#You know how I am about lovers separated by duty

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

[mononijikayu]

kinktober 2024 — kayu's version.

Satoru's grin softens as he looks at you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes are filled with something tender and deep, a look that makes your heart swell with affection.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss that seems to say everything he can't put into words. His hands are gentle as they explore your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if memorizing you by touch alone.

He pulls back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. "And tonight… tonight is all about you."

K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 4 —

K A Y U ' S V E R S I O N

hello, this is kayu!!!

i write to you all as i prepare for my first ever participation with kinktober!!! its quite exciting and thrilling and i am just so happy to be able to finally be a part of a new world.

a lot of what im writing is going to be only for 18 and above and as such not safe for work. i hope my dear readers understand that this means that if you are not 18 and above — do not yet read. i will have safe for work content in between these periods. please read those!!!

in any case, i am most excited to share with you the things ive been working on for all of you. im very happy with how these stories are so far and im sure by the time they are finished — they'll be something ill be most proud of.

kinktober may seem like a quite an odd concept to some but its exciting to express a horizon of expression in a different way. and im excited to express stories that will be a different shade of me once again. i hope you enjoy them!!! i love you all!!! see you in october!!!

xoxoxoxo kayu

W H A T ' S C O O K I N G ! ?

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

●OCTOBER 4TH 2024

♡ SINGER SUKUNA X SINGER READER

( e l a b o r a t e r o l e p l a y )

♯┆ why are you obsessed with me .ᐟ

— ryomen sukuna.

— no one knew how the feud of the bands started but people were here for it regardless. sukuna liked to push your buttons, you liked to push his. and really, it didn't matter. because he was here. and you were fun.

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●OCTOBER 11TH 2024

♡ PRIEST SUGURU X WIDOW READER

( f o r b i d d e n d a l l i a n c e )

♯┆ devotion .ᐟ

— geto suguru

— twenty years passed and you moved towns with your husband, to try and forget geto suguru, your lover turned priest. now you're a widow and after all that time, your heartbeats at the sight of father geto suguru, the town's priest.

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● OCTOBER 18TH 2024

♡ HUSBAND NANAMI X READER

( m a k e u p — c a r f u c k )

♯┆right people, wrong place .ᐟ

— nanami kento.

— you and your husband nanami kento have been estranged for a while. it was hard, hard to fathom that you and him would be separating, that he would choose duty over you. even when you drink, its his name you call to pick you up tonight.

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●OCTOBER 25TH 2024

♡ GOJO SATORU X WIFE READER

( f i r s t t i m e )

♯┆honeymoon .ᐟ

— gojo satoru

— arranged marriages are hard, even when you're the one who made it happen. after years of marriage (and subsequently falling in love), the two of you finally decide to go and embark on a honeymoon.

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●OCTOBER 31ST 2024

♡ FUSHIGURO TOJI X WIFE READER

( b r e e d i n g k i n k )

♯┆pillowtalk .ᐟ

— fushiguro toji

— if fushiguro toji was being honest, he'd always wanted a big family. after living a rather painful life in a loveless family, he wants to build a big, warm home. looking at it now, megumi's almost a year old. a new sibling in close age would be good, doesn't it?

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C O M I N G S O O N ! ?

[dragonismo]

— of lies and empty promises.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Strong! Reader.

trope: something between star-crossed lovers and friends x enemies x lovers.

synopsis: while you enjoy a pleasant afternoon together, the differences between your families begin to make their way into your friendship, giving rise to moments of discontent between both of you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Both Aemond and reader are young. I believe there is no more warnings. Only Aemond is a tad bit possessive, jealous, and manipulative, but is purely innocent.

an: I've had this story saved in drafts since season 1 ended, but I've been neglecting it. Now, after seeing how hot handsome Aemond looks in the season 2 trailer, my fixation is back and so is my desire to publish this. This is something like a small introduction to what I have planned, so please, if you are interested, stay tuned for the next chapters!

You and Aemond were resting under the shade of the weirwood, with the sunlight filtering through its branches and red leaves. It was the most tranquil place in the Red Keep, ideal for doing nothing but enjoying a well-deserved rest after a day full of study and sword training, and as it was a rather warm summer afternoon, the mood was truly pleasant.

"I wish every day were this peaceful," you commented as you lay on the grass. "I would spend my entire life here if I knew no one would dare bother me. Can you imagine? Just lying in the sun, with no one behind rushing us to our lessons. And so, perhaps we could spend more time together."

"As far as I am aware, no one keeps you from my company," Aemond replied as he lay down next to you, palms flat on his stomach, legs crossed.

His comment made you frown: was he playing the fool, or was he really oblivious to certain glances? While shading your eyes from the sun with one hand, you tilted your face towards him before responding. "Oh, but they do, they sure do. I bet you know it is so."

"Oh, and by whom?" he inquired with a mischievous grin, one that vanished as soon as he heard the answer to his own question.

"The Queen."

Oh now that made him roll his eyes.

It was an immediate reaction, as Aemond was more than used to hearing you refer to his mother as if she were an impediment to your friendship, being that she never raised any objection despite her own opinions regarding Rhaenyra's children.

And how could she not have them? It was more than clear to him not only the truth hidden behind his mother's suspicions, but also how they were much more than mere prejudices towards the Princess.

"As I have told you countless times before," he said, not bothering to hide the subtle hint of frustration he felt at bringing up the issue again. "My mother holds no grudge against you."

"Then maybe her face hasn't caught on," you countered. "Or have you not seen how she scowls upon seeing me?"

"Believe me, you are not the source of her complaints. Mother spends more time grumbling about your brothers than about you, and rightfully so. They are fiends. You are not to deny it."

But to you it didn't seem such a far-fetched idea. You were about to argue once more, but then suddenly refrained from voicing your own opinion on the matter. You knew Aemond's position; how he preferred to turn a deaf ear and therefore often dismissed the matter. After all, what could the Queen do? She was not going to succeed in separating you both when the King was more than delighted with your bond.

Moreover; was it really worth arguing? It would do nothing but sour things between you two, something you feared greatly, for you held Aemond in high regard.

"Do as you wish," you replied. You did not want to interrupt the peaceful mood with reminders of the many quarrels that prevailed in your family, and so as usual, you decided to remain silent and put the whole matter aside. Still, your discontent showed on your face. "I was only expressing my desire to spend each day as I do now. I wish my only duty was to lie here and take a nap."

Aemond chuckled. "I fail to see where I fit in."

"I m afraid you are too irritating to be a part of it."

"Well, that is rather unkind of you. And selfish, I would say, as I want to be included anyhow," Aemond retorted stubbornly.

As he sat now with his hands on his knees, he looked at you with a determination unbecoming of someone his age, for not even men sounded as certain when they chose their greatest pursuits. But in Aemond's eyes, at nothing but ten years old, there wasn't a hint of doubt when he said, "Every time I imagine where I wish to be, you are by my side. Even in my dreams I relish in your company. I believe it is only fair that I am part of your ambitions and yearnings too, would you not think so? I would like it that way."

"But I never asked for such a thing," you replied. "Why am I to even consider it? I want my dreams to be my own, and not shared with anyone else. Dreams are one's own thing after all. So I wonder, why share them with me?"

"Because I love you, of course," Aemond answered you without further regard. "And if you love me as much, you must include me in yours, for not to do so means our friendship is not as important to you as it is to me," he added that last bit with a hint of playfulness.

You then turned to look at him. "Not as important?"

How confusing. It should bother you to hear him claim such a thing, for after all, were you not the one who had always defended him from the ill-treatment of your brothers? Were you not the one who had shown him unconditional affection despite the growing differences between your family? Were you not the one who, even in these moments, and as hard as it was not to, had never been upset with him? For even when you were accused of loving him less or branded as egotistical, you worried that those concerns were far more than harmless banter.

"Of course I love you as much. I would say more, even."

Aemond's smile widened, as he had expected such an answer. "And yet, it is I who always has you in mind. Who loves whom the most, then?"

"Me," you wanted to say. But was love not too big a concept for such young people?

You were taken aback. Not because the answer would be disheartening, and certainly not because you doubted the extent of your affection for him, quite the opposite: for one as young as yourself, the dephts of your feelings frightened him.

Then, instead of answering his question, you sat up, wiped the dust from your hands on your robes, and with sudden curiosity asked, "And what is that dream of yours, pray tell? I reckon it is no more mind-boggling than mine, where I gorge myself in lemon tarts as I ride the Black Dread."

Aemond snickered at your comment, but his words sounded a bit too serious to be a jest when he uttered them. "Well of course it is simpler. It is just about…"

"Your highness," a voice interrupted him.

A handmaiden approached from the opening, looking somewhere between hurried and delighted, something that intrigued you as much as it annoyed Aemond, who hoped this interruption would be brief so he could resume his comment. After a bow, however, he found her words rather daunting.

"Your mother sends for you, your highness. She wishes to introduce you to a new brother," the woman announced, which caught your attention so much it made you forget all about your previous conversation with him.

"My mother, you said?" you beamed before you pushed yourself up from the ground in no time, dusted off your clothes and bade Aemond farewell with such haste he could barely make out an "excuse me" as you and the handmaiden walked away.

He watched you as you ran ahead of her, clearly excited to meet what awaited you in your mother's chambers. As for him, he remained seated under the tree for a few seconds longer, a hint of jealousy souring his smile as his brow furrowed.

What a pleasant afternoon you were having so far. And yet again, your siblings always seemed to interrupt you both, even if they were not doing so directly. Will he ever be free of the burden of kinship?

How you could choose your brothers was beyond him. Was he not the one who often amused you? He had always considered himself closer to you than Jacaerys and Lucerys, but what was it about those bastards that always pulled you away from him nonetheless? And now there was a third!

Were his concerns correct then? Did he love you more than you loved him? But no, the very idea seemed so absurd it brought a scornful laugh from him.

You would never dare choose them over him!

"Damn them," he exclaimed before standing up as well. There was no use in staying here now that he was alone.

[rushtoprove]

a moment of weakness

pairing: aemond targaryen x wife!reader rating: general audiences word count: 2k+ summary: a disastrous turn of events in one of the crown's tournament's leaves the court fearful that prince aemond has lost his other eye. the prince is adamant no one shall gaze beneath his eye-patch, not even his darling wife. warnings: description of injury.

As you slowly gain consciousness, you couldn’t help the smile that danced upon your lips, taking satisfaction in the feeling of your whole-body aching in the most delightful way. You wanted to savour the moment for a few minutes, afraid that when you opened your eyes reality would ruin it, but when you felt a shift on the bed that you were sharing you couldn’t help letting your vision clear. And what a sight it was.  

Aemond, your husband of now eight months, breathed peacefully as he slept facing you. His silver hair seemed to cover the entire pillowcase he rested upon, and you couldn’t help but shiver in delight over the way he had turned to face you in his sleep. You were close, the only thing separating yourselves was his hand that was lying carelessly atop his pillow, and you couldn’t help but reach out and gently touch his fingers. The love you had developed for the second-born Targaryen prince could often be overwhelming, leaving you breathless under his gaze but you revelled in it. Being forced into this marriage by your scheming families was frightening in the lead up, but a month into your marriage he had quietly sat by you in the library to ask of the book you were reading, and in return offered suggestions on what to read next. You listened as he explained his studies, and soon he would visit you every afternoon to go through his ancestor’s history together. You had become besotted.  

However, you did not know if Aemond felt this way for you. He was kind enough, and quietly listened to whatever you talked about, but he never seems to open up about anything to you, nor did he show any physical affection towards you outside of your shared quarters. He would walk by your side, but at a distance, and he would follow you at banquets, but only for duty. He performed his acts as a husband dutifully, but you couldn’t help but ache for a more personal connection to him. Behind closed doors, however, he was an extraordinary lover, hence the delicious ache that you lay basking in. He was kind to you and treated you as if he had never held anything so perfect. The difference could sometimes make your head spin. 

 Caressing his fingers was not enough, so you moved to pepper gentle kisses from the tips of his fingers before allowing your lips to trail across the back of his hand. Aemond was quick to react even in his sleeping state and wrapped his arm around, dragging your body into his. Quickly wrapping yourself around him and lying your head a top his chest, you allowed yourself to enjoy the peacefulness of lying with your husband. 

“I believe this to be the first time you have woken before me.” His voice was deep, still trying to truly leave his sleep, and you let your eyes flutter as he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head. Letting your fingers dance upon his torso, you slowly raised your head to stare at him. He was already looking at you with an eyebrow slightly raised and smile playing upon his lips. 

“I’m nervous for today.” It came out a whisper, but Aemond simply laughed and let his hands fall to squeeze your hips. You went to protest against him, but he quickly captured your lips with his and you were silenced. 

“You have no need to worry. You know I am well-trained with a sword.” You went to reach up and cup his face, but you forgot yourself. The moment your hand hovered above the eye-patch he had taken to wearing even in your bed, you felt his whole-body flinch beneath yours. You knew from how tense his body became that it would be the end of your loving morning. 

“Aemond...” But he was already moving, and you let yourself roll to the side and watch in sorrow as he sat on the edge of the bed, quickly pulling on the pants he had discarded so quickly the night before. The loss of his eyes was a harrowing experience for him as a child, and you had been warned that not one person had been allowed to gaze upon what is left beneath his eye patch since then. One night you had suggested he remove it to sleep, convinced it would be extremely uncomfortable. He had the left the bed and not returned to it for two days. Not letting the moment go so easy, and not ready for another bout of sleeping alone, you quickly rushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your bare body to his back. 

“Please be careful today. You know how dangerous these stupid tournaments can get. I will require you back in my bed tonight in pristine condition.” Today a tournament was being held to celebrate Prince Aegon’s twenty-second name day, and Alicent had pushed for her second son to enter. The words duty and show of strength were included in the order.  

“Well, I shall have to be extra careful as my wife will not be there to bestow her favour upon me.” He was back to you, and his teasing voice instantly softened you. Burying your face into his neck you gave him a quick kiss. 

“You know I wish to be there, but Helaena says she needs me in her quarters in case the babe decides to come today.” 

“It is not due for another two moons.” But you knew he understood. Bundling up the sheets to wrap around your figure, you quickly moved to your discarded dress from the festivities of last night and began tugging out the strip of green silk that lined the top of the corset. It was long enough to do the job, but small enough for Aemond to hide beneath his armour. Once it was in your hand you moved back to your husband and climbed onto his lap with a smile. 

“Here. You will always have my favour.” You tucked it into the pocket of his pants, before squealing with delight as he threw you onto the bed and climbed his way up your body. 

“Hmm.” He hummed before moving his lips to attack your collarbone. 

“My warrior.” You teased and laughed as you felt him softly bite down. You moved your fingers to entwine into his hair and yet again found yourself relishing being in his company. 

“My prince...” You almost screamed as the door swung open and a flurry of servants entered the room. You were grateful as Aemond moved to hide you beneath the blankets of his bed. 

“What is the meaning of this?” He growled and you noticed a few stopped uneasily at his rage. He had made it clear that he was never to be interrupted this way long ago, but when Alicent rounded the corner and began pulling back the blinds, the young couple knew they had no choice. 

“You are late. I explicitly told you to be ready at breakfast. Your match is in one hour. Hello dear Y/N.” You dumbly waved from beneath the sheets before cowering even further down, though no one seemed to be paying attention to you. Aemond quickly reached beneath the sheets and squeezed your knee. Pulling on a shirt that was being handed towards him, Aemond stood tall as he moved to the door.  

“I will ready myself in the other room. Please allow my wife privacy.” The servants flurried out in a rush and Aemond stood at the door waiting for the room to be empty then turned back to look upon you once more.  

“Please be careful Aemond.” Your voice was soft, trying to hide the desperation you felt. But you seemed to find it impossible to hide anything from your husband, and he quickly closed the door and kneeled beside the bed. You rolled to face him, as he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“I will come back to you in one piece my wife. Today is nothing more than child’s play. I shall find you in Helaena’s rooms straight after.” 

+++ 

“Princess Y/N, Prince Aemond has been in an accident.” The maid had no time to explain the details before you were running toward his room. You had spent hours cuddled up beside Helaena, reading and soothing her pregnancy aches, but the moment a maid had burst into the room, flustered and out of breath, you knew something had gone wrong. 

“What happened?” You did not stop running as you questioned her, and instead lifted your skirts and accelerated your pace.  

“The prince was fighting some Baratheon cousin and the prince won the sword fight. He was crowned victor, but the warrior became enraged at losing and tried to take out his other eye while Prince Aemond kneeled to the King.”  

“The bastard!” You spat the words out and kept running, ignoring the pain in your chest from shortness of breath. The run felt like years but when you spun around the corner to his rooms, you cried out for all those who gathered in the hall to make way for you. It seemed every lord in the kingdom was standing outside Aemond’s door, awaiting news. 

“Make way for the princess!” You heard Sir Criston order and the sea of people quickly parted, letting you rush forward. He quickly opened the door to allow you to enter before closing it to stop any of the courtiers catching a glimpse of your husband in his weakened state. 

“You must let him see Aemond!” Alicent was crying as she reached towards her son but jumped in fright as Aemond quickly stood and backed away in rage. His eye remained in perfect condition, but you could have screamed at the sight of blood running through the fingers he held where his eyepatch was usually strapped upon. 

“Aemond.” You cried, stumbling towards him. He seemed to move towards you, before tensing up and shaking his head. You did not miss the distress on his face. 

“Leave! Get her out of here! All of you get out of here!” His voice was loud and you and many others in the room flinched at the noise. 

“Prince Aemond I must be allowed to access your eye!” The maester begged but Aemond silenced him with an animalistic snarl. 

“If you cunts do not leave me right now, I swear to the gods that everyone shall know the pain of losing an eye!” His eye was widened, and his pupil dilated like a wild beast. His gaze flickered between every person in the room, desperate to make sure no one moved towards him. All you could focus on was the constant stream of blood oozing from between his fingers. 

“Out.” You choked out the word and everyone turned their startled gaze to you, but your eyes did not leave your husband once. 

“Princess I must...” 

“OUT!” You screamed the order, cutting off the maester and glared at everyone. They reluctantly moved away and Alicent quickly squeezed your hand before making sure she was the last person to depart, leaving you alone with Aemond. 

“You leave too.” He growled but you simply moved to near him. Aemond backed off, startled by your movements and your heart broke. You couldn’t imagine how traumatic this moment must be, and the memories it has brought back upon him.  

“Lay in bed Aemond.” 

“Get out!” 

“You promised you would return to our bed and gods help me Aemond if you do not lay down, I shall find a way to make you.” Neither of you could look away from each other, your chests heaving in sync as he stood in defiance. 

“Y/N...” 

“Please Aemond. Please.” You begged for his co-operation, hoping that he would see the tears beginning to fall and would help put you out of your distress. It was a shock when it seemed to work, and you quickly moved to help your husband cautiously lower himself to lay upon his bed.  

“I do not want you to look.” He whispered it as his eye closed in sorrow and you watched as a single tear escaped and mixed with the blood pooling from his empty eye socket. 

“I am your wife Aemond. I shall look, and I shall care for you. It is my duty.” 

“You are too kind to be forced into this marriage. It should not be your duty to look upon such horror. I do not wish it. I do not wish for you to see the ugliness of my scars.” He would not open his eye as he confessed it, but you clasped your hand tightly around his and pressed a long kiss to it. 

“My love. My Aemond. How have you not noticed? This marriage has been long past duty for me. I have loved you for a long time now husband.” His breath quivered at your confession, and when he opened his eye, he cried out at the sight of your hands reaching for his eyepatch. 

“My love... I hope you know it is the same for me. You have enraptured me, enchanted me, enslaved me. I am yours. Only yours.” His hands shook as he took the turn to clasp your hands and press a kiss to it. There was nothing to say between you, it was a confession that you had both been waiting for. Instead, you let your hands move back to the job at hand. You were slow and delicate as you unclasped the eyepatch and were tender in your gaze once it was finally removed. You hid your shock at the sapphire that was burrowed snugly between the torn skin around his eye and let yourself lean close to inspect the damage the foolish knight had inflicted. 

“The cut is not deep. It has just opened a small section of your scarring around your top eyelid, but the main gash is above where your patch sits. It is something I shall be able to fix.” You whispered as you allowed your fingers to trace the faded scars that littered his eye. He shivered under your touch and reached out to hold onto you as you looked upon his shame. 

“The fool went for an eye already missing.” He breathed out a laugh and you filled with rage at the thought of the idiot contender. 

“I shall kill him with my bare hands.” You snapped but Aemond let out his first real laugh. 

“Do you truly believe I would have allowed that cunt to live after what he did to me dear wife?”  

[countrymusiclover]

2 - How A Marriage Goes

Part 3

A Wolf Among Dragons

Tag list ( just ask to be added ) @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea @immyowndefender @iamavailablesstuff

Do y’all want me to separate when Lehna is with Daemon and when she’s with Aemond into separate chapters or just keep writing chapters how I currently am?? Let me know in the comments below 😏

It took a little longer than I cared for to put my daughter down for her nap because I also had to put her twin brother down for the night at the same time. My son Caraxes mumbled to me that his father was playing with the Gold Cloaks meaning he was planning an attack tonight that he didn’t wish for him to see at such a young age.   

Aemond was sitting in the chair by the fire while I exited my children’s room that was down the hall from my chambers.  Draping a simple cloak over my shoulders I crossed the room pouring myself a cup of wine before offering him one. “Do you want one?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes.” He responded by tapping one of his boots on the stone floor. 

Pouring him his own glass in a goblet I walked over to him, handing the goblet to him where he slowly raised it up to his lips. “So what do you wish to talk about further with me?” 

“Tell me about you and living in the North.” He held his goblet cup on one of the chair armrests. 

I swallowed thickly the liquid I had just drank from my cup, taken back by his next words. “Are you being serious?  You want to know about my family, why?” 

“I have learned everything I could about my family history and now I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t do the same of the other noble houses of Westeros.  Wouldn’t you say the same if you were in my position?” 

Taking a long sip from my cup I dragged the other chair closer to the burning fireplace.  “If I was in your position I’d take the time to learn about your future wife and anything I could about her before you wed her.  So I understand why you want to know as much as you can.” 

“So what is interesting about the North?” Aemond asked me, tapping his fingers on the rim of the cup. 

Brushing hair out of my face I hadn’t thought about my family in quite some time.  It wasn’t that I didn’t miss them, I had just gotten far too busy since I became a member of House Targaryen.  “Winter is Coming" are our family words.   For many years my family has guarded the Wall and prepared for the day that the harsh winter truly does come.” 

“What age were you when you married my Uncle Daemon?” 

I simply answered his question. “The age of ten and seven.  My younger brother Cregon was ten and three the day our father died and he was given the land and title of Lord of Winterfell.” 

“That’s too young to rule.” Aemond pointed out even though his father was still weakly alive meaning him and his other siblings wouldn’t be Kings or Queens until the day he passed. 

Shaking my head I corrected him. “He wasn’t truly the Lord until he turned sixteen,  at least that’s what the letter I later received from my former home a few months later told me he was also wed and had  a baby.” 

“And it was your duty to do the same thing.  You beat him by giving my uncle two instead of just one.” Aemond chuckled, taking another sip from his glass. 

“I must confess I had no desire to beat my brother by how many children I can birth compared to his lady wife.“ The chamber door creaked open before I heard something slip underneath it.  Getting up from my chair I matched up a folded piece of paper with a quick scribbled message showing me a different secret passageway than the one I had used last time. “Oh uh, Aemond I apologize.  But I should go and check on the children.  It shall be very late before Daemon gets done with the Gold Cloaks and little Caraxes can’t keep when his father is out and about at this late hour.” 

Aemond nodded downing what was left in his cup before getting up and coming over to me and handing me the cup before leaving the room and closing the door behind himself. “If you ever want someone other than those gossiping wives to talk to you can come find me.  I rather enjoy your company, Lehna.” I smiled listening to the sound of his boots retreating away before I slipped out the chamber door dressed in a dark black cloak over my simple nightgown and my horse riding boots. 

Aemond had secretly hidden behind one of the large pillars watching the Stark girl head in the opposite direction of where she said she was going.  Causing him to wonder what in the seven was his Uncle Daemon doing taking her out like this. 

Sneaking down the last set of steps I squinted my eyes seeing someone dressed in the same black cloak as I standing at the edge of the passageway exit.  The torch light showing it was Daemon when he lifted his head up enough for me to meet his gaze. “I was beginning to think you had found something better to do on our anniversary.” 

“I’m surprised you had remembered what with all the time you spent with the Gold Cloaks.” I teased my husband with a smirk, despite what everyone thought about me and Daemon only spending time together at royal events.  We did spend time together, just not really discussing much of anything.  Not like what I had just done with Aemond. 

Daemon stepped closer until our chests were pressing up against the other. “I’m not that awful of a husband as most think.  Now come on, little wolf.” Looping my arm through his we made our way down from the Keep until we were in the busy and lively streets of the city I had called my home since I had turned 17.   I tugged his forearm when we began to walk past a performance going on in the streets.  

The king had named his daughter his heir before his son was born and that is all that everyone could talk about for the many years of peace we have been having.  King Viserys didn’t want any war, he simply was the King of peace.  “Rhaenyra...the Realm's Delight,  a girl so young and so slight... loved by all of her people,  but would she make a powerful queen, or would she be feeble?” The lead actor announced to the crowd while a man who was dressed up to look like Rhaenyra took  a seat down on their smaller made Iron Throne on the stage. 

Multiple people shouted back to the performer.  “Feeble!”

“Though Aegon, the babe Prince,  might long for a claim, he has two things Rhaenyra cannot:  a conqueror's name... and a cock.” The player bent down on a knee beside the other man who was supposed to be playing Aemond’s older brother Aegon. 

I sighed feeling bad for Rhaenyra who was trying to change the society we lived in.  Yet it wasn’t going to be as easy even if your father sat the current throne. “I feel like I need a drink before I can watch anymore of this pathetic performance.” 

“You don’t find it entertaining, hmm?” Daemon chuckled watching me pay for a drink from the local tavern we were standing outside.  

The owner handed me and Daemon each a glass and I finished half the goblet before my husband who just stared at me waiting for my response. “If I was Rhaenyra getting to watch this I’d be utterly offended.  But we didn’t come down here to squabble about that.  For one night a year we go back to before we had our two children do we not?” 

“Enough though we love them both dearly.  We are just two people having fun tonight.” Daemon finished his drink leading me into one of the brothels and found a private room for us.  He pushed me against the wall with us quickly removing our cloaks leaving us just in our small clothes and desire obvious in our separate gazes. 

“I thought I’d hate doing this with you.  But in truth no one tells you how good it feels.” I smirked at the dragon in front of me. 

“It’s a shame.  A marriage is a duty...Yes.  But that doesn't stop us from doing what we want.” Daemon whispers in a husky voice in my ear while my hands start to trace his form. I began to run his fingers up and down his muscular chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my gown. He yanked the fabric off my head, throwing it to the ground only once before he growled with his lips barely hovering over mine.  “Say it, Lehna.  Say it.” 

“From fucking who we want.” I uttered out the words he had once told me after we had kissed in front of Caraxes in the dragon pit.  He smirked loving to hear me say those words to him only in a setting like this.  I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back shrugging his tunic over his head getting lost in the other's touch.  The others outside were discarded like the remainder of our clothing. 

[galesdevoteewife]

Let’s talk about Mystra

Hello everyone, I wanted to talk about Mystra👋🔮

As much of a crazy lover as I am for my fictional wizard, the more lore research I do, the more I feel like Mystra deserves some love too. This goddess lives a cursed life. I know I know she asked Gale to kill himself, but bear with me; here are my arguments:

A bit history of Mystra

There’re 3 Mystra: Mystryl -> Mystra (Elminster’s Mystra) -> Mystra (Midnight)

In short, Mystryl is the fourth deity in the universe, composed of Shar & Selûne’s essence. She is one of the primal existences while the universe is still new and trying to settle down, a significant component of the universe itself. While Mystryl’s spirit was born naturally, Mystra and Midnight were both once mortal and raised by AO to inherit Mystryl’s power.

Is Mystra bad?

Midnight, “Mystra 3rd ” is who we met in BG3. She was a human magic user born in 1332 DR. Midnight was aiding Mystra 2nd at the time of troubles. She’s a kind-hearted and humble woman who ascended in 1358 DR. She didn’t want godhood at all; she only did it to counter Cyric, the bad guy.

From comic book Avatar (1991)

For decades, she even tried to allow only the good use of magic, later learning her duty and place as the guardian of balance and impartial arbiter of the Weave; no matter how Midnight feels or hopes things could have been. She was only 26 when she had to wave goodbye to everyone she knew, shouldering the 24/7 goddess duty. It’s true that she will inherit other Mystra’s memory, but personality-wise she is only 160 years old; even Halsin is older than her. (Not to mention she spent 94 years in dormant)

Note[1]: Later on all the Mystra mentioned I will be talking about Midnight

Note[2]: Dec17/2023 I will come back and edit this section; it's misleading according to Ed Greenwood's tweet. The current Mystra is likely a blend of all three Mystras with an unspecified proportion. I will provide details on the stories and deeds of the other Mystras.

Being Mystra sucks. Truly.

Imagine your body is just a thing lying on the street; anyone can command you to dance for them so long as they know the right spell. While you CAN reject it, you are NOT ALLOWED to.

What’s worse is that too many mortals and too many gods want the Weave, but it’s not something that she can “give”. Like no one can give away their body to someone else. She IS the Weave; I think of it as the Weave being the cells that compose her. Whoever wants to take it away will have to separate her mind and “body” by:

killing her and inherit the Weave, where all the attempters failed step 2, then only resulted in a broken/Weaveless crisis

or completely manipulating her mind, which is the option no one ever considers; they all go straight to killing her

Whenever DnD wants to change the rules, they kill Mystra.

Shar wants the Weave, Bane wants it, countless mortals want it too. According to the conversation between Gale and Lorroakan, it’s almost a common conversation trying to dethrone the goddess and take the power for themselves.

And no one is there to protect Mystra; she fights alone. Although she has a good relationship with gods like Selûne or Azuth, nobody lent a hand when she was murdered. She relies on her chosens and her own power.

On top of defending herself, aka protecting the Weave, another important duty is to maintain the Weave. Whenever a spell is cast, it damages the Weave, and she is the one to patch the holes. The more powerful the spell is, the bigger damage it will cause. That’s why her dogma includes “Use the Art deftly and efficiently, not carelessly and recklessly.” She also needs to keep an eye out for possible upcoming threats. A tough and tedious job, and no holidays for the goddess.

It might sound a bit twisted, but she is taking care of the world by taking care of herself. Anything happening to her means catastrophe for the world. (e.g., Spellplague, where magic caused mutations to the users, see wiki here)

But she asked Gale to explode himself!

Yes, and she also promised Elysium once he’s dead. There is actually a thorough afterlife setting in the Forgotten Realms DnD setting. In short, a spirit doesn’t perish when a mortal dies; it would be drawn to the Fugue Plane and wait for the god they prayed to in life to send a servant to take them to their heaven.

It’s a terrible fate for the faithless or false spirits, those who either defy their gods or never choose one. They are forever punished in this grim plane and even become part of the Wall of the Faithless.

Fugue Plane and Wall of the Faithless: those are spirits piling up into a wall

In Mystra’s case, her heaven is Elysium, judging by the name, you can already tell it’s likely a heavenly place. Significantly better than the Fugue Plane, that’s for sure.

It’s a fixed truth that all will die someday, and Gale’s afterlife options are:

Defy Mystra: When he dies, he will be forever punished as a false in the Fugue Plane. Not to mention Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead, is also Midnight Mystra’s former(?) lover, and he detests cowardice.

Defy Mystra and try to gain favor from another god: I think this will mean changing class and profession for him, as a wizard he is tied to Mystra after all.

Serve Mystra and be taken to Elysium: And who knows, since he is chosen of Mystra, she might even revive him someday. Mystra 2nd did that for her other chosen before. Note: Interesting reading about how her chosen become weaveghost after death, see wiki here.

Obtain godhood: When the god Gale dies, he will go through a completely different process.

An interesting thought here is whether Gale knows about all these. It will largely define what his true colors are. It wouldn’t make sense if he is completely ignorant of afterlife logic, though. His background is an experienced wizard (probably studied some necromancy), goddess ex, and apparently visited heavens before.

Is Mystra power-thirsty?

I wouldn’t say so. She is already OP, and AO asked her to nerf herself by sharing and storing power in her chosens. Even if she were to gain more power, she is not allowed to keep it.

She wants the Shadow Weave

She sees Shar’s secret creation, the Shadow Weave, as a threat and aims to eventually subsume it into her portfolio, even if that means sacrificing her last remaining goodness and humanity.

From the DnD book “Faith & Pantheons”

We see how Shar is using her Shadow Weave in the cursed land, and it's safe to say it's not an ideal living environment for most beings. Shar has been very keen to kill Mystra and take over her power; I don’t think the world would be a better place in her hands than in Mystra’s.

She wants the Karsite Weave

The same logic could apply to the Karsite Weave. While we can argue whether Gale has a good heart and can be trusted with godlike power, he did show some concerning traits, did he not? Maybe in the future, when he is wiser and calmer, that's how I read Mystra’s line when she tells him to be patient.

Why doesn’t she just cure him since she can?

This is 100% headcanon. I think Mystra as a goddess is able to foresee some future. In Elminster’s story series, Mystra 2nd often asked him to do things that seemed irrelevant but were actually needed in the future. In Gale’s case, could it be that’s what Midnight meant to do? To mentor and humble him? Even prepare him to go through this journey? (Hardly imagine the prime archmage Gale joining our little merry band, and Elminster did say, “Mystra was anything but idle- she chose you as her champion.” What could that means?)

Gale has a curve where he goes from being “irked by untalented apprentices” to “enjoying teaching a lot” if not using the crown. He could have been relying on magic too much, and his ego or pursuit of power had led him astray from his good nature. If you look from this perspective, offering to use the orb before the final battle could be him still having doubts about the team's ability and having more faith in magic aka his own power (mixed with his deep love for everyone that he'd rather die than see their lives wasted, of course).

She is a terrible lover, and she doesn't care about Gale at all

According to patch 5, how time feels in the outer plane is very different from the material plane. God Gale came back in 6 months, and he seems not aware that it has been months. With this logic and putting myself in Mystra's shoes, she got mad because Gale recklessly activated a magical nuclear bomb and ignored him for a couple of weeks.(~1 year in the mortal world) When they meet again, this grumpy jumpy bean is thinking of the possibility of killing her for her powers already. Excuse me???

I will say there could be more considerate ways to handle this subject other than asking him to bomb himself. This long-distance cross-race romance was very problematic, but I will reserve my opinion on how much love she holds for Gale. Probably not seeing him as an equal partner, of course, but drawing the conclusion that she doesn't care a tad about his well-being might be too hasty, in my opinion.

A screenshot of Mystra telling Gale that she wasn't the one who took his gifts away from him. That's not an expression of 0 sympathy to me. I've never seen her make this face except for this line.

*UPDATE on Dec 11/2023* Add a tweet from Ed Greenwood, the creator of the Forgotten Realms. Ref: X

*UPDATE on Jan 11/2024* • Add a screenshots during Gale's meeting with her • Add a note on DnD weaveghost setting *UPDATE on Apr 15/2024* • An great analysis of Gale & Mystra's relationship and Mystra's behavior logic

-DISCLAIMER- I am very new to the DnD world, but these are what I dug up and puzzled together. I could be very, very wrong, but please be kind; I did all this out of love for my wizard 💜💜💜

[l4long-winded]

i. a sleep deprived meeting

summary: your upstairs neighbor plays the violin often. so much so that it's distracting you from your work. you decide it's time to confront him (cavill!sherlock x afab!reader)

reflection: this is the first part of six. two have been written, and another is currently in the works. i did plan to finish everything and post it in one piece, but then it would be too long. i have dove into a rabbit hole here and i hope i am able to curse others as much as henry's sherlock has cursed me. please enjoy and of course, feedback is always encouraged and appreciated.

warnings: seamstress!reader, sherlock is rude, condescending!sherlock, cursing, somewhat slowburn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, victorian era (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,604

That damn violin’s surpassing the dimension between floors separating you from your upstairs neighbor again. The vivid sound is so clear that you’re positive your fingertips could rest against the surface of the wall and vibration would greet you not only harmoniously, but physically. Music you could touch because of how it swells in the building, how it echoes out to your flat and bounces off the empty spaces not covered by scraps of fabric. The hum shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but your fingers are not occupying themselves with the task of becoming familiar with the tunes of a skilled violinist; they’re busy with a commissioned dress that must be finished within the time slot of a day. Normally you wouldn’t rush the process, but work came fast and aplenty, leaving you with little to no choice but to overload yourself and answer it with vigor and stubbornness others would describe as not knowing how to quit. You’ve never had a quota this full to meet and you were, after all, one woman, but you’re going to work day and night if that’s what it takes. Or, in your case, another day and another night of nonstop work to add onto your seemingly endless and perpetually sleepless cycle of being.

In your haste, your index finger meets the needle of your incoming thread. It’s a stab straight to your flesh, one of many, and one managing to aggravate your already high level of frustration brewing within. Quickly and without thinking, you shove your finger into your mouth to nurse the small, repetitive wound underneath your tongue. The taste of metal mixes off with your saliva and soon fades from blood and light salt to nothing but a feeling of your pulse throbbing from the unwelcome intrusion. The drum in your fingertip only speeds up as a warning of you to be careful, of how each misstep with the needle may be miniscule, but multiplying the instances periodically would leave behind more pain to ache alongside the pressure forming in your back and neck. Your eyes burn the longer you keep them open, the longer you focus on sewing, there’s no need to add pricked fingers to your list of pain that you would wind up ignoring in favor of more work. And yet, through all of this, it’s not your cramping hands, your stiff neck, your tired eyes, or your crouching back that cultivates your irritation. No, it’s the crescendo of the violin from upstairs nestling in your ear, yelling at you to shut it up.

After personifying the instrument and imagining its voice as a cry for help, of how it’s a victim to the criminal musician’s overuse, you somehow justify yourself pushing the cloth in your lap aside to place it onto the table of your machine. You blow air to flip the hair strands that have fallen out of their way and laid on your lips, the rest pinned to your head so you wouldn’t have to worry about your hair draping over your skin during your job’s duties. You’re so focused on gripping the material of your skirts that you fail to notice the strands falling right back into your eyes on the way up the stairs you’re marching on one by one. The violin increases in volume with every step you take until you’re soon facing a door, a golden label of 221B staring back at you, the contrast being in the floor letter. This is not the first time you’ve been disturbed by this tenant, but it’s the first time you’ve come up here to this door in particular and you’re aware of this as you hesitate and merely glare forward. This self-awareness sets you back two seconds, only two seconds of precious time before you decide to see this through and confront your unnamed tormenter.

Your hand raises into a fist, prepared to knock onto the door seemingly taunting you for some course of action, but it’s then that it swings open and unveils a rather large man with squared shoulders and an annoyed expression that you know mirrors your own. His face is sculpted, boyish curls surrounding masculine and inquisitive features that become more so with a raise of his left eyebrow. Almost as if you were actually staring into your own reflection, your shoulders perk up and you rectify your posture to try and replicate the amount of space he takes in the same fashion that you would imagine a human doing in front of a bear to appear bigger than it was. But it doesn’t matter what he looks like, this complaint must be said with confidence and you won’t let this man’s size or gender intimidate you. Your lack of sleep may have made you a bit reckless, but at least you could move forward and continue without his infuriating habits robbing you of your sanity whether it’s while you work or while you try to unwind (a much rarer phenomenon, but still not as plausible with him around).

Or so, you thought.

“You’re heavy on your feet,” the man cuts the silence without allowing you the chance to speak. “I could hear you coming before you started to ascend the stairs.” Your voice catches in your throat hearing such an utterance, your eyes automatically drifting down to look at your choice of footwear. Your heels weren’t the quietest of shoes, but the clack of them against the stairs is not something that you were noticing in your simmering rage walking up and across the hall. Thinking clearly is difficult to do without sleep on one’s side in general. Embarrassment and shame flit over your chest all at once, but as you peer into this man’s disarray of a flat behind his broad frame, you can see the violin sitting atop a table. That wretched thing that you can no longer stand the sound of, the reason you came up here in the first place despite having not known one another. You didn’t plan to introduce yourself, either, and it seems like a bad idea with the tension currently sitting between you and Shoulders.

“Yes, well,” you slowly clear your throat and try to regain a semblance of decorum after being caught so off guard, “I made my trip here for a reason. You do play a string instrument, correct?”

Without preamble, he takes a single glance behind him and locates the very thing you were about to complain about. It’s not long before his brilliant blues return and level you with the same steely gaze he’s adopted from the moment he first opened the door. It prompts you to close your mouth. You don’t know why you do, but there’s this restraint you’re putting onto yourself in the presence of this domineering stranger. You want to continue on, but he takes advantage of the beat and he leans into the door frame with one capable hand. The position tells you of how you’re wasting his time, how he would rather get back to what he was doing before you interrupted him. “What on Earth told you that? Was it, perhaps, the sound of the Caprice in A Minor or the meek snooping of prying, sleep-deprived eyes unabashedly scrutinizing my flat?��

His sarcasm takes you aback. He couldn’t have known that you were coming up here with any hint of aggression to be speaking to you so poorly. The last thing you wanted to do was portray yourself as judgmental when your own flat was a mess in itself, but you’re also not in the mood to question and doubt yourself knowing the motive for this impromptu visit in the first place. The realization hits you that he also could not have known about your sleep schedule being askew, so you must’ve looked like the walking undead. While your face scrunches up in defense, you rapidly shake your head despite the migraine currently gripping it by the crown. Your neighbor certainly isn’t helping with that. Your disheveled appearance should be the least of his worries.

“Listen, I did not come up here to quarrel—”

“But that’s not true, is it?” His expression changes. It’s subtle, but you catch it from how intently you’re burrowing your eyes into his in an attempt to search for the audacity he seemed to possess without a lick of shame behind it. His expression communicates his words as a fact, as if he had you figured out, as if he had the world around you two figured out. The certainty in his pupils unwavers and you’re a skeptic before anything else, but you already believe what he’s about to say before he even says it just from how he carries himself. So sure. So omniscient.

A deep sigh slips past his lips as he brings the door closed to where only a narrow crevice of his flat is now displayed to you. You can no longer drink in the furniture and trinkets this man holds because there’s no longer a view beyond him and rich wood facing you, leaving you vulnerable to look solely at the curls framing his sturdy facial structure. It’s a dichotomy you’re not prepared for: soft decorating solid, flowers strung along stone. If you dare the eye contact further, then you’ll test how much your own can stand before they start to water from sheer perseverance. You’ve been wiping tears away casually while you sat at your sewing machine today from how exhausted they were and from how you forced them open to continue. You don’t want to shed a tear in this instance since he might think himself the reason and it’s obvious to you that you can’t give him any more of a reaction, any more of a way into how you felt.

“Ordinarily, a walk up this staircase alerts simply from the creaks crafted by age and the weight of a person’s shoes. If you were on a mission to borrow sugar loaves, it wouldn’t have easily caught my ear since I was occupied playing the Caprice.” He gestures to the stairs, the rickety sound of the steps coming back to mind from how you previously walked them. “However, you did catch my ear and it’s not because of an enhanced ability or cautious observation, but because you climbed your way here with intention behind every stomp your elevated heels etched into the floorboards. No one scuffs flooring unless they’re dragging about some kind of vendetta or they’re lackadaisical in their steps, yours far too prominent to be considered the latter.”

Out of curiosity, you throw a look behind your shoulder to assess his story and there’s a lemony scratch in the floor standing vibrantly against the opaque hickory that surrounds it. You compare the mark to the shape of your heel and you foolishly gulp down from how transparent your perturbation has been up to this point. Still, while he may be right about your less than friendly arrival, it doesn’t change anything. Actually, you’re finding yourself more irritated than before, his attitude too set in writing when you’ve barely muttered two sentences to him. Two sentences and he’s gone on some soliloquy exemplifying how he’s most likely not the easiest person in the world to talk to. Great, you have the worst kind of neighbor and you can join that bitter population of people who must deal with those they live beside no matter how much they don’t want to. Your exhale is steady leaving your nostrils in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Fine, then I have some kind of vendetta,” you parrot back to him and match his matter-of-factly tone. “It’s against you and your violin—”

“A noise complaint, right.” He nods his head as a headmaster would, as if you were a little girl raising her hand with an answer needing validation from the authority figure running the class. Your fists ball up at your sides. You don’t think you could handle one more second of his condescension.

“Yes, a noise complaint. I’ve been incredibly busy working and your violin makes it extremely difficult to think.” You puff out your last words, a breath of your current mood following closely behind. It doesn’t deter him and neither do your words. He remains where he is and mulls it over simultaneously as he regards your frame. Stagnant. Inspecting. Almost brooding. You’re in the middle of attempting to conjure another way to put this dilemma in order for this brick wall of a man to understand when he tilts his head down to look at the watch in his vest’s pocket.

“Strange. A seamstress needing to think,” he says, but it’s more to himself than it is to you. It doesn’t mean that it’s any less insulting. By how your blood’s curdling in your veins from the heat beginning to bubble underneath your skin, you’d argue that his response and behavior is that much more insulting.

“I beg your pardon, Mister—”

“Holmes. It’s Holmes.” He points a broad shoulder towards the door behind him. “I understand your concern, but you’re not the only tenant who works from home. While you claim the violin may not aid you in thought, it aids me greatly in it. So, if that’s all,” he leans forward and somehow the above fluorescence catches a gleam to the ice of his irises, “Some of us need to get back to work.”

With that, Mr. Holmes turns away from you, a flabbergasted feeling dawning onto you in his wake. Your mouth’s agape in an odd mix of shock, disgust, and incredulity as you watch him disappear and then promptly shut the door. Just as before, the golden letters taunt you all over again, beckoning your hand to knock and hold your ground. Except, that doesn’t happen. You don’t reach your hand up to try and create another debate with the tenant in flat 221B, not when you’re sure he would just walk you in circles. There are some people in this world you can’t win through speech and quite frankly, you’re too tired and agitated to engage him in anything other than another form of aggression. From how you recall him glancing at his pocket watch, it reminds you how you’re wasting your own limited time squandering over someone you just met. He’s a problem certainly, but not your current problem to resolve. The commission still needs to be dealt with and there’s better success there than here.

Swallowing your pride and gathering your last bits of etiquette to appear as a lady, you slowly withdraw from Mr. Holmes and his door to trot yourself back to the stairs. His voice echoes in your mind, the matter in which you previously ascended the steps being a stark volume. Despite this, you don’t hesitate to resume your stomping, each step booming as resolve slips through your fingers and your heel thuds into the wood with full intent rather than a subconscious one he caught onto too quickly. You take one final look back at the bottom of the staircase to see if the door budges, but nothing happens. But you know he heard it and for now, that’s enough for you to return to your flat to continue your current sewing project.

You sit at the machine and reset your needle, thread, and how you position the fabric before you’re falling back into the rhythm. It’s only when you begin to hear the violin humming through the walls again that it occurs to you that you never told Mr. Holmes you were a seamstress.

[tohokuu]

elysium rising - gojo satoru

REBLOG MY WORK. 

warnings : smut, fluff, angst, one sided friends to enemies to lovers, greek au, adultery/cheating, sukuna is an asshole, mentions of mass terror, blood and death.

underworld scenery inspired by lore olympus

a/n : reposting this with gojo. it’ll also be broken into parts so fill out the taglist form here ! 

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4.

“she who walks the floors of hell finds the key to the gates of her own heaven, buried there like a seed.” 

-

it was your misunderstanding that the charming king of the underworld would ever leave you alone. it was fate that day that lead him to you; beautiful beneath the glow of helios, picking flowers from demeter’s vast garden. with him, he had brought an odd looking dog. “cereberus.” he told you. “his name is cereberus.”

to say the dog was terrifying was an understatement. he was well over four feet, three heads protruding from it’s shoulders. cerberus was white and covered in black spots, a dalmation variant. he resembled the king in a way; tall and intimidating. however, the king behaved nothing like the tales your mother had told you as a child. demeter told you about the way he ruled the underworld with an iron fist. he was ruthless and greedy, and certainly never cared about anyone else’s feelings.

perhaps that was true. true for everyone else except you. that day, he had approached you with utmost kindness. his smile was captivating and his eyes shone so much, that your mothers garden reflected in his eyes. “you must be y/n.” he said. his voice dripped like sweet honey on a hot summer day. you nodded, taking in his beauty. you fumbled over your words, not knowing how to respond to someone as grand as him.

he laughed and dear gaia, it was so beautiful. his laugh flowed with the winds, and you swore your mothers garden that you wanted to hear it forever. “my name is gojo satoru, king of the underworld. i’m sure you’re familiar with my two brothers, choso and sukuna.”

you nodded, obviously familiar with the grand sukuna, god of the gods. you knew choso too well, all your time was spent with either your mothers garden nymphs or his water nymphs. all three brothers ruled over the three realms together.

sukuna was always wrapped up in another woman’s arms other than his wife, hera. choso was always off to rescue stranded clownfish halfway across the sea, but there was never any news of gojo, or at least never any good news of him.

“the god of the dead” they said. the older nymphs told you stories of him, how he took advantage of everyone around him, how he separated from his brothers due to an argument several hundred years ago. they told you the stories of how he attacked mortal villages, bathing in the blood that painted the skies. the stories of the underworld were equally terrifying. various dark hounds haunting the streets, terrorizing the souls that resided there.

“i’ve met your brothers, yes.” you responded, not wanting to seem too wrapped up in your daze.

the king seemed nothing like the way they had told you. other than his terrifying hell hound, he seemed rather harmless, but that could have been how he deceived all his victims. after a slight feeling of discomfort overcame you, you tried to come up with the best excuse to leave.

“i have to go. i’m sure my mother is wondering where i am.” he nodded, stepping aside to let you through and you were positive he was staring at you from behind with the way your skin crawled.

how had the atmosphere changed so fast ?

-

it was several hundred years later that you had seen him again, an established young goddess overlooking the garden you had grown up in. everything was quite fine that day until one of your younger sisters strolled into the large home you and your sisters lived in.

“mother ! the king is calling for you. it’s an emergency. yuuji said you must make haste!” and without much word to you, demeter strolled out. you knew your duties, so it isn’t like you needed a run down of it from her anyway.

but you wish you had at least kissed her goodbye when the ground beneath you split. the earth swallowed you whole while your sisters frantically ran to your siide, but it was to no avail.

your mother was not gone for more than ten minutes. the world seemed like it had split open and you knew this was no ordinary storm. the lightning resembled the shapes and patterns on king sukuna’s body too much. 

this was his doing. 

the air had been so clear before, why was it pouring now ? had sukuna no mercy ? was this a ploy to snatch you away from the comfort and warmth of your home ? all the thoughts of what could have been happening rushed to your head. why ? how ? you could see the butterflies from before disintegrate to dust, your sisters screams and tears filled the wind.

you tried to snatch vines to hold yourself to the green realm, but it wasn’t working. each piece of shrubbery that you touched felt hot. 

the garden before you burned and the streams of water that used to be clear were now muddled with grime. you fell, and fell and continued to fall. you saw the ground open up. dirt, rocks, and lava poured past you. you gasped in shock as the rubble hit you. long hair blowing in the air blurred your vision, you couldn’t see at all. the grey sky became smaller and smaller until it was a diamond above you.

the wind rushed passed your head and your ears went deaf. what could you do but accept your fate? there was no one to save you from the place you knew you’d end up in. 

a sliver of you knew he’d never give you up. he wasn’t kind and once something fell in his domain, he didn’t let it go very easily. 

REBLOG MY WORK.

©️ tohokuu. do not steal or plagiarize.

taglist form.

[divine-donna]

i gave a second chance to cupid

i’ve been listening to fifty fifty’s song “cupid” on repeat. not because i totally don’t completely relate to it or anything (i absolutely do).

but i thought it’d be cute to include what a second chance romance would be like with the hotd crew. so enjoy!! (this is by no means following the song, because that would make this post very angsty)

ser criston cole

the two of you had to separate. criston became a knight and your lover had to leave you. you two were children then. you came to king’s landing as an adult and with a child of your own. you would begin work in the palace while your child became a close friend with the princess helaena. and it was completely random how you ran into him. you were bringing something to the queen and there he was. and when criston’s eyes met yours, you saw them melt like years ago. but the two of you pretended to not know each other at moment and you left soon after. but at night, you saw him again and he held your hand with such tenderness it almost made you weep.

“we have been apart for years. i did not expect to see you in king’s landing, ever. but i am happy that fate has allowed us to reconcile.”

daemon targaryen

daemon had a fondness for driftmark, for many reasons. one of them was you. you two were lovers long ago, lovers once. but as time passed, you two had to separate due to duties. he had to leave and he didn’t come back for a while. and when he returned with laena, you were not there either. it wasn’t until the dance did he see you. you had carved your own way, formed a small army that was well trained. and you came to pledge to rhaenyra’s claim. you were still as attractive as before.

“it is a lovely surprise to see you here, dear (y/n). how long has it been? years?...well, people change. my hair is shorter than before, i know. but it is good to have you here and to be able to spend time with you again.”

rhaenyra targaryen

being the crowned heir, the princess, the realm’s delight, made things very difficult. when it came to wanting certain relationships, she was restricted y her status to maintain a certain image and to not pursue who she really wanted. she wanted you but her marriage to laenor velaryon would not allow for it. and you were too heartbroken to see your lover with someone else. you disappeared off the face of westeros for years. and you didn’t come back until after the dance when rhaenyra sat on the throne. and when she saw you enter the great hall, she almost lept from the iron throne.

“time has treated you well, (y/n). you come richer than when we first met, a successful merchan, and with gifts. your generous spirit has no wavered, i see. come join me in my chambers after the feast.”

alicent hightower

you died. you died before the two of you could run away together. she saw you killed right before her eyes and resigned herself to a life of duty and sacrifice. alicent suffered many years without you, thinking about how happy she would have been to be with you alone. when the war ended and rhaenyra took the throne, the queen decided to show mercy. but the leader of the greens would be banished from the lands of westeros, exiled. there was a sort of pain in her heart when thinking about that, about not being alive after her children and grandchildren had been killed. but when she saw who was manning the boat to take her away, she could not believe her eyes.

“i...i had to be sure it was you. i saw you die! killed by robbers! how are you? have the gods shown mercy? did the stranger decide not to guide you into the afterlife!”

aegon targaryen

right before the greens completely crushed the blacks, you had disappeared. aegon assumed that you, his longtime lover, had been taken prisoner when the blacks took control of king’s landing. but when looking through the cells, you were nowhere to be found. he assumed you had been killed when his grandfather was and when his sister-wife had jumped out of the window. years later into his kinghood, he spots a familiar face in court: you. you don’t seem to notice him, but he notices you. and that you’re dressed up in nice silks and with jewels and rings.

“it has been a long time (y/n). where have you been? i had the every inch of the red keep searched to find you, even a body. even all throughout king’s landing. and nothing. but here you are now, in front of me.”

aemond targaryen

becoming a successful war general required sacrifices. he had to sacrifice his devotion to you for the sake of his brother’s throne, even if he didn’t deserve it. you were too heartbroken and ran back to your home, disappeared from the war. during the nights, aemond would wonder where you were, what you were doing, what you were wearing, if you were reading and sleeping enough. no matter how much attention his betrothed tried to get from him, floris baratheon got none. and eventually, she died during the war. an unfortunate tragedy. but years later, he still wondered about you. sure he took lovers on occasion, but they didn’t last for long. that was until one day, when a rising vassal house under the lannisters entered the great hall, aemond saw you. you saw him too, but paid him no mind despite the fact that the only man who had your heart had aged like fine wine.

“(y/n), it has been a long time. i see that time has been rather kind to you....of course i have many questions. but now is not the time to ask, not during my nephew’s name day feast. see me in my room later so we can catch up.”

helaena targaryen

the world has changed. a woman ascending to the iron throne shook up the social rules of westeros. being banished from westeros was not as bad as it seemed to be. helaena just wished that you, her lover from long ago, were with her. it was quite lonely to be traveling, but she was making a decent living working at an inn. why had you disappeared? where had you disappeared to? she asked herself these questions as she worked. but when she went down to the market, she saw the face of someone familiar shucking oysters and asking her if she would like to try one.

“these oysters...they’re good. and fresh. i think the inn could use a few of these. you should come over some time. our food is quite good actually.”

jacaerys velaryon

the two of you were not meant to be. at least when you first saw each other. two opposite sides of a war. jace found it suitable that the two of you not interact. it made perfect sense. your family pledged fidelity to the greens and by default, that was who you were aligned with. he hadn’t seen you for years. the battle for the iron throne was rough but his mother won, sitting on the chair that controls the entirety of the continent. and he was the prince, her crowned heir. it’s been years since then. running courts is quite tiresome. but who enters the great hall but you, having ascended to take over your house for the time being.

“welcome (y/n). i presume you are here to give us your grievances. please know you can talk to me. anytime, anywhere.”

[vigilskeep]

I agree with your points about homophobia in Thedas being an consistent thing (though I've personally always gotten the vibe that similarly to a lot of the sexism in the setting it was writer biases coming in as opposed to like, a truly thought out part of the setting) but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on where situations like Teagan Rowan and Eamon's two dads fit in here? It's always struck me as so weird that homophobia is def an established thing but also these two were so accepted that Eamon naming his son after his commoner father seemingly wasn't even scandalous at all. I mean it's nice obv I'm just confused by it from a Ferelden politics lore perspective? Feels like I'm missing something. Sry if this question is rambly/not worded well I am very tired

so here’s the codex entry that discusses the politics of homosexuality in thedas most directly!

What I find most interesting is that, despite the lack of open discussion on matters of human sexuality, there is commonality to be found on the subject in all Andrastian lands. Typically, one's sexual habits are considered natural and separate from matters of procreation, and only among the nobility, where procreation involves issues of inheritance and the union of powerful families, is it considered of vital importance. Yet, even there, a noble who has done their duty to the family might be allowed to pursue their own sexual interests without raising eyebrows.

The view on indulging lusts with a member of the same gender varies from land to land. In Orlais, it is considered a quirk of character and nothing more. In Ferelden, it is a matter of scandal if done indiscreetly but otherwise nothing noteworthy. In Tevinter, it is considered selfish and deviant behavior among nobles, but actively encouraged with favored slaves. Nowhere is it forbidden, and sex of any kind is only considered worthy of judgment when taken to awful excess or performed in the public eye.

so you can get more of an idea of how varied it is and what it looks like in a few different nations in particular! i don’t know what the legalities are about marriage though. it’s for sure legal in orlais. so i imagine, in finally a win for the orlesian chantry in general, they do have gay marriage? broadly the homophobia seems more of a social thing than having much in the way of legal ramifications

as for the guerrin situation, it’s important to note that the guerrin siblings had three parents. arl rendorn guerrin had a wife, marina, with whom he presumably biologically had rowan, eamon, and teagan. eamon’s son connor who we see possessed in dao is named after rendorn’s lover connor. so first of all, eamon teagan and rowan’s two dads were never legally married. you could consider that a logical compromise alongside the codex lines “Yet, even there, a noble who has done their duty to the family might be allowed to pursue their own sexual interests without raising eyebrows.” and “In Ferelden, it is a matter of scandal if done indiscreetly but otherwise nothing noteworthy.”

the real issue is that the codex in which the mistake was made that led to connor senior’s existence refers to connor sr, textually, in a work of chantry scholarship, as eamon’s father. which feels like a really strong move if you accept that this would be scandalous if public. in-world, there’s a lot of reasons this could be. firstly, the aforementioned codex is written by sister dorcas guerrin, who is, herself, a lesser cousin of the family and may have had some personal understanding of the relationships involved. secondly, rendorn and connor sr were war heroes who died at the battle of west hill fighting to free ferelden, and may receive some political and social leeway in that regard. thirdly, and most adventurously, maybe connor sr was eamon’s biological father and rendorn was the one biologically uninvolved, and rendorn took some legal means to legitimise him. which. is far-fetched but i enjoy because it makes eamon’s obsession with the theirin bloodline absolutely unhinged behaviour.

that does lead us to the fact that of course, as a late addition made to redress a codex mistake, this all kind of falls apart when you look at rowan and eamon’s canonical approaches to love triangles/squares and accusations of bastard children respectively, but man, if you take all this as canon, what an insane relationship the guerrin throuple must have had for their kids to turn out Like That about it

again, it varies, especially in private. the couslands for example are extremely casual about it; if a male warden arranges a one night stand with a man during the origin, he can mention it to his brother fergus (in front of fergus’ extremely pious wife and their young son!) who will simply laugh about it and make an older brotherly protective joke about, like, fighting the guy for him if he does him wrong, which i assume is the exact same line a female warden gets if they do the same. you don’t even mention to fergus that it’s a man—there’s an alternate version if you went with a woman—he just knows one way or the other, implying he already knows this about you and is very relaxed about it

[thegrimalldis]

Maximilian - Episode Three: The Lovers

𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠| 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬| 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 |

Transcript under the cut

[Luna]: You have to be quite. No one can know you are in here.

[Maximilian]: You're upset, I know it. Did something happen?

[Luna]: My father knows about us.

[Maximilian]:And that’s a bad thing? We don’t have to hide from him anymore.

[Luna]: You don't understand.

[Maximilian]: Understand what?

[Maximilian]: Tell me, Luna. What don’t I understand?

[Luna]: I should have never gotten involved with you, I’m sorry. This has to end between us, Max. I'm to be...married off next year.

[Maximilian]: Married off? You’re...engaged? You’ve been engaged this whole time?

[Luna]: It's a political match. My father signed and sealed the arrangement with Melide before I was four years old.  

[Maximilian]: People still do that? Arrange marriages?

[Luna]: Many royal families still do. My parents were arranged and their parents before them. No one in the Lapré family ever marries for love.

[Maximilian]: You can be the first. You can say no to them. You don’t have to marry someone you don’t love. It’s wrong.  

[Luna]: Backing out now would offend the new Queen Elizabeth. It could cost my father his closes ally and right now he needs Melide and their army.

[Maximilian]: We could marry. You could do more for Aquitaine as a Queen of Monaca then you could ever do as a Princess of Melide.

[Luna]: You would marry me? Don’t you want to marry for love?

[Maximilian]: Who says I don’t love you?

[Luna]: You...you love me?

[Maximilian]: You're the first person who has ever made me feel like myself. So yeah, I love you. I’m in love with you.

-

[Maximilian]: Are you sure about this?

[Luna]: I’ve never been more sure about anything.

-

[Luna]: I wish I could stay in this moment forever.

-

[Leopold]: I have nothing against your boy. This is just a delicate situation.

[The King]: I understand. Had I known something was going on between them, I would never have brought him.

[Leopold]: The sooner they are separated, the sooner they will forget about one another.

-

[Claudette]: How is the state visit going? Have you spoken to Maximilian?

[Morana]: Yes, this morning. They should be returning this evening.

[Claudette]: So soon?

[Morana]: It seems Max has gotten himself... mixed up with the Aquitaine Princess.

[Claudette]: Oh dear.

[Morana]: I am sure it was just a flirtation, nothing more. He will be attending St. George in the coming weeks. There will be many other respectful girls from good families that can capture his attention there.  

[Claudette]:   He cannot marry just any girl, Morana.   Maximilian Rosen Grimalldi is the future of Monaca.

[Claudette]: His duty is to find the right woman.

[Claudette]: One who the people will love as their princess and in due course as Queen.  

[Claudette]: His future wife must be able to represent a vision of what the monarchy could be in this modern age.

[Claudette]: She must be absolutely captivating.  

[The crowds]: Eleanor look this way! Princess Eleanor!

[Morana]: Does a woman like that even exist?

[Claudette]: Oh, she exists. The problem though is if Maximilian is willing to find her.

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death Part 11

Deimos x f!reader noncon! Enemies to Lovers

4.2k words

CW: noncon!elements, dubcon!elements

Parts: 1, 10

The next day is hectic. With only one day between Rook’s offer and the showcase, he’d harped you until you gave in and then the real work started. Shipments arrived in droves, crates of both female and male variants of striker and sentry uniforms, all arriving within the same time window, all requiring signatures and last minute adjustments and returns.

Between distribution and order corrections and setting up the auditorium for the unveiling and presentation Rook was busy as a bee and when you’d come in that morning and told him you’d agreed to help you were taken by surprise as he suddenly lifted you up in his arms and spun you around, prattling off praise in French that was spoken way too quickly to discern.

“Rook! Rook! Put me down!”

You did catch the gist of it with the kiss he pressed to your cheek when he finally relented and stopped spinning you.

“Sorry, Cherie. You just have no idea how grateful I am that you showed up when you did!” He let you down and you had to quiet the butterflies in your stomach, you hadn’t been picked up and twirled since you were like five. “What do you need me to do?” You asked, glossing over his apology to hide your flustered state.

He quickly went over what he needed you to do, which amounted to waiting around for the deliveries to arrive, signing for them and then sorting the boxes into one of four piles, easy enough work.

When he’d finished explaining everything he pulled a walkie-talkie from a charging station on one of the far desks in the room. “If you run into any trouble or you need anything just use this.” He turned it on to make sure it had a charge before reaching around to the back of his belt to show you his. “I’m set to channel 5.” You nodded and took it from him, securing it around the back of your belt like you’d seen him do.

Duty called and he didn’t stay long, just one last moment to thank you from the bottom of his heart, the sincerity in his eyes and gratitude in his voice grating against the ulterior motives hidden like a Trojan horse in your sudden bout of generosity, making it almost impossible to hide the reflective wince it brought on.

If there’s anything for you to feel bad about in the aftermath of this whole debacle, any regrets you could put a finger on it’d be treating Rook like this, he certainly doesn’t deserve it. He’d been nothing but gracious and patient and attentive to you since you’d come home, probably drawn from some sort of residual guilt for sending you out there in the first place. But it doesn’t change the fact that what’s done is done.

There’s no coming back from this. Maybe in another lifetime, under very different circumstances, something might have blossomed between you and the kindhearted Frenchman with a penchant for wounded pigeons but you’re on different paths now.

You watch him go and don’t even throw a secondary glance over your shoulder before you’re already snooping around in the boxes, looking for a size large pair of combat pants, an XL in compression top and vest, not to mention the rest of the accessories that completed the look. If you were doing this it absolutely had to be correct, right down to the gloves and goggles. It didn’t help that you had to keep bringing out the sketch, comparing the prototypes to the examples on the boxes to even separate the sentry sets from the striker sets. It had to be perfect and it had to be smooth.

Gathering what you needed as the shipments came in, you hid them in an extra empty box, stashed away separately from everything else so you could tote it away inconspicuously later.

The buzzer in the garage sounded and from the monitors you could see another delivery guy waiting around outside with yet another set of boxes resting on his hip. You called down over the intercom to let him know you were on your way before jumping up and heading out to retrieve it.

All in all, it was coming together rather nicely. It may have been a bit of a boring way to spend your afternoon, but you didn’t mind. You’d gotten lucky that an opportunity as simple and convenient as this had surfaced and you weren’t one to look too closely at miracles when they occurred. You’re beginning to believe you can actually pull this off, just smuggle him right out from under their noses.

You get to the garage to deal with what had to be the eighth delivery man of the day. Wondering how the hell they couldn’t have coordinated this better as you scribble your name on the little tablet he’d handed over. You thank the man and send him on his way, setting the trio of boxes off to the side as you watch him retreat back to his truck. These were heavy, plates and plate carriers you were guessing by the markings on the sides, it’d take you two trips at least.

You were about to begin your first trek when a shadow fell over you. You’d assumed it to be someone sent by Rook or perhaps one of the two guys you’d passed a couple times who had been leaning in the hallway who had come to help. But as you turned, the polite smile on your face fell and your heart dropped.

“Hey there, you.” Fisher.

“Those look heavy. Need a hand?” You took an instinctive step back and bumped into the boxes stacked behind you. “Fisher. Uh.. umm.. No.” You shut your eyes to try and regain your composure as your pulse rises in your throat and you feel your hands growing clammier by the second. When you open them you’re no better off than before you’d closed them.

You double down, try to hold your ground against him but his gaze is piercing. Like an entomologist will pin back a butterfly’s wings, he’s pulling you apart piece by piece and nailing you to the wall, exposing you like your lies are painted on your skin, examining you with a laser-focused scrutiny to decipher them. “No, i-it’s fine, I got it.”

He closes the small bit of distance you’d put between the two of you, towering as his shadow lengthens, threatening to swallow you whole. “I never did get a chance to welcome you to the team. What under the miraculous circumstances of your promotion you’ve been as toured around as sanctimonious as a saint.”

You swallow but nothing goes down, tongue dried to papyrus in his presence, not that the ball of lead that’s become your belly would accept anything even if you could. “I’ve been waiting for just the moment when I could finally get you all to myself. You’re a hard woman to pin down, you know that?”

“They’ve really been keeping me busy, ya know?” You laugh, a breathy, humorless, nervous sound; no more than air chuffed up from the shallows of your drawn up lungs. “It helps.” You tack on, uselessly.

“I’ve gotta know, how did you manage to not only be the last person on your squad to still be breathing after crossing paths with one of Rainbow’s most elite.. most notorious.. hell, most infamously dangerous enemies of all time; but also somehow make it out of his compound alive after over a month of what I’m assuming to be the worst, most excruciating torture regiments the human mind is capable of conjuring. I mean the stuff he talked about doing to you..” He whistles, and in the vast, open expanses of the concrete garage it echoes far and wide, stinging to your ears.

As spacious as the garage may be, you suddenly feel suffocated, like the walls are closing in, drawing tight around you as you find there is no more room to back away, your back literally to the wall as your hands drop back behind you to confirm the legitimacy of its finite restrictions. And he just keeps coming, his individual boot falls deafening in the open space.

“I’ve seen seasoned soldiers come back from POW camps broken beyond repair.. just absolutely fucked in the head after being subjected to things that make what he claims you went through look like a cake walk. So please, tell me dear, how did you manage to keep your head? What on earth did you cling to keep you going? Please, I’ve gotta know.”

Panic dogs the greater logistic power of your brain, shooting bright red flares up from the depths of your knotting stomach into the clouded skies of your mind and scrambling your thoughts. It’s only by chance that your hand grazes the walkie-talkie mounted to your hip and it’s by sheer instinctive reaction alone that you decide to start depressing the talk button on the side with what you can only hope is the correct combination of dots and dashes.

Rook had been hunched over a soundboard, tampering with the treble and bass sliders trying to perfect the echo and reverberation of the looping sample track when the walkie started to go off on his hip. He ignored it at first, uncontent with the tinny feedback that was sharp and piercing to his ears on every percussive syllable. It made the p’s and t’s coming from the sample audio resound from the speakers and off the walls like tiny sonic booms.

He was really out of his element in this aspect anyways, anything tech related that wasn’t weaponry just wasn’t his forte. This was more of Timothy’s expertise and he knew it but he couldn’t seem to find the young technician anywhere. In truth, he was over this task ten minutes ago, he’d heard the phrase “Preparing and Initiating Base Test.” so often in the past twenty minutes he’s sure he will hear it in his dreams later, if he’s able to catch any sleep at all.

So when a minute had passed and the strange static and beeps kept on coming through the walkie talkie he took it from its place on his hip and pressed down on the receiver. “Yes, Cherie?” He waited but no reply came, just the same series of beeps and static. There was a strange quality to the noise, something troubling and nagging at him from the back of his brain. The statics and beeps seemed to be repeating, like a pattern. He rushed from the auditorium as his conscious mind seized upon what his subconscious was trying to tell him this whole time. You were trying to send him out an S.O.S.

“Look Fisher, I’ve really gotta get these upstairs. Rook’s really got his hands full and he needs my-“

He cuts you off. “What you need.. is to tell the truth.” Your blood runs cold. Exactly how much did Fisher know? You thought you’d been careful, watching your back, covering your tracks, wiping the cams. But you can’t help but feel like somewhere along the way, at some crucial point in time you’d made a fatal error and here it was in the flesh to bite back at you.

When Rook entered the garage he’d taken one quick sweep and almost turned away to look for you elsewhere but something in his gut made him take a last look around and when he spied you and a large figure tucked away in a corner by the visitors gate he surged forward. But as he drew closer he realized he recognized the shape of the man towering over you and it was suddenly clear to him that he’d interrupted something he was never meant to see.

“Sam?” Fisher turns, annoyance surfacing and then receding from his features in a passing flit which only deepened the confusion written across his own. “What’s going on?”

Sam turns back to you, his expression stoic but his eyes stern. “I was just helping your little delivery girl with these heavy boxes, warning her of the danger of lifting with her back instead of her knees, isn’t that right?”

To Rook, your silence was deafening and painted a whole different picture of events, though he said nothing, following your cue. Fisher, aware that his foothold on the situation was now lost, began his retreat, but not without one more thinly veiled threat. His message was clear, he’s onto you.

“Be wary of the burdens of heavy weight, sweetheart. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” He leaves the two of you with that, walking out of the garage and disappearing out of sight around the corner. You both watched him go and when he was gone Rook went into assessment mode. “Cherie, are you alright? I got your message. What was that about?”

You hoped he wouldn’t look too closely at the situation, just sweep it under the rug if you attempted to brush him off. “Nothing.” You had no such luck, his head cocked to the side a bit and he gave you a knowing look.

Too many questions with way too many variations of possible answers. All of them tricky, some of them concealing landmines underneath that could have the whole thing blowing up in your face. You default to partial honesty, the truth but not the whole truth, lies slide off the tongue easier when they're grounded in reality.

“Not everyone is as welcoming as you’ve been.” He gives you a sympathetic look and it seems like this isn't the first time he’s heard this opinion.

“You have nothing to prove and no one to answer to. They should all be ashamed for treating you like an outsider when there’s no one more responsible for what happened to you than we are.” His head dips a bit in shame. “Than I am.”

You reach out and settle a hand on his arm. “Rook.”

He pulls away. “No. It’s true. You never should have been out there in the first place, and I signed off on it even against my better judgment, but it does not matter.” His voice is heavy with regret and that nagging guilt is building up around the seams of your mind again.

You center yourself in front of him. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me since I stepped off the truck. Please, stop feeling guilty for what happened, it’s in the past.” His eyes search yours and find nothing but sincerity and it relieves the ache in his chest in one way but intensifies it in another.

“Please, call me Julian.” It’s all he can think to say without breaking down entirely in front of you and spilling his guts.

“Thank you Julian.” Falling from your lips, his name has never sounded so divine. He almost regrets giving it to you because he knows now he’ll only ever spend his time chasing to hear you say it again. He has to shift his eyes from you to clear his head and his misty heart. It’s long enough for you to begin to stoop down and start to gather up the boxes and he drops down to stop you.

“No, Cherie please. Let me. You’ve done enough for today. These are the last of the shipments anyway, you deserve a break.” He goes to take the box from your arms but you stop him.

“No, let me at least take this box upstairs and finish.” He looks ready to refuse you again so you add on. “It’s a pride thing. Please, Julian.” At that his eyes soften and he lets go, allowing you to stand with one of the heavy boxes piled onto your arms.

“Ok, at least let me accompany you then.” You smile and see him just about melt, you can see the puppy love swirling in his irises and feel a pang of guilt stab through you. If you were going to hell for any reason, it was for leading on the kindest, most gentle hearted man you’d ever met and if there were any other way you’d let him down easy, but you need the security and opportunity his favor provides and you so you play along.

The trip back upstairs is a quiet one, both of you lost in the throes of your own thoughts, though with both vastly different and all too similar worries. When you do make it up to the supply room and get the boxes set into their appropriate places Rook seems to linger a bit. He turns to you and sways a bit in a way that’s not like him, always moving precisely with a purpose but now shifting back and forth in what you decipher as indecision.

“I just wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done today. It really means a lot to me and I’m sorry again for Fisher and well.. for everything. This shouldn’t be how you’re welcomed back. You deserve better.” God if he keeps this up you’re going to crack. You can’t even look him in the eye right now.

“I’m glad to help, and don’t worry about it. I can handle it, really.” Just then a guy you’d never met before pops his head into the room and breaks the tension to your relief.

“Rook. I need you back at the stage, some of the wiring is missing and I need it to complete the sound system setup. Oh, and Mira’s looking for you. Again.” Rook looks anything but pleased, but he answers back agreeably and without letting his disappointment leak into his tone. “I’ll be right there, Timothy.”

When the guy disappears Rook catches your gaze again. “Go get some rest, and pray for me.” You laugh to appease him and watch him go before pulling out the walkie from your back hip, your saving grace, and placing it back onto the dock to charge. You think back to being cornered by Fisher in the garage. You wonder what would have happened if Rook hadn't given you that walkie talkie, or maybe if he hadn’t heard it or understood. You shiver to think about just what Fisher is capable of if he catches onto what you're up to. If he only knew.

With the coast clear, you grab the box of goodies you’d pilfered and after adding what you needed from the last two shipments, carry them hastily and with purpose back to your dorm. You’d take them down to him only right before your escape attempt, you don’t need them getting swept away somehow.

Once in the safety of your private quarters, you let the box drop from your arms and let yourself fully decompress, throwing yourself down onto your bed and letting out a long, heavy sigh into the pillow. You thrust your arms underneath it in preparation for a therapeutic muffled scream when you felt something that did not belong.

Grabbing hold of it and pulling it out into the open to examine better, you saw it was a single sugar packet. Written in small neat print on the face were the words ‘Derived from 100% Pure Sugar Cane’. There was no confusion to how it got there, no question in your mind of where it came from and you knew immediately what it meant. He needed to see you. How he’d managed to get this into your room was a mystery you'd only be able to solve by talking to him so why waste the time?

You immediately got up and went to him, without a second thought for if it was the right thing to do or even if it was safe.

You got lucky, there was no one watching him at the moment, Rook probably had absolutely every single idle hand available working at something that needed to be done before tomorrow. You fucked with the cameras and audio feed just like you’d done before before descending the stairs to his cell.

The room echoed with the slam of the heavy metal door as it shut behind you. You had rushed down to the holding cells as fast as you could without drawing attention to yourself, but closed the distance between the head of the room and the bars of his cell at a slow, hesitant crawl.

When you were still about fifteen feet away, you stopped short and broke the silence. “You told me not to come back.” You spat it, unable to keep the hurt edge from your voice.

“And yet, here you are.” You haven’t looked at him yet, don’t want to but he calls out to you and your eyes snap to his as if on command, he looks worse.

“What do you want?” You jump straight to the point, unwilling to idle in conversation for fear of what emotions it may stir, you can’t afford to delve into them right now. If you truly mean to get out of this compound with him in one piece tomorrow you’d need nothing but pure focus, and a good bit of luck with that.

“I know you’re planning an escape. We need to come together if it’s going to work.”

You blurt out the next question that comes to mind, it’s an impulse, but one you can’t help but indulge. “And how is that? You been watching me? I was under the impression you didn’t give a shit.” His head cocks a bit, probably a reflex from spending all those years communicating partially with body language to get his point across, you hate how it makes your heart quicken.

“I told you I’ve got friends in low places, sweetheart. I meant it. And if you think for a second I ever stopped caring you’re-“ You silently lift a hand to stop him and he quiets but his eyes still hold yours, telling everything.

“Then you know about our little problem?” Based on the way his brow furrows and his unbroken silence it suggests he doesn’t. You fill him in.

“Fisher knows.” His gaze hardens and you can tell somehow, somewhere along the line, him and Fisher have a much deeper history than meets the eye.

“How much?” You shake your head.

“I don’t know. He cornered me in the garage today, about thirty minutes ago actually. Gave me a warning, something about bearing the burden of heavy weight. Rook showed up in time to intervene but he wasn’t exactly subtle. Still though, I don’t think Rook is in the loop or caught what was really going on.” He seemed to contemplate this for a moment before speaking.

“It doesn’t matter, we still move forward. Tomorrow is an opportunity we can’t afford to lose. I’ll deal with Fisher personally should he get in the way.” You silently nod in agreement. You’re not confident if you were to go hand to hand with Fisher that you’d come out on top or even at all for that matter.

There’s a break in conversation and you can tell he’s trying to get you to look at him, you don’t cave, can’t cave. Not now, not with so much at stake.

“Sugar cane-“ He’s coaxing and you want nothing more but to go to him. “I can’t Deimos. If we’re gonna do this, I need to focus. You can tell me whatever you have to say after we’re on the other side of those walls.” You chance a glance up to catch him nod in understanding.

“What’s the plan, then?” You explain every inch of it in fine detail. Starting with the disguise you’ll be using to get him up to the ground level and ending with the old tunnel system you’d be utilizing to get beyond the walls unseen.

“I thought the entrance to those tunnels were blown out a long time ago.” You answer, jumping at the chance to impress him, even if you’re still hurt.

“They were, but they were reopened again as a result of the renovations made to what is now stadium alpha, there’s a new access just under the stands, and I’ve got a map once we get through.” He puts a hand up.

“No need.” It’s your turn to cock your head in confusion.

“It’s been years, Deimos. You really think you can navigate off memory alone after all this time?” He smiles and it makes your stomach feel full of butterflies.

“These were my stomping grounds far before they were yours, sugar cane. You get us down into those tunnels and I’ll get us the rest of the way.” You smile back at him, it’s hard not to.

“What time does it start?” He inquires.

“Show starts at 12, but they’ll be in gear long before then. We shouldn’t wait until the last possible moment, I’d like to go as soon as we can. What’s the guard rotation look like?”

He answers promptly. “They bring me breakfast at 6:30, then there’s no one down here until usually around 10 and only then for long enough to take the garbage away, though I gather they probably have someone monitoring me far more from the cameras than I’m aware.”

“Not tomorrow they won’t, it’s a shit show up there right now, all hands on deck. I’ll bring your outfit down about 7:30 then, we’ll get you changed and worry about getting out from there.

“You better get some sleep then, soldier.” You agree and turn away, heading out the door and up the stairs, wanting to leave on that encouraging note in lieu of dredging up sour emotions. You have a lot of work ahead of you. Tomorrow you break him out.

[sooinbloom]

The Kingdom of Us

Chapter 10

pairing: kyungsoo x OFC genre: Royal!AU, nonidol!soo, crownprince!kyungsoo, romance, drama theme: arranged marriage, modern royalty, enemies to lovers, war, betrayal word count: 6,947 description: Kyungsoo and Alina get surprising news, King Daniel returns to Alina’s life and Kyungsoo goes toe to toe with the very man who hurt his princess. warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, physical assault, fighting using weapons. MINORS DNI

author’s notes: hello dear reader! I apologize for not updating timely but I decided to share this with you today to celebrate Kyungsoo’s song Popcorn reaching over a million streams on Spotify and over a million views on YouTube! We are so close to Blossom, I am so excited. Please enjoy this chapter, it’s only going to get more intense from here. Photos are not mine, dividers by @saradika-graphics . Enjoy!

ALINA

I didn’t remember falling asleep in the library, or how I got into bed. With a stretch, I realize that I’m draped in Kyungsoo’s shirt he was wearing yesterday. I snuggle into it and smile to myself. Despite the war, he manages to give me the beauty I’ve missed since the attacks started. We are required to be strong as leaders, but behind closed doors it’s weighing heavy on me. The images of people suffering and everything around them being destroyed eats at me, and the fact that we’ve entered into a world war against a crooked King and delusional allies.

Spending time with Kyungsoo made me see that what we have is real and not a fantasy, he proved to be my best source of comfort in these uncertain times. The war caused us to be separated and busy with relief work and a lot of military strategy, but we knew this was just the reality of our positions as Crown Prince and Princess. I’ve heard whispers about my father-in-law not wanting to perform his duties as King. It’s uncharacteristic of him to shrink back, I have an undeniable suspicion that he may hand the Crown over to Kyungsoo as to keep his name out of this war. Kyungsoo hasn’t spoken about it, but I know it must be weighing heavy on his mind. He does most duties of a king without the title anyway, and our allies are becoming confident that we can win this war with him leading the fight.

“Darling, you’re awake.” Kyungsoo walks into our room and leans down to kiss me. He’s in his military fatigues and that sharpens my attention. I sit up and his shirt slides up my thighs, his curious eyes follow the fabric as it slips and pools at my hips.

“Why are you in your fatigues, amorcito?” I ask curiously.

“Things are changing rapidly, princess. It’s looking as though that I have to fight in this war, our alliances are urging every man to fight and I can’t sit idly by because of my title as Crown Prince,” Kyungsoo sighs, he can see the anxiety in my eyes, “Hey… Don’t be anxious. I’ll be fine, love.”

“It doesn’t stop my worrying.” I grumble. Kyungsoo sits on the bed and brings me to his side, his fingers trace my hip gently.

“Look at me, listen to me. This war may separate us temporarily, but I’ll fight my way back to you. I’ll keep you safe even if I’m not at your side. To prove it, there’s two people I want you to meet today.” Kyungsoo smiles.

“Two people? Who?” I curiously raise a brow.

“Trust me, darling. Go get dressed. And… make sure you cover these up.” Kyungsoo cheekily grins, caressing the purple marks he left on my neck and chest. I blush at the realization that there’s something to cover up in the first place.

“Yes, Your Highness.” I wink, walking toward my wardrobe. I pick out a more formal outfit, a skirt that falls past my knees, a chunky sweater and flats. Though it’s springtime, it’s still on the colder side so the sweater works in my benefit to cover the marks on my chest. I pluck my makeup from its place near my accessories and take a quick shower. While getting dressed, I wonder who it is that I’ll be meeting today. I put my makeup on and make sure to cover the love marks on my neck, my body tingles at the thought of how they got there. Kyungsoo is… Quite the lover. I feel so wanted by him, so loved… It’s a stark contrast from where we were when we first met. I sigh and fix my hair in two braids, a more traditional style than what I have been wearing lately. I meet Kyungsoo in the common room and his smile radiates on his face.

“You’re so beautiful, darling.” Kyungsoo smiles as he takes my hand in his. We walk to the War Room, a place I’ve only been in a handful of times. Two men stand talking with Commander Jongin and Commander Minseok, one of them has a boisterous laugh that feels familiar. Once Commander Minseok sees us coming, he immediately turns and salutes us, the three other men doing the same.

“At ease, gentleman.” Kyungsoo calls, keeping his hand in mine, “Good morning, Commanders and Lieutenants. Thank you for being on time today on short notice. Crown Princess Alina needs additional security during these troubling times, and I only want the best for my wife. That is why I requested you, Lieutenants, to keep a close eye on her. Crown Princess, I would like for you to meet Lieutenants Kim Jongdae and Oh Sehun. They are my best assassins, some of my most trusted men.”

Both Lieutenants bow to me, and my eyes settle on Lieutenant Jongdae. My eyes water as he smiles at me, and it’s then that I realize exactly why this emotion overwhelmed me.

“Lieutenant Jongdae, please forgive me, but you remind me so much of my brother, Ignacio.” I smile, holding back my tears.

“Crown Princess, thank you for such an honored comparison. I fought alongside His Royal Highness on my last tour. He spoke very highly of you, Your Highness.” Lieutenant Jongdae nods politely. Kyungsoo squeezes my hand and offers a soft smile. He knows how much I’ve been missing my brothers and following the news of the battles happening in Azteco.

“Please, call me Alina, as we will more than likely be spending a lot of time together.” I insist with a soft smile.

“It’s against protocol to call you anything other than your titles, Crown Princess.” Lieutenant Sehun lowers his head.

“Lieutenant, I will tell you this about my wife. If Crown Princess Alina wants something, she gets it and there’s no arguing. So, if she feels more comfortable with you calling her by her name, then that’s what she gets. However, proceed with caution when around the royal family.” Kyungsoo explains with a soft laugh. Something is off, why would Kyungsoo out of nowhere want to have new military personnel watch over me? Especially Seoul’s highest regarded assassins? I just graciously nod and smile and try to put the pieces together.

“I will take that in regard, Crown Prince.” Lieutenant Sehun nods.

“Excuse me? Crown Princess? I am here to collect you for revisions for the relief aid plan?” Lisette enters the room with a deep bow. I turn and nod, then focus back on the commanders and lieutenants in the room.

“It’s a pleasure seeing and meeting all of you. I hope you work hard today.” I bow to them, and they lower their heads. I look at Kyungsoo and bow to him, his hand brushes mine quickly. I turn to Lisette and following her out of the room. “What revisions need to be made?”

“Somehow, at the border of Valencia, Azteco is stopping the caravans and seizing the relief supplies we have sent in the last three weeks.” Lisette explains. I have relied heavily on Lisette and her organization skills to help me with all of these efforts. We enter the palace again and we sit at Lisette’s desk, discussing the plans of how to get a workaround for all of the aid. Once we’re done with that, she gushes to me about the secret dates she’s been having with Duke Chanyeol. It doesn’t surprise me that they started seeing each other secretly.

“Amiga, he is such a good kisser.” She gushes.

“Is he?” I laugh, “I’m just worried that someone will find out and blow your cover.”

“I know… We’re trying to figure out what to do, it’s been six months or so now and we both want more. He just can’t marry me because of Seoul Law. He doesn’t have a betrothal but is expected to marry someone of noble birth.” Lisette sighs.

“Perhaps, your title can change, as you and your mother did assist the Queen and Princess of Mariposa for a long time. Perhaps you can become a viscountess at my command…” I muse, Lisette’s eyes widen.

“How?! Tell me! What do I need to do?”

“Leave it to me, Amiga. Just because things are uncertain right now, your love doesn’t have to be. I’ll talk to Kyungsoo and see what I can possibly do about it.” I nod, feeling the onset of a headache gnawing at my temples. “I’m sorry, Lissy. I’m getting a headache. I’m going to lie down for a bit. Send me any updates about the relief aid, and your lover.”

“Oh, please don’t get stressed, okay? We’ll talk later!” Lisette smiles. I nod and make my way back to our chambers, sending a quick message to Kyungsoo.

alina amorcito, I’m getting a headache, Going to rest. I’m okay Love you <3

amorcito Oh… my poor darling. Please rest my love. I’ll come to check on you. Love u more <3

I wake up from my nap to the sound of commotion outside. I orient myself to my surroundings and get up to see what’s going on. I gaze out of the window and see a crowd of people entering the palace. People come and go quite frequently, but this is much different. I recognize the man and woman in the middle of the guards almost instantaneously. Pressure builds in my chest and the unease grasps at my throat, its claws sinking into me until the sound, color and shapes around me distort. Kyungsoo comes into view in my peripheral vision, curious eyes fill with concern as he looks at me.

“Princess?” He manages to say.

“What are they doing here?” I ask, demanding an answer. The only problem is my words are barely audible, my hands shaking in front of me.

“King Daniel, Queen Maria and their military generals are here for peace talks. Azteco’s military is on the outskirts of the border and threatening an invasion. My father invited them in hopes of ending tensions.” Kyungsoo says carefully.

“Why didn’t… You tell me?”

“I was informed last minute, Alina. Forgive me, but I wanted you to have a good night’s sleep for once. You finally got comfortable and I didn’t want your to needlessly worry. He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him even get the chance.” Kyungsoo moves toward me, and I can’t exactly stay mad at him for this. It’s hard to stay mad at him. I allow him to hold me and I regulate my breath to match his. I have to get through this somehow, at least Kyungsoo is by my side now.

“What do I have to do?”

“Eat a meal with him and your sister. That’s it. I’m sorry.” Kyungsoo looks down but I push his chin up to look me in the eye.

“I have to do this. The only difference between now and then is that I have you here with me. I know you won’t let any thing happen to me.” I reassure Kyungsoo, while simultaneously assuring myself. “I can’t run from him for the rest of my life.”

“What a warm welcome, King Bonhwa!” King Daniel bellows. Maria is silent beside him, smiling occasionally. I shake at the sound of his voice, my hands trembling behind my back. Kyungsoo grabs for one and holds it in his, caressing the skin on the web of my hand.

“Please be seated, everyone.” King Bonhwa cheerfully calls. “Isn’t this lovely! A family reunion for the Crown Princess!”

I politely nod and sit up straight, looking straight at my sister. Maria deviates eye contact and Kyungsoo squeezes my hand.

“It’s okay, I’m right here.” He whispers. “I won’t let him do anything to you.”

“I am delighted to see my sister again. It’s lovely to see you as well, King Daniel.” I politely reply. Ever the perfect princess you are, Alina. It drives me crazy that Daniel’s stupid phrases echo in my head.

“Ever so lovely to see you, beautiful princess.” King Daniel smirks, there it is. Maria sighs and puts on her best smile. I toy with my food and Kyungsoo keeps his eyes focused on the boisterous king, watching all of his moves intently as he booms with laughter and obvious candor. “Crown Prince! I hear you are quite the master of the sword. How did that come about? Tutors? Your servants fearing you? Your military letting you win?”

Kyungsoo stares hauntingly at Daniel, a gaze I’d never seen until tonight. If looks could kill, King Daniel would be as good as dead. Perhaps that isn’t that bad of an outcome… But I know something like that is impossible. Kyungsoo takes a bite of his fish and leans back in his chair, smirking. “Have you heard of the Seoul proverb about the man and the sword?”

“Humor me, Crown Prince.” I tense at the sound of Daniel’s tone changing, my hands are pressed together under the table with my nails digging into the flesh of my palm. Queen Hyunae and King Bonhwa look in between the two men exchanging tense glares. Maria scowls at my husband, obviously angered that a mere prince would insult a king in such a way. Maria had a complex and it was very apparent she had a need to protect her husband. Her eyes move to me and we make eye contact, but it falters.

“The wielder of the sword is not a gifted man, but one of great skill and self-control. The fool stabs himself many times attempting to bargain with the fate of the sword.” Kyungsoo responds in Aztecan, smiling.

“My son showed great skill on his own, King Daniel.” King Bonhwa responds, praising his son in rare form. It wasn’t often Bonhwa would offer compliments to Kyungsoo, but when it came to the honor of the Crown he would practically bow at the feet of his son. People weren’t difficult to read, you just had to look at the obvious. “Just like his ancestors, our dynasty was established by the valiant efforts of Doh Swordsman. The legacy of our Kings is in the merit of a sword.”

“Is that so? Why, I challenge you to a friendly duel, Crown Prince Kyungsoo. The Azteco People are descendants of Great Warriors. Perhaps your pretty princess can come see what true swordsmanship is.” Daniel challenges.

“I accept your challenge, Your Highness.” Kyungsoo grins deviously.

“Wouldn’t you enjoy that, Crown Princess Alina?” King Daniel coos the last few words to me. Kyungsoo reaches for my hand and draws circles around my knuckles, bringing me back down to earth. I nod gracefully and Kyungsoo leans onto the table.

“Queen Maria, would it be rude to request that you control your husband? He will not listen to a mere Crown Prince it seems. My wife is not a woman to be spoken to in such a manner.” Kyungsoo warns lowly, not caring about the scowls on his parent's face. This is the first time I’ve seen my husband like this, but I don’t mind it; it’s a welcomed change. He doesn’t give a damn about the titles people possess; he demands respect that is rightfully his. My anxiety rises and I turn to Kyungsoo.

“Crown Prince.” I gaze at my husband with concerned eyes, gently squeezing his bicep. Kyungsoo covers my hand with his, apologizing with his gaze.

“Of course, Crown Prince. However, he may not even listen to his own wife, it’s not something an Azteco King would do.” Maria pettily replies, attempting to touch King Daniel in the same way I touched Kyungsoo. King Daniel slides Maria’s hands away as servants take away our plates. Now I can tell the difference between fake affection and real affection. There really is no love between Daniel and Maria, never has been and never will be.

“Please, Your Highness. It was… Lovely dining with you, however, King Bonhwa and I have matters to discuss with yourself and the His Highness, King Daniel. Please, meet us in our study chambers.”

It’s odd that an absent King and trophy queen are the ones handling peace talks. Kyungsoo’s hand grips mine a little tighter, I know he’s upset.  I know better than to intervene, so I softly squeeze his hand instead. Maria smirks and I look to Kyungsoo, a feral fixation on King Daniel takes his gaze. Maria glares at me, a hint of jealousy forming in her eyes as Kyungsoo makes it a point to wrap his arm around my waist, his thumb caressing my side softly. She watches as he turns to me, whispering softly in my ear. “Don’t let them sense your fear. You are strong, Princess. I’m so proud of you for making it through this dinner.”

I nod and show a quick smile before returning to listening to the conversation about swordsmanship.

I knew that Maria felt it wasn’t fair that I got betrothed to Kyungsoo. It was supposed to be her, but she wasn’t chosen by the Doh Dynasty. It wasn’t my fault, but she always made me feel like it was. Maria wouldn’t tell a soul that her marriage was arranged to make King Daniel look better. We all knew it but went along with the carefully curated story that it was a love match. Maria pressured our parents into it thinking she knew better about politics than a seasoned King and Queen.

When she got what she wanted, Maria lamented the day she married King Daniel. He was demanding, harsh and cruel.

Jealousy started to take root as I got older. Maria started saying she felt wronged by me and the Seoul Kingdom. She believed that I could have had anyone else I wanted. Though I would have preferred to have a love match, I’m happy with how things turned out. Maria rose and walked toward me, taking my hands.

“If you excuse us, your Highnesses, Crown Princess Alina and I have business to attend to. Send my apologies to King Bonhwa and Queen Hyunae for my tardiness, this is important.” Maria announces as she pulls me up and away to the guest chambers.

“Maria, what are you doing?” I ask, holding my sister’s hands. Maria breaks down into sobs, her knees folding underneath her. “Maria!”

“You, little sister, have made my life a living hell.” Maria grunts angrily. My eyes widen, I step forward and put a hand on Maria’s shoulder, but I get shaken off.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, like you don’t know! What did you do to Daniel?”

“Nothing! Are you accusing me the same way the tabloids have accused me of being an adulteress?”

Maria wipes her eyes and grabs my arms, squeezing as tight as she can. “No, but you couldn’t have just let him do what he needed to do? You couldn’t have said no to Crown Prince Kyungsoo? Believe it or not, you had the option to retract but you still chose to come here! Daniel has been collecting concubines instead of loving his wife. He’s obsessed with the thought of you, and it makes me sick! He told me how you’d allow him to visit you in the night. Why did you stop him? Why did you refuse him after a while? Now, he’s always upset and refuses me even more!”

“Maria!” I yell. “I never consented to those visits! I never wanted them! I am in love with Kyungsoo and now he can never have what King Daniel took! You wanted me to keep enduring the pain I felt every single night? How I would be disabled for days? Did he tell you about that part of the story? You wanted me to endure abuse for your benefit? What is wrong with you? What happened to you? I was a child!”

Silence forces its way between us, anger brooding in my soul. Maria’s breath staggers and her hands shake as I push her off of me. “It was you who chose to marry King Daniel knowing his accusations from around the world. He threatened me with my life if I ever told anyone what he did. You know the protocols! I had my voice taken from me and I will no longer be silent for your benefit or anyone else’s. It is obvious that he changed you. I am disgusted with you. I am ordering that you leave immediately. As soon as this visit is over, I never want to hear of your name or see you again.”

“Alina…”

“No! There’s no explanation! You’re sick in the head! You took sides with a monster. You reap the consequences. You are no longer my sister, but my enemy.” Haunted, I leave the guest chambers and hurry back to Kyungsoo but he’s nowhere to be found. He must be in the peace talks meeting, so I just take my leave and lock the doors to our chambers, feeling confident that the Lieutenants were probably close by.

I can’t sleep when I’m alone.

Kyungsoo and the military were pulled into an emergency strategy meeting, and I waited for him to come back for hours. A couple of hours ago, the Royal Guards were called away by Hyunae again, this is nothing new. Uneasiness and restlessness fills my chest as I get up and make the trek to the library to clear my head. As I enter the library, large hands grab my hips and shove me onto a wall. I yelp and look up to see Daniel, a dark gleam in his eye and a twisted grin forms on his face. I try to run away but he shoves me back onto the wall.  

"My pretty, pretty Princess." He sneers, his grip tighter on my body. 

"L-Let me go, Daniel." I shakily warn. 

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that, Alina. I saw your reaction to me as I spoke to you tonight at dinner. You can’t keep me off of your mind despite being married to another man, can you?" Daniel reaches for my face and I turn away. Daniel holds on to my waist tighter, his nails digging into my skin.

"Stop! Let me go, please!” Daniel grabs my face and squeezes it tightly in his grasp.

"Have you no sense, Alina? Can't you see that I am deeply attracted to you? You feel much better than Maria does. Your sweet essence still lingers on my lips." Daniel leans his body onto mine and I squirm to be free of him. I can feel his breath on my neck, it is nausea inducing. The flashes of him coming into my room unwarranted and how terrifying it was every time he got into my bed haunted me. I felt used, disgusting.

"Daniel, no. I never wanted you. I-I love Crown Prince Kyungsoo. He is my husband. You are nothing but a disgusting-"

Daniel strikes me to the ground and hastily picks me up by my arm, dragging me to the other side of the library and throws me to the floor. He rips the shirt I’m wearing and all of Kyungsoo’s love marks are on display. Anger and jealousy flashes in his eyes as he hovers over me. "Ah, what’s this? Hm? You let that other man mark what’s mine? I'll show you not to be disrespectful to me. When I’m finished with you, pretty girl, he’ll never want to touch you again. You’re the People’s Princess, won’t you obey a king when he asks you to complete a task?"

“Alina? Darling?” I hear my name being called. Kyungsoo! "Princess, are you here?"

“Kyungsoo!” I yell. Daniel slaps me and his ring gets caught in my flesh and his nails puncture my skin. He snatches his hand away and I scream from the pain of his ring being ripped from my cheek. The door opens and Daniel panics, dodging my husband through the back door as I lay frozen on the floor, sobbing.

“Oh my God, Alina!” Kyungsoo rushes to my side and brings me into his arms. I hold onto him tightly, shaking more than I ever have before. “Darling, I’m right here, you’re safe.”

“K-Kyung… Soo… I’m sorry…” I sob. Kyungsoo gently takes his fingers under my chin and guides my tear-filled eyes to look at him. His eyes water at the sight of the gash on my face and what I’m assuming is bruising on my skin. “I shouldn’t have… I was… I…”

"Did that bastard do this to you?" Kyungsoo grits through his teeth angrily. I whimper and Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, blowing it out before returning his gaze to me. I show him my face and he touches the marks gently. I shake and nod quietly. Kyungsoo carries me back to our chambers and brings me to the bathroom, fishing for a first aid kit under the sink. I sit in silence as Kyungsoo cleans my cut, I didn’t even wince at the pain. “Darling, tell me what happened.”

“I… I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid to be in our room alone, I know the lieutenants were in the meeting with you. The Royal guards were called away by Hyunae… As usual. I thought that I would have been safe going to our library for a moment. I know I shouldn’t have left our chambers. I just couldn’t sleep and thought I would be safe in the library. Earlier tonight when Maria took me to speak privately, she confirmed that she is being treated terribly in that marriage, and she blames me for it. She… Said I should’ve allowed King Daniel to continue what he was doing… She knew about it and just allowed it to happen. I was walking and King Daniel grabbed me. He said he was attracted to me… That I was an obedient… Little girl… His nails cut my skin and his ring got caught in my cheek. He hit me to the ground. If you didn’t come when you did… He would’ve….” I sob and cuddle myself into Kyungsoo, he picks me up off of the edge of the bathtub and takes me to our bed. Kyungsoo sets me down and pulls the covers up. He turns to stand at the edge of the bed but I frantically pull him back.

“Princess, I should’ve protected you better. From now on the Lieutenants will be with you at all times. It was my error to have them with me when they would’ve been better off with you. I’m so sorry…” Kyungsoo huffs, guilt written all over his face as his finger moves over my wound on my face.

“Don’t be sorry. Please. I should’ve stayed here.”

“You should be able to go wherever you please without anxiety. It’s taking everything inside me not to find him and strangle his pathetic life out of his body. But… I know you need me, that’s more important. The duel is tomorrow. I’ll be sure to show him he can never mess with my princess, my wife, my love… ever again.” Kyungsoo’s gentle lips meet mine, relief cascades over me as he holds me tight to his body.

I don’t want him to fight my battles for me anymore. After the duel tomorrow, I have to take things into my own hands.

KYUNGSOO

I didn't sleep at wink last night. I didn't mind, it was worth it. I relied on adrenaline as I readied myself for King Daniel and our “friendly" duel. I knew I couldn’t kill him, that would be too easy, and too obvious. Certain rage filled me as Alina told me what this bastard had done to her for so many years. Guilt filled me, knowing that she was harmed and I treated her unfairly in the process.

“Son, before you go out there, may I have a moment?” Father walks into the Armory, hands clasped behind his back.

“If you came to talk me out of this, I’m standing firm.” I warn.

“No, Son. This… Is fairly important. I know you will make a statement today to King Daniel. You have been leading our Kingdom in my… absence.”

“I wasn’t aware that absence had a double meaning of cowardice.” I shoot back, I don’t want to hear what he has to say. Not today.

“There are things you still have yet to understand, Crown Prince. One of them being that I can no longer serve as king. I was waiting patiently for you to marry Crown Princess Alina and at least have an heir on the way to say this, but it’s time that you ascend the throne.” Father boldly proclaims, hints of anxiety seep through his words. I stop sharpening my sword and look up at him. He is an older man now. A man that I hardly respected, but nevertheless was my father, my king. Father is now the age Grandfather was when he stepped away from the Kingship. The details become glaringly clear, now I’ll have the title for my endless work.

“What does this mean, Father? Are you ill?” I pry, my thoughts immediately going to Alina. “What does this mean for Alina?”

“Son, I am a miserable man. I only kept this all going for your sake. I will not bring shame to the Crown, but your mother and I have decided to live our days as separate people, away from rulership. As much as she may not personally approve of the Crown Princess, she admittedly agrees that Alina is a strong woman, who would make a strong Queen. This may come as a surprise, I am aware. But we have things we need to fix in ourselves that need to be done privately, away from this war that our entire world is drowning in.” Father explains. My head spins.

“You’re choosing to focus on yourself when your people need you? You pick right now to inform me that you’re handing the Crown to me? You should have done this months ago. You were always a damn coward. You’ll never be anything else.” I hiss, bowing my head. I mock my own politeness, gazing in irritation at Father. “It is of the highest honor to be a better king that history will remember for all the right reasons.”

“Kyungsoo, Son…”

“Leave. Grandfather must be rolling in his grave with how selfish you are. I’ll figure out a coronation as soon as possible, that will be none of your concern.” I finish, returning to sharpening my sword. My anger fuels me even more to assert my position with Daniel. I wasn’t expecting to be King this early into my marriage. I also wasn’t expecting Mother to be so okay with forfeiting her crown. There must be another man, there has to be. I don’t care anymore. They can revel in their own stupidity. My only focus right now is making a statement: no one can touch my darling Alina and get away with it.  

 I walk to the center of the Training Grounds. I search for her in the stands. When I see her, the world around me gets its color. Every single sign of bruising or cuts were covered with makeup. It killed me to see it, but it had to be done.  Lisette is next to her, Lieutenant Jongdae and Lieutenant Sehun are on either side of them. I’d ordered them to not leave her side while this duel happens. In front of them are Baekhyun, Yixing and Chanyeol, my princess is perfectly safe. Her gorgeous eyes dart between me and my idiotic opponent on the other end of the Grounds. Her hands are folded, she shivers in the cold spring morning air. I pace over to her, taking my scarf from my neck. I won’t be needing it anyway.

“You’re shivering, Princess.” I kneel in front of her and wrap the scarf around her neck, making sure to cover her as best as I can. Baekhyun scoffs at me, I stare at him in confusion.

“Oh, you can take his scarf but not mine, Princess?” He crosses his arms in mock hurt.

“I didn’t want your scarf, Duke Baekhyun.” Alina replies. “I have my husband to keep me warm.”

“Ahhh, so cute. So nauseating.” Lisette jokingly rolls her eyes. “Is it true that the King challenged Kyungsoo over dinner?”

“It’s true.” Alina nods. Chanyeol leans back, chuckling to himself.

“Oh, if he only knew what he did when he challenged our Crown Prince Kyungsoo.” Yixing adds with a confident smile. Alina unfortunately had only heard the borderline propaganda stories of my accolades and fighting style, it almost felt like it was part of the whole betrothal package. I shake my head at her and stand, leaving a kiss on her hand before I walk back to the center of the Grounds. I pace and center my thoughts on just beating this man to a pulp because killing him is not an option. I watch the pathetic King from a distance, studying him. He’s surrounded by guards, and this humors me.

“What an honor it is to play knight with the alleged Dark Horse of Seoul.” King Daniel taunts. I roll my eyes and watch Daniel as he approaches me confidently. The King smirks and points the swords edge at me. "You, my brother-in-law, will soon understand the valiant nature of the Azteco people today, no matter how much skill you may think you have."

I clash my sword with Daniel's to get it out of his face, annoyed. I refuse to start this respectfully, I don’t bow to him, and he doesn’t bow to me. That’s fine. I don’t need his respect. "It is my honor to prove otherwise, King Daniel."

We begin to circle each other; I grip the sword's handle and twirl it at my side. This is exactly what I wanted, it's what I need to do to get my point across. Anger boils in my chest and I spit on the ground near King Daniel’s feet. The Royal Guards disperse. I narrow my eyes at the King, mentally confirming my alibi if I decide to stab him in the heart. 

"You won the Valencian jackpot, didn't you? With that pretty little thing as your wife." Daniel smirks, speaking quickly in Aztecan. "You know, Crown Prince Kyungsoo, Little Crown Princess Alina had a crush on me for the longest time? It was cute, really. She'd dress up just for me and wear naughty things only my eyes would see-"

"Keep the Crown Princess’ name out of your disgusting mouth." I heatedly growl. "I know what you did, you disgusting piece of shit."

King Daniel chuckles and we begin to clash our swords, Daniel initiates the aggression. My defense allowed no room for error, each step I took had a purpose. "I haven't a clue what you speak of, Crown Prince. I can't understand you… Your Aztecan is embarrassingly terrible. She'd beg me for attention, what a needy, naughty girl."

That’s it.

I charge forward and launch an all-out assault against Daniel. The so-called man, a King of a Warrior Nation can barely wield a sword. Daniel swings his sword and I duck, kicking his ankle to knock him off balance. I growl angrily and hit my sword against Daniel's, struggling for dominance. My anger boils as I stare in the eyes of Alina’s abuser. I hear the whispers of how feral I look, unwilling to let Daniel get up. The murmurs of my eyes and how they turn black, how someone of my stature and status battles like a true soldier and not a baby-faced Crown Prince roll off of my shoulders. I don’t care. All that matters is my opponent begs for mercy and I won't stop until Daniel is either dead or heeds my warnings. 

"You naive boy, so naive. She probably hasn't spread those pretty legs for you the same way she did with me, huh?" 

I slice Daniel's arm in a fit of blind rage and jab Daniel's chest with the handle of my sword. I enjoy the sound of his screams, its payback.  My fist collides with his temple and face without let up until the King is on the ground, covered in blood. Daniel screams in pain and I flip the sword to point the edge to his pitiful throat. "Listen, King Daniel. Never will you go near my Alina again. If you dare to disobey me, you will wish you never crossed my path or laid a finger on my Princess. I will kill you with my bare hands and have absolutely no regrets. Understood?"

"Wh-What-What are you talking about?" Daniel nervously chuckles.

"I said is that understood you bastard?!" I glare into Daniel's eyes, all logic leaving my head. The thought enters my mind to end him now. The dukes whisper to each other as to what possessed me to react this way. If only they knew. Now, my reputation proceeds me and Daniel knows it. I press the blade onto Daniel's neck and the injured king shouts out, tears in his eyes.

"U-U-Uh-Understood."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't understand you." I hiss mockingly and presses the blade further, just enough to dent the skin. 

"I said I understood!" King Daniel screams. 

I pause and put my sword in its sheath and offer my hand to the King on the ground. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

Daniel uneasily takes my hand and I squeeze it, helping the beaten king to stand. "I meant what I said, not a word about Alina. You are not allowed near her or to even speak of her. Get it through your thick skull, if you don't it will be me holding your pathetic life in my hands and your nation's crown."

“Is that a threat?” Daniel musters.

“It is a promise.” I hiss.

“We’ll see who comes out of this a victor, Crown Prince. Not only were your pathetic father’s peace talks a sham, so are your empty promises. I’m not stopping until I get what I want.”

“We’ll see about that.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. I walk off of the Training Grounds and into my private changing room and ignore the calls to come back.

All except for one.

“Kyungsoo!” Alina’s eager voice caresses my ears and I turn, catching my princess in my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist and her smile weakens me. She takes my face in her hands and kisses me. She rests her forehead against mine, not caring how sweaty or dirty I was. “You truly are amazing, love. You are.”

I set Alina down and kiss her hand. “It was my honor, darling.”

“I couldn’t possibly begin to find a way to repay you, Amorcito…”

Alina looks deeply into my eyes and my, my… She can make my world stop with her gorgeous, earth toned eyes. She nods softly with happy tears falling down her cheeks. I kiss each one, gently spreading kisses across her face until our lips lock. I lean her onto the wall and hold her body close to mine, enjoying each second of our connection.

“Princess… You are everything to me. Everything. There is  no need to repay me. I did this because I love you, and you deserve justice. I don’t care what that pathetic excuse of a man does from here on out, I will find a way to defeat him. You are my motivation. You are my reason, my love.” I helplessly confess in between soft kisses.

“Kyungsoo…” Alina wavers with unease. “So, the rumors are true. I heard your father in the stands discussing it with your mother. You’re becoming King.”

“News spreads quickly…” I mutter.

“What does… That mean for me? Considering your mother…”

I smile and get on one knee in front of Alina, lowering my head and kissing her hands. I look up at her and hope my response will soothe her anxiety.

“My Queen…” I whisper. Her eyes widen and I kiss her hands again. “I wouldn’t ascend without you, darling.”

“This is all so fast, and I don’t know if I could be a good Queen and… and… Kyungsoo!” Alina shouts as I lift her over my shoulder and into the changing room, locking the door. My lips brush onto hers with ease, I press her against the door and just focus on her lips and holding her close. I briefly take myself away from our kiss, as much as I didn’t want to.

“Love… You’re going to be the best Queen history has ever seen. I’m honored that it’s you that will be ruling by my side. What happened today on these grounds is just the start of my plans. We’re going to win this war and have peace. For our kingdom. For us.” I say gently onto her lips. I have to ease her into this or she’s going to crumble.

“But… It’s dangerous to do a public coronation now…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it all. We have to do this because my father surmised it would be better that I am in this position. Mother is eagerly awaiting giving up the crown. I’ll make you the happiest Queen to have ever lived. I know this is all incredibly fast but anything can happen in a time like this.”

“I know… I know. love you, my King.” Alina whispers in a sultry tone.

“And I love you, my Queen.” I whisper back, connecting our mouths again, “nothing and no one will ever get to you again. We’re not playing by anyone else’s rules anymore. They’re ours now.”

Ours.

I love how that sounds.

[ask-everafteracademy]

Lucas and MMC Guilty as Sin? Analysis

When I first heard this track it immediately became one of my favorites on the album, the lyrics felt very forbidden love/star crossed lovers and so my brain made the connection back to EAA. I felt a lot of the lyrics could relate to Lucas’s route from his perspective, and the more I listened to the song, the more sure I was of it. Please enjoy my no doubt senseless yapping. I’ve decided to break the segments up into “themes” where I’ll include the lyrics and my thought.

Here’s the link to the song if anyone wants to give it a listen: https://youtu.be/OOYlWF6V8t8?si=R5QBsL-ANQ6F27Fd

Also shoutout @megatraven for hyping me up on this I’m sorry it took so long😭

CW: The lyrics being analyzed contain blatant sexual themes (idk if that’s a concern for this fandom but figured I’d include it)

The first section will be focused on Lucas’s duty to the crown

My boredom’s bone deep

This cage was once just fine

Lucas was born out of necessity, his father needed an heir. He was raised being told he would inherit a kingdom, and it never registered for him that he could be something else until MMC asks him what he would want to do with his life.

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves

Or the ocean rocks

Crashing into him tonight

When Lucas is with MMC, it’s the first time he’s allowed to consider a life outside of being king, to turn his back on it and live with the love of his life in the lighthouse by the sea (also insert obligatory wolf joke with Ezra)

Am I allowed to cry?

This line makes me think a lot about that one scene after the battle with the Warlock where MMC tells Lucas that crying doesn’t make him weak (I cried). He’s being unconditioned from his harmful upbringing through unconditional love and while it may scare him he trusts MMC enough to be vulnerable with him (I could write an essay on that scene alone but I digress)

He’s a paradox

I’m seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

He’s never felt such strong devotion towards someone and it makes him question everything he has learned

This leads me into the next section, a focus on his relationship with MMC in his first two seasons (the pining/situationship stages, if you will)

I keep these longings locked

In lowercase inside a vault

Someone told me

There’s no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

Lucas feels obligated to make his quest against the Warlock his priority and is guilty over his feelings for MMC, making excuses for himself to justify pushing his feelings aside

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me

We’ve already done it in my head

I swear I remember there being a line where Lucas admits to fantasizing about MMC (i wanna say season 3? I’ll have to check). Anyway, the notion of “fatal” fantasies is pertinent, they’re all consuming, his feelings for MMC are all consuming and “distracting”(😏) him from his quest

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

This line could go either way for them tbh, it feels like their mid season 2 situationship era, the knowing glances and stolen kisses while avoiding the question of what it means (Alexa play Casual by Chappell Roan /hj)

Of course, they’re able to work through these issues (yippee). But when passion and infatuation becomes love and devotion, they have a new warlock to face: their contradicting futures

If it’s make believe

Why does it feel like a vow

We’ll both uphold somehow?

Despite their destinies leaving them in separate realms, Lucas and MMC are determined to make their love and the time they have left together last (even if they feel less hopeful for their future)

What if the way you hold me

Is actually what’s holy?

Lucas is left wondering if being his father’s heir will satisfy him as much as his relationship with MMC does, making him question where his loyalties lie

If long suffering propriety

Is what they want from me

They don’t know how you’ve haunted me

So stunningly

I choose you and me

…Religiously

This is the scene in the rose garden (another scene I could write an essay on). Lucas’s realization that he never wanted the throne, finally making the choice to live with the love of his life in the lighthouse by the sea (good for him)

ANNNNDDDDD that’s what I got for you! I’m trying to be better at not letting stuff sit and collect dust, but I hope this was worth the wait! And even if it wasn’t, I hope it brought you some enjoyment. I would love to do more of these at some point (and hopefully with much less delay)

- Lightkeeper

[abromelon34105]

Snippet from Chapter 5 of my ADA!Chūya, featuring…RANPO!!!

The collar has been the only thing on my mind today. I did try it on, and was shocked to discover that it fit perfectly, just how I like it - a little tight to remind myself of its presence but not enough to restrict movement or breathing. I currently have it shoved into the box of other items of that nature and I hope I never have to think about it again. If he’s sent a collar, I’m worried about what else he could send.

Thankfully, Kunikida doesn’t bother me about how distracted I am today. Perhaps Fukuzawa talked to him and said I’m working through things or something. I don’t know. I’m just thankful. I don’t want to deal with Kunikida bothering the living shit out of me today.

I suppose it also helps that I’m accompanying Atsushi and Ranpo today. Usually, Ranpo only needs just one other detective with him, but it’s Atsushi’s first time with him. So I’m mainly here to help him learn how to navigate and deal with Ranpo’s moods and quirks.

As usual, Ranpo gets all turned around and stuck all over the train station. I have to drag both him and Atsushi to our correct train because they keep getting lost. I can tell Atsushi is shocked that Ranpo actually doesn’t know the first thing about the train station, but it’s really not a big deal once you get to know the man.

After a small nudge in the right direction and a quick run down of the landmarks, Ranpo heads off in the direction towards the murder scene. Atsushi blinks and looks at me, but I shrug and follow Ranpo, letting Atsushi follow behind me.

“You know you’re late, agents,” the police detective says with his arms crossed as he glares at the three of us. Atsushi ducks behind me and Ranpo for whatever reason, but Ranpo either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Now hold on, who are you?” Ranpo says with his hands on his hips as he faces the general direction of the officer. I can hear the hesitancy in his voice, and I know that the sudden change in officers has left him shaken. This one doesn’t know him and most likely won’t take him seriously. “Where’s Yasui-san?”

“I’m Minoura,” the detective says as he pulls out his badge from his coat’s inner pocket. “I took over from Yasui-san. This case has been reassigned to our division. So we no longer need you or your agency.”

Here we go, I think with an eye roll as Ranpo starts going off. “That’s ridiculous! Every difficult case should be overseen by a master detective, like me!”

“We don’t need private investigators on this,” Minoura said blankly. “Because the victim was a cop who worked for me.” Ranpo just faces Minoura with a slightly angry expression as Atsushi stays behind him, looking between him and me, as if asking if he’s supposed to do something in this situation. I shake my head a little, patting his shoulder.

“Prove it,” Ranpo says sternly and Minoura sighs before turning around and heading towards the covered body. He kneels down and removes the cover for the three of us to get a good look.

The front of the victim’s shirt is stained dark red, the stains in a pattern that shows three separate shots fired off. I glance over at Ranpo, who’s looking at the victim with an impassive face before sighing. “The victim’s a lady,” he says and Atsushi stiffens beside me. I place a hand on his arm, trying to signal him to calm down. There’s a reason for the statement.

“Yes, sir,” one of the on-duty officers says as he looks at Ranpo. “Her body was found floating in the river this morning.”

“She was shot three times in the chest,” Minoura says, kneeling beside the victim. “We don’t know where or when she was killed. We haven’t found the bullets either.”

“Any suspects?” Ranpo asks, fiddling with his hat. “Not yet. As far as anyone at the office knew, she wasn’t in a relationship, so we doubt it was a jealous lover.”

“Very interesting. So that means you don’t have any leads.” Ranpo sounds so smug as he puts his hat back on and Minoura narrows his eyes as he side eyes the short detective, starting to look more pissed off by the minute. He turns away and stands as he starts to speak. “That’s all the more reason why we can’t let an amateur private eye handle this.”

“Amateur?” I ask as I raise my eyebrow at Minoura. “Who said anything about us being amateurs?”

“Um, I-” Atsushi starts but I shush him and keep my attention on Minoura. He narrows his eyes at me, his expression just as cold. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve been doing this job for years. You aren’t properly trained on cases like these and I don’t need you messing anything up.”

“Properly trained?” I ask, my voice raising a little bit, even as I fight to control it. “Just because we didn’t go to police academies doesn’t mean that we can’t do it just as well, if not better than you and anyone else here! If you had just let Ranpo do his job, this case would be solved already!”

“There’s no way he would have solved it this quickly,” Minoura snaps back at me, stepping forward and getting in my face. Or…his chest in my face. I have to look up to actually make eye contact with him. “The only person who would be able to do that is the killer, so unless you mean to say that your friend here is the killer, I suggest you stop putting your foot where your mouth is!”

“I’m putting my foot where my mouth is?! You’re the one who’s assuming we’re amateurs! Ranpo’s been doing this job for over a decade at this point, so go and take your accusations somewhere else!”

“Wait, really?” Atsushi asks Ranpo beside me and he nods, making a quiet sound of agreement. “Yeah, twelve years now. Impressive, I know.”

“...How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I don’t look it, I know.”

“You don’t act like it either,” Atsushi mutters under his breath and I reach back and lightly smack his arm to get him to shut up. He frowns at me but gets the message anyway.

“We don’t need private eyes on this,” Minoura repeats as he takes a step back from me. “Everyone on my team is better than any private detective out there. Including you bums.”

“Oh!” Ranpo gets that smile that means he has an idea brewing and quickly turns around, pointing at the officer that had spoken up earlier about the victim herself. “Tell me officer, what’s your name?”

“Wh-What?!” he exclaims, clearly unsure of what exactly is happening. “I am Sergeant Sugimoto, sir! The victim, Miss Yamagiwa, was my superior officer on the force!”

“Alright, Sugimoto-san,” Ranpo says as he walks towards Sugimoto, placing his hand on the officer’s shoulder. “Here’s your chance. Solve this case in sixty seconds. Ready, set, go.” He says this all in a rush, with barely a breath between sentences. But not a crazed rush. Smooth, calculated. Ranpo scares me sometimes.

Sugimoto panics and takes a step back, but Ranpo leans forward, keeping the distance the same between them. “I can solve this thing in under a minute,” he whispers to Sugimoto before turning his head a little. “If you’re as good as he says you are, you should be able to do that too.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s turned to face Minoura as he says that. Minoura notices as well and just stares at Ranpo, his arms crossed for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, so Ranpo keeps going. “Okay, it’s showtime!” He turns back to Sugimoto. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Now Sugimoto is full-blown panicking, stammering and making absolutely no sense as he tries speaking. I can barely hear him say something about sixty seconds being impossible.

“Tick tock, fifty seconds left,” Ranpo says with a smug little smile as he holds a pocket watch. I don’t even question where he got it from anymore. The pockets of the autism creature are a magnificent thing. Sugimoto freaks out some more, and Ranpo is clearly taking too much joy in the entire situation. “I hope that’s not what I look like when I’m under too much pressure,” Atsushi mutters to himself and I snort, remembering how he panicked when we told him about the tiger.

“Hold on,” Sugimoto says after a bit, seeming to have calmed down enough to think and talk, “I know Yamagiawa-sama was pursuing a political corruption case and also running an investigation on the Port Mafia. The murderer’s MO is similar to the Mafia’s when they want retribution. Maybe the Mafia did it! Because they knew she was getting too close-”

“No,” I say quietly as I stare at the ground and everyone turns to me. “The Port Mafia’s retaliation methods are quite specific. They have a signature that’s as unique to them as a fingerprint.

“First, the traitor is forced to the ground and made to bite the curb. Then, they stomp on his head to shatter his jaw. Finally, they flip him over and shoot him in the chest. Three times.” I can still hear the gunshots from each of those many killings I myself had to carry out. They’re overlapping until they are essentially just one set of shots with countless victims. I know this is the fate that awaits me if anyone in the Mafia catches me in an “official” capacity. I’m lucky I managed to come face-to-face with Dazai and not have my head smashed in when I did.

“I guess if we’re being precise, then technically yes, but still,” Sugimoto says as he stares at me with a slightly confused look on his face. I continue before he can say much more. “So this MO was similar to the Mafia’s but not exactly the same. That means-”

“The killer was attempting a cover-up?” Minoura cuts in, and I let him have it. No use getting into an argument over something like that. I glance back at Sugimoto, and his confusion has changed into something else. “Shooting two extra rounds to make it look like a Mafia hit…How cruel…”

Ranpo suddenly makes a sound imitating a buzzer right behind Sugimoto, scaring the living daylights out of him. “Nice try, Sergeant,” he says as he pats Sugimoto’s shoulder. “But you’ve got a ways to go before your ‘case solving skills’ match mine~! But don’t feel bad, you’ve been useful! You’ve helped us prove that Minoura-san’s best detectives are inferior to me!”

“Cut the crap,” Minoura says as he glares at Ranpo, who is still smirking. “I’m tired of all your jabber. You can’t crack hard cases with just deduction. You’ve been reading too many crime novels. Cases like this are solved through investigation. Interviewing persons of interest, and closely analyzing the crime scene.”

“Huuuh?” Ranpo asks as he turns to Minoura, taking a few steps towards him. “You’ve got a pretty thick skull. Great detectives don’t do investigations. My ability, Ultra-Deduction, can instantly identify the killer. I can also figure out when and how the murder was committed. But wait, there’s more! I can see in my mind’s eye how to make the killer confess and where the evidence lies to prove our case! My power truly is a rare gift.” He turns to Minoura, and I can see that he’s opened his eyes by now. His gaze is locked on Minoura, who seems a little startled by Ranpo’s eyes. I understand that feeling. You get so used to his eyes being closed that when he does finally open them around you, it throws you off and it looks like he’s staring into your soul.

“Given my line of work, I know all about you gifted types and your powers. But if you have such a special ability, then why do my colleagues and I still have a job?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ranpo says with that smug smile of his and I can tell he’s closed his eyes again. “Now we’re starting to understand each other, detective~” Minoura growls under his breath as he glares at Ranpo, and I’m ready to rush in and defend him. Again. He really needs to stop getting into trouble with the police force. One of these days, he’s going to end up arrested and not even the President will be able to help him.

“You little bastard-” Shit. I quickly move to step in front of Ranpo, the poor innocent autistic not seeming to understand the gravity of the situation he just put himself in. “Now, now, detective,” I say as I hold my hands up to try and help Minoura calm down. “Please pardon the autistic creature’s behavior.”

“The heck does that mean?” Ranpo asks as he tugs at my vest. I wave him off, smirking a little to myself. “Don’t worry about it, Ranpo. Just focus on solving the case.”

Minoura sighs and shrugs. “You can’t stop bragging about your ability,” he says, “so let’s have a look at it.”

“Really?” Ranpo asks, getting excited as he turns to Minoura again. “So I guess I’m on the case. You should have just asked me nicely when I first got here.”

“Too bad you’ve got a lot more confidence than experience,” Minoura responds, smirking at Ranpo. “You realize there’s no hard evidence. Would you like me to count to sixty for ya?” He sounds so smug, so sure of himself, and it’s very refreshing to see Ranpo getting cocky back.

“I won’t need that long.”

[fatuismooches]

omg omg omg i’m brainrotting so hard abt arlecchino rn im so sorry if you’ve already been sent smtg similar but hear me out: childhood friends to lovers w the one and only knave <33

growing up w her in the house of the hearth, ur the only person she has a soft spot for <33 even when she began ascending the ranks of the fatui u know she’d always come back to you <33 i’m entering delulu land but im LICHERALLY going crazy over the idea that the reason arlie killed the previous knave was because they threatened you and she was not having that dgjskdjdjd im scratching clawing at the walls of my enclosure

BONUS: whenever u show up to fontaine’s hearth all the kids get very very excited bcos they’re going to be able to break SO many rules and arlie will mostly let it slide since she’s just so damn weak for you <33 all u hv to do is bat ur pretty lashes a little and she’s folding like a wet paper towel (“another story surely won’t hurt the children 🥺🥺 please?” “………fine”) one of the kids accidentally called you ‘mother’ once in front of her and her brain did a hard system reset for like 5 entire minutes LMFAO lyney is SO tempted to set up his idiot pining father with a special in-house magic show but lynette is a 100% sure arlecchino would straight up murder him if he tried (though she does agree with her brother in that father should just confess to you, because there’s no way you would ever say anything other than i love you too)

AHHMAKAONDW DW ANON I TOO AM BRAINROTTING HARD ABOUT ARLECCHINO AND I ADORE THIS HAHAHA CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS ONE OF MY FAV TROPES EVER 🤭 ooohhhh im words i cant describe rn…

Going to the House of Hearth and seeing shes always the quiet, solitary, speak to no one kid and your interest is piqued right away!! Yeah she ignores you for a while but you keep following after her so earnestly! On the missions, during playtime, during mealtime when she leaves to eat somewhere by herself but somehow you find her anyway… how can she not start to warm up to you? :( slowly but surely that cold mask of hers starts to melt just a tiny bit… you two are inseparable at that point, she refuses to work with anyone else <3 Arlie is… s-s-soft for you 🥺

AND UGHHHH her not forgetting about you even when she’s a higher-up, and a Harbinger 🤭 everyday, when she’s learning to adjust to her new duties, learning to deal with more incompetent people by the day… Arlie can just come back and rest her head on your shoulder and relax ❤️ (lmao regardless if it’s the former Knave or a random person they will be GONE hehe 😈😈)

AHHHH ANON THE BONUS IS MAKING ME GO CRAZYYY AJAIAIBDW I WOULD ADOPT THOSE BABIES IN A HEARTBEAT, THEY LITERALLY GET SO EXCITED BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS WHEN THEY HEAR THAT YOURE COMING!!! Help I would so be the parent who lets them break rules (within reason of course)!!! We can stay up past your bedtime!! Pillow fights and spooky stories and everything!! We can bake cookies together and playfully fight!! There are so much possibilities omg and Arlie is just like 🧍‍♀️yea there’s no way she would let this happen usually but,, sigh, the kids are literally beaming in happiness and crowding you and you’re laughing and smiling and looking so soft,, so fine, she’ll let it slide. But don’t expect her to join! (She’ll pop up around dinner time ❤️) (you *may* get her to join you for that one last story time, but it’s a very big *maybe*)

THE CHILDREN CALLING YOU MOTHER AHIAIVFW YESSS YESSS like bro you just give off motherly and parental energy to them, you are the parent they never had :( I always hc Arlie’s partner as being hella overprotective of their kids, like they are NOT getting hurt on your watch!! Making them separate meals if the regular food isn’t to their fancy, making sure their clothes don’t have holes in them, tucking them into bed and all :( Please the child would act as if they just said something normal and you’re just smiling really hard and blushing a lil bit and Arlecchino is just like 😐 outwardly but inside her heart is racing a bit ANISJAIAI. Like it just clicks for her that you’re really so wonderful… omfg she loves you so much.

And omg omg I would sooo love to be around baby Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, they deserve the whole WORLD… you would clap and be surprised when they come home and show you all the new tricks they learned… you’d be their willing member from the audience to join them!! And Freminet, he’s a shy baby so you would just read him stories and help him with the big words :( you’d help him find more mechanical stuff to play around with and fix! And although Arlie doesn’t like when kids cry… the kids love you because they can cry into your arms and you won’t tell a soul 🥺

HAHAHA LYNEY BEING HIS FATHER’S WINGMAN 😭😭 he would so do it but Lynette reminds him every time that his life would be FORFEIT if he ever tried doing such a thing! Lyney is still thinking about it though 🤔, even the younger kids have caught onto Father’s pining for you! Like bro… Arlie, it is so freaking obvious how much you two like each other just kiss already smh (the kids have bets on who will confess first 🤭)