting toward the edge of the bookcase to peek out of the shadows. She caught a glimpse of Prince Ian’s back as he followed the Queen Mother out, before the library doors closed with an echoing thud.

The silence that followed was eerie. Y/N found that she had been holding her breath and finally exhaled, leaning against the large bookcase to steady herself. Her heart raced, her ears rang from the tension, and tears welled in her eyes.

What did he mean by “get rid of him?”

His tone, his words, replayed in her mind.

Her thoughts darted back and forth, trying to decipher Ian’s vague words.

Surely he meant to send the Warrior Prince back, to rid Elysium of his presence and urge him to return to Nightshade.

Princess Y/N’s heart tried to comfort her. But her mind, the sharper part of her, the part that was always thinking, always curious, understood the implications of that conversation between the two royals.

Get rid of him.

Breach the peace agreement. Perhaps start a war.

Assassinate the Nightshade Crown Prince.

Kill her Chan.

Y/N’s hands flew to her mouth again as the realization hit her, her heart pounding in the heavy silence. She held back a sob, gripping her dress for support as she leaned against the bookcase. Her eyes darted toward the large doors that had just closed, emerging slowly from the darkness. She was trying to figure out what to do with the shocking information she had uncovered.

She had come to the library seeking a solution to a different problem, but now her mind reeled with the new mess she found herself in. The justice-driven princess couldn’t allow the Elysium royals to assassinate Prince Christopher simply because Ian felt inferior.

Teary-eyed, she glanced around the now eerie library before her gaze settled outside, watching the rain pour against the glass. Each flash of lightning illuminated the darkened room.

Y/N inhaled deeply, bracing herself. She had made her decision.

She could let them kill the man she loved.

But she didn’t know what to do. Her mind raced, her heart pounded. Anxiety gripped her as she hurried out of the library, glancing over her shoulder in the now-darkened corridors.

The Second Princess inhaled, backtracking to hide behind a column, catching sight of a flickering fire ahead. It was a patrol guard, making his rounds of this area before he headed back to the second floor where the King’s study was. Sure there was no reason for her to hide, she was a Princess and he was a guard on duty. Yet what frightened her the most was the whispers of her presence here tonight reaching the Queen’s ears. Putting her in the library, the place where the royals had discussed about the Nightshade Prince openly.

Princess Y/N had never stayed out this late. She had never let herself become so engrossed in her books that she lost track of time. Especially on a night like this, with rain pattering loudly against the windows.

She gulped, waiting for the guard’s footsteps to fade into silence. When the corridor was quiet again, illuminated only by a few flickering wall sconces, she moved cautiously forward.

Perhaps she should have listened to Anna, or even her mother, as the young maid had urged her to do. It was a part of her nature that often led her into trouble. Yet as she stepped into the outdoor corridors, the heavy rain drumming in her ears, she convinced herself eavesdropping had been worth it.

The shortcut through the garden was treacherous, especially on dreary nights like tonight. The rain-soaked mud squelched beneath her feet as she navigated through the dark foliage. The shadows seemed to envelop her, the storm masking the sounds of her hasty movements.

The Second Princess thought she was safe, hidden from the patrol guards off the main path. But then, a sudden presence loomed behind her. A masked man pressed against her, one hand covering her mouth to stifle her scream, the other gripping her waist, pulling her close.

Y/N’s wide, fearful eyes locked onto his. Even in the darkness, in this unforgiving downpour, she recognized that piercing gaze.

Chan’s gaze bore into hers.

Eyes darting over her before narrowing, as he took a quick glance in the direction she emerged from, to ensure no one was on her trail. He pulled down the fabric that masked the lower half of his face.

“Princess…” His voice carried a hint of frustration, mixed with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

Realizing he still had her pressed against him, his hand resting on her back, he instinctively recoiled. Yet his eyes that held those unknown emotions stared down at her with a new intensity.

Y/N took in the sight of him, standing in the rain amidst the maze of tall bushes and shrubbery. Her eye raked over his all-black attire, the mask concealing his identity, soaked from head to toe. Suggesting he was out in the night with questionable intentions.

An enemy princess would have summoned the palace knights.

A capable princess would have accused him of treachery, questioning the Foreign Prince’s suspicious presence here, his motives.

A competent princess wouldn’t have been sneaking around in the first place.

Instead, Y/N’s face contorted, and she finally let out her cries that she tried her best to push back as she looked at him.

Looked at her childhood friend, the man she was enamored with.

The man whose life was in danger, a target of vile plans.

Chris’ eyes widened at her expression, at the tears streaming down her cheeks amidst her sobs. He watched as she pressed her hands over her eyes, shielding them from the rain. Confusion flickered in him for a moment, reaching out but instantly faltering. Her shivering form, her cries were enough to urge him to reach out, gripping her arms tightly.

“Are you hurt? Did someone do something? Princess Y/N, tell me what happened!” He sounded frantic, eyes raking over her to ensure she wasn’t hurt, raking over her shoulder to check if the injury there left her in pain.

The Second Princess grasped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer into a hug that left the Warrior Prince stunned. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, and amidst the sound of rain pouring all around them, he was certain she could hear it too.

But it wasn’t just her hug that made his heart clench, it was the sight of her crying in his arms that filled him with a sudden sense of helplessness.

Chris pulled back slightly, enough to gaze down at her tear-streaked face, drenched by both rain and sorrow. His hands cupped her jaw, his touch gentle and tender. Like the soft touches from the night before, when he had brushed his fingers against her wounded flesh.

The Warrior Prince didn’t question his actions, gazing down at Y/N with the gentlest expression he had ever worn. A twinge of desperation stirred within him as he tried to figure out what had driven her to run through the rain in this dark, like a wild thing, now crying in his arms.

Y/N locked her eyes onto his, letting them drift over his features. His furrowed brows, his parted lips. Slowly, her expression softened as she took in his warmth. She calmed, breaking free from the anxious thoughts that had plagued her, all thanks to his presence and the comfort of his touch. His grip was both gentle and firm, her eyes raking over at the raindrops clinging to the ends of his hair, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“You must leave Prince Christopher.” Her whispered words were enough to break his worrisome silence, eyebrows relaxing as he took in the sight of her hardened expression staring up at him.

Here stood the Second Princess of Elysium, the steadfast and stubborn princess who always managed to irk him. The vulnerable girl he had glimpsed was gone.

And here she was telling him to leave, yet her hands gripped tightly at his shirt. Clinging to him, pulling him closer.

Prince Christopher felt something snap. Something not in the world around them, but rather something within himself, had finally come undone.

His fingers, still cradling her jaw, drew her face nearer, diving in to meet her in the middle. His lips finally pressing against hers.

It was a kiss that felt achingly real.

A kiss that Y/N found herself falling into with ease, her hands tugging at him with a hint of desperation, yearning to kiss him deeper, to pull him closer, flush against her.

Chris felt himself drowning in her as well. Her arms, her lips, the kiss that left him breathless. The Warrior Prince pulled back just enough to glance over her closed eyes, gaze scouring over her serene expression. Her lips let out a shaky breath and the enemy prince found himself leaning in for a second kiss.

The thunder roared loudly in the dark sky. Yet, even such a loud sound was not enough to bring them back to reality.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solzale, @fixation-dump, @ellelabelle, @gaslasyttune, @qwonyoung23, @minh0scat, @candyquokka, @sellomaybe, @kat-unzel, @gujter, @aeri-skzver, @hefflez8

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niki-phoria · 7 months ago

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i love ur resident evil masterlist.... stayed up all night reading those and giggling like a maniac... ANYWAYS could u like write nanami kento (jjk) x reader that has social anxiety (me ermm..) i just want ur persepctive on how u view it CAN BE TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF RGGRGR but ofc!! u can take ur time writing this i'll probably forget abt this but oh well!!!!

WHEN I'M FALLING DOWN, DOWN, DOWN / YOU ALWAYS SAVE ME

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff/comfort word count: 677

notes: tysm it means the world to me !! technically i don't write for nanami but i had an idea for this :) mostly based on my own experiences with social anxiety lol, title from nct dream - breathing

the night air smells of barbeque smoke and beer. laughter from young children and drunken words passed between adults surround you until you can barely hear yourself think over the chatter. the light pink and orange streaks in the sky came and went with the sunset, being replaced instead by the flickering led light shining from the various rides and attractions filling the fairgrounds.

any game and ride you could think of surrounds you. there are street vendors lining the streets selling all sorts of drinks and snacks. nanami has remained steadfast against your side, casually pushing others away from you when they threaten to intrude a bit too close for comfort. but all you can focus on is the people.

they surround you. wherever your eyes turn, there’s always another stranger. another pair of eyes on you.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest. your hands are clammy when you wipe them against your clothing. they tremble a little when you curl them into fists, doing your best to brave the sea of people ahead. after all, of all the terrible things that exist in the world, some strangers enjoying their night off shouldn’t be the thing that paralyzes you with fear.

“y/n,” nanami’s voice is soft - comforting - when he leans in. it’s a nice contrast to the loudness of the world around you. dark eyes meet your own when you glance over at him. anyone else would’ve missed the soft curve pulling his lips into a frown. the way his eyebrows are furrowed slightly, studying each minute detail of your expression for any signs of discomfort.

but you’re not anyone else. you can read nanami’s thoughts like they’re your own. you can feel his concern when he leans in a little closer to whisper in your ear. “are you feeling alright?”

you bite down on your bottom lip, taking another cursory glance at the crowd surrounding you. another person carelessly brushing past you is all it takes before you make up your mind. your hand is shaky when you curl your fingers around the hem, tugging his arm a little closer to you. he takes the initiative, ignoring the people shoving past him to step a little closer towards you. “can we go somewhere quieter?”

“of course.” nanami’s hand finds your own without you realizing; his fingers link with yours as you slip through the crowded street. you keep your eyes trained on the ground below, studying the scuff marks decorating your shoes instead of the faces of the strangers that surround you.

the fairgrounds feel more like a maze as nanami carefully guides you towards the exit, pushing through the worst of the crowd until you reach a more quiet area in the corner. the thin metal barrier sways in the wind as you slip out through the opening until you’re finally able to take shelter on a little metal bench away from the crowd.

“how are you feeling?”

you sigh, finally relaxing against the cold metal. if nothing else, it serves as a nice reminder that you’re temporarily safe from your own anxieties. “i’m fine. i just got a little overwhelmed.”

he hums in response. his eyes drift away from your face to the goosebumps that line your bare skin. without another word, nanami slips his tan blazer off, carefully draping it across your shoulders. you smile softly, wrapping it further around yourself as he sits down beside you.

you sit together in a comfortable silence, silently observing the way the led lights illuminate the night sky above. nanami’s hands feel warm when he intertwines your fingers together. you softly smile, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek before leaning over to rest your head against his shoulder. in the distance, you can see the flashing lights of the ferris wheel lighting up the night sky. “thank you, kento.”

nanami smiles. under the cover of darkness, nobody witnesses when his lips brush against the crown of your forehead for a brief moment before he murmurs, “i love you,” except for the stars.

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul

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nyehilismwriting · 3 months ago

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called home

@childofthemoonandsun's prize for the palestine gfm raffle - the request was for a moment between nash and their siblings before joining scytha :-)

Sunset on Koreth. The sky bleeds. The air bleeds. The sands, stained red, reflect off the clouds, a feedback loop in sanguine. Her star, her sun, drags itself hand by bloody hand towards the yawning horizon, a wounded creature crawling home to die.

As above, so below: you bleed. The doctors say it's normal; that your bandages need changing, that the IV takes care of the electrolyte imbalance. That the blood is just a side effect of the surgery.

Nash takes your hand, and finds it cold. Finds it, like your bandages, stained red. The light is crimson, dripping through the narrow window: it spills across the white linens, and they say out loud:

“it'll be fine.”

“It'll be fine,” they say, again: again, again, until it feels like the only thing they remember how to say. It'll be fine. I'll be fine. You'll be fine.

Everything will be—

They grit their teeth, force a smile. Punch Shayan on the arm, a little too hard. Watch him flinch; swallow back a hot flash of guilt. Eighteen and terrified, and already unwilling to show it.

“Don't worry so much.”

He frowns; they swallow.

“You'll stay in touch, yeah?”

Sullen. Looking away. He doesn't meet their eyes. They rub their hands together, fingers against their palms. The air is thick and still; the air conditioner whines, strains against the copper-tinted atmosphere of outer Koreth. The sofa creaks as they shift, knock their knee against their brother's.

“Always.” They swing an arm over his shoulders, drag him into them: curve their body into his, hold him close for a moment. His breath is warm in the warm air; his shoulders shake. In the kitchen, their mother drops something; both of them laugh at the sound of her swearing, Shayan's tension shuddering briefly out of him.

Light spills across the ground, red and slick.

Later, in their memory, it's painfully vibrant: the colour of blood under fluorescents, a slit across the throat of the room.

It wasn't, of course: it was just the sunset. The sky red, the air stained with it, reflecting the clouds and the sand outside.

Nash knows that.

Their mother, cooking dinner. Not watching her eldest child leave, her goodbyes said.

They don't remember saying goodbye to her; nor to their father, nor their other siblings. Younger, busier: still at school. Still so young. In their memory, Nash has always been as they are now, their mistakes unforgivable, their brother trapped in murky amber. A sullen teenager and his closest sibling, a jaded, bloodied adult who doesn't remember their other sibling’s faces. Doesn't remember saying goodbye to their mother.

Just Shayan.

Just that moment, his shoulders caved in toward them, that slash of bloody light across the white tiles. They'd squeezed his shoulder, patted his arm.

They'd stood.

They'd said:

“it'll be fine” (again)

and they hadn't met his eyes. Outside, someone starts the shuttle engine (and in their memory, Nash leans in and kisses their brother on the forehead) and they take a step back from him.

“look after the others,” they tell him, another step back. Shayan still won't meet their eyes: Nash remembers the hangnail he's picking at, the strip of raw red skin against his nail. His hair, thick and dark and worn longer than theirs, hangs over his face. Stop it, they want to say; shout it echoing back through the memory, like if they think it hard enough he'll hear them. Still aged sixteen: still leaning into their side, still listening to their every command.

Still in that bright living room, watching the sun bleed across their white tiles. Still waiting for the call for dinner.

It's been a long time since they let themself look him up. Last they heard, he was off-planet, working on a space station; a promising mechanic. Nash is proud.

Later still, Nash will be relieved.

Always, always, Nash will be guilty, painting that red slash across every memory they have. Placing their brother in that moment in their every memory of him: every conversation, every shared joke, wherever and whenever, now locked in that white room with that red light.

They should have said something else.

Now, with your hand cold in theirs, your hair (thick and dark and pushed back from your face), they find themself unable to think of anything else to say.

They squeeze your knuckles, place your hand back on the cool sheets, and stand.

Step away (you don't meet their eyes) and say, quiet:

“it'll be fine.”

#writing #snippets #oh no i forgot my 'tagging' 'system'#anyway. this was a pleasure and a joy thank you for participating!!

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zacshian · 4 months ago

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@rosekillermicrofic | Rosekiller | Date: 8 July 2024 | Prompt: Sunset | Word count: 521

---

Evan sat on the wooden bench, contemplating the dives that Regulus executed with his light broomstick. The sky was closing to a sunset. Regulus had made both Evan and Barty promise that, they would come to see the yearly selections of the Slytherin quidditch team. The few chosen young students were poorly trying to plunge into the air. Some of them went an extra mile by trying to copy the curves performed by Regulus.

Evan sighed. He was sitting all alone in the middle of an abyss.

'Where the hell are you?', Evan asked himself, imaging a tall torso of Barty.

"Oops."

The voice caught Evan off-guard. It was shrill, as if someone was chocked to draw out that voice. Evan turned behind like a spring.

"Someone's bored?", Barty said, maintaining the shrillness. He scrunched his nose and squatted beside Evan, pulling up a sock from his breast pocket.

"Where were you and what the hell is that?", Evan raised a brow, eyeing the sock.

"Look", the piping voice instructed inside the sock.

Evan peeped into the stretched opening of the sock. A hairy twig like creature jumped out.

Evan gasped, not for the creature that leaped out but for the creature itself. It was a tarantula, with a palm sized body and tentacles spreading like the fingers. It was a handful.

Evan looked at the tarantula that he sized inside his palm, confining it from escaping, then he looked at Barty and then again he turned back to the black creature.

"Where did you find it?", Evan said, without lifting his eyes, already been attracted to the spider.

Barty, who was looking at Evan rather than at the spider, felt like been caught in an illusion. And the trick was the sun rays, the golden tint, that glided through his eyes, highlighting their brown into a hue that matched the sky in the west. Evan looked beautiful, as if he was made to look like that.

"Barty?"

Barty woke up from his fantasies with a sudden jurk from Evan, he was perplexed. "What happened?"

"What do we name it?", Evan asked.

Barty thought, but he already had names ready, "Blood-poison. Or Scarlet-thirst. Or Famertiano."

"What's Famertiano?", Evan asked, scrutinizing the brown fur of the tarantula.

"Nothing."

"Okay then. Famertiano", Evan pressed his lips in a thoughtful manner and ultimately concluded. "Anyways, where did you get this from?"

"I bought it at the cost of winning an arm wrestle with two seniors from Ravenclaw. This is the prize I got. For you."

The last two words seemed to have an effect on Evan. His eyes softened and even though he didn't reply anything back, Barty could comprehend those sun kissed eyes, they were saying love.

"Do you think Famertiano would be able to pull up a melodrama in Regulus's bed?", Barty asked as he a swaying figure in the sky caught his attention.

"I don't see how he could fail, if we teach Famertiano how to execute the melodrama", Evan replied in a single song voice, already hooked up by the thought of mischief.

"Let's plan, should we?"

"Plan A?", Evan asked with a smirk that lifted the corners of his mouth.

Barty saw that beauty, the dark beauty in him. And he knew it at that moment that Evan was not a thing meant for prize, he was a treasure, hard to get, and ever harder to lose.

#rosekillermicrofic #rosekiller dynamic #rosekiller #the rosier boy #evan rosier #bartemius crouch jr #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #barty crouch x evan rosier #regulus #regulus black #slytherin skittles #slytherin #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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whatswrongwithblue · 5 months ago

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The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful

Word count: 9,210. Read on A03. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Alastor and Mina reunite a year after he tried to claim her soul. Adorable, "young love," fluffy smut. TW: canon typical language, self image insecurity, smoking, drinking, mentions of incest and statutory rape - not involving Alastor or Mina, breeding cycles, fingering, oral - fem receiving, p in v, creampie, light biting.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful

1953

Pride Ring

These parties were even worse than Alastor remembered.

Most of the Hellborn royalty worth a damn were here tonight and therefore most of Pride Ring’s most prominent Overlords were in attendance. It would be poor form if he hadn’t made an appearance, but he found the whole thing really . . . stupid.

He was a man of principle and believed in keeping one’s manners in check when appropriate but the over-the-top air of sophistication, of white collar, blue blood privilege among these Hellborn’s made Alastor’s skin crawl. It reminded him far too much of the type of people he had to associate with while working in radio as a human. He had to dress nicer, change his accent and speak with more refinement, force his hair straighter . . . hell he even spent as little time outside during the daytime to keep his slightly tanner than Caucasian skin tone as light as possible.

These days, he only made a point of showing up to these parties to see how uncomfortable he could make the Goetia Ars family before dipping out in less than an hour’s time. Some of their lower status members had been a few of his first targets when he had come into power there in Hell and he always made a point of re-airing their family members’ screams to his broadcasts for days in advance before arriving to their palaces.

There was only one reason he was still hanging around that evening and it was the woman who he had just watched make her exit out onto an empty balcony.

He hadn’t seen Mina in over a year. Not since his mishap with attempting to get her soul. He had known very quickly in their budding friendship that he genuinely enjoyed her company, but it wasn’t until he had tried to force her hand, and she had nearly died, that he realized the depth of his feelings for her. And it had made him extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. He had meant it when he had told her that he never wanted to see her again.

Or . . . at least he thought he had.

But then he had seen her that evening from across the ballroom, eagerly speaking with an owlish royal easily twice her height.

Like him, she hadn’t arrived in anything fancier than she normally wore, although her usual dress was classy enough to not stand out. The long, loose fitting black sleeves of her top were modest but the sweetheart collar and bow around the front of her waist accentuated her curves pleasantly. The dress ended with a long flowing skirt of burnt orange, the rich color of a southern sunset he hadn’t seen in decades.

Alastor had always enjoyed the company of women. Although he admired their beauty in a purely aesthetic way, he found he related to them better and preferred their company over that of men’s. Therefore, almost all of his closest acquaintances were women. But it wasn’t until that night, when he was forced to come to terms with how much he had missed having her in his life, that he felt a stirring of something he hadn’t experienced since his teenage years, when even his hormones had been challenging to control. Still hesitant to approach, he’d watched her from a distance; debating with himself on whether or not to act on the stirring of emotions he could feel brewing inside him.

And then. . . Mina looked upset. She walked through the large glass doors, clearly agitated, and went towards the edge of the outdoor balcony, out of his line of sight.

Perhaps it was because he had separated himself from her completely over the last 15 months, allowing both of their tempers to cool off enough to think. Or maybe it was just the utter distraught look on her face that drew him to her. Or maybe, something in his dark and twisted mind had finally softened; matured enough to allow him something more in this afterlife.

Whatever the reason, Alastor could no longer find a reason why he shouldn’t allow himself to be around her. Taking his still full glass of scotch with him, he stepped out onto the balcony, and shut the door behind him.

Mina was at the corner of the balcony, elbows on the railing, and holding a cigarette. She looked over her shoulder at him, then turned away again, and with a slight tremble in her hand, brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.

“You were right, you know,” she said once she exhaled. “These parties are terrible.”

He chuckled as he approached her, leaning one elbow on the railing himself but turned more directly towards her. “It’s almost criminal that I tried to get you to make a deal for the chance to go to one. Really, I’m ashamed.”

Her face broke into a smile then. “I did sneak off and find this amazing library upstairs. There were texts so old they were in scrolls. Even a few clay tablets. None of it in English, of course.” Her smile fell and she took another drag. “No one here even thinks it’s of any interest. These Goetia’s, they’re so ancient and powerful, they know so much about . . . everything. And they spend their time doing this? Standing around in outfits and jewelry that costs thousands of dollars just to talk shit about their children and make jokes about who their husband is fucking. I don’t know why I thought they’d be different. Turns out Hell really isn’t much different than Earth.”

“And yet they’re one of the few who are summoned by living humans,” Alastor agreed. “Oh, the irony. What I wouldn’t give to make deals up on Earth.”

“Didn’t you kill a few of them?” Mina asked.

“Ages ago, but yes. Still one of my finer moments,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

She was staring at him openly now, a small smile playing across her lips, as she eyed him up and down.

“You look . . . really good,” she said after a beat.

He brought his glass down, and though he could tell she was flirting, he pretended to be confused. Glancing down at his red pinstriped jacket, he said, “I look how I always look.”

“Sorry,” she said, flicking her cigarette out over the edge without bothering to stamp it out. “I’m not myself tonight. Forgive me if I seem a little . . . irritable and forward. Could you conjure me one of those?” she asked, eyeing his glass.

“Jameson?” he asked, assuming.

“Please,” she scoffed, “Bourbon.”

“Developed a different taste while you were in the south?” he teased and produced the glass with a flourish.

She took a rather large gulp before answering. “It’s sweeter.”

Mina pulled her hair over one shoulder, fanning air over the exposed skin with her free hand and sighed. “I know it’s Hell, but does it always have to be so God damn hot?”

Alastor noted that it was actually a cooler evening as far as Hell was concerned and quite comfortable until suddenly, he understood. Mina was shaky, on edge, flushed, and eyeing him like he was a cool drink of water, even more so than she had before he had betrayed her trust. And she was drinking liquor, which he had never seen her do before. He didn’t know much when it came to the biology of demon women, but he knew then that Mina was in heat. Probably just the later stages of it, but still.

She was drunk and hormonal, and he had been flirting with her.

“Alastor?” she asked, after he hadn’t responded to a single thing she had said.

Normally the idea of someone being attracted to him either amused him or it was like a bucket of ice water down his back, completely repulsing him. But he was realizing now that Mina’s attraction to him, which was remarkably still there despite everything he had done to her and was surely a sign of her susceptible state of mind, pleased him. He felt warm and happy and suddenly perversely excited about her aroused state.

She was watching him, and he had to think, think of something he would normally do or say, and not how much he wanted to touch her. That could come later, if he still wanted it, but he could not lose control of this situation and take advantage of her.

“I don’t find you to be irritable at all. You are being remarkably pleasant, given the circumstances in which we last parted,” he finally managed to say with a confident smile, thankfully always there to hide his inner turmoil.

“It’s funny how much a year makes a difference,” she said, inching a little closer to him and taking another sip of her bourbon. He should not have given that to her. “I figure, if you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it that night. Instead, you let me be. You let me live. And after a while, I really had to start asking myself, why? Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“I didn’t have a reason to,” he answered, sounding much more composed than he felt.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you kill people for less.”

He had no smart response for that. She was right. Anyone else would have at least faced a painful death before respawning but likely would have ended up on his radio broadcast as a permanent entertainment piece.

“It wasn’t all for show, was it? The time we spent together?” she asked when he failed to answer.

“No,” he admitted, and looked down to see a lock of her hair now wrapped around his fingers. When had he done that? “No, I’m afraid . . . none of it was.”

She shifted her weight, processing what he had just confessed.

“Then why-“ she began, and now she was running her hands over the lapels of his jacket, “-why did you do it? Why couldn’t you just let things continue the way they were going?”

“I suppose,” he swallowed, and he was sure not even his smile could hide his exponentially growing desire for her any longer, “I had forgotten how to do that.”

She smiled back at him, seemingly satisfied and believing that answer.

“Let me show you how,” she whispered.

She raised herself up on tip toes and kissed him. It was soft, gentle, and surprisingly controlled. Despite the rush of hormones Alastor could practically smell coming off her, she wasn’t losing herself in the heat of the moment. If she had been all tongue and grabbing hands it might have snapped him out of it but instead, she was sweet and almost shy with him. And now he was good and turned on and he was the one deepening the kiss, getting handfuls of her hair at the back of her head, and pulling her towards him.

His tongue danced across hers and God bourbon had never tasted so good. He had barely had a double of his own drink and yet felt more drunk than he had in years with the feel of her pressed so well against him. She was so right for him, understood him so easily, wanted him as much as he wanted her-

A glass shattered and Mina broke away from the kiss. Without stepping out of his arms, she looked down at the glass of whiskey she had dropped in order to grab hold of his jacket with both hands.

“Oops,” she said and then broke into a fit of giggles.

Right. She hid it well but was clearly more drunk than he had initially wagered.

“You should get yourself home,” he said reluctantly. “Who did you come here with this evening?”

“Rosie,” Mina answered. “But she already left.”

“Did she now?” Alastor said, and then laughed. “Mina, my dear, I believe we’ve been set up. She’s the one who talked me into coming here tonight but you’re right, she’s nowhere to be found.”

“It’s not a problem, really Alastor. I’m a big girl, I can see myself home,” Mina said. “There’s just one more thing I need to do.”

As if on cue, a Goetia woman opened the doors and stepped out on the balcony.

“Do you mind?” Alastor asked, irritated at the intrusion. Even if there was a chance that this was this owl woman’s house, he and Mina were clearly in the middle of a private conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Sinner,” she said.

“It’s alright, Alastor, I asked a favor of her," Mina said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Actually, would you be a dear and step inside? Close the doors behind you.” She leaned in and whispered, “And just to be safe, keep a bit of a distance, would you?”

Alastor caught a sinister look in Mina’s eye and catching on, nodded to her.

“My apologies, my lady,” Alastor said as he turned to face the hostess and made his exit.

“Alright, what is it you wanted to see now?” the heiress said to Mina without acknowledging Alastor further. She sounded impatient and bored.

He did as he was told and quietly brought the two doors closed together and stepped away from the glass. Though he couldn’t hear a thing, he could see Mina turn and face into the night, the broken glass at her feet forgotten.

After a moment, he watched in fascination as the Goetia’s body stood a bit straighter and stared at Mina as if in a trance. After what must have been only another 10 seconds, Mina finally turned to face the Goetia who then turned away and went back through the doors, with Mina following close behind.

The heiress walked wordlessly out into the middle of the large hall full of other demons while Mina stopped at Alastor’s side, watching the Hellborn with a coy smile on her face.

Wordlessly, the heiress began to rip off her ballgown.

She tore it off in chunks; first bits of the sleeves and then large strips of the skirt, exposing layer upon layer of silk and tool, before finally revealing skinny, scaled legs that were far from appealing to Alastor’s gaze.

“Darling, what are you doing?” another Goetia said with alarm and ran towards her from the other side of the room. “Gwenore! STOP!”

“I’ve been fucking your nephew!” the woman screamed in what must have been her husband’s face.

“Oh shit,” Mina said with a laugh. “That’s even better than I expected.”

“My neph-“ the man said with a pause, “BUT HE’S FIFTEEN!”

“You did this to her? A Goetia?” Alastor asked, tilting his head.

“IT WAS MY COUSIN BEFORE THAT!” the woman shrieked and as her husband let go of her, she began ripping out the beautiful long feathers that fell down her shoulders from her head.

“I only managed it because she was so unsuspecting but . . . yes. I just put the suggestion in her head that she make a fool of herself,” Mina answered. Neither of them had taken their eyes off the show.

“And sometimes . . . sometimes . . .” the woman was hyperventilating and cackling with hysteria now, eyes gone bloodshot as she continued to rip off bits of clothing and feather. “Sometimes I wonder how good our son will be when he’s more grown!”

A resounding gasp came from all the onlookers at that. ‘Gwenore’ hadn’t screamed that confession as loud as the others, but it was still plenty audible to the dozens of people around her.

“I may have also made her confess her deepest secrets,” Mina said and giggled the same light laugh she had made when she dropped her whiskey glass. “I guess she’s even worse than I judged her for.”

Alastor looked down at Mina, and saw all at once, the potential of having her by his side. Not under his control, not limited by his own ideas and fancy. Completely free and standing next to him as his equal, simply because of her own desire for him. She was more than cruel; she was creative about it. Took pleasure in it, just as he did. And even outside of her remarkable power, Mina was lovely to be around.

“You are stunning,” Alastor said, still watching her.

She looked up at him and her malicious grin turned back to that sweet, innocent smile she had used on him earlier.

“Take me home?” she asked, and what was he to do, but oblige her?

____

Mina had been polite and well-mannered during the cab ride home, looking very composed and in control of herself. It was impressive to Alastor, who had heard tales of women losing their minds to their various animalistic hormone cycles. His own rut got the best of him occasionally, making him more aggressive and likely to lash out than normal. Thankfully the sexual urges were rather dormant in him, even for those two weeks out of every year, and were nothing he couldn’t take care of himself in the privacy of his own place.

But Mina had all the signs that she was aroused now that he was looking for them. Her vertical pupils were completely round, she had a red blush to her face and even across her collar bone, and she fidgeted often with her legs, crossing, and uncrossing them several times. To an untrained eye, she was nothing less than a lady while seated next to him in the small cab that was barely tall enough to accompany the height of his ears, but Alastor could tell she was doing a fine job of restraining herself.

Once the excruciating ride back to The Pit was over, Mina casually took his hand and guided him towards her apartment. This area of the neighborhood must have been far from where most of the torture took place as it was fairly quiet, only the occasional scream came from the lake of fire he could see from between the apartment buildings. It didn’t have the same quaint charm as Cannibal Town, but Alastor had to admit, the gothic splendor of the place was admirable.

“Well, I guess that settles it,” Mina said as she walked him up to a front door he gathered to be her own. “You must really have no ill feelings towards me.”

“Did I just pass some test I wasn’t aware I was taking?”

“Oh, definitely,” Mina answered, that wicked smile back in place. “No one can cross the threshold into Abadon’s territory if they mean harm to anyone who lives here. You would have burst into flames the second your feet hit the pavement here.”

He felt his ears shoot straight up in surprise.

“You were willing to set me ablaze to make sure I wasn’t still after your soul?” he asked, shocked and impressed.

Mina shrugged and turned her back on him, producing a key and unlocking her front door.

“You were willing to burn me to get my soul. Fair is fair.”

She held the door open for him and gave a welcoming gesture for him to follow her in.

“I really shouldn’t,” he said.

She frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Because if I go in there, I’m afraid I might actually stay. And tonight . . . tonight is not the right night for that.”

Now she was positively pouting at him. “I’m not langered, Alastor. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

“That is not-“ he began, and then sighed and tried again. “I’m sorry if I don’t know a more polite and proper way to address this issue, but I’m concerned that your . . . ‘timing’ . . . if I may, paired with your alcohol consumption, may allow you to consent to things you wouldn’t normally consent to.”

Her jaw dropped and for a moment, Alastor worried he had deeply offended her.

“You burned down a bar and caused damage to an entire city block.”

“That’s not exactly unusual for me-“

“You locked my best friends up for hours!”

“Again, Mina-“

“You trapped me in an alley and tried to burn me alive!”

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.”

“And now you’re being a gentleman?!”

He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but once again, Mina left him speechless.

She started laughing.

After a beat, Alastor’s own smile turned to that of strained confusion to genuine affection. She had a point. It sounded a bit silly when put that way, but it didn’t mean he was going to change his mind.

“You’re insane,” she said, “and I think I really like you.”

He stepped closer into her space, tilted her chin up slowly with his index finger, and placed a single, lingering kiss to her lips.

She sighed as they parted. “Are you sure?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” he answered, “I’m very sure. Because I’d very much like to have more than one evening with you, and I think if I take this one, I will have ruined that chance.”

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “that is the loveliest thing a man has ever said to me.”

“Dinner then? Two nights from now?”

“I can’t wait,” she smiled. “Where?”

“My radio tower. I’ll cook.”

Alastor had told her a year ago, before he had sent her running, that he had never had a guest there before. He was counting on her remembering that and based on the shocked but pleased look on her face, she did.

_____

Two days later, Mina was feeling much more in control of herself. She still wasn’t sure if she really would have thought less of Alastor if he had stayed the night with her that evening; especially because in her fantasies, it had been a wonderful time. But the fact that he had been so considerate of her, she knew in the long run, only made the sudden return of her feelings for him much stronger.

Alastor made her feel like an addict falling off the wagon. It wasn’t a gradual decent; she was right back to that evening in the park before he had offered her his first deal. Mina was falling for him, hard and fast, all over again, after having spent hardly an hour in his presence. And the only part of her that even cared a little was her pride. Mina had enjoyed her years as a strong, independent bachelorette. Although it was often lonely, and sexually frustrating, it gave her a sense of freedom that she had killed for when alive. But her heart and her body wanted Alastor so damn much, that together they drowned out that pesky voice of independence as she stood under his radio tower, looking up.

She knew where it was; everyone in Pentagram City did. The giant, black and red tower soared over the heart of the city and was impossible to miss. But it was raised up on a deadly looking lattice of support beams, with no ground floor entrance, or even a ladder to climb.

How was she supposed to get up there? How did he get up there?

Something in the corner of her eye moved, down near her feet, and she glanced at it too late. The shadowy hand had broken free from its camouflaged surroundings and already had her by the ankle and even her cat-like reflexes weren’t fast enough to react by the time she was dissolving into darkness herself.

She felt the sensation of being pulled up and seconds later, was looking out over a red-tinted cityscape.

“I suppose I should have warned you,” Alastor’s voice said from behind her, “but it really is the easiest way up here. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to try and make that climb. Everyone who has, has ended up in the airwaves.”

He was setting food down on a small rectangular table set for two, pressed up against a large window, as if to give the diners a perfect view.

Mina turned a slow 360, taking in the whole room.

It was nothing like what she imagined a typical radio tower to look like. She had envisioned a cramped, windowless room, with walls consisting of nothing but dials and controls she couldn’t even begin to understand the workings of. She had seen videos of phone operator rooms, women wheeling back and forth, placing wires into one port after another, and that was the closest thing her early 20th century mind could come up with.

This place was exactly the opposite of all that. It was a large round room, surrounded by several floor to ceiling windows that gave the occupants a nearly uninterrupted view of the city below. There was only one small control panel with a few dials, and one old-fashioned radio from the 1930’s sitting on a stand next to it. Alastor must have done the majority of his work using his magic rather than actual technology, which appeared to be only supplemental to his tasks.

And the décor was cozy, giving the room a lived-in feeling, rather than what one would expect in a professional setting.

There were antlers and wildlife paintings mounted on the few narrow walls of the room, and a long and deep-seated couch placed against the opposite window from the dining table. A few cabinets and shelves placed strategically throughout the room, holding everything from books, to liquor bottles, to shrunken heads.

“Not what you expected?” Alastor asked after she turned back around to face him.

“It’s lovely,” she answered truthfully. “You live here?”

“Well, it’s not the only room, but it is my favorite.”

She quickly scanned the room again. There were no doors indicating the existence of other rooms. Or an exit. Mina should have felt trapped then, but instead she felt safely secluded, much like she did in her own home.

“Ah, yes, well,” Alastor said, realizing what she was noticing. “Since no one else has ever been here, I didn’t have to think of a design that would accommodate anything other than my preferred method of moving about.”

So, he just moved from room to room, via shadow? For a man who could conjure just about anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers, Mina supposed that made sense.

“No one else has really ever been here?” she asked.

“No one,” he answered, and pulled a chair away from the table, indicating for her to sit down. She did and he joined her, sitting opposite from her.

“And why me? Why now?” she had an idea, but she wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t like to hear it said out loud.

“My biggest problem with you, Mina,” Alastor began, “is that for some inexplicable reason since we’ve met, I’ve been desperate for you to know everything about me. And vice versa.”

Mina felt her face grow warm. He had been honest then, when he admitted to her that their time spent together wasn’t all just to get her soul. Their hours and hours of conversations, often deeply personal, had been as real and intimate as she imagined.

“Speaking of,” Alastor continued, “please, try the food.”

She did, taking a tentative bite of rice and sausage. It looked to her like some kind of curry and must have taken at least a couple hours to make. Just the first bite had such an explosion of flavor and mixed spices, far more than her European palate was used to. This is what he should have tried to bargain for her soul over.

“That’s positively deadly,” she said with a smile.

“Not too spicey?” he asked. He was smiling as well, as always, but something in his eyes and the extra crackle in the static of his voice made Mina think he was a little nervous.

“No. I mean, it’s more than I’m used to, but it’s incredible. Really.”

He visibly relaxed a little then and Mina’s heart gave a little flutter. Alastor really had been nervous, and it was entirely too sweet to think he cared that much about her opinion.

“It’s called jambalaya. It was my mother’s recipe,” he admitted.

Oh . . .

Mina felt the significance of the evening shift into something more serious. This was the closest he could come to introducing her to his mother and men didn’t do that unless they were pursuing something serious. Her heart began to beat just a little harder at the realization, but less out of nerves, and more out of excitement. That notion sat just fine with her.

“Here,” he said, setting a glass of red wine before her. There was no bottle in sight, but again, this was Alastor. She wondered if she would ever get used to his ability to just create things out of thin air like that. “It’ll help if the spice starts to build up too much for you.”

Mina recognized the flavor as a Chianti, which was normally a dryer wine than she preferred, but she had to admit, it paired wonderfully with the spice of the jambalaya. She would never have though to mix Italian with Creole, but clearly, Alastor knew what he was doing.

It was hard to say how long their dinner lasted. Their conversation continued far longer than the meal and it seemed there wasn’t a topic they didn’t cover.

He spoke in much more detail about his mother than he ever had before, and Mina felt an empty kind of ache that she hadn’t acknowledged in years. She never had such an unconditional bond with anyone. Even her baby sister, who she had loved more than anyone, had distanced herself from Mina by the end of her life. Rather than feel envious of Alastor though, she felt relief. This man, as deadly and cold as he could be, had a soft side. Was capable of love and empathy for another person. If Mina were ever to let herself be with another person again, he would have to toe the same line between psychopath and caring partner that she did.

The conversation turned more to their work, both while alive and in Hell, and how it had defined them so much as the people they were now. They shared the same love of music, were driven by the same desire to not be controlled by the kind of people they loathed the most, and to be powerful enough to feel free.

It was so easy to talk with him about these things, to be here in the comfort of his home for hours, when normally she would begin to feel her social battery draining and get the urge to leave for the peace and quiet of her own solitude. She wanted the opposite of that. She wanted to stay here with him and never, ever leave.

Eventually, the conversation did come to a lull, and Alastor asked if she would like to dance with him.

Mina felt that feeling return, that this was really the start of something big between them, something that could be permanent, and eagerly took his hand.

The radio hummed to life as together, they strode to the middle of the room, and Mina stepped into his arms as the music began to play.

Life is a song, let’s sing it together

Let’s take our hearts and dip them in rhyme

Let’s learn the words, let’s learn the music together

hoping the song lasts for a long, long time

Life is a song that goes on forever

Love’s old refrain can never go wrong

Let’s strike the note Mendelssohn wrote concerning

spring weather

Let’s sing together and make life a song

Mina was familiar with the song, although love songs had never really been her cup of tea, and it had been popular on Earth a few years after her death. She couldn’t help but pay more attention to the lyrics now though, as Alastor moved them in gentle circles around the room. If she had read a scene like this in a book, she would have scoffed and called it cheesy and unrealistic. But there in real life, feeling for the first time how easy it was to fall in love with someone when they were actually right for you, Mina began to understand what those romance novels were trying to tell her all along.

As the last of the lyrics were sung, before the music had completely faded out, they were kissing. Mina should have been out of practice, but just as their kiss on the balcony had been, it was perfect. There was no hesitation in it, but it was slow and tender . . . at first. She could taste the spices and wine on his tongue, smell the lingering scent of Spanish moss and cypress on his skin, and feel the strength of his power emanating from his body beneath her hands.

This time it was her who increased the intensity of the kiss, moving her hands from his jaw line up into his hair, playfully scratching at the short clipped black hair before tangling her fingers in the longer red strands. She felt Alastor’s arms tighten around her in response, his own hands wandering lower until they were gripping her hips.

He broke away from her lips only to then leave a trail of kisses across her jaw and she moaned when his mouth reached her neck, using the sharp points of his teeth to take a feathery light bite out of her pulse point before kissing away the playful marks. She tilted her head back while still holding the back of his, encouraging him to continue.

Alastor was a full head taller than her, and while standing it was difficult and awkward for him to go any lower. His breath was hot and heavy against her exposed neck, a signal to Mina that he was just as needful for her as she was for him.

“The couch?” she managed to pant out, wanting desperately to be somewhere where he could be properly on top of her.

He shook his head. “Allow me,” he said, and with another kiss, Mina felt that now familiar feeling of shadow wrapping its essence around her, and the room dissolved into darkness.

When they reappeared, they were in a much smaller, windowless room but it wasn’t cramped or claustrophobic. Rather, it felt like the bedroom in a quaint, cozy cabin. The walls were wood paneled, in a well-done, rustic kind of way. The only pieces of furniture were an extra-long bed tucked into a corner, made neatly up with a dark green quilt, and a small mahogany dresser on the opposite wall. There didn’t seem to be a closet of any kind, but there was one door that was left just slightly ajar that appeared to lead to a bathroom that must have been near the size of the bedroom itself by what she could see of the distant wall.

Mina noticed all of this in a distracted, half paying attention sort of way, considering her focus was almost entirely preoccupied by the red deer demon looming over her. Their mouths were on each other after half a second of her processing their new location; their hands exploring each other in a much more forward way than before.

Her hands slipped under Alastor’s jacket, grazing over his shirt in an attempt to feel as much of him as possible. Quickly losing patience with the restrictiveness of the item, she pulled her hands back out from underneath the jacket and began unbuttoning it until she could shove it off his shoulders and discard it behind him. He dutifully helped pull his arms and hands out of the sleeves and once free, they were back on her own body, untying the sash made up into a bow at her navel to loosen the fit of her blouse so that he could pull the hem out from the top of her skirt.

Alastor’s hands found skin as they explored under her shirt, ghosting up her sides and tickling her ribs. She froze at the contact, pleasurable as it was, as it occurred to her for the first time that she’d have to take her blouse off.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, noticing her sharp intake of breath.

“Nothing, I just . . .” she tried to explain but hesitated.

“We can stop,” he said simply, not a trace of disappointment in his tone.

“I don’t want to stop,” she responded quickly; desperately. His small grin twitched at the corners at her reply.

“Then tell me what I just did wrong,” he said, his voice teasing but understanding.

“Nothing, you . . . you’re perfect,” she sighed, knowing what she had to do. “I need to show you something.”

Mina reached behind her and undid her zipper herself and pulled her blouse up over her head, standing before him in her bra. She knew he would be able to see the beginning of her spots across the tops of her shoulders, even if he couldn’t see them trailing down her back from his position.

His smile widened further, though he looked a little confused.

“I was hoping to see more than that tonight,” he quipped.

Mina frowned. “You don’t mind them?”

“Are we talking about the same things?” he asked with a playful tilt of his head.

She rolled her eyes at his inuendo and gestured with her chin to her shoulders.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows raised in understanding. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

“Well they’re . . . they’re hideous,” she said in a small voice.

“Mina,” he chided, “I don’t think you know what hideous is.” He leaned over her and placed several small kisses along her shoulders, his hands coming behind her to trail his claws down the pattern of spots before cupping her ass and pulling her tightly against him. “You look absolutely delicious.”

The heat between her legs rekindled at his words and she aggressively began kissing him again, growling a bit when he responded in kind, biting at her lower lip. She got back to work undressing him, finding his belt buckle and making quick work of it, before untucking his shirt from his pants and working first at his bow tie and then at his shirt buttons.

In seconds she had everything undone and began yanking his shirt off him the same way she had made quick work of his jacket.

She broke the kiss to get a glimpse of the present she had just unwrapped and then took pause, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight before her.

“I told you, you don’t know what hideous is,” Alastor said, in a quiet, calm voice, but his smile was the smallest she had ever seen it.

Mina touched some of the scars etched into the skin of his chest. There were dozens of them, all jagged and irregular, many of them clearly made by teeth. Scars were so rare in Hell, as Sinners always healed eventually from their injuries, unless they were made by very specific weapons or magic.

She didn’t find them to be hideous at all but they made her incredibly sad, even before she knew the cause.

“What happened to you?” she finally asked.

“Nothing. Not since my death, at least,” he answered. “I was quite far gone by the time the dogs started in on me, I didn’t feel any of it. Who knows how or why we take the forms we do as souls.”

Mina thought back to her own last moments of life there on the beach, the jaguar’s weight on her, and the teeth that ripped open her neck. She must have seemed very foolish to Alastor for being insecure about her spots. It really dawned on her then, that though he was a powerful Overlord now, he was once a human like she had been. Fragile, mortal, and very capable of succumbing to violence.

She ran her hands down his chest and then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, and buried her face in his chest, kissing several of his scars as she did so. The hurt in her heart for the life he had led, and the way he had died, settled in her chest like a knife.

“Mina,” he whispered, soothing her, and guided her chin upwards, as he leaned down to capture her lips with his own.

The rest of their clothes were divulged more slowly after that, each item being removed as if exposing the most precious gift imaginable. They explored each other’s bodies with near worshipful touches, delighting in the similarities and differences. They caressed each other’s ears, admired the way their limbs almost matched in skin tone, as they each darkened at the elbows and knees, down to fingertips and toes. Mina stroked his antlers with her hands, as her mouth found a sensitive spot on his neck, and her toes playfully ran across his hooves that began at the balls of his feet.

They were lying in bed together then, on top of the still made-up quilt and both completely naked, his erection teasing her as she felt it against her stomach, making her ache for more. He was busy still tasting every inch of her skin that he could get a hold of when she noticed a surprise flicker of red in the corner of her eye and peered down his backside, getting the first good look of what would soon become her favorite piece of his anatomy; the little secret only she was ever able to know about him.

“You have a tail!” she gasped out in surprise.

He made something between a groan and a sigh, his mouth occupied with sucking and biting at her right breast.

“Alastor!” she squealed and pushed at his shoulders until he relented.

“Unfortunately so,” he huffed, not enjoying the interruption as much as she was.

“Let me see it,” she said, trying sit to up.

“Later,” he said, keeping her down.

“Please,” she pouted, “you see mine all the time.”

“Yours is not an insult to your character,” he replied, not budging.

She reached her own long tail around, using it to stroke the back of one of his calf muscles.

“Pleeeaase,” she said, sultrier this time.

He reached and snatched at her tail, sliding his hand down it until he had it by tip, and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before letting it go, and settling his weight on top of her with finality.

“I said ‘later’.”

“Tease,” she said before he quieted her mouth with his own, and then reached between them and down between her thighs. A finger spread through her already wet folds, easily stroking her up and down from opening to clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she panted against his mouth, feeling the vibration of his low chuckle, clearly pleased with the reaction he was getting from her.

No one had ever touched her that way, besides herself. Every other time for her had just been a quick fuck, the man taking what he wanted with her until he was finished. It was always just enough to leave her desiring more but completely unsatisfied, like an itch that was never properly scratched.

She was almost mortified when she felt herself begin to purr but Alastor quickened his pace, circling her clit in tighter, faster circles, spurred on by her reaction. It was enough of a sign from him that he liked her purring, so she relaxed and let her body react the way it wanted to.

Then he began working his way down her body, kissing her neck, spending a moment at each breast, and then her stomach. Her nerves got the better of her when he tried to go lower, and she shot upright moments before he settled his face between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He looked mortified at her reaction, eyes wide and smile strained.

“Do you not like that?” he asked, reaching out for her hips. She let his hand settle there, thankful for the reassuring touch, but still felt tense and unsettled.

“You-you don’t have to do that,” she stammered.

His eyes stayed steadily on hers. “I know I don’t have to, Mina. Why don’t you want me to?”

“Men don’t . . . men don’t do that to women,” she said, sounding naïve even to her own ears, but she just couldn’t fathom being on the reciprocating end of oral.

He seemed to relax a little as understanding came to his features.

“I promise you, the good ones do,” he said, guiding her back to laying down beneath him.

She followed but was still insecure.

“You don’t have to,” she repeated, but his mouth was already on the flesh of the inside of her thigh, making her shiver with desire and nerves.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But please, allow me to try?” he asked, peering up from her, mouth only inches from her sex. When she gave a small, hesitant nod, she felt the breath of his sigh warming her flesh before his mouth was on her and she was suddenly very okay with what he was doing.

His tongue matched the rhythm his fingers had made moments before, alternating between long strokes and quick circles. Although she had no experience with it, Mina knew there was no getting better at this than he was. She felt her face heating up as the pleasure overwhelmed her, overstimulating her senses until she was no longer purring, just gasping for air and moaning loudly. She felt tingly from head to toe and when he shifted his weight so that he could curl two fingers inside her, stroking her walls as he sucked at her clit, Mina reached down and took hold of his antlers, watching him work her until she began to see stars. Within seconds she was cumming hard; a deeper, longer orgasm than she had ever experienced.

She collapsed back on the bed, breathing deeply as she felt her body going limp. Alastor had released her from his mouth, wiping his chin with his free hand, and she had a moment where she realized she hadn’t felt the sharpness of his teeth or his claws during that whole wonderful experience, before he was crawling back up her, repeating in reverse the kissing trail up her body until he was back at her mouth. There was a slight lingering scent and taste of her own sex on his face, and surprisingly to her, it only helped turn her on all over again.

It was then she noticed his fingers were still inside of her, and as he lazily stroked his tongue against hers in a deep, sensual kiss, he began moving his fingers again. Long, slow movements, right at the shallow part of her entrance, curling his fingers so that the pads of his fingertips put just the right pressure on that sensitive internal part she barely had registered the existence of before that evening.

Mina moaned against him as he worked her up again, impressively fast, considering she could still feel the aftereffects of her first orgasm.

Right as she was beginning to feel her walls clench at his fingers in earnest, he pulled away from her and settled his weight differently until their hips were perfectly aligned.

“May I?” he asked, but she was already spreading her legs to wrap around him.

“Oh please,” she begged, feeling the tip of him right at her entrance. “Please, please, please,” she whispered.

He was big and now she truly understood his need for foreplay with her in order to prepare her to take him. He guided himself in until he was buried as deep as he could go, the girth and length of his cock stretching her to the point of stinging for a moment before she felt herself relaxing. Alastor looked into her eyes as if searching for any change of heart or hesitation from her. Finding nothing but wanton eagerness in her expression, he began to move.

Mina would later find him to be a rather quiet lover, not one for dirty talk or frequent noises in general, but he did moan quite audibly with that first thrust; a low sound, the static affect breaking it up and making it sound much deeper than his normal voice. She cradled the back of his head as he breathed into her neck, stroking the base of his ears and playing with the soft tufts of fur there.

Together they found a rhythm, a lovely friction that completely filled her up, stroked her inner walls, and rubbed against her clit just right when their hips came together. Mina would never understand why missionary was considered such a ‘vanilla’ position. She loved being face to face with Alastor like this, watching his eyes go black with desire, while also being chest to chest, and hip to hip. He was everywhere, holding her, on top of her, filling her up. No other position could give her this kind of intimacy and paired with the physical pleasure of it, it was perfect for their first time together.

She was so close now, feeling right on the edge of her second orgasm but she needed just a little more. Changing the tilt of her hips, she was able to relax her hips into spreading wider, encouraging Alastor to go deeper and harder into her. He responded immediately to the lusty noises she made as the change in angle built her up, stretching her to the point of nearly being painful, and it was delicious. Her orgasm slammed into her, making her clench hard onto his cock and it was all she could do but whimper as it seemed to continue on forever. Letting go of her grip on the mix of hair and fur near the base of his ear, her hand found an antler again, surprised and aroused that it had grown much thicker and longer as he chased his own completion.

Her body finally began to relax as she came down from her orgasm, just beginning to feel the first stages of overstimulation, when his movements became erratic, and she felt the stinging bite of his teeth into the flesh in the crook of her collarbone as he came inside her. For the first time, without the worry of pregnancy involved in the act, she found she loved the sensation of his cock twitching inside her as he coated her walls with his seed, making her feel incredibly satisfied. She basked in the feeling of being bred; the feminine pride of being claimed, by both his cum and his bite.

Alastor was slowly coming down from his own high; his antlers retreated back to their usual two-pointed form, the blackness in his eyes returning to their normal shade of red.

“I’m sorry,” he panted but she was already purring again. “Was that too . . .”

He trailed off, and she brushed her nose against his, until he gave a soft laugh and responded with the same motion and kissed her.

“I like you like that,” she said. “You can do that to me again, anytime you want.”

They smiled at each other, like the two idiots absolutely smitten with each other that they were, and enjoyed another tender kiss before Alastor finally pulled out of her and shifted onto his side. Mina snuggled into his arms, burying her face into his scarred chest, and began purring in earnest as he lazily stroked her hair and the backs of her ears.

In post orgasmic bliss, they fell into a light sleep like that, still on top of the blankets and tangled up in each other.

A short while later, Mina began to stir, feeling a chill against her bare skin as the heat of their lovemaking finally dissipated from her body. Alastor moved against her, also waking up, and Mina smiled when she noticed the sound of a radio humming to life that accompanied him when he awoke. As much as she would come to love watching him sleep, she would always find that little sound affect to be the most fucking adorable thing about him.

That, and his tail.

She sat upright.

“Alright, love. Let me see it.”

His eyebrows came down in a frown, already knowing what she was asking for, and was not amused.

“I’d rather you join me in the bath,” he said, trying to lure her into something else. Anything else, really.

“You said you’d let me see it!” she whined.

“I only recall specifically using the word ‘later.’ I did not specify when that would be.”

“Alastor,” she said sternly.

“Fine,” he huffed but then continued to lay where he was rather than moving and making it easier to see.

“Well?” she asked, gesturing for him to move.

“I am neither standing for this, nor will I lay on my stomach. This is not a physician’s exam and I refuse to make this anymore humiliating for me.”

“Jaysus Christ, you are a child,” she huffed and got up on her knees so she could more easily peer over him to see his backside.

He curled forward and bit her on her outer thigh, making her jump and squeal, but she didn’t relent.

There it was, in all its fluffy glory, red like his hair but with a black stripe along the bottom side where most deer had stripe of white. It was . . . really cute. But she would never tell him that as it would devastate his massive but fragile ego, and she had a feeling that was exactly why he hid it from view.

She reached over and touched it, feeling the incredible softness for only a second before he reacted viscerally, turning around and grabbing at her hand.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Sorry,” she said, immediately regretting it. “I’m sorry. If it really bothers you that much, I am. Really sorry.”

He sighed, relaxing at her apology, and pulled her down with him to return to the position they had been in before.

She peppered his chest with kisses, purring again as it seemed to soothe him, and listened as his thundering heart began to slow down. He really was incredibly insecure about that tail of his.

“You know,” she dared, once she was sure he had finally calmed all the way down, “you might like it being touched if you just let me try again.”

He rolled on top of her, kissing her hard and pressing her into the mattress, before standing up and leaving her in bed.

“Ready for that bath?” he asked, holding his hand out to her, completely ignoring her statement.

Next Chapter ->

She took it, eagerly following him out of the room, enjoying the full view of his tail and naked backside that it awarded her, but she didn’t dare try to touch it again . . . that night.

@saccharine-nectarine, @inuhalfdemon

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x oc #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin #alastor #hazbin alastor smut #the fire in the sin

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assortedseaglass · 1 year ago

Text

We Have This Hope - III

Osferth x Lady-in-Waiting

[Masterlist]

Story Tags: Fluff, Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence, Strong Language, Religious Guilt, Smut

Notes: Barely proofed. Will do later. Hope you enjoy my loves. H x

Aefry and Osferth’s mutual fascination continued over the week and, much to Aefry’s delight, she was provided with plenty of chances to see him, for wherever Aethelflaed went, Uhtred seemed to follow. What’s more, wherever Aethelflaed and Uhtred went, so too did her ladies and his band of warriors.

Following their fleeting meeting after mass, Aefry had glimpsed Osferth on her way back from the meadows just beyond the keep’s edge. She’d spent the day there with her book of psalms and her pages of drawings. Butterflies, plants, the skies above her and the ripple of the Itchen river. Wrapped in a shawl and sat beneath the old oak that guarded the grassland, Aefry was content to draw, read and daydream. Of her parents, of life beyond the keep, of warriors, of the boy with rough-shorn hair and worried eyes…

The day was drawing in when she made her way back to the warmth of the keep, the grey sky purpling as the sun descended below the trees. A brisk coolness settled on her cheeks, and she felt them turn red. These transitory days of autumn, like those of spring, brought a promise of something on the horizon that only the birds above them could see. In a life so still and, though she was grateful of her position, monotonous, Aefry found the quiet adventure in them thrilling. She thrilled too when, against the darkening sky, a white horse gleamed. Walking slowly, it’s head bobbing with each step, it looked like a spectre. Her cheeks burned all the hotter when she saw the man leading the horse to the stables.

Head downcast like that of his steed, he too seemed aglow in the twilight. Pale skin smooth as clay, his breath taking flight against the cold air. With his shoulders slumped, Aefry saw not the shy yet brave warrior monk she had become so intrigued by those last days, but a boy. Somehow, despite his quiet courage, he seemed defeated. Not once had he looked up to see his progress towards the stable, glancing only at his feet as they shuffled across the hard earth. He was missing the gentle sunset, had not stopped to look in the direction of the blackbird singing in the hedgerow, not noticed how she stood at the edge of the field, watching. She had to know what troubled him. Spurred on by that desire, any decorum left Aefry as she hurried forward.

At the rustle of leaves underfoot nearby, Osferth glanced up. Catching each other’s eyes, they both abruptly stood still. Osferth, hand at his sword, gawked at her. Aefry wobbled on the spot, having been caught rushing towards him. The white horse huffed and a great cloud of its breath rose into the sky.

The look that lingered between them was a second longer than proper, and Aefry became once more a young lady of propriety. Smiling gently, she moved slowly towards Osferth. He glanced quickly at the white horse, patting its thick neck as if finding something to do. Not even Uhtred or the King stirred this much nervousness in him.

“Forgive me, Sir-”

“Osferth,” he corrected. Aefry was relieved to see a small smile curve his lips.

“Osferth,” she whispered his name. To say it aloud, with no title, seemed indecent. “I am on my way back to my mistress, but when I saw you-” Aefry teetered on the precipice of this confession. Did it reveal too much? “Forgive me. I thought you looked sad.”

Osferth looked straight at her then, and the hand that rubbed the horse’s neck fell to his side. “Not sad, my Lady, just defeated.”

“Defeated?” She took a step closer to him, eager to know what caused the good man’s disappointment.

Osferth saw the worried crease of her brow and hurried to reassure her.

“Finan, he has been teaching me to spar. ‘Properly,’ he says.” It was as though the moon had risen early. All at once, Aefry saw the purple blooming under his eyes and the small grazes to his cheeks. When he held out his hands, dropping the reins of his horse to reveal the smattering of bruises across his knuckles, she gasped and took hold of them.

How intoxicating it was, this woman’s worry for him. Excitement, rapidly followed by shame, overcame Osferth and with all the effort he could muster he took his hands back from her. How wanton, to crave more of it.

“Wait, please,” Aefry said, turning in the direction she arrived from. Osferth watched her reach the edge of the meadow and crouch by a green mat of vegetation. In the low light, it was as if watching someone ascend from deep water. As she walked back to him, a handful of green clutched in her hand, she slowly came back into focus. Osferth shuffled from foot to foot and swallowed, looking quickly back to the horse. Blinking quickly, he saw the outline of her inside his eyelids. The ripple of her long hair, the sturdy footsteps towards him, her silhouette growing ever closer as her hips swayed side to side beneath the modest tunic she wore. He knew at once he would recount the image of her walking slowly towards him in the twilight. That night, in all likelihood. Osferth blushed and bowed his head. His boots were caked in mud, no doubt his tunic torn and much the same. He flattened the hair on his forehead and, shame yet again welling up inside him, hastily dropped his arm.

“I acknowledge my sin to you, and hide not my inequity-”

“Pardon?” Aefry had begun tearing the leaves in her hand as she stopped before Osferth.

“I-er, she is-she is restless,” Osferth gestured to the horse.

Even with his head bowed, his body stooping to appear small, he towered over her. Aefry came eye level with his leather cuirass, and the cross the rested there. A good man indeed. Funny, Aefry thought, that she found the holy men of the keep so pious they bordered on arrogance, boring to the point of inertia, or else more sinful than those they preached to. Power, she supposed, was the currency of man, and there was plenty for those who had taken holy orders under the command of the King. In Osferth, however, the presence of the cross at his chest calmed her, for she had seen the truth that he was a good man. Ruled not by power, but by his kindness and conscience. A true man of God. He was still shuffling uncomfortably at her side.

“Well then,” Aefry said with a gentle smile. “We best get you both inside.” Her twinkling eyes met his and Osferth’s heart drummed unsteadily in his chest. She turned on her heel and made her way towards the stables. With the click of his teeth, Osferth and his steed followed eagerly in her wake.

The closer they drew to the dimly lit stable, the clearer the voices within it became. That is to say, one voice. The two men inside barely noticed as Aefry pushed open the door and slipped inside. Instead, it was the sound of horse hooves on the dampened ground that told the men they were no longer alone.

“Hurt your bollocks as well as the rest of your body?” Finan said to Osferth, indicating the horse he hadn’t ridden and laughing heartily. Sihtric smirked but continued brushing the dark horse he rode. Beside them, Aefry appeared from a small stall with a bowl of water.

“Fuck!” Finan jumped back at the small woman’s seemingly sudden arrival.

Blushing at the language, Aefry laughed. “Perhaps, Osferth, you should take sparring lessons from me. He may be the brute but I clearly have the cunning.” She playfully nudged Finan’s shoulder and found he didn’t budge. It made her giggle all the more and the three men stared at her. Sihtric in question, Osferth in amazement and Finan in mirthful admiration. Unaware, Aefry continued tearing the plant in her hand and adding it to the bowl.

“What have you there?” Sihtric’s voice was quiet.

“Yarrow,” Aefry offered him one of the flowering stems. “It helps to soothe swelling.” She watched as Sihtric turned the flower between his fingers. Despite his height, his fearsome, bicolour gaze and endless stoicism, there was gentleness to this man she was certain many overlooked. To all of them. Whereas it was plain in Osferth, behind the tough exteriors of Sihtric and Finan lay good-hearted souls. Sihtric with his childlike wonder, Finan with his easy humour. Uhtred too possessed a tenderness, if the way he looked at Aethelflaed was anything to judge.

Silence, but for the huffing and shuffling of the horses, settled about the stable. Aefry worked the yarrow and water into a paste, unaware of the silent exchange occurring above her head.

Osferth, still shy around his adoptive comrades and overcome with an emotion entirely foreign to him in the presence of Aefry, looked everywhere in the stable but her. Occasionally, as he glanced between the ceiling’s beams or the hay-strewn floor, he caught either Finan or Sihtric’s eyes. Sihtric, in his usual way, fixed him with a knowing stare somewhere between teasing and curiosity. Each time Osferth caught Finan’s eye, however, he entered into a silent battle with the Gael.

Finan indicated Aefry with his head, encouraging Osferth to step closer, or else would mouth instructions. “Talk to her!” “Say something!”. Once or twice, he even caught Finan making lewd gestures. When the Gael balled his fist before his crotch, Osferth’s eyes widened and he darted into one of the stalls. In doing so he brushed against Aefry’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt beneath her shawl sent a surge of lightning through him.

Flustered by the commotion of his own sudden movement, Osferth almost lost track of where he was and what he was doing. He span around. “I’m sorry, my Lady-” Osferth’s voice died. Aefry was watching him with a smile. No annoyance at his carelessness, worry no longer knitting her brow. Simply smiling at him.

Though bolder than he was, Osferth had noticed in his few meetings with the lady-in-waiting, of which this was the third, that, like him, Aefry was content with silence. He wished then that he had the courage for idle chatter. This lingering silence was torturous. The more she looked at him, and the more he looked at her, the more likely it seemed to him that heaven truly was real and not just a tool to frighten men into subjection.

“Let me see your hand again,” Behind Aefry, Finan walked past the stall and winked. Osferth didn’t move, and so Aefry came to him. Mistaking his infatuation for his earlier disappointment, she reached out and took his hand. Osferth almost whimpered. He bit the inside of his cheek to silence himself and released a ragged breath through his nose.

“I’m sorry, but the yarrow will help.”

Osferth let out a shaky laugh at her unknowing sweetness. “‘Tis fine.” When she began massaging the yarrow into his knuckles, Osferth held his breath, for never before could he remember being touched with such gentleness.

He barely remembered his mother. Sometimes, he thought of her running her hand over his head, but was unsure if this was a memory or merely something his mind had conjured up in the absence of her. When he entered the monastery, it was with the clap of his uncle Leofric’s hand at his back and a promise that he would always be near.

In their memory, Osferth touched the cross at his chest. Aefry’s eyes flickered there but she asked no questions, and began rolling a torn piece of cloth about his hand.

Behind the walls of the monastery, Osferth knew nothing but prayer and penance.

The blond hair his mother had allowed to grow long was roughly shorn, his clothes were replaced with itchy hand-me-down robes, and despite having lived so meagrely before, he would have given anything to sleep on the hay mattress of his uncle Leofric’s rather than the wooden board and blanket of his shared quarters.

That first room he shared with two other boys, Arric and Hablendan. He did not need to ask why they were sent to the monastery. The abbots looked at the three boys with an obvious disdain that they did not show the other novitiates. They were woken between matins and prime, then set to work preparing breakfast for the sleeping monastery. After a long day of work and prayer, Osferth and his companions would say compline, or vigil before Sunnundaeg, and await the abbot to permiss them sleep, long after everyone else had retired.

Bastards. Shame of father and family. That was why.

“A stain upon the good King’s virtue.”

“Nothing but a whore’s shame.”

“It would have been far better if you had never been born.”

When Hablendan succumbed to a fever aged eleven, the penitential psalms were hurried, his anointing near forgot, and the abbots slung him in a haphazard grave beyond the monastery wall. Only Osferth and Aerric kept vigil.

Arric left the monastery suddenly, and from time to time Osferth imagined he had run away with a tradesman or visiting abbess. That way he could believe a life beyond that harsh place existed. A monastery in a warmer climate perhaps, or a new life altogether.

“Osferth?”

So tender was her voice that Osferth thought he’d imagined it. The voice of Hablendan or Arric. Perhaps even his uncle or mother.

He blinked in the dim light, and felt a warmth about his hands. She had taken both in her own, and held them gently before her. Her eyes, a muddy mixture of browns, were looking up at him with concern.

“‘Tis fine,” he said again, although the lump in his throat betrayed any attempt at ease. Aefry nodded, held his hand a moment longer, then let go. Osferth twitched awkwardly before coughing and clearing the stall to make way for his horse. That he had been about to take her hand once more, Aefry did not know.

“Will your mistress not worry where you are?” Sihtric was heaving his horse’s saddle onto one of the stable beams.

“If Lord Uhtred is with her, I doubt it entirely,” Aefry said with a smile. “Her mother, however-” The men laughed. “I am away. Remove the dressing in the morning and the swelling should have gone down,” she addressed Osferth. “If not, seek me out and I will gather more.”

“He surely will,” Finan stepped forward with yet another gleeful glance in Osferth’s direction as he wrapped a cloak around his shoulders. “I’ll walk you back.”

Osferth’s heart sank. He had not known Finan long, but it was enough to see the long looks women gave him. Wit, kindness, honour, strength. How could he possibly compete? Aefry and Finan were backing out of the door when Sihtric nudged Osferth’s shoulder and nodded in their direction. Aefry was looking hopefully at him over Finan’s shoulder.

“Goodnight Osferth, goodnight Sir,” Sihtric nodded his head at Aefry. Osferth bowed a little.

“Come,” Sihtric said to him. “You have more to learn than swordsmanship.” And together they trudged towards the inn on the outskirts of town, Osferth hanging off his every word.

In the opposite direction, Finan and Aefry walked in comfortable silence. The sun had set fully and torches flickered at the welcoming gates of the keep. In a few moments, they would be sheltered in its warmth. Aefry’s stomach gave a rumble and she laughed.

“Thank you, Sir, for walking me back,” Finan smiled and Aefry continued. “Though, and I do not mean to offend, I suspect it was not for my safety.” Expecting to see annoyance in her eyes, Finan looked at her. To his pleasant surprise, he saw her eyes twinkle in the low light. A broad smile stretched across his bonny face. “I do believe Saeflaed will have returned from her father’s by now.”

“I would not have let you walk back alone, lady-”

“Aefry.” She corrected, holding a hand to her chest. He copied the movement.

“Finan.” Aefry nodded and Finan continued. “But a glimpse of her would not go amiss.”

Aefry’s smile widened. Finan had thought her a meek little thing at first, smaller than her companions, not so pretty as Saeflaed or outspoken as Adburh. But he saw now that he was wrong. Behind the round cheeks and rosy complexion, pleasing manner and quiet reserve, a brightness burned within her. Quick to help and to laugh just as he. The youngest of Aethelflaed’s ladies, he thought perhaps, despite Saeflaed’s beauty, that Aefry was his favourite.

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Aefry said, her voice full of that longing awe one heard in a girl recalling a princess, or a little boy dreaming of the battlefield.

“I’ve never seen a fairer lass,”

“And here she is,” she indicated the keep gates, where a golden haired girl stood waiting. Aefry turned to Finan, a knowing glint in her eye. “Almost as if this meeting were planned.”

“Not a word to your mistress of Uhtred,” Finan held her arm gently.

Aefry held a finger to her lips as she slipped away, and Finan watched as she clasped Saeflaed’s hand before disappearing through the gate.

Over the next few days, the three men and three women followed their leaders like a gaggle of children.

Having told Aefry how much she liked the man, Saeflaed either clung to her arm or Finan’s, whispering hurried observations in the former’s ear, flirtations in the latter’s.

“His wit is as sharp as his sword!”

“There’s something about his eyes,”

“I watched him train the monk,” Aefry’s ears pricked. “His arms, Aefry!”

Poor Adburh was quite taken as ever by the silent Sihtric, but the discovery of his wife had left her quite bereft.

“Many a man takes a mistress, Adburh,” Saeflaed had said.

“I’ll not be a man’s whore,” Adburh snapped from beneath her bedsheets.

“Not even a man so beautiful?”

Adburh sniffled and Aefry silenced her friend with a quick glance.

When next they saw Uhtred and his men, all walking the halls and corridors of the keep as he spoke to Aethelflaed in hushed tones, Aefry was forced to abandon her position by the monk to remind Adburh that she was at court. At once, the red-headed girl’s shoulders straightened, the crease of her forehead vanished and her steps became lighter.

“He is a handsome man, ‘tis true,” Aefry whispered to Adburh. “But not the man for you, my friend.” Adburh’s face soured at once and she made to protest. Aefry didn’t allow it. “Aside from his marital status, he is far too quiet and serious. Imagine the household you would run together! You, fearsome and outspoken. He, fearsome and silent. That poor man would not stand a chance.” Adburh laughed sadly and linked her arm through Aefry’s. Together, they processed behind the others.

Uhtred and Aethelflaed were a way ahead now. Uhtred too, seemed equally bewitched by Aethelflaed as Adburh was with Sihtric, and Aefry was glad to see a man bestow her mistress some compassion. The image of a gentleman in her presence, Uhtred listened to Aethelflaed’s words as though she were bestowing upon him a prophecy. He walked half a step behind her at all times, and always, his gaze was directed toward her.

Finan and Saeflaed, still holding his arm, were a few paces behind them with Sihtric. Aefry giggled as Saeflaed’s golden curls bounced animatedly as she spoke to him, and Finan looked over his shoulder at the noise and winked.

Osferth saw him do so and glanced to where Aefry and Adburh walked. The moment he looked at her, Aefry’s steps faltered.

“Are you alright?” It was Adburh who sounded concerned now.

“Yes. Yes, fine,” Aefry resumed her steps and looked to Osferth. He had turned back to face the front. Let him look round again, please. The strange sensation that had made its home in Aefry’s chest ever since she met the monk stirred, and she gulped a few times to steady her breath.

“Are you sure?”

“Adburh,” Aefry lay a hand atop her friends. “Believe me when I say, I am fine.” Adburh eyed her suspiciously but they continued ahead.

Osferth walked alone between the groups, hands clasped behind his back. As people passed them in the corridors, going about their business, Aefry found a new appreciation for his height. She had seen few men so tall. He was taller than Finan, that was certain. Now, she saw he was taller than Uhtred and much the same height as Sihtric. She thought of the three warriors and their broad backs, and her mind wandered to what lay beneath Osferth’s robes. Whether he would become as muscled as them as he continued his training-

I’m sorry. Let him look at me, and I’ll spend Sunnandaeg in the chapel.

Aefry did not know precisely what it was that she longed to see, but when Osferth turned to look at her again, his mellow eyes brightening when he saw her already watching him, she felt a small part of her desire to be seen by him sated.

“Aefry, your cheeks are flushed. Are you certain-”

“Adburh!” Aefry dropped her friend’s arm in annoyance and took a few rushed steps forward before realising where she was; a step or so behind Osferth. When Adburh stomped past them, her temper flaring, Osferth startled and gazed back. Upon seeing Aefry so close, he startled again but smiled all the same.

“Her fires are burning rather hot today,” Aefry mumbled, giving Osferth a small curtsy.

“Is everything well?” said Osferth as he watched Adburh storm ahead.

“She had some bad news,” Aefry wouldn’t betray Adburh’s feelings, no matter her annoyance.

Osferth hummed and waited for Aefry to fall into step beside him. Unlike that which she had shared with Finan, Aefry could not say their silence was comfortable. On the contrary, both seemed strained to think of something to say and altogether uneasy.

“The yarrow worked-”

“How is your practice-”

Both spoke together, blushed and allowed the quiet to resume. After a moment, Aefry took Osferth’s hand. Perhaps it was an excuse just to touch him, but she brought his knuckles to the light of a passing window and examined his bruises. The yarrow had worked indeed, for she could make out the bone and blue veins of his hands. His hands. How small hers suddenly felt underneath his. When she looked up at him, she saw he was still staring down at their entwined hands.

“Do you need anything more of me?” she whispered.

Osferth’s eyes flickered to hers. “Lady, I-”

“Come on, Osferth!”

Finan’s voice boomed down the corridor and Aefry stepped quickly away from Osferth. Onward they walked.

“That is much like how he speaks to me when teaching,” Osferth said lowly and Aefry laughed. “But he is kind do it, and a good man.”

“That he is.”

Osferth watched her from the corner of his eye. She smiled as she looked in Finan’s direction and he tried to quell his jealousy. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” he whispered.

Ahead, Uhtred and Aethelflaed had stopped outside a large cabinet of rooms at the fore of the keep, and Aefry, distracted on their journey there, noticed at once that it was the study of the King. She quickened her steps, leaving Osferth’s side, to stand behind her mistress. It would not do for Lady Aelswith to see her at the side of one of Uhtred’s men and not her daughter.

No sooner had she, Saeflaed and Adburh settled behind Aethelflaed did the door to the cabinet open. Father Beocca stepped out and grasped Uhtred’s hand. A moment after, the King entered the corridor and all in his presence bowed their heads. Aethelflaed kissed his cheek.

“You are ready?” He said to his daughter and Uhtred, to which they nodded and entered his private chambers with Beocca. As Aefry bowed once more, she noticed the King’s intelligent eyes carry over Finan and Sihtric, before flicking to the man stood still in the corridor.

Subtly, so imperceptibly, Aefry saw Alfred falter. From her reverent position, she looked sideways through the veil of her hair.

Osferth was looking pointedly at the ground, his shoulders a little stooped, his head a little bowed.

When the King turned away, Osferth looked up and saw that Aefry was watching him again. With a sad smile and nod of his head, he retraced his steps, away from his fellows, and out of sight. A haunting sadness had returned to his eyes, and Aefry thought of little else all evening.

Early one morning under the guise of prayer, Aethelflaed brought her ladies-in-waiting to the town chapel so she may share some secret with Uhtred before he and his men left for the north.

Finan and Sihtric were stood at the door, happily talking when they arrived. They bowed to Aethelflaed as she passed, sharing a knowing look, and greeted the ladies. Saeflaed placed herself by Finan and leant gaily against the stone wall so that her hip jutted just so. Adburh, too, stood scandalously close to Sihtric. He said nothing. Aefry did not worry about Osferth’s own whereabouts, for she knew he would be inside.

Sure enough, when she pushed open the chapel’s great doors, daylight streaked into the chamber and set him aglow. Sat on a simple wooden bench at the back of the chapel, his head was bent in prayer. Like a moth to a flame, she drifted towards him, sitting carefully beside him as he prayed.

The creaking of the wood gave her away, and Osferth opened one eye. When he saw her sat beside him, he smiled and relaxed in his seat. Together, the monk and the young lady sat in contended silence at the back of the chapel. After a while he looked at her fully and saw the happiness on her face.

“What has you smiling, my Lady?” Osferth whispered in her ear as they sat side by side. Aefry looked up at him. His hands were clasped in his lap, his head bowed slightly to hear her answer. Wherever he went, he always looked in prayer, and she wondered if it was the same on the battlefield. If he fought with as much grace as he did everything else.

“Those two,” she indicated Uhtred and Aethelflaed with her eyes. “It is good to see her smile again.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched her face glow with tenderness. It seemed her permanent state. On occasion, he had seen her about the keep with Aethelflaed and her other companions. Where Adburh and Saeflaed seemed suited to keeping the princess jovial, the lady beside him must have been picked as a companion for her quiet sincerity. When Aethelflaed fell into clouds of despair, it was Aefry she went to to lift her spirits.

When Osferth stumbled upon Aefry in the town, or sat in the meadow beyond the keep, she moved with serenity, like river buttercup in a stream. It struck him that she was prayer incarnate; contemplative, curious, calm.

When tending to the horses, he watched her in the meadow. She gathered flowers, read beneath the oak tree, or when not alone, talked spiritedly with her companions. Just as fascinated as she was with the monk, he too was with the lady-in-waiting.

“Though she doesn’t show it, not to Lord Uhtred, she is sad.” The monk titled his head towards her as she spoke. “You are away tomorrow, are you not?”

He nodded, eyes scanning hers. Would she be sad when he left? As Aethelflaed was for Uhtred?

“Take care, Just Osferth,” she smiled. His mouth twitched at the corners, and she knew he wanted to smile. “What?”

“My lady, do you think perhaps you could simply call me Osferth? The others have given me their own name, I should like to hear mine just plainly.”

The lady’s eyes lit with mirth. “What do the others call you?”

He sighed and looked at the cross atop the alter, as if pleading for help. “‘Baby monk.’” He whispered it in her ear like he was at confession, and she would have shuddered were it not for the ridiculousness of the name. She sniggered and the monk pinched his nose.

“Are you a monk anymore?” She had turned to him slightly, though she still glanced at her mistress every now and again. “Now that you are in Uhtred’s company?”

He thought a moment and watched his hands. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

She took his hand in hers and faced him directly.

“You are Osferth.”

“That I am.” There it was again. Pride. Looking at her pretty face, open with kindness and judging of nothing as she watched him, Osferth felt that whatever he had been, or would be, was fine because she saw him. She.

“What do you think life would have held for you? Had you the choice?” Aefry knew the question was intimate, and should he rebuke her, she would understand. To her happiness, he did not.

“I do not think it matters, lady.” Visions of himself as a prince, or an ealdorman with wife and child flashed before his eyes. “My lot was chosen long before I was born.” Aefry knew he was thinking of his father’s actions but said nothing, only let him continue. “With another mother, another father, in a different realm perhaps my life would have been different, but it does not do to dwell. I am thankful for what I have been given.”

He watched her side, for she had turned to face Uhtred and Aethelflaed solemnly. Her lips parted delicately, plainly thinking over what he had said. A few strands of hair had fallen loose from the braid knotted at her nape, revealing the pulse point on the elegant column of her neck. Osferth was struck with the desire to run his finger along it and the britches beneath his tunic tightened. He shifted on the hard pew. Damn. Faintly, as though listening through water, he heard her say something similar to “we should leave them be.” He looked up to see Uhtred and Aethelflaed departing through the door behind the chancel.

“Will you pray with me?”

Her hand was still in his and she squeezed it before clasping her own in prayer. “Of course.”

Aefry knelt before him and he swallowed, shifting his hands beneath his tunic before kneeling beside her. Osferth wasn’t sure how long they prayed. Or rather, how long she prayed and he tried to. Her devoted mutterings and deeps sighs of breath were beautifully distracting, so he settled on watching her pray instead.

She leant her head on her hands, as though this would open a direct channel to help her commune with the divine. She glanced up on occasion, to gaze at the altar, before casting her eyes down. When she hastily wiped a tear from her cheek between devotions, he found he could take it no more and moved towards the offertory shrine next to the tabernacle. He hadn’t seen someone so moved by prayer since the monastery, and even then he believed the abbot did it to scare the oblates into servitude.

He took a candle and, placing it next to its fellows, lit it with a taper. Closing his eyes with the flame in hand, a moment’s solace finally found him, and he prayed for that which he always could. When he opened them, she was there beside him, placing her own candle upon the shrine having silently finished her prayers. As if in slow motion, he watched as she covered his hand with hers and moved the taper he still held to the wick. The candle flickered into life, and she let go.

“Who did you light your candle for?” she whispered, watching the flames dance together.

“My mother.”

“I lit mine for you. I want to see you safely back in Wintancaester.” Sadness befell Aefry’s eyes and Osferth said the only thing he could think that would ease her unhappiness.

“I shall try, my lady.”

She nodded. “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”

His lips parted with barely supressed awe. “Psalm ninety-one.”

Aefry nodded again. “The psalms are my favourites.”

“My lips praise you, because your faithful love is better than life itself.” Osferth whispered, his eyes intent on hers.

“Psalm sixty-three.”

“Yes,” Each time he was near her, his voice floundered. It seemed it was not just he who struggled. The light of the chapel cast Osferth in a soft glow and his eyes, pierced by the sun, looked aflame. Aefry watched as his tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip and, mindful of their place in God’s house, pressed the back of her hand to his so as to feel close to him.

“I must away, my lady.” His words were abrupt, their sudden intimacy overwhelming.

“Yes, you must,”

Osferth swallowed, and with some urgency said, “But I will see you soon.” Her beautiful face became doleful as she looked at the bidding candles and he stepped closer to her. Her eyes, brimming with tears, took in his face and as he made to brush them away, she stood on her toes to place a chaste kiss against his cheek.

Frozen before the shrine, Osferth listened as her steps carried her from the chapel, away from Adburh and Saeflaed, from Finan and Sihtric, and from him.

In the meadow beyond the town, beneath the oak tree, Aefry let her tears fall.

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night,” she said aloud to the grasses and the birds. Please, she begged, please let him come back.

Notes: Matins, prime, compline and vigil are part of the liturgical hours in the catholic faith, and are prayers that are said throughout the day. Typically for a monk, there would be matines, prime, lauds, none, sext, vespers and compline. Vigil came before holy days and some even took nocturnes which is around 1am. I used to live with a monk (true!) and sometimes I would do lauds with him. Fifteen minutes of quiet is a lovely way to start the day!

Tags: @arcielee @babyblue711 @elizarbell @chilling-in-my-head @skikikikiikhhjuuh @fan-goddess @sylas-the-grim @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @targaryenrealnessdarling @doomwhathouwilt @gemini-mama @myfandomprompts @bcon24 @humanpurposes @wise-owl @bookwyrmsblog @yentroucnagol @allthefandomtherapy @hightowhxre @elizarbell

#ewan mitchell #osferth #osferth x oc #osferth x reader #the last kingdom #tlk #aethelflaed #uhtred #finan #sihtric #alfred the great #we have this hope #ewan mitchell x reader

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abbysdruidess · 1 year ago

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ how abby proposes to you-modern au ♥

wc: 1k

warnings: modern au, marriage proposal, allusions to sex, general fluffy fluff, abby is a lil softie

❦ ok so how did it happen? I imagine you two had been together for a looong time, staying together throughout college and whatnot<3 and let me just say, abby adores you. You're her ray of sunshine, what keeps her up and going most days, she'd travel to hell and back just for you, only for you. Your love is impossible to comprehend, since it is not of physical substance, but you're surrounded by it every day.

❦ it's no wonder then that she wants to marry you sooo badly🥺the lil softie waited until you two settled down a bit, found steady jobs and got your dreamhouse all set up. And so, she stumbles randomly one day on an ad for wedding rings and she's like fuck- because she always daydreamed about the big day, but she never considered it for real since both of you were in college

❦ but now it could not exist merely as a fantasy. And so, she goes on the hunt for a ring that is so very distinctly you-she probably gets your birthstone on it, and engraves your initials on the inside. bby is corny like that<3

❦ of course, she is not used to grand, poetic gestures of love, but she would be damned if she didn't try for you. She wanted to make the proposal an event to remember, so she takes you to a place that means a lot to the both of you-she decided on a small secluded beach that you guys had a lot of date nights together(and lots of fun nights in general ifkyim;))

❦ she packs a picnic basket full of some rosé champagne, a couple of bruschette and a strawberry trifle (your fave<3). She decides to do it in the anniversary of when you guys met, so a special lil event wont seem so meticulously planned

❦ so she drives you both to the beach, as she admires you from the passenger's seat-dressed to the nines, wearing a small dress that accentuates your curves while look at her beaming, eyes gleaming with adoration as you cup her hand over the gear shift<3

❦ once you arrive, you both set off for the little patch of shore, secluded from the world due to the large bushes and uncut grass that separates it from the rest of the world

❦ she sets down a white blanket and motions you to sit with her. You two sit back as you recount previous events from your relationship, gazing at the sunset and enjoying the food.

❦ "you remember that one time when we got drunk at the karaoke bar and did Time of My Life from Dirty Dancing?" "Oh my God, Abby-"

❦ eventually, the sun starts to settle for good, and abby gives you that little smile that goes :] while subconsciously feeling the little box up her cargo's pocket.

❦ to give credit where it is due, she did actually prepare a small speech in the days coming up to today, but once she is there, with you, the pink sky casting a gentle glow over you all of it goes out the fucking window. So it ends up coming off a liiittle unprepared.

❦ "Sweetheart, you know how much you mean to me right? You... you make me want to become a better person everyday. And... I know we're still a little young, but... I know I wanna be with you always."

❦ she starts fumbling for you hand, and you feel her sweaty, clammy palm reaching out while the other hand reaches in her pocket

❦ of course, you know where this is going, and you let out an involuntary squeal. Without her having made the actual proposal, you jump in her lap and start peppering her face with soft, soft smooches, while mumbling yes, yes abby I would love to more than anything.

❦ the box ends up falling next to her on the blanket, while she lies on it dragging you down with her. You end up shedding all of your clothes for some late afternoon delight with you now fiancé-and soon to be wife:))- in the spot you've been so many times with her, a deep celebration and confirmation of your love settling in

❦ afterwards, once you two lie down together snuggling, she slides the ring in your pointer finger while giving it a little kiss, as if sealing it in.

❦ the next day she calls her dad to announce that you said yes!!and of course he is over the moon for her, deeply content that his daughter found a person she wants to devote herself to and who loves her with her whole heart<3

❦ of course, you two have a load of preparations to make-you have to book the venue, decide on the guests, what to wear, the food and soo many other things that will be settled eventually-you know that with Abby on your side, these things will go over easily and you will both adore your final choices❤

#abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #the last of us 2 #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you

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astarionsilverbough · 1 year ago

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astarion catches halsin whittling a bust of his head out of a palm-sized block of birchwood :} he doesn't recognize it :}

yo hey whoa WHOA

okay yeah let’s go

It happens about three days after they leave the Grove for the Creche.

They’re camping on the Risen Road near the river. Astarion and Gale disappear for their usual bath together - they stay in the pairs they’ve previously selected mostly out of ease, though Karlach joins Lae’zel and Halsin’s group - and Halsin, having already bathed, produces a block of wood from his pack.

It fits neatly in the frame of his hand. Three-fourths of the block have been carefully carved and coaxed away by the gentle sweeps of Halsin’s knife. He works in silence for a few minutes, losing himself so utterly in his task he hardly notices he’s not alone until Wyll is speaking.

“Good gods man,” the fighter says, peering over Halsin’s shoulder at the small piece, “you’ve captured Astarion perfectly. Karlach, look at this.”

“Oh, whoa! Halsin, that’s amazin’,”Karlach says wonderingly as she peers over Wyll’s shoulder while he peers over Halsin’s shoulder. “You’ve even captured his little, little smile lines! Oh!”

“What’s all this, then, why are we cooing over the druid?”

As it always does, Astarion's voice makes Halsin's heavy heart feel about two hundred times lighter and younger. Wyll and Karlach both step back and Halsin looks up at Astarion nears, his damp hair falling over his curiously furrowed brow.

"Oh," the vampire hums, sounding a bit... befuddled. Almost... apprehensive? "Well who's this... handsome young thing, then?"

He's being entirely genuine. He doesn't recognize himself - but Wyll and Karlach, who barely know the man, did. It does look like him, then. Halsin knows it does - he's carved Astarion's face a thousand times over the last two hundred years, after all. He could carve it in the dark.

Karlach rolls her eyes. "Oh, come off it," she says with a laugh, gently smacking the back of Astarion's shoulder. "You don't have to play coy. You're bloody gorgeous, Astarion."

Astarion's eyebrows shoot up as it occurs to Halsin that vampires... Vampires can't see their reflection. Not even in water. His chest grows almost immeasurably tight. It must show on his face, because Wyll clears his throat then and says, "we ought to get the fire going, aye? It's getting chilly out here for those of us not running on infernal engines!"

"Wh -?" Karlach manages, but then Wyll is all but frog-marching her away and Halsin's world shrinks down to Astarion and only Astarion.

A relief.

If he could keep the world this small, he would.

"Is this... Is this really me, darling?"

Astarion sounds... His voice is more vulnerable than Halsin's heard it yet. Oh, but there were no words in any language to describe what was happening within the great former archdruid as he takes in Astarion's expression; it's one of an almost awestruck grief, of curious hope and something approaching the innocence he once embodied when he was younger and unafraid.

"Yes," Halsin utters on a breath. "Yes, little star, it is."

The vampire's eyes are swelling with tears. His bottom lip quivers even as his mouth curves into a soft, wondering smile.

"Me... now?"

"That is the only you I see," Halsin says quietly. "The Astarion you have always been and will always be."

"Oh," Astarion whimpers. When Halsin offers up the carving for Astarion to hold, to memorize with fingertips and thumbs, Astarion falters for a moment before he takes it so carefully Halsin almost shatters then and there.

"Huh," the vampire breathes, gazing down at his own carefully crafted visage with tears streaming down the real article, "well. I... I look more like him, don't I? Like father."

"You look like Astraea when you smile," Halsin murmurs, clambering to his feet. He sweeps a curled finger under Astarion's chin to catch the tears beading there and thumbs over the taper of it.

"And you have her eyes," the druid says. Astarion lifts those sunset eyes to meet his and before he can protest, Halsin bows to kiss the argument off his tongue. Astarion grips the carving in one hand and slides his arms around Halsin's neck; the bigger elf catches him in the crook of his elbow and draws him close, as close as he possibly can.

It's never close enough.

"But when I look at you," Halsin says in elvish, taking a step back towards his tent, "I see Astarion. I see the way your hair curls around your ears and the way your eyes wrinkle when you laugh. The way your lips part right before you're about to be kissed."

Astarion's ears go pink. "Oh - stop," he protests weakly against Halsin's lips, squirming as Halsin lifts him effortlessly from the ground. "Enough poetry, just tell me I'm beautiful so we can move onto the exciting part."

Stepping back through the flaps of his own tent, Halsin catches Astarion in another gasping kiss and turns on his heel. Astarion doesn't flail or cry out when Halsin moves to get him down on the cot; he trusts Halsin with the same ease he always has, fingers carding nimbly through the druid's hair as he kisses over Halsin's jaw and noses at his ear.

"Beautiful," Halsin says, leaning up on his palms to look down at the vampire. Soft dusk light filters through the canvas of Halsin's tent, lighting Astarion up in shades of burnished gold. The breath punches gently out of Halsin and he shakes his head. Catching Astarion gently by the jaw, the druid bows and kisses him in the way that makes the blood run hot enough to tempt the change.

"I would invent a new word for you if I only knew how," Halsin says against Astarion's lips. "You are solar storms and hurricanes, Astarion Ancunin - you are the sea beneath a fractured sky and the first winter freeze."

Astarion trembles. "I distinctly remember telling you no more poetry" he manages, "only moments ago, even. You can't have forgotten already. I hope you haven't, or we have bigger problems than - mmhmm..."

He licks the words off Astarion's tongue. The vampire melts beneath him, tears dripping down his temples and into the snowfall of his hair.

"Astarion," Halsin breathes achingly. "Astarion."

"There it is," Astarion whispers, "your new word. Every time you say my name - every time you say my name, I know how beautiful you think I am."

A pause.

"But the carving certainly helps. Feel free to make more. Of any part of me, in fact."

Halsin grins against Astarion's teeth and gathers him close, finally skin to skin.

It's almost close enough.

"Oh, I will," the druid burrs as Astarion scrapes a heavy, needy gaze over his face, lips parted against Halsin's like he's a snake poised to swallow a mouse. Halsin slides a hand between his thighs and the elf whines.

"Good," Astarion groans.

And he does. Only once he's done some thorough research, of course.

Astarion insists.

#baldur's gate 3 #the land of gods and monsters verse #halstarion #astarion #halsin #rambles #this ask killed me thanks so much

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whereireid · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: jake sully x fem!reader | masterlist

Summary: Jake Sully has never been taken care of before. You decide to change that. based on this request.

— warnings: fluff // nsfw content; handjobs, unedited. 😬

Jake Sully doesn’t think that anyone has ever asked to take care of him before.

It’s a strange request for you to make — one that has his ears flickering in confusion and his tail swatting behind him, but he simply nods his head, adjusting his legs so you can easily slide in between them.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the striped skin of his inner thigh. You leave goosebumps in your wake, your movements slow and sultry, and Jake gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, 'ts okay.”

As though to add to his point, he gives you a slow, earnest nod. His lips quirk upward slightly as he speaks, and his voice is deep, rumbling in his chest. The low octaves send a familiar warmth pooling to your stomach. His legs are so wide and muscular, flexing under each touch, and you’re subtly reminded that the only reason you are able to take care of him is because he’s letting you.

He's leant against a tall oak tree in the middle of the forest, and you’re nestled between his thighs. It’s a promiscuous place to be, but it’s where he wanted to go.

Jake had returned to your shared mauri from a successful hunting mission, and stated that he needed to get away — needed to “clear his head”. You had meekly followed him, tottering after him and pleading for him to slow. He had done so; his strides becoming leisurely and steady, allowing for you to keep up with him. His tail had wrapped possessively in its familiar place around your wrist as the two of you walked together, your shoulder brushing against his hip every few seconds, causing you to fluster.

He's so big, and you’re reminded of this as you grow closer and closer to his loincloth.

“Can I touch you, sweetheart?” Jake’s drawls softly from above you, his fingers instinctively reaching out and brushing a few strands of loose hair away from your face.

“You can do what you want, Jake. I just want to take care of you.”

You gaze up at him, and it feels like the breath is knocked from your lungs. Jake is ethereal, the small rays of sun breaking through the trees catching his lashes, reflecting the light onto his eyes through his half-lids. You meet the polished stained glass of his eyes, orange and yellows hues staring down at you like an Earthly sunset.

Gaze dragging down, your met with his strong chest. Stripes of steel blue cascade across his chest like rippling water, and your lips part as you note the soft, round curve of his stomach. He’s not as young as he used to be, but age has been exceptionally kind. Your eyes flit across the scar which patterns across his chest, and you pout, your hand reaching upwards to swipe across the jagged line.

He blinks as you stare at him, his lips twitching upwards into a small smile. “It’s only a scar,” he reminds you, a hand coming down to wrap around his wrist. “I’m okay.”

The pad of your thumb presses meekly into the indentation. “I hate that man.”

“Well, we don’t need to worry about him anymore,” Jake murmurs, “it’s just us.”

Warmth floods to your face, and you meekly force your attention back towards his loincloth. You gently begin to hoister his loincloth higher, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as excitement pricks at your core. He allows for it to be tugged upwards, and your skin prickles with goosebumps as the slight curve of the forbidden fruit that you crave terribly begins to grow exposed.

“So pretty, Jake,” you mumble, your fingers shaking as they untie his loincloth at the side. Your fingers explore the exposed skin of his hips as the loincloth falls to the floor, your lips peppering against his inner thighs, ignoring the area that he desperately craves to be touched the most.

Your nails drag softly against his hips, following the patterns of his blue stripes, and he sighs sweetly as your lips brush against his crotch ever so slightly. Your eyes flick towards his cock, which is hard and pulsing besides you, perking with excitement and need as your tongue gently laps at the crook of his thigh.

“So are you,” he responds quietly, gently tilting your chin so that he can look at you. His irises are sheathed by the dilation of his lust, and you shyly smile at his enthusiasm. “You’re my pretty girl, sweetheart.”

As if to prove his point, you bat your lashes up at him. You dip your head so your lips scrape against his thigh again, and your breath is warm, faintly fanning across his skin. His thighs flex under you, and your kisses grow hot and wet as you softly suckle at his skin, satisfied when the blue of his skin begins to grow purple.

Finally, your hand moves towards his area of desire. Your palm wraps a fist around his cock, your thumb swiping softly over his leaking, lavender head. A quiet hiss slips past Jake’s lips, and from the peripheral of your vision, you can see him tilt his heads backwards.

He shifts his hips, bucking lazily into your hand. “No, Jake,” you respond, and he looks down at you, confusion evident in his features. “Let me do all of the work.”

Jake nods his head timidly, readjusting his hips to grow comfortable. His eyes fight to stay open, but between the rays of sun which shine directly at his pupils and the sultry look on your face, he’s forced to shut his eyes and focus on the painful aching of his cock.

Desire blooms in his stomach as your hand teasingly begins to tug at his cock, your palm soft and wet, and he wonders when you spat on it, and then he realises that you didn’t and you’re simply using his pre-cum as lube.

Your other hand, in all of its glory, softly draws shapes into his skin, your nails sharp enough to warrant fear. He knows you’d never hurt him, and his lips part in joy as your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, a soft moan dragging from his throat. His cock is so thick that it’s hard to manage, but he seems like he’s enjoying himself.

His stomach tenses as you continue to roll your fist up and down his cock, and it aches — he aches, desperate to thrust into your hand, but he’s more scared of the lack of an orgasm than he is the consensus of a drawn-out one.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, and his thighs jolt as your teeth sink softly into the plump flesh of his thigh. “Please?”

“You’ll get what you want. I promise.”

An insatiable feeling of warmth drowns him, and he imagines his face is flushed terribly. Another quiet moan is drawn from his throat as you pump his cock tantalizingly slow, his body sparking with the need for more.

“Faster,” he begs, “please, pretty girl, I need more.”

Hungry for relief, yet gnawing for more bliss, Jake lets out a quiet cry, his eyes opening to gaze down at you. He’s glad that he did, and pleasure bubbles in his stomach as he takes in your amused expression, your lips quirked upwards as you continue to pump his cock.

Jake’s head tips backwards again, resting against the tree, and you rub your thumb over the slit of his cock as you press wet, heated kisses to his other thigh, your teeth scraping down his skin. Your canines aren’t sharp enough to draw blood, but you try — nipping and biting to create a stark contrast of both pleasure and pain.

Gently, you readjust yourself, pausing your movements. You lean over his crotch, and Jake gasps quietly as you let yourself drool over your hand and his cock, your salvia covering your fingers and his tip. You messily jerk him again, and he lets out a choked groan, and you wonder how you got so lucky to have such a verbal partner.

His praise and sounds of pleasure causes arousal to pool in your own stomach, but you ignore it, opting to focus all on him. His cock dribbles with more precum, and his stomach and thighs tense as you carefully begin to speed up the motions of your hands.

“Do you like this?”

Jake nods his head. His throat feels tight and so does his stomach, all tense and rippling with pleasure. “Yes,” he chokes out, his fingers curling into the soil beneath him, “I like it.”

“I knew that you would,” you murmur softly, the pad of your thumb rolling over his thumb, a small smile painting your lips as his precum dribbles down his cock, following the slight curve of the impressive muscle.

Your nails rake over his thighs, and Jake shivers, tensing and writhing beneath you. He’s aching, impossibly hard, and his eyes crush shut as he begins to tremble beneath you. You smile as he gives into his vulnerability, as he allows for you to take care of him, and you watch his fingers curl deeper into the soil, and you allow him to finally thrust into your hand.

“Oh, yes, that’s it,” he grits his teeth as he praises you, and his stomach burns with heat, his ears pinned backwards as the sloppy sounds of his lust echo throughout the forest. “My pretty girl, taking care of me so good.”

Jake’s voice has sunken to a whimper now, and you feel your cunt pulsing between your legs. You’re growing sticky and needy yourself, and as you rub him, you also rub your thighs together, attempting to find a source of friction to dull your own insatiable desire.

“Faster?” you ask him, and he nods his head vigorously.

Your grip tightens on his cock, and you begin to jerk him faster, and he lets out a throaty, content moan. He nods his head, praising and begging, pleading for more, and you let him rut into your fist. He feels so hot, and his stomach is so tense and his thighs flex beneath your nails and you can’t help but sigh softly.

He’s so desperate.

Pleasure buzzes in the atmosphere, and you sense that he’s getting close, and you can feel him getting closer. His cock is leaking over your hand, and you move to wrap your other fist around it, attempting to give him as much pleasure as possible.

Your wrist aches, burns as you continue to help him, and you can’t help but praise him further, “so pretty, Jake, you know that?” you murmur, but he can’t hear you, his heartbeat so loud as it rattles throughout every fibre of his being.

It’s heavenly torture, and he begins to pull soil from Pandora as he ruts into your hand further, and your grip on his cock tightens, the motions sloppy and lewd as his hips desperately snap upwards. “Yes, like that. Sweetheart, please!” He begs, and then he can’t hold it in anymore, the inferno blazing inside of him overwhelming, too much all at once.

“Take care of me so — so good,” he cries out, screwing his eyes shut as he dulls the fire inside of him, the fast pace he’s set allowing for him to finally find relief. The lewd squelching sounds echo throughout the forest, and you attempt to tighten your grip as much as possible, and then it happens.

He cums, and he cums hard. Jake’s body shakes beneath you, trembles as your hot breath fans against his cock, your tongue flat against his tip as you swipe away all of the cum that you’ve coaxed out of him. His head is tilted, rested against the tree, and his chest rises and falls quickly, gentle whimpers catching in his throat as you continue to stroke him through his orgasm.

The soft flexing of his thighs is delicious, and you watch as his stomach ripples, the muscles sheen with a mixture of sweat and cum. His head is pounding, and his tail flickers madly behind him. Exhaustion rolls over him as you pull away, the soft glistenining of cum and saliva staining your bottom lip, and he closes his eyes again, unable to look at you.

“Was that good?” You ask quietly, gently sheathing him with his loincloth, a dreamy smile on your lips.

“Good?” He repeats, and warmth flutters throughout his body as he feels you clamber atop of him, your arms wrapping around his body as you press into his chest. He instinctively reaches a hand around you, pulling you close, your small frame hugged tightly to his own. “That was perfect.”

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mynameis-noe-body · 1 year ago

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Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

OR — you and Hopper have fun in the parking lot, in his car.

The mayor of Hawkins wasn't a particularly politically gifted man, easily bribed and evidently fishy in his manners, devoid of any charm. However, he had always thrown the best Fourth of July parties. This year, as always, Hawkins park has been transformed into a huge, glittering Luna Park. It's just sunset, and everything is illuminated with colored neon, written in large letters attracting people like moths to a flame. Children run amused among the rides, greedy for cotton candy and soft candies, lollipops and sugar-coated pancakes. Families jump from one attraction to another holding hands with the little ones, whose eyes sparkle like so many little stars, inebriated by the festivities. Music plays everywhere, incessant and covered only by the sound of laughter. It's a warm summer evening. The clear sky, of a warm blue that gets darker as the minutes go by, is the backdrop for a blanket of stars that finally seem to show themselves. And everyone is waiting for the fireworks.

Yet, none of this catches your eye. The usual amusements, the usual rides, the usual sweets. You even wore the same shorts as last year, the jeans just a little tighter around your hips, a little shorter along the soft curve of your buttocks. You are slightly sweaty, a wet line permeates your white shirt leaving a transparent veil between your breasts. A breath of fresh wind ruffles your hair, giving you relief. And your eyes, dreamy and greedy, rest on only one person. Jim Hopper, Chief of Police. He's not on duty tonight. Jane Hopper, his young adopted daughter, has already ridden off on the ferris wheel with her boyfriend, and he seems almost annoyed; he's been chatting with your father for a few minutes now, with an ice-cold beer in his hands. He looks bored, hot. That Hawaiian shirt would look ridiculous on anyone else, but he fills it completely. His thick arms, full and shot through with soft muscles, are absolutely delightful. You can't take your eyes off the way his chest looks so large and huge and tight under that garment. Almost as hot and delicious as his ass - god, a forty-year-old man has no right to be that damn sexy. Irresistible.

If you weren't (almost) sure that Jim could never be attracted to someone as seemingly young and green as you, you'd say that his eyes have turned to look at you more than once ... and yet, it seems so. His gaze is so heavy on you, you feel it glide over every curve of your body, you almost feel him touching your sweaty clothes on top of you – you wish they were his hands. You smile, wave your hand to say hello. Your father smiles, but you don't look at him. Jim doesn't take his eyes off you, even when you take your blue lollipop - just bought from the stall - and suck it hard into your mouth, between your cheeks. You lick it until it leaves a blue streak on the soft flesh of your tongue, around the edge of your rosy lips. You just wait for your dad to walk away - your mom must still be somewhere near the photobooth - and then, finally, you walk towards him.

He wants to spank you. It's a sick, dirty, damned irrepressible impulse. You, with your languid eyes, and that mouth that must be the softest and sweetest he could ever taste, drive him crazy ever since he realized that inside your tight jeans, inside your tight and low-cut T-shirts, inside your full clothes, you've grown into a young, gorgeous woman. He would like to wrap his fingers around your neck, squeeze it until he takes your breath away and hear you beg. Beg for what - this is not important. But when you get close, he's wearing his best smile. Safe, protective - all that he, in that moment, is not. No, you're a lost little sheep, and he's a hungry wolf who can't wait to sink his teeth into your flesh.

"Hello, Chief" you chirp, and smile. Your lips are smeared with blue sugar. It must be delicious.

Jim smiles. "Hey, kid. You okay?"

You huff with an amused laugh. "Kid? I haven't been a kid in a while, Hop. What do I have to do to show you that?"

Adorable. Your games are adorable. "Um, I don't know." Jim takes the lollipop stick, his rough thumb lingering a moment longer on the outline of your lip. The soft blush on your cheeks blossoms on your neck, runs down your chest and his greedy eyes can't help but wonder how far that sweet blush extends on your body. The treat slides out of your mouth, resting on your lips. "A woman, for example, wouldn't waste time with these sweets."

You smile, you fucking vixen. "Really?" you reply, impertinent. Snatching the lollipop from his hand, you suck it once more between your clenched cheeks before handing it to him. There's still a glistening trace of saliva around it. "It's so good, it would be a shame to throw it away. Why don't you taste it?"

His nostrils flare, sniffing in the cool evening air in a desperate attempt to hold on to what little control he has left. And he smiles. Tense, forced-like his pants, increasingly tight and uncomfortable. But when he barely opens his mouth, and tries to take the lollipop from your hand, you push it away, hiding it back in your cheek. "If you want it, you gotta catch it!" and with a goofy laugh, you walk off, hopping towards the parking lots.

God, you will be the death of him.

It's not difficult to find you, leaning against his police van with only one hip, your tongue sinuously rolling around the little blue sugar left, that sweet and colorful stain in your mouth that he doesn't want to wait any longer to taste. You expect him to stop, an amused grin, an almost pedantic reproach, and instead Jim keeps walking towards you with large steps, determined and without hesitation. His eyes have never been so dark and deep, his lips are already anticipating yours and just a moment - he is on you, Hopper cages you between the metal car door and his warm and massive body, his left hand on your hip digs into the softness of your body so hard it almost leaves a mark and his left hand grips your neck - tight enough to take a quick breath away, before covering your lips with his.

The lollipop falls forgotten on the floor.

His tongue eagerly seeks yours, fills your mouth and feeds on your sweet taste. You are perfect - perfect. Your small stifled moans die in your throat as he devours your lips, sucks your tongue between his lips and bites lightly into your mouth just to make you feel how he could destroy you with a simple kiss, break your lip and suck it again.

"Didn't they ever tell you it's not safe to tease a man like me, hm?" he growls into your skin, you feel the roughness of his beard scratching your neck, his lips sucking red marks all over you, as if to write his name on your body. It's terrifying, to find yourself powerless in such intense hands, pressed against such a strong and warm body. It's exciting. Pressing your palm against your mouth, you try to stifle a gasp, somewhere between pleasure and pain when he pinches your nipples from over the top of your shirt. "Your dad knows what you like to do? Runnin' around the parking lot, begging like a desperate bitch, with your stupid, little games? You knew this would happen." His voice makes you tremble with pleasure, and anxiety. "Remember that, when you think about it. You wanted it - you want me, my hands, my tongue, my cock. Come on, feel it.” Jim takes your hand, abruptly, places it on his crotch and squeezes it inside his. Stifling a moan against your neck, he pushes and presses on you. And it's big and hard and thick like no other. You're almost scared, but you're dying to suck it and feel it emptied down your throat.

"Please" you cry, a little whispered prayer, and so desperate. "Please give it to me - please!"

"That's it, love" he grunts "you asked for this." And his hand rips the button of your shorts with an unheard-of force, you almost feel the fabric of the seam tear. Violently, Hopper undresses you. You are naked from the waist down, you are all wet, clammy with sweat and arousal. His fingers are calloused, rough, so thick, when his middle finger swirls around that swollen pearl, you can't help but dig your face into his chest and stifle a cry of pleasure. He smells of tobacco, beer, cheap cologne, sweat. He's so gross and masculine and delicious at the same time - you're confused and so wet for him, you can't think of anything else. Two fingers slide inside you, you're tight but so wet that Jim can only feel the softness of your body. "So fucking wet, baby. So tight - how is it, hm? Tell me you like it."

"God - yes - yes, Hopper, more!"

He laughs, the bastard. "Such a fucking, little slut. That's what you are, fucking desperate for some dick."

"Only yours" you cry "only you, chief."

He groans at the name. "Keep on with this shit and I won't get to fuck you. And you're dying for me to fuck this tight little cunt."

His fingers dig into your sweet juices, so wet you can feel the sound of his movement around your nectar, his fingers pressing hard against that perfect spot inside you, his thumb rough and flat on your clit until it rips a violent, sudden orgasm. Your legs are shaking, you dig your nails into his muscular arms, clinging to him to keep from passing out and you can't even think. You don't notice that he has opened the car door, and you fall backwards into the seats not knowing what to expect. Only when he enters, sitting next to you, fumbling with his belt and the zipper of his trousers, do you know what awaits you.

You smile, spitefully. "I've waited so long, chief. Give it to me, please. Want you so much."

"Yeah?" for the first time he almost seems to blush. Your words stroke his ego in a way he's forgotten; that such a delightful young beauty as you whould so desire him, it was flattering. And exciting. "Then be a good girl and take it all." Hopper pushed you against the seat and spun on top of you. One hand against the window, the other wrapped around your hips to lift your pelvis and push into you. “Oh, shit” he moans, burying his face in the corner of your neck. "Fucking tight."

You have to stuff your gasps against his shoulder, he's so big inside you, he stretches you - so wide open, it's almost painful, but he's perfect inside you. And when he starts to move, coming out slowly, enjoying your softness, and then pushing harder, ruthless and greedy inside you, you can no longer hold back that immense pleasure. "God, fuck yeah-again, again" you plead and he growls, vents and uses your body for his pleasure, like a flimsy toy in his hands, he slams you into the seat, without any kindness. The car sways, screeches, you feel nothing but his hot, ragged breath against your skin, his stiff legs using all their strength to press you against the seat and drive his hard cock between the abused lips of yours wet pussy. You feel him hit that spot, again, your legs gripping his wide hips, wide open to take him all the way into you, so deep—he's touching places you thought weren't there inside you. "Oh fuck, fuck Hopper, I'm going to - I'm gonna-"

"Come - fucking come for me!" he growls. With a desperate moan, one last thrust into you, he feels your pussy throbbing around his member, squeezing and milking it desperately, fully enjoying your orgasm, and it's so intense he can hardly contain himself anymore - as soon as you start again to breathe, Jim slips out and comes too. He empties on you, on your bare thighs, on your belly, splashes of hot cum dirty your skin and your ruined clothes as he masturbates all of his orgasm on you, with a last desperate breath.

"Shit" he whispers, finally. Dropping into the seat next to you, Hopper inhales deeply, and his gasps slowly extinguish, as he decides to grab a cigarette and roll down the car window. "Look at you" he comments, with an amused smile. "Looking like I just murdered you, love."

You smile, tired and fully satisfied. "No, not yet, Hop."

He looks at you, curious. Almost hesitant. But your eyes are so bright – no one should be looked at with such devotion after doing what he just did. Yet there is something so perversely satisfying about seeing his cum on your bare thighs. With a handkerchief, Hopper cleans you, slowly. A hand combs your hair, before stroking your cheek. "Go back to your rides, kid" he grins "I bet we'll see each other again soon."

You bite your lip, and he almost wants to kiss you again, watching you get dressed. "Only if you can catch me, chief." And with that cheeky smile of yours, you leave his car, already fantasizing about your next meeting.

Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know! And if you feel a little naughty and wanting for more, please know my requests are open 🖤

#jim hopper #hopper #chief jim hopper #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #stranger things #fourth of july

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nerdycafe · 1 year ago

Text

Inuyasha's Adoptive Mother, (Y/N)?

𝙼𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ➢ 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝚄𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ➢ 1 ◉ 𝟸

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐.

─────────ೋღ 🌺 ღೋ─────────

❝-*- 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 -*- *.☽ .* | Inuyasha x Half-Demon! Adoptive Mother Reader❞

❝-*-𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬-*- •°•⚠️•°• | None❞

❝-*-𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠-*- ஓ๑♡๑ஓ | Mature ❞

❝-*-𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦-*- ❀○❀ | Inuyasha ❞

❝-*-𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬-*- ʚ♡ɞ | Sango ♥︎ Miroku _ Inuyasha ♥︎ Kagome _ Inuyasha ♥︎ Kikyo _ Koga ♡ Kagome _ Kikyo ♡ Naraku❞

♥︎ Romantic

♡ One-sided

❝-*-𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬-*-•┈┈┈• Inuyasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango, Shippo, Kirara, Koga, Ginta, Hakkukau, Kikyo, Sesshomaru, Rin, Jaken, Naraku, Kagura, Kanna, Hakudoshi, Kohaku, Izayoi, Toga, Iyame❞

❝𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 -*- ✎﹏﹏﹏ 𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐲𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚'𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.❞

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ᎬΝᎫϴᎽ ͲᎻᎬ ՏͲϴᎡᎽ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

You were relaxing in your home, your feet tucked under your legs as you drank a warm cup of tea, you were deep in thought as you stared on into the distance from within your cozy hut. A fire was going on in the pit with a small cauldron hovering above it, it had about an inch of water within it, the water inside coming to a nice boil. You sighed as you swallowed some of your tea.

The sunset was ever so beautiful as you lost yourself in a trance. You blinked, breaking your trance and you looked over at the cauldron, seeing the water boiling nicely. You hummed, pleased to see the water rolling and bubbling.

You placed your tea down on the circular wooden saucer gently, you then turned to your left and you picked up the saibashi chopsticks, you adjusted them properly in your hand before you picked up an undone dumpling, you gently placed it in the hot water, you had about 4 of them, ready to boil. Once they were all in you placed the lid over the cauldron, allowing them to steam and boil.

Your ears twitched and you looked out into the distance once more, you stared intensely as you could hear a group of footsteps and voices. They all sounded rather young, and they sounded relaxed yet tired. You stood up, dusting off your clothes as you made yourself presentable, but in the middle of your fixing, your eyes wide and your ears perked up, a very familiar yet not forgotten voice sounded out from the crowd that was approaching your home.

You looked out into the distance, your eyes gleaming in hope as you waited for the figures to curve up from the hill. You waited with clenched hands over your fast heart, as the group walked up the hill, you could make out a large animal, and two figures walking next to it along with a small child-like figure.

Your eyes widen and they shined with unshed tears as you made out the familiar red clothing and silver hair. You ran out from the hut, your eyes trained on the young man as you ran towards the group. The small child noticed you approaching and he alerted the others.

They all looked at you with curious stares, and your arms opened wide once you got closer. “INUYASHA!!” You cried out in joy as you wrapped your arms around his chest, your arms went under his and your fingers latched onto his red suikan. Your face pressed into his chest and shoulder, and your tears stained his top, but he didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arms around you tightly in return.

You could feel how much he had grown, it felt almost like a dream how strong he felt, he was nothing but a young teen the last time you hugged him like this, he wanted to go out and venture off on his own, and you gave him a hug as a final goodbye, telling him that he can always come home for a hot meal and a warm and ready bed.

“Oh, Inuyasha, I missed you so much, there wasn’t a day that went by that I never thought about you. I’ve been so worried, but I know that you’re strong.” You said, your voice wavering as you tried not to sob. He held you tighter. “I know, but you ain’t got to worry…. I’m sorry…. I should’ve checked in on you.” He said, his voice was still the same, just with a bit more base and a natural growl to it. It almost made you want to cry, realizing how much of his life has gone by.

You shook your head, as you pulled back from him, your eyes shined full of motherly love as you stared up at him. “You’ve no need for an apology, you were trying to find your place in the world, so I understand why you left.” You said, your voice full of understanding. His yellow eyes bounced back and forth between yours, he may be grown, but he still held that same love and respect for you. It took you back to his younger days when he was just a child, his eyes haven’t changed. He was still your baby boy.

You blinked and you stared up at them with a baffling look, he blinked in confusion at your stare. “W-what?” He asked as he stared down at you. You stepped up on your tip-toes, your hands gently caressing his cheeks. He stared down at you with a dazed look, but he didn’t stop you. You suddenly pinched his cheeks and you pulled on them. “OW! OWW! STOP THAT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” He shouted in pain as he gently yet firmly grabbed your wrists as he tried to pry your hands off. You pulled his cheeks apart in different directions before you let them go and you gave both of his cheeks a good smack.

He stepped back some as he rubbed his cheek with one of his hands as he gave you a half-hearted glare. “What the heck was that for?” He asked, his voice held irritation. You gave a pleased smile before you placed your hands on your hips before you nodded in satisfaction. “Mmhmm, there we go!! I missed those rosy cheeks of yours!!” You said, he blinked in confusion. “Rosy?” He asked.

You nodded. The small child you had seen before questioned aloud. “Inuyasha had rosy cheeks?” He asked, his little voice made your heart clench from how cute he sounded, you looked over at him, he was sitting in the young girl's arms, and he was nested in her arms as she cradled him. His bright green eyes made you nearly squeal at how cute he was. His big blue bow in his ginger hair was just too cute. His sharp ears and little fangs indicated that he was a demon child, but you already knew that from his scent. You smiled at him, nodding at his question.

“That’s right when he was younger, he had the cutest rosy cheeks!! They were always either pink or shy of red, I just couldn’t bare to see him without them any longer!!” You explained as you gushed at the memory. He growled from behind you as you retold the memories of his cheeks that he himself must’ve forgotten. The small boy stared up at you before he gave a smug smirk over at Inuyasha. “I never knew that Inuyasha had girly cheeks.” He said in a teasing voice.

Inuyasha glared over at him. “WHAT YOU SAY!?” He shouted as he stomped but made no advance towards him. The girl holding him stared at Inuyasha with an observatory stare. “You know, it is kind of cute.” She said, he stepped back at her comment. “W-WHAT!?” He called out, the woman on the large feline also gave him the same stare. “I agree with, Kagome, it surprisingly fits you.” She said, Inuyasha stared at her with a look of disbelief. The Monk behind her nodded his head in agreement. “It suits your human qualities.” He said.

Inuyasha grumbled as he turned away from the group, he pulled his sleeve down over his hand as he scrubbed at his cheeks, trying to get rid of the redness, unknowingly making it redder. You chuckled at his actions, as you rubbed his back soothingly. You continued rubbing his back as you looked back over at the group, finally taking them in. They all stared at your action with a questioning stare.

You eyed their clothing, they all seemed normal, aside from the girl holding the boy. She wore a small green cloth, and long white socks with large leather covering over her feet. She wore a long white sleeve piece of fitted clothing with a green pattern on it, and a red cloth tied around her neck.

Your nose twitched as you blinked. “You’re not from around here, are you?” You asked aloud, they all looked over at you, and the girl blinked before she gave you a slightly nervous smile. “Umm, yeah, you’re not wrong.” She said. You smiled at her, you could tell that she was young, your motherly instinct blooming to life. “No need to be nervous dear, I don’t bite.”

You gently said as you tried to calm her, it seemed to work, the warmth in your eyes matched your smile and she seemed to relax. You chuckled, your eyes closing as you looked back at Inuyasha who still had his back toward everyone. “Inuyasha, won’t you invite your friends inside? I was just about to make some steamed dumplings.” You suggested. His ears slightly twitched and he stood up straighter.

You gave a sly smile his way. “I was also about to make some sashimi, with some steamed dumplings and rice.” You said as you turned towards the hut. He turned towards you, his eyes slightly widen. “Sashimi?” He asked, you held in your giggle at his cuteness that he never seemed to lose. “Sashimi.” You confirmed. He stood there a little longer before he looked at his small group. “Well, you guys heard her, get inside.” He said. You shook your head at his rudeness, but he’s always been this way.

You walked on towards the hut, as you listened to the lot of them bicker amongst themselves…

The sun has fully vanished, and with her, she took her bright light, and in her stead, the moon and all her followers appeared. The straw curtain to your hut was drawn, closing the doorway to the hut, shielding your privacy from the world. The rice was being cooked over the flames in the cauldron, you made more steamed dumplings and sashimi.

You were steering the rice in the cauldron gently, so as to not make the rice mushy. Inuyasha, Miroku, and Shippo were all sitting by the door of the hut, while You, Kagome, and Sango were all helping to prepare the meal. When they all first entered, they all introduced themselves to you. You were surprised that they have yet to ask whom you were to Inuyasha, but they could tell that you were very important.

Once the majority of the food was done, both Kagome and Sango sat down with you around the fire, as they quietly conversed with you, while you steered the rice. “So, if it isn’t rude of me to ask, who are you to Inuyasha?” Sango asked. Everyone looked over at you, curious eyes stared at you as they all waited patiently for you to answer. You’ve been waiting for this question, and you gently placed the wooden spoon down on the setting stone to keep the water from molding your tatami floors.

“I don’t mind at all, in fact, I’m shocked that Inuyasha hasn’t yet spoken of me.” You said, your voice even while a motherly warmth spread from you. Kagme stared at you for a moment, before she gasped as if she placed together a long-awaited thought together. You smiled at her as a knowing gleam came into your eyes. “My name is (Y/N), and I am Inuyasha’s adoptive mother.” You explained as you bowed in a proper greeting.

They all stared at you in shock before they all looked over at Inuyasha who had his eyes closed, his sword cradled in his arms, but his ears twitched to show that he was listening. They all looked back over at you. “YOU’RE HIS WHAT!?” They all shouted. You sat back up before you gave them all a small giggle.

#ao3 #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha x reader #kagome #miroku #sango #shippo #kirara #mother reader #adoptive mother

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