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trancylovecraft · 1 year

Note

So, I just met you today with the Cherry Blossom Kokushibo fic and, you know, I just fell in love with your writing

I've had this idea in my mind for a while and when I read your fanfic I just knew you were the perfect person to put it into words

May I request an Oneshot with Muzan Kibutsuji/Fem reader? So, I've imagined for a while a fanfic where Muzan encounters a female reader who suffers from albinism, having very pale skin, white hair and natural red eyes. Because she was born like that, people rumored her to be a demon (sensibility to sunlight and red eyes aggravated that), and that caused her to be isolated from all and unable to wed. She is from a noble family and that is why she's still alive, but that doesn't soothe the wound since her family treats her like an outcast.

Bitter with resentment, under the moonlight of the bedroom, she curses all of those who waste their health living mundane lives while she suffers in loneliness. Her nihilism, indifference and hate makes her unafraid of Muzan as, if she thinks he will devour her, she asks for him to at least kill her family too. Little does she know that Kibutsuji already knows her, and he is infatuated with her. (If he wants to wed her and turn her into a demon she ain't complaining, especially if their engagement is celebrated with a bit of family massacre)

This idea was inspired by spider lillies, moonlight and the fact that I'd like to imagine Muzan with someone who resembles him when he was a human (Narcisistic King would only date those who remind him of himself)

I apologise if this request is too long for your liking, I am not very good with words and simplifying something I am excited about!

- the banana split jane doe

(KNY) YANDERE MUZAN x ALBINO READER: The Light Side of the Moon

(DW, I gotchu girlie. Hope you enjoy this one!)

The sun's rays shone down onto the overgrown field.

The rays seemed to reflect off of every grass strand and every drop of dew fell from the rain the night before.

It was a beautiful day despite the heavy rain last night, So much so that in the early hours of the morning the village kids had left early to run around in the grass and play dirty. Of course they would, It was getting into the colder months as indicated by the chilling breeze running through the valley. The children had to make use of every wake of sunlight before the snow came in.

So out in the field there was a good group of kids in the dozens play fighting and playing tag, Not giving mind to the dirtying of their kimono's and haori's. Their laughter rang out and bounced around like they were in a cave.

"Stupid.." [F/N] muttered, A bitter resentment lacing her voice like venom as she looked out at all the kids running wild in the valley.

She sat perched under the big zelkova tree overlooking the entire valley. It's branches were large and it's leaves were enough in number to filter out any sunlight passing through it, A perfect condition for the girl.

[F/N] sat right up against the tree for support as she brushed her hair with her fingers. Her locks were pure white, So was her skin. It wasn't like the kids who had pale skin nor was her hair light like the occasional person with a story, But instead something much more extreme.

When [F/N] was born she was diagnosed with albinism. According to the doctor who delivered her, Her mother had screamed in disgust at the sight of her while her father had demanded to know who she cheated on him with.

Her father wanted to kill her, He couldn't stand to look at such a horrid child. He wanted to throw her out into the river and hope nature took its course, However, He was fortunately stopped by the mere fact that they were noble blood and had already told the village-people the birth was successful. Killing her now would only severely damage reputation. Therefore letting her live.

From that day forward she was considered bad luck.

The local folklore was that albinism was a curse from an ancestor to atone for wrongdoings done in their time. It was an omen of death, Also known as: Something to avoid.

And the locals took it to heart. Every time [F/N] would walk down the street, Every time she'd go out to the market she'd get stares, Heckled and harassed her when she walked. Suddenly the prices at the market would go up, Just for her.

It didn't help that the consequences that came with the defect definetly made it seem like a curse. Due to the complete lack of melanin anywhere the sun scorched her skin like fire, Leaving her needing to take special precaution when leaving the house. Her eyesight wasn't the best either, Though it was much better than the normal person with albinism she still did have trouble seeing at times.

The past two months didn't help her case either, With the recent mutilations of the-

A rock slammed into the side of [F/N]'s head, Making her double over onto the grass. The sound of a couple children cheering rang out from down the hill. She hissed in pain.

"Take that, Demon!" One of the boys said, Having been the one who threw the rock. [F/N] clutched the side of her head where the impact hit. She could feel the early gathering of blood start to stain her pristine kept hair.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" [F/N] screamed.

Pushing her body back up to look at the group of kids with an absolutely furious expression. The kids stood strong however, Only taking a few meek steps towards her.

"Leave our families alone!" Another one shouted, A girl this time. Her face was angry too, Only as much as a young child's could look. The other kids who weren't involved in the group stopped playing to watch the scene.

The mutilations, Of course. They started around two months ago with the Furukawa family. It was awful, One of their elderly neighbours had picked up a rotten smell and had asked her son to go check on them. Of course they came across both the mother and the father's pieces spread across the Livingroom.

[F/N] was familiar with the two, They had often been one of the more outspoken village people about their dislike of her and a few days before had shoved her aside while she was walking around.

She knew she should of shown some kind of emotion at the news of their slaughter, But to be honest, [F/N] didn't care. If anything, She felt a small tinge of relief.

They weren't there to harass her anymore, Or make off-hand remarks. For that she was glad.

"I never touched your stupid families!" [F/N] yelled back at her. Her deep vermillion eyes were filled with disgust like she was staring down an insect she could crush under the sole of her sandals.

"Liar!" Another one of the kids stepped out from behind the small group. He wasn't one of the bigger ones, He was in fact rather scrawny with unkempt hair. But [F/N] recognised him as the Furukawa's youngest kid.

"M-My parents died because of you.." He muttered, Looking down at his shoes unable to meet [F/N]'s eyes. His hands clenched into a determined fist, His body shook with vigour.

"They were great people! You had no right to take them away from me. Just because the other adults don't see you as the demon you are doesn't mean we don't!" He yelled back at her. The other kids joined in with supportive remarks following his speech.

"One day, When I get older I'll get revenge for them. I'll get re-" A rock slammed straight into his open jaw.

The kid screamed and fell to the floor with a loud thud!

The other kids yelped and backed away from the boy, Who was coughing up teeth and blood. He writhed around on the ground groaning in pain.

[F/N] was standing up now. She had picked up the rock that was thrown at her and flung it right back at the kid. She stood there seething in a fighting stance.

"Demon? I'll show you demon!" [F/N] yelled. She swiftly grabbed another rock and hurled it straight at the girl who chose to speak out, Hitting her straight on the forehead with a sick crunch.

The previously silent kids amplified into an uproar.

Screaming echoed around in the valley as all the kids tried to get away from the ensuing fight. [F/N] kept picking up rocks from the small hill and hurling them at the group. The kids who started the fight tried to haul away the two kids who got the worst of it, Picking them up by the arms trying to drag them away from the attacks.

"DON'T YOU EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN OR IT'LL BE YOU NEXT! I SWEAR TO THE GODS IT'LL BE YOU!" [F/N] screamed, Her voice hitting high's that could be heard from the village.

The kids had gotten a good distance away from her now but that didn't stop [F/N] from throwing more stones.

"YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?!" She yelled after them, Raising another rock to throw.

But by the time she had finished they had all scampered away back home.

She was left standing on top of the hill, Under the shade of the big zelkova tree, Looking out over the now empty and desolate field which had such a lively energy before but now was cold and lost.

She was panting, Letting out heavy breaths of air that turned into mist in the cold climate. The rock in her hand she was about to throw lowered, Dropping it to the ground. She exhaled for a final time, Letting all the anger and rage dissolve into mild annoyance she finally relaxed.

"Dumb kids.." She huffed. Shaking her head she leaned down to pick up the thick birch handle of her parasol.

Grabbing it she extended the blue patterned canopy, Making sure it covered her form she dusted herself off. Settling the parasol handle on her shoulder she set off out into the valley, Dreading her walk back home.

☆♡☆

"That was a horrible thing you did"

[F/N]'s mother stood a few feet away from her, Circling around her like a predator yet keeping a good enough distance to test the acidic waters. [F/N] felt her teeth grind against each other and her palms get sweaty.

Of course, The kids from earlier had ran back to her house to snitch on her to her mother. Well, Not the kids but the parents of the girl and the eldest brother of the Furukawa family being rightfully angry.

[F/N] was made aware of this when she came home at the first sign of the sun setting. Her mother was perched on the large porch of their family home waiting for [F/N]'s arrival, From the first time [F/N] spotted her mother she could of mistaken smoke from coming out of her ears.

It was frustrating, While she figured her mother would find out eventually it didn't take anything away from the experience. Though, She supposed she was lucky.

Her father being a noble and very highly profiled swordsman meant he was disciplined, And it also meant he expected that from all his children. Luckily enough though he was out on a very long business trip. If he was here, [F/N] knew that she'd get more than a serious lecture.

"So what? They attacked me first, It's only karma what they got" [F/N] responded, Her voice trying to stay levelled and calm yet shook at the seams. Her mother scoffed at that.

"They're just kids, [F/N]! They don't know any better and you should have taken that into account" Her mother exclaimed incredulously, Taking a few prompted steps up towards her daughter with purpose.

"Well maybe they'd know better if they're parents were still around to teach them better, Not that its my fault like they think though, Right?" [F/N] spat, Her voice venomous and the sheer disregard for the weight of her words went through her mother like a static shock.

"How fucking dare you.." Her mother whispered, Her voice full of disbelief at her daughters words leaving her jaw agape and eyes wide.

"Well I mean, The parents were already shitty people to begin with so I suppose that whoever ripped them apart did the kids a favour-"

SLAP!

[F/N]'s monologue was cut short by the hand connecting hard to the side of her cheek. [F/N] yelped out and stumbled back trying to catch her balance.

The hit had landed roughly at the side leaving only a single burst of a painful red on her monochromatic get-up.

"Your ideology is absolutely disgusting, How bloody dare you speak about the dead like that? You don't have any right to say that about anyone, Young lady!" Her mother yelled at her, Only about a foot away from her face.

[F/N] blinked away the tears from the pain and instantly snapped back.

"I'm saying what nobody else has the guts to! Just because you're all cowards and ignorant bastards doesn't mean you get to take it out on me!" [F/N] screamed back at her mother, Getting up into her face.

"You kee-"

While speaking, Her mothers hand shot out to grab [F/N]'s shoulder but her wrist was snatched by the younger girl, Who held it with an iron grip cutting off the older woman's speech.

"Don't you dare lay another hand on me.." [F/N] hissed. Her face seemed to be etched with a wild kind of rage like a feral dog, The single action of her mother making the anger so clear to anyone who could see.

Her mother, Being a much older woman than her daughter had much more brittle bones. The grip on her wrist being sore and painful on her old skin as she tried to pull away from her daughters grasp.

Realising what she was doing [F/N] let go of her mother, Who staggered a good few feet back from her assailant.

[F/N] mumbled a small yet sour apology and marched off towards the door out of the main Livingroom.

As she opened the sliding door and stepped out she heard her mother call out back to her.

"Y-You go up to your room and stay there, Young lady. Only come down once your ready to apologise!" She heard her mothers weak voice call out to her as she shut the door.

"I know!" [F/N] replied without looking back at her.

The door finally closed to leave her in the dim hallway, The only light shone from behind the Livingroom door leaving the entire hallway almost impossible to see in. [F/N] stood still behind the door, Making no move to head to her room. She looked down at her feet to contemplate her situation.

"Really? Hitting our mother? You've reached a new kind of low, Haven't you [F/N]?" A voice called out a little way down the hall.

[F/N] jerked her head up to the source of the voice and groaned.

Her younger brother, Juro, Stood at the end of the hall seemingly just came down the stairs. His head was held high and the usual smug grin lay planted on his face as always, He had his arms folded across his chest and his entire figure radiated false superiority.

[F/N] was the oldest of the five children her parents had conceived. Juro was the second oldest by only about five years apart in birth. [F/N] supposed that the reason they had such a big gap in age was due to the looming fear of their parents producing another demon child.

Though when they did give birth to Juro and found out he was a regular child compared to their monster of an eldest, [F/N] knew how much he'd be absolutely spoiled rotten, Which matched his personality like a pair of gloves.

It gave him a rather annoying superiority complex, With all the spoiling and being the one destined to become the head of their families clan and wealth you could probably see how it got to his head.

However it didn't stop [F/N] from being distasteful in behaviour towards him, The nasty expression on her face evident of that.

"Oh get off my case, Like you really give a damn." [F/N] scoffed, Straightening out her back to reach her full height.

"Of course I 'give a damn'. It's our mother and one of the figure heads of this clan, You really should be more respectful to your elders. Why mother keeps you around elludes me" Juro replied, Making sure to drawl out every condesending syllable to its full potential.

[F/N] knew exactly why her mother and father kept her around: They couldn't get rid of her. Their original plan was to marry her off, It didn't matter if it was to a nobleman or a commoner to them. The only thing that did was getting her to leave.

Though it imploded on itself when they realised no one would take her, Both her attitude and her looks were a big enough deterrent. Great for her but bad for her parents.

"Ah, Right. Because she shows such an amazing amount of respect towards me, I honestly feel so awful about it" [F/N] gasped, Sarcasm dripped from every word and fell like acid making Juro's eyebrow twitch.

He moved forward a few steps, Sizing her up as he went.

"Well the difference is that mother has a reason to not respect you, I mean come on, It's obvious. Maybe if you do treat her with the right attitude then maybe she might start seeing you in a different way" Juro said the last part as if he was trying to contain laughter, Like he had just heard the most offensive joke in the world he just couldn't laugh at.

[F/N] felt her fists clench and tighten to bare her knuckles.

"But with such sour attitude I do suppose it would be impossible for you, Wouldn't it? Dear sister?" Juro whispered as he got up into her face. Only a couple inches away from her now he carefully eyed her down, Waiting for one single move.

[F/N]'s teeth grinded, Her tightened palms grew sweaty and itched for the offensive attack. She wanted to punch him, She wanted to attack him and wipe that disgusting, Grimy smirk off of his arrogant little face.

However, [F/N] just sighed and let her fist drop loose into straightened palms. She knew what he was doing, She wasn't going to give into his taunt. She's had enough for tonight.

"Back off, Juro." [F/N] simply warned. Turning away from his expression now filled with annoyed disappointment she headed off towards the stairwell at the end off the hallway.

As she got up the steps she heard his smug voice call after her.

"Such a lovely chat with you as always!"

☆♡☆

The sound of childlike laughter resonated throughout the house, Despite the muffled sound of it [F/N] could hear the weight of it even from behind the thick walls of her room.

The pale moonlight of the night had illuminated the unlit room and flooded the area with a subtle glow, The silk blinds danced along with the soft breeze lifting into the room.

Her bedroom was situated at the very top of the large family home, The third floor. The massive house was large and sat at the edge of the village they lived in, Overlooking the entire town yet having enough distance to be considered a private property separate from the other houses.

The house was home to three floors in total. The first was the main area home to the kitchen, Livingroom and general activities such as a drawing room, Dining hall and her fathers very own training room.

The second was housing all of the bedrooms. All of her siblings, Parents and even the guest sleeping quarters were located there. It also even held a small room for their families servants.

And finally, The third was by far the loneliest of the trio.

It was much smaller compared to the other floors and was the newest built. It only housed a single hallway and [F/N]'s own separate bedroom which made up the majority of the floor.

Usually the prospect of having an entire floor to themselves would entice and excite anyone. The privacy and spacious area would seem like a blessing.

And yes, [F/N] agreed. It was a blessing alright. She was granted privacy from the struggle that was her family, It gave her time on her own to be herself.

But she also had to admit: It had it's downsides. Another laugh sounded out from downstairs on the first floor. The movements of the hairbrush on [F/N]'s light locks halted, Just for a moment as she listened to the joyous voice of her youngest sister.

They were having dinner, It seemed. [F/N] didn't apologise and had no intention to, So she was forced to reside in her room.

She continued to comb through her hair, Feeling the tug of the movements as she listened to the laughter down below cease.

[F/N] scoffed at it and tried to take her mind away and focus on the strokes of the brush. Though she couldn't help but trail off to the infuriating scenario happening downstairs.

Since her father was away her mother was probably the one to cook the food tonight, She always did instead of the family servants, Her own personal recipe of a Sukiyaki stew pot that she made to comfort her kids while their dad was away.

Her kids.

A mother is suppose to "love" her kids unconditionally, And in that aspect she certainly did, All except when it came to her. [F/N] knew her mother had tried at least, But it came off in the way you'd treat an unwelcomed guest. Trying to give due respect yet wanting them out of your house as soon as possible.

[F/N] had figured a long time ago that it was better to be treated with ire than pity and had given up all sense of courtesy towards her mother, Continuing to this day.

A faint tug pulled in her chest as another roar of laughter came up from downstairs, They seemed to be having a good time.

[F/N] finally set down her brush onto the vanity. The small sound of the wood hitting the desk seemed so much louder in the large area of her room.

[F/N] supposed she did need to give her mother some credit, She was the one to let her have the single room at the very top of the house (Even if it was to keep her away from the rest of her family)

But the room seemed so.. Empty.

[F/N] stared into the vanity mirror, The light surface of the glass reflecting her own pale visage back at her.

She trailed a hand across her features to examine for any blemishes, Pushing back any stray strands of hair from her face and pulling them behind her ear. Staring deep into the clear colour of her cardinal rose eyes she assessed their problems, And she found none.

When times like these came about [F/N] often pondered about why people didn't like her more. She was beautiful, Stunning, Exotic even to the disgusting drunk men that passed her by on the moonlit walks.

So why even if some drunkards could see her beauty why couldn't the locals and her own family see that too instead of the cursed child from a close-to-god family?

It couldn't be her attitude, That was just a by-product of their own treatment toward her. So why? She was born this way, She couldn't change how she looked, She should of been adored.

Yet all the locals, All of her beloved family, All of the suitors that her parents had tried to ship her off to had only a single look at her before rejecting her whole.

One day, She promised herself. One day she'd get back at them, She didn't know how or when or even if she could but she knew that one day, They would regret treating her like a bug under their foot.

As her mind wandered she started to realise that maybe it wasn't the room that was empty.

A sudden knock echoed out, Crashing [F/N]'s train of thought.

[F/N] jerked her head over to the main door of her room. Getting up from the small pillow she sat on she moved quietly to the entrance. Turning the knob and opening the door she was met face to face with one of her families servants.

"Your mother has requested me to bring you your dinner" The servant said, Robotic and monotone in voice as he presented her a bowl of udon. [F/N] paused at the sight of it.

"..It's not Sukiyaki stew pot.." She mumbled.

"Correct, Ma'am" He replied in short.

[F/N] was silent as she carefully took the small bowl from his hands, She barely noticed the small bow and the closing of the door before it was entirely shut.

[F/N] examined the soggy noodles and small tempura bits in the bowl, A barely generous helping.

She 'tched at the sight but figured she was lucky enough to even get dinner in the first place.

Turning around she walked over to the other set of double doors at the end of the room, Food in one hand she pushed the door open to reveal the small balcony outside. Stepping out into the night's cool air she took a deep breath in.

The laughter was no longer audible once she shut the door, Only replaced by the sound of cicada hums and the clacking of tiles when she clambered up onto the slanted roof of the house.

[F/N] sat down on the tiles and looked out onto the sea of village houses down below, The faint lantern light from the village was warm and inviting in contrast to the inhabitants, Of whom were out doing their nightly patrol's in watch for another mutilation.

However the scene didn't interest her in the slightest, Instead it was the moon which seemed to hang over her entire world.

It glowed brighter than any lantern the village people could spark, Yet the light was never overwhelming or stung her eyes in the slightest. Instead the soft rays of moonlight had only provided comfort.

[F/N] didn't know why it brought such solace, Maybe its because it never burnt her skin like the sun did. The moon replaced it in that way, The night time became her daytime, When she felt most lively: Herself.

She often came up onto the roof to feel that way, Every time without missing a single night she'd climb up onto the roof and speak to the moon for hours like it was an old friend. Or maybe just to stare and admire the pale light of its beauty.

But to be fair, [F/N] never felt much at all.

When she did it was always a constant state of annoyance, Anger or resentment. The feeling the moon brought her was still very unfamiliar to her, But very much welcome. She barely understood anything other than the undying resentment, Maybe it was a sad existence but to be fair she barely understood sadness either.

She realised the udon in her hands was growing cold. Reaching behind her for the pair of chopsticks she noticed something else a little further ahead from them, Lying on the roof.

She raised an eyebrow and squinted her eyes to examine it closer, But they instantly shot out once she realised what it was.

It was a single bouquet of flowers, Red, Beautiful roses sprung from the carefully arranged bunch.

[F/N]'s breath hitched in her throat, Her whole body seemed to clench up at even a small sight of it. A bouquet of roses? Who could of left those here? They couldn't be for her, Could they?

She set down her bowl of udon carefully beside her, Eyeing the bouquet like it was bound to attack her yet it didn't stop her quick crawl over to its side.

Nor did it stop the almost desperate grab she made for the neck of the bunch, Pulling it close to her chest she finally noticed the small tag sticking out from the flowers reading: To [F/N] Shiratori.

She felt the concentrated joy explode inside her like bottle rockets, The absolute euphoria flooded her senses as she felt hot blood rise to her cheeks, Giving colour to them yet said no pain.

The roses were absolutely beautiful, Carefully handpicked as the petals seemed soft and fresh. She grinned wildly, They must of took great thought while preparing it.

She couldn't help but shove her face into the roses to inhale their scent, The sweet yet rich aroma circled in her mind. They truly were the best of the bunch.

But when she pulled away she noticed she had neglected a small envelope from where the bouquet was sitting before, Hiding the envelope below it.

Her lips quirked. First the roses, Now a letter? She giggled slightly, Imagining whoever it was is a real romantic.

Extracting the envelope and gently opening it's folds she pulled the paper from its cover and unfolded it to view the contents.

Dear, [F/N]. My one and only.

Ever since I saw you on this rooftop, I knew you were the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I hope one day we will get to meet, One day in the near future.

Love, Your admirer.

It was such a simple letter, Only two simple sentences of sweet but common flatter words yet once she had finished the final word the fireworks of a foreign emotion burst inside her.

She knew it was something akin to euphoria, An exhilaration that made her blood rush to her cheeks and heat up her entire system in the cold nights air, Yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't identify the rhapsody of song inside her.

Though she couldn't deny, It felt good. Better than she's ever felt in a very long time.

[F/N] embraced the letter with her whole body, Curling up around it to try and squeeze out more of the intoxicating feel, An addictive high.

The letter and bouquet, Whoever may have left it there, Wherever they may be, They must really really like her.

☆♡☆

The yelling of her family woke [F/N] from her peaceful slumber.

Her heavy eyelids were wrenched open as she writhed around atop the roof tiles, Bothered by the loud intrusion.

Once she finally let the light hit her pupils she realised her mistake. She was in the light, The sunlight was touching her skin.

[F/N] yelled out and instantly scuffled down off the roof, Swinging open the door she almost lunged into the safety of her house shade as she fell onto the floorboards.

Her skin burned and tinged lightly. Examining her skin she found the beginnings of a mild sunburn on her arms, The red welts fizzling up into her hands all the way to her forearms. Her light kimono doing nothing to shield her from the UV rays.

She had fallen asleep on the roof and had neglected the danger of doing so, In her panic [F/N] chided herself for her stupid mistake.

Yet outside it seemed like it was just the break of dawn, The orange to yellow hues painting the sky signalled the early hours of the morning. She was lucky that the noise woke her up in time, Otherwise her problem would be much worse.

Scrambling over to her vanity mirror to examine the full entirety of her body she gasped on sight as soon as she saw her reflection in the polished glass. Her face.

At least a good third of face was covered in red hot boils and welts, The sore burn crept up from her left cheek over to her chin, Reaching as far as her right side too.

"No.. No, No, No.. Please, No!" She yelled, [F/N]'s eyes almost popped out of her sockets with tears starting to form at the corners. She trailed her equally burnt hands across the scorch marks in disbelief at what she was seeing.

A sudden rapid pounding at her door knocked her out of her stupor.

"[F/N]! Open the door, Now!" It was her mother's voice. The alarm in her voice seemed to resonate in [F/N] to give her a grasp of their unknown situation.

"Jeez.. Hold on!" [F/N] called out towards her door, Yet she saw the handle start to turn. A spike in her adrenaline shot up.

"I'm getting dressed, Damn it!" [F/N] screamed, Her voice as hoarse as a fourty-year chain-smoker. The turning of the knob stopped as soon as she let the words leave her mouth.

"Fine, But make it quick! And make sure to put on something nice." Her mother yelled back at her, A small tint of exasperation lacing her tone yet her footsteps leaving down the hallway sounded determined in their path.

[F/N] cursed. Bullets of sweat rolled down her face and stung the burns where they lay. She had no idea what she was going to do. Rapidly sliding out drawers in her vanity to find anything of use, To no avail.

Next she went to her closet. Swinging the old wooden doors open she shifted through her different coloured kimonos. Pulling through the silk and cotton she found nothing of use except for a thickly woven navy kimono that was oversized and could cover her body nice and neatly.

Despite that there was still the issue of her face, The burn marks were so noticeable you could see them from miles away. There was nothing that could hide her scorches from the sun-

Her hand bumped up against something.

[F/N]'s temple furrowed. Reaching into the back of dark, Spacious cupboard she gripped onto the object she felt was made of straw.

With a tug and a pull she managed to haul out the hefty object, Revealing it to be her old uchikatsugi.

It was a gift from the town's doctor before he passed away from old age a few years ago, [F/N] remembered him fondly even though he was never really around.

He still did greet her with a smile and a handshake every time they met, It wouldn't be wrong to describe him as a father figure either.

Though as always, Good things didn't last. They never did.

[F/N] had no time to dwell on that last thought, Her relief was a much more appealing distraction.

The uchikatsugi, A large straw hat for noblewomen with a large silky veil to cover her face. Back when she got it, It was way too big for her to use with her small body so she stored it in her closet for a later use, [F/N] supposed she just forgot about it.

She sat the large hat down on her head, And with a little shimmying to get it properly down it fit her head like a glove to a hand.

Once she finished changing into her dark cerulean kimono, She was ready to go downstairs and see whatever it was her family was making such a ruckus about.

As she took careful strides down the creaky steps of the stairs she saw her mother impatiently tapping her foot at the bottom. [F/N], Before making herself known, Fixed up her appearance to make sure nothing was showing free.

Once she was pleased, [F/N] cleared her throat to which her mother jerked her head around to her 'daughters' direction.

"Ah, Finally. I was wondering what took you so long." Her mother remarked, Letting her folded arms drop to her sides. [F/N] huffed at the passive aggressive tone yet felt alleviation, Her clothes worked, Her mother couldn't see a thing.

"Had to find a good enough outfit for such an important event, At least from the sounds of it. Why am I up this early anyways?" [F/N] yawned, Still not quite tuned in despite her earlier shock.

"There was another one." Her mother responded quickly, Turning away.

"Another what?" [F/N] queried, Tad annoyed at her mothers elusive behaviour.

"Another mutilation, [F/N]." Her mother exasperated, Swiftly turning back to look at her with an expression that just oozed the word obviously.

[F/N] stopped, Mulling over the information.

"Alright, Okay that's bad but why does this concern me?" She asked after a moment.

Her mother shook her head to her daughters persistence.

"This is a village matter, [F/N]. Something we are apart of" Her mother explained, Treating [F/N] like a curious toddler repeatedly asking why.

"Unfortunately.." [F/N] muttered.

"Just get a move on downstairs now, Swiftly now.." Her mother said, Quickly pulling [F/N]'s shoulder and hushing her down the second set of stairs. [F/N] shrugged of her mothers firm hand, Telling her she'll go down herself.

Settling her hat comfortably onto her head she headed downstairs, Dreading future events.

☆♡☆

The early morning air was cold and fresh as it weaved through the tall houses of the village.

Usually in the mornings with the first break of dawn you could hear the chirping of the crows harking in the early crowds off to work. You could see the townsfolk head to the markets and children run about in the streets, Laughing and roughhousing with each other like siblings together.

But today was different.

The echo of crows on the village walls were silent now. The children who use to run about in the streets buck wild were now pulled close to their parents, A worried smile replacing their usual carefree faces.

[F/N] stood away back from the large crowd gathered in the centre of the village, Everyone from the village was here. The elders, The working class to the babies were summoned together in the village, All quietly chattering amongst themselves.

She observed the crowd in distain, What mundane people leading such plain lives. They They wasted their lives in the sun, Taking the warmth for granted working nine to fives and coming home to their stupid little families, Accomplishing nothing big in their lives yet they boasted of grandeur while she stood standing away from them, Suffering from the pain of her sunburn.

She huffed at the thought.

[F/N] didn't stand with her family, She only watched them as they made their way to the front of the front of the crowd of which immediately quieted down at the sight of them

[F/N]'s father was considered the head of the village and therefore took care of all the important matters.

However since he was absent it was up to her mother to take care of her husbands duties while he was away

"Hello everybody, It's good to see you all out here today." Her mother called out her opening statement. She was backed by the other four of her siblings, Juro standing especially besides her.

Despite her hello's, Nobody answered her.

"I suppose you all know why you were called here, Regarding the death of the Hagihara family." Her mother continued.

Hagihara, That rang a bell in [F/N]'s mind.

Her eyes widened in recognition, The neurons connecting in her mind as the face of the little girl she had hit with a rock entered into her head.

"If you're not already aware of what happened, Early in the morning screams were heard from their family home. On investigation they were found.. Killed inside their Livingroom.. No survivors" Her mother announced.

A few shocked gasps ran from the crowd, The chatter from before sparked up like a lighter on the fuel of information. However their talking was calmed by her mother rather loudly clearing her throat.

"Yes, Yes. I understand this is horrible information, And I know a good lot of you were close with the family and I do offer my sincerest apologies." Her mother said. Her voice filled with a genuine sympathy, Showing it by giving a few select nods towards some of the crowd.

[F/N] didn't listen to her mother however, The information was still fresh in her mind.

This information should have left a lack of feeling in [F/N]'s chest, And regarding the deaths it did.

But the coincidence of it felt like a static shock to a dead heart. First it was the Furukawa's, They were particularly nasty to [F/N]. When they fell victims to the night veiled attacks she had felt glad despite how morbid it was, They weren't there to harass her anymore.

However now it was the Hagihara's, Only yesterday did they get negatively involved with her after the rock incident and now they were dead.

No. No, It was just a coincidence.

Even though they did hold hatred against her so did all of the other villagers. If the mutilations were connected to her then the mutilations would be targeted towards more outspoken villagers, Even if it was because of the rock incident other villagers would of been targeted before her. Her family would be targeted before them.

Even so, She needed to make sure.

[F/N] was barely listening when she quickly took off away from the crowd down an alleyway. Slipping away from the group with ease as their attention was still heavily focused onto her mother, Who was still continuing on with her speech. She couldn't bare to be surrounded by such waste of flesh anymore.

She picked up pace once she realised she was far enough away, Managing to navigated the rock base of the village with proficiency and quickly coming to a stop once she stood in front of the targeted house. Luckily it was located on the other side of the village, She could make as much noise as she needed.

Once she finally stopped she could notice the broken down door almost instantly. The village houses were regularly built together so this was striking to her. The shoji door was splintered into pieces of wood and sheet, Tiny pieces.

[F/N] swallowed a lump in her throat, Realising the weight of what she was doing. But it didn't stop her from taking strides forward, Past the destroyed bits of door and into the house where she saw the real carnage.

The Livingroom was absolutely destroyed.

Walls were shook and large scratch marks decorated them like paintings. Furniture was flung about and lay toppled across the entire main room like a wild beast was let loose, A bear, A rhino. Something of that size could of done this, Yet she could tell it was entirely human design.

The room was completely in the dark, No sunlight shown through which let [F/N] take her uchikatsugi off to get a better look.

Despite all of the wreckage its the fact that the room was coloured head to toe in red, That is what sent a feeling of dread crawl up [F/N]'s back.

The blood was stained on table cloths, Floors, Wooden walls. Anything that could be stained was drenched in the now-dry ichor of red. Thankfully the bodies weren't here anymore, Most likely hauled off to get cremated.

The singe of the scent of blood itched at the tip of [F/N]'s nose as she took a few more cautious steps inside, Carefully avoiding the debris as she finally made her way into the centre of the Livingroom.

The whole place just radiated fear and destruction, So much so that it felt like a cold hand was resting on her shoulder when she looked out at the scene.

Her eyes shot up.

She jerked her whole body around and stumbled back like a shock to her system, She lost her balance and fell backwards.

"Careful there." The smooth voice belonged to a man, Who caught her once she fell backwards.

His strength was commendable as he only laid a single hand on her back to keep her supported.

[F/N] was breathing heavily, Loud gasps of air from the sheer fright the man gave her. He gently lifted her up to her feet, Making sure to steady her.

"I apologise if I gave you a fright there, I do have a habit of being a quiet walker" He explained with a courteous smile.

"Yeah.. You do.." That was all [F/N] could say, Her breath still taken away but not from the fall as she laid her eyes on the mans face.

The man was pale, Deathly pale. While [F/N] was as white as a sheet from her condition it looked like he was sickly and withering, Yet the look seemed to compliment his bone structure. His dark wavy locks shaped his face and came down to his sharp jawline, Perfectly brushed and trimmed.

However it was his eyes that struck [F/N] the most, The same ruby irises that she had harboured stared right back at her. Even through the darkness of the room she could see the vividness of the red through the suffocating black.

"..Are you alright?" He asked. [F/N] didn't even realise she was staring before he snapped her out of it.

"Yes, Yes. I'm fine, Thank you." She said, A hint of practiced resentment laced her voice. A built-up tactic to protect herself. But the suspicion was warrented however, The clean cut black suit vest with golden coloured lacing was clue enough to tell her he wasn't from here.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, Resting her hands onto her hips. Her eyes were locked onto his own, Searching for any sign of deception.

The man simply let out a breath of air.

"I'm here to this village on business reasons, I was just passing through when I saw the door broken down. I'm just here to make sure everything is alright." He explained, A light carefree tone in his voice.

"My name is Tsukihiko, I travelled here from Tokyo" Tsukihiko added after a moment.

[F/N] carefully examined his body language for any sign of him lying, Any twitch of the hand or quirk of the lips but she came up empty handed. She had no reason not to believe him.

"Okay then, Tsukihiko.." She drawled, Still cautious of him "Well since you obviously don't know, There's been a string of murders going on in this village for a long while now. You really shouldn't be in here" She said.

"May I ask why you are here then? No offense, But you don't look like an investigator or any kind of authority, Miss." Tsukihiko said yet his tone sounded near playful if it wasn't for his dignified self.

[F/N] felt her tensed shoulders deflate, He got her there.

"..None of your business" She retorted, But her previous aversion had dissolved into a weak huff. "What's an investigator suppose to look like anyways?" [F/N] mused.

"Usually not like a beautiful noblewoman such as yourself, The one's I've seen tend to be a bit more.. Lacking in that department" Tsukihiko replied, As if what he said held absolutely no weight at all.

But that wasn't true to [F/N], The words held so much weight that it squeezed down at her heart. That same, Unfamiliar euphoric feeling she felt holding the flowers kept rushing out of the compressed heart and filling her system once again.

Did he really see her beauty? Or was it a way to strengthen out a deal with a noble family's daughter? If so then the joke would be on him. But he wasn't that far off from her, They were both pale and shared the same wine-stained eyes. Maybe he did understand her beauty. The mere thought of it seemed to clench her heart tighter.

However, It was stopped by a single missed heartbeat.

The sunburn, She still had the sunburn on her skin. Her uchikatsugi still lain slack in her left hand. [F/N] felt her hands suddenly grow clammy and her lungs take in a sharp breath, A quick spike in adrenaline made her entire body freeze up.

Tsukihiko seemed to notice her realisation, Somehow understanding her sudden panic he gently rested a hand onto the girls cheek.

"I mean my words, I'm not quite fond of the sun either." Tsukihiko said, That deep voice ringing soft in the girls ear.

The hand on her cheek should of been warm, But instead of the expected body heat coming from him there was a cold chill that ran down her from his touch.

It felt nice on her sunburn, It seemed to cool down the itchy feel of heat simmering in her skin and instead made it feel like a early summer breeze. [F/N] in response seemed to soften down and lean into the cold, Only a little bit.

"Seriously? People here seem to enjoy the sun a lot, You disliking it would be a first" [F/N] mumbled absentmindedly, Her gaze trailing off to some unknown point of the room. "How'd you know I didn't like the sun anyways?"

"A good guess, I suppose. You have albinism, Correct? It's only natural to have a resentment towards the sun when it sears your skin, I have a particularly terrible condition myself so I suppose I can empathise" Tsukihiko explained.

His words brought [F/N]'s eyes back to his own, Their shared eyes meeting together. Ones searching for any kind of lie while the others looked back with only the sincerest of truth's, At least from what [F/N] could tell anyways.

She felt a sudden sense of an unrecognisable feeling.

Not like the one she had before when it felt like fireworks, But instead one that felt like a rope was tied between the two. Like a single string had suddenly appeared just from his words, A sudden connection.

Connection? That sounded right, At least she thought so.

"..I see. You don't seem to have albinism, So what's your condition anyways?" [F/N] queried. While the man was pale and had the same red eyes she had, It couldn't of been albinism. His hair was a natural noir and his skin still held a very tiny bit of melanin.

[F/N] saw his lips quirk, It wasn't noticeable, Only a quick twitch before they were back to their usual smile. It almost raised an eyebrow.

"..It's not a specific illness that has been diagnosed however the symptoms do include a rather harsh weakness to sunlight." He said.

Thats strange, [F/N] thought. Tsukihiko was only wearing a suit vest, Black dress slacks and a clean white blouse. He had no form of sun protection like [F/N]'s kimono or uchikatsugi. It was weird, And [F/N] wasn't going to let it go for a second.

"Really? Then how did you get here without something like a parasol, Or any kind of protection?" She asked, Her guard raised up once again in light of the new information.

Tsukihiko's guard followed with [F/N]'s. His shoulders stiffened up and the smile on his face seemed just a tad bit more strained than it did before.

"Well luckily due to-"

"[F/N]!" A sudden scream cut through the start of his words. [F/N] gasped, She recognised the voice of which belonged to her mother.

She cursed under her breath and rushed past the man, Her attention fully diverted from him as she set the uchikatsugi onto her head and went out of the house and into the sun.

[F/N] finally stumbled out onto the rocky street road, Only to see her mother at the end of the road angrily making her way towards her. [F/N] sucked air through her teeth, She was in trouble.

She saw Juro stand behind her, Watching their mother make their way towards [F/N] with the omnipresent smugness drenching his face.

"Told you she was here!" He called out to his mother, But she didn't look back, She was way too focused on her eldest who stood there frozen like a frightened opossum.

The heavy sounds of her mothers sandals against rock and the single strum of a biwa echoed out into the wide walls of the village. Luckily no one else was around, Probably still making their way here from being dispersed only earlier from the town meeting.

"What the hell do you think your doing, Young woman?!" Her mother yelled. Finally closing the distance between the two her mothers hand lunged for her daughters wrist, Yanking her close to her [F/N] let out a curse under her breath.

"What? Can't I check out the crime scene?" [F/N] remarked with a practiced incredulous tone. Ignorant curiosity, It wasn't the reason she came here for but her mother didn't need to know that.

Her mother looked back at her, Incredulous, Just like [F/N]'s voice. However it was mixed with contorted expression of how one might look at spoiled food, Maggots and rodents already festering and all.

"..Do you even listen to what comes out of your mouth? At any point in your life do you even think about what you're about to do?" Her mother said, Only a single pitch away from a whisper.

"Either way it wasn't why I was here, I was talking to that man over there." [F/N] said, Lazily motioning her head under the hat towards the entrance of the house. Her mother quickly strode away from her daughter, But made the move to grab her wrist and drag her along as she went towards the entrance of the house.

"Hey! Hands off me-" [F/N] yelled. Despite her mothers old bones it seemed the sheer anger made her completely apathetic to her age.

"What man? There's no one there." Her mother hissed. Pushing her daughter in front of her to get a better look at the house.

It was true. Apart from the dried carnage and the destroyed insides of the Livingroom there was no sign of life inside. No noise nor presence to be found.

[F/N] felt her heart stop inside her chest, Her breath stifled. That was impossible, The only entrance inside the house was the main door. If he had left through the main door then there would of been no doubt that he would of been spotted.

"Good gods, [F/N].." Her mother groaned, Massaging her temple to soothe her irritation.

"He was here! I swear, I don't know wher-"

"Oh just be quiet, [F/N]!" Her mother exclaimed.

Turning to face her daughter she jumped back in surprise, The look on her mothers worn face was tired and so very angry.

"I'm so done with just letting you run about and do as you please, Someone needs to give you discipline to show you how things work around here" Her mother said lowly.

Yanking [F/N] forward they took off away from the scene. [F/N] couldn't keep up with her fast pace and stumbled around as she was pulled along in her mothers grip.

They passed Juro who didn't even turn his head towards her families squabble, Only side-eyeing [F/N] as they passed.

Juro, That bastard, An Ironic insult but it was the best she could mouth at him as she was dragged by. He was the one who had alerted his mother to her absence, He had to be. Mother wouldn't care if she had wandered off, Juro on the other hand would pick out any opportunity he could to ruin her day.

As she was dragged back to their family home she cursed him out under her breath. [F/N] would've wondered why he was like this to her, But she knew that there was never a reason apart from stigma with a streak of sadism and superiority.

She'd get back at him one day. That, She swore.

☆♡☆

Loud footsteps slammed against the wooden floorboards of the house making louds creaks in their wake.

Opening and slamming the door it shook the frame of her room with the sheer force at which it hit.

As soon as it shut [F/N] pushed herself up against the door and let out a loud cry. The tears she was holding back with a fierce determination now flooded down her face without a hint of resistance.

She slowly slid down the door until it was only her, Sitting on the cold floorboards pressed up against the door, Sobbing her eyes out.

[F/N] didn't know why she was crying, Maybe it was just the broken dam of a slowly rising tide. The house of cards that finally toppled once the slightest of disruptions knocked over its foundation, Causing the entire building to fall down.

What she did know however, Is the words of which her mother had told her.

"Punishment!" "Deserve!" "Finally!"

The words her mother had used when she confiscated her parasols and uchikatsugi swarmed her like a hive of insects. The one thing that protected her from the sun, That let her feel like a normal person even if only for a single minute was taken away by her mother.

She had called it a deserving punishment, Finally giving her daughter the discipline she needed.

What would she even achieve from taking them away? To teach her a lesson, Perhaps. Maybe she had thought it would exorcise the demon that was disguised as her daughter. Even if she did think that before, After seeing the sunburn ingrained onto her skin gave her a good reminder alright.

[F/N]'s breath came out in hitches. Rapid gasps for breaths as she desperately tried to wipe away the unforgiving tears coming out of her eyes. Everyone kept asking what was wrong with her when the only thing she could ask was what was wrong with them.

She didn't choose to be like this. She didn't choose the red bloodshot eyes nor did she choose the bright white of her hair and skin, It didn't mean she was a demon. What was wrong with this world? What did she do to deserve this?

[F/N] lifted her head to wipe away the build up of fluid on her face when she caught the vivid red in the corner of her eye.

It made her breath hitch once more, But not from the pain in her lungs or the sting in her eyes.

[F/N] didn't even bother getting up, Instead favouring to hastily crawl over to her bed. Once she lifted her upper body to see what it was her eyes widened.

It was another bouquet, Just as beautiful as the last. The red petals of rose were fresh and smelt as such, Purifying the air around her and drawing her in with the sweet scent. The colour of the roses seemed to give a hot kick compared to the coldness of her abode.

It was that feeling again. Fireworks. The feeling that brought the warmth back to her, The one she could never describe.

[F/N] took the bouquet into her arms, The softness of both the petals and the trimmed stems caressed her bare skin.

Her lips twitched. The corners of her mouth turning themselves into a new smile, Feeling foreign on her face. There was no letter this time, However that didn't matter.

The bouquet said everything it needed to. She pulled it close as the last of her tears dried, Turning only into small sniffles now and then.

Maybe things weren't so awful after all.

☆♡☆

In the following months, Slowly, A routine started to form.

[F/N] wasn't allowed to go outside of her house, So she had to make do with what she had inside her room.

In the mornings she'd wake up, Make her bed and get ready for the day. Afterwards she would go downstairs to collect her breakfast and make her way back to her room.

Then in the afternoons she'd make herself busy by playing solo games of old sets in her room: Shogi, Menko or Origami, Anything to keep her occupied and keep the boredom at bay.

[F/N] knew if she just apologised and promised to her mother she'd be good she could definetly worm her way out of punishment, However she decided against it. Her pride and dignity was worth baring a stupid little punishment from her mother.

At night she would get her dinner from the kitchens and make her way up to the rooftops again, Speaking to the moon as her only social output as long as you don't count the snide comments from Juro or the single syllable answers from her mother.

For hours she'd just spout out about whatever came to mind. Her day, Frustrations and desires would all be entrusted to the celestial body, A silent promise not to tell between the two.

[F/N] thought it was funny, She'd started to believe the moon could really hear her. It felt like that too sometimes, That someone was really there to listen to her.

And finally, Careful not to make her mistake again she'd close the blinds and make her way to bed. Only to start the cycle all over again the next day.

Though sometimes the cycle would break, Sometimes she would find another bouquet. Lying on the roof or sat tidy on her bed.

Sometimes the person in question would leave a letter too. The sweet words seeming sacred as the flow of the writing went through her, Touching the very core of her heart.

She'd soak up every letter, Every little word she'd mull over for hours at a time letting that feeling coarse through her blood stream. These letters appeared about once a week, Quickly becoming the only thing she had to look forward to.

It was good, It was very good. It hit her one day, Lying in bed while rereading the latest letter for the fifth time.

Was this love?

Maybe. Before the letter had started she had dismissed the concept of it entirely, Love was just a façade. A husband and wife was suppose to love each other yet her mother and father barely spoke when they were around.

A sibling was suppose to love their other siblings unconditionally, But instead hers had shunned her and at best gave backhanded remarks. Sure, Her mother might of loved her kids but even then it was just maternal instinct.

Love was just a construct, That was her belief. It was a way to explain how things worked in a mysterious world, It didn't actually exist. No, It couldn't. At least not for her.

But when she held the soft paper in her hands and finished the last letter of the note it finally clicked, This was love. It had to be.

The undying passion written in the letters proved it, The vowing to love her always said it. It made her blush like an alcoholic intoxicated onto the feeling it gave her.

It was so addicting that she never really took care into asking herself how they got into her room or onto her roof, How they knew exactly what she liked or how she wanted it. That wasn't important.

What was important was who it was. Was it a girl or a boy? How old are they? What do they look like? What's their name? She pondered over this often and to be honest, She couldn't care less about who it was. They loved her, That's all that mattered. It was the spark of light in a dark hopeless void.

Even the rocks thrown through her balcony window, Scribbled in ink with the word "demon" couldn't take her out of her high. Nor the continuing mutilations building up a body count in town could catch her now.

Nowadays the entire family was counting down for the arrival of her father. His business trip had came to an end and now he was making his way home, Due to arrive in a week.

In a weeks time her father would be home, She dreaded the thought. So that's why she had carefully wrote a letter of her own and left it on the rooftop, A common spot for the person in question to leave their letters.

She wrote every letter with passion and folded the envelope with care, Waiting for the response she had went back to bed, Waiting for her admirer to take her away.

"When can I see you? I want to know who you are."

☆♡☆

Her letter had been answered.

The letter she had left on the roof was replaced with a letter of their own. The next day she had found it lying in the same spot, Bouquet of roses and all.

She read the words several times over, Just to make sure she was reading things right.

Midnight, Meet me outside on the pathway to the village. I'll be waiting.

Love, Your admirer.

They wanted to meet her, Her admirer wanted to meet her tonight. As soon as she read the last word she squealed like a little girl on her birthday and spun herself around the room with exhilarant joy.

She stopped dead in her tracks. She needed to get ready. Looking down at her morning kimono she realised she needed to wear her best, She couldn't go out looking like this.

The feeling of wanting to look your best while in front of someone was another new sensation, She'd been having a lot of new sensations lately. All because of her admirer. It was only right to look as good as she could.

She thought back to her experience a few months ago, That man, Tsukihiko. Maybe he was her admirer. The way he looked at her with those matching red eyes just spoke to her, It had to be him. Who else could it be?

Sifting through her closet she finally picked out a rather expensive kimono with a matching yukata. The design's laced onto the fabric were beautiful and made with care, When [F/N] looked at it she knew she had found the perfect one.

But looking in the mirror she knew her hair needed some touching up, Her makeup too.. And her nails and maybe she could find a cute hairpin? Maybe her hair needs touching up again..

By the time she was done it the sun had long set, Replacing the clear blue with a star filled winter night.

[F/N] knew she wasn't allowed out of the house, She knew when she carefully maneuvered her way down the rooftop. It never left her mind even soon as she felt her best sandals hit the ground, But nor did it ever matter to her. She was going to meet her admirer, That was much more important than her mother.

[F/N] moved hastily down the pathway from her house to the village, The letter never specified where about on the pathway they were to meet so she had just decided to walk until something happened.

She slowed down in her tracks to only a leisurely walk. The cold air hit the back of her neck and ran through her hair as she went. [F/N] felt her heart beating like a drum, The rhythm thumping at her ribcage felt like it was going to explode from her chest.

Her leisured stroll came to a stop, By now she could see the village lights and the rest of the stone-lined path. Her eyes followed it all the way back to where she was standing, No one was there. Not Tsukihiko, Not anyone.

[F/N]'s face scrunched up in confusion, She had went the entire pathway and no one was to be found. Could she be late? Looking up at the sky to see the moon dead-centre in the sky that ruled out the possibility entirely.

Then suddenly, She felt a rock hit her back.

The force pushed her over, Collapsing to the ground on her knee's.

The shock struck her like an ice-pick to the back, Causing a cold chill to wash over her. As soon as it hit her thoughts had came to a standstill, Trying to compute what just happened.

A few pairs of footsteps came running out from behind her.

[F/N] looked behind her, Eyes bloodshot and open to their limits as she finally spied the group.

"There! Told you she'd come." Juro laughed to the group of kids behind him, His friends, All carrying pouches of unknown fillings. They all looked down at [F/N], Their expressions all smiling wide and giggling along quietly to Juro.

Another feeling washed over, Anger only an aftertaste to the pain writhing around in her chest. Her arms shook as she tried to gather her Barings, However another quick jolt of pain went to her stomach. One of his friends who she recognised as the Furukawa boy had kicked her, Making her fall down again.

"Demon scum!" He exclaimed as he stepped back towards the group. [F/N] groaned in pain as she wiped away the red specks coming from her mouth.

"What.. What the fuck. The hell.. Are you doing here, Juro" [F/N] hissed, The truth of the situation going straight over her head.

"What? You don't remember? Meet me here at midnight on the pathway to the village!" He teased, The mocking tone in his voice made his group laugh. Juro looked at her straight in the eyes, The sadism shining through the dull overlay.

[F/N] stopped, Going completely still.

No, It couldn't be. Please, For the love of whatever god is up there. It can't be.

"You.. It was you?" She breathed lowly, Disbelieving eyes piercing into his. Pleading with him silently, Subconciously. Juro seemed to toss his head to the side and took a few lazy steps towards her, He had no care in the world as he stood only a foot away from his defeated sister.

"Of course it was me. I knew all about your little rooftop talks, I was the one to leave the bouquets in the first place." He announced it as if it was obvious all along, As if it was nothing but a throwaway joke in a play.

[F/N] felt her heart break.

She felt the culmination of that feeling built up over months, The growing flutter of her heart. The feeling she had even dared to consider love was shattered into a million pieces, Reduced to nothing but ashes.

This wasn't true, How could it be? It couldn't.. [F/N] felt her vision start to go blurry. She opened her dry mouth, She only had one question to ask.

"So.. For months.. You left me flowers.. Letters. All so you could bring me out here..?" She whispered. The blurryness in her eyes gathered and dripped down her face, Cold against her burning face.

"Well I mean, Not at first. In the beginning it was just a way to mess with you, It was funny for me but then.." Juro motioned over to his friends "When I told my friends about it we thought it was an opportunity we couldn't lose, Especially when you left a letter of your own." He finished.

The words devastated [F/N]. The entire world around her seemed so desolate, Like she drowning under the weight of the entire ocean unable to breathe or speak.

She didn't even flinch when Juro and his group raised their hands, The pouches full of unknown contents brought high. And when they threw it, She was glad that her tears blurred their faces.

She curled up into a ball and wished for this nightmare to be over.

☆♡☆

The dragging of slow footsteps echoed lowly in the dark hallway. The passage was dark and near lifeless as most of the house was asleep at this point, Only a few servants lay awake finishing their nightly duties.

[F/N]'s feet barely left the ground as she clutched the hot cup of tea in her hands. In the days that passed it was the only thing she subsided on except from the small bites of food she would eat during the day.

Her eyes seemed low and sunken, Like they were struggling to stay open. Along with her matted hair and chapped lips she appeared dishevelled similar to how an insomniac running on coffee would be, Though at this point that was basically what she became.

Gently pulling open the door to her bedroom [F/N] took a few short steps inside. Once she closed the door she was greeted once again by the emptiness of her room.

She let out a defeated sigh. Trotting over to her bed she set her tea down on the side table, Right before collapsing right onto the bed.

She sunk down into the mattress, Letting the temporary warmth and shelter of the blankets envelop her.

[F/N] was tired, Very tired. Right then and there she wanted to close her eyes and not wake up, Not for a long time. But she knew that no matter how hard she tried she wouldn't be able to sleep, Not as long as her mind was as conflicted as hers.

She turned over onto her back so she could stare up at the ceiling. Before all of this had happened she felt angry or annoyed, Always, There was no in-between. Maybe a splash of surprise here and there but apart from that there was no flux.

After she read the letters her palette had expanded, It felt like she was tasting a new wild variety of flavours for the first time after only eating bread for her entire life. She felt euphoric, She felt love and infatuation. It was good, It was so good.

But now after being hazed with flour and hit with rocks, Humiliated and embarrassed by Juro and his gang she just felt.. Nothing.

She wasn't angry nor was she annoyed, She's tried to feel those things, She tried to feel some sort of rage towards him but after everything she just couldn't.

Juro had even left an extra bouquet for when she got back that night, This one not of roses but instead spider lilies.

The only thing she could do was toss them out from the balcony, The flowers taking all of her anger with it.

[F/N] turned her head over to her balcony. The blinds were shut over the doors yet there was a small opening, A little crack that let moonlight filter through into the room. She could see the moon facing her through the opening, Gathering up what she had left she opened her mouth.

"Is this it..? Is this all there will ever be to my life..?" She whispered, Looking at the moon as her only friend.

She waited. She waited a good few minutes, Waiting for any kind of response from her oldest companion.

Yet nothing came. The moon just looked down on her, Just like they did, Just like they all did.

[F/N] huffed lightly, Turning away from the moon. It was stupid. She grew up to believe that the moon was always there for her, That it would always listen to her. It was her friend.

She knew how stupid that was now. The moon wasn't her friend, It couldn't listen to her. All this time she spoke to an unfeeling object, Something that couldn't understand her or provide any comfort.

"Is this all there will ever be to my life"

Her words rang out in her head. At every turn she was dejected back down into the dirt. While the healthy ran outside to live their life she was stuck at home, Unable to get a job or a husband due to her looks.

She hated them, If she had anything else left to feel it was hatred. They lived their lives free to do anything they wanted yet they wasted it on mundane jobs, Mundane lives while she was left here to fester.

[F/N] closed her eyes. Listening to the servant outside brush the hallways, She tried to use it as white noise. Something to fa-

THUMP!

[F/N] opened her eyes slowly.

The wall to her room that was shared with the hallway suddenly let out a large thump. Coincidentally the sounds of sweeping came to an abrupt stop right before the noise.

Everything was silent now, There was no noise coming from outside nor from [F/N]. Instead she just watched the door, Waiting for the next sign of life.

Another set of footsteps came, Not belonging to the servant before. These ones were heavier, Filled with purpose and stride.

She listened as they reached her door, Coming to a sudden stop in front of it. [F/N] listened half-heartedly along, Waiting for the next sound.

It came. The slow but loud creaking of the door echoed from the walls in her room. She didn't dare to look up into the dark void of the doorway, She knew what was happening. She knew what was going to happen. This was the demon who caused the villages mutilations, There was only one outcome.

The footsteps entered the room. From [F/N]'s limited vision she could only see what looked to be a mans body dressed in a suit jacket and blouse, The left arm stained with a fresh crimson. Her eyes moved up, She couldn't see his face however, The moonlight didn't reveal it.

[F/N] sighed, Maybe out of exhaustion or maybe out of relief.

"So it's you, You're the one whose been doing the mutilations I suppose.. I'm guessing you got to the servant outside right?" She drawled, Letting the syllables play out on her tongue.

The man didn't answer, He only stopped in his tracks. [F/N] could feel his eyes on her, Running over her body, Like a wolf checking to see if the fox could fit in its maws.

[F/N] didn't expect an answer, But she continued anyways.

"You're going to kill me now, Probably even before I've finished my sentence but just.. Just let me make one final request.." A sudden jolt came from inside her like the final remains of lighter fluid sparking out into the raging blizzard.

It felt like vengeance, If she was going down then she knew who was coming with her.

"I don't care if you kill me.. But when you do I want you to take my family too. I don't care how you do it but I want you to make it bloody, I want you to make sure that my father comes home to a slaughter house, I want you to make sure people remember this." She said, The liquid in the lighter drying with her words.

She closed her eyes, Waiting on her bound demise.

This was it. Her body relaxed to take in her final moments. The warmth of the blanket, The coldness of her room, The beating of her heart.

"Who said I would kill you.."

And the feeling of a hand over hers, Gripping it tight.

Her eyes opened wide at the voice, Her irises searched and landed on the mans face now illuminated by the moonlight, It was one she recognised.

"It's you.." [F/N] breathed, She looked over the mans features, Just to make sure.

"Tsukihiko" She whispered. It was him, She saw it now. It was the same suit-jacket, The same styled hair and red eyes. A gentle smile graced his face as he moved even closer than he was currently.

"Even though I may have told you so, Tsukihiko isn't my real name." He corrected. That same deep tone of voice he used all those months ago laced his voice, Resonating deep inside her.

"My name is Muzan Kibutsuji, I am the progenitor of all demons." He declared softly. The hand he had entwined with hers squeezed tighter. His hand wasn't warm, It was in fact cold to the touch but it didn't feel uncomfortable, It was instead akin to shaved ice during a heatwave.

The progenitor of all demons, This was the demon king. It raised more questions than answers but [F/N] could only ask a single one.

"Then, why won't you kill me? Why are you telling me all of this?" She whispered, Looking deep into his eyes for the answer.

He only looked back with the most sincere emotion a being like him could have.

"Because, It seems I've become infatuated with you."

The words left his lips with a finality, As if he was just as bewildered as she was looking into his eyes.

The words pierced her like a spear. [F/N] felt eyes expand and her jaw opening only a little. It was that feeling again, That same feeling, The fireworks.

"..How can I trust your words? How do I know you're not lying to me?" She asked, A small treble in her voice. How could she trust anything he said, Not when she could never trust anything anyone said to her.

"You can't trust me." Muzan finalised, Agreeing with her words. She felt disappointment start to bubble up in her before her spoke one more.

"But when I say that I have became smitten over you from the day I saw you on that roof top, When I say that I became enraptured by your beauty and charm I want you to believe that, My love." He spoke.

[F/N] was speechless, She couldn't believe what she was hearing but by the gods did she want to. Heat rose to her cheeks and she stumbled to get out a single vowel before she was pulled to her feet by Muzan.

"Everything I've been doing these past few months I've done for you, Everything. You are more than a mere human, You're someone I can call my equal" He whispered. And from his suit pocket he pulled out something that gleamed in the moonlight.

It was a ring of silver, A wedding ring. It was beautiful. A sapphire center piece for the gemstone, Crowned by the silver and another dozen gems surrounding it.

[F/N]'s breath hitched at the sight of it.

"You want me… To marry you?" She asked, The words foreign on her tongue. [F/N] still stood in disbelief, Shock, A flurry of new emotions invading her senses that made her need to conceal an excited grin.

"Yes. I see no one else worthy of being called my wife, Only you." He replied. Gentle smile still painted on his face.

The fireworks went off. In that moment, [F/N] knew the answer, One that she couldn't put into words but instead an action.

As soon as the fireworks exploded she took a step forward, Putting her lips on his and bringing Muzan into a deep kiss. Trying her best to make it as passionate as possible with her inexperience.

Muzan didn't resist, But instead seemed to expect it. He put an arm around her waist and took lead, Guiding her along.

As it happened she felt their bodies collide, His arms were wrapped around her body tightly while hers rested on his shoulders in the heat of the moment.

[F/N] barely noticed the ring slip onto her finger, A perfect fit. She could only focus on their lips mingling with each other, His fangs clashing against her bottom lip while she tried to figure out what to do with her tongue.

Muzan's hand slipped down to her neck. A single claw cutting open both his finger and a small part of [F/N]'s neck, Letting his blood mix with hers.

The motion made [F/N] pull away from Muzan, The feeling of her stomach turning interrupting her.

"What the.." She mumbled. [F/N]'s body started to shake, She felt weird. Stumbling back a few feet she was caught by Muzan, Smiling at her with that same gentle look.

He set her down onto her bed, Caressing her cheek with care.

"Rest now, Your transformation should only take a few minutes." Muzan said, Sitting beside her on the bed.

[F/N] nodded, She knew what he meant and she simply didn't care. Only smiling lazily as she let her heart circulate his blood round her system. She felt him close her eyes. And let his blood take her over completely.

☆♡☆

[F/N] followed Muzan down the hallway. Her movements were slow yet jerky at the same time, Like her entire body was numb and barely woken up.

Her mind was hazy, Like a sudden mist started to fall over her mind as soon as she woke up. Her stomach turning had turned into a sudden emptiness, A sudden hunger. She had a craving for something, She didn't know what. However all she knew is that she had to follow Muzan as he helped her down the stairs.

As soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs onto the second floor, Suddenly she caught something sweet in the air, Enticing her on.

Muzan noticed this, An almost amused smile appeared on his face.

"Go on then, I won't stop you." He said, And that was all she needed.

[F/N] took off following the scent almost feverishly, Making her way down the hallways going around turns she finally came across a door.

Her mouth watered. The scent was stronger now, Even more so as she bust open the door.

Juro woke up with a start, The noise of his door slamming open almost off the hinges made him flinch. He got up so he was now sitting on his bed. Maybe another mutilation happened, It was probably his mother informing him so.

But as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes to see his elder sister leaning against the doorway, He knew that wasn't the case.

"What the hell do you want..? You still mad about last week?" He chuckled lightly, The sleep still permeating his voice.

[F/N] stood in the doorway, Not answering. However her breathing was laboured and she stumbled about, Swaying side to side. Her head was lowered to the ground, Eyeing only the floorboards.

"What's wrong with you?" Juro raised an eyebrow at his sisters movements, It was getting annoying. Waking him up in the middle of the night and she wouldn't even tell him why.

But he suddenly froze once she lifted her head.

Her laboured breathing showed off her teeth, Sharper than normal creating new fangs protruding from her mouth. Her pupils had slimmed and turned into something similar to a cat's, And they were eyeing him like a piece of raw meat.

His sweat dropped, This wasn't normal. Slowly getting out of his bed he made sure to never take his eyes off of her, To make sure she didn't pounce.

"Listen.. [F/N]." He started, His voice shaky and carefully planned.

"I-I'm sorry for what I did.. Okay? I-I shouldn't of treated you like that.. It was wrong, I.. I'm so sorry okay?" He started. His entire form shook, His knees threatening to buckle under the weight of the situation.

She took a step forward, Making him flinch.

"I-I'm sorry! Please don-"

[F/N] lunged forward, Her body knocking into his as they fell to the floor with a thump!

Juro screamed, Loud and high pitched to make sure the rest of the house woke up as he felt [F/N]'s teeth lodge into his neck.

With a tug she pulled her mouth back. A chunk of flesh and muscle tore out from his neck, Making a spray of blood coat the room and [F/N] entirely painting her red.

Juro sobbed. His mental state reducing into that of a child's as he felt his sisters teeth tear at his flesh, Only to greedily shove the meat down her gullet, Pleased at the sweet taste she licked her lips to Juro's horror.

She tore into him, Again and again. Juro felt his limbs be pulled from their sockets and the blood burst from his arteries, Popping like candy and spraying all over the room.

He was barely conscious when the cold sweat of death wash over him.

The last thing he saw was the looming figure of his sister. His severed arm in her mouth and covered in red. Smiling at him, Wide and proud.

And the oncoming figures of the rest of his family in the doorway.

☆♡☆

Downstairs Muzan stood idly in the main room.

He waited for her, Listening intently to the noise thrashing around upstairs. He decided it was best to let [F/N] take care of it herself, She was hungry after all and as a new demon she needed her strength.

However, Muzan's attention was drawn to the main door, Which was flung open letting the cold nights air flood inside.

In the doorway was an older man. A katana around his waist and a yukata over his slayer uniform. Muzan felt the grin tug at his lips, This must of been [F/N]'s father, A slayer at that.

"..Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?!" He exclaimed, Yet his tone contained exhaustion, Obviously tired from a long travel.

"Who am I? I assumed you slayers would know a king when they saw one." Muzan remarked.

The mans eyes widened. The tiredness in his eyes before was now long gone and by now his sword was drawn, Pointing straight at Muzan.

"You.. Muzan Kibutsuji" He said. Despite his brave front, Muzan could see through it. He was terrified.

"There it is.." Muzan drawled, Now turning his full body over towards him. Her father made no move to attack him, Only keeping his sword at head level waiting for Muzan's next move.

"What.. What have you done with my wife, My children." Her father asked, The thought tearing through his mind, Scared of the possibilities.

Muzan entertained him, The fact that he had the guts to speak out in the first place spoke volumes.

But before he could answer, The sound of creaking steps and dragging thumps sounded out behind them, Interrupting their conversation.

The mans attention flipped over behind him. Alternating between Muzan and the unknown threat they both watched intently as the presence reached the bottom of the steps.

The mans eyes widened.

At the bottom of the stairs stood [F/N], Drenched head to toe in blood smelling of brass and iron.

But what she held in both hands, That's what made her father fall to his knees.

In both of her hands she dragged the mangled corpses of his wife and kids, [F/N]'s new strength granting her the capability to do so.

In her right held his wife, The corpse had several parts missing. Limbs, Flesh and organs all in various states of degradation.

In her left was the corpse of his second eldest. He wasn't even recognisable, Only the yukata being of any hint to his identity.

He fell to his knees, The sight seeming to defeat him entirely.

His nichirin katana fell out of his grasp, Slipping out with ease once he laid his hands on the corpses. [F/N] watched on at the scene, Gazing down at the broken mess of a man.

"What the.. No.. No this couldn't.." He choked out, Tears starting to form in his eyes and flow down his face. His wife and kids dead, He wasn't here to protect them, To do his duties as a demon slayer.

He moved his eyes up to the face of the culprit, Recognising her as his eldest disappointment of a daughter.

"You.. You monster.." He whispered, Piercing gaze going right through her like an icepick to the heart.

But [F/N] felt nothing as she looked at him, The haze from her mind lifted long ago at the first taste of her meal. This man for her entire life had been a overhanging figure, A threat to what would happen to her if she stepped out of line. His words were nothing new to her ears.

"..Do you have nothing else to call me, Or are you done?" [F/N] asked. She felt the rush of superiority come over her, She was the one in charge now. Not him.

Her father swallowed the lump in his throat. He had nothing else to say, Only choked sobs came out of his mouth.

[F/N] dropped the cadavers in her arms in favour of walking up to her father. Slowly stopping in front of him, Looking down at his weakened form.

Muzan stood only a few feet away from him, Watching over the events unfolding. He was amused at it, Watching [F/N]'s every move.

She raised her hand high, Her new claws spiking out of her fingernails ready to strike.

All these years of torment, Dejection and disgust funnelled towards her. The harassment and hate. Everything she had been through came down to this.

"Go on, My love." Muzan's voice called out, [F/N] glanced over to him "Finish this."

Muzan Kibutsuji, Her fiancée, Her stalker. He called out to her with that eternally caring voice, That same gentle smile edging her on to finish the deed.

She looked back at him and smiled.

And with a quick slash it was finished, Her father was no more.

His severed head dropped onto the tatami mat, She watched as it bounced a few times before rolling away.

Muzan appeared behind her, Wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You did such a good job, My love." He stated, Kissing the back of her head as he pulled her closer. [F/N] sunk into his hold, The coldness a comfort to her.

"T-Thanks.." She grinned, Fireworks continuing to go off. More so once he move a hand to her legs, Manoeuvring her so she was now being carried bridal style by her now fiancée, Not caring how much blood stained his blouse.

Muzan leaned down and left a small kiss on her lips, To which she returned.

"Are you ready to go now, My love?" Muzan asked.

"Always." [F/N] responded, Stars in her eyes.

Muzan smiled, Pulling her close. He looked up and with the single strum of a biwa, He disappeared into the night, Taking [F/N] with him.

Never to be seen again.

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kneesocksgirlie · 2 years

Text

My blood is red and unafraid of living

Beginning to end …

#mitski #liquid smooth #i feel deranged #femcel #tumblrgrunge #female manipulator #female hysteria #dark coquette #bloodbath #black swan #fiona apple #lana del rey

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juniperberryjuice · 1 month

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My blood is red and unafraid of living Beginning to end

#art #artists on tumblr #digital artist #digital art #f&h samarie #samarie fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #fear and hunger fanart #fear & hunger #fear and hunger #samarie #artist #artwork #artist on tumblr #small artist #junibers art

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charnelhouse · 2 years

Text

mausoleum (2)

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (other pairings later) Wordcount: 4.5K Warnings: gore. ptsd. references to captivity and torture. implied cannibalism. implied sex. there are mentions of hair. blood transfusion. needles. Summary: Red is grievously injured. 141 races against the clock to save her. A/N: Many thanks to @sprout-fics and @moondirti for reading through this because my damn eyes were crossing. Also, huge thanks to @ghostaholics who helped me with all the blood transfusion nonsense and ghost thots in general

Chapter 1

The rain continued to pour down with a violence. The pharmacy was cold-the kind of cold that was trapped in the linoleum and sunk into Price’s skin. Red’s hair had fallen out of its binding-spreading across the dirty floor. The blood was syrupy and dark as mud. Her eyelids hung heavy; her lips parted around uneven breaths. As if time had shifted, Price was suddenly seeing something else: Red Fox lying on that metal table in Kursk, her wrists bone-thin and strapped down. Her face so swollen it was nearly unrecognizable.

It had only been a month. How could they have done the damage they’d done in a single month?

But Price wasn’t an idiot, and he hadn't been an idiot then. He knew their enemies would have seen Red as something worth destroying. The sounds the men of 141 had made at the sight of her would never quite leave him. Incredulity. Shock. Rage. A wellspring of sadness had taken up residence within their circle. Red had been precious to them. Perhaps it was unfair to say that, but it was true. Regardless of what her and Simon had been, she’d also embedded herself into each of their lives and refused to move. She fought well. She survived better.

Having to witness her be completely broken had destabilized them. It was as if the sky had cracked and fallen. The stars had collapsed against them and they could not push them back up.

Now, she had been nearly killed again.

Soap’s low cursing brought him back to the present. Johnny was hovering over her still form, his fingers gently pulling at the blood-drenched scarf Ghost had wrapped around her shoulder.

She was conscious, but her coloring was worrisome. Soap worked on her vitals, revealing a penlight from his vest to check her eyes. The backdoor to the pharmacy jingled and Ghost whirled around, gun aimed. It was only Gaz.

“They had nothing,” he said, stalking down the aisle. “Guns had no bullets so it was all for show.”

Price rubbed his jaw, feeling the tender hump of a bruise from a hit he’d taken outside. Cannibals. He hadn’t been surprised, though he felt like it was too soon for that level of desperation. They were probably the individuals who’d always wanted to-unafraid to commit something that barbaric when cans of food remained on the shelves. He’d seen men like that, especially in the military. They were the ones who signed up because they wanted a license to kill.

He glanced to his left where Red’s attacker lay, his head twisted at the wrong angle.

Good riddance.

If they hadn’t gotten here sooner…fuck. He didn’t want to think of that. She’d certainly been through enough with Kursk only a year or so before. Truthfully, it felt somewhat cosmic. Price was a logical man. He believed in what he could see, taste and feel. But after the outbreak, he had lost contact with his reason.

Today had been lucky.

“Christ!” Gaz exclaimed once he spotted Red on the floor. “She alright?”

“Obviously,” Red replied before Price could. The words were faint, whistling past her lips. “Hi, Kyle.”

“Hey, darling.” Gaz’s eyes swung to Price. His expression worried.

“Captain,” Soap murmured, turning to look up at him. The “captain” had stayed though Price had told them that they were all on equal footing. He supposed it was easier for them to remain in their positions. It allowed order. Familiarity.

The fact was that there were no clear plans left. There were no predictable outcomes. Everything was belly-up, ass backwards. Fucked beyond comprehension. It made his teeth itch and his chest hurt.

“What is it?” Ghost asked, striding past Price and crouching down beside Red. His gravelly voice was cut with a vulnerability he didn’t bother hiding. Ever since Red had been placed on leave, Ghost wasn’t himself. He’d been less cautious and more aloof if that was possible. He took mission after mission and then hid away in his room. Price watched as Ghost’s hand automatically went to her shoulder, his thumb finding her jaw to stroke it briefly before he moved it away. Another memory from Kursk shuddered through Price’s head.

“You know what they fucking did to her,” Ghost choked out. He was losing it, completely falling apart. “You saw the reports. What the doctor said. What she said. She fucking remembers everything and-and I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You know it is. If I hadn’t run…fuckin’ hell…if I hadn’t run…” Ghost couldn’t finish the sentence.

”I can patch it for now,” Soap explained. “But I need more supplies. We’re runnin’ low.” He chewed his lip as he glanced down at the black bag beside him. “Everything is soaked in rain water and mud. I’m nervous she’ll get an infection.”

Red suddenly lifted her head, fingers twitching against her stomach. “House,” she rasped, lashes fluttering. She coughed and Ghost wordlessly curled his arm around her shoulders before subtly maneuvering himself behind her so that she could rest against his chest. It was an intimate move. She was a little thing and Ghost was unnaturally tall and broad. With her collapsed against him, it emphasized how Ghost dwarfed her in every way. They fit well together.

“What’d you say, love?” Soap urged, nudging her hair away from her face. “Your house?”

She nodded weakly before looking at Price. It took her a worrisome amount of effort to move her eyes. “Up the road. We-we have supplies…Price knows where it is.”

“I do,” he confirmed. “Soap—bandage her shoulder and we’ll get her there.”

“Aye,” Soap said as he began to rummage through his bag. Abruptly, he stopped. “Did she say we?”

***

The rain spat at them while the dense mud packed their boots. Thank god for the road. Gaz sat on the horse with Red, his arms secure around her waist as she rested against his torso. They’d swamped her in their dirty, sweat-soaked jackets to keep her warm. Beneath her hood, the tip of her nose and strands of her hair were the only things visible.

The path was eerie, cloaked in a veil of mist and shadow. Price had seen the occasional body off to the side, rubbery limbs hidden in the grass or trees. He’d experienced a lot of fucking death in his life, but the kind he was witnessing daily made him prickle. It was wrong. You expect corpses on the battlefield, but not outside a quaint village and wearing giraffe-print galoshes.

They walked in a single file line. He took the front with Soap. Ghost at the rear, shadowing the horse holding Red and Gaz.

“So,” Soap began as he inched closer to Price. “Have you been to her home before?”

“No,” Price’s fingers itched for a cigarette. “She recently inherited it from her parents. Before she left, she gave me the address.”

“It’s big I presume?”

Price chuckled. “It’s got its own wikipedia page.”

They’d come here for a few reasons. One-he’d wanted to find Red. She was part of their group. She was his family. She was vital and he wouldn’t leave her out here. Truth be told, he’d been scared. He knew her mental state when she’d been put on leave. She was in perpetual rigor mortis—her mind completely brutalized from what had happened to her in Russia. Even he didn’t know everything they’d done to her, though he could guess from her medical records. When he’d sat beside her hospital bed, she’d been so raw that he’d been terrified to say the wrong thing. He’d attempted to be a physical presence, offering her quiet words of comfort, but then she had left. She’d been effectively kicked out and Price wished he’d done better by her.

It was why he’d been so adamant to find her.

The idea of Red in isolation as the world ended left him stricken. He’d called and called, attempted to find her on the radio, but had only been met with static.

The second reason was that he figured moving away from the cities and into farmland was their best option. Many of the great castles and estates had been running since the middle ages. They’d be ideal shelters when modern infrastructure ceased. No gas. No electricity. They’d go old school.

He hadn’t really asked for the other’s opinions when he’d made the plan. 141 had been forced to flee the barracks, seeking refuge in one of their previous safehouses outside Edinburgh. After he was unable to make contact with Red again, Price had walked into the room, ready to declare the mission, but Ghost had beaten him to it.

“Red?” he’d asked, his mask pale in the dark. His head bent forward with his massive shoulders hunched. Ghost had been a fucking mess, forlorn and deeply angry.

That was all he had to say. Red. The rest didn't matter. Where else would we go? What else would we do? Because they couldn’t move forward without confirming if she was alive or dead.

“Yeah,” Price had replied. “We’re going to find her.”

We’re going to find our girl.

In the distance, Price could see the road split. The entrance to the estate was to the right. He could make out the looming iron gate. There was so much greenery, overwhelming foliage.

Before they’d left the pharmacy, Red had described the traps she’d set up around the property.

Be mindful of areas with too many leaves. Also, a bunch of trip wires. You’ll get your head shot off.

“God,” Soap drawled. “I missed you.”

“Such a sicko,” Gaz snickered, reaching out to take Red’s hand.

Slowly, but surely the enormous house came into view. You could only make out the tips of the estate's spires rising above the trees. Red’s family crest gleamed from the center of the gate’s bars.

Soap whistled. “That ‘duchess’ nickname was a little on the nose. Thought Simon came up with that.”

“He did, but I don’t think he really knew Red was-” He gestured vaguely in front of him. “-all this.”

“Captain!” Gaz shouted and Price whipped around, gun raised and ready. Even from a distance, it was apparent that Red had gone boneless, head lolling forward.

Simon was already beside the horse, his hands disappearing beneath Red’s hood to engulf her face and lift it up. Soap cursed and sprinted toward them.

“She wasn’t responding to me,” Gaz hissed, voice tense with unease. He grimaced as he lifted his arm to reveal the front of his shirt awash in blood. “I-I didn’t realize-everything’s fuckin’ soaked from the rain.”

“Open her jacket,” Soap ordered and Ghost ripped at the top of it, pulling it away from her body. Crimson sheeted down her chest, soiling her thin shirt. Ghost’s hands slipped from her arms to her cheeks, cupping them and incidentally smearing blood across her jaw and chin.

“Jesus fuck, Johnny!” Ghost’s tone was one Price had heard only a few times in his life. It was wrinkled with nervousness–unhinged fear. “Did you not wrap it right?”

“I did!” Soap sealed his hand to her shoulder, but it was impossible to see shit in the rain. “Could have nicked an artery and we just—just didn’t know.” She was ashen, a waxy sheen clinging to her pallor.

Price steeled himself. “How much can she lose?”

He wouldn’t crack. Not here. He couldn’t afford it when everything was already bad enough.

“Twenty to thirty-five percent?” Soap checked her pulse. “Her heart rate is accelerating.”

“God damn it,” Ghost growled, his eyes darting from her shoulder to her rapidly deteriorating color. “Red?” He shook her gently and her head lolled. She made a soft, whimpering noise before going quiet. “C’mon, Red—wake up for me.”

Her brow furrowed, her lids parting a crack before they shut again. Simon swallowed thickly, the muscles in his neck spasming. The hem of his black mask had ridden up to reveal blonde hair stained dark from rain and sweat.

“Simon–” Price tried before the larger man suddenly straightened, snapping to attention.

Wordlessly, Ghost repacked the sodden gauze into the wound and rewrapped her shoulder. He shoved his gun at Soap and lifted her clean off the horse. He maneuvered her into his arms, cradling against his chest.

“I can take her, Simon,” Gaz protested.

“No,” he replied flatly. “Have to avoid the trip wires and you can’t see shit from a horse.” He began to move toward the house. “Price-be my eyes here. Don’t want to get shot. Johnny–what do we need?”

He was holding her like she was a fragile egg, stalking towards the looming iron gate without jarring her. Soap and Price jogged after them.

“Needle, blood bag, a rubber tube,” he replied. The storm had picked up again and Price wondered if God was fucking with them. “A donor.”

“I’ll give it to her,” Ghost said without skipping a beat. “I’ve done it before…” he trailed off and the rain washed out the rest of his words.

***

Simon couldn’t think, at least not in a straight definitive line. Not good. He was capable of coldness on the field. He could patch one of his teammates up with one hand while shooting with the other.

But, Red? Different. So fucking different.

He’d broken the man’s neck in the pharmacy, but too little too late. She’d still been hit and she was now close to death. He rushed through the front gate, stepping over the wires that Red had described before she’d gone quiet. He should have been more aware. He should have been watching her the second she’d stopped speaking on that damn horse. It was torture as he attempted to race toward the front door of the estate while keeping her comfortable. He felt as if he was straddling a knife edge, kicking up gravel as rain water sluiced into his vision.

The air was frigid. The wind was biting at his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured through the wet seal of his mask. “You’ll be alright.”

Simon hauled ass up the stone steps just as Soap barreled past him to open the door. It was locked.

“Fuck,” Soap punched the wood before turning to Ghost. “We can break a window?”

“Ghost,” Gaz shouted–a warning.

Soap punched the door again, his knuckles splitting.

“Ghost!”

“What?” he roared, whirling around to find a woman aiming a gun at them that was far too big for her. She glared, long dark hair falling in limp strands around her face. She was dressed in only shorts and an oversized t-shirt. Her green rain boots were covered in mud.

“Who the fuck–” Her eyes fell to Red and she blanched, her mouth gaping in shock. “Oh my god!”

Soap stepped in front of Simon and Red. “Alright, lass-”

She lifted the gun higher. “What did you do to her, you fuckin’ assholes.”

Gaz slid around her, hands up.

“Nothin’,” Gaz defended, voice steady and calm. “Look–we’re friends of Red’s. She got attacked in the village and she’s bleedin’ out-”

“How do I know you didn’t do it yourself?” The girl's lip trembled. “You-you could be using her as bait and-”

“WE DON’T HAVE FUCKING TIME FOR THIS!” Ghost bellowed. The girl flinched and Gaz slipped between them. Always the voice of reason.

“She’s dying,” he explained. “Please let us in-”

Price appeared behind her and seamlessly snatched the gun from her hands. “Safety’s still on, love.”

Startled, she nearly stumbled backwards over the steps before Gaz grabbed her by the arms, tugged her to him, and locked her against his chest. “Will you open the door now?”

Simon was done. He felt real fear begin to pour out of him, his whole frame shivering with it. He was taking on water too fast. He was sinking. Rage. Terror. He could not accommodate them both. He glowered at the woman, vowing to kill her if Red died. “Open. The. Door.” His threat spurted between his clenched teeth. His tone was frigid-dark and unyielding.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay–Slim–Slim said never to open it for anyone even if-if-”

Gaz released her and when she stepped toward the door, Simon realized she was crying. The rain had disfigured her features.

“Just open the door, love,” Price murmured. He squeezed her shoulder and guided her closer. She winced when she brushed past Simon.

Visibly shaking, she pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked it.

***

It was utter chaos. They’d placed on the table, her injury no doubt staining the expensive wood. Simon scanned the kitchen and found it unadorned. It was all stone and wood, enormous and obviously meant to be utilized by an entire staff. He assumed that only the appliances had been updated, the rest was centuries old. He blew out a breath, feeling uneasy. The corners of the room were shadowed by the storm that howled outside. The windows provided little light and the woman-Bambi-was lighting several candles. Price and Gaz were searching for medical supplies in the storage closet across the room. Red had apparently invested in a plethora of equipment and tools long before the pandemonium had begun.

Good girl - Simon thought. Red had always been one to prepare rather than wait for the other shoe to drop.

“What happened?” Bamb was hovering beside the table, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. She looked dazed, eyes focusing on the crimson-drenched bandages at the base of Red’s neck. Soap removed a pair of scissors from his bag and began to cut through her shirt.

Bambi winced. “Oh-don’t-she doesn’t have many-”

“It’s fucked, lass,” Soap replied bluntly. “You should maybe sit in the next room.”

“I can handle it,” she returned with conviction. “I’ve…” she swallowed. “I’ve seen worse.”

Soap shrugged before removing the bandages. Heart thundering in his chest, Simon watched as Red’s blood spilled in rivers, pooling beneath her. Immediately, he flattened his palms to the wound.

“Steamin’ Christ,” Soap rumbled before yelling at Gaz to bring him more gauze. He turned to Bambi. “You have small hands.” He gestured to the large first-aid kit on the table. “Find the sewing kit, clean and thread a needle for me.”

There was red up to his elbows, everything drenched and slippery. The room stank of pennies. Tasted like he’d licked a metal instrument. Blood had never bothered Simon before, but he was beginning to feel lightheaded. That’s fear.

“She’ll be alright,” Soap muttered, glancing momentarily at Simon before focusing on Red’s face. “She’s survived worse, yeah?”

Simon steeled himself, aware that he couldn’t lose his head here. It was bad. Her coloring was frightening and how could they have been so stupid to not have realized she’d been fading out?

“Foolish girl.” Simon grunted as a deep, unsettling frustration began to simmer beneath his skin. Typical Red. Fucking martyr. Probably, felt herself losing consciousness, but didn’t want to be a bother.

Anger was an easier emotion to carry. Anger had been the feeling he’d harbored when she’d told him about her condition right before Kursk. He’d run away from her. He’d been an immature fucking child and left her. He’d been inexplicably pissed at her and for what? Something totally out of her control. A complete accident that they were both responsible for.

“We can figure this out, Simon,” she’d told him. “We don’t have to make any rash decisions. We don’t-we don’t even have to go through with it.”

“I-I just need some time,” he’d said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back and we can-we’ll talk.”

He’d gone on a mission. Left her. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days, but she’d been so upset and desperate for her own distraction that she’d taken on a mission herself. A simple recon assignment.

He had never forgiven himself when she didn’t come home.

“Simon,” Price had said, meeting him the second he’d stepped off the helicopter. “Simon-”

His stomach had dropped. He’d known it was about her by the look on Price’s face.

“Where is she?” he’d growled and Price’s expression dismantled into something distressed.

“We don’t know,” he replied. “There was an explosion. She got separated.We-we think the Kursk faction took her.”

Next to Red, Price had always been Simon’s anchor in certain situations. He was reliable and he withstood every horrible disaster thrown at him. But when Red had been taken prisoner, the Captain had been visibly shaken.

“Alright-shit’s about to get really messy,” Soap said as he yanked on a pair of latex gloves.

“Here!” Bambi passed Soap the threaded needle. Soap had become the resident medic only because he had nimblest hands from dismantling bombs. He’d also picked up quite alot when he’d been fucking one of the nurses a few years back.

“Hopefully she doesn’t feel this,” Soap murmured before he poured rubbing alcohol over the angry slit.

Red’s eyes flew open, mouth slanting into a gasp. She twitched and moaned before attempting to shove Soap away.

“Hold her, hold her,” Soap gritted. “I won’t be able to close it.”

Simon placed one hand on her uninjured shoulder and the other on her face. His palm encased it-spanning the entire side of her cheek and temple. Price appeared at the end of the table and held her legs down.

Simon said her name softly. Her real one. He said it the same way he used to say it when it was just them and the morning and her shitty narrow bed and they’d probably just had tender, desperate sex. Her eyes found his and Simon smiled before realizing she couldn’t see it due to his mask.

She hiccuped, her chest hitching. She was beginning to cry.

“She needs to calm down,” Price barked. “Simon-”

Fuck it.

Simon ripped off his mask and threw it somewhere. Even though all of his enemies were likely dead, the mask still served as a crutch. It was still his armor.

But Red needed him.

Simon readjusted his grip and lowered his face so that it hovered over her own. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he demanded. “Look at me.” She blinked at him rapidly before she seemed to focus. Her lips twitched into what could have been a smile. It broke something inside him.

“I’m here, alright,” he continued. “We’re all here. We’re just sewing you back up so we need you to relax.” The stench of blood and disinfectant wafted from the table. It stained his boots and hands. He drowned in it.

Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t understand what she was trying to say.

“Only a flesh wound, duchess.” His voice was dangerously close to cracking. He couldn’t find his direction. He couldn’t find much of anything when she looked so fragile.

It’s fine. We’re okay now. Out of the woods.

And then shit went south.

Red’s lashes fluttered, her eyes rolling back. Simon reached down to grip her wrist. “Her pulse is elevating, Johnny.”

Soap cursed.

“What’s happening?” Bambi asked. Simon took a deep breath in an effort to hold it together. He jammed his aching terror into his guts because he knew Red needed him strong. She needed him to be solid and dependable.

“She’s going into shock,” Soap explained before he continued to stitch her now that she had gone fairly still, pinned to the table by Simon and Price. He was sewing faster than Simon had ever seen him do before. It would be a mess, but it would save her life.

“Thatta girl, Foxy,” Soap cooed even though she was hardly cognizant. “Doing beautifully, lass.” He cast Gaz a sharp look over his shoulder. “Start on Ghost. Price can help me.”

Simon didn’t need to be told twice as he dropped into one of the chairs. It creaked violently beneath his weight. He ripped at the buckles and straps of his vest before removing it and his jacket.

“Lucky for us, Red apparently stole multiple sorts of kits.” Gaz lifted an oven tray with a catheter set, elastic and needles.

“She raided the medical facilities nearby before anyone even knew what was going down,” Bambi said. “Went a little overboard.”

“Typical.” Soap grinned as he poured antiseptic over her shoulder. She was unresponsive, which caused him to frown. “She used to tell us what she’d do in a zombie apocalypse. The girl was ready.”

Gaz slid next to Simon and lifted his left arm, flicking at the inside of his elbow. Simon curled his hand into a fist while Gaz secured the elastic around his bicep, the black rubber blended into the ink scrawled across his skin. It pressed deep into his Fox tattoo.

Her gaze was locked to the top of his bicep. She squinted, her tongue darting along the cracked flesh of her lower lip. With a gentle finger, she traced the tattoo, her expression melded into a soft sort of wonder. After a moment, her eyes watered and she blinked it away.

“A fox?” she murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Is that for me or another lady?”

He scowled. “Don’t be cheeky, duchess.”

Undeterred, she grasped his bicep and kissed the tiny fox. His declaration for her. He couldn’t help the shudder that vibrated through his bones. The warm, wet pressure of her pretty mouth. A devastating feeling burned through him as he watched her, small and beautiful and his. He must protect her, curl himself around her. Destroy everything else. Start at the root and tear it from the soil. Any fucking threat to her safety.

Well, he had failed her. Spectacularly.

Gaz pierced Simon’s vein with the needle before directing it into a tube. He sighed, shaking away the dizziness. He was dehydrated and hungry and on no sleep, but it hardly mattered.

Soap took the other needle and elastic before tying it around Red’s right arm. The IV catheter sat between Simon and Red as the dark - nearly black blood - was transferred between them.

Simon studied her intently, feeling that if he looked away she’d die. Her heart would stop right on that table and he’d never be able to speak to her again.

Red had been human for him. He’d watch her cry after a tough mission and she’d allow him to hold her. Burrow her face into his chest, cling to him and sometimes they’d fuck and sometimes they wouldn’t. Simon demanded her tears. Give them to me, love. Let me take your pain and I’ll never fucking forgive myself for being so late—for being unable to find you when you needed me most. Yes - he had failed her spectacularly and it felt as if he’d failed her again.

Your heart is soft, duchess.

It is not.

Soft as Soap’s.

Soft for you, maybe.

Gaz taped the needle to his arm, helping Simon elevate it just enough. Simon braced his elbows on his knees as he studied her skin and its new scars. He hadn’t even realized she was completely bare on top. He felt a weight drop in his gut-a basket of stones turn over beneath his ribs. Most of those marks were from Kursk. He swallowed. Rage. Again, rage. It set his nerves on fire and made his muscles spasm.

You killed them. You killed all of them for what they did. You tore them apart.

Suddenly, Simon reached out and took her hand. Due to their size difference, it was utterly dwarfed in his grip. He dragged his thumb across the vein in her wrist and felt the delicious thrum of it.

“Her color is coming back, L.T.,” Soap acknowledged before finally stepping away from the table and dragging both hands down his face. He exhaled loudly. “Christ–I think I’ve lost a year off my life.”

Bambi glanced at him. “She’ll live?”

“Looks like it. Just pray she doesn’t get an infection.”

Simon prayed.

***

Please share/reblog your thoughts, babes!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #captain john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod fanfiction #cod mw22 #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #john price #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction

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stheresya · 29 days

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Similarities between the twins Baela and Rhaena and the sisters Arya and Sansa:

“Baela is too wild, […] “How can she rule the realm when she cannot rule herself?” (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) "Ah, Arya. You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it." (Arya II, AGOT)

"Where Rhaena delighted in being the center of court life, Baela bristled at praise, and seemed to take pleasure in mocking and tormenting the suitors who fluttered around her like moths." (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) […] And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too." "Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement." (Catelyn II, AGOT)

"[...] In the Vale, Rhaena had enjoyed a life of comfort and privilege as Lady Jeyne’s ward. Maids had brushed her hair and drawn her baths, whilst singers composed odes to her beauty and knights jousted for her favor. The same was true at King’s Landing, where dozens of gallant young lords competed for her smiles, artists begged leave to draw or paint her, and the city’s finest dressmakers sought the honor of making her gowns." (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) [...] And the Vale of Arryn was beautiful, all the songs said so. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to stay here for a time. (Sansa VI, ASOS) Alayne's apartments in the Maiden's Tower were larger and more lavish than the little bedchamber where she'd been kept when Lady Lysa was alive. She had a dressing room and a privy of her own now, and a balcony of carved white stone that looked off across the Vale. (Alayne I, AFFC) "You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. […] Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor." (Alayne I, TWOW)

Baela’s time on Dragonstone had been more troubled, ending with fire and blood. By the time she came to court, she was as wild and willful a young woman as any in the realm. […] Baela lived to ride…and to fly, though that had been taken from her when her dragon died. She kept her silver hair cropped as short as a boy’s, so it would not whip about her face when she was riding. Time and time again she would escape her ladies to seek adventure in the streets. (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) […] Yet somehow she felt calmer than she ever had in Harrenhal. The rain had washed the guard's blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid. (Arya I, ASOS) Both horses were lathered and flagging by the time he came up beside her, reached over, and grabbed her bridle. Arya was breathing hard herself then. She knew the fight was done. "You ride like a northman, milady," [...] (Arya III, ASOS) No one spared Arya a glance. They were looking for a highborn girl, daughter of the King's Hand, not for a skinny boy with his hair chopped off. (Arya I, ASOS) "Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart's desire." (Catelyn VII, ACOK)

Even more gravely, Baela had a taste for unsuitable companions. Like stray dogs, she brought them home with her to the Red Keep, insisting that they be given positions in the castle, or be made part of her own retinue. [...] Septa Amarys, who had been given charge of her religious and moral instruction, despaired of her, and even Septon Eustace could not seem to curb her wild ways. (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody." (Sansa I, AGOT) […] I despaired of ever making a lady of [Arya]. She collected scabs as other girls collect dolls, and would say anything that came into her head. (Catelyn VII, ACOK)

Lady Rhaena proved to be as tractable as her sister had been willful. She would of course wed whomever the king and council wished, she allowed, though “it would please me if he was not so old he could not give me children, nor so fat that he would crush me when we are abed. So long as he is kind and gentle and noble, I know that I shall love him.” (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) ""Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong." (Sansa III, AGOT)

“Baela’s dragon brought down our late king. There are many in the realm who will not have forgotten that. [...]" (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) The queen stepped forward. “You know full well, Stark. This girl of yours attacked my son. [...] That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off.” (Eddard III, AGOT)

“It must be Rhaena. She has a dragon, her sister does not.” When Lord Corbray answered, “Baela flew a dragon, Rhaena only has the hatchling,” (The Hooded Hand, Fire & Blood) The girls do not even have that much, he thought. Their wolves might have kept them safe, but Lady is dead and Nymeria's lost, they're all alone. (Jon VII, AGOT)

This is obviously not word-for-word similarities but in general terms, their personalities and journeys etc. Both sisters from a great house. One of them willful and tomboyish while the other of a more gentle and conforming nature. The two being separated as they're about to reach adolescence. One of them growing up "peacefully" in the Vale while the other grows amidst war. One of them losing their animal companion. I don't like making speculations on characters based on other characters, but I think it's worth pointing out that the Targ twins survived the war and played a major role in reestablishing peace in the realm. Will the Stark sisters take the same route?

#baela targaryen #rhaena ii targaryen #rhaena of pentos #sansa stark #arya stark #stark sisters #f&b #asoiaf #parallels #valyrianscrolls

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hisokakissmeplz · 11 months

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Halloween Special

Illumi and Hisoka (separately) I'll post hcs for the other characters maybe

Sorry I totally missed kinktober guys but I'ma try and make it up to you all

Also I don't own any of the characters obviously

Illumi as a Vampire

Poor, sweet, innocent little you. You just wanted some strawberries, you were craving them. But of course, your tiny little village was all out. After hours of asking if anyone had seen any bushes with the sweet red berries, there was only one place that came up.

The old Zoldyck place.

It was empty, had been for years. Unless you asked anyone from the village. According to them, the last surviving vampire in this town still lives in his family home. Which was total horseshit, seriously vampires? No such thing.

So off you went, unafraid. And it was so worth it, these bushes had the biggest red strawberries you'd ever seen in your life. You picked and picked and picked, plopping them all in your little basket and humming to yourself.

Which was fun until someone starting humming with you. At first you figured it was some townspeople trying to mess with you.

"knock it off guys!"

You jokingly called out but the humming didn't stop.

"Seriously, it's not funny!"

This time it sounded closer, almost right behind you. You spun around fast, but nothing. The humming continued, only getting closer.

You spun around again, this time tripping over someone and landing in the bush. Someone, the same someone who tripped you in the first place, stuck out his hand to help you up.

You accepted and stood up, dusting yourself off and thanking the stranger. You looked up, smiling sweetly before you saw his face.

You jumped back, trying to put as much distance between him as you could.

God, he looked just as young as he did in all the old photos you'd seen. Victorian family photos of the family. A family that should've been dead a long time ago.

Yet here stood, their eldest son. Still young as ever. Illumi Zoldyck.

"Miss, you dropped this."

He said, monotone while holding your basket.

Your voice shook, your face growing pale and your heart thumping at of your chest, barely able to put together a sentence you mumbled out a weak.

"You're dead."

"Yeah?"

He seemed confused, like if it was common knowledge. You supposed it was, all the locals believed it.

"Oh. What do you want?"

That perplexed him even more.

"What do I want?"

He repeated.

"You're on my property, what do you want?"

That was fair, his voice was soft and deep, yet alluring.

"I was just, I was just picking berries. I'm sorry I didn't know anyone still lived here."

You explained, your voice weak and shaky. What could you say, what could you do? What would make him let you go, was he going to suck your blood now like all those dracula legends?

"Take them, it's not like I need them."

Oh. That was easier than you thought.

"Though, I suppose that means, you owe me now."

This was it. You're dead. He's going to kill you.

You took off, running as fast as you could. There was no way you could fight back against him but maybe, you could reach the gate and be back in town. If you could just make it a little further.

There he was, right in front of you. There was no way, he was too fast for you to follow. One second he was behind you the next, right in front of you. Before you could think, he was behind you again much closer this time. He grabbed a hold of you by your wrists, pulling you inside the old mansion.

It was a beautiful place, old yes, but in great shape.

"You can't run from debt."

His voice echoed from behind you.

"You can if you're fast enough."

You struggled in his grasp, desperately fighting it.

"Clearly you're not."

God, his voice was hot. This was wrong, so wrong, but part of you was smiling inside. You could have ran faster, but you wanted to get caught didn't you? He is rather handsome. How sick you are, deliberately getting caught by a vampire just to let him suck on your neck. Disgusting. Still, you could feel the familiar warmth growing in your core as Illumi spoke.

"You never even asked what I wanted, you catch on a lot faster than the others."

He was treating the whole thing so nonchalantly.

"Stay with me, just a little while?"

This time he was asking rather than demanding, it was strange. Why would he want you to stay, maybe he's lonely, you thought. Maybe that's why he's lures people here, for company and the whole vampire thing just complicates that. Maybe if you just stay for a minute you can sneak out. Totally.

"Yes, of course."

You feigned an unafraid voice. You truly are brilliant.

"Really, that easy?"

You nodded.

It was nice actually, he invited you up to his parlor. You guys played pool and you actually started laughing at his jokes. He made you drinks, surprisingly skilled too.

He excused himself, and you thought this was your only chance. It was fun, hanging out with Illumi, and he was exciting and handsome, but at the the end of the day he still wanted to suck on your neck.

You made for the window, sliding your fingers over the glass and pulling it up. You cringed at the creaking of it but hurried you best to get out.

You swing both legs over the window seal, when you felt his cold hands on your back. Dragging you back in and tsking under his breath. Fuck.

"I thought you said you stay with me."

"I did, but I need to leave now."

He tsked again.

"Then why not excuse yourself, unless..."

His voice was directly in your ear, smooth and deep, whispering yet still so intimidating.

"you're scared of me."

Yeah, you totally were like who wouldn't be.

"No, of course not."

"No, it's fine. There's no reason to be scared, I won't hurt you."

He came closer to you, slowly approaching you. You stood still, rock solid with your heart beating and pounding in your stomach.

He was so close now you could feel the lack of heat coming from him, before he closed the gap between your lips and his.

He kissed you, so warmly despite his cold skin. He let his hands trace along your arms to your shoulders to your neck to your back, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touched.

You held onto him, kissing back and tangling your fingers in his hair.

He kissed all down your lips to your jaw to your neck, his lips caress over the skin of your neck softly, gently. You play with his hair, enjoy the sensitive touch before.

"Shh, it's okay."

He mumbled, his fangs buried in your neck. You whimper at the feeling, his fangs tugging into your skin and sucking hard on your skin with his lips.

His hands still held you gently, despite the violent abuse of your neck.

"You're doing so well."

One of his hands slipped down to your thigh, resting almost under your skirt. Stilling suck your neck, he waits for your nod of approval before moving any further.

His cold fingertips slowly moving up your thigh and under your skirt. The slow drag of his long fingers, as they tread closer to your core, almost too slowly.

It wasn't long before he hand you over the pool table, his mouth still attached to your neck. You felt fuzzy from the blood loss but still wanting to go on. Your hips meeting his with every thrust has his sharp nails dug into your hips.

The table shook with the force of it, and you were sure it would crack at any second but you couldn't care less right now. Not with the slow drag of his dick, tugging against your slick walls before slamming right back in and hitting your cervix.

"Ill-lumi! Lumi!"

You chanted his name over and over again, almost like a prayer as he kept up his excruciating pace.

He just let out soft moans and grunts against your neck as his fangs hitched into the skin.

You felt the way his dick twitched inside you, letting you know how close he was. Not that you were far behind.

You felt his cold hand sliding in-between you two, sliding all the way down to your clit. Rubbing slow circles and switching direction every few seconds became your downfall.

Your body shook and you head spun, you hands gripping tightly at his shoulders. You hadn't even realized you were pulling his hair till you came down.

Illumi stood up, his mouth dark, deep red and his eyes seemingly glazed over.

He leaned in, kissing you softly. You moved your lips in sync, tasting your blood on his lips.

Maybe picking strawberries at the old Zoldyck mansion wasn't such a bad idea afterall.

Hisoka as Ghostface

"Seriously, you're just being paranoid."

Your friend's voice echoing in the house as she pleaded one more time for you to come with her to the Halloween party.

"You won't think so when ghost killer guy shows up!"

You shouted at her from upstairs, sitting on your bed and watching TV.

"His name's ghostface by the way, and you're missing out!"

You heard the thud of your front door shutting as she left.

Maybe you were paranoid, but you felt much safer at your house watching movies instead of being out with a killer on the loose.

Finishing one movie and deciding to take a quick break and get some more drinks and snacks before turning on the next one seemed like a good idea.

Your fuzzy socks made little noice other than the creaking of old steps as you treaded down the staircase.

You were getting together all your snacks when your heard your phone ring in your bedroom upstairs.

Sighing heavily, you pick up all your snacks and drinks and head up the stairs. The creaky steps squeaking at you pace.

You drop all the food on the bed and pick up your phone. You don't recognize the number so you let it ring. Only a few seconds later, you're phone rings again. Same number, deciding it must be important you answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey~"

"Who's this?"

"Guess."

You think about for a second.

"Danny? What do you want?"

"Wrong. Guess again."

"Danny, seriously this isn't funny."

"You really wanna waste your second guess on him?"

"I'm being serious, you're not funny."

Your voice growing a little shaky, it didn't sound like Danny on the phone but still.

"I find myself hilarious, who's your final guess?"

"I don't know, um, Eric?"

Maybe Danny and his cousin Eric were playing a prank on you. They were dicks and Danny knew how scared you were of the killer.

"Aw, wrong. I win."

"Okay, bye."

"Wait."

You hung up, sighing softly and laying back down on your bed to watch your movie.

The phone rang again and you answered.

"Look Danny this isn't funny."

"What movie are you watching?"

Your heart dropped, his deep, raspy voice ringing through you ears and other muffled sounds you couldn't make out.

"It's a comedy,"

"Don't lie to me."

"How do you know I'm lying."

"You're very pretty, such a pretty girl."

The muffled noices on the other line only got louder, still not clear enough for you to hear. Your hand shook with the phone, you grabbed the blanket to cover yourself.

"Oh no, don't do that. I was enjoying the sight."

"Leave me alone, please."

"Aw, keep begging, maybe you'll convince me."

The muffled sound getting louder, an unfamiliar noice but almost like skin slapping.

You hung up, scared and shaking under your blanket as you set your phone down. A loud banging on your window causing you to drop the phone and run downstairs.

The steps whined in protest as you did. Reaching the bottom of them and trying to catch your breath you look up at the front.

How could you be so fucking stupid.

How could you forget something so important.

You forgot to lock the fucking door.

You sprinted for it, as fast as your legs could take you slamming into the door.

Fumbling with your shaky hands and quickly locking the door.

You slid down the wall, your back against it as you relaxed finally. Pulling you knees up and resting your head on them. Shivering in the thin material of your nightgown, you hesitantly headed back upstairs.

Upon entering your room you heard his voice again.

"What about the back door? Come on you know better."

His taunting voice echoing from downstairs.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you rushed to find somewhere to hide.

You dropped onto the ground fast and slid under your bed. Curling up the best you could and trying to quiet your gasping sobs. You felt the fresh warm tears sliding down your cheeks as you hid under the bed.

You could hear his steps up the stairs, the creaky sound of each slow step. You heard it so many times, underestimating how scary it could be.

He finally reached the top of the stairs, turning to the left.

You could hear his footsteps around the second floor, he didn't know where you were. If you could just stay hidden, maybe he'd leave.

Your heart pounded in your throat, your stomach queasy as he entered your bedroom.

You could see his black heeled dress shoes as he walked through your room. He searched your closet, your bathroom and every other space in your house.

But not under the bed. Not under the bed where you were hiding.

You heard his footsteps leaving the room and the creaky stairs start up. He was leaving.

You were safe.

That was when your phone rang.

The loud ringtone blaring in your ears.

Quickly you shut it off, cursing your friend under your breath for her bad timing.

You didn't hear anymore footsteps though, nothing. He was gone, he left.

Just as you were about to slid out from under the bed your heard his raspy, sweet as honey voice ring out.

"Found you."

His long fingers wrapping around your ankle and yanking you out from the bed.

"No, please!"

You yelled and kicked and screamed, although it was all ineffective.

He pulled you close, sitting between your now spread legs and holding you there.

He was strong, strong enough to drag you around like a doll despite your fighting. You could see him now, by the light of your bedroom lamp.

He was wearing tight black clothes, ones that accentuated every muscle and curve of his body. His face hidden behind an old costume mask, a white screaming ghost mask.

He lifted his mask, just enough for you to see his mouth. His strong jaw line jutting out, complimented by the lamplight.

"You're so fun, you almost won too. If it wasn't for that stupid phone, huh?"

You felt more fresh tears slide down your cheeks.

"Aw, don't cry, we can play a new game."

He purred.

His voice filling your ears as you felt a familiar pooling at your core. That added feeling of his thigh rubbing against you every time he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, not helping at all.

He leaned forward again, his thigh pressing against your core giving you small throbs in your cunt.

"How does i- what was that?"

His voice purred out again.

Your face lit up with embarrassment when you realized what he was referencing. The red heat of your cheeks and the continuous throbbing in between your legs making you turn you head to the side so you didn't have to look at him.

"Aw, shy baby. Did you get caught on purpose? Wanted me to find you, didn't you?"

He teased you with his jaunty voice. He laughed, turning your head to face him and holding it there. He used his other hand to lift up the mask.

God he was beautiful.

He wasted no time, leaning down to kiss you passionately. Hesitating at first, you quickly relaxed into the kiss, despite your situation.

His hands moved down your sides, tracing down your hips to your thighs. He let his fingers dance up your thighs, slowly. Kissing you softly, moving down to your neck.

His hand pulling up your night gown a bit, the other sliding up to feel at your soaked core.

"Oh, dirty girl."

He almost moaned in your ear.

You whined and squirm as his long, pretty fingers play with your clit before sliding one into your desperate cunt.

Slowly, his skilled fingers speeding up as he kisses at your neck and chest. Being sure to leave lots of marks for tomorrow.

You arms wrapped around him as he worked to please, grunting as your core tightened for his fingers.

He slipped then out, you let out a small mewl of disapproval.

You feel him tug at your nightgown, pulling it off before reaching for you panties.

"Name?"

You stopped him.

"Hisoka."

He answered, without looking up as he slid your panties off.

He fumbled with his own clothes stripping down the best he could before growing impatient and lining up with your cunt. He thrusted in fast, stopping to let you adjust to the sudden stretch.

"Ah"

You let out breathlessly, holding onto his shoulders.

"Good girl, that's it."

He set a brutal pace, thrust in and out, pounding into you. The slapping of his heavy balls against your ass filling the room.

You whined and cried out. Your desperate voice almost too hoarse for you to recognize.

Really, you thought. Here you are on your bedroom flooring begging this strange intruder to fuck your brains out. You didn't really care how it sounded though, just never wanted it to stop.

You felt the way your whole body tighten around Hisoka. The familiar feeling hitting you as he sped up his unrelenting pace. Your body shaking as you reached your high. He grabs your hips, holding tightly as he starts to chase his own high.

You feel him dropped onto you as he reaches his peak, his chest heaving in sync with yours.

Some how you managed to get into bed, figuring you'd just clean yourself up in the morning, you fell fast asleep.

"Hey! You up here?"

Your friend's voice woke you from your sleep.

"Yeah?" Your voice raspy.

"I was worried, you didn't answer any of my calls last night and- oh."

Her voice changed, along with a smirk adorning her face.

"You ditched my party for some dick?"

Oh yeah, the marks.

#hisoka morow #hisoka hcs #hisoka morrow x reader #hunter x hunter #hisoka #illumi zoldyck #hisoka hunter x hunter #hisoka hxh #hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow #illumi hxh #illumi smut #hxh illumi #illumi x reader #illumi hunter x hunter #illumi headcanons

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shiki-jin · 2 months

Text

sweet cruelty ♡

summary : you & horror protag fulfill some of your shared fantasies

specific cws: heavy violence, cannibalism, reader is mean and sadistic, eroguro, general yandere themes

AGELESS BLOGS & MINORS DNI

i got brainworms about @koinotame 's horror protag oc because i got reminded of a thing they wrote. (stopped writing this but continued when they got this ask). probably not that good but it was going to stay in my brain forever if i didn't write it all out

reader is. sort of immortal? they can live even if they're injured, but can technically die, it's based on nana's lore for horror protag so read that too. horror protag is also pseudo-immortal

(also will be using sylvie which is horror protags name bc i feel like it flows a lot better, but her name isnt mentioned much)

both characters have obv consented beforehand, sylvie is just feeling a bit silly

honestly not sure i included the gore in this as "romantically" (eroguro instead of just plain gore) as I'd hoped, so any feedback there is appreciated !!

again, HEAVY gore under the cut. like this ENTIRE thing is gore. 900 words of it.

you've got your weapon embedded though sylvie’s lung, secured into the wall behind her. your claw-like hands are digging their fingernails into her skull, not stopping until you see the blood flowing down her forehead.

she's smiling enthusiastically as every move you make elicits a moan far too sexual for the situation, but she doesn't care. finally. finally you're using her, torturing her, loving her -- indulging her.

finally you're ripping apart her skin and digging your hands in like she's a full course meal about to be ravaged by you.

finally you're putting your mouth to her neck, biting her flesh and tearing it out, finally you're doing everything she's ever wanted.

she's thanking you, praising you, begging you for god knows what, unafraid to loudly voice her pleasure.

what a fucking masochist, you think, smirking as you decide to go further.

you put your hands to her chest, teasingly running your fingers softly over her nipples before ripping her chest open.

you tear through the tissue of her body as easily as a bear does through steak, and you eventually reach her ribs as they poke out through her bloody mess of a chest now, deciding that you wanted to break every last one in half.

you take the crimson stained white into your hands, and twist.

you let it fall to the floor, and sylvie makes a loud, almost indecipherable noise.

you go to hold one of her hands to the wall with one of your own, as if comforting her.

you bring your other hand to the next rib you've decided to get rid of, and twist again.

sylvie lets out another half-moan, half-scream.

you don't care.

you break another rib.

she screams again.

you twist another.

and another, and another, and another.

you ignore her cries of pain and of thanks and dig deeper while her tears mix with her blood.

and there it is.

her beating, red, juicy heart.

unprotected by her ribcage that was scattered on the ground, and yours to rip apart. yours to eat, grab and to throw away, yours to toy with. just like her.

you decide on leaving it for now, taking off your clothes to dig into your own chest.

you barely seemed to register the pain, quickly tearing through your flesh and blood until you reached your own ribs.

you pushed your body forwards, trapping her to the wall roughly. you let your ribs pierce her body and what was left of her chest, half of her lungs gone.

your ribs cut through her flesh with ease, and to say she felt like she was in heaven was the understatement of the century.

you were inside of her. your body was inside of her, and even though she could barely focus on anything but the pain, she couldn't be happier.

with her (now probably broken from screaming so much) voice still loud and moaning, whimpering, crying out - she professed her love to you endlessly.

it was like a mantra with the way she kept repeating "thank you, i love you," without pause.

you pressed yourself harder, further against her, as deeply as you possibly could.

your ribs encircled hers, rubbing against them as you went to hold her cheek lovingly.

her own hands stayed obediently against the wall, while her cheek was now smeared with her own blood. you leaned in to kiss her, biting on her bottom lip the moment you could, savouring the taste of blood that flowed from it.

god, it tasted so excruciatingly perfect. you could barely wait to have another taste.

she did her best to kiss back, albeit sloppily, and her smile widened even further. you didn't let her get a word in between kisses, but it seemed she was too busy enjoying herself to even try.

you paused for a moment, putting your hand dirtied with blood to your lips to lick it off.

it was too much to bear, to resist, so you didn't.

instead, you dove straight for her heart, mouth gently kissing it, before taking a small bite of the vital, scarlet organ.

the flavours mixed well, you noted. the various types of tissue and fluids making it up made you crave more and more.

so, you indulged the both of you.

you bit piece after piece apart, swallowing them swiftly down your throat once they'd lost their flavour.

eventually, her heart was replaced with an empty space, her broken ribs now having nothing to protect.

you looked at her body, and your eyes settled on her cute, pained, yet exhilarated face.

your hand softly caressed her cheek, thumb landing on her eye before you pressed onto it, a gasp leaving her mouth.

you almost cut her eyeball with your fingernail, but suddenly stopped.

you let out a content sigh, before sticking your thumb and index finger above and below her eye, determined to gouge it out.

sylvie was drooling beneath you, and the deeper you went, the louder her cries got, but she was putting all of her energy into staying in place — making sure to not move a single inch in order to let you rip her eye out as easily as possible.

seeing her enjoy herself so much was already more than enough satisfaction, but you were far from done.

she still had half of her body left, after all. and you’d break her until you no longer could.

#i promise ill be normal tomorrow #might delete this later idk #no clue if it's actually good but shrug #good night yall #yandere x reader #misc #yandere #cw blood #cw: gore #gore #cannibalism #(just to be safe)#eroguro #oc #dom reader #sub character #mean reader #koinotame's ocs

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deiscension · 17 days

Text

once you're stripped clean, what's at your core?

𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝.

the thought of your found family is what motivates you in your own little world. you touch the clouds, and the soil gives way under your footprints... this is utopia. if you were to erase one thing, it would be your memory. experience is important, but ignorance is bliss. identity, in heaven, should give way to happiness. you'd give anything just to sit by the swings and eat ice cream, but this isn't that kind of world. you have to get up and wash the dirt off of your scraped knees. i think you have an escapism problem.

tagged by: stole it from @melodicbreeze

tagging: @dnangelic @kirakiras @riwrite @futurefind @dernarrleid @deathfavor @h3artf3ltint3nt @dcstinyscdgc @cuckoo-among-beasts @indeliblepromise @ghostlypath @flwrcrownd @solivcgant @sleeplesswork @huagushi @teirabhaile @diianxie @miridicalkalon AND YOU READING THIS!!!

#▌ ◈ STUDY ; ⌜my blood is red and unafraid of living ⌟#y. yeah.#THE WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST LOVE LIKE QUESTION. LOOKS AWAY. LOOKS AWAY. L--

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quangxi · 2 years

Text

@razrbomb / one - liner .

‘ Are you hungry ? I don’t mind buying . ‘

#adopted sorry...#heheheh #razrbomb #⊹˳⁺ ››―› my blood is red and unafraid of living. ﹕ in.

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 year

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-One

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I hope life hasn't been too terrible for y'all while I've been gone xD. While on this little vacation, I realized I have Computer Vision Syndrome (CVS). I know that sounds silly, but it actually really fucking sucks. When I write for a long period on my laptop screen (like 5 hours), I get awful eye pain, headache, migraines, blurred vision, vertigo, and nausea. I've learned different tips and tricks to help with it, so I'm doing much better. Thank y'all so much for letting me enjoy my break, and happy reading!

P.S. Updates will still be Sun/Mon.

Chapter Warnings: 0-100 real quick but with sexism, extreme anti-bastard language, minor ableist language, panic attack.

"My blood is red and unafraid of living, beginning to end.

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me too,

And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime.

I'm at my highest peak.

I'm ripe, about to fall, capture me."- Liquid Smooth, Mitski.

Surprisingly, life had proceeded smoothly after your tumultuous reappearance at Kings Landing. You expected more hardships to come, but astonishingly, they had yet to arrive.

However, becoming used to Aegon's advances took time. Following like a lost puppy everywhere you went, never far from his beloved little Princess. Much to your chagrin, people began to group you and the wastrel prince as a pair. Where one was, the other was sure to be.

Queen Alicent had dubbed you Aegon's keeper, ensuring he was not frequenting the Silk Streets and gambling houses as he once did. Playing the role of the Prince's Mother wasn't enjoyable at first, but you understood how much of an advantage this was, and a part of you grew to like it. It was the only sturdy aspect in your life, comforting and tending to Aegon's needs like a nursemaid, and should questions arise from your frequent sightings within the eldest son's apartments, the Queen herself would explain the rumors away.

Alicent prayed to the Seven that providing close contact with Aegon would convince you to see her reasons behind the line of succession and sway you to believe them. Even if that didn't work, she still found a way to control her scoundrel of a son and keep the blanket of shame from lying upon their backs. The Queen did not worry herself about the idea that her son might attempt to corrupt you. She was sure that if Aegon tried anything, you would physically overpower him and that her son's poor, borderline misogynistic words he called flirting would not work on a sensible woman like you.

Alicent had yet to inform her father of the schemes she concocted, and Lord Otto Hightower grew wary of the Bastard Princess and the Drunken Prince's time together. He knew of your loyalty to your family and how you believed with your entire soul that destroying centuries' worth of tradition and precedent would better the realm. By putting Rhaenyra on the throne, a girl he watched grow into a woman uncaring of duty, you would somehow prove yourself better than your worth.

But that was not how things were. That was not how dynasties secured their reign for millennia.

Upon reflecting on the situation, Otto realized he couldn't separate Aegon from you, for he was permanently attached to your hip. He needed someone under his thumb that you deemed trustworthy. Perhaps a knight that you respected and felt a familiarity with?

Otto summoned Ser Arryk to his study during the moment of realization. He tasked the Kingsguardmen to become your protector in the Red Keep regarding your newly appointed status as Small Council member. Lord Hightower knew it was a lie, and he understood you would too, but was comforted by the notion that Ser Arryk would accept this task with duty, honor, and integrity and would not fail him.

Yet, Arryk's reports back to him were trivial. He gave the Hand information he already knew and, at moments, even made him doubt putting the White Cloak to the task. The only thing that sparked Otto Hightower's interest was how many letters departed from the Rookery. At one point, when the Lord was genuinely desperate, he opened a letter addressed to Dragonstone, hoping to find something, anything that would give him that edge, but was greeted with a language he didn't understand and hot embarrassment for having been caught by the newly appointed Grand Maester Orwyle after the death of his predecessor.

But it was no matter, the Hand told himself. He learned how to wait. Otto Hightower spent many years playing a game no one else knew they were in and had not failed yet, for his daughter was crowned Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, and his grandson was in line to inherit the Iron Throne. Otto Hightower had to be patient, as he always was, and everything would fall into place.

***

The eldest Prince's head rested in your lap, his violet orbs following the shapes of the white cotton clouds in the afternoon sky. You watched Princess Helaena search for bugs on the underside of leaves, quietly humming to yourself a song Rhaenyra had sung to you on many occasions.

You had just finished picnicking with him, Helaena, and her children, the tots handed to a nursemaid after little Jaehaerys fell asleep in your arms. It was a request by Aegon to his sister-wife to have them all for lunch. An idea you planted in his head that initially did not include a third person, but upon Aegon's manipulation Helaena allowed you to come—explaining something about how good you were with his son and that it would be practice for when you made the eternal sacrifice that was the act of raising children. Helaena immediately brightened at the notion of you possibly bringing more babes into the Keep and agreed immediately.

A nuzzling sensation on your stomach stole you from your contented trance, looking down to see Aegon pressing his nose into the crevice where your stomach overlapped the apex of your thighs. He continued the movements as you glanced over to Helaena, ensuring she was still distracted by the pair of mating green beetles she found.

"Aegon," you chastised, cocking a brow at the burrowing Prince. "Your wife is standing ten and five paces from us."

"And?" he prompted, nipping at the thin golden fabric of your natural waistline.

"And she could suddenly become disinterested in the pair of breeding insects and see her lord husband burying his face into the navel of another woman," you snapped, slightly curling your lip as your fingers glided over his scalp.

"Helaena would not care. She is my sister," Aegon flippantly retorted, his words muffled by your gut.

You rolled your eyes, the ring of purple shimmering in the Spring daylight and momentarily distracting Aegon. "She is your wife by law and the divine. 'Tis an insult for you to be so openly disrespectful of your ties," you answered cooly.

The Prince groaned, the noise muffled by silk and flesh as he moved his hands, swiftly palming at your breasts before he sat upright.

"Your observations are always appreciated, little one, but I believe those skills could be put to better use," he teased, giving your tits another squeeze as you stifled a squeal before separating to a proper distance.

"Rotten prince!" you whispered heatedly to Aegon, glancing at Helaena again.

He snickered in response, taking a swig of the imported strawberry mead from Drone to hide his smirk. "I seem to remember you calling me a different name last night." He gulped down the drink, releasing a satisfied exhale. "What was it again? Good boy? My sweet Prince?" He feigned forgetfulness, gazing into the blue sky with a stubby digit tapping his chin. "Oh, that's right! I remember now! 'Twas-"

You launched across the patterned blanket the servants had placed and tackled Aegon, covering his mouth with your fist as he squealed like a captured piglet. He wriggled like one as you attempted to punch his cherubic cheeks, legs straddling his torso.

Suddenly, your name was called, startling you and causing your hands to move from Aegon's body and rest your weight fully atop his waist. You feared the worst. Helaena, furious at you and storming over to have you escorted from Kings Landing for your scandalous actions, destroying your plans.

"Please, don't hurt him too badly," Helaena said, still focused on the beetles. "I am certain whatever caused this isn't worth murdering him over, but if you must..." She trailed off, turning her hand over as the emerald bug crawled across the back of it. "I have not seen anything."

It took a few blinks to realize she was jesting. Her monotone, almost dreamy voice did not indicate if she was. A hint of a smile graced Helaena's thin, peony lips, a devilish glint within your eyes as you bent your knees to attack.

"Devious women! Evil women, the lot of you!" Aegon cursed in faux protest, wrestling his arms with yours as a grin split your face.

And that was how Ser Arryk found you, straddling the eldest son of the King as you rolled over the top of each other like fighting wolves, kicking the large wicker basket to his feet on accident. He cleared his throat as he reached you, Aegon using the distraction to his advantage as he flipped you over onto your stomach, mouth centimeters away from your neck.

"Princess," Ser Arryk interrupted awkwardly. Aegon deflated against you at the sound of his voice, resting his forehead on your shoulder in defeat.

"Good afternoon Ser Cargyll," you chirped, trying to control the blush that crept across your cheeks. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Arryk's gaze flickered to the protruding flesh of your bosom before swiftly averting his eyes to the blooming shrubs. He cleared his throat again, the notch bobbing as he swallowed.

"The Hand has ordered a meeting of the King's Council, your Grace. 'Tis an urgent matter," he answered, his back ramrod straight.

You sighed in acknowledgment, using your palms to arch your body and shove Aegon off, his short nails catching on the embroidered beads of your dress. He groaned in annoyance as he flopped onto the ground dramatically, reminding you of Jaehaerys during one of his tantrums.

Righting yourself, you smoothed the golden fabric of your gown, which Helaena commissioned for you as a Maiden Day gift and finally felt appropriate enough to wear. You nodded at the Kingsguardmen, walking a few paces before turning to face Helaena and Aegon, the latter pouting like the spoiled boy he was.

"I apologize that our picnic must be shortened, my Prince and Princess. I'm sure we could meet for supper if that is feasible," you offered with a tilt of your head.

Helaena nodded, strolling over to her sulking brother as she nudged him with her slippered foot.

Arryk observed the interaction as he waited, his eyes trailing to places of sin. The way your flowing silk dress hugged your skin, the white pearls on the neckline complimenting your intricately styled ebony hair. Bronze beads were sewn on the gold fabric in a way that reminded him of a weeping willow, the same little balls threaded into your thin sleeves in a swirling pattern. His gaze danced over your curves next, your hips, waist, arse, anything he could see before you faced him once more, a brilliant smile on your lips.

Shame ran hot through his veins as he made contact with Aegon, his eyes dark and stare piercing. Arryk had only seen looks like that from men set to battle, hardening themselves for imminent slaughter. He knew of the Prince's quick anger, a secondhand source of it from his brother. Whatever Aegon was thinking, or more so planning, Ser Arryk didn't want to be a victim of.

He quickly turned, making his way towards an entrance of the Keep without regarding the sole reason he came. You watched Ser Cargyll's retreating form, throwing a perplexed look at Helaena and Aegon before following him, the string of pearls around your waist swaying with the movement.

Once you both were far enough away from the Godswood, you stood in Arryk's pathway, hands on your hips.

"Why did you leave so abruptly? 'Tis hardly proper as a member of the Kingsguard to turn your back on his kin," you interrogated.

"My apologies, Princess," Arryk bowed, muscles tense.

Your face soured, cringing at the emotionless sound of his voice. "None of that," you waved your hands, dismissing the subject. "Twas odd, is all. I've never seen you act in such a way before. It concerns me." You paused, pursing your lips as you glanced at the cracked red stone floors, moving closer to him. "Did Lord Hightower inform you why the meeting was called? Is that the reason for your callousness?"

Ser Arryk swallowed the lump in his throat that formed while watching your concerned face scrunch, the violet in your eyes becoming larger as your pupils shrunk in the daylight. He couldn't answer your questions truthfully without knowing your relationship with Aegon, redirecting the conversation to something more comfortable.

"I am unaware of the reason," Arryk answered instead, his posture still tense as he spoke. "It's rather unusual for the Hand to do this, no?" He noted the brief scowl that pulled your mouth, tucking your lips in to nibble at them.

"Yes. You are correct, Ser Cargyll," you nodded, pivoting on the balls of your feet as you proceeded with your journey. "It unnerves me greatly if you do not mind me speaking freely." You glanced at him in your peripherals. He encouraged you to continue, following a respectable distance. "The last time something like this happened, Grand Maester Mellos passed, and Mother encouraged me to have her Maester put forth. 'Twas humiliating when Lord Hightower said it was the Citadel's decision, not the King's."

You pinched the bridge of your nose at the memory, shame, and regret burning your ears to this day. Ser Arryk chuckled at your recollection and, without thinking better of it, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as a friend or companion would. He recoiled faster than a striking snake once he realized, clenching his fist behind his back in abashment.

You peered at him curiously with a raised brow, assessing the situation. The knight had forgotten himself, acting more of an acquaintance than a protector. Some of you wanted to dismiss what happened and brush it off as a mistake anyone would make when spending nearly every waking moment with someone. Still, the other more intellectual side saw the opportunity that had just presented itself, and who were you to ignore it?

In your hopes that it was amicable, a grin crossed your face, hooking your opulent arm with his armored one, encouraging him to keep walking and that you weren't offended by his actions. You continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, explaining to him more times that you made a fool of yourself during court and your anxiety with the impending Lords you were about to face. Arryk listened intently, offering consoling words each time you finished, eventually loosening his flexed muscles. Once you were a few paces away from the Council Chambers, you parted from Ser Cargyll with a polite smile, asking him to wait outside the doors until the meeting was done. He, of course, agreed, finding a spot alongside the wall as you entered.

Insecurity flipped your stomach as the few Lords stared at you, each of their expressions one of shock. You gazed back at them, unsure of the reason for their behavior, as your nails dug crescents into your blanched palms. Alicent was the only person with a neutral look, hiding the faint smile on her plush lips between her hands as she sat in the high-backed chair at the end of the long table.

Lord Tyland Lannister smirked as you signaled Aemond to pour a glass of wine, needing the courage the firewater brought. You followed the direction of his eyes, realizing they were on your outfit, glancing between the pearl dragon earrings and necklace to the shimmering gold of your gown. You understood it was something you would have never chosen yourself, more comfortable in your red and dark day-to-day palette, but it was a gift from a princess, and you weren't expecting an impromptu meeting. It would be best if you had changed before attending, you nervously thought.

Lord Beesbury was the last member to join, rushing in with a flurry of robes and parchment, the scrolls tumbling out of his arms. You rose to help him and gathered the fallen documents, ignoring the impatient groans of the men above you. Lord Laymen gave you a grateful smile, dropping the scrolls in a pile on the oak table before seating himself.

Otto Hightower broke the thick silence with a sigh and clap of his hands.

"I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, but I have news regarding aid to the Stepstones," he announced uncharacteristically cheery. "We have received the shipments requested earlier than initially thought, and our Master of Coin's secretary has counted everything himself."

You couldn't hide the annoyed tick of your jaw for not knowing this news first. Lord Laymen was told to come to you regarding when the imports arrived. He was the Master of Coin, and a portion of his duties lay in the imports and exports of Kings Landing. You felt a sense of betrayal at the man, your usual cordial look towards him replaced with an icy one.

"This is wonderful news," Lord Lannister replied boisterously, a smile hidden underneath his beard. "Mayhaps we'll finally be done with this Triarchy nonsense, and Lord Corlys will prevail." The Master of Ships raised his half-empty cup, everyone except for you mimicking his actions. "A toast," he hollered, looking at everyone at the rectangular table as you swiftly lifted your drink to match them, "to the Bastard Princess for finally ending this Gods forsaken war."

"Hear, hear," rang out in the room from all the men, only the two women posing across each other, keeping their mouths shut. You downed the entire contents of the blood-orange wine in one go, swallowing the biting insult that threatened to spill from your mouth at the namesake.

"Thank you, my Lord Tyland, but we shouldn't partake in any victory celebrations yet," you said, false appreciation in your tone. "I would like to see the shipments myself if that is all right with you, Lord Beesbury? 'Tis not that I don't trust your secretary; this project is something dear to me, and I would feel at peace if I were there to ensure it in person."

The older Lord nodded almost ludicrously, "Of course, Princess. We shan't proceed without your approval."

Tossing a saccharine smile to the gentleman under your dark lashes as Lord Jasper chimed in. "Princess, I would like to accompany you in the process. As the Master of Laws, I must ensure they have the required documentation to sail to Dragonstone. We have increased our naval patrol over Blackwater Bay, and I would hate for the goods to be confiscated. If they were, it would be out of my hands then."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at Lord Wylde, unable to hide the look of disbelief on your face. It felt like an unnecessary request of Lord Jasper, and it insulted you to have him think he could get away with it. "They got here fine, did they not? Refrain from troubling yourself with such trivial tasks. I would be surprised if those men could even read," you quipped, forgetting the courtly tone excepted of you.

Suddenly, the room went noiseless, the joyful feeling replaced with something else.

"Many would say the same about a woman like yourself—a bastard from the slums of Flea Bottom sitting on the King's Small Council. Most people would think you suited elsewhere," Ser Jasper sneered, slighted by your remarks.

Your face grew scalding, your hands balling into fists on your lap. You couldn't contain the following words, the inherited rage from the Rouge Prince boiling to the surface. "Why? Are you looking for another wife? Gods rest her soul."

Gasps filled the room. Everyone, even the One-Eyed Prince, was stunned at the venom that had just spewed from your lips. It had only been a month since the passing of Lord Jasper's wife, not yet through the mourning period. You wanted to take it back as soon as you sounded it. Not because of how vile it was but because it cracked the mask of righteousness you wore with pride, showing how much you were truly like your reckless father—the man who slaughtered the innocents of Flea Bottom over a decade ago.

"It would fit you better," he snapped, "wailing in pain while you served the only purpose a woman like you is good for."

You shot out from your chair, nostrils flaring and lifting your skirt before thinking better of it in an endeavor to unsheath your dagger.

"Enough!" The Queen shouted, stopping you from doing something you wouldn't survive to regret. "The Princess shall survey the shipments without company. This meeting is finished."

Each member left the chambers like frightened deer; even the Hand himself left in such a hurry that it shocked Queen Alicent herself. You could feel their lingering stares as they went, putting your cutlass back in its proper place before flickering your glare to the only occupants still brave enough to stay. Aemond stared at you with regard of what could only be interpreted as amazement, his one purple eye wide and bow lips parted like a suffocating fish would—Alicent, still seated, staring at her raw cuticles, a shadow cast over her heart-shaped face from her forearms.

You left with a succinct curtsy and newfound gratefulness for the Queen, pushing the hair that had fallen over your shoulders behind you and meeting the bewildered gaze of Ser Arryk. He would undoubtedly heard the loud screech of your chair as you nearly pounced on Ser Jasper Wylde, and you could see the concern etched in the fine lines of his skin. You disregarded his outstretched hand that wishfully asks to link arms again, the skirt of your dress nearly causing you to trip from your brisk pace. Arryk swallowed the bitter discomfort that formed in his throat at the denial and caught up to you with haste.

"Your Grace, are you well?" The knight oppugned.

"Quite well. Thank you, Ser Cargyll," you gagged, swatting away a strand of hair that blew into your mouth. Arryk's armor clanked with his swift gait, his white cloak billowing behind him.

"Are you sure, my Lady? I heard a commotion moments before the meeting adjourned," he prodded, hoping you would answer his unasked question.

"I tripped Lord Larys, and he fell into his chair, finally putting the poor cripple out of his misery," you snarled, unsure of your destination as you continued moving. "Is that what you want me to say, hmm?" You stopped abruptly, whipping your body around to face him. "That the wildling bastard Aegon Targaryen found in Flea Bottom is an eel like everyone else? Mayhaps I should go back and live amongst my fellow leeches."

Ser Arryk stared at you in stunned confusion, shock, and befuddlement about where your frustrations and sudden outburst originated.

"Princess-" He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, lips curling and uncurling as he tried to find the proper expressions. Arryk finally gave up, his cerulean stares closing as he straightened his posture, becoming the impersonal Kingsguard he trained to be.

Even in your rage, Arryk still found you beautiful. Your inklike mane was braided skillfully in a half up half down style, golden pearl pins framing the soft features of your countenance. Immediately he buried the thought, a blush dusting across his pale cheeks. He desired desperately that moment he had his helmet covering the pink. You soughed, realizing your anger was misplaced, and crossed your arms, the bronze beads of your dress catching one another.

Before you could apologize, you caught a blur of green in the distance, the Queen Consort walking purposefully towards you, a firm yet serene expression on her soft face. The knight took note of your gaze, no longer on him, and turned, his posture impossibly more tense than before.

You both bowed in unison as she halted, dismissing Ser Arryk with the wave of her emerald and peridot jeweled fingers. Eyeing her curiously, you fell beside her, assuming she wanted to talk privately. Queen Alicent hushed as you trekked the long winding hallways of the Keep, waiting for the palace's inhabitants to thin before speaking.

"Twas unbecoming of Lord Wylde to speak in such a manner. I want to apologize on his behalf Princess," she said, causing your stomach to tighten.

The Queen never apologized; not once could you recall a moment where she indeed had. High-borns never sought remorse for their actions from those beneath them. They believed themselves above such things, especially a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You were just a princess, not even in line for the Iron Throne should something tragic happen to the people before you, and yet Alicent was seeking forgiveness. Not even for her actions!

"I believe your apology is unwarranted; you've done nothing wrong. I should hear this from Lord Jasper and not you, my Queen," you replied, flicking a brown and purple eye at her.

Alicent clasped her hands together, a position they seemed never to leave as she nodded grimly. "Yes, I agree, but he would never wound his pride like that. 'Tis the only thing men like him have."

You couldn't hide your disbelief, trying not to bring attention to your reaction lest she decide to rescind this brief moment of peace between you. While her mocking slightly disarmed your caution, you still trod carefully, not adding anything to what you thought of "men like Lord Jasper Wylde." When Queen Alicent saw you would not further her chaffing, she quieted, the delicate grin on her plush lips fleeting.

"It was sad, what he said," Alicent continued thoughtfully, "about your lineage." You glanced at her from the corners of your eyes, not indicating your thoughts. "It's unfair that you're the only bastard who receives nothing."

You quizzically raised a manicured brow at her, willing your mouth not to scowl. "How so?"

"Your adopted brothers. It is no secret that their father is not who Rhaenyra claims to be." You didn't hide the distaste from your look, ceasing your pace alongside her.

"Careful where you tread, my Queen. Some might think what you're implying is treasonous."

Her nude lips pouted, her aureate viridian earrings swaying as she followed. "I know you believe it to be true. I trust that there is comfort in numbers, I suppose. The more bastards in the House, the more likely one would be willing to accept their claim."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, continuing the direction Alicent had set, yet not knowing where it was to be.

"Truly, I do not understand where this hate of bastards comes from. Men have them more than legitiment ones; why is the Heir not held to the same standard?" you griped, ignoring the Queen's unhurried footfalls to catch up to you.

"Because men do not give their bastards titles. They are not set to inherit what their father has, just as you're not."

You stopped striding again, storming to Alicent like an orange flame emerging from a dragon's throat. "I do not need more titles or gold. My worth is not defined by a piece of parchment or coin like yours." Your chest heaved, the necklace resting upon it, glinting with each breath. "Your implications of my brothers' birth will not be so easily forgotten as the King. My Mother will hear of this, and I-"

"The same Mother who refuses to give you what her sons of equal lineage have?"

The urge to strike her was powerful, your mind a raging inferno of acrimony, anger, and a cold draft of hurt. You quickly shoved it away, focusing on the two you could feel clawing at your ribs to escape. But before you could put your emotions into words, a door opened, a short curly white-haired head peeking out.

Aegon's curious amethyst eyes flitted between you and his Mother, attempting to discern what your clenched fists and red face were about, holding a chalice in his hand. You looked back at Alicent in a mix of malice and disgust for having been so worked up that you didn't realize she had led you to her son's door. Alicent's face was schooled, her back straight and neck high, appearing the ever-regal Queen her father groomed her to be.

"Princess, come," Aegon called, his speech lightly slurred, "join me for a drink. You look like you need one."

You hid the sigh of defeat from Alicent, facing her son with a placid smile. "I do not believe it would be proper of me to join you in your chambers without a chaperone," you countered, though you desired greatly to run into his room and lose the ire of the day.

"You are family, Princess," the Queen chimed in, eager to have you distract her eldest son from drinking too heavily and inevitably embarrassing her.

You glared. She knew of Aegon's unkinship-like desire for you, yet, she was content with practically throwing you into his chambers unsupervised. Every expletive you could think of wanted to be thrown at her, but you held your tongue.

"If her Grace is all right with it," you curtsied, hatred beaming as your voice displayed the opposite. "I shall join you for a drink."

Aegon smiled joyfully, taking a swig of his chalice before opening the door wider as you entered, but not before throwing Alicent a nasty look, the Queen's face unchanging.

You stormed over to the table in the middle of Aegon's greeting room, dragging the simple wooden chair on the stone floor as it screeched. Placing your head within your palms, you huffed, relaxing your constantly tense shoulders as the tipsy Prince sat across you.

"I wasn't lying when I said you look like you need a drink," Aegon teased, furthering his jesting with a slow sip from his cup.

Dismissing him with a shake of your head, you leaned back in your seat with your legs outstretched and face pointed to the ceiling in an unladylike position. You had already drunk an entire bottle worth of alcohol today, and it was only a handful of hours after midday, and waking up the next morn with a cotton mouth and a pounding headache did not seem like a pleasant idea.

"Perhaps I shall make you come, then, for a change." In response, you tilted your head down, your chin tucking into your chest, eyes in incredulous slits. "You always take such good care of me, little one. Let me return the favor."

You couldn't deny that the idea was appealing. It had been ages since you dove into the soothing water that was pleasure, always preoccupied with Aegon, social events, and politicking. The only moments you ever felt that insatiable need the spoiled Prince seemed to have was with him, but more important things were at hand during those moments.

Your pleasure was not a priority, only his. He was the one that needed to become smitten with you. When he finally was, you would give him a choice, stay with his little Princess under the warmth of your bossom, drinking wine and eating all the sweet cakes he could stomach, or die seated on the Iron Throne as your dragon's flames melted the swords into his flesh.

"I do not need tending to, Aegon, but your offer is much appreciated," you replied, standing as you walked toward the open balcony doors.

The air was sweet, filled with the pollination of flowers and trees, the temperature mild, not too hot, nor too cold, a light-sleeved gown sufficient. Aegon quickly followed after you, resuming a mirrored position from the table on the railing, following your gaze to the southern side of Kings Landing.

He wished so ardently for you to give in to your human desires. It had been months of you living within the Red Keep, something Aegon had prayed to the Old Gods and the New since you left him. He spent countless sleepless nights buried high within his cups and deep within women's cunts to cope with his misery, going so far as to request particular whores with the same dark hair as you to bleach a strand to match yours. Nothing worked. It was never enough, never you.

Until now.

The most you had shown Aegon of the cunny he dreamed of was a glimpse on one secret night where his Mother had been particularly cruel with her words, something or other about spending time with his children. You had comforted him with a soothing ballad of kind words and lifting your skirts. Aegon came with such a force that he thought he saw the Stranger. He finally understood why they were called little deaths, for if he had spent like that every time, he would be dead by now.

Aegon perked at your sigh, watching your dress glitter in the sunlight as you crossed your arms. You looked like you belonged to him then, adorned in the same gold and opulence he loved to wear. He imagined then what life would have been like if you became his wife and not his dreamy-eyed sister.

How many children would you have now? Would he still have the twins?

Aegon chuckled at the thought, catching your curious stare as he quieted. No, most certainly not. He would never leave you a moment unswollen if you wed. You would have sired at least six children if your body and the Gods allowed it. Your breasts would weigh heavy on your back, and Aegon, the ever-doting husband, would heal you from that pain. He would fuck you until the babe's head dropped, and you could see its lanugo hair. He would stay by your side through every moment of your birthing despite the impropriety of it. Then, after that, Aegon would care for the wounds his child caused, dabbing at your tender womanhood and applying the ointments the Maester prescribed.

A thumping in Aegon's cock tore him from his fantasies, reeling him into the present. You unmarried and babeless, him a piss poor father for his current children and neglectful husband to his real wife. He brushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to fall into the home that was his self-loathing. You were right across from him, deep into your head. He could give it to you now, what he desired, and see how your little deaths would rake through your whole body.

"I can sense you staring," your voice struck like the water he fell into at Blackwater Bay this past winter, "and why you are doing so. You will not make me come, Aegon. I've no want for it."

"Is that a challenge, little one," he teased, pushing off the red stone banister and sauntering towards you.

"No," you answered, facing him with a steeled expression. "It's a command."

"Awe, but Princess, the look in your eyes says differently."

You guffawed, your brows shooting to your hairline as you tilted your head. "You must be drunk then, for you are seeing things. Come now, let's sober you up."

You signaled for him to follow as you walked back inside, only to be stopped by Aegon's deft hands. He moved you more forcefully than possible, dragging you back to your former spot and caging your legs between his.

"Aegon, be serious," you declared, attempting to move his limbs but failing. Despite his lack of training, Aegon could be relatively strong when he wanted.

"I have waited years for you to return to me. I have cried, alone at night in my chambers, praying that the Gods bring you back." You watched him with a look of surprise and sympathy, reaching your arm out to stroke his cheek, something you knew disarmed him, but he swiftly snatched it. "But they did not answer. Now, I have you, and I shall never let you leave."

Aegon's lips crashed against yours without warning, his pink tongue making its way to tangle with yours. You were frozen at the sudden foreign sensation, leaving your jaw to hang loosely open before he shoved a knee betwixt your thighs. The beads of your dress created harsh pinpricks of pleasure on your pearl, causing your mouth to open and your body to slacken, Aegon deepening the kiss instinctually. Your back arched over the stone railing, the Prince's hold being the only thing to keep you from tumbling to your death, digging your fingers into the fabric of his doublet for leverage. If you were to fall, you would ensure the unspoken heir would do so with you.

Aegon's mouth left yours, taking the chance to regain both your breaths before he dove back in, sucking and nipping at the expanse of your neck. His hands began to explore downward on your body, his nails catching on the metal orbs sewn into the fabric, treading lower, lower, and lower until he bunched the fabric of your skirt in his grip.

"Aegon." You tried to sound firm, but the word became a whimper. Squirming in his grasp to leave, you only became weak, the steady placement of his knee rubbing against that sacred area, turning your muscles to mush. "Stop."

He shushed you in response, nuzzling his nose behind your ear, inhaling the welcoming smell of lavender and dragon. "It's all right, little one. I'm here. You deserve this," he cooed, snaking his palm across your navel and down to your heat.

He felt the hair there, more plentiful than when Aegon last touched it, brushing over the coarse strands before entering a finger between your lips. You cried out at the coldness of his digits against your sensitive core, trying to heat his touch before venturing further.

"You're soaked, sweet girl," he purred into your ear, nibbling at the decorated lobe. "Why do you deny yourself so? You do so much for the kingdom, for your family," Aegon paused, parting your damp lips and sliding a slick finger over your bud as warmth shot through you, "for me." Your leg hitched at his touch, moaning loudly as his pad drew circles.

"I don't-" you wept, cutting yourself off as you felt a coil in your stomach form.

"You don't what?" he mocked, pressing firmer and causing a spark of ecstasy to bolt through you. "Don't want it? No." Aegon shook his head, answering for you. "You don't deserve it? No again. You do more in a day than my wastrel father did during his entire reign."

Aegon went faster now, his finger rubbing harder than before and making you leak onto your thighs. "Don't... talk about your father," you said breathily, your head leaning on his.

You felt the vibration of his laugh in your skull, giving you a momentary peck to your jaw in apology as his other hand dropped the skirt of your gown and wrapped it around your waist to grind into his touch. Your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, the wire inside your abdomen rapidly tightening with each refined movement.

"You deserve this. You know you deserve this," Aegon repeated, using your moistness to go faster. "I want you to say it. I want you to say it when you come," he haughtily commanded, his voice thick.

His fingers were too focused, his touch too good, and you were so, so deprived of intimacy. With a few more circles, rubs, and kisses, you felt the words tumbling off your lips, the coil wound too tight as your neglected cunt soaked his fingers with appreciation.

"I deserve this!" you shouted into the cerulean sky, Aegon's digits working you through your climax. "I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this," you rambled, your body having a mind of its own.

"You do, little one," he praised. "Let them hear it. Let them know your worth."

"I deserve this," you mewled one last time, nodding your head against the side of his resting on your shoulder, looking like the many cats of the Keep marking their scent. Aegon peppered you with kisses as you inhaled gulps of air. Your legs twitched, and you struggled to stand as the aftershocks subsided, held by only the Prince's strength.

It was impossible to think clearly, to fully grasp what had happened. The months, perhaps even years of negligence you spent with self-pleasure, finally coming to a rearing head, clouding your mind. The consequences of your actions failed you. Your only thoughts of how Aegon slowly dropped to his knees, pulling your skirt higher as he looked up with a mischievous yet admirable look in his violet eyes, his mouth latching onto your puffy cunt with a grin.

"One more," he murmured, his moist breath tickling, "I just need one more."

***

Aegon had lied. He did not only pry one more climax from you but three in total. Once on the terrace, back draped over the railing, your hair hanging over the ledge. The second time underneath the caring disguise of wiping away the slick from your core, only to be met with his middle and ring finger inside your tight velvet walls, and finally, the third, with a combination of his tongue and digits.

You knew you shouldn't have trusted the boy. Aegon was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms for having an appetite that no amount of whores, food, or wine could satisfy. You didn't realize it extended to another's pleasure also. Your bones were made of the Apple Muse you adored by the end, your muscles so weak from the rapid tensing and untensing as he ripped those little deaths from you.

When all was said and done, the whore of a Prince took great care of you, ensuring your throbbing cunny was clean from both your fluids, and servants brought a pitcher of water.

You were drifting asleep, an action you knew was unwise to do with Aegon around. The possibility of waking with the intrusion of his cock inside your wall was at the forefront of your mind. That fear was the only thing that kept you from drifting off when your body all but screamed for it. You took to speaking with him to distract yourself from rest, reminding him with mumbles that you promised Helaena that you would dine with her tonight. Aegon would have to play the husband's role again and see his children.

It was always difficult to return to Helaena knowing what you had done with him but not the guilt an adulteress would have. Yours was different. Shame that you were playing a game with her husband, knowingly partaking in these acts of scandal towards a goal and not for the pleasure of it. You did not know which was worse.

You were sure that Helaena would not be upset for your actions as a typical Lady Wife would, for she didn't love him like one. You supposed she would be grateful for what you were doing, keeping him away from the Silk Streets, gambling houses, and fighting pits. Ensuring there were no more bastards than there already were running around in Kings Landing. Well, that was what you convinced yourself, at least so you could look at the People's Princess without your sins written across your face.

The timber of Aegon's voice tickled your ear, snapping open your eyes that you didn't realize were closed. "I had the maids tell Helaena that we shall dine in my rooms tonight," he chuckled to himself, pecking you on the cheek with a grin, "since you are in no shape to make the journey to her's."

You nodded, unable to protest, and pushed yourself against the headboard to make yourself more alert. Aegon scooted into place beside you, resting his head on your shoulder while he played with the rings on your fingers.

You still couldn't process what happened; disappointment was the only thing you could feel. The heavy-weighing claws of it tugging on your heart and dragging it into a bottomless dark pit, constantly carrying, pulling, weighing down on you until you felt the searing pricks of tears in your eyes.

You had let yourself down and succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh that had ruined so many great men in history. You promised to focus only on Aegon and his desires, and wrongfully, you thought it would be easy. You had anticipated that the Prince was like all other men with sex, only seeking their release, and hadn't planned for him to seek yours out. By all accounts, Aegon had been just that.

This was the first moment he had wanted you to reach ecstasy during your entire stay. The most Aegon ever begged for was a glimpse of your tits and cunny, working himself in his own hands during the process. Where had the sudden urge to pleasure you emerge from?

Perhaps the plan was going better than you thought. It's only natural for a man to desire a woman's warm embrace eventually. Still, you hadn't realized it would come at the unreciprocating hands of Aegon the Drunk and only for him not to want something in return. You had long ago made peace with the fact that you would endure the tearing of your maidenhead by him and expected nothing more to bear but this... Aegon had opened something locked tightly inside of you, and your mind could not understand it, so it found the only thing it did: hatred. Not hatred towards the eldest Prince but toward yourself.

You loathed yourself for what you did, what you allowed. You would understand the reasonings behind the act if it was only once, but you had allowed Aegon to take, take, take from you, willingly, knowing your morals. It was your fault for what happened. There was no one to blame but yourself.

You searched desperately for anything to justify what happened. Did it bring the unsung heir closer to you? No. You would've had the same results if you had just let him rape you. It further helped make Aegon realize he wanted to be with you more than having riches? No. The climax after edging him ten times would make him learn that. What was the justification?

You hadn't realized your chest began to pant, alarming the Prince beside you to look over in concern. You felt sick at the sight. His perfectly chiseled marble face staring at you with his amethyst eyes twinkling with rising worry, and you rolled off the bed, stumbling. Your body shook, shoulders tensed to your ears as your fists trembled, pacing aimlessly across his room. Succinct gasps left your quivering lips, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall.

Aegon watched with horror as you ran back and forth across the length of his bed chambers like a caged animal. He had no idea what to do, trying to call out to get your attention but receiving no response. Your hands go to your ears, trying to block out the sounds of a near-silent room as you hiccup.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Aegon shuddered with a bone-rattling shake, quickly glancing down and then up to see the dust from his ceiling falling to the floor. An ear-bursting roar boomed through the entirety of King's Landing, causing the filled cups of his room to vibrate in their place. He felt the stone floor shake again with the moving of the dragon's footsteps, no doubt belonging to Cannibal.

Aegon ran to you swiftly at your dragon's second room, seeing the edge of orange flames and smoke rising in the sky from his opened balcony doors. He knew of the bond a rider and their mount possessed, having witnessed it with his own Sunfyre when he too was upset, but never at this length. Cannibal was wild and still barely tamed, unaware of the social norms humans had that the others of his species understood. More roars sounded, but softer this time, as if they were in the distance. Aegon ignored them, focusing on trying to pry your digits that had wound themselves into your braided hair, your scalp blanched and roots nearly showing.

He said your name first, attempting to gather your attention from where it had run off, but that didn't work. Nothing worked. No amount of cooing and soothing, as one would do to a child, made it past your deaf ears. Aegon began to narrowly mirror your panic, his eyes wide as he searched desperately to find a way to calm you down. He had never seen you in such a state, nor anyone else for the matter, and felt the sting of tears gather in his eyes.

"Please, speak to me," he beseeched, voice thick with fear. "I've no clue how to help you."

Your pacing ceased when your slippered foot caught on the misplaced leg of a stool, falling to the ground with a strangled yelp that Cannibal seemed to mimic. Aegon took this time to fall onto the floor next to you, gathering you into his arms as you flailed and booted like a lamb stolen from its Mother. Before he could think better of it, Aegon slapped his hand over your mouth, recalling how he saw a stableboy do that with a spooked colt.

You squirmed and wriggled like a wounded rabbit caught in a snare, screaming like one into his palm as your blunt nails scratched across his cheek. Aegon ignored the stinging, using every ounce of strength he accumulated from training, brawling, and fucking to hold you down, nearly escaping him twice before he laid you underneath him, arm wrapped around your stomach on the icy stone floor. He pinned you there until your struggling ceased, the rapid flaring of your nostrils coming to a halt.

When Cannibal's midnight wings flapped in the air, Aegon knew you were calm, feeling secure enough to release you with the gentle draw of his hands. He let you rest there for what felt like ages, scrutinizing every involuntary twitch of your muscles lest he have to repeat himself. The call of Arbor Red was firm in his veins, but he disregarded it, shuffling until his back hit something to rest on.

The first words out of your mouth were not what he expected, sounding so small and defeated, causing him to pause before he understood briefly. "I must fix my hair before Princess Helaena arrives. Do you have a brush?"

Aegon silently nodded before he realized you could not see him, your cheek still pressed into the floor and facing away. "Yes," he answered aloud, bumbling over to his rarely used oak vanity.

He handed the silver brush as you sat upright and took apart your maids' handy work, fixing the style into something more straightforward and placing the pearl pins accordingly. Aegon observed with caution, keeping at least ten paces from you as if you were a rabid beast. You didn't fault him for it, nor dislike it, simply too numb to feel.

"Is it all right?" You startled Aegon, him taking a moment to realize that you were speaking.

"Of course," he nodded eagerly though you couldn't see, and you hummed in assent.

"The servants should be near done setting the table. We should wait for Helaena and the children there," you stated blandly, rising from your kneeled position and smoothing your dress.

Aegon agreed noiselessly, leading you to his solar as cautiously as he could, watching for any sign that he might lose you again, but there weren't any. Ony the cold countenance of apathy that he had only seen once before when staring at the severed head of your kin. The expression haunted him to this day, guilt rising in his throat like the burning feeling of acid, taking an armchair a respectable distance away.

Masterlist of Series

Once again, I'd like to thank you for your patience during my break. I lived in my George R. R. Martin era, but don't worry; this series won't take 27+ years to finish XD. For some reason, this post won't let me upload my full taglist, so I did it as a reblog in case you wondered why it's different. According to my idea chart, we're a little under halfway through the story, but honestly, it doesn't even feel like it. There are so many things ahead. It's just mind-boggling. Like, there's one point where shit hits the fan, and it's like, "whaaaat". I want to spoil it because it's crazy, but I shall keep my lips sealed. Anyway, thank you so much for reading this chapter and continuing this journey with me!!

Also, did you like my Miss Congeniality reference hidden in there? XD

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