#Scene heavy metal sister

[agenderdeathray]

[dark-fics-4-you]

In the Night

dark!Ghostface!stepbro!Rafe x f!Reader w a side of JJ x Reader

READ ENTIRE WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING

Warnings: noncon (rape), incest (step siblings), murder, major character death, p in v smut, lowkey yandere themes, knife kink, blood kink, unprotected sex, creampie, Rafe is very obsessed with his little step sister (everyone is 18+)

You cowered behind the car, trying to quiet your shivering sobs. Your mind was racing, barely able to hold onto any thought other than the ghastly scene you had just been forced into.

For months, a masked killer had been terrorizing Kildare and tonight you came face to face with him.

Only to realize that you had been living with him for half of your life.

For the most part, it had been a night like any other, JJ had taken you out on a little dinner date before bringing you back to his house.

You had been dating for several months at this point, a fact that your stepfather, Ward, begrudgingly accepted, but your stepbrother seemed to harbor more resentment towards him than any of the other Pogues.

Just before you had left, Rafe had gotten into yet another argument with you about him, although he had never been so aggressive with you about it before.

“He’s not good enough for you, Y/N! You know he’s just going to get you into trouble.” Your older step brother scolded you.

“Maybe he’d stay out of trouble if you and your gang didn’t bring it to him all the time,” you sniped back, pushing past him to get to the door.

You were interrupted when his hand clamped down hard around your arm just above your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you seriously trying to walk away from me right now?” Rafe growled as he turned to you, his hold still tight on your arm.

“Yeah, I am, JJ is out front waiting for me. Now let go of me, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, a familiar yet unrecognizable glint in his blue eyes. He scanned your face for a moment, tension heavy in the air, before finally reluctantly releasing your arm with a huff.

“Just uh… stay safe, okay, Y/N? You know how dangerous it’s been recently.” You could have sworn you saw a small smirk on his face before you turned to exit.

When you and JJ got back to his place after dinner, the two of you had just gotten out of the car when you heard him yell.

You turned to see a large figure wearing the same ghost face mask you had seen all over the news holding your boyfriend at knifepoint, the blade pressed into his throat.

JJ struggled against him for a moment, but he flinched when the man dug the sharp metal in just a bit.

“Stop fighting, or she dies next.” The man hissed, his familiar voice stopping you in your tracks as you raced around the car to them.

You were several feet away from them but too petrified to move.

“Stop!” You cried out, tears burning at your eyes. You felt terrified and helpless, unable to take your gaze off of your boyfriend.

The masked man ignored you, continuing to speak to JJ, “you don’t deserve Y/N, you know? She’s too good to be with a filthy Pogue like you.”

His words washed over you like a bucket of cold water as you finally recognized his voice and you wanted to be sick.

Your lips parted to beg with him, don't do this, please, don't hurt him don't hurt him!

At the flinch of his wrist, it was too late. You knew it. The blade glinted as it slid across JJ's neck, and you finally found your voice as a cascade of crimson followed its arc and JJ fell to ground.

You screamed as you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You wanted to collapse, and you probably would have if not for the sound of the killer’s horribly recognizable laughter drawing closer.

In the darkness, you turned, stumbling to the ground painfully before picking yourself up again and running before crouching behind the car JJ had been fixing up.

The chilly autumn air made you shiver and your vision was blurred by your tears.

You still hadn’t gotten over your shock when you heard your name being called.

“Y/N,” he taunted, voice getting closer with each step.

Your heart was thundering in your ears so loudly you were scared he could hear it.

“Just come out now and I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He was on the other side of the car now and you felt your stomach clench in terror.

Your eyes widened when he walked around the car, easily spotting you crouched near the back door.

When he ran towards you, you opened the back car door, blocking him momentarily as you climbed in, planning to slide across and run out the other side.

Your fingertips reached for the door handle, but large hand gripped your legs, pulling you back towards him. Flipping onto your back, you tried to kick him off, desperately scratching at his arms with your your nails at the same time.

The man pinned you beneath him, cackling at your pathetic attempts to fight back. In your panic, you grabbed at his face, pulling his mask off at the same moment his bloodied knife came to your throat.

You froze beneath him, staring up into your step brother’s eyes in shock and horror.

“Rafe?” You whispered, tears spilling past your lashes. “Why?”

A sickening grin spread across his lips as he leered above you. “Didn’t I always tell you, sweetheart? JJ isn’t good enough for you. He didn’t know you like I do.”

His free hand came to your cheek, stroking it lovingly and accidentally smearing JJ’s blood across your skin.

“Stop it!” You whimpered, nausea bubbling up in your gut as the coppery scent hit your nostrils. “You’re insane!”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at that, anger darkening his eyes. He drew so close you could feel his breath against your skin, “I’m just trying to protect you-”

“Protect me?!” You hissed, tears streaming down your cheeks now.

Rafe’s nose twitched, frustration written all over his face.

“You don’t get it,” he mumbled, eyes leaving your face and trailing down your chest. “But I’ll show you.”

Rafe removed the large blade from your throat, grabbing the bottom of your shirt before slicing it down the middle.

You whimpered beneath him, trying to cover yourself up, but his knife found your throat again, pressing down slightly.

“Don’t make me hurt you too,” he threatened, his low voice making your stomach twist.

His pupils were blown wide as he took you in.

“No bra?” He grinned wickedly, “guess my lil sis is more of a slut than I expected.”

“Rafe,” you pleaded, voice breaking through your tears as you looked up at him. “Please, I’m scared.”

He groaned at that, pressing closer and you shuddered at the feel of him growing harder against you. You squirmed when his large hand cupped over your tit, squeezing your nipple between two fingers and drawing a whine from your throat.

His lips smothered yours, hungrily tasting you and taking your breath away. With the cold metal at your throat, there was nowhere to turn to get away from him. Nausea churned inside you when he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away finally and put the knife down on the floor to unbuckle his belt, fumbling with his button and zipper before freeing his erect cock from his boxers, not even bothering to push his pants down.

At the sight of your step brother stroking his hard dick above you, your tears started flowing again, disgust and horror mixing with a third emotion you were too ashamed to identify.

Rafe forced your thighs apart, pushing your skirt up to reveal your pink panties.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, pressing his thumb to your covered clit. You squirmed in his grasp, biting your lip to stop your whimpers from escaping.

“Can’t wait anymore,” he breathed through gritted teeth, grabbing your panties and sliding them to the side before lining his tip up with your slick entrance.

“Stop, Rafe-!” your protest was cut off when your step brother pushed himself inside you, stretching your unprepared cunt around him.

You whined loudly, heart skipping a beat when his hand wrapped around your throat, smearing the blood from the knife across your tender skin.

He stilled above you for a moment, taking a shaky breath as he basked in the feeling of your snug walls squeezing around him, tighter than he could have imagined. He inched himself deeper until his tip kissed your cervix.

Rafe leaned closer to you, his lips covering your before he began slowly thrusting into you, increasing his pace with each push of his cock.

You mewled against his lips, confused and disgusted with yourself when you could feel yourself growing wetter around him.

He broke the kiss and you gasped for breath, only for his grip to tighten around your throat.

There was nowhere to go, and Rafe easily caged you in on top of the leather seats of car. You felt claustrophobic, overstimulated by the feel of him rutting into you in the cramped backseat.

The lewd sound of his cock plunging into your slick cunt taunted you, and you couldn’t control the pornographic moans that he was forcing out of you.

His thrusts were brutal, bordering on punishing at this point, and his fingers were squeezing around your neck so tight your vision was becoming fuzzy at the edges.

“Rafe-!” You choked, hot tears burning at your eyes.

The world was spinning around you, the pressure building between your legs. You grabbed onto Rafe, clinging to him tightly in your confusion.

“Tell me you love me,” he groaned, not slowing his pace at all as his thumb found your clit, messily rolling over it.

Your skin crawled at his words, stomach flipping as you nervously shook your head no, but you couldn’t bite back your moan as he teased your tender bud.

You knew that only pissed him off more though, and his grip on your throat tightened in warning.

“Tell your big brother you love him, dumb fucking slut.” He hissed, hitting a spot that made you see stars.

“I-” you whimpered before whispering. “I love you.”

He kissed you hard, growling as he pulled away and resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Tell me again, baby.”

His hips tilted to meet yours, pushing himself deep inside you with each thrust. His thumb lazily traced your clit, pulling you to the brink.

“I love you,” you moaned, primal desires overcoming your thoughts of resisting.

“Again.”

“I love you, fuck, Rafe!” you whimpered as you were pushed over the edge.

Blinding white light exploded behind your closed eyes as you came undone around him. Sinful pleasure tingled between your legs as he fucked you even harder, and he cursed as you squeezed around him.

You couldn’t think straight, much less control your mouth, and the endless string of “I love you Rafe”’s that rolled off your tongue was the reason it wasn’t long before your step brother was painting your walls with his sticky seed.

[ellabsweet]

[*ੈ✩] 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 • 𝐄.𝐖

synopsis: ellie williams was a firm follower of the bro code, having loyalty as her all time specialty despite being constantly tempted by the devil, or how others called her: her best friend’s sister.

pairing: bbf!ellie williams x reader

warning: sexual content and jealousy, a little bit of short ellie erasure for the sake of one scene but i am pretty sure that’s all there is to it! i love bbf!ellie i wish my brother had a best friend like her unfortunately life isn’t fair-

She’s enthralled by the videogame, tongue peaking out the side of her lips and eyebrows furrowed in pure concentration, the only things to break her out of trance being your brother’s eventual shit talking and elbow hitting that only made a smirk plaster her face, knowing to be winning, fingers steady on the controls.

“What the fuck” Your brother suddenly exclaims, and though ready to brag on about her streak something in his tone indicates it is not the game he was gagged about. Ellie follows his gaze straight onto a half naked blonde attempting to clothe herself by the kitchen on her way out. She recognized her, as lesbians did, Abby Anderson was on the hockey team of their community college and she wondered how in the world she were to know this house. It took you walking up behind her in somehow even littler clothes for it to dawn on her with a teeth clench.

“Abs, you forgot this” You point out handing her a sweatshirt which the girl accepted in flushed cheeks Ellie had never seen before from someone so infamous for sleeping around.

You weren’t a thing, Ellie knew that, fuck, she was the one who made sure of it, turning down your advances at every opportunity, but there was always something in the back of her mind that assumed you were waiting for her, a stupid thought, now that she thought it over. Her brain went red at the mental images her imagination refused to let go of, your moaning and desperation under somebody else’s touch, your taste in fuckgirl’s Abby Anderson’s tongue. If she were to clutch the videogame controller an ounce harder the metal would crush under her grasp. When you pecked her lips she was done for, distracted, on her way to losing for the next couple of hours while her best friend cursed on and on about how Abigail had been there basically every day that week.

She can practically hear you moaning Abby’s name in her head and it drives her insane. Ever since the first day your brother welcomed Ellie into his home and she set her sights on you it was as though all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs in one quick glance. The most beautiful girl she had ever seen, she concluded after seeing you smile. The most amazing girl she had ever met, she confirmed from all your late night conversations that became a habit from your shared insomnia and your brother’s heavy sleeping, there had been a time she’d ask to sleep over only anticipating your gossip and laughter, perfecting the cheesy dad jokes that were your favorite, attempting to convince herself it would be enough to be the girl that entertained you even if her chest ached in yearning for your lips pressed against hers. You had been distant the last couple of weeks, she felt it, but didn’t know why and you stalled every time when asked. Now she knew. And she hated it way more than anticipated. Like a rock heaving against her chest making it hard to breathe.

It was nighttime now and she shifted uncomfortably on the mattress by the floor, tossing and turning and holding in laughter from her best friend’s loud snores fast asleep in deep slumber. She played with the thought of going to your room as she usually would, but hesitated. It was still playing by her memories, your body in nothing but underwear when you had followed Abby out, every corner and crevasse of your skin looking so soft it made her ache. Her hands twitched as though wanting to reach out to you and only found her clothed pussy. She shook off the idea and stood up. Water, she thought, I’m only gonna go drink some water. But of course you were there too. Oversized t-shirt hiking up your body as you reached towards a tall shelf for a cup. Ellie reached in behind you and helped, settling the glass in your hands.

“Hi, Els” You said softly, shaking yourself loose of her overbearing stance behind you so you could walk towards the fridge for some chocolate milk, pouring it on.

“So, you and Abby. Are you like, a thing now?”

“Don’t start, Ellie. For someone who doesn’t fucking want me you sure are acting like a jealous girlfriend right now”

“For someone who doesn’t want you?” She scoffs in disbelief “Are you fucking stupid or something? Do you seriously not realize? I can’t fucking breathe when I’m around you, no actually screw that, it’s like I can’t fucking breathe when I’m not around you, like every time I make you laugh I’ve been drowning and can finally come up for air thanks to your stupid fucking smile and your stupid fucking sparkling eyes in your stupid fucking gorgeous face and then you parade around the house with stupid fucking Abigail Anderson and there’s a fucking bruise on your neck that I know she left there and I just want to sink my teeth in like a goddamn vampire and make one bigger to hide her claim on you and make it mine and-“

You crashed your lips against hers before she could continue. Her hands moving up to grab your hair, thumb caressing your cheeks and holding your face into place as though any gust of wind would make you fly away and loose her grip, she’s so mesmerized by you and your tongue inside her she moans into your mouth with barely any tension for it. It lasts a few more seconds before she pushes you away against all instincts.

“Stop, stop stop. I can’t. I can’t do this to your brother.”

“Fuck him”

“Baby…”

“Fuck me” You say and that’s enough to cloud all her judgment again. Ellie pushes you up against the kitchen cabinets and kisses you hungrier this time, hands coming up to stroke your exposed thighs before she latches onto them to push you up onto the counter, open mouthed kisses trailing down your neck until it reaches and Abby’s previous hickey and she bites down, a moan echoing from you and stopped by her hand over your mouth as she sucks down the sensitive skin and marks it darker.

“You’re going to be the death of me, fuck” She mumbles against your body, eyes darkening at the sight of the ever growing wet patch in the center of your underwear, she wastes no time to stroke it, harder and faster until she feels the liquid coating her fingers even against the fabric and sets your panties aside, looking up at you for reassurance you give with an enthusiastic nod before she dives her fingers in, moaning herself as she does so, feeling you clench around her hand “Fuck, you’re so pretty, I knew you’d feel so good, so fucking good around my fingers”

“Ellie, please” You beg with your head thrown backwards, eyes pressing shut from the pleasure she gave off circling your clit with her fingers in a way that ached your core “Please I want your mouth, I need it, I’m so fucking close-“

“What the fuck is going on here?” Ellie jumps away from you. She’s suddenly conscious and so are you, at the sight of your brother covering his eyes in disgust by the door.

[celestica-1988]

An headcanon for every Tokyo Revengers character. Some are funny, other are not.

Mikey favorite holiday is Halloween cause he can eat as many sweets as he wants and nobody can tell him shit.

Draken secretly wants to go to a spa with Emma. Draken babysits Toman, Emma takes care of the Sano household and they need to rest. He gets flustered if he thinks about sharing a bed with her or taking a bath together at the offsprings.

Baji feeds stray cats and others animals. Animals are naturally drawn to him for some reasons.

Chifuyu likes to watch TV programs of plane crashes. He dreams to be a pilot and he wants to learn how to avoid situations like the ones in the programs.

Takemichi started reading and watching thrillers in the hope they help him sharpen his ability to investigate

Kazutora still has nightmares of his father beating his mother.

Mitsuya keeps himself updated on what is popular amongs kids so he can sew cool things to his sisters like clothes or stuffed animal.

Hakkai is secretly learning Italian since he loves the Godfather series.

Taiju favorite film is Shark Tale.

Pahchin sleeps cuddling his dog.

Pehyan reads scientific books so he can came up with more witty come backs on Pahchin brain.

Angry is really loved by the elderly people in his neighborhood because he's always ready to help them in any way despite his grumpy face. One of the grannies taught him the perfect recipe for ramen.

Smiley is an hardcore naruhina shipper and won't hesitate to fight if someone insults his otp.

When Mucho saw Sanzu for the first time he thought he seemed like a stray cat. That's why he approached him with food aka cheesecake.

Sanzu would like to fix his relationship with Senju but he doesn't know how. Senju is always with Takeomi and he hates Takeomi. He's also scared that if he stops checking on Mikey, even for a second, something bad will happen to him and Shinichiro would have died in vain.

Kisaki has an album of pics of Hinata that he took when she didn't notice.

Hanma really loves movies with a lot of action and comments loud every scene of violence saying what he would have done instead if he was the protagonist.

Kokonoi talks about his days and his thoughts to a framed pic of Akane. He feels like she's still with him.

Inui plays guitar and he's interested in spiritism.

Izana throws darts to a Karen Kurokawa pic pinned on the wall because she ruined his life and his relationship with Emma and Shinichiro.

Kakucho shaves his hair by himself. He's not comfortable with people touching his scar.

Shion is unexpectedly good with children. He's a bit chaotic but overall a good babysitter.

Mochi is really good at cooking and he's proud of it.

Rindou started going to the gym because he was tired of being teased for his chubby cheeks. His guilty pleasure is eating Mac Donald food.

Ran loves 70s lamps, the one with bubbles that are moving up and down inside. They help him sleep.

South loves to dance Latin dances like samba, cha cha cha, rumba etc...

Wakasa has got some fishing trophies in his apartment.

Benkei appears as a tough guy but he loves to sleep with plushies.

Shinichiro has got an organizer that uses as his diary in which he writes his thoughts and notes all of his siblings birthdays.

Takeomi is always scolded by his relatives because of how he wasted his life, raised Haru to be a lunatic and ruined the relationship between Haru and Senju.

Hinata secretly trains in martial arts to help Takemichi, even though she knew he probably won't let her take part in a fight.

Emma often thinks at how good it would be if Izana lives with them. She wants him to have a family.

Yuzuha listen to heavy metal as a let out of her frustration for living with Taiju.

Senju sometimes wants to be adopted by Wakasa so she won't have Takeomi around and maybe Sanzu would visit her. She also hate Concordes.

[novaursa]

Hi

Can I have a fem!targ x daemon Targaryen

she’s Rheanyra younger sister. During the first tournament she got engaged with one of the Lannister twins. But when Daemon heard that a came back to have her.

You know the scene between him and viserys after he found out about the whorehouse. What if it was him and her, and when he ask for her hand he threatened to burn the whole kingdom

Bound by Fire and Blood

Requests are closed!

- Summary: When your father, Viserys, gives your hand to Tyland Lannister, your uncle takes what is his.

- Paring: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: The reader is younger trueborn sister of Rhaenyra. I've also put in information you have provided that is important only for this scene. The other things were left out. I hope you don't mind.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The echo of footsteps fills the throne room as Daemon is dragged before the Iron Throne. The guards flanking him hold their breath, sensing the tension that crackles in the air like wildfire. You stand off to the side, your heart pounding in your chest as if it might burst free.

Viserys' face is a mask of fury, a deep vein throbbing at his temple as he glares down at his younger brother, seated upon the cold metal of the Iron Throne. The silence is heavy, the kind that swallows everything whole. You feel as though you might be suffocating beneath the weight of it all, your hands trembling at your sides.

"Explain yourself," Viserys' voice booms, shattering the silence like a hammer on glass. His eyes flash with rage, the hurt behind them barely concealed. "What madness drove you to take my daughter—my second-born daughter—into a den of filth?"

Daemon smirks, not in the least bit remorseful, his dark eyes gleaming with something wild. “Madness?” he repeats, voice rich with mockery. “I would not call it madness, brother.”

You feel your throat tighten. He doesn't shy away from it. You knew he wouldn’t. Daemon Targaryen never bows, never apologizes. He is fire itself, untamable, dangerous.

Viserys’ hand tightens on the arm of the throne, knuckles turning white as he leans forward, his voice a low growl. “You brought my daughter into the whorehouses of the lower city! My blood! My own flesh—” His voice cracks with barely-contained anger, and it’s all you can do to keep standing where you are, your gaze locked on Daemon. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear of it? That I wouldn’t know what you’ve done?”

Otto Hightower lingers nearby, his cold, calculating eyes watching the exchange with barely hidden satisfaction. He had been the one to tell Viserys of your indiscretion, relishing in the chaos he knew it would bring.

Daemon’s smirk widens. "I didn’t think you wouldn’t hear, brother. I simply didn’t care.”

You hold your breath, feeling the weight of his words crash down like waves against stone. Viserys rises from the throne, his face pale with anger.

"How dare you!" he bellows. "My daughter is to be wed to Tyland Lannister. A match befitting her station—a match I arranged for her! And you… you take her to some—some pleasure house?"

Daemon steps forward, uncaring of the guards who shift nervously at his side. His posture is lazy, but there’s a coiled power in the way he moves, like a predator circling prey. "Tyland Lannister is no man for her. He is weak, unworthy of her, and you know it, Viserys. I did what had to be done. I claimed her, just as our ancestors claimed their own. She is mine, by right."

Your heart races. The words echo through the chamber, each syllable dripping with intent. The air feels thicker, harder to breathe. You knew what he would say, but hearing it aloud still sends a shiver down your spine. Claimed.

Viserys' face twists in fury. "She is not yours! You defiled her in front of everyone—debased her in the eyes of the realm! And now you demand her hand? Are you mad, Daemon? You would ruin her—our family’s honor—for your own selfish desires?"

Daemon’s eyes flash with something fierce, something raw and ancient. He does not falter. "Our family’s honor?" He scoffs, letting out a short, bitter laugh. "This is our family’s tradition, brother. She is of Targaryen blood, and our blood binds us stronger than any Lannister gold or promises." His voice lowers, but it loses none of its intensity. "I will marry her, as is our custom. In the traditions of House Targaryen."

“No,” Viserys says sharply, shaking his head. “No. I will not allow it.”

Daemon takes another step forward, closer now, his presence filling the room. His eyes narrow, dark and dangerous. "You will allow it, Viserys. Or I will mount Caraxes, and I will burn this city to the ground."

The room seems to freeze, the threat hanging in the air like smoke. Viserys’ face drains of color, his mouth slightly open, as if he cannot believe what he’s hearing. But you believe it. You know Daemon means every word.

The silence that follows feels like a held breath. The guards shift uneasily, eyes darting between the king and his brother, unsure of what to do. Even Otto, always so composed, looks taken aback, his brow furrowed in thought.

Finally, Viserys speaks, his voice lower now, but no less filled with anger. "You would destroy everything for her? You would kill, burn, and ruin for her?"

Daemon’s gaze flickers to you, just for a moment, and something softens in his expression. "Yes."

The single word is spoken with such conviction that it steals the breath from your lungs. You feel as though the ground beneath your feet has vanished, leaving you weightless and dizzy. You never asked for this, for any of it. But in Daemon’s eyes, there is no regret. Only fire.

Viserys shakes his head, looking away from his brother as if the sight of him disgusts him. "You are insane," he mutters, voice broken. “You’ve always been insane.”

But Daemon only smiles, a sharp, predatory grin. "Perhaps. But you will give her to me, brother. You have no choice."

You feel the tension coil tighter and tighter until you fear it might snap. Viserys seems on the edge of collapse, torn between his love for you, his duty as king, and his revulsion for Daemon’s actions.

Finally, with a voice that is barely a whisper, he speaks.

“Get out,” Viserys says, his voice hoarse. “Both of you. I cannot look at either of you right now.”

Daemon’s eyes linger on Viserys for a moment longer before he turns, striding out of the room without a backward glance, the guards barely able to keep up. You hesitate, but as you move to follow, you catch the broken look on your father’s face, the hurt buried beneath the fury.

But there is no turning back now.

As you walk beside Daemon, the weight of your decision presses down on you. Your uncle will have you, no matter the cost.

And the flames will rise higher than ever before.

[kckt88]

ñuhon naejot gūrogon.

Summary:

In the aftermath of Rooks Rest, a King's life hangs in the balance and Aemond reveals his true intentions.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Langauage, Disagreements, Vulnerability, Confessions, Brother/Sister Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Loss of Virginity, P in V, Breeding Kink.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C SISTER.

A.N - ñuhon naejot gūrogon - Mine to take.

Word Count: 4645

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Daena sat quietly at the bedside of her older brother Aegon. The room was dimly lit by the flickering flames of several candles, casting long shadows on the stone walls.

The scent of burning incense filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the faint, pungent odour of burnt flesh.

Aegon lay on the grand canopy bed, his body broken and battered from the battle of Rook’s Rest. His once-proud form was now a fragile shell, swathed in bandages and ointments.

Most of the skin on the left side of his body was severely burned, a patchwork of raw, angry red and blistering black. His breaths came shallow and ragged, each exhalation a reminder of his tenuous grip on life.

The maesters had worked tirelessly since his return, their faces etched with exhaustion and worry.

They had done all they could, setting his broken bones and applying salves to his burns, finally dosing him heavily with milk of the poppy to numb the pain.

Now, all they could do was wait and pray.

Daena reached out and gently took her brother’s hand in hers. His skin was clammy and cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from his wounds. She squeezed his hand lightly, her heart aching with a mixture of love and sorrow.

Aegon was far from perfect; he had made many mistakes, and committed many sins, but he was still her brother, and she loved him.

Her violet eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she watched him, hoping he could sense her presence, feel her unwavering support. The once-vibrant King now lay vulnerable and fragile, and Daena’s heart ached for him.

“I’m here, Aegon. Please, hold on.”

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Daena glanced up to see her other brother, Aemond, enter the room. His tall figure was framed by the dim light from the corridor, casting a long shadow into the room.

He walked silently to the foot of Aegon’s bed and placed his hands on the wooden frame, his one eye, sharp and calculating, observing the scene before him.

Daena remained seated, her hand still holding Aegon’s, her gaze never leaving their wounded brother. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words and long-held grudges.

After a few minutes, Aemond finally broke the silence.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Daena’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Let me guess, that will be you.”

Aemond’s expression remained impassive. “That will be for the council to decide on who will take on the duties of ruling the realm.”

Daena scoffed, her eyes flashing with defiance. “There is no one else but you. Even though Helaena is Queen, we cannot have a woman rule lest we be labelled as hypocrites, as we can’t forget the reason why Aegon was crowned instead of our older sister”

Aemond’s gaze remained steady, but there was a flicker of something—irritation, perhaps—behind his eye. Daena continued; her voice sharp with accusation.

"So, whose idea was it to parade the severed head of Meleys through the streets of King's Landing?"

"It was Ser Criston Cole’s idea," Aemond replied, a note of defensiveness in his tone.

"And you allowed it," Daena said, her eyes blazing with anger. "How could you let the symbol of our house be desecrated in such an appalling manner? Not even Maegor the Cruel would have resorted to such measures."

"It was to show strength" Aemond argued, his voice rising slightly.

Daena laughed bitterly. "-I very much doubt it. The only thing you’ve done is sow the seeds of rebellion amongst the smallfolk- that the power of the dragons isn't infinite"

Aemond's face grew taut, a mixture of frustration and anger. "It was necessary”

"For whom exactly-” Daena countered. "Rooks Rest cannot be counted as a victory. Sunfyre is gravely injured, and Aegon may never recover-how do you know that our sister will not have her dragons descend upon us”

“We have dragons too” replied Aemond.

“As I said, Sunfyre is injured-so he’s out, and I don’t exactly foresee Helaena riding into battle on the back of Dreamfyre-all we have is Vhagar and Silverwing”

“Tessarion?”

“A fledgling dragon with no battle experience and a rider who’s been sheltered at Oldtown for so long that he practically doesn’t exist”

“Daera-” sighed Aemond.

“It’s all worked out rather nicely for you, hasn’t it? Now that Aegon is incapable of ruling, you’re ever closer to getting what you want.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “What exactly are you implying?”

Daena finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a cold, hard stare. “You know exactly what I’m implying,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

She pressed a kiss to Aegon’s hand, her touch gentle and full of sorrow. Then she rose from her seat, her gown rustling softly in the silence.

As she moved to leave the room, Aemond followed her, his steps echoing hers. The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, leaving the room in silence once more, the only sound the faint, laboured breathing of the broken king.

Daena strode into her chambers, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and sorrow. Aemond followed closely behind, shutting the door with a decisive click and turning the key to lock it.

The sound echoed ominously in the room, filled with the faint scent of lavender and the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window.

Daena whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing with accusation. “Did you do it?” she demanded, her voice low and fierce. “Were you the one who attacked Aegon?”

Aemond’s face contorted with a mix of hurt and anger. “How could you ask me that?”

Daena’s gaze remained unyielding. “I’m not a fool, Aemond. I know you’ve always believed Aegon was unfit to rule. That he’s a wastrel who’s never taken any interest in his birthright. Meanwhile, you, ever the good soldier, has spent hours training with the sword, studying history and philosophy. Aegon has had everything handed to him while you, the second son, have received nothing.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his eye flashing with barely contained fury. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be teased for being different? To be a Targaryen without a dragon?”

Daena’s expression softened slightly but remained firm. “I was once without a dragon too and it was only because of Aegon that I managed to claim Silverwing. Do you not remember how furious Mother had been when she found out?”

Daena’s mind going back to that day, oh how wonderful it had been. Aegon had taken her flying on Sunfyre, and they had snuck onto Dragonstone, their older sister left unaware as the two of them entered the dragon mount.

Aegon had been so proud of her when she claimed Silverwing, their mother-not so much. She had slapped Aegon to within an inch of his life, shouting and screaming about how he had been so reckless.

Their father had been indifferent to the whole situation, his wheezing breath may have whispered proud sentiments, but his heart and his mind were never present, not for them anyway. That was exclusively reserved for his precious Rhaenyra.

Aemond’s lips twisted into a mocking smile, and he began to clap slowly, the sound filled with derision. “Well done, sister. You were one of the lucky few to escape Aegon’s teasing japes and drunken slobbering.”

Daena’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer to Aemond, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think you’re so much better than him, don’t you? You think you deserve the throne more than he does. Tell me dear brother, why do you deserve it?”

Aemond’s face hardened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence, the air thick with the weight of their unspoken grievances.

Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and measured. “I am what this realm needs, Daena. A ruler who is strong, who is capable. Aegon has shown time and again that he is not fit for the crown.”

Daena shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “And what makes you think you’re worthy? Because you can swing a sword, recite ancient texts and ride the largest dragon in the world? There’s more to ruling than that, Aemond. There’s compassion, wisdom, and the ability to see beyond one’s own ambition.”

As Aemond turned to leave the room, Daena’s voice cut through the silence, stopping him in his tracks.

“Do you ever feel guilty?”

Aemond froze, his hand still on the door handle. He turned slowly to face her, his expression guarded. “What?”

Daena took a deep breath, her voice trembling with emotion. “For killing Luke. For what happened to Jaehaerys. You were responsible for it. Your actions led to the death of an innocent child. How can you even dare to look Helaena in the face, knowing that it's your fault? That you’re the reason she lost her son, why Aegon lost his son?”

Aemond’s face contorted with rage as Daena’s words hit him like a blow. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eye burned with a fierce intensity.

“Do you know they came here for you that night?” Daena continued, her voice steady despite the tempest brewing in the room. “But they couldn’t find you, so they took Jaehaerys’ life instead.”

Aemond’s expression darkened further, his jaw tightening. “Where were you that night, Aemond?” Daena pressed, her eyes piercing his. “-What were you doing?”

Aemond remained silent, his face a mask of defiance.

Daena’s gaze softened, tinged with sadness. “I know exactly where you were” she admitted quietly.

Aemond’s eye widened in surprise and anger. “If you already knew, then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see if you would lie,” Daena replied, her voice tinged with regret. “After all it’s not exactly something you’d want everyone to know about, given your open disdain for Aegon’s repeated visits to the whores on the Street of Silk.”

Aemond’s face flushed with fury and humiliation. “Let me guess, Aegon told you, and the two of you had a good laugh at my expense.”

“Aegon did tell me,” Daena said softly, shaking her head. “But I didn’t find it amusing. If anything, I found it quite sad. That you have to resort to such a place to find the comfort and love you’ve been denied-”

Aemond’s anger flared even hotter. “I am not weak!” he spat, his voice trembling with rage.

Daena took a step closer, her eyes filled with empathy. “Seeking comfort doesn’t make you weak, Aemond”.

“Y-You wouldn’t understand-”

Daena took a deep breath, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Tell me the truth, Aemond. Did you deliberately harm Aegon at Rook’s Rest?”

Aemond’s expression hardened, his eye narrowing. “Aegon shouldn’t have been there in the first fucking place,” he replied, his voice cold and dismissive. “But he interfered and suffered the consequences.”

Daena shook her head in disbelief, her eyes filled with hurt and anger. “You’ve been plotting with Cole behind Aegon’s back and undermining his authority in the council meetings. The only reason you have a place on that council is because Aegon granted it to you, he thought he could trust you and this is how you repay him? By attacking him with Vhagar and grasping for his crown?”

Aemond’s face twisted with a mix of rage and frustration. “Aegon is weak. He’s never been fit to rule. I did what needed to be done.”

“What’s next, Aemond?” Daena demanded, her voice rising. “Are you going to take Helaena as well-”

Aemond's face twisted in rage, and he stepped forward, his voice rising. "No!” His hands clenched into fists, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "She is not the sister I desire"

Daena's eyes widened, and she took a step back, her heart pounding. "W-What?"

Aemond’s face was a mask of conflicting emotions: anger, longing, and something darker. "You think I plot and scheme only for power? You think I care only for the crown? You're wrong. I want you, Daena. I've always wanted you. And I will take you, just as I have taken everything else that was denied to me."

Daena backed away from Aemond, as she watched him remove the belt that held his weapons in place, the loud clang of metal upon stone as it slid from his hands and hit the floor made her jump.

His fingers quickly occupying themselves with removing the bandolier strap before moving onto his green leather riding jacket.

"This isn’t you. The brother I knew would never hurt our family like this. Please, Aemond, let it go”

Aemond's expression was a tumult of emotions—anger, longing, and something darker. He moved closer to her, his presence overwhelming, and reached out to gently place his hand on the back of her neck. He pressed their foreheads together, his breath warm against her skin.

"Kostilus lēkia," Daena whispered, her voice trembling. (Please, brother)

Aemond smiled, a chilling blend of affection and possession in his gaze. "Ao issi ñuhon, se nyke jāhor emagon ao," he murmured. (You are mine, and I will have you).

Daena shook her head, her heart pounding as she tried to back away from Aemond. But he wouldn’t let her, his voice dropping to a whisper, his words caressing her ear.

"I may have one eye, but I'm not blind. I see the way you look at me. I know you desire me the same way I desire you." He leaned even closer, his breath warm against her skin.

"Aemond-"

"Tepagon isse dōna mandia, se nyke jāhor gūrogon ao hae issa ābrazȳrys, se mazverdagon ao issa dāria” (Give in, sweet sister, and I will take you as my wife, and make you my Queen).

Daena's heart ached with a confusing mix of emotions. "It's wrong, Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Aemond's smirk was both confident and predatory. "How can it be wrong when it feels so right?"

Daena's mind raced, searching for something to anchor herself. "What about your promise to marry Floris Baratheon?"

Aemond's smirk widened into a grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eye. "A boar is no match for a dragon."

Before she could respond, he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss searing and insistent.

Daena pulled away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. But the intensity of his kiss, the depth of his longing, was too much to resist.

With a soft moan, she gave in, winding her arms around his neck and kissing him back passionately.

Aemond’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his kisses growing more fervent.

Aemond's kisses grew more insistent, his hands roaming over Daena's back as he slowly backed them towards the bed. Their lips never parted; each kiss more fervent than the last. Daena's breath hitched as she felt his long fingers deftly begin to untie the laces of her dress.

As the laces came undone, Aemond's hands brushed against her bare skin. Daena shivered at his touch, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

When the back of her legs touched the edge of the bed, Aemond paused for a moment, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Daena’s answer was in her eyes, in the way she pulled him closer, her fingers threading through his hair. "Yes," she breathed.

Aemond smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual intensity. He leaned down, capturing her lips once more as he guided her onto the bed. His hands moved with purpose, sliding the dress from her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin to the cool air and his burning touch.

Daena’s hands found their way to Aemond’s own clothing, eager to remove the barriers between them.

Once she had removed the out layers of his clothing, her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. Aemond groaned softly at her touch, his lips trailing down her neck as he pressed her back against the soft sheets.

Aemond positioned himself above her, his expression a mixture of vulnerability and determination.

Daena’s breath caught in her throat as she gently cupped his face with her hands. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture of his scar, a reminder of the pain and loss he had endured.

Slowly, she slipped off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire he had placed where his eye once was.

With tenderness, Daena leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. Her lips lingered there, as if trying to heal the wounds that had marred his flesh and his soul. She felt Aemond’s sharp intake of breath, a moment of pure vulnerability passing between them.

Her fingers moved to the tie that bound his long, silver hair. With a gentle tug, she undid it, and his hair cascaded down, framing his chiselled face. Daena smiled as she ran her fingers through the silken strands, marvelling at his beauty.

“So beautiful,” whispered Daera, her voice filled with affection.

Aemond’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to something more tender, more real. He lowered himself closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. His hand came up to rest against her cheek, his thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“Daena,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"Aemond," she began softly, her voice trembling, "Will I be enough for you? I cannot love you if you seek out others."

Aemond's expression softened, and he stroked her cheek "My visits to Sylvi are over. I won't go back there anymore. I promise-"

Daena smiled and silenced him with a gentle kiss. Aemond responded with a fervour that matched her own, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

“My love-my sweetest-” whispered Aemond as he pulled away and descended down her body, kissing and nipping at her skin as he went.

“W-What are you doing?”

“I want to kiss you-here” replied Aemond as he pressed forward and ran his tongue over her warm wet folds.

She bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to slowly tease her entrance.

“None of that. I want to hear how good I make you feel” growled Aemond as he began moving his tongue against her, in rhythm with his fingers.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Daena, as she writhed against the sheets.

“That’s it-such a good girl for me” growled Aemond.

“OH-” whimpered Daena, as Aemond continued to move his tongue and fingers over her centre.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen. Come for me” whispered Aemond, his tongue moving across her pearl.

Daena arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond slowly crawled up her body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Daena blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself issa zaldrīzes” muttered Aemond, as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth, sucking off her slick. (My dragon).

Goosebumps erupted over Daena’s skin as Aemond removed his hand from his mouth and then took hold of her breast, his fingers gently teasing her rosy bud.

“W-What are you doing?” asked Daena as Aemond’s hand slid down her body and began teasing her folds.

“I-I need to prepare you a little more” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Daena.

“You are a maiden-I don’t want to hurt you” replied Aemond.

“Aemond” exclaimed Daena as he slowly slipped a finger inside her, the slick from her first peak easing the way.

Aemond buried his face in Daena’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger, moving them in and out slowly.

“So warm-so wet for me” rasped Aemond, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“I-I think I’m ready” whispered Daena.

Aemond removed his fingers and then moved between her open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against her slick entrance.

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes-” replied Daena as she felt him running his cock along her entrance.

“Y-You must tell me if it hurts” whispered Aemond.

Daena nodded and shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

“Your doing so well-” muttered Aemond trying to control himself.

“I-It h-hurts-“ whimpered Daena, the burning sensation bringing tears to her eyes.

“If it’s too much I can pull out-” offered Aemond.

“N-No just give me a moment” replied Daena softly as the tears ran down her cheeks.

Aemond leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks, his tongue catching her fallen tears.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Daena sighed in relief. 

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-I think you can move now” whispered Daena her hands running along the smooth plans of Aemond’s back.

Slowly Aemond withdrew and then moved forward, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Are you ok?” repeated Aemond as he thrust inside her.

“Y-yes-I think you can move faster”.

Aemond rested his head in the crook of her neck as he thrusts faster, his moans muffled against her skin.

“Ooh Aemond-that feels good” whined Daena.

“Your perfect-” whispered Aemond.

Feeling a spark of pleasure Daena dug her fingers into Aemonds back, holding him close.

“P-please Aemond. F-faster. H-harder” exclaimed Daena.

“Daera-” moaned Aemond as he began to pound into her, his hips slapping against hers.

“-I-I f-feel-” whimpered Daena, an odd sensation creeping across her stomach.

“-Let it happen-my sweetest, peak for me” exclaimed Aemond.

“DON’T STOP-PLEASE”

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it” muttered Aemond as he slipped his hand between their bodies and slowly began rubbing her pearl.

“AEMOND” screamed Daena as her peak exploded, making her entire body shake.

Aemond stopped, and rested for a moment as he allowed Daena’s peak to subside, his teeth grazing her shoulder.

“Did you enjoy that?” asked Aemond his voice quiet and raspy.

“Yes” replied Daena, fidgeting as she felt his hard length twitching inside her.

“Good-” said Aemond as he withdrew and quickly manoeuvred Daena onto all fours.

“What are you doing?”

“Now-I’m going to fuck you until you scream” said Aemond, delighting in the way Daena began nodding and whimpering as she pushed herself backwards against him.

“P-Please-Lēkia” whispered Daera (Brother).

“FUCK” groaned Aemond as he took his cock in hand and began rubbing it along Daena’s wet folds.

“Please. I want it-I want you, please don’t make me wait anymore” begged Daena.

“Fuck, that’s it” moaned Aemond his hard length filling her cunny in one smooth stroke.

“God. Yes. Aemond” sighed Daena.

He began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

Aemond marvelled at her body. Such a beautiful, succulent thing his sister was. Allowing him entry into the most sacred parts of her body.

He was her first and he would be her only. There would be no others.

Aemond began to fuck her in earnest, plunging his cock into her cunny over and over, thrilling to hear Daena’s moans of need echoing around the room.

Bracing her arms, she pushed against him so he could shove his cock in. Harder and faster, his fingers digging into her hips.

Aemond felt his stones draw in; his peak was fast approaching. Gods he wanted to keep going, the feeling of her tight wet heat wrapped around him was just otherworldly.

But he supposed he could always take her again; he knew it wouldn’t take long after he spilled his seed for him to be ready once more.

He planned to take her many times, he needed to ensure that his seed had a chance to take root.

He couldn’t wait to see her all round and swollen with his child, for everyone to know that it was his son that she carried inside of her.

Part of him and her together-nourished by her mother’s body, her milk swollen breasts-fuck he could feel it building, he was going to spill, he was going to fill her up.

But he didn’t want to, not like this, he wanted to see her face.

Aemond quickly withdrew, ignoring Daena’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going to give you my seed-see you all round and swollen with my child- moaned Aemond.

“Yes-yes. Aemond. I want it-” babbled Daena as his thrusts became more frantic.

“Fuck-” groaned Aemond as he felt the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-Aemond” whimpered Daena.

“ñuhon, ry ñuhon” moaned Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time, his cock throbbing as he spilled rope after rope of his seed (Mine, all mine).

“Ry aōhon” whispered Daena, as Aemond rested on top of her (All yours).

“A-Are you ok?”  Aemond as he gently pulled his softened cock from Daena, he looked down and saw the mixture of his seed and her maidens blood dripping onto the sheet.

Daena nodded slowly, as she allowed him to enfold her in his arms and hold her close.

As they lay together in the dim light of Daena's chambers, their bodies entwined and their hearts beating in sync, a sense of peace settled over them. Daena's head rested on Aemond's chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his skin. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken promises of their newfound bond.

After a while, Daena broke the silence, her voice a soft whisper. "What will we do now, Aemond?"

Aemond's arm tightened around her, his gaze thoughtful as he stared at the ceiling. "First, I will wait for the council to name me regent. Once I have their backing, I will declare my intentions to marry you"

Daena lifted her head to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and concern. "And what about the war?”

Aemond's expression hardened, a determined fire lighting up his eye. "I will make plans with Cole. We will see an end to this war and to Rhaenyra and her brood of bastards”

"What about Aegon? If he recovers, he will no doubt resume his place upon the Iron Throne."

Aemond's face darkened for a moment, but then a small, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. "Yes—if," he replied, the word hanging heavily in the air.

Daena's heart clenched, and she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle a sob. The reality of what she done crashed over her like a wave.

She had given into Aemond, and by doing that, she had set herself against Aegon.

Aemond noticed her distress and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Don’t worry my love, all will be well in the end-you’ll see”

Daena smiled slightly, but deep down inside, a part of her realised that she had just made a terrible mistake.

The monster had been unleashed and she had no idea how to stop it.

[moonlitstoriess]

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 3: Unseen Threads

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Kynesis: The instinctual drive to pursue or chase something; a primal urge to follow.

The auxiliary headquarters had never felt heavier.

Ruhn sat in the large leather chair at his desk, staring at the holo-screen in front of him. Reports, data, and communications blinked in and out, but nothing held his attention for long. A strange sense of unease had been creeping in all day, something gnawing at the back of his mind.

He leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his thoughts wandered. Things had been too calm lately, too quiet. After everything that had happened with their circle, peace felt more like a temporary pause than a lasting reality.

The sharp buzz of his commlink interrupted his thoughts, and Ruhn glanced down at it. A message flashed on the screen from Flynn, short and urgent: “Get to the briefing room. Now.”

Ruhn’s gut twisted. Something was wrong. He stood up from his chair and quickly crossed the office, weaving through the busy corridors of the auxiliary headquarters. The sharp scent of cleaning supplies mixed with the distinct hum of tech filled the air as he moved with purpose. His steps quickened, the adrenaline already starting to kick in.

When he pushed open the doors to the briefing room, he found Flynn, Declan, and the rest of the auxiliary team already gathered. Flynn’s face was tight with worry, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a serious expression.

“What’s going on?” Ruhn asked, feeling the tension in the room as soon as he stepped in.

Flynn glanced up, his jaw set. “We’ve got a situation. Fires—multiple, across the city. They started around the same time, and they’re spreading fast. The 33rd is stretched thin dealing with them, and we’re being called in to assist.”

Ruhn’s heart skipped a beat. Fires? That wasn’t unusual in a city this size, but… multiple? “Do we know the source?”

Declan shook his head, fingers already flying across the holo-screen to pull up maps and reports. “Not yet, but something about this doesn’t sit right. It’s too coordinated, too… sudden.”

Ruhn frowned, a familiar heaviness settling in his chest. Coordinated chaos. His mind flashed to Bryce—she’d want to get involved, no question about it. But his thoughts quickly returned to the task at hand.

“Okay, let’s move,” Ruhn ordered, pulling himself into the role of leader. “Where’s the worst hit?”

Declan brought up a map of the city, areas marked in red where the fires had erupted. “East sector, near the industrial zone. The flames are spreading toward the residential areas, and people are starting to evacuate.”

“Shit,” Ruhn muttered under his breath. “Get the gear. We’re heading there first.”

Flynn clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”

The drive to the site felt longer than it should have. Silence filled the vehicle, a tension building in the air. Flynn sat in the front seat, his eyes hard as he stared out the window, while Declan tapped away on his tech, scanning the updates coming in.

Ruhn’s mind raced. Fires didn’t just start on their own—not like this. His gut told him this wasn’t some accident, but deliberate. Calculated. And that thought chilled him to the bone.

When they arrived, the scene that unfolded before them was pure chaos.

Thick clouds of black smoke rose from the burning buildings, ash drifting through the air like snowflakes. People were scattered in the streets, some running, others shouting, trying to help. The acrid smell of burning wood and metal filled his lungs as they stepped out of the vehicle, the heat from the flames palpable even from a distance.

“This is bad,” Flynn muttered, his usual bravado gone.

“Yeah,” Ruhn replied, eyes scanning the horizon. The flames licked higher, threatening to devour everything in their path. There was no way this was an accident.

Grabbing his commlink, Ruhn relayed orders to the team. “Declan, check in with the 33rd. We need to know where the fire started. Flynn, help with crowd control, get these people out of here. I’ll head toward the fire and see what I can do.”

The team sprang into action. Declan immediately began communicating with the Legion while Flynn and a few others started directing civilians to safety.

As Ruhn moved toward the heart of the blaze, a knot formed in his stomach. He had no idea who or what was behind this, but he could sense that it was only the beginning.

He jogged through the thick smoke, his eyes scanning the surroundings as the heat intensified. The closer he got to the source of the fire, the clearer it became that this was no random accident.

He caught sight of the firefighters battling the flames. Their powerful hoses blasted streams of water at the burning structures, but the fire seemed almost alive, resisting every attempt to extinguish it. The heat was suffocating, and the acrid stench of burning debris clawed at his throat.

Ruhn’s commlink buzzed in his ear. “Ruhn,” Declan’s voice crackled through. “I’ve got something. The fires—they’re too spread out to be natural. This was deliberate. Coordinated. They started in different locations at the same time.”

Ruhn cursed under his breath. “Any idea who’s behind it?”

“Nothing solid yet. But I’ve got people running intel.”

As Declan spoke, Ruhn’s attention shifted to something strange. His sharp eyes caught sight of the blackened ground in a nearby alleyway. The pattern of the scorch marks—it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t random.

His gut churned. There was something about the way the flames moved, the unnatural shapes they left behind. Magic? He squinted closer at the scorch marks. They almost looked like symbols, curling and twisting in ways that set his instincts on edge.

Before he could inspect further, a loud crack erupted from a nearby building. The wooden beams supporting the structure had given way, sending burning debris crashing to the ground.

“Ruhn! Get back!” Flynn’s voice shouted from somewhere behind him, but it was too late. The flames surged forward, and the ground trembled as the building collapsed in on itself.

Ruhn’s shadows reacted on instinct, swirling up from deep inside him, wrapping him in a cocoon of protection as burning embers rained down. For a moment, all he could see was fire, the world around him consumed by chaos.

And then… silence.

The collapse was over, the building reduced to smoldering ruins.

Ruhn pushed his shadows back down, scanning the scene. The alleyway was now blocked off by a pile of debris, but something told him he had seen something important—something he needed to understand.

He tapped his commlink again. “Flynn, Declan. Pull back to my location. We need to regroup.”

“On it,” Flynn responded, his voice tight.

As Ruhn stepped away from the scene, his thoughts spiraled. The fire, the symbols, the coordinated attack—it was all connected, but he couldn’t put his finger on how. Not yet.

Back at the auxiliary headquarters, hours had passed, but the weight of the fires hung over the entire team. The blazes were under control, but the damage had already been done. As Ruhn and his team gathered around the central table, Declan projected a map of the city, highlighting the areas most affected.

“So far, no one’s claimed responsibility for the attacks,” Flynn said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “But with how perfectly this was executed, it’s no small-time player.”

Ruhn nodded, his mind replaying the strange symbols he’d seen earlier. Something nagged at him, something familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“What about Bryce?” Declan asked. “She’s going to want to know what’s going on.”

“She knows,” Ruhn said, a grim smile tugging at his lips. “But we’ve got this for now. I don’t want her involved unless it gets worse.”

Declan shot him a knowing look but said nothing. Bryce never stayed out of anything for long, especially if there was danger involved.

Flynn glanced at the map again, his brow furrowed. “You think this is just the beginning?”

Ruhn didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t need to. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation—everyone in the room could feel it.

Finally, Ruhn spoke, his voice low. “Yeah. I think something bigger is coming.”

The meeting stretched late into the night as the auxiliary poured over every detail of the fires, trying to connect the dots. Maps covered the walls, and reports streamed in from all over the city. Each new piece of information only added to the growing unease in the room.

Ruhn’s mind was preoccupied, trying to make sense of the situation. The fires were too widespread, too organized to be random. The tension in the air was thick, but no one had any solid answers yet.

Flynn stood at the head of the room, pointing to a map pinned to the wall. “These aren’t random spots. Whoever did this, they knew the city. They hit places that would draw the most attention.”

“But why fires?” Declan asked, sitting across from Ruhn, flipping through the reports. “There are quicker ways to cause chaos.”

Ruhn tapped his fingers on the table, staring at the map. “It’s not just about the chaos. It feels like… a distraction. But from what?”

As if on cue, the door to the meeting room swung open, and one of their lieutenants rushed in, breathless and grim. “New intel just came in,” he said, catching everyone’s attention. “We’ve got witnesses from one of the fire sites.”

Ruhn’s attention sharpened. “Go on.”

The lieutenant stepped further into the room, his voice tense. “They said they saw someone. Couldn't identify who it is. Cloaked, moving through the crowd before the fires started.”

Ruhn exchanged a look with Flynn and Declan. A cloaked woman, in the middle of the chaos? His instincts flared with suspicion. “A cloaked figure?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “Did they get any details?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “Not much. Whoever it is, they kept to the shadows, and no one got a clear look at his or her face. But they were seen near more than one of the fire sites.”

Flynn rubbed his jaw. “So, either they are setting them or this individual knows something.”

“Either way,” Declan added, “they are involved.”

Ruhn felt a ripple of unease at the thought. There was no telling who this figure was or what their role in all this could be. But their presence at multiple fire sites wasn’t a coincidence.

“Find more witnesses,” Ruhn said, standing up. “We need to know more about them. Anything. I want to know where he or she went after the fires started, too.”

The lieutenant nodded and rushed out, leaving the group in a heavy silence.

Flynn let out a slow breath. “A cloaked figure and random fires? This sounds like the start of a bad story.”

Ruhn didn’t respond. His mind was turning over the details, trying to piece it all together. Who was this person? And what was he or she trying to accomplish?

For now, the answers eluded him, but something told him this wasn’t the last they’d hear of him or her.

The clock on the wall was ticking past 2 a.m., but Ruhn and his team were still going strong. The auxiliary office was quieter now, most of the lower-level members having gone home or taken over watch shifts, but the core group remained.

Ruhn stood in front of a large tactical map on the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared at the red markers indicating each fire site. His mind churned with frustration—the fires had been extinguished hours ago, but the mystery remained unsolved.

Flynn, sitting across the table from him, pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is getting us nowhere. We’ve got a handful of burnt buildings, a few witness statements that don’t tell us much, and the appearance of some figure who slipped away before anyone could ID them.”

Declan was at his usual spot, typing away furiously at his computer, running search after search. “I’m pulling what I can from street cams and security footage, but we still don’t have a clear image of them. There’s too much interference and not enough data to go on.”

Ruhn sighed heavily, his eyes still glued to the map. There was no denying the fires had been deliberate—too well-timed, too precise. And that mysterious figure from earlier still lingered in the back of his mind. But who was this person? And why did he or she set them? The feeling that something darker was in motion gnawed at him.

Flynn leaned back in his chair. “We’ve been at this for hours, man. We’re not gonna make sense of this tonight.”

Ruhn clenched his jaw, knowing Flynn was right. The tension in his body had reached a breaking point. “Alright,” he muttered, pushing away from the map. “We’ll regroup in the morning. But keep the patrols tight. If this is the beginning of something bigger, I want eyes everywhere.”

Flynn nodded, and Declan gave a tired wave as he continued working. But Ruhn couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

The city was unnaturally quiet as Ruhn stepped out of the auxiliary building. The early hours before dawn always had an eerie stillness to them, but tonight it felt more oppressive, like the calm before a storm. The fires had been dealt with, yet something about them gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

Ruhn zipped up his jacket against the cold breeze, his breath visible in the cool air as he began the short walk back to his apartment. The empty streets of the city felt like a stark contrast to the chaotic mess they had dealt with earlier, but there was no comfort in the silence.

He replayed the night’s events in his mind, searching for some clue he might’ve missed, something that would explain the sudden, calculated attacks. The mysterious figure Flynn mentioned was the biggest anomaly. No one had managed to get a good look at them, and they had slipped away so cleanly it was like they hadn’t been there at all.

Whoever they were, they weren't just a passerby.

As he neared his apartment, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing a message from Bryce.

Bryce: Heard about the fires. You good?

Ruhn frowned, glancing up at the quiet city around him. Bryce would no doubt dig into this just as he was, but for now, he didn’t want her getting mixed up in things before he had more information.

Ruhn: Yeah, handling it. Will update you in the morning.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and headed inside, mind still churning. Something about the unidentified individual, the fires, the precision of it all—it was all too well-planned. Too clean. He needed to figure out who was behind it, and fast.

But for now, he’d try to sleep, knowing the morning would bring more questions than answers.

The next day came far too quickly. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow on the apartment walls. Ruhn groaned as he sat up, still feeling the weight of the previous night’s work heavy on his shoulders.

He rolled out of bed, quickly getting dressed and heading out. They needed to reconvene and figure out their next move.

The city was already buzzing with activity by the time Ruhn and his team stepped outside the auxiliary headquarters in search of more signs. The fires had left a mark on the city’s landscape, and Ruhn felt the weight of the responsibility to ensure everything was under control.

He and his team—Flynn, Declan, Alex and Damon—were scouring the streets, questioning pedestrians and assessing the damage. The reports of destruction were dire, and Ruhn’s focus was to gather every bit of information that could help them piece together the events of the night before.

As they moved down a street, Ruhn noticed a small café on the corner. The place seemed to be a hub of conversation, and he figured it might be a good spot to gather more intel. He directed his team to keep an eye on the street while he approached the café, hoping to pick up any additional details from the patrons.

Just as he was about to enter the café, a woman burst through the door, moving with an urgency that caught his attention. Her hurried pace and the way she tried to avoid eye contact made something in Ruhn’s gut twist with unease.

He briefly locked eyes with her, but her face was partially obscured by the hood of her shirt. The moment was too fleeting for him to make out any distinct features before she turned sharply and hurried away.

Instinctively, Ruhn’s gaze followed her. He signaled to his team to follow. There was something about her behavior that didn’t sit right with him.

The woman moved quickly, weaving through the streets with purpose. Ruhn and his team kept a discreet distance, their steps synchronized with hers. As she darted into an alleyway, Ruhn urged his team to stay close.

In the narrow confines of the alley, Ruhn saw her stumbling and dropping something on the ground. He caught sight of a small, intricate pendant before she could recover it. Without thinking, he reached out and gripped her arm, intending to stop her.

As his fingers closed around her arm, a strange sensation coursed through him—a fleeting pulse of energy that sent a shiver up his spine. It was brief, almost like an electric current, but enough to make him pause. The woman’s startled reaction confirmed that the feeling wasn’t one-sided.

“Stop!” Ruhn commanded, his voice sharp with authority and urgency. The intensity of the moment heightened his awareness, making his heart pound.

But before he could fully grasp her, she wrenched free, slipping away into the shadows. Ruhn watched as she disappeared around a corner, his grip still tingling with the sensation of her touch.

He quickly picked up the pendant she had dropped, examining its elaborate design. It seemed out of place, adding another layer of mystery to the situation.

Ruhn turned to his team, determination etched on his face. “Keep searching. We need to find out who she is and why she was running.”

As his team resumed their search, Ruhn’s thoughts raced. The strange sensation from the woman’s touch lingered in his mind, along with the pendant’s peculiar design. He knew there was a deeper connection to the chaos that needed to be uncovered. The city might be recovering, but for Ruhn, the mystery was just beginning.

He looked back down at the pendant in his hands. Intricate patterns were etched into it's surface--familiar, yet completely alien. As his thumb traced the designs, something flickered in his memory, like the whisper of an old story he couldn't quite remember.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered to himself, turning the pendant over in his hand.

Flynn and Declan caught up to him then, their faces marked with confusion.

"Did you lose her?" Flynn asked, glancing down the alley where she had disappeared.

"She slipped away," Ruhn replied, his voice edged with frustration. "But not before she dropped this." He held up the pendant, watching as his friends' expressions shifted from curiosity to concern.

"That's not local," Declan said immediately, his sharp eyes studying the pendant. "I've seen a lot of old artifacts in the archives--this doesn't match anything we've come across."

Flynn frowned, his gaze flicking between the pendant and Ruhn "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we need answers," Ruhn replied, pocketing the pendant. "Whatever that thing is...it's connected to her. And I don't think she's just some random personpassing through the city."

Bryce's voice crackled through their comms. "What's going on? You guys are off the grid."

Ruhn pressed the device to his ear, his mind still buzzing. "We might've stumbled onto something bigger than we thought."

"Bigger how?" Bryce sounded intrigued, though there was a hint of weariness in her tone--likely from dealing with the fallout of the night's attack.

"I'll explain later. We're heading back."

Three hours later, back at the apartment, the entire group gathered in the lounge--Bryce, Hunt, Ithan, Baxian and Ruhn. The atmosphere was tense, everyone still on edge from the attack the previous night.

Ruhn set the pendant down on the coffee table, the strange silver gleaming under the lights.

"This is what she dropped," Ruhn began, his voice steady but his mind still racing. "I don't know who she is, but I'm sure as hell that she's not from around here.And this pendant, it's tied to something. Something big."

Bryce leaned in, her fingers brushing over the intricate design. "This looks old. Like really old." Her brow furrowed "I've never seen anything like this, and I've come across a lot of ancient shit."

Hunt crossed his arms, his wings twitching slightly. "Do you think she's involved with the attack? Coordinating something behind the scenes?"

"I don't know," Ruhn admitted. "But whatever she's up to, she is not someone we should underestimate."

Baxian leaned against his chair. "I will let Isaiah know of this new discovery."

Bryce exchanged a glance with her mate before looking back at Ruhn. "We need to find out what this symbol means. I'll reach out to some people, see if they know anything."

Ruhn rubbed his temples as the group fell into a thoughtful silence, the pendant lying on the coffee table between them, gleaming in the low light of the apartment. Bryce paced back and forth, deep in thought, while Ithan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes occasionally flicking towards the mysterious object.

“None of this makes any sense,” Bryce finally muttered. “If this pendant is as old as it looks, why was it dropped during last night’s attack? And why now?”

“Maybe it was an accident,” Ithan suggested. “Whoever was running from you, Ruhn, wasn’t planning on being chased.”

Ruhn shook his head. “No. This wasn’t just some random person. There was something… familiar about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.” He hadn’t shared everything he felt during that brief contact—how a strange pulse of energy surged through him when he grabbed her arm. It had been… unsettling.

As the room fell into another tense silence, there was a knock on the door. Everyone froze, their gazes darting towards it.

“Expecting someone?” Ithan asked, already pushing off the wall.

Bryce frowned. “No.”

Ruhn rose, his hand instinctively going to the knife at his side as he approached the door. He glanced back at the group, Bryce nodding once to signal her readiness, her fingers twitching with power just beneath the surface.

Ruhn opened the door, revealing Flynn standing there, looking slightly out of breath. He wasn’t alone. Beside him was Declan, their expressions serious.

“Sorry to barge in,” Flynn started, walking into the apartment without being invited. “But we’ve got news, and it’s not good.”

Bryce crossed her arms. “What is it?”

Flynn exchanged a look with Declan before he spoke again. “One of our sources just reached out. They’ve been tracking unusual magical activity, and… well, we think we’ve found another connection to the attacks. Something about a powerful ward being broken last night.”

“A ward?” Ruhn asked, brow furrowing.

Flynn nodded. “Yeah, and it gets worse. They couldn’t pinpoint the exact location, but they’re sure it’s tied to that pendant.”

Ruhn’s gaze flicked back to the pendant on the table. The room seemed to grow colder, the air heavier with the weight of this new revelation.

“We need to get moving,” Flynn added. “Our source said this ward was ancient—something that hasn’t been touched in centuries.”

“Then whoever dropped this pendant wasn’t just fleeing the scene,” Declan said, his eyes scanning the group. “They were trying to hide something, maybe even protect themselves from being found.”

Bryce’s expression hardened. “Do we have any leads on where this ward was located?”

Flynn hesitated. “Not yet, but our source is working on it. We figured we’d regroup here and go from there.”

Ruhn’s mind was racing. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that the woman he had chased was tied to all of this. And now this pendant wasn’t just some lost trinket; it was a piece of something much larger.

He looked over at Bryce. “We need to move quickly. If this ward was protecting something dangerous, we can’t let it get out of control.”

“Agreed,” Bryce said, glancing at the others. “We split up. Flynn, you and Declan go follow up with your source. Ithan, stay here and keep an eye on things. Hunt and Baxian, you go to the 33rd. See if they have any updates. Ruhn and I will check out the location where you found that woman.”

Ruhn nodded, but a chill crept up his spine. The feeling that something bigger was at play, something none of them were ready for, wouldn’t leave him. And as he grabbed his jacket and prepared to head back out into the streets, his mind wandered to the pendant once more.

What had been unleashed?

The streets outside were eerily quiet as they moved toward the alley, where the pendant had been found. Bryce’s eyes swept the surroundings, alert to any sign of danger. But Ruhn’s mind was elsewhere—on the woman who had dropped the pendant. She wasn’t just another enemy; she was something far more dangerous.

The air seemed to grow heavier as they approached the alley, the energy around them shifting. It was subtle at first—a slight flicker of movement, a ripple in the world around them, as if reality itself was bending under unseen pressure.

“This is where she was,” Ruhn murmured, his voice low as he stopped in front of the darkened alley. His grip tightened on the pendant in his pocket, a deep sense of unease settling over him.

Bryce looked at him, her brow furrowed. “Whatever we’re dealing with, it’s not just some random magic. This is something bigger.”

Ruhn nodded, but before he could respond, the very air around them seemed to still. The night grew unnaturally quiet, the world itself frozen in place. Bryce stopped mid-step, her expression frozen in time—her body unmoving, her breathing halted.

Everything stopped.

Ruhn felt a strange pressure weigh down on him, an invisible force binding him in place. His muscles refused to respond, his body stuck in a frozen position. It was as if time itself had ceased to exist, the world around him locked in a moment.

And then he saw her.

Out of the shimmering stillness, That woman stepped into view. Her cloak was gone, revealing her completely. She moved with an unhurried grace, her movements smooth and fluid, as if she alone controlled the flow of time.

Ruhn’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers—an unnatural shade of violet, like molten amethyst glowing in the dim light of the alley. Her face was a vision of ethereal beauty, but not the kind that drew you in with warmth. No, her beauty was dangerous, sharp, like a blade designed to cut, to wound. Her high cheekbones, flawless skin, and the intense, almost otherworldly look in her eyes sent a shiver through him. And her ears...so she was a female, not a woman.

He’d seen plenty of powerful beings, creatures with ancient magic that thrummed in their veins, but there was something about her—something that went beyond mere beauty. She was unnatural, ethereal, and that only added to the power she exuded.

His heart thundered in his chest as he found himself unable to look away. Every detail seemed to sharpen, every second stretched as his mind struggled to process what was happening. He was stuck, time frozen, and yet in this moment, all that mattered was her.

And then she moved closer.

The female walked through the frozen world as if she owned it, her steps soft but deliberate. She didn’t rush, didn’t panic. She moved with the confidence of someone who knew she was untouchable. Ruhn’s gaze followed her, his mind a whirlwind of questions. Who is she? Why does she feel… different?

With each step, her beauty grew more haunting, her presence more overwhelming. And he noticed the smallest details—her long, dark hair framing her face, the way her eyes seemed to catch every bit of light, glinting with some hidden knowledge, some secret she carried that the world didn’t know.

When she finally reached him, her fingers lightly brushed his hand. The pendant, the one she had dropped, was still in his grasp. Her touch was cold, sending a sharp jolt up his arm, and his entire body felt like it had been set ablaze by that brief connection. It was as if her touch pulled something out of him, something primal, something deep.

She leaned in slightly, her gaze briefly flicking down to the pendant before locking back onto his. In the frozen stillness, their eyes locked again, and for a moment—just a moment—Ruhn swore he saw a flicker of something in her gaze. Recognition? Curiosity? He couldn’t tell.

But then she spoke, her voice a whisper, low and melodic, yet edged with danger. “This belongs to me.”

His breath hitched. There was something intimate in that moment, something that crawled under his skin and stayed there, gnawing at him. She took the pendant from his hand slowly, her fingers lingering just a fraction too long against his.

And then, with a single blink, she was gone.

Time resumed its flow, the world around him suddenly jolting back to life. Bryce gasped beside him, blinking rapidly as if shaking off a dream.

“Ruhn?” Bryce’s voice sounded distant, her eyes wide as she scanned the street.

But Ruhn couldn’t respond. His heart pounded in his chest, and his gaze was still locked on the spot where she had disappeared, the strange sensation of her touch still lingering on his skin.

“Who the hell was that?” Bryce muttered, scanning the area in confusion, her brow furrowed.

Ruhn didn’t answer immediately. His mind was still reeling, trying to process what had just happened. His pulse was still racing from the intensity of that moment, from the look in her eyes that had been so piercing, so knowing.

“Whoever she is… she’s not done with us,” Ruhn finally said, his voice low.

Bryce shot him a confused look, clearly not understanding the full weight of what had just occurred. But Ruhn felt it—deep in his bones. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The pendant had been a symbol, a connection. But it wasn’t just about the object anymore. It was about her. Whoever she was, whatever power she wielded… it was only the beginning.

And something told Ruhn that the next time they met, it wouldn’t be so brief—or so one-sided. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @annamariereads16 @tooexhaustedsstuff @a-frog-with-a-laptop @cassie-at-college-blog @itsinherited @anuttellaa

[forasecondtherewedwon]

It's Enough, It's Enough - chapter four

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: E Chapter: 4 / 6

Summary: Five times Jane and Guildford pretend to have sex, and one time it’s for real.

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Seymour is such a dastardly prick that Guildford has felt no compunction about hating him, even before his attempted ambush at the stables. He doesn’t like that man being around his wife. Not that Jane will remain his wife. That’s not the important bit. Mainly, Guildford does not trust Seymour. The upside of having frequented the taverns wherein he built his overblown reputation for rakishness and revelry is that Guildford knows how to spot the bad sort. And Seymour is a supreme rotter.

The trick with that sort of man, Guildford knows, is not to attempt to outfox him at his own game—it’s to leave off with political maneuvering and just pick his fucking pockets. Clean and simple. Thankfully, Seymour has a certain penchant for heavy cloaks and flapping robes. These are garments that hang and bulk away from the body, making him an unusually easy mark for Guildford’s quick hands and darting reach.

Jane has told him about locked chests and boxes, so Guildford’s hoping to pluck a key from Seymour’s pocket. Because it might be quite a small one, he gives this search several attempts, putting himself in repeated close contact with the foul man. It’s tedious. It’s worse than tedious: Seymour is a slippery git, the mere sight of whom at the opposite end of a corridor is enough to make Guildford’s teeth grind together. Nevertheless, he makes his attempts, knowing Jane would do as much for him.

Jane doesn’t know, by the way. He decided before he began that she wouldn’t know unless he was successful. Best not to have her worry needlessly.

Eventually, Guildford’s fingers close around something, but it isn’t metal, it’s paper. He can’t wait to read it, stealing into an alcove and unfolding the page right then. Unfortunately, slippery Seymour’s written the damn thing in code (of course he fucking has, the shithead). Fortunately, it’s a code Guildford recognizes.

He looks for an opportunity to reveal his discovery to Jane that night, but there’s never sufficient privacy and it begins to grow late. Though they can’t discuss this, she’s become his favourite person to spend time with, so he stays with her anyway, watching her work, watching her with her sisters. He tries not to think about the family they could have been, if she meant for this to last. Eventually, all the others have gone to bed and there’s just her and him, sitting opposite one another by the fire. He thinks an even more dangerous thought: that it is so very tempting to stay. Jane is tired and kind enough to swear she isn’t tired at all, that she can talk, that he should keep his seat. Guildford is seduced by the fact of her being his wife, of the scene they make, looking so utterly regular and not like a queen and her horse consort. A normal husband could fall asleep here. He wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen if he failed to wake and creep outside before the dawn. A normal husband could watch his wife drop off to sleep in his arms, not on the other side of the table between them. He could watch her eyes open the following morning with sunlight streaming across the bed they share, feel her first stirrings in the human arms that held her fast through the night.

It's pointless dreaming.

“Go to bed,” he urges with a smile, and stands to take his leave.

For now, he stows the stolen note in the stables.

—

There’s time the next night—time to sit with Jane and explain about the cipher wheel and how he stayed up translating Seymour’s paper. The contents don’t exactly provide incriminating evidence about what happened to King Edward, but they are proof of revoltingly close ties between Seymour and Princess Mary. Guildford attempts to gloss over this in summary, focusing on what they might yet gain if they can get their hands on more of the correspondence, but Jane is keen to know everything he knows. She snatches the letter straight from his hand. As its original pickpocketer, Guildford has to admire the shortcut.

“When I stand before you in my father’s fur-trimmed robe, the same robe depicted in the portrait which stands sentinel over all our erotic acts,” Jane reads, only to interrupt herself with a noise of disgust. “Mary wears King Henry’s clothes while she and Seymour…? Ugh.”

“I know,” Guildford agrees. “Vile.”

But the words, with which he is already familiar, didn’t unsettle him on paper nearly as much as they do coming out of Jane’s mouth. He knows everything the note contains. Will she read all of it? His hands clench into anxious fists, wanting her to stop, needing her to go on.

“The kiss of its lining on my skin is as sweet to me as your voice in the throes of passion, when I know you will exclaim, ‘Mercy, good lady!’ to no avail as I spank your cheeks crimson with gauntlets of war.” Jane laughs and glances at him. “No wonder Seymour thought us tame.”

He has no chance to respond before she continues on to the part which he most fears and craves to her to speak aloud.

“When you can hardly stand, I will make you lie beneath me while I t-take”—Jane stumbles, but her pride (he assumes) prevents her from quitting in the middle of a sentence—“my pleasure.”

It’s clear she won’t read any further. She’s flushed red, and, yes, Guildford hates Seymour (hates Mary too, though that would be treasonous to say), but he’s perversely grateful for the filthy correspondence. If he forgets about that pair of lunatics and concentrates on Jane’s soft voice, it’s much harder to laugh. Hearing Jane say she would make him lie beneath her while she took her pleasure isn’t funny in the slightest. It’s all too evocative.

But he shouldn’t say it, so he won’t.

What Guildford does say is, “There will be more letters.”

“Undoubtedly,” Jane says, folding that one up. “Which means we get to discover if Seymour is equally verbose.”

“Hopefully about more relevant matters.”

“Yes.” As Jane looks away, he sees her blush deepen.

—

Later the same night, they shut themselves in the room with the chest. Though that item is still locked up tight, the room is filled with stacks of documents and other, smaller chests and boxes—plenty for them to rifle through, making sure nothing is overlooked. A weasel like Seymour has his hiding places, but Guildford wouldn’t put it past the man to also be so arrogant, so confident in his success, as to leave something important out in the open, certain it would go undetected by the eyes of the less cunning.

It really is very late. Guildford assumes Jane would usually be asleep by now. And him? He would be lying in his bed in the stables, most likely not sleeping but trying to, kept awake by the memory of how her hair smelled. He thinks about that night—the night when she sat astride him and put on a very convincing show for their peeping parents—more than he should. Most likely, it will ruin him when she leaves. It’s not the money. It’s never been the money. What Guildford expects to miss is how close they came.

God, that’s enough. He feels pathetic mourning her in this way. She isn’t dead. His heart should know the bloody difference.

He busies himself with the task at hand, as does Jane. Beginning side by side at its head, they circle the table, inspecting both sides of every page their determined hands encounter. In Guildford's opinion, the place is rather a sty—and if anyone should know, it's the man who sleeps in the stables. It takes effort to put everything back as sloppily as they find it, making it all look undisturbed. They check the chairs and floor as well, in case anything might have dropped. Now and then, they glance at one another to wordlessly inquire about progress, but mostly, there is just the sound of pages rustling, leather folios slapping open and shut, and the two of them breathing.

Having assumed most of the palace would be asleep, they're alarmed by footsteps in the corridor outside. Guildford rushes to meet Jane at the table's far end; there's no point hiding in such a small room, so it's better to be facing the door if anyone comes through it. But how will they explain their presence?

"The candle," he says, and Jane leans far forward to extinguish the flame they lit at the table's center.

With a quick gust of breath, it goes out. They're plunged into a darkness that doesn't last, their eyes adjusting to the cold radiance of moonlight pouring through the window. Jane straightens up, her back brushing her chest. In the dark, Guildford rests a steadying hand on her shoulder. She places her fingers over his. Then, they try to not even breathe, praying the steps will pass them by.

No such luck.

The door isn't locked, but it's sturdy and hanging on slanted hinges. These conditions cause it to make crooked contact with the floor instead of being suspended slightly above, allowing the door to be wedged shut if some force is applied. Guildford applied that force cautiously, working slowly so as not to make a racket, and whoever is on the other side of that door now does the same. The slow scrape is chilling.

"Guildford," Jane whispers urgently.

They have seconds.

It takes less than one of them for Guildford to choose a tactic.

"Trust me," he commands instead of asking, then puts a hand on Jane's lower back and presses her forward until she's bent over the table once again.

Not only does she not protest, she hefts her skirts in her arms. He helps her to expose the back of her chemise, though that won't be visible to the intruder around her gathered skirts. Hastily, Guildford unbuttons his leather breeches and tugs them partway down his thighs. With Jane canted over the table and his hips shoved quickly forward, his body curved over his wife's, a couple who selected a rather odd place for a tryst should be all they appear to—

"Princess Mary!" Jane gasps.

Holding her own candlestick high to throw light into the chamber, Mary looks about as surprised to see the two of them as they are to see her. Guildford anticipated her paramour. He would never have thought a woman known to be prone to nasty, rodential smiles in public and bitter fits when she believes herself out of earshot would be capable of such subtle entry. She makes Guildford's skin crawl, and he shudders behind Jane.

"My apologies... Your Majesty," Mary spits, baldly reluctant to use Jane's title and chokingly insincere. Her gaze darts to the chest and she appears relieved to find it shut. Her eyes also sweep the table, but it is impossible for her to make a thorough catalogue. Nor can she accuse them aloud. By rights, these pages belong to Jane, this room to Jane, this entire palace to Jane, as Mary is but a guest of the Queen. As much as a spider is a guest in a pitcher of milk, or a flea a guest in the seam of a jacket.

Jane stands with dignity (he mimes a fleet withdrawing and yanks up his breeches), but does not move away from Guildford. Instead, she takes him by the hand. He feels himself strengthened by their united front. They face this woman who, whether or not she acted against King Edward, almost certainly wants the new monarch dead, that she might reign herself. Jane is most vulnerable, yet she maintains her position between Guildford and the threat.

"What business brings you here?" Jane questions.

Mary's gaze moves lazily from her cousin to Guildford.

"A sickening feeling," she says, "that something was amiss."

"The only thing amiss is your presence. You see my husband and I want privacy. Leave us."

Mary's look as she inclines her head in deference is venomous, but she does as ordered and departs. There is no other reasonable action for her to take. No doubt driven by spite, she leave the door ajar. While Jane sighs in shaky relief, Guildford crosses the room to put his shoulder to the door, jamming it back into place.

"Did you mark how she looked at the chest?" Guildford checks, turning to face Jane again. "She appeared only perfunctorily interested in the visible papers, but Seymour might not have—"

The remainder of his speech is lost to the abrupt pressure of his wife's mouth on his. The way she gives her weight to him to catch and hold says she is kissing him in sheer relief. Another narrow escape.

Though that might be her feeling, Guildford's side of the kiss is infused with excitement about witnessing his wife exercise her authority over her detestable cousin. In his arms, Jane's relief in thwarting Mary feels enough like giving in to the simmering thing between them that he meets her mouth ravenously. She lets him. She accepts him. After scant moments, she equals his fervour. When Jane moans into his mouth, Guildford catches her jaw between his finger and thumb, enforcing her stillness so he might kiss her soundly. Deep and unhurried. Jane's legs seem almost to melt beneath her, but her arms hold him tightly, her fingers twisting into his hair.

Guildford wrenches his face back. Through tingling lips, he pants, "Jane. Jane, you said we would not..."

"We won't," she swears. "We're not."

But he sees her kiss-plumped lips and soft, persuasive gaze, and he knows this will not be one of the times they can end this easily. There's a difference, he thinks when their lips seal together again, between being helpless and not wanting to be helped. He isn't helpless to stop Jane, but he's tired—oh-so-tired—of being her conscience. Why should he continually advise her away from doing what at least part of her (and all of him) is dying to give in to? He's no adviser, he's her consort, ergo he'd prefer they did more consorting. Particularly in the middle of the night like this, drunk on triumph.

He fills his hands with Jane's skirts for the second time that night, though the first time in passion instead of pretense, and backs her towards the long table. When they reach it, Guildford lifts her onto the edge, encouraging Jane's legs apart to let him stand between them. She sighs, running a hand down his neck. His manhood is swollen to readiness as he presses his hips to hers.

That's when she murmurs, "Should we stop?"

"Do you want to stop?" Guildford counters, not to persuade her but to entreat Jane to be honest with herself. He releases his hold on her legs and grips the table edge.

But perhaps his rational wife isn't ready to trust her instincts. He won't attempt to convince her; he doesn't want to win her that way. After everything, he's surprised to discover that he cares how she sees him, and that he wants her to see him as a good choice. Guildford recognizes this might be unrealistic, since he wasn't any kind of choice for her, their marriage arranged by a pair of opportunists. When Jane is ready—when she allows herself to be—he doesn't want to look at her and read in her face that she came to him after suppressing her better judgement. He won't be the devil in her ear. She's thrown enough names at him: vagabond, brigand, knave, rake (repeatedly rake). He couldn't care less if that's what others think of him, but he wants to be sure Jane knows better.

"No," she says, then admits, "Yes," with a regretful wince, as he thought she would.

"It's alright," he tells her. He steps back to give her room to stand.

"You understand?"

Guildford chuckles. "I didn't say that, but until you do, it's alright."

"What don't I understand?" Jane asks defensively.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I trust you to tell me when you figure it out."

She looks as though she's deciding whether to find this insulting. Guildford returns her look levelly. Finally, Jane elects to let the comment pass. They've been doing more of this, he's noticed: lengthening one another's tether. Bickering less, or at least more strategically. Accepting that, every so often, the other person might have a point. It's softened the sharp edges they seemed to have at the start, when every cut was interpreted as intentional. The bite is something different now, something that makes him want to get closer instead of drawing back.

Guildford lets them out of the room, then escorts Jane to her bedchamber. He longs to linger in the doorway, casting suggestive looks into the room, but he finds his restraint. The task is monumental enough to deserve a special honour bestowed by the Queen. Maybe he'll tell her someday. Maybe he'll pretend to remember overcoming his desire to bed his wife as the greatest challenge of this stage of his life. He'll wave aside her recollections of Mary and Seymour and assassins in the woods and division in the kingdom, and say, Yes, but recall how I suffered before you deigned to want me back? She'll argue, of course (because they'll still be arguing then), not that he didn't suffer, but that she always wanted him, even when he didn't believe it.

He studies her for a final few seconds to see if this might be true before realizing it's no more fair for him to make assumptions about Jane in the future than for her to make assumptions about him in the present. He won't then. He'll only hope that she is there.

[cantfightmoonlight]

@lunarcovestarters

Option A: Leyla

TW Blood

Shit. A shaky breath left her lips as she placed the heavy bucket of soap and water down with the thud. Every muscle in her body was begging her to curl up into a tiny little ball, to pull the covers as high as they would go and stay in bed for the next eternity, or even worse, do what the Selvi's did best- run without ever daring to look back. Her best friend was in the hospital thanks to her biological sister who, from the not so subtle message sprawled across the windows of her coffee shop, had used Aiyla's own blood to write it. She felt she was going to be sick, but rather than letting herself break down into tears, Leyla did the only thing else she knew how to do. She threw herself into task, scrubbing away at the horror scene of vandalism before her rather than let anyone feel the gut-wrenching sensation that she currently did. She had gotten nearly all of it but 'think again' cleared up before she felt the presence of someone behind her. "Fu-dge," She jumped, spinning around on her feet to catch the other's glance. "You scared me," Leyla mumbled out, ringing out the sponge in her hand and trying her best not to wrinkle her nose too much as she watched the blood run down her hands into the bucket.

Option B: Jasmine

"Mhm," Jas winced slightly as she rubbed her sore wrists. The metallic cuffs glistening in the sun almost could be mistaken as a fashion choice. Almost, except for the fact that they were latched onto her skin. The distinct and ancient charms cut off any access she had to her magic. Now, as she sipped her cup of coffee, attempting to reschedule all of the ghost tours the Seen It Route was having this week, the cuffs, besides the relatively hefty weight for bracelets, weren't much of a bother. They were clunky, for sure, but they no longer hurt. Though, the immediate pain she had felt when they had been placed on still lingered in her thoughts along with the fact that for the first time in weeks, the world seemed silent. While, she hadn't exactly been looking forward to paying the cost for something she had done over six months ago, she'd be lying if the fact she couldn't be harassed by the dead or overwhelmed by the coven's judgements that she had 'gotten off scott-free' while Rohan had not, had been nice. And now, hopefully, her name wouldn't be able to be thrown around as a weapon against her sister, the Supreme, or her boyfriend, the Alpha's character. The only problem remained, how the hell was she going to rebook five different tours and how many refunds was she going to have to give? A groan slipped out as she rubbed at her temples. "Who knew scheduling would be so complicated."

Option C

PTSD, Depression tw

Meena sat at the end of the bar. It was one of the first times she had sat, period, after the past few days. Aaliyah was finally healed up and headed back home. The emptiness in her house was hardly lost on her. Her eyes drained of even the slightest hint of a spark as she milked the glass of wine in hand. Her thumb and forefinger swirling the stem back and forth as if she was completely and utterly memorized by the red liquor. She was more angry than anyone could possibly imagine. The Catalyst had hurt her own and one who was older and, by proxy, physically stronger than even she was. But, on top of ever fiber of her being being filled with rage, she also felt entirely drained. The typical curve of her lips, her signature smirk, was no where to be found. Instead, the clan leader was entirely and utterly numb. Too exhausted to even bother to fake it anymore. It wasn't until someone slide into the open seat beside her that she finally took a moment to glance up. "I'd say care to join me, but I take it you already have?"

Option D: Elif

"Oh hey, come in, come in. Please make yourself comfortable," She assured them as she ushered her next client into her office. She'd be lying if she said business hadn't been slow recently, which one likely wouldn't expect with a therapist's office given how much had been going on in town these days. From the attacks to a witch getting their magic stripped to a death curse, you would think, now, more than ever, her scheduled would be booked solid. But, instead, the office almost felt like a ghost town. As if people were too afraid to attempt to start to process what they had collectively gone through, let alone talk about it. The chill in the air these days was unsettling to say the least. But, thankfully, there was one brave soul who had come to see her today and maybe that alone was hope.

[sleepershell]

Azgeda Charm

synopsis The sister of Ontari from Azgeda decides it could be fun to free the sky boy pretending to be her sister’s fleimkepa.

word count 2668

note originally posted on Ao3

warnings 18+ minors please DNI, smut, swearing, penetrative sex, oral sex female receiving, dubious consent but not really, dom! reader, sub! murphy

pairing John Murphy x f!reader

“Chains? Really, she’s chained her pet up now?” She’s always been a bit overzealous, but my sister really has gotten herself into it this time. How does she expect no one to find out that she isn’t a true commander? Without the flame she’s just my idiot sister. “Give me the key. Now.”

I shove her man aside and stalk toward her quarters. He grunts, but won’t do anything about my treatment of him. If there’s anything good to say about my sister it’s that she protects me. In fact, I’m probably the only person other than Roan, Nia, and their goons who could ever talk back to her without getting skewered.

I’m quiet as I near the door, creeping extra slowly in my heavy boots. With my ear to the wood I hear the muffled sounds of her speaking to him–the scrawny Skaikru boy.

“There’s somebody else, okay? I’m sorry.” Doesn’t sound sorry to me. My breath tightens in my chest, my sister doesn’t like to be told no. And, if he fights her on it, she will certainly win, one way or another…

“Is she a commander too?” Well, you’re not really a commander are you, Ontari?

“No.” Chains rattle within. So she did have him chained up. What a charmer my sister is. I feel my heartbeat quicken but I can’t tell why. As though I’m in battle when I am not.

“Would she kill you if you ever lied to her,” The chains make a cracking sound, and I hear him grunt. “Did anything to break her trust, or upset her in any-”

I’m moving before I can think better of it. I don’t know why I would do such a horribly foolish thing but I do. When the door slams open Ontari is there, pulling him toward her by a chain that is cuffed around his neck. The look on his face is a perplexing one, hesitant but willing, typical man. I scoff. Loyalty is a myth. Ontari is bare, of course flaunting the body that has always been so much better than mine.

“Sister!” She is displeased. “You are interrupting.”

I shake my head at her. “Chit yu dula op?”

“Just having a little fun.” She grits out. I raise my brows at her, and she crosses her arms over her perky, bare breasts like an insolent child.

“Well. Glad to see you’ve learned some things about enslaving people.” I glance pointedly at the chain still in one of her hands. I can tell that upset her, but it’s true. How can she abuse her power like this when we’ve lived under the fist of others for so long? “Anyway, you wanted to know when King Roan arrived. He has.”

My sister sucks in a breath, composing herself. “Of course. Thank you, sister.” I lean in the doorway as she dresses and shift my glance over to see that her ‘fleimkepa’ is eyeing me cautiously. I narrow my eyes in return. He must be a snake to have fallen in with Ontari. Of course, I’m not much better. I’ve killed for her.

She slips past me. “And what should I do with your prisoner?” I mock.

“Don’t touch,” she hisses.

“Don’t worry.” I slam the door behind her before turning to take in the scene before me. It’s a pitiful display. The sky boy’s face is decorated in lines of dried blood, and he looks ridiculous in the robes he’s clad in. “Hello, liar.” He frowns. I can tell he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to reveal his hand without knowing how much I already know. “What is your name?”

“People call me Murphy.”

“I didn’t ask what people call you. I asked for your name.”

He smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It seems he’s used to playing pretend. “John Murphy.”

I approach him, our eyes not breaking contact. His are dark blue and difficult to read. I reach up and unlock the collar around his neck, dropping it to the floor in a loud metal thud. He isn’t bad looking. I noticed it when Ontari first began toting him around. I’m unsure if it’s the strong nose or the way his lips curl into a sarcastic smile at the slightest hint of play. He’s like a child that way.

“Well you’re welcome, John Murphy.” I turn away from him, walking toward the window. Everything is so big in Polis, and it’s startling to look down from so high up. “You should go before my sister returns.”

“Go? So you’ll disobey her?”

I can’t help but giggle at that. When I turn around he looks deadly serious. “I’m not afraid of her. Not like you, sky boy.”

“Sky boy.” He chuckles. “Alright, so if I walk out that door right now you won’t be killing me?”

“Nope.” I extend a hand toward the door. He shrugs and approaches it.

“Thanks. Your name?” He asks.

“(Y/n).” He nods. He does not go anywhere. I feel my stomach knotting. Ontari would very much not like this.

“Why do you stay with your sister?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Look, I’m not going to pry the answer out of you. You clearly don’t like her.” So casually he speaks to me, though I could easily murder him right here and anyone else surely would have already. There’s a knife at my hip, another in my boot. It would be too easy. ���You could leave.”

At that, I scoff. “With you?”

“Well, I could manage getting out of here myself but it’d be a lot easier if you walked me out in chains.”

Ontari was right about him. He is smart, foxlike. I’ve always admired foxes, you know, before my sister would go in for the kill. I suddenly feel bare, but there’s no way he could know how much I’ve wanted to leave. I’ve spent my entire life in Ontari’s shadow. My perfect Natblida sister. And she has no idea the way Nia’s men would treat me behind closed doors, no idea the things I’ve done to protect her. My feet are moving now–what is it about this boy that makes me so thoughtless?

He holds out his wrists and I begin to tie them up. He flinches in pain as I pull the knot tight, and I tut at him. “Is it the sky that makes you all so weak, or just the coddling from your mothers?”

“I don’t have a mother anymore. Or a father.”

I meet his eyes, and again have no idea what I see in them.

“Then we are the same. Come on.” I yank him along with me, taking a huge breath before leaving the room. This could be very easy or end in Ontari slaying him on sight and finding some way to punish me. Why did I care if this pet of her’s died? “Hurry.” I hissed.

We’ve made it down the first hallway when I hear sounds from around the next corner. Luckily, there’s a shallow alcove in the dark to our left. I slam him into it, clasping my hand over his mouth and pressing my body tight against him. Hopefully this will be enough. He winks at me and I glare back.

Whoever it was passes us without incident, and we make the rest of our journey out undetected. Outside, he holds his hands out to me.

“I don’t think so.” I grin.

“Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into now.”

I lead him out of Polis, toward the surrounding forest where we won’t be so easily found. Pleased with our progress, I stop to rest.

“Are you letting me out of this anytime soon or should I be trying to escape?”

With my back to him, I ask the question that’s been on my mind. “You said to my sister there’s someone else. Is there?”

“There was. But, no, not anymore.” It’s a loaded answer, but one that causes my stomach to flutter regardless.

“So, you rejected your commander even without another woman on your mind?”

“We both know she isn’t a commander. And I don’t have a commander. Kind of a loner, when I’m not chained up.”

I turn. “And you find yourself chained up often, I assume?”

He shrugs. “More often than I’d like.”

I take a step toward him. If I could just read him this wouldn’t be so difficult. But if there’s one language I’m familiar with, it’s force. So, as I walk past him, I kick his knees out from under and he falls forward onto them. “So I’m to believe you don’t like being tied up?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I circle him, his eyes trained on me.

“How far would you go?” I am so out of my depth, but the way he looks up at me from below is like a drug. I could be this girl, the one who makes men fall on their knees. Maybe that’s who I am when men aren’t asking me to talk to my sister for them.

He blinks, and the first real smile I’ve seen breaks out on his face. “I’m yours.”

Those words alone send me into a frenzy. A sound escapes my throat and I grab him by the back of his head smashing my lips into his. He knows more of this than I do, I can tell, but when I back away there’s nothing mocking in the way he looks at me.

I take off my jacket first, then hesitate. This is the part I’ve always feared. “I don’t look like Ontari.” As if he couldn’t see already that she was built athletic and delicate like a doe and I was certainly not.

“And?” What an ass. But it works. I swallow and began to undress. As I do so, I don’t expect him to say anything. I know I’m bigger than her. But I can still have this. I don’t look at him until he clears his throat. “You’re beautiful.”

“What?” I croak.

“Do you need me to say it again? I want you.”

That’s it. I close the space between us. He eyes my tits from below. “Touch me.” I command.

He lifts his bound hands and raises a brow. I Shake my head ‘no.’ He'll have to figure it out. And he does. He brushes them up one leg and I shiver. He traces figure eights at the apex of my thighs. I part my legs in response, then grab his hand and bring it to my mouth. I take his first two fingers as far as they go, getting them wet, before returning them to him.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. He brushes his fingers over my folds and then parts them. The fingers find their way to my entrance and I let out a moan. In response, he dives into me, pulling his fingers almost out before sliding them back in, over and over. His index finger curls inside me and my legs threaten to give out.

“John.” His eyes shoot up to me, as though I’ve said something more jarring than his own name. “I want your tongue.”

I lean back on the rough bark of a nearby tree and tilt my pelvis forward to give him access. He wastes no time in finding my clit, swirling his tongue around it. It’s almost too much all at once and I pull back.

“Can’t handle it?” I give him a halfhearted smack across the cheek, and it gives him all the answer he needs. His mouth finds me again, this time determined and rhythmic. Fuck. Who taught him how to do that?

My fingers find their way into his hair, and I tug at it as his mouth brings me closer and closer to oblivion. As it nears, I can’t hold back my whimpering moans, and he groans in response, the vibration of it sending me over the edge entirely. Braced against the tree, my body tremors in pleasure. When I glance back down he looks too smug.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing. Although you might want to work on your knot tying.” He raises the rope I’d tied around his wrists, his face smug.

I trace a finger down the side of his face, down along his neck. When I reach his chest, I give a hard shove, knocking him back onto the ground. While he’s still in shock, I grasp his hands and pin them down. Now he looks hungry.

“Would you like to be let go?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster, fluttering my eyelashes.

He shakes his head once. His eyes do not meet me, but are focused on my breasts which dangle right above him. I know what he wants, so I lean closer and he takes one of my nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirls, and I feel the hardness in his pants against my swollen cunt. I can’t help but rub myself on it and soon can’t take it anymore.

I let go of my grasp on him so I can undo the buttons on his pants. Apparently I take too long, because he slips his hands under mine and whips his cock out for me. My eyes widen and my pussy clenches at the sight. He is much more endowed than I would’ve expected from one of the weak sky people.

“You like what you see?” He is amused, and so I give his cock a light smack. He winces.

“I could kill you.” We smile at one another. This could be a very good arrangement.

I ease myself onto his hard cock. I’m so wet from before that it slips inside me with no resistance. We both let out involuntary moans as I’m filled with him.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight.” He gasps.

His cock is long enough that I whimper when it is fully sheathed. He looks to pleased at that, so I lean forward and let his cock fall out. He growls in frustration as I thrust my clit on him.

“If you want me to put it back in, you’re going to have to beg.”

“You’re sadistic.”

“You seem to like it quite a bit.” I look down at his cock to drive my point.

“Fine. Please ride my cock?”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

“(Y/n), please ride my fucking cock, I feel like im going to burst.”

“Yes, John.” I slide him back inside and roll my hips. His hands find their way to my waist and I start to bounce on him. He feels incredible inside me, and I start to ride harder. I want his fucking come inside me.

My hands find their way around his neck, beginning to cut off blood flow. His eyes roll back, and suddenly he’s lifting me up with his hands so that his hips can do all the work. He pounds so hard that he is hitting what feels like the very end of me. I clench around him, wanting it to never fucking end.

“Harder.” He groans, and I oblige, clenching down around his throat.

His face begins to turn color and I start to wonder if I’ve gone too far when he lets out a long, animalistic groan and I feel him twitching inside me. His pleasure goes on longer than I thought possible, and the load inside me must be huge. When he’s finished, I lay forward, letting him remain inside me. We are both spent, our panting breaths nearly in tandem as I lay bare on top of him in the forest.

I place a kiss on his jaw, close to his ear and whisper. “Well, that was fun.”

He cranes his neck to look down on me, his brows furrowed slightly. “Where are you going now?”

I realize I have no idea. I’ve never been without my sister before. So I shrug.

“I’m taking you with me.”

xx

[priestessame]

The Emperor's most Favoured

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥

Emperor Zhongli x Bride reader

°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-> 🎀 ! AFAB Virgin reader! °·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯°·.¸.-> 🎀

Warnings: Oral (receiving), zhongli has a corruption kink, themes of purity, hybrid Zhongli (he has horns), fingering, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, dirty talk, overstymulation, power play. Minors DNI !

Summary: The emperor of Leiyue really dots on his new bride ଲ(ⓛ ω ⓛ)ଲ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

It was cold.

Colder than your red wedding robes had prepared you for. Even under the layers and layers of silk, a cold you couldn't shake away clung to your skin. You stretch your hands out, holding them up. The noticeable tremor told you that maybe it wasn't the cold. You pressed the anxiety down, maybe it was fear.

You drew your hands inwards, trying to get some body heat to sustain yourself. You turn, the read beaded veil jingling as you looked around the chambers.

As the last princess, although you had always been favored by your people, it wasnt the case with your own family. Your mother had been a simple musician who played the zither for the court, with no royal title of her own, the consorts looked at you like a pest to be squashed out. Your king father probably didn't even remember your name, more than happy to sell you off to the stranger tyrant. Your title had never been worth much, but the moment the proposal had come from Leuiye, you had been hailed like you were some noble born.

You wondered if this wedding would make your dead mother happy. "Your sisters will marry for honor and status." she would tell you, "But you, my dove, must marry for love and courage."

love and courage. She always used these two words together.

The truth was that they had offered you up as some sacrifice. All to save their own tails.

'They say the man is half a monster'. your sisters told you, as they dressed you up. Pretty voices dripping with malice. 'Horns growing out his head, scales on his arms.'

They said molten gold flowed through his veins.

Cold, dead, metal. Nothing human. Nothing warm.

You tightly pulled the silks around your body, remembering the ceremony. They had draped you up like one of your old dolls. Gold headdress, so heavy it was pulling at your hair. "As the last princess, this is how you serve the kingdom."

The jade ornaments were too tight around your throat, "it is high honor." voices explained, The maids ignored how badly your hands shook as they placed the bangles, "This is your duty."

You had considered running away, but even the ones who run have a home. Where would you run to?

Your legs had buckled as they walked you down to the ceremony, eyes peering past the red veil. You caught glimpses of the room. The huge high- rise celling decorated with gold and ornate blemishes. The traditional leiuyan paintings spread across every wall. Everyone of them had a flow, different scenes from an unknown myth connected to each other.

All the motifs finally met at the last wall. Stretching above you like a giant waiting to swallow you whole. The dragon on the wall was nothing short of terrifying. Slitted venomous eyes, jaw hanging open, still holding a severed body between its teeth. But you couldn't help but admire its beauty. How could man not worship a creature this majestic. Your heart stopped as you noticed the figure sitting against the painting. Your lord husband sat in his gold wedding robes. The picture of a dragon coiled like a halo behind him. His bare arms rippled gold, stag-like horns curling on either side of his head. A veil separating his own face from your sight. But your stomach dropped, the real fear of the situation crashing down into you. You didn't want this, you wanted to turn around and start sprinting.

You didn't realise you had stopped walking until the handmaiden gave you a push. You almost stumbled over the hem of your dress as they pulled you beside him, hands on your shoulders manovering you to sit down. Your knees gave out as you hit the cushion. The room spun, as the priest stood up atonce, starting the ceremony.

His long hands spreading out as he welcomed the guests. But with the panic rising you couldn't make sense of the time. In a few minutes he turned towards the two of you, he gestured towards you.

"Face him." One of the handmaiden's hissed under her breath. You turned a little too quickly.

Your heart hammered as he lifted your veil slowly. His face was devastatingly beautiful. You were realising he wasn't really human at all, the lines of his face, the gold fleckled iris settling on you, the way his mouth hitched in a faint smile as he drank you in. For those seconds you felt his power wash over you. You could almost see its color, golden and yellow, smelling of fresh earth. It encompassed you entirely, moving past your body flooding through the entire room.

You blinked in the yellow light as his fingers curled around your chin as he brought the wine to your lips. His touch seemed to burn into your skin.

You knew about this part of the ceremony, the man always drank first, a rendition of how a wife always puts her husband first, how she must be the first to sacrifice, But the dragon emperor reached for you instead. Your heart hammered as he lifted your veil slowly, keeping it pulled away from your face from one hand. The second brought the wine cup to your lips. A hushed silence fell among the guests.

It was such a curious gesture, tentative, wondering if you would take the step at all. Or refuse the change of tradition like a good bride. For a second you coud't tell if he meant it or if it was a jest. A funny prank for the guests to laugh at.

You reach forward, taking a small sip of the bitter liquid. He lets his thumb linger on your cheek before letting the veil separate you again. You were still dazed from his beauty as he placed the same cup to his mouth.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥

You sighed, sinking down into the soft mattress under you. It was heavy with the sap-sweet smell of flower petals. Idly you picked one of the silk flower petals and crushed it in your hands. The chilly wind carried a strong fragrance around the room. A little too strong, you sneezed so hard that your headrest jingled and you cussed aloud.

There was a deep chuckle.

You jumped a little, not realizing he had already entered. Indeed, the emperor himself. Traditionally he should have been in red silks to match yours, but the Lord of Geo was draped in all the shades of the earth.

Now the veil pulled from his face, he looked far too beautiful. His eyes nestled on your smiling.

Long earth-brown hair tumbled over his shoulders. A delicate golden belt went around his waist suspending tendrils of beads down to his feet.

His amber eyes went around the room, "are you not cold beloved?" You felt heat rise to your cheeks, "a- little."

This was the first time he had spoken to you. As he neared, your heart skipped a beat, walking to a dying lamp and lighting it again. There was a low chuckle, "I'm sure your family would be upset if I let my bride gets a cold on her first night here."

You laughed sarcastically at his comment, "They do not care." You said before you could catch yourself. You practically bit your tongue, "I-I didn't mean that your grace I shouldn't have-"

Zhongli's gait changed, "Were they not kind to you?"

You tightened your jaw making sure you don't show the quiver as you spoke. "They won't care if you send me back in a carriage or in a bag." The room darkened, the cold festering around you. A mocking smile slipped on your face as You shook your head, " I'm the last princess, the leftover."

His eyes softened, "Is that what you felt there?"

His voice echoed out, and his fingers touched your face delicately. Urging you to look at him.

The emotion in his eyes shocked you. "is that what they told you when you were sent here?" His voice hummed with an ancient power. "That you were sent here as a scapegoat? Against your will? To be ridiculed and slaughtered?"

Your lip wobbled as you tried a brave face, "yes."

Zhongli sat down beside you, his fingers brushing away the beads from your face. "I… do not wish to keep you here against your wish."

Your eyes wavered, unable to meet his, "Although I didn't have much say on being sent here, I won't be trouble I promise. There isn't a home for me there anymore, whether I wish it to be or not."

You shook your head, "I'm realizing there never really was."

"You're not some last princess here." He said, "You're the empress of Leiuye." He said, pressing down the anger that threatened to smite anyone that would have regarded you that way.

You blinked at him, eyes fluttering as he slipped his obsidian fingers through yours. His large palm encased yours. The warmth of his touch shocked you. In a strange way, you still expect him to be cold. But touching him felt like grazing fire.

"I don't aspire to make you someone that lives in my shadow, I want someone who can take the weight of this crown." he said, "And I knew I saw that fire the first time I saw you. I do not know these people or understand their minds. But if their actions have caused you to harden your heart, to pull up a fortress, then I am not so small as to force you to take me. If they haven't been able to break you, I don't doubt anything will. And it is for that courage I see in you, that I shall strive for your acceptance, as long as you demand it."

"Will you allow me that my queen?" He asked.

Your heart hammered, And your heart spoke, "Yes."

Something in his gaze shifted and he scooped you up, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. Its like you had lost the sense of your body when he kissed you. You felt his hands slide around your waist, pulling you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

He tasted your skin with his lips and teeth, tugging and pulling the skin on your neck, his hands wandering in your hair, angling your head as he continued to spoil you. Everything about him was hot, his touch searing into you. Zhongli dragged his hands along your body, hands running up your torso to grope your breasts, grabbing at your love handles.

"Y-Your grac-" you words are cut short as his fingers slid past your lips, gliding inside your mouth. He chuckled watching you gag, trying to take his fingers. You really were so pure. Your tongue tried to keep up with his fingers exploring your mouth, obediently sliding over his long digits.

"You have such a pretty mouth, love." he said, fingers reaching the back of your throat, "Why don't you call me morax? hm? I am your husband after all."

You gulped as he slid his fingers out, coated in your saliva, "M-morax" you mimed.

Something feral flashed in his amber eyes, and the thrill went straight to your core. "Very good."

His mouth latched onto yours with a hunger that wasn't there before. Whatever patience he held before seemed to crumble. His tongue forced itself into your mouth, you moaned into his mouth. It felt like the ocean was in his mouth, his warm taste consuming you. He growled softly as he kissed you, his hand holding your jaw in place. You found yourself practically clawing for him, fingers digging into his robes as you twirled your tongue in his mouth.

The perversion clouded your mind as he continued, you rolled your tongue over his fingers. Suddenly feeling very bold, you liked his fingers exploring your mouth you wanted to taste him more and more.

He pulled the headrest from your head, pressing soft kisses on your face. A kiss for every gold thread braided into your hair.

Your fingers no longer trembled as you worked on the knots that tied his robes. Although you blushed as you undid his robes dutifully. You were such a sweet little thing, so pliant so pure. He relished the small gasp that left your lips as he latched his mouth on your neck. Zhongli didn't just want to fuck you, he wanted to devour you whole.

He hugged you from the back, dragging his palms against your breasts, fingers grabbing at your skin greedily. He latched his mouth to yours again, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste. Wetness pooled between your legs. You rubbed your thighs sadly as you realised you wanted him to touch you there. So fucking badly.

His hand lazily caressed your inner thigh, the featherlight touch sending goosebumps across your body. You jumped as his fingers brushed higher. He chuckled, the sound resonating in his chest. You let your head roll back on his shoulder as his other hand reached for your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple. You couldn't help but squirm as Zhongli toyed with you. The arousal grew, flooding your body with a strange heat you had never felt before. His fingers on your thigh inched closer to your core, "have you touched yourself before, beloved?"

You shook your head, mind still reeling from his tantalizing touch, "N-no Your grace." You managed.

"hm?" he mused, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "That's a shame," he breathed, "Guess I'll have to figure out how to pleasure you on my own."

His fingers reached deep inside your core, rubbing along your walls. You yelped out his name as his fingers curved sliding wickedly inside you. His mouth still working at your neck, sneaking up to draw out languid, hot kisses. With every moment your desire for him grew. He laughed in your mouth as you sucked on his tongue, practically growling at how wet you were for him.

He continued to praise you to take away the burn of his fingers thrusting inside you. "Such a sweet, lovely thing~" he mused as he continued his lazy torturous rhythm.

He held you in his arms, your back against his chest. The inner of your thighs were slick from the hours of teasing. His fingers sunk to the knuckles, it was embarrassing just how riled up he got you from his fingers. You felt his cock harden, pressing against the small of your back needy-ly.

You groaned practically arching your back to feel more of him. But Zhongli just held you in place. His cock was painfully hair, pressing against the flimsy fabric of his pants, weeping at the tip. He drank in the whine as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, so fucking warm, his cock twitched again begging for attention. He traced his fingers down your torso, the swell of your breasts to the dip of your stomach, well his cock will just have to fucking wait. He had to taste you first.

He placed you down on your back, watching as you sink into the fabric. His eyes drank in your body, you were completely bare for him, thighs pushed apart. His wedding robes hung loosely around his shoulders, his bare chest heaving. His golden hands dug into your thighs, spreading them further.

You couldn't help but yelp as the cold air hit your folds, the humiliation of the position was too much to handle. Morax kissed your knee, "Now, now, little one." He hummed against your skin, "Don't be shy, you're so beautiful like this," his thumb brushed over your folds, featherlight. Your hips buckled under his touch, heart hammering with anticipation. His fingers dug into your plush thighs as his mouth lowered, trailing hot kisses down your thigh. You could see the lust pool into his eyes like molten gold, just the intensity of his gaze making your legs tremble.

careful not to hurt you with his horns, as he nestled between your legs. You felt his breath against your core. Your breath hitched as you realized what he was going to do.

His tongue felt warm and very arousing against you. He pressed soft kisses on your clit "so sweet" he growled out.

Just the sight of him nestled between your legs, dragging his tongue along your deepest parts threatened to push you over the edge. You felt a strange pressure build in you, blazing pleasure rising in your body. Your knitting into his hair and you grinded yourself against his face, demanding more friction.

As the coil in your stomach snapped, the pleasure made your eyes fly open. Zhongli's grip around your hips held you in place as you spasmed around his tongue. Your grip on his hair loosened as you panted out, too overwhelmed from your first orgasm. Zhongli growled out against your core, flicking his tongue over clit making you squeal out from over-sensitivity. He chuckled kissing up your thigh, dragging his teeth over the supple flesh.

The high from the orgasm dulled and whatever fear you had about this moment flew out the window. You wanted him to completely own you, take your body in every way, to completely ruin you-

He squeezed your face lovingly, pulling you in a kiss where you could taste yourself on his lips.

His hands brushed the hair off your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Adoring your face.

You actually felt loved. Your heart felt so full as he reached forward claiming your mouth again. His hand moved down to your thigh, hooking his palm under your knee, raising your knee to your chest. You mewled as you felt his tip brush against your folds. "Morax~ ungh, please."

"Patience, my love." He murmured against you, dragging his cock along your folds, the tip digging into your soft core just enough to have you begging for him.

"Can't have you getting hurt now love."

You squirmed as he continued to tease you, gathering the slick from your core as he enjoyed how fucking warm you were.

His tip finally pressed against your entrance and your hips practically buckled with excitement. Zhongli cupped your face, making you look at him, "If it's too much, you must tell me immediately, understood?" You nodded feverishly, finding him torturously endearing now. The smirk told you he read your mind.

Your eyes rolled back as he finally, fucking finally eased his cock into you. You felt the pinching drag as he pushed each inch in. He was big for you, your walls struggling to accommodate his girth. But the pain of the intrusion only lasted for a second before you were completely consumed in the pleasure of just feeling so full. Your walls fluttered around him, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that he was actually inside. You felt the warm tickle of blood down your leg as he bottomed into you. Morax continued to handle you like glass, rubbing your sides, singing you sweet things asking if it hurt too bad and if he should stop. But all you could think of was how badly you wanted him to move. To have some sort of friction.

Your fingers fisted in his silky hair and you pulled him closer, teeth knocking as you pulled him in a messy kiss.

"Show me you're mine emperor."

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥

With every passing moment, his patience grew thinner, head overcome with lust. He couldn't take his eyes off how his cock slid into your gushy hole, like you were made for him.

He loved seeing you under him, eyes glassy from the pleasure, a stupid smile on your face as he pounded into you. He had finally broken you, stripped away the shyness. He wanted you to use him to find all the crevices of love, to explore what pleasured you the most.

To take from him everything you were denied before. It had been hours of him fucking into you, he had already pushed you over the limit, but he could tell how you didn't want to stop yet. How his bride was just as insatiably obsessed with him as he was with her.

Your legs trembled as he pulled you on top, jerking his hips upwards, his blunt tip fucking deeper into your cunt. His pace grew more and more ruthless, your mind blanked, the world around you blending into the pure pleasure of his cock slamming into your sweet spot. Your glazed eyes pinned on his, hands pressed weakly against his chest. His fingers grazed your sides as you rode him out, hips meeting his thrusts halfway.

The curl of desire was so strong, your nails dug into his chest, drawing blood. He growled, the sound going straight to your core. For the first time in your life, you had a person to call your own.

Your eyes pinned on his fucked out face, the red flush running down his neck, eyes slightly glazed as he surrendered to you more and more with every thrust. An expression you would get to keep to yourself. You arched your back, quickening the pace. The way his cock glided inside you was just so fucking good. You could feel him twitch inside you just aching for release. For the last princess who was born with nothing, you were just owning the greatest emperor in the land.

The knot in your stomach finally snapped, your eyes rolled back, body going limp from one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your walls spasmed uncontrollably against his girth, the feeling of your warm walls squeezing against him, sent the emperor over the edge. With a grunt he gripped your waist, the tip of the cock pressed deliciously against your cervix as he came. You watch his glorious face contort into pure pleasure as he filled you up with ropes of his thick cum. His grip on your waist eased and you collapsed onto his chest, panting hard.

You felt his cock soften inside you before slipping out, eliciting a whine from you. You panted against his warm chest, his arms wrapped around your body. His fingers ran through your sweat-soaked hair, murmuring praises, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, "So well, you did so well, beloved-"

His sex-heavy voice sent warmth flooding through your veins, from the roots of your hair to your fingertips. You buried your face in his chest as he hugged you closer. His voice purred out more praises, but you couldn't hear them anymore. The chamber felt blazing hot, eyes getting heavy as the exhaustion finally hit you. If this is why people in Leuyie kept their chambers always cold, maybe you could get used to it.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥ (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ (--) ♥

AHHHHHHHHH I have wanted to write this one for so long have fun✌🐜

[dr-spectre]

My Splatoon Idol Headcanons!

Im so normal about them, like totally...... (note, some of them may be more serious than lighthearted so keep that in mind. i have warned you.)

Callie

Has ADHD 

Got a permanent version of the octopus tattoo that she keeps hidden with make-up when on stage. She sees it as a reminder that she has grown and to always believe that she is loved and to never listen to the dark thoughts that lie in her head

Hides most of her issues from everyone no matter how big or small because she’s scared to upset her family and friends. She'll only tell what's going on with her if someone REALLY presses her about it 

Always talks to Frye after each Splatfest loss to make sure she’s okay. She cheered extremely loudly when Team Bucket List won

Can be kind of clingy around her friends and family 

Marie

Is on the autism spectrum but has not told anyone due to feeling shame about it 

Considers Agent 3 family and treats them extremely nicely. She knew what happened to them in the Deepsea Metro

Massive Pokémon fan 

Constantly worries about Callie and was told by her that she willingly left with the Octarians. Marie checks up on her every day and needs to make a call with her otherwise she’ll get fidgety and restless 

Best friends with Marina and Big Man and they hang out when their schedules all line up

Pearl

Used to have an eating disorder that affected her health badly before she met Marina, she is currently working on eating better with Marina's help

Feels guilt and shame over being very rich and tries to do all she can to help out less fortunate people via charity and music 

Has sleeping problems and needs Marina to be in the same bed with her to fall asleep 

She still keeps up with the heavy metal scene and loves seeing new artists pop up

Loves outer space and being high in the air

Marina

Is on the autism spectrum and has told Pearl about it which she accepts and still loves her all the same

Wears her headphones as much as she can because she’s very sensitive to certain sounds and other sensations. If she becomes too overstimulated, she needs Pearl’s help to calm her down 

She loves to ramble on social media about her special interests and machinery

Is a workaholic and doesn’t like to relax for long periods of time, she must be doing something 

Wants to adopt Eight as her child but she hasn't gotten around to it or asked Eight about it due to her schedule

Shiver

Has a strained relationship with her father and mother and has low contact with them 

Has an addiction to juice and can chug down several boxes of it every day, she has kept this addiction hidden from Frye and Big Man but they have noticed an odd amount of juice boxes in the garbage 

Seeks companionship and deep connections with people badly but hides it with a cold exterior because she's scared of getting hurt or betrayed. She sometimes cries at night because she thinks she’s all alone and wants to be held 

Was an extreme perfectionist at high school and would get upset if she got decent or poor grades

Wears pajamas all the time at home and isn't the most hygienic 

Frye

Has a plushie collection that she keeps on her bed 

May have ADHD but she has not gotten a diagnosis for it yet 

Has issues with analysis paralysis and can never decide things easily 

Can be a bit too overbearing with her siblings but she means well and loves them to death 

Is deep down insecure about her appearance from seeing comments about her body online and trains her body constantly to feel good about herself 

Big Man

Is constantly overworked and wishes he could just relax

Has a vinyl collection where he has boxes upon boxes of vinyl records 

Is secretly a big fan of Off the Hook and the Squid Sisters 

He’s a pro bowling player and takes it VERY seriously even amongst friends 

Hates getting into arguments and gets very emotional even at the slightest of criticisms 

[dalilacherie]

Could I request a little fic??? One with a platonic curtis sister who is the youngest but closest to soda. A piece where it's the night they learn their parents died and she just shuts down. Platonic soda cuddles please 🥺

Thank you!!

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

[𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 & 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: I made this into a 'y/n' type fic, so it's in second person (fyi, 'y/n' is never actually said in the story it's just in that style 👌)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,004

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions/description of blood

It felt empty. The echoes of footsteps, hushed whispers, and the quiet sobs from the funeral still hung in the air. It was a few hours after you and your brothers buried your parents, and you couldn’t shake the heavy, suffocating sadness. It settled in your chest like a lead weight, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but sit in silence.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the wall. The funeral dress you wore felt like a costume, something unnatural and foreign. You wanted to tear it off and throw it away, but you didn’t have the energy to move. The silence was deafening, pressing in on you from all sides.

The door creaked open, and you looked up to see Soda standing there. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired, the grief evident in every line of his face. He walked over and sat beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, his voice rough from crying. “How ya holdin’ up?”

You didn’t answer, just stared at the floor. The words wouldn’t come. You felt like you were sinking into a dark, endless pit, and you didn’t know how to climb out.

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta talk if you don’t want to. Just… just know I’m here, alright?”

You nodded slightly, leaning into him. His warmth was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming coldness you felt inside. He rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I miss ‘em too,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I miss ‘em so much. But we’re gonna get through this. We got each other, right?”

You buried your face in his shirt, the fabric damp from your tears. “I don’t know how,” you choked out, your voice barely audible.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Soda said, his voice steady despite the tears you knew he was holding back. “We’re Curtis kids. We’re tough. We gotta stick together now more than ever.”

You clung to him, his words a lifeline in the sea of grief threatening to drown you. He held you tighter, his presence a comforting anchor. For a while, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the silence filled with unspoken promises and shared pain.

Eventually, Soda shifted, lying back on the bed and pulling you with him. He tucked you under his arm, holding you close. “Try to get some rest, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “I’ll be right here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You nodded, closing your eyes. The exhaustion, both physical and emotional, began to pull you under. But with Soda’s steady heartbeat against your ear, you felt a small measure of peace.

As you drifted off to sleep, you heard him whisper, “We’re gonna be alright. I promise.”

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when the nightmare started. It was dark and chaotic, the kind of dream that wraps around you like a vice, making it impossible to breathe. You saw your parents, their faces twisted in fear, calling out for you. You tried to reach them, but no matter how hard you ran, they always seemed just out of reach. The scene shifted, and suddenly you were back at the crash site, the smell of burning metal and the blare of sirens filling your senses. You turned, and there was Soda, lying on the ground, covered in blood.

You woke with a start, your heart pounding in your chest. The room was dark, the shadows twisting into shapes that reminded you of your nightmare. You turned to Soda, lying beside you, his face peaceful in sleep. But there was blood on him – dark, sticky blood that soaked his shirt and pooled around him.

Panic surged through you, and you shook him hard. “Soda, wake up! Please, wake up!” you cried, your voice breaking. He didn’t stir, his body limp and unresponsive. Terror clawed at your throat, and you screamed, a raw, desperate sound that echoed through the room.

The scream jolted you awake for real this time. Your chest heaved with frantic breaths, and you looked around wildly, trying to orient yourself. Soda was right there, sitting up beside you, his eyes wide with concern.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s just a dream,” he said, his voice gentle but urgent. He reached for you, pulling you into his arms. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You clung to him, the lingering terror of the nightmare making you shake. “I… I saw you… there was blood… I thought…” you choked out between sobs.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he soothed, stroking your hair. “It was just a bad dream, sis. Just a dream.”

His words were like a balm, slowly calming the frantic beat of your heart. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the realness of his warmth grounding you.

“I was so scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I thought I lost you too.”

“I know,” Soda said softly, holding you tighter. “But I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re both safe.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. Soda’s arms were strong around you, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

“Let’s try to get some more sleep, alright?” he suggested gently. “I’ll stay right here with you.”

You hesitated, the fear of the nightmare still fresh in your mind. But Soda’s reassuring presence gave you the courage to nod. “Okay,” you whispered.

He lay back down, keeping you close. “Just close your eyes. I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. Promise.”

You nestled against him, the sound of his heartbeat steady and calming. Gradually, the terror of the nightmare began to fade, replaced by the warmth and security of your brother’s embrace. As you drifted back to sleep he held onto his promise.

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

Your shadow is in whitfoshire Pt 1

AGAD Pippa Fitz Amobi x fem reader

Summary: Cambridge University, England. Pippa Fitz Amobi, still haunted by the events of her past investigations, stumbles upon a new enigma. The campus buzzes with rumors about the girl with dark circles beneath her eyes and a smile that conceals secrets. Pippa senses the weight behind that forced smile, the pain hidden within. The whispers echo through the halls: "Y/N? Oh, everyone knows her. Her family was at the center of that infamous case three years ago. Her older sister Amelia vanished without a trace, think she was abducted, and Y/N was the last person to see her alive. Quite Tragic annit?. The whole family unraveled-her barrister father lost everything to gambling, everything. her mother became quiet, doesn’t speak much. Yet Y/N remains the sole beacon of normalcy”

Warnings: LONG, A bit wordier than my other ficts so beware, Pippa Fitz Amobi being a curious cat at your arrival. AGAD PIP, MENTIONS OF BOOK TWO AND THREE IN DETAIL, Heavy mystery incorporated, pessimistic Pippa. Dark eerie thoughts. First try at anything in the mystery/thriller realm so take this with a grain of salt. To be edited at a later date. Part 1 of 4. Some light groundwork to set the scene and give a nice taste.

words: 6.453k

It was hard not to notice you, with your hands pinned behind your back and your eyes trailing the chancellor as he spoke softly to you. The pupils in the common room had all halted, breathes leaving their lungs as soon as you came into view, it was odd and distracting enough that Pip had to lift her head from her computer. Her glacial eyes took note of how the chancellor spoke to you all with soft eyes and a calm demeanor, almost like he was afraid of saying the wrong words.

Lord Sainsbury was not a very feeling man, nor was he a robot, but this odd cross of playing jacket potato and treating you with kid gloves piqued Pip’s interest. The chattering of the other students made it hard for Pip to read you, that and the fact that you were feet away, face set in such a warm smile that Pip was sure it was a ruse. For one thing the way you held yourself was evidence enough that you were aware of the eyes peering at you from the common room. Aware of the comments and hushed opinions.

Your hair was up in a decent ponytail, slicked back with ease, a smart pants suit adorning your body, only the best for Cambridge.  Pip couldn’t help but let her eyes take in the way you chuckled at Lord Sainsbury, nodding with a kind sharp smile, your mouth moving in a whisper. From the way lord Sainsbury chuckled widely, a deep belly laugh Pip knew you were quite humorous, getting Lord Sainsbury to laugh or even crack a simple smile was the pupil’s life work, and somehow you had managed to do the impossible in a matter of minutes.

There was just something about you Pip could not quite put her finger on, though your face was eerily familiar, the lines and sharp cheekbones prominent. Pip hadn’t a clue why you looked so familiar. Had she seen you somewhere? Passed you on the pavement?  That is till her sharp ears caught the tail end of Stella Chapman’s gossiping from the far end of the table.  Pippa could sense the weight of your forced smile. could feel it in her bones. Usually, Pip wasn’t one to care for idle gossip, not if there was no concrete reason for it. She was already branded as Cambridge’s own “private detective” since the second popular season of her podcast, and try as Pip may she couldn’t outrun little Kilton, or the looming shadow of Jason Bell. She had momentarily quit her podcast, looking for some other options to pursue, options that wouldn’t make her mother gray with worry.

That wouldn’t turn her into a separate person, as she allowed the past cases too. That wouldn’t make her mind think back to the blood on her hands and the feel of the metallic hammer in her palm. The feel of duct tape sticking to her cheek.  The heat of the roar of the fire as the smoke entered her lungs.

But it was the way you stood, face innocent and kind, yet something dark and sinister in your clouded eyes that made something in Pip preen. That too familiar dopamine effect, the same rush of victory and stomach-churning high she would get when her inner curiosity got the better of her. The same feeling she had felt the day she had connected the dots of who had murdered Andie Bell. The same rush, the after effect leaving her high and wanting nothing more than to sink her teeth into another case and maybe the fact that you were so achingly attractive had something to do with the way her ears perked up too. But she would never admit it aloud.

“y/n? Everyone knows her. Her family was at the center of that whitfoshire case two years ago, my father worked as a lead barrister for it. Never thought she’d be coming round here. Her older sister Amelia vanished without a trace, the police and my father believe she was abducted and I suppose what’s worse is that y/n was the last person to see her alive. Quite tragic really. The whole family unraveled- her father, the barrister for Whitfoshire solicitors lost almost all the family's fortune to gambling and had to open their estate for viewings from what my mums said. Not to mention the family’s reputation was slandered by the media. A sad lot they make. Yet y/n remains the sole beacon of normalcy it seems. Wonder how she managed to pay tuition”. The way the last sentence fell off Stella Chapman's lips made Pip’s fingers curl around her keyboard. One lesson Pip had learned from her investigating, people can be cruel. Can say the most vile things without a care in the world, can do the most vile things without repercussions.

That’s what her time had taught her. Elliot ward, Max hastings, Howie bowers, Becca bell, Charlie green, Jason bell. They all seemed to loom in her mind, like ghosts she couldn’t quite get rid of. Taunting her.

“she’s probably a trust fund baby, did you see her clothes? It’s a wonder she can afford that, from what my mum says her dad has been shagging his secretary-“the lid of the silver laptop pip’s fingers had been clutching had slammed, the echo vibrating the whole table, causing the many cups of tea to ricochet. Stella Chapman’s eyes immediately widened at Pip’s outburst. Her lips twisted into an uncomfortable grimace, “Oh Pippa! I didn’t know you were sitting with us. I don’t wish to offend” she began, sugar-covered words trying to snake out of her pink-frosted lips.

Pip’s throat gulped; her eyes somehow darker than usual.  “Perhaps instead of providing idle gossip and analyzing a person’s life we could have some respect and be more sensitive to the topic. Not everyone is as unscathed as they seem” Pippa managed to get out, her accent smooth as she packed up her things, eying the group who all seemed to shut their mouths like school children being reprimanded by their mother. All sunken eyes and red cheeks.

“of course!! We didn’t mean to seem-“ Pippa with a quiet ease slung her knapsack over her shoulder, her signature saccharine smile on her lips, “Of course not Stella, you would never spread such idle gossip on a new pupil”. It was said with such sweet spite that as Pip turned on her heels she could almost feel the anger pulsing of the girl. It was a welcome feeling.

Pippa had found she had less patience these days, often feeling like a bomb ticking ever so slightly, eager to explode in the most mundane situations, and Stella Chapman had picked the wrong day because if anyone knew the reality of missing persons it was Pippa Fitz Amobi.

They had no clue the amount of emotional trauma she carried around like a knapsack too big for her back, of all the secrets she would greatly take to the grave, of all the words she had been called throughout the years following her involvement in the cases. It was akin to a slap in the face, Stella Chapman's words. Even as she had walked the school’s corridors, stopping into the library to check in some of her maths textbooks still her mind refused to stop, analyzing your facial features, the slight curve of your jaw, your eyes that were shaped in such a familiar position..

Pip shrugged it off afterward, she had much more important matters to tend to, it was a Friday evening and the campus would be closing, Pip still needed to grab a few things before her drive back home, she had promised her mother she would be home for dinner, after having missed so many. Josh was getting taller at this point every time she would see him, just another indication of the life she was missing out on. But how could she ever be the same Pip? Not after everything she had been through. That jubilant, clever girl was lost, lost in the wind just like Andie had been. And she was afraid she would never get her back.

It was at this thought that she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder and the scent of ghastly chewing tobacco. Headmaster Sainsbury. Lifting her steel blue eyes from her current book she held in her pale fingers she watched as the man smiled, bowing his head in regards to her. Pip almost smiled, Mr Sainsbury looked so out of place standing in the dusty old archive of the library, clutching his indoor hat to his fingers. He wasn’t exactly a large man, portly in stature.

Pip immediately put down her book, straightening her posture, “Mr. Sainsbury, what a lovely surprise, what can I do for you, sir? I was just about to pack for home, my mum is making Yorkshire pudding and I wouldn’t want to be late. Am I missing any assignments? Is this about my marks on my recent exam?”

Mr Sainsbury’s lips lifted into a creased smile, his hands coming up to wave the notion away almost sensing the young girl’s anxious thoughts, “Oh It pleases me to have such a young bright pupil such as you Miss Amobi in our midst. Do not fear Darling you shall make your dinner and as for your assignments, you are simply soaring through. I simply came here to ask rather a big favour from you, you see there is a new pupil joining our fine establishment- the young girl I escorted to the office today” At the mention of you Pip’s eyes shot to the man, her eyes narrowed.

“You see, she needs a tour around the campus, nothing big just a proper guide around the school and I-“ It was obvious Mr. Sainsbury was beating about the bush, it was almost like he couldn't quite make the words fly out of his mouth. Like he was struggling even to get the long-winded syllables out.

Pip’s eyebrows lifted, intrigue dancing in her blue irises, “You what sir?”

Mr. Sainsbury sighed, looking ashamed and somber as he eyed the stacks of wooden books before whispering softly, “Given the matter that surrounds her family, this is a great opportunity for Miss Y/N, She has bravely decided to get on with her life despite the-“ his eyes lifted as to find the words, “Unfortunate events that have been associated with her family. I had a whole list of well-qualified top marked students to welcome her but I soon realized after her little introduction in the great hall that she needs a rather caring hand, and seeing as how I and many other educators at this university hold you in such high esteem miss Amobi I find it is only fitting for you to give her the welcome tour, as you have a familiar shall we say experience with this topic?”

Pip blinked, the sides of her mouth creasing into a confused smile, her mind telling her to kindly decline, eying her yellowed watch on her wrist, it would be half past three in a few minutes, she had planned rather hastily a quick nip into her dorm to grab a few essentials before she made the small hour trip back to Little Kilton. Her mum had probably already prepared the table and made the mince pies that had been her favorite since childhood. But the way Pip’s heart seemed to dance at the thought of you made her mind take over, and before she knew it she was agreeing.

Mr Sainsbury looked relieved at her words, a smile so big and round filling his lips. “Wonderful!! Thank you so much, Pippa, this really means a great deal to me and her family. Now if you hurry you’ll just about catch her. She’s just in the chapel”.

Before Pip could ask any questions, the man was gone. Pippa eyed her watch, her mind logical as she thought, it would be half past four by the time she finished the tour, it would be cutting it close but she would still make it back in time for dinner. So, lugging her knapsack again before making a beeline up the old steps she quickly made it to her dorm, gathering her keys and a few gifts she had gotten for Cara and Ravi into her bag before descending the steps. Her steps were rather uncoordinated as she flew through the school’s corridors, eyes taking in the wristwatch as she ran up the chapel steps, excusing herself as she flew past the small number of pupils that were left loitering around the campus, her grip on her knapsack tightening as she came into view of the great medieval hall, eyes searching the crowd for you. Her eyes zeroed in and her heart seemed to leap as she caught sight of you, sitting near the far edge of the long table, book in hand, the reflection of the stained-glass mirror making the colour of your eyes pop. Her chest was heaving wildly as she willed her feet to move, the feeling so foreign. Her eyes took In the way your feet crossed under the table, your outfit now a rather studious aesthetic that made her knees weak.

Sighing, she made it in front of you, and your eyes flitted up to meet her own, and Pip couldn’t breathe. “Hi…. I’m Pip” she settled on, sighing and offering her best smile, “Mr Sainsbury sent me to be your official Cambridge tour guide” she spoke, offering her hand. You put your book down, eyes flitting down her outfit, your lips quirking up, “Did you run here? You look quite out of breath” you assessed. Pip’s cheeks blushed but she nodded, “Very attuned to observation Miss-“you smiled, getting up from your spot, lifting your backpack on your shoulder, Pip listened as you told her your name, offering a small smile. Hand in hers as you shook it. Your fingers felt hot in her touch, and she quickly pulled back, stepping in front of you with her back turned to the hall, “Shall we begin your tour?”.

Pip began showing you around campus, regaling you with stories, the history of the school, and even showing you the original medieval structure of the school. She was keen to answer as many questions as she could, she took note of the way you were rather quiet, hands behind your back, eyes still that dark cloud, but just enough smile to look appealing, to fool just about anyone, but Pip wasn’t just anyone.

It was while Pip was walking you back to the dorms that you spoke, this time rather fast and anxious, “Please don’t find this presumptuous of me and if I am talking out of turn please forgive me but I’ve heard of the cases you solved, I just- I wanted you to know that as someone whose sister is-I wanted to thank you for what you did for Andie Bell and Jamie Reynolds, you gave my parents and me a lot of hope ”.

The words took her off guard, and she only eyed you. You were walking beside her, slowly, your skirt ruffling in the wind, cheeks a pale hue, but eyes remaining on the floor, the ghostly feeling of somberness overtaking the air. It was nice to be thanked, Pip was grateful for that, not many people had thanked her, not the Bells, the media, and certainly not the Police. They all saw her as meddlesome, as something to contain rather than set free.

But here you were, thanking her with your clouded eyes and broken stuttered words. It stirred Pip’s stomach, the sight of you in the pale winding down sun, looking as strong as you could, putting on a brave face, getting out in the world even if you wanted nothing more than to shut it out.

“I did what any decent person would do” Pippa stated, “In fact, I know many people who are inclined to disagree with you, and sometimes I think I am rather dense to have meddled in that-I-I allowed myself to get so consumed by the cases, I-I didn’t see the way I intruded into people's lives-“ Pip didn’t know why she felt so safe divulging her thoughts to you, perhaps she felt some sort of kindred spirit in you, you knew what it felt to be on the receiving end of her leering, knew what it felt like to lose someone and have no answers given. And perhaps it was a welcome feeling getting all these thoughts out.  You stayed quiet for a second, your pale fingers tugging the ends of your jumper in a nervous act, Pippa watched your eyes turn downcast, your eyes glossy, but even as you spoke your voice never wavered.

“That’s because they had something to hide…I wish the police had been that lucky with my sister it’s been two years. Everybody says it gets better with time, but it really doesn't. It tends to mess with people's minds, shows you how fragile a human mind can be".

Pippa's head tilted as you continued walking, she knew what you meant. She had seen this to be true with Jamie Rennoylds case, had seen how Joanna and Connor had reacted, almost like they had lost a part of there soul. She remembers the dark undercurrents beneath Connor's usually pale eyes, the rattling of the desk as they both sat in class, and the dread that had swooped inside her stomach at the missing yellow knife. She remembers and remembers till she can see the image of Jason Bell clouding her mind, his sweaty perspiring skin as he held her to the ground. Her hands had begun to shake, and she quickly rubbed them against the fabric of her jeans, to prove to herself she was safe, to ground her rapid heartbeat, to prove to her brain that there was no blood splattered on the edges of her fingers.

Her eyes turned to you, her cobalt eyes tracing over your figure as you walked ahead of her, heading back to a quiet campus, the wind creating a cool undercurrent that whipped your hair, pulling at the edges of your slick ponytail and Pip wondered how you felt about the whole ordeal. About Amelia, the case, did you go to bed at night with an uncomfortable pit in your stomach? Did you replay happy memories over and over to yourself? rationalize with your brain? use logic to outway the way your world felt?

The way you had just worded it, your eyes a dark haze as you spoke the words like you were in some deep dark space, filled with haunting thoughts, possibilities of the unknown, of dark shadows that would follow you wherever you went. Like a ghost that you couldn't get rid of, like a silent companion. 'It tends to mess with people's minds, shows you how fragile a human mind can be"

Had it messed with yours? Were you as eccentric as she was? were you unsatisfied with the justice system? The whitfoshire police? just how fragile was your mind?

These thoughts plagued Pip as she brought you back to the pupil's dorm, her eyes tracing over you like she was assessing a case, like she was analyzing every movement, from the way your fingers stretched to accommodate the door handle, and it was then she noticed. Crescent moons on your inner palms, indented into your skin like a tattoo. It was hard to notice for others, but she was a keen observer after her cases. She was paranoid and often times looking over her shoulders. Eying teens as they trotted the campus with a cup of alcohol clutched in their hands. Because deep down she knew just what happened when you engaged in those activities. It meant heartache, hurting those you loved, bad choices, and in the worst-case scenario, death.

At the thought images of Andie Bell invaded her mind. It was funny how that worked. How Pip had never met the girl, but she knew her secrets, knew she slept with a pink bunny, and had a childhood pet named Roadie. Knew she had wanted nothing more than to save her baby sister from the same fate as the other victims of her father. Andie Bell, the girl who had in a way saved Pip. Pip often thought back to the girl with fondness. The girl who had died at the hands of her sister. A freak accident, the wrong place at the wrong time. Her eyes watched as you tugged open your dorm door with your key, your eyebrows struggling. Did Amelia look like you? The same strong nose and sharp cheekbones? the same pink frosted lips?

Did you feel the way that Becca Bell felt about her older sister? Did your older sister care about you? Was she kind? was she the sister like Andie who gave you love by hiding secrets?

"Did you love your sister?"

Pip hadn't meant to voice her own thoughts, but at that moment she felt that familiar pit in her gut, the one that usually made her stomach flip. She was no longer Pippa Fitz Amobi of little Kilton, she was that girl again sitting in front of Becca Bell asking about the calamity, the girl eying Nat de Silva as she refused to give answers. The girl weeping into Stanley Forbes eyes as she clung to him.

Her voice was brittle, keeping a soft edge to it.

The way your body froze on the lock, it was a calm type, which led Pip to believe you were more hurt than guilty. Your throat bobbed, and Pip watched the movement. Her eyes scanned over your soft neck. Your eyes were heavy, and you only whispered.

"I do.... it's not past tense" You held a sharp edge to your voice, eyeing Pippa's reflection in the mirror. "She's still out there I don't care what those prats say, my sister is still alive and well. because if she's not then-'' you halted, almost like a button was pushed and you came back to your senses. Your grip on the handle loosened, your eyes became less of a dark void, and you wiped quickly at a tear that had stuck to your eyelashes.

"No body was ever found. and the sniffer dog lost her trail up Abbots Road. The police say she could have gotten into a car, but I know my sister...she's clever, got her wits about her, like you-" your eyes flitted across Pip's.

You must have seen the way Pip's eyebrows creased at the words, "The minute I saw you sitting in the common room I thought to myself, Amelia would be like that. Too clever, too serious to care about the mindless chatters. Busy in her own world, she often was. but she made just enough time for me to feel special. so, when you ask if I love my sister the answer Miss Fitz Amobi is a resounding yes".

Pippa was good at reading people, she had a way of peering at a person's eyes, and she had done with any people and now as she eyed you, she felt it deep in her bones. You were 100% truthful.

"Thank you for the tour, Pippa, Mr. Sainsbury said you were observant, but I didn't quite believe him, till now. They say the eyes are the window to the soul and I could just about hear what you were thinking. Is she telling the truth? Believe me...I can read people too." the edges of your lips curved into a soft smile, like an understanding and then you opened the dorm door, and gone you went. Vanished into thin air.

Pippa watched your form leave, her breathing hard and cold as it flew out of her mouth, her thoughts loud and pulling her mind in all directions. It was only her phone vibrating in her pocket that brought her out of her trance, and she was answering it.

"Hello?"

"Pip it's half past five! where are you? Josh is beginning to wonder if you are coming at all! and Ravi just arrived!"

It was hard to snap out of her own head, which at the moment looked more and more like the murder board she had torn up as soon as Andie's case was finished. Invisible strings were being tied in her mind; questions written in crimson letters over your words. but Pip knew she could let herself fall for it, for the clues and the mystery. The truth, the justice. she couldn't let herself fall prey, she needed to lay low, focus on her studies, and get far away from cases. but was it truly falling prey if this case landed on her lap?

At the squeaky cadence of her mother's voice Pippa blinked, coming to her senses, she nodded and immediately flew in the direction of her father's old Volvo, "Sorry mum I got cornered by Mr. Sainsbury, There was a new pupil I had to meet, I'll be home as fast as I can...No I am not singing the seat belt song I am almost twenty mother!"

Even throughout the drive back to Little Kilton Pip could feel her nerves on edge. It always happened like clockwork, the way her body would react to the Little Kilton sign. It's emblem of a small country bridge used to be familiar, it was where she was born and raised, where Cara and Ravi resided, and her family, but all it brought up were ghosts. Andie Bell walking along the road and cutting along the churchyard to get to Elliot's house, not knowing her fate. Howie Bowers and his odd house on Weevil Road, the abandoned farmhouse where Andie's bones were found in the septic tank. and worse of all The Bell House. Because even though it had been months just at the sight of the house Pip could feel her heart, almost feel the sticky duct tape around the edges of her mouth, feel the sting and the metallic hammer underneath her nails.

To say she was running from the town would be an understatement. She knew as soon as she got out of her Volvo everyone would be there. Nat, Jamie, Connor, the Singhs. so, putting on her brave face she parked the car and was met with a large hug from Josh first, who had run to greet her, his boyish charms on full display, "Pippo hippo!!". The feeling of Josh in her arms instantly calmed her racing heart, just enough for her to feel normal. and soon she made her rounds saying hello to all her guests. Nat wanted to know all about university and Jamie as always hugged her tight, like he was thanking her every time for her help.

Ravi gave her an extra hug, "Been staying up late sarge? You look like the drive was long" he commented as they both sat, watching Josh eagerly flip through some Pictionary cards, having no clue what a word was and would flip to a next one, brows creasing.

They both knew what that meant, and Pip had no trouble stating her troubles, not to him. After all, he had been the one to come to her rescue after the Jason Bell incident, helping her tie up the much-needed evidence and in turn, she had given him back Sal, it was mutual trust A shared trauma.

"I can't sleep at night. most days I get an hour or two, I tried sleeping pills, but I have the worst night terrors. I keep seeing his eyes, that pale lifeless blue" Pip spoke, eyes on the laughing crowd in front of her, voice low. Ravi nodded, his eyes concerned, "I meant other than the obvious, how did you feel driving into town? It has been what two months since you've been back? I couldn't help but notice how long you stayed in the car".

Pip had to chuckle, of course, Ravi would notice, after all for a brief moment in time he had fancied her, she playfully slapped his shoulders, "Now whose stalking".

Ravi chuckled, he reached for his trifle, "Have you heard of the whitfoshire case?". The words were said with curiosity, which made Ravi's face crinkle, his brown eyes assessing Pip.

"The case from three years ago? The one with the girl who vanished. I've not heard much about it, why?".

Pip could sense his uneasiness, but she only continued, "Just asking. and it was two years ago, and that girls name is Amelia"

"you're not thinking of taking it on, are you? what happened to that Jane Doe case you were trifling about with?"

pip allowed her eyes to drift back on Nat, watching her cuddle up with Jamie, "It's not enough...I need more."

she knew how the words made her sound. obsessed, possibly insane, but what if that was her now? what if she was no longer the tidy and well-liked Pippa Fitz Amobi?

"More?" Ravi laughed, but it was a shocked laugh like he just couldn't quite believe her words. Like he was worried, he should have been. "More? Pip are you even focusing on your studies? what about your podcast? you need some counseling; I've done some and it's given me a much better out-"

"I don't need a shrink telling me I've gone off my nutter Ravi!" the words were gritted, and Pip got up, moving to the kitchen for some air, some space. she knew Ravi was only trying to help, he had the best intentions, but still, it was a sore point. Her grip on the kettle was tight and she was only brought to life again when Cara Ward entered the kitchen, brown eyes alight, she had just arrived as was evidenced by the snood nestled in her fingers. Pip without thought rushed to her, holding tightly and burying her face into her collarbone. needing that grounding touch only Cara had.

"You look like a ghost! Have you eaten Chica?"

Pip only brought her closer, "I need to talk" and so they did.

sat in Pip's room which looked the same as she had left it but somehow felt altogether different, Cara holding the tin of Jamie Dodgers and tea, oak eyes worried as Pip spoke. "You know that Jane Doe case I've been working on for my podcast?"

Cara nodded, eyebrows knitted, trying to decipher her words. "Yeah, last I heard you were asking DI Hawkins for the public records".

Pip bit her lip, putting her tea down, "Have you ever heard of the Whitfoshire case?".

Cara's eyebrows rose, "You mean the Amelia case? Yeah, I read up on it last year when Jamie went missing, fascinating. Why?".

Pip watched as Cara dipped her Jammie dodger into the milky tea, "Well her sister is in my year at Cambridge, and Mr. Sainsbury had me give her a welcome tour. That's why I was a bit late".

Cara halted, a twinkle in her heavy brown eyes, she knew Pip like the back of her thumb, "You fancy her already, don't you? Let me guess your detective side went all nuts and now you want to take on the case to show her what a clever girl you are".

Pippa wanted to argue, but it was no use.

"It's the exact opposite actually, I am trying to convince myself I don't need this case. It would only do me harm...plus what good would I be to y/n? I'd only bring her more heartbreak".

Cara was silent momentarily, her brows furrowed in thought. "Or you would be helping lay her thoughts to rest. That must be hard living her life. I cannot imagine how I would feel if Naomi went missing."

Those words seemed to drill themselves through Pip's head the next few days, invaded her senses till all she thought of was you. How had you felt? How did you feel? Could she really help you? Did you even want her help?

These thoughts plagued her, till finally she arose from her bed, hair a soiled mess and body refusing to lay still, heart a roaring fire. It was obvious the tell-tale signs, she would never get to sleep. Not when she felt like this. Hyperactive, every bone in her body a buzz. The sleeping pills void of work, and she had quit taking the other pills from Luke Eaton. Her brain felt like it was frying in the heat of her own skin, and for a second, she thinks its leaking out of her ears, the heat boiling up in her blood.

Pippa was a mess as she sat on her bed, chest rising and falling, pale complexion glistening with sweat, her heart a rapid beat as she eyed her computer sitting on her wooden desk. Her mind was at war with herself, half of her wanting nothing more than to sink her teeth into the case, to help you, but the other was wary. What would this case do to her? Would it aid her? would it calm her racing mind and her insanity that only seemed to make a home in her veins?

Her leg began to shake, small trembles as she slowly edged her way to the computer, her Shakey hands trembling as she opened the lid, her tongue moving to lick her lips as she moved to the search bar.

Her heart was a hammering mess, feral beats, her silver eyes dark. There was no going back from this, but underneath all the confusion and utter fear in the pit of her stomach she also couldn't ignore the way her body preened. The way her fingers eagerly searched up your name.

In an instant millions of articles met her grey hues, familiar names, The Guardian, The Daily Mail, The sun, The spectator--the list is various and long. Some of the titles are eager and fast gripping, 'The Whitfoshire conspiracy: unraveling the secrets behind the disappearance'

'The silent years: Amelia's family breaks their silence'

Pip skims through them all, but it's the BBC's article she halts on, her eyes seem to halt over the website, her blue hues taking in the picture atop the article, the words, 'Hope Fades: Amelia's haunting Legacy'

It's not the words that tug at pip's heart, nor the familiar backdrop of BBC. but the picture they have chosen. It's a lovely family portrait, done in front of a grand stone estate, the estate Stella chapman had mentioned just a few days ago.

Pip gulps, she's worked on two cases previously, she's well aware of the feelings accompanying them, but this feeling, this tightness in her chest is new. Almost like she's scared, almost like she doesn't quite know what she's getting into.

All she knows is that the way Amelia is hugging you to her chest while you squirm away, cheeks flushed and eyes smiling, beaming, makes it even harder for her to swallow because she had been right. You did look like your older sister. In every way, the same familiar slope of the eyes, the pale cheeks, the strong English cheekbones. But it's the way you look so genuinely happy, matching bracelets on your wrists, she knows this case will affect her the most than any other, why? Because maybe, just maybe Pip was starting to care about you more than she should.

She let her eyes fall to the rest of your family. Beside you was your mother, her smile looked painted, forced, much like Mrs. Bell. Pip knew the type, you looked like her too, same eye shape but it was your father's smile you inherited, a daddy's girl to be sure.

Pip's first impression of your father was rather muddled by Stella Chapmans words, he was a solicitor at Whitfoshire Solicitors, and apparently unfaithful to your mother. Wither there was any truth in that time would tell. Your father stood tall, looming over you, his shoulders broad, his eyes calm, yet Pippa couldn't quite understand why his smile was so.... charming?

A chuckle fell of her lips, she had yet to see your full smile, the one you only get to see if you know that person Intrinsically, but she had seen enough by the curve of your pink lips to know you had also inherited your father's charm along with his smile.

Something in Pip's heart made her eyes flit back to you, taking in your smile, the real you in your older sisters' arms. the real person you hid from others, from the media, from everyone. She could do it, finish the case, not just for her, for the sake of just needing a case, but for you. To help you, your family.

Or was it somehow the opposite? Was her mind throwing you in as a reason? Using you as some kind of shield to give herself permission? To prove to herself that Pippa Fitz Amobi still had that inner drive. To prove that she still was a good person.

The thought was alarming, and Pip quickly shut down her computer, the room no longer lit by the familiar backdrop. Her mind was a whirlwind, her emotions muddled, was she really going to do this again?

In an instant her fingers were on her mobile, dialing the only number she knew by heart. Every second the dial tone rang was a moment of eternity, but soon the familiar voice of Cara ward greeted her ears. It was a calming voice, one that often reminded her of days in the countryside as children.

“What on god's green earth are you doing at half past midnight? I am absolutely knackered- “

Pip didn’t waste time, she needed to know what Cara thought.

“I did it…I looked up the case…and I really want it Cara…” pip’s fingers curled against the mobile, “god Cara, I want it so badly…but I’m not certain it’s for the right reasons”.

Cara’s sigh was transmitted over the phone, but a small smile could be heard in her voice. “What are those reasons?”.

Pip chuckled sardonically, ruffling her bed head, chestnut curls unkempt as she ran a hand through them.

“I-I want to help her…. of course, I do…I think I’m growing rather fond of her Cara….and I’ve only just met her…it sounds daft, and I know. But…I want to know her…really know her…and maybe…it’s been a while since I’ve done a case…since I was truly committed. I know for certain that this is a chance to prove to myself…something I’ve been searching for”.

The line was quiet, and then Cara spoke. “Looks to me like you’ve got a case to solve. Be careful with her pip…and most importantly be careful with yourself.”

And then the line went dead.

[drachonia]

𝐛 𝐚 𝐜 𝐤 𝐭 𝐨 𝐛 𝐥 𝐚 𝐜 𝐤 .

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: randomly thought up a little bit of an alternate ending awhile back, actually got to writing it finally today. not sure if i'll continue and turn it into a full series or not.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: themes of reincarnation and modern setting included. descriptions of gore, major character death, angst and general dark themes. OC name used instead of general MC. spoilers for William’s main route.

Every step that echoed in William’s ears as he made his way to what may as well have been the gallows. He stepped into the dark halls in the Tower of London, faced with dozens of sets of eyes that bore him a falsified sense of ill will.

He knew the hatred was only as deeply rooted as a dull blade was leveled toward him, aiming directly for the space between his ribs. Strangely, the monarch felt a sense of unease as the sharp metal dug into his skin. Though, the sense of unease faded with each breath, an odd hope blooming along with the red that dripped to the floor.

That day in Crown’s headquarters, the heavy wooden door did not open a second time until the breaking of the next dawn, when all was too late.

The scuffing of sturdy shoes echoed on the pavement near Trafalgar Square. Ink-black curls bounced among the crowd as a young woman weaved her way through, huffing in annoyance, hand gripping an envelope, “Goodness knows why the professor wanted me to deliver her letters, I suppose anything to help her this semester…” Elisabeth murmured, brows scrunched as crimson eyes narrowed beneath long lashes. A strong gust pushed through the calm autumn air, causing the lightweight paper to lift like a feather, only to twirl about and land at a dark alleyway’s entrance. The student’s steps faltered for a moment, her brows creasing slightly as she trotted over, picking up the envelope as she cast a bewildered glance down the unfamiliar location that she felt a sort of camaraderie to.

Only when she left to deliver the slightly dirtied envelope did a pair of fine leather shoes step from the alleyway, almost like a ghost.

“Alright, last stop.” Elisabeth breathed a sigh, “Then I can meet up with Allie and Jack and we can all have some of the pie dad sent.” She breathed as she scuffed her mary-janes at the brick road. This letter, she remembered, was specifically mentioned by her professor as one of utmost importance and caution. The young lady thought back on her mentor’s words:

“He’s a distasteful ol’ man, so keep your wits about you when you drop the letter by. Give it to ‘im in person, but leave immediately.”

She sighed out, fingers tightening their grip on the letter slightly as she trotted up to the door, about to knock before noticing that the door was the slightest bit ajar. And against her better judgement, like a girl lured by the promise of adventure, Elisabeth gently pressed it open. The scent of copper hit her nose like a rousing slap to the cheek.

A dizziness filled her head as she looked at yet another strange, yet familiar scene, a dead man’s body — one she could only assume was the intended recipient of the letter she possessed.

“Well, this is a bit troublesome…” a man who couldn’t have been much older than herself frowned, arms crossing as he pushed

“A friend of yours?” A soft but jovial voice reached her ears, she noticed she had been frozen to the spot with a strange sense of deja-vu. Head aching incessantly as it pressed to the front of her skull, claws digging in.

A man with light brown hair stepped in front of the body, blocking her view as he stared down at her, “Look, we’re just here rehearsin’ for a little play at that little theatre not far off from here, nothin’ to see here.” Elisabeth almost found the false smile he put on…comforting and friendly.

“You’re lying.” The words poured out of her mouth instantly, like she’d been bound to a script herself. She had wanted to go home, to go eat a warm dinner with her brother and sister but—

A disappointed sigh reached her ears as she sensed someone behind her, looking over her shoulder to see a young man dressed head to toe with clothes almost as black as his hair. Another joined him, noticeably shorter in stature, but twice as intimidating. He grumbled under his breath, lighting a cigarette with a few curses as he glared past her.

In contrast to the rest of the curious group that surrounded the corpse, one more man stepped in front of her, the brunette from before giving him plenty room. Elisabeth glanced up once more, taking note of the silvery-white hair and carmine eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes seemed to narrow almost affectionately at her, as if out of instinct.

“It seems that we’ll be bringing her with us.” His eyes never once parted from hers, red-painted fingers brushed her own as he took her hand, Elisabeth’s vision starting to blur and darken the deeper she looked. Those eyes seemed to whisper only one thing, wide with an ever-present, intense heat.

Found you, my sweet robin.

lace headers by saradika.

[vykodlak]

Any recommendations for someone who wants to get into goth music (and likes heavier metal and rock)?

You could start off with gothic rock. It was my intro to the scene and, in my experience of playing goth music to non goths, it's the most accessible.

A few of my favorites are The Sisters of Mercy (+ First and Last and Always and Vision Thing), Fields of The Nephilim (after their disbandment their frontman formed a gothic metal band called The Nefilim), Rosetta Stone, Pretentious Moi?, Behind The Scenes (at least their first album), Temple of Angels, Solemn Novena. But if you want more of the most notable bands there's also The Cure (this & the all time classic Disintegration r my favs of theirs), Killing Joke, The Damned, Bauhaus (who are a bit less accessible than the rest).

If you want to go more obscure, I have a whole playlist that's primarily lesser known bands, nothing but goth rock (with the last song, Ladykiller, being gothic metal so just ignore that one lol - although, while gothic metal isn't considered part of the scene due to being an offshoot of doom metal, I and a lot of other goths I know still listen to it, so if you haven't delved into that but want to go on a sidequest after this I have a list for it too.)

Some other bands (darkwave, ethereal wave, post punk, etc): Corpus Delicti (loud guitars), London After Midnight, Rope Sect, Die Laughing, Inkubus Sukkubus, Cocteau Twins, The Eden House, Wisborg, Horror Vacui, The Merry Thoughts, Nosferatu, Autumn, Lycia, The Mission, Pink Turns Blue. Some bands that have stronger metal elements or are metal with heavy goth rock elements: Cemetery Echo, Tiamat (only some albums), Theatre of Tragedy's Aegis, Lepra (last one's one of my fav recent discoveries, black metal with deathrocky vocals).

By no means comprehensive but hopefully something here works as a gateway for you!