#bouquet blue dragon

[noi-exe]

"If in beginning the gang knew she is Zola"

Im so normal about them

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Some big revelations coming on this one, buckle up. Daemon and Alicent are good parents in my book, okay? Okay. ;)

Word count: 4,6k

Masterlist | Previous chapter

The perfume of wildflowers overwhelmed your senses, they bloomed in several colors around you; white, pink, blue, yellow—a field of untouched beauty, tucked away on the outskirts of the forests that surrounded King's Landing.

You sat in the middle of the field, soaking up the late afternoon sunlight as you gently plucked a few of the flowers to form a unique bouquet. It was only your third day in the capital and you already felt the need to sneak away and breathe some fresh air.

A loud huff of air came from beside you then, and a chuckle escaped you when you looked at your dragon. She lay peacefully just a few feet away from you, her ash blue scales being caressed by flower petals as the wind made them flow; one, in particular, tickling her nose and making her huff without opening her eyes. Her massive frame dwarfed the trees of the forest behind you and her tail disrupted the few bugs hidden between the grass as it swished from time to time.

The small smile you had slowly vanished, however, once your mind drifted back to thoughts of Aemond, for the umpteenth time today. Your talk with him from last night replayed in your mind over and over, while you were trying to sleep and first thing in the morning. It had felt wrong and unfair, and it left a cold feeling inside your chest. And yet a feeling that you thought—hoped—you saw mirrored in Aemond's own expression last night.

It was a fragile thing, but maybe, just maybe, what you once had could still be repaired.

Even from this far away, the Red Keep could still be easily spotted in the distance. You watched as a flock of birds flew by, as nothing but dark silhouettes against the golden sunlight.

You eventually pushed yourself up from the grass, brushing away any remaining dirt from your clothes. You walked up to your dragon, laying a hand on the warm scales of her muzzle.

Her fiery blue eyes lazily blinked open at your touch, and she leaned the slightest bit into your hand. "Istiti kostilus bartos arlī, riña." ('We should probably head back, girl.')

A low and deep groan came from the back of her throat, her large mouth prying open just enough to reveal a glimpse of her sharp teeth in complaint. Yet she slowly raised her head from the ground, the motion of her tall and heavy frame sending hidden fireflies flying away from between the flowers.

"Nyke gīmigon, ziry iksos lyks kesīr, yn se jēda kessa aderī mazverdagon zōbrie. Kosti māzigon arlī hemtubis," you promised with a smile as you looked up at her, walking beside so you could mount up. ('I know, it's peaceful here, but the hour will soon grow late. We can return tomorrow.')

She lay her chest and left wing down to allow you to mount easily, only raising to full height once you were settled in the saddle. Her steps on the ground were almost booming in the quiet field, with a small roar coming from her as she awaited your command.

You gripped tightly onto the saddle, heart tuning in with the powerful beat of the one belonging to the dragon carrying you. With a grin, you spoke; "Sōvēs, Khamira."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Aemond's sword cut through the air, on unsteady feet he narrowly avoided Ser Criston's attack. His boots skid over the gravel of the training yard, panting heavily as he rolled his shoulders to keep up appearances and not attract a crowd of onlookers.

Sweat ran down Aemond's temple, getting caught on the leather of his eyepatch. Today was not a good day for him.

Cole seemed to catch on, dropping his shield to the ground and suggesting a break in their sparring session.

Aemond huffed, walking to the side to lay down his sword while he tugged at the collar of his vest that felt like it had been cutting his intake of air by half. His muscles ached from the exertion, yet as he let go of the hilt of his sword, his mind was already elsewhere. Trapped back in a moonlight haze that outlined the features of the one who'd taken residence in his mind and heart.

"You seem distracted today, my Prince," Cole spoke, slowly walking closer to Aemond as he caught his own breath. "Is something troubling you?"

A pair of young squires sparred to his left, two ladies and a guard stood together by his right, and Aegon made his way down the stairs that led to the grounds of the training yard—Aemond was acutely aware of every single person around him, and each one, he knew, was salivating for some royal gossip. He kept his back turned to Ser Criston, fidgeting slightly with the cuff of his sleeve; "No trouble. Simply not a good day for me, it seems."

"Oh, brother."

Both Aemond and Cole turned towards Aegon's obnoxious voice as he wandered towards them, both hands stretched before him as the first Prince gestured between his brother and Ser Criston, "Could this finally be the day that this poor man has bested you in combat?" He sported a wide and amused smile on his lips.

Aemond hummed, holding onto his composure. "We aren't finished yet."

"Well, by what I've just watched, the result seems pretty obvious," Aegon chuckled, leaning back against the weapon's table, "You were nearly getting your ass kicked."

"Watch your tongue," Aemond warned dryly, fists closed tight.

"Were you daydreaming about your childhood sweetheart, then?" Aegon ignored him, teasing further in a quieter tone, his smirk provocative. "Don't think I didn't notice you two eye-fucking each other at supper last night." He laughed at his own words.

Aemond clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. "I mean it, you drunk, mind your tongue." He leaned closer, only for his brother to hear; "Lest I pick up a sword and do it for you."

Aegon raised his hands in mock surrender, fighting a smile and losing. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, eh?" The older brother picked up a small dagger from the table, twirling it between his fingers, the sharp tip slightly digging into his skin. "And here I thought you would be overjoyed with the news."

A small, barely there frown made itself known in Aemond's features. He took half a step back, "What do you mean?" Coming from Aegon, it could hardly be anything good.

"Oh you know, brother," Aegon shrugged, hesitating only for a moment as he took a glance at Cole who stood behind Aemond with the same confused expression, "Mother's agreement with Daemon, the one... involving his dear eldest daughter."

Aemond's blood pumped faster at the mention of you, his breath stumbled and he grew more impatient, "What do you speak of?"

A beat of awkward silence passed as they held each other's gazes.

"Oh seven hells, you do not know yet," Aegon deadpanned, before a small, surprised giggle escaped him.

"Aegon..." The Prince's name out of Aemond's lips came as a warning and he narrowed his one good eye.

"Oh no, no." Aegon shook his head, dropping the dagger in his hands to take slow steps back to the same path he came from. "I'm sure mother will be the one wanting to break the news for you then, beats me wanting to be on the receiving end of her ire if I do it." He reached the stairs, one foot already on the first step when he looked at Aemond with one final grin; "But I'll say, you need not worry about your darling leaving your side ever again." Aegon winked and skipped up the stairs.

The feeling of being left in the dark was all-consuming as Aemond's eye skimmed over the training yard, the sound of steel against steel becoming muffled to his ears as he tried to find a sense of direction for his running thoughts.

He left Ser Criston without another word, quick steps taking him inside the Keep in search of his mother.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You flew over the cloudy sky with no hurry, your dragon's wings stretched and steady while she danced in between clouds. You'd taken the scenic route, as you liked to call it, the longer path to the dragonpit so you could linger a few minutes more on dragonback.

The flap of her wings was slow, yet not less powerful for it, her size creating shadows over the capital. Without you needing to say a word, your loyal dragon knew not to hurry today.

You kept on for a while longer, and just as you were close to reaching your destiny, you heard a familiar sharp screeching coming from behind you.

A roar came from your own dragon as she felt the presence before even seeing it. You turned your head around, looking over your shoulder. Caraxes' slithering frame suddenly emerged from between the clouds, his long and red body a stark contrast to the pale sky.

He flew beside and then overhead from you, and you could barely make out the grinning face of your father as he passed you.

"Aderī," you spoke the command and leaned forward on your saddle, holding tight. With a single movement of her wings, your dragon propelled herself forward, her lean body shooting through the skies as she caught up with Caraxes with an excited roar.

You came from under the Blood Wyrm, rising in flight just short of hitting them as a giggle went past your lips and heavy wind kissed your cheeks.

Khamira flew ahead, her ash-blue scales shining under the fading sunlight. You had yet to meet a dragon that could match her in speed. Caraxes' screeching could be heard from afar as he tried to keep up.

You were undeniably the first one to reach the dragonpit, your dragon raising dust as her large body landed on the ground. The keepers tried to approach her slowly to guide her inside the caves, but as instant as a wild lioness she was quick to greet them with a deafening roar and a show of her sharp teeth, taking a single haste step forward as a warning.

"It's alright," you called from above her, gesturing to the keepers, "I'll see her inside."

Khamira had been a temperamental wild beast ever since you claimed her; she disliked most people and had a tendency for ferocity if anyone dared to cross her boundaries, or worse yet, dared to threaten you. The dragoness bowed her head to you, and you only.

You jumped down from the saddle, feet hitting the ground as you bit back a smile. Your hand traced the warm scales along her neck as you walked, "Emi ȳdragotan nūmāzma bisa, ao jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon aōha vēdros, riña." You reached her face, caressing the shape of her muzzle while she cooed quietly at your words. ('We've spoken about this, you need to mind your temper, girl.')

Soon after, Caraxes also reached the ground, grumbling loudly as if annoyed for losing the race. "Sȳrkta biarves hembar jēda, rōva vala." You approached your father and the red dragon, watching as he climbed down from his saddle as well. ('Better luck next time, big guy.')

"Kesi iēdrosa pyghagon ao lanta." Daemon walked up to you, steps lazy as he pointed a finger at you with an amused smile. ('We will still beat you two.')

You laughed, meeting him in the middle of the otherwise empty grounds of the dragonpit. "Gaomagon ao jaelagon." ('Keep dreaming.')

A few feet away from you, Khamira and Caraxes met up as well, circling each other and exchanging low grunts, roars, and harmless bites. Two formidable beasts who had become friends over time.

You watched the two dragons with fondness for a beat, before turning your attention back to your father; who, you noticed, looked at you with a strange and unreadable gaze.

Daemon had both hands resting on the hilt of his sword, there was a small frown on his features, as if hesitating with the words he was about to say.

He sighed, glancing down. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh, we just went out for a flight." You explained easily, gesturing to your dragon, "I took her outside King's Landing for a few hours, you know how she gets if she's cooped up for too long."

Daemon chuckled, no stranger to the deep bond between you and the once-wild dragon. "Of course." Yet his small smile seemed strained, almost uncomfortable.

You frowned, shifting on your feet for a moment, "Is… something wrong, father?"

"We need to talk, about a rather urgent matter," Daemon spoke slowly, minding his words. And you don't think you've ever seen him this hesitant; this is not a conversation he's overly happy to be having.

You hesitated, his nervousness seeping into you. "Okay... what is it?"

What looked like a grimace passed over his features, as if searching for other ways to say what he needed to say. Eventually, he simply cleared his throat, "After last night's supper, Rhaenyra and I have talked." Daemon held your gaze for a beat, before quickly adding; "It was mainly her idea, so don't come for my neck." He tried jesting.

It did nothing to help the growing confusion inside your stomach, and you leaned your head to the side with a deeper frown on your brows.

"We all know our family has been drifting apart more and more as the years go by." He further explained, taking half a step closer to you so as to better hold your gaze, "And with the King solidifying Rhaenyra's claim to the throne, the greens won't be happy to… be left out. So we've decided, that it would be in everyone's best interest," His words seemed to get caught in his tongue, "To unite our families again, once and for all."

You kept quiet, yet distantly you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your fingers tingled and you grasped at your overcoat with a bruising grip. "And what… does this have to do with me?"

Daemon chose to ignore the question. "Rhaenyra has already spoken to Alicent and my brother, the King; and after some reasoning, both have, surprisingly, dare I say eagerly, agreed to it… as well."

You blinked once, twice, shaking your head; "Father, what in the seven hells are you on about?"

He breathed in deeply, holding the silence as he regarded you with something akin to sympathy. "We've decided to unite this family again, by offering a betrothal."

Your blood ran cold. You held onto the air in your lungs until he spoke again.

"Between you, and Alicent's second son, Aemond."

It felt as if your heart ceased its beating entirely. His words left you disarmed, and you were suddenly drowning in the waters of the Narrow Sea; sinking deeper, deeper, deeper into cold and dark waters that suffocated you from the inside out.

"What?" It fell as nothing but a breath past your lips.

Daemon could clearly see the sudden panic in your wide eyes, he reached both hands up, taking hold of your arms and rubbing his thumbs on the thick fabric of your overcoat. "I know it came suddenly, daughter. I… tried speaking against it, but believe me, even I know this is the right choice."

You tried finding your voice again, all choked up and tight; "I- No, I can't- Father, there must be something, anything else that can be done to repair this-" You stammered, "This rift between our families. Anything other than trading my life for it."

"I've been in your shoes before, I know how you feel, but it's not the end of the world-"

"Not the end-" You gulped back a sob, groaning in frustration, "How can you say that? It is to me. And then what? What would be expected of me? To bring gods know how many children to this world?"

Daemon huffed out a small laugh, avoiding your eyes, "No, worry not, we don't expect you to have children, you're not in direct line to the throne so there's no need for heirs. We only need a powerful alliance, a direct connection between both our families strong enough to keep our squabbles at bay, and that," He shook your shoulders, gaze intent, "You can provide."

Slowly, drop by drop, reality downed on you. The time had finally come for your betrothal, a day you had wished would never come at all. "You're asking me to be a means to an end," you whispered, "Why me?"

"I have… noticed how close you seem to be with The One-Eyed Prince," Daemon spoke with poorly concealed disdain, "We believe it would be in your best interest-"

Tears welled up in your eyes. Aemond. Of all people, his was the hand you'd be taking in marriage, being forced together for the sake of uniting your families.

How tragically ironic, for you to be promised to one another with broken bonds and stained hearts. Just as you had found each other again, just as you hoped to make up for all the lost years. Soon, the overly fragile bond you had only started to get the hang of again, will become public knowledge. It won’t be your secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

Aemond would resent you for it, surely. You knew he would, and you wouldn't blame him. Because right now, you feel something similar, angry and bitter, as it took away your choice of falling for him all over again on your own terms, in your own time. Instead, you were being forced into a closeness none of you were ready for.

Staggerly, your watery eyes rose up again, "It is in my best interest not to be married off against my own will, father." You pleaded, taking hold of Daemon's wrist from his hand on your shoulder, "Please."

"You are also closer to being Rhaenyra's child than Baela or Rhaena could ever be." Daemon continued his reasoning, "Besides, they are already betrothed, as is Alicent's firstborn. You and the second Prince will be the final piece, so to speak."

You shook your head weakly, "I love Rhaenyra but she's not my mother, not by blood, we both know it."

Daemon raised his brows, placating you. "You're not her blood but you are mine. And Rhaenyra took you as her ward, raised you as her own since she first met you. Our… differences with Queen Alicent lay heavier on her shoulders, as you know."

His words left you lost and uneasy. You bit into the inside of your cheek until nearly tasting blood, avoiding your father's stare. He made a good point, deep down you knew he did. Tensions were high between your family, and a strong union was necessary for a chance of peace. And heavens know Aemond is most dear to you, oh he is; but no girl wants her freedom taken away like this. "Please father, don't. Don't take away my choice on this." You tried one last time.

There was a beat of silence, and then Daemon's hands came to your cheeks, thumbs smoothing the skin of your cheekbones; just a little rough yet holding nothing but affection. "My first daughter, my zaldrītsos." He spoke low and soft, a voice he most used to you during the nights you were young and afraid of storms. "Ever since I took you from the hands of your drunk of a mother, what do I tell you? Do you remember?"

A sob climbed to your throat and you failed to bite it back. There were tears in your eyes one blink away from spilling. "That as long as you lived... I'd- I'd be alright."

A small, proud smile came to your father's features. He nodded once. "That's right. I would never do wrong by you, I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't our only playing card. Marriages are political agreements. It's a contract for a chance of peace between our families. Once it is done you can pursue happiness wherever you'd like."

And yet you didn't know how to tell him, that this political agreement might destroy your last hope of rebuilding what you once had with your now betrothed. You knew what would be expected of you and Aemond now, at every court and royal gathering you'd have to be side by side, it would be your duty to hold the appearances of a united Prince and Princess of the realm.

How will you do it? How will you hold his hand knowing it was neither yours nor his choice to do it?

How will you pretend to be in love, knowing nothing will be real, when deep down in your heart you wished it was?

"I wish it could be different," Daemon spoke again when you kept quiet, gaze miles away, "But a war is brewing." He dropped his hands from you, glancing up at the darkening sky. "And this union may help us avoid it, the one between our families, at least."

You closed your eyes and emptied your lungs. All your fight left your body, and a feeling of numbness settled in. You opened your eyes. "Does- does Aemond already know about this?"

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

There were two knocks on the doors that led to Queen Alicent's chambers, a moment later, the doors were pushed open.

"Prince Aemond, Your Grace." The guard stationed outside the doors announced. Aemond slowly walked in, and the doors were closed behind him again.

Alicent sat on the couch in the middle of her room, a cup of tea in hand as she looked out the open windows. Her attention shifted once the doors opened.

"Mother," Aemond called, halting his steps by the edge of the couch. His hair partially disheveled from the speed with which he traversed the long hallways of the Keep until reaching his mother's chambers, anxiety and apprehension spurring him on.

"Aemond," Alicent placed her cup of tea on the small table, getting up to take a few steps closer to her son, "I was just about to send for you."

Aemond gulped back, striving to keep his voice from sounding as nervous as he felt, "I've just met with Aegon in the training yard." He frowned, recalling the confusing words of his brother. "He speaks of… some news regarding me, I believe, that I do not yet know."

His words made Alicent groan, closing her eyes momentarily, "He must have overheard my conversation with Rhaenyra and her husband." She sighed, regarding Aemond with a look he couldn't decipher. "I am glad he held his tongue, I wished to tell you this myself."

Aemond took a step closer, his voice softening in the slightest. "What is it, mother? Did something happen?"

"No," Alicent spoke even softer, extending her hands and taking hold of Aemond's forearms who promptly held her the same. Her thumbs moved up and down on the fabric of his sleeves. "But, my son, your father and I have made a decision, one which I hope you can understand."

A frown then came to Aemond's features. He held onto his breath until his lungs ached, tightening the hold he had on his mother's arms; fearing the worst, even if he had no idea of what 'the worst' could be. And in the midst of it all, the headache came back. It always began with a heaviness in the back of his skull, but it would soon spread to his temples, forehead, and down the harsh scar.

Aemond blinked a few times, trying to chase the pain away even if he knew it was to no avail.

Alicent inhaled deeply, giving Aemond what looked to be a bittersweet smile. "Rhaenyra and Daemon have made an offer," she hesitated, "A betrothal between you… and Daemon's eldest daughter."

Many times in his life Aemond has felt lost, helpless, unable to move his body while his heart thundered inside his chest. Yet he wondered if any at all could compare to how he's feeling now.

The One-Eyed Prince tried to keep his face impassive, almost painfully so; but he knew his wide eye reflected his surprise, he knew his tight grip on his mother's arms reflected his desperation, he knew the wobbling of his lower lip reflected his fears.

You. He was to be betrothed. To you.

The one person he wished to have back for so many years. The one person who he has missed for so many years. The one person who he'd convinced himself that, for better or worse, did not care about him anymore. The pounding pain in his head grew stronger, following suit with his spiking emotions, and he gritted his teeth.

"My son," Alicent reached one hand up to Aemond's cheek when the helpless look in his eye tugged at her heart. "I believe it can be a good idea. Your father wishes for peace between our houses, between our families, and… perhaps we should honor his wish." She held a pause, minding her next words. "He's not doing well, your father, as you know. And Rhaenyra is to take the throne, maybe sooner than we thought."

Aemond took in her words one by one, trying to find his voice but with no luck. All he did was look at his mother. He knew, of course, that she was right. If anything he'd made tensions even higher between their family after what happened at supper last night, and part of him didn't want to bring more sorrow to his mother's life by going against this betrothal.

"With this marriage, our families would be united once again." Alicent squeezed Aemond's arms, willing him to understand, "I refused an offer such as this in the past… and I don't think I should make the same mistake now." She gulped down any pride, yet still raised her chin, "For the sake of our lives. Yours, your brother's. A union with the hope of peace during Rhaenyra's rule."

Aemond averted his eye, his hand still sore from holding his sword during the sparring session with Cole, his scarred eye socket stinging persistently. He dropped his arms to his side, flexing his fingers. "I am- I am to marry…" He hesitated on your name and closed his eye in frustration.

Alicent understood anyway, and her son's hesitation brought sympathy to her. Features softening, one of her hands rubbed Aemond's arm in an attempt to comfort him, "Yes. But I remember how the two of you used to be the best of friends, always together. I am sure your marriage will be a happy one, my son." She spoke with a note of empathy, gently; "It is a privilege, to marry someone you like."

Aemond exhaled shakily. Few and far in between as they were, the moments when he could lean into a mother's embrace were always cherished by the One-Eyed Prince. Yet there was a poorly concealed lump in his throat, a restlessness making his fingers tap his thigh.

Aemond refrained from telling his mother how he feared you didn't like him as you once used to anymore. He refrained from telling his mother how he would never wish for a woman like you to be stuck with a man like him.

With a tightness in his chest, deep down Aemond knew you deserved better. Better than he could ever be.

But alas, he opened his eye, looking down at the hopeful look on his mother's face even if his headache almost got her blending with the faded sunlight seeping through the windows.

Aemond managed a small, pained smile, and nodded.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[physics-of-one-piece]

Since I did what Doflamingo does/says in I'll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) (Rosinante x Reader x Doflamingo WIP) I bring the aforementioned brother from the title and a snippet (which is before he dies but I wrote it and nearly cried, so I thought it was worth a share) with him:

Some NSFW mentions in the bulletpoints but nothing descriptive:

Gets into a first bath in a month with Law and bathes him, trips on the floor getting out the bath

trips and falls in his own house in a hurry to get the medicine for Law's fever

most softest 10 foot lover in the One Piece World but he absolutely can rock your world

always careful with his big hands

never holds himself to intimidate while home

has fun coloured sweaters and fun shirts

your favourite outfit of his is his blue dress shirt and white pants, he looks so FINE in that 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 also his marine uniform without the coat 🫠

watches you fuss over Law and cries

he kneels down to hug you, and always loves getting his hair ruffled by you

peppers you with kisses when he comes home

removes make-up and makes Law scream thinking he's Doflamingo

"Did you think my actual name was Donquixote Corazon? Cutee~"

when asked by Law who you are, Rosinante blushes, smiles goofily and chuckles, saying "She's... my wife."

insulted by Law saying to you, "You deserve better."

dances with you in the kitchen

finishes his jobs for Doflamingo early so he can spend the rest of the days he is supposed to be away with you, which means this man sails to you as much as he can

spent two weeks with you and got you pregnant in that timeframe

always bring a bouquet and chocolates and souvenirs from islands he visited when he comes home to you

puts you in a Silent bubble so you can scream your anger/frustration away

his Silent is literally your therapy and when you tell him his Devil Fruit is your favourite Devil Fruit, he grins so bright, the sun wishes it could shine like that

you meet him when he crashes into you

How many guys can say their clumsiness got them a wife? Not many. Exactly, Rosinante is built different.

cries every time you make him pancakes for breakfast

actually a solid cook, but he needs to be watched, always have water nearby

You call him Rosi or Rosinante

He blushes when you call him Corazón or Cora-san. Once roleplayed as his "pirate" persona, and he managed for five minutes before breaking character and you laughed for a good ten minutes

you can get as loud as you want in the bedroom within his Silent bubble 😉

you love his red hat

he can bake cookies and they're sent from heaven

has his own marine squad since he's a Commander and his crew is awesome (original characters but I like them, you'll see)

kills a Celestial Dragon that tries to kidnap you and makes it look like an assassination by pirates - Sengoku is on board with it

humble and sweet wedding day, Rosinante cried the whole time

loves cuddles & loves your cooking

cried of joy when getting a lunch box for his journey with Law from you

takes the secret he has a wife to his grave, never mentioned you to Doflamingo, never let Doflamingo find out about you (considering the chapters with Doflamingo that come, very clear why)

died not knowing you were pregnant, as even you didn't know it at the time (I'm so sorry 😭)

And here is the snippet:

Your face flashed in his mind.

Sorry, mi amor. thought Rosinante.

The red lenses that have by now become his brother’s eyes stared down at Rosinante coldly, red stained glass reflecting the falling snowflakes.

Guess I’m not coming back home this time.

Rosinante was going to make sure Law gets away. He could get himself to Eudai by paying a fisherman to get him there. He’d be safe there, and with any luck, he could then decide what he wanted to do with his life. He knew you wouldn’t ask Law to stay with you if Law didn’t want to. You were good at reading the kid like that.

Law was a smart cookie. He’d probably activate his Devil Fruit powers in an hour from now on and heal himself within a minute. Rosinante knew it. He believed in it.

Rosinante isn’t worried about anything, he isn’t afraid. He is grateful. He is so grateful to be here, in this moment, on the side he considers right.

Not on the marines’ side. Not on the pirates’ side.

On Law’s side. He was Law’s Corazón now, not Doflamingo’s.

You said such to him yourself. Law saw Rosinante as his guide, Law trusted him, had faith in him, just like you did. Law had become a part of Rosinante’s family, your small family Rosinante was the patriarch of, the protector of. Rosinante wasn’t fighting for the marines now, or for the pirates. He was fighting for a sick little boy because nobody else would, nobody else wanted to, nobody else thought to, except him and you.

You had guided him and supported him to become the man he is today, catching him by the hand before he could trip and fall the same way his brother did. 

He remembered the first time you tried to teach him how to dance with him, and he ended up stepping on both your feet. 

“I’m so sorry! Please give me another chance.”

You told him, “Just enjoy the dance.” before pulling him into your first dance together, and he did as you asked, letting his legs follow the beat and the song, and it turned out okay. He never stepped on your feet again.

Six months later, he was dancing with you every day in the living room of the house the two of you called home, pulling you into a dance on the field of blue forget-me-nots, your sweet, soft laughter caressing his ears.

Because of you, Rosinante knew he’d never lose his way. Because if he did, you’d set him straight, grip his hand so he doesn’t fall apart. 

You were the flag Rosinante carried in his heart.

He felt so lucky to have you. He was the clumsiest, luckiest man on the planet. He never thought his clumsiness would bring him to you.

Rosinante was happy. Donquixote Rosinante was the happiest man on earth. He didn’t need any treasure, or an army, or a country, or immortality, or the world. None of those things could ever make him happy as living with you and Law did.

And Rosinante realised it then; it was that Doflamingo lacked. He had a family, but he also didn’t. For a moment, Rosinante pitied his brother, even though his brother had done it to himself. To live without experiencing pure happiness, genuine happiness, without hurting anyone to attain it… 

It must hurt, Doffy. thought Rosinante sadly. You must be lonely.

Rosinante looks at his older brother, and for the last time, there is a pang of pain in his heart at the sight of what his older brother has become. 

Rosinante pulled out the pistol, aiming it at his big brother — at Doffy, at Doffy — pulling back the safety pin, knowing very well he wouldn’t press the trigger, and knowing very well his brother would.

Rosinante really wished he’d gotten to dance with you one more time. 

***

Word Count Report:

Currently, Rosinante's part (Part 1) is 8.4k words, Doflamingo's Part 2 is 13k words so that one might get separated into 2 parts to keep it a normal word count. Part 3 (also Doflamingo) is the shortest at 4k words but there is a lot left to write and plan for that part.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[blues824]

I Love You, Malleus... But You're Not Mine...

Word Count: 9862 Female Reader Genre: Angst

The dragon fae was torn.

He knew that he would have to be wed to someone soon in order to inherit the crown. 

Also… his grandmother was nagging him to marry someone because she was growing older and she wanted to see her only grandson be married.

The only issue was that no one in Briar Valley really managed to capture his eye nor his heart. They all wanted to be married to him either for his money or power, or to escape their families. 

Actually, some of them did not wish to be married to him and were in love with someone else entirely, and he granted them liberty to marry who they wished.

Malleus was torn. 

So, he went to do what he always did whenever he was torn.

He walked over the bridge and through the woods.

In the woods, he would talk to himself and to the trees and animals. The wintertime meant that there was also snow and ice upon the ground. When that happened, the moonlight would reflect off of the glittery surface of the snow. It offered peace to Malleus to see the view.

Well, now was a better time than any to practice his vows.

He took out the ring that he had in his coat pocket, turning it over and over with his fingers, contemplating.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.”

He lifted his hand, palm up, as though he were actually marrying someone beside him. He stepped forward three times as he said the line.

“Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

There was no real cup, so he just summoned a chalice with his magic and a bottle of wine. He was above the age limit for consuming alcohol in public, so it was alright. He poured the aged liquid into the cup, and then took a sip from the cup. Of course, his bride would then also sip from the cup right after. However, there is no bride as of right then.

“With this candle, I will light your way in darkness”.

He took a twig from a nearby tree and acted as though it were a candle. In the specific spot he was in, there was a tree stump that acted as the podium at an altar. On it was a small piece of bark that he used as the ‘flame’ with which he was to light the candle. 

Then, he set the twig down.

“With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”

In retrospect, the prince was asking himself why he didn’t ponder the curiously skeletal shape of the branch he placed the ring upon. However, it didn't matter, as the wind started whirling around him. Leaves started making a small-scale tornado around the branch on which he placed the ring… until a woman stood in the center.

She was as radiant as she was dead.

Her skin, or rather, where it existed upon her body, was smooth. One of her hands had no skin on it at all and was all bone. In the bodice of her wedding dress, he could see her ribcage. She was wearing a veil over her head, attached to a crown of flowers arranged in a multitude of different shades of blue. Peaking out of the tulip-cut skirt of her wedding dress was her skeletal leg. She was wearing white heels. In her hands, she held a bouquet of blue flowers, similar to her crown.

Understandably, Malleus was entranced but kind of frightened by the corpse he was seeing before him. His flight or fight response had not kicked in yet, not until he heard her whisper two words:

“I do.”

She then reached out towards him and started walking to him. The dragon prince, who had gone even paler than he already was, stayed still.

As she got closer and closer, he saw how the moonlight enhanced your figures, and he felt his heart beating faster. The woman leaned in, to the point where her nose was grazing against his.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~

It took him a while to wake back up, and when he did he was in for it.

“Oh, look! He must have fainted. Are you alright?,” he heard the woman ask as he started to open his eyes.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a breather!” A skeleton man said.

“He’s still soft!” A skeleton boy exclaimed while jabbing at the prince’s torso with a stick. Malleus backed up into the bar, unsettled by what was going on around him.

Two skeletons dressed as soldiers clinked their beer steins toasting to the “newlyweds”.

“Newlyweds?” Malleus was quite confused as to what they were talking about. He stood up, trying to take in his surroundings.

“In the woods, you said your vows so perfectly,” she had a dream-like tone in your voice as she showed him the ring he had placed on your bony hand.

“I did, didn’t I?” Further leaning against the bar, he rubs his temples as though he were trying to remember something. Then he heard little legs crawling on the bar itself. 

He turned to see a walking head along with a few cockroaches. His eyes widened in silence as he backed away from the bar.

“Hello, my name is Paul! I am the head waiter, hehehe,”... the head was speaking. “I will be creating your wedding feast!”

All of a sudden, Malleus felt something hit the shoulder she was standing next to. When he turned to see what it was, a maggot was peeking out of her eye…’s socket. Her eye was, in fact, now on the floor.

“Wedding feast?! I am salivating,” the maggot said.

She gasped as she covered your eye socket, clearly embarrassed that it happened. She tried laughing it off, but it was a bit too late.

Now, to be fair, he recognized that he must be in a land of the dead. After all, there were skeletons all around, and his supposed bride was a decaying corpse. However, that did not leave him at peace. He was actually more disturbed when he came to that realization.

He squeezed out from between her and another skeleton and started creeping back in the other direction. He eventually reached the soldier skeletons, and that’s when he saw that one of them was impaled with a sword. He unsheathed it and turned on everyone.

“I need some answers before we proceed with anything. What’s going on here? Where am I? Who are you?”

She stepped forward and started fidgeting with her hands before saying, “It’s kind of a long story.”

“What a story it is…” a voice from the shadows on the stage emerged. “A tale of romance, passion, and a murder most foul.”

“This is gonna be good.” The skeleton who was formerly impaled by the sword Malleus was holding right now spoke, gently taking back the sword.

“Hit it, boys.”

~~~~~~~~

One catchy but macabre musical number later, Malleus understands where he is. A few of the people down here were people he recognized. Old fae folks and humans alike rejoiced with each other, and it was beautiful to see. There was no judgment between the two species, which means a lot of them died prior to the war.

Well, they were dead. There would be no point in harboring resentment towards each other if you’re stuck with each other forever anyway.

Anyways, her story made him angry. How dare that man turn her down?! She was beautiful and kind, and all she wished for was to be a bride. Even though it had only been a day, Malleus found himself drawn to her. In fact, right at this moment, they were walking arm-in-arm to the cliff to gaze over the town.

The sight was beautiful. The moonlight made its appearance again, and the dragon prince breathed in the night air.

“Isn’t it beautiful? It takes my breath away…” The woman let go of his arm and twirled, her veil trailing after her.

“...Well, it would if I had any,” She giggled before sitting down on a bench, patting the seat next to her. He, with gentle steps, made his way and sat down next to her. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to have your name. After all, I do believe a groom should have the name of his bride,” Malleus stated after a moment of silence.

Well, that’s a great way to start a marriage.

“Shh… Shut up!” The woman hit her temples before smiling at him. “It’s Y/N.”

“My name is Malleus Draconia, prince and crowned heir of the Briar Valley.” Her eyes widened in shock at his response.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I have something for you!” She pulled out a box and placed it in his lap with care, taking the required measures so as to not startle him. Not to worry, as he was quite excited about receiving a gift from his… wife? She then whispered something, “It’s a wedding present”.

He lifted the neatly wrapped box up to his ear and shook it gently, seemingly trying to find out what could be inside. The corpse beside him let out a small gasp of shock before recovering with a smile.

Once he unwrapped the bow and opened the box, he saw a bunch of bones… including a skull. Malleus immediately recognized it to be a stray dog that he found in his youth. Growing up isolated meant that he hadn’t many friends, so when a dog made its way to him in the forest, who was he to turn it down?

The lid clasped itself back onto the box out of nowhere and started rumbling in the prince’s lap before falling to the ground. Then it went still before the lid burst open and out jumped a skeletal dog, barking and everything.

“Samson?” Malleus asked, wondering if the dog could hear him. The cadaverous canine jumped into his friend’s lap, excited to be reunited. “Samson! My dog, Samson!”

“I knew you’d be happy to see him.” The woman beside him exclaimed. The prince had nearly forgotten about her presence.

“Who’s my good boy? Sit. Sit, Samson, sit!” At his owner’s command, the dog sat down. 

“Good boy, Samson. Roll over. Roll over!!!” Now, the way that the dog did it was quite unusual. His head remained upright as the rest of the body rolled over.

“Play dead.” The dog let out a whine when Malleus realized his mistake. Both recovered, and Samson jumped into his wife’s lap instead.

“Awww, what a cutie!” She exclaimed.

After a few seconds of quiet between the newlyweds, save for Samson’s panting, Malleus spoke.

“My grandmother did not approve of me keeping a stray. Nor did Lilia,” Malleus trailed off, remembering from his childhood that he hadn’t any friends apart from the staff who were forced to play with him.

“Would she have approved of me?” His bride asked.

“I would very much like to think so, but I wouldn’t know… What if we were to go meet her?” He proposed.

“That sounds wonderful! Where is she buried?” She asked with enthusiasm and excitement in her tone. It pained him to be the bearer of bad news.

“I am afraid that they are still with life, my dearest,” He lowered his head, a bit embarrassed and thus focusing on Samson.

“Hmm… that is a problem…” The corpse bride brought her hand to her chin in thought, wondering how they could get to the Land of the Living.

Then, Samson started barking at you. 

“No, we couldn’t possibly,” Luckily, Malleus was well-versed when it came to speaking with animals, but he did not know who ‘Elder Gutknecht’ was.

“Well, if you put it like that…” She was responding to the dog, as though she was having a full conversation with him.

“Who is ‘Elder Gutknecht’?”

“He is the person everyone goes to when they have matters concerning the living realm. Now come, dear husband,” the woman held her hand out, and the prince took it, and the pair made their way to the Elder’s room.

~~~~~~~~

“Elder Gutknecht? Are you there?”

If I’m being honest, Malleus has no idea who you both are looking for. Samson is trailing behind the two of you, the three of you moving with grace up the stairs. One thing he noticed was that there were books and candles everywhere. He made sure that he didn’t trip over anything nor make anything fall.

“Is anyone home? Hello?”

Unfortunately, Samson did not take those same precautions and made a pile of books fall over, startling what seemed to be a full murder of crows. The lantern that lit up the place started swaying from the force of wind from the birds’ wings. Then, a hand reached up to steady the lantern.

An old skeleton, coughing, a whisper of a beard on his chin, and half of the top of his skull lifting, made his appearance.

“There you are!” Y/N exclaimed.

Placing his glasses on, the presumed Elder Gutknecht spoke, “Huh? Oh, my dear. There you are.”

“I’ve brought my husband, Prince Malleus Draconia.”

“What’s that? Husband?” The Elder scratched his skull, making the lifting plate lift even more.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Malleus called out, not sure if the skeleton could hear him.

“I believe the pleasure would be mine, Your Highness. After all, it’s not everyday that you find yourself in the presence of living royalty… especially if you’re dead.”

“Anyways,” Y/N butted in, “We need to go up. Upstairs? To visit the Land of the Living.”

“Land of the Living? Oh, my dear,” The skeleton had a disappointed tone in his voice as he started making his way down the stairs that led up to his podium.

“Please, Elder Gutknecht.” The woman clasped her decaying hands together in hope.

“Now, why go up there, when people are dying to get down here?” The elder responded.

“Sir, I beg you to help. It would mean so much to my wife and I.’ A small gasp of shock made its way out of Y/N’s mouth. For so long… she wanted to hear herself be called a wife.

“I don’t know… It’s just not natural.”

“Please, Elder Gutknecht. Surely there must be something you can do?” Y/N took the old man’s hand in hers and looked into his eyes, pleading.

“Hmm… Let me see what I can do.” Elder Gutknecht patted the back of her hand. “Now, where did I put that book?” He then started looking everywhere; in the cabinet, in the drawer, and he started going through his piles and piles of books. That was, until he checked the bookshelf and found the book he was looking for. “There it is.”

On the way back up to his podium, he grabbed three bottles of things akin to potions as well as a chalice, as per Malleus’s guess. A crow was perched up there already, waiting for his master’s commands.

Elder Gutknecht started flipping through the pages of the book, muttering to himself, before he stopped at a certain page.

“I have it.” Y/N let out a gasp of excitement. “A haunting spell of sorts. Just the thing for these quick trips…”

Leaning to the side closer to her husband, Y/N whispered, “So glad you thought of this.”

“Me too, darling.”

The old man took two of the bottles and poured some of the liquid contents into the chalice before taking some ashes out of what the newly married couple realized was an urn and adding them into the concoction. Then, a feather from the crow was added in, and it dissolved immediately. A little cloud of red smoke popped out of the cup, making the skeletal man cough. He took the chalice in his hand, and it looked like he was going to splash it on the two below before he drank all of it.

“Now, then…” He let out a belch. “Where were we?”

“The haunting spell?”

“Ahhh…” He grasped the crow on his podium by the neck and squeezed its stomach, making an egg pop out. Malleus and Samson flinched while Y/N didn’t seem phased.

“Ah, here we have it. Ready? Just remember: When you want to come back, say ‘hopscotch’.”

Y/N giggled at the childishness of the word, asking, “Hopscotch?” with an amused tone.

“That’s it.” He cracked the egg on the podium, and out of the egg came a gas of some sort.

All of a sudden, the married couple found themselves under the moonlight once again.

~~~~~~~~

Back at the palace, everyone was worried. Some of the servants have been fainting from panic…

The prince had vanished.

Queen Maleficia is very close to sending out the entire military that Briar Valley has to go looking for her grandson. General Lilia is separating the soldiers into groups, and assigning those groups to different parts of the Valley. Sir Sebek and Sir Silver are paired together as leaders of two of those groups, going to make their way into the forest section.

It was very unlike Malleus to just vanish without a trace, so everyone figured that he was taken. It also must be someone stronger than him, as you wouldn’t be able to capture the 5th most powerful mage if you didn’t have magic.

The villagers have also joined the search efforts, but there were folktales spreading about the danse macabre. It was All Hallow’s Eve, and a tale passed down for generations was that Death would come up with the dead and dance. Maybe their prince had joined them?

That was what caused the frenzy to begin with. Everyone knew about that tale, and if Malleus had joined the celebration of the dead, then he wouldn’t be seen until the following year.

Lilia gave the order, and Sebek’s squad and Silver’s squad made their way over the bridge and into the woods to go find the dragon prince.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N took in the glow of the moonlight, tears coming to her eyes as she stared at the moon itself for a few moments.

“I spent so long in the darkness, I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”

At that moment, a butterfly flew past her face, causing her to giggle at its purity and innocence. Malleus also had a grin as he followed the butterfly with his eyes. However, that is when he realized that the butterfly was just as blue as the flowers upon her crown.

Y/N inhaled deeply, before stepping forward and twirling about in the snow. The trail of her mother’s wedding dress as well as her veil almost floated so delicately and gracefully behind her.

“My lady, might you give me this first dance as my wife?” She stopped when she heard Malleus ask, and a tear fell down her cheek as she nodded. He held out his hand to her and she accepted it, being pulled into his chest.

The two of them would have to thank their dance instructors, Y/N from when she was alive, and Malleus from when he was a boy. Sure, the steps they were doing were rehearsed, but the connection that the two felt was real.

Suddenly, Y/N’s skeletal leg snapped, making her fall. Luckily, the bones were only disconnected at the joint, so she easily snapped it back into place.

“Are you alright?” The dragon prince was understandably alarmed, as his magic could do no good upon a dead person. After all, magic is alive itself.

“I am quite so. It happens quite often,” she giggled, a bit embarrassed. Malleus smiled before they continued their waltz in the snow for a few more moments. Then, they walked hand-in-hand over to where Malleus knew would be the road back.

That is when Malleus had an idea.

“What if you were to stay here and I could bring my grandmother to you? I believe everyone would erupt in a ruckus if they saw me walking with a mystery human woman.”

“Ah, that’s right. I was here before the conflict. That should be fine. I will wait right here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And so, with that being said, he set off into the forest, alone, on the path he had traversed many times before, to go bring his grandmother to meet his new wife.

~~~~~~~~

About 20 minutes into the journey, Malleus heard something close by.

“THE PRINCE IS HERE! WE FOUND HIM!” 

The said prince’s neck snapped toward the direction he heard the voice come from. He recognizes the lady’s voice. She was one of the people that his grandmother had set him up with for marriage, and she was one of the ladies who wanted him for his status.

He heard marching, and he saw his former retainers: Silver and Sebek. In seconds, he was face-to-face with them, the lady mentioned before clinging to his arm.

“Your highness, we have been searching for you for hours! Where have you been?” Silver asked, making sure that the surrounding forest was clear and that the lady was in no danger.

Sebek didn’t say anything. He was moved to tears upon the recovery of the prince, his personal hero, who he revered and worshiped.

“I was strolling through the woods, and I got lost.”

“Sire, with all due respect, I didn’t think it was possible you could get lost,” Silver found the prince’s response to be a bit suspicious, but didn’t think to question him further. After all, he had orders from Queen Maleficia herself to bring her grandson back.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Prince Malleus, we must be taking our leave now,” Sebek bowed down as he stated. He then told Silver that he could take him back while he escorted the lady back to her own manor.

However, as Silver began to lead the way, he noticed that he was not being followed. He looked back and saw that Malleus was looking in the direction from where he came. 

Perhaps he did dance with the macabre.

“Your highness?”

Malleus snapped out of his trance before going to follow the knight. This might be an easier way to speak with his grandmother, so he followed Silver. 

~~~~~~~~

This is the voice of your conscience… Listen to what I say:

I have a bad feeling about him. You know he is no…

An all too familiar voice made itself known to you, and you rolled your eyes. You reached up to your ear and hit the side of your head, making Maggot shoot out into the cold snow.

“Go chew someone else’s ear for a while. Malleus has gone to get his grandmother, just like he said,'' To say that you were annoyed would be a tiny bit of an understatement. However, you couldn’t help the feeling of loneliness once again drape an arm about your shoulder. You missed your husband already.

“If I hadn’t just been sitting in it, I would say that you had lost your mind!” 

“I’m sure he has a perfectly good reason… for taking so long.” You crossed your arms in your lap, letting the doubt get into your decaying mind. Maybe Maggot was right.

“Oh, I am sure that he does. Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Alright, I will.” With that, you stood up, and began to follow your husband’s footsteps, picking Maggot up as you went.

~~~~~~~~

Malleus should have expected this. 

His grandmother, Queen Maleficia, had overreacted upon being reunited with her grandson, and locked him away in his room, placing a magical barrier to prevent him from leaving. Not only that, but he had learned that if someone were to find him first, more specifically, the women that the Queen had lined up as his suitresses, they would get his hand in marriage.

One small issue with that: he was a taken man now, and he had no plans in betraying his wife. She was beautiful, a free-spirited person to boot. She knew music and understood the beauty of both human and fae-kind. He was starting to miss her, and while he tried to tell his grandmother, she was not hearing it.

“Oh, Malleus, darling~”

And there was that insufferable voice.

Lady Aerwynn, the lady who had ‘found’ him in the forest originally, was the one set to marry him. She came from a long line of fae nobility, a green flag in his grandmother’s eyes.

To be quite frank, Malleus found her insufferable. She was only looking to gain power and influence, not his love. That’s where he loved his undead bride. She loved him before she even knew his name or title.

“Yes, Lady Aerwynn?”

“Well, soon I am going to be Princess Draconia. But anyways, I was wondering which shade of white would look best with your suit? After all, I need to make a good impression on the people at our wedding!”

“Lady Aerwynn, I need to inform you of something. I already have a bride. I am happily married to someone. Our wedding would be unlawful. If you could go get my grandmother, I can explain everything and you could be free to marry anyone else.”

This seemed to make her upset. Tears started welling up in her eyes as she heard what her ‘fiance’ was saying to her. 

“It’s not true! You just don’t want to marry me! Well, I don’t care! We’re getting married, whether you like it or not!”

All of a sudden, the window burst open. A large draft of wind swept through the room, putting out the candles and the fire within the fireplace. Malleus turned to see his wife, his true wife, on the balcony, fixing her veil out of her face. He had never been so relieved to see her.

~~~~~~~~

“My darling, I just wanted to meet-” Once your veil was out of your face, you were able to see your husband with another woman in his arms. However, you quickly brushed it off as the wrong place at the wrong time.

However, the woman let out a gasp of shock at your appearance.

You reached over and grabbed Malleus’s arm to pull him towards you. You wrapped your arm in his, making sure that the strange living woman knew that he was yours.

“Darling? Who is this?” You asked.

“Who is she?” 

“I’m his wife.” You extended your hand with the wedding ring on it towards her, letting the moonlight reflect off of the glistening golden band.

“Malleus? What is the meaning of this? You’re not going to marry me because you’re married to a corpse?!” Lady Aerwynn was only getting angrier, as were you.

You felt betrayed. You snatched your arm from Malleus and stared menacingly at the woman.

“Hopscotch.” You snatched your husband’s arm before sinking back outside, a murder of crows flying in a circle around you two until you were back in Elder Gutknecht’s room.

~~~~~~~~

“You lied to me! Just to get back to that other woman!” You shoved Malleus away from you, again feeling betrayed. Emotions came punching you in the face, and you were first experiencing anger.

“You don’t understand, my love. She means nothing to me-”

“Oh, really? Am I preventing your marriage to her? Would you rather be married to her?” Tears were threatening to spill as you interrupted Malleus. “You’re married to me! She’s only the other woman!”

You turned around, not wanting to let him see you cry. 

Elder Gutknecht let out a cough before saying, “She’s got a point.”

Through sobs, you were lamenting the early and untimely death of your marriage. “And-And I thought… This was all going so well.” More tears fell. Your eye actually popped out of your skull from the pressure, rolling its way to the dragon prince’s boot.

He bent down and picked it up, giving it a brush against the lapel of his suit so as to clean it up a bit.

“Y/N, darling, you misunderstood everything. I-” He reached out his arm to give you your eye back, and you snatched it quickly.

“It’s my eye, isn’t it?” You popped it back into place.

“No! Your eyes are the most beautiful things I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing into.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Prince Malleus Draconia.” “Don’t you see? My grandmother is attempting to wed me with Lady Aerwynn!”

“You should have thought about that before you asked me to marry you.”

“Can’t you see it was a mistake? You were never supp-”

You drowned out the last of the sentence. He thought your marriage to be a mistake. Maybe it was. Maybe Maggot was right, and you were in the wrong. All you wanted was to be a bride, as that dream had been stolen from you before.

Oh, yes. You were to be married to a wealthy fae that you loved so dearly about a century ago. You were one of the human nobility families, but the Wikora family was of lower standing at the time compared to yours. Your parents had forbidden the union for that very reason. Lord Piersym Wikora, to be precise, was the one you were to be married to. He was a mysterious stranger to you, having traveled about to many locations outside of the Briar Valley.

He stole your heartbeat, both literally and figuratively.

You walked off, the memories flooding back as well as the tears. It was time to give up on having a happy marriage, as you figured that matrimony between a dead human and an alive fae could never be compatible.

If only you had heard what he had said.

You were never supposed to see us like that. She wants to ruin my happiness for her own gain.

~~~~~~~~

In a desolate corner in the Land of the Dead, you could be seen sulking. Your veil was hanging upon a random stick of metal sticking out of the ground. You were sitting upon a broken coffin, a bench, if you will. 

“Roses for eternal love.”

You reached into your bouquet and snatched a rose head out, letting it drop to the ground in a messy fashion.

“Lilies for sweetness.”

As with the rose, you grabbed a lily and let it drop to the ground.

Upon seeing the third type of flower, you breathed in shakily before whispering the name.

“Baby’s breath.”

You tossed the bouquet away from you, feeling lost on what you were going to do now that your marriage was in shambles. Samson was with you, whining that his two owners were separated.

“Why so blue?” You looked over to see the Widow, someone who you looked up to as a motherly figure. Her six hind legs were lifted up in the air while her other two legs were acting as arms.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe it was a mistake.”

Maybe he should have his head examined.

You reached into your ear and pulled out Maggot, holding his tail between your pointer finger and thumb.

“I could do it!” Maggot exclaimed.

“Or maybe he does belong with her, Little Miss Living, with her rosy cheeks and beating heart. Plus, she’s a fae. I’m human.”

A heart can break once it’s done beating, you guess.

~~~~~~~~

“It’s true, Your Majesty! Malleus is married to a dead woman!” Lady Aerwynn looked the worse for wear. Her blonde hair was out of place as well as her dress. She looked a mess, and quite like a delusional patient. “I saw her. A corpse! Standing right here with Malleus.”

“I beg your pardon? My grandson… married to a corpse? Are you sure you don’t have a fever, dear?” Queen Maleficia lifted her hand to the girl’s forehead, checking for any unusual warmth.

Yes, she knew of the danse macabre story. However, she did not believe in it. And she refused to believe that her grandson indulged in frivolous tales and thus ran away… especially since he was an adult in fae terms.

“Come here and let me fetch you a blanket. You seem to be a bit feverish, dear.” Maleficia had a servant fetch a wool blanket as she assigned another servant to make sure that Lady Aerwynn didn’t go outside and worry the citizens even more.

Her Royal Majesty tried using her magic to see if she could locate Malleus through sensory magic, but she came up with nothing. He was not even in Briar Valley, but he couldn’t have made it to another land in that short amount of time, especially since she put that spell on his room. So, she started considering the possibility of the danse macabre.

~~~~~~~~

Malleus had been wandering about for a while in search of Y/N. He wished to hear her voice once again, as he felt his heart aching for her.

Sure, it was only during the night that he had gotten to know her, but his draconic instincts were telling him that she was his beloved, the person he was destined to be with for all of eternity, and not even death could part them.

He turned the corner to a street he had walked on before, following Samson who had your bouquet in his mouth. It was the bar where this entire journey started. Where he got to know what had happened to you.

Upon opening the door, he heard the piano playing. It was finely tuned despite being so old. You were sitting at the bench, both your decaying and skeletal hands dancing on the keys. Malleus walked up quietly, placing the bouquet that Samson had given him onto the top of the coffin-style piano.

“I’m sorry, my love. I just wanted you to know that I have no wish to be with her. I am happy with you, not with her. She wants to ruin our happiness to gain power for herself.”

You said nothing, and you continued playing. You were at the lower end of the piano, playing the deeper notes. Malleus joined you on the bench, turning his body towards the higher notes.

His years of learning the piano would come in handy.

To compliment the melody you were playing, he decided to add a more lighthearted spirit by playing a few notes.

That backfired, as you glanced at him with a look of disdain. You turned back to continue playing, but Malleus responded with the higher-pitched notes again.

You watched with an annoyed look on your face, before finishing off the melody.

However, Malleus started another one. He looked at you as he paused for a few seconds, inviting you to join him. And so you did.

Much like the dance you both shared in the moonlight, you were also in-sync with your piano playing. It turned into an expression of the both of you, lighter notes symbolizing life and deeper notes symbolizing death. The song was a motif for the joining of both life and death.

But, you got carried away, and your skeletal hand broke off and continued playing despite the rest of you as well as the entirety of Malleus stopping. You let out a gasp of shock as your hand started dancing about on the keys by itself, running up Malleus’s arm.

Giggles emitted from the both of you, much like children. The dragon fae took your detached hand in his before handing it over.

“Pardon my enthusiasm.”

“I like your enthusiasm.”

You both leaned in a bit as he reattached your hand to your arm. You looked up and into each other’s eyes before-

“NEW ARRIVAL” The bell started sounding, startling you both.

“Lights up!” 

Everyone started flooding into the bar. Paul and his cockroaches started pouring drinks.

“Hurry up, boys. Vite, Vite! Bonjour! Bienvenue! Drinks for everyone! Another pint, sir?”

“Oh no, just a half.” The man who ordered completely split in half.

Paul whistled at his roaches, having them bring the beer stein over, which ended up knocking him over.

“It is impossible to get good help anymore!”

Ms. Plum started making her way through the crowd of people.

“Welcoming committee, coming through! Coming through! My name’s Plum. Miss Plum.”

Malleus turned to see who had exactly died, and he recognized the man. He was one of the servants tasked with caring for him when he was a youngling. He had always been on the weaker side, having a horrible cough. He was one of the few human servants still remaining in the castle.

His name was Mr. Nimbus, or Nimbus Redrose. He just grew up calling him Mr. Nimbus because of the stories he would tell.

“Mr. Nimbus? Is that you? It’s wonderful to see you again!”

“Your Highness? Why, everyone’s been worried sick! Well, not me anymore!” The man let out a loud laugh before patting the prince on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t worry about me, though. It was about time I passed.”

“Hurry up, boys! Can you not see the gentleman is parched?!” Paul addressed his cockroaches, exasperated at the slow rate of his staff.

“How is Lady Aerwynn?”

“She was purely hysterical from what I could tell. Her Royal Majesty is concerned for her, but she’s more worried about you.”

“Yes, I do feel horrible that I had taken leave without informing anyone of my whereabouts, but my night has gone better than it ever could have. She was truly insufferable.”

A random drunkard of a skeleton threw his arm around Nimbus, stumbling and slurring about, and he said, “Women; you can’t live with them… You can’t live with-” Then he fell down.

“Well, I guess it’s time for you to pick up the pieces and help them to move on.”

“Speaking of picking up the pieces…” The skeleton from before was on the floor in just a heap of bones, making Malleus amused. He would use his magic, but it didn’t work on the dead. So the poor, drunk skeleton was just left there to sober up.

However, your husband had more concerning matters on his mind. He needed to somehow inform his grandmother that he wished to stay in the Land of the Dead with you. With that, he walked off to start contemplating methods.

“Malleus? Where are you going?”

~~~~~~~~

Queen Maleficia rested her forehead in her hand as she sat upon her throne. This whole day had not gone according to plan. 

She was feeling horrible for trying to force her grandson into a marriage that he did not want. However, she wanted to at least give him a push to marry his true love before Lady Aerwynn.

The Wikora family was indeed powerful, as their family came from sprites and faeries directly. Aerwynn Wikora, the daughter’s name, was a faerie herself. She had a way with music that Maleficia found light and airy… much different to the Draconias. However, despite that being her style, her entire family was corrupt. They wanted more power, and they were second only to the Draconia family.

It had frustrated the Wikoras that it had become a trend for the Draconias to pick up human lovers and marry them despite them being taken by death so early. However, as we all know, a dragon must be with their true love in order to truly be happy.

Every so often, a maid would come into the throneroom and update her on Lady Aerwynn’s state. She seemed to be getting a tad better, which was a relief. However, her ramblings set an ounce of doubt in Maleficia’s mind. What if the story of the danse macabre was real? It could be the only explanation.

However, if that were true, then he wouldn’t have turned up in the forest in the first place.

~~~~~~~~

Malleus was walking around once again, as he tended to do when he was in deep thought.

You see, he knew that there was no way he could go back to the living world or else he would be barred from his beloved. But, the Briar Valley would need a king once his grandmother passed the crown onto him. He doesn’t know how well his subjects would take it upon hearing that their Queen is technically dead.

Then, he came across a door that he knew led to the kitchen. He peaked in to see you talking to the head chef, Ms. Plum.

“Oh, Ms. Plum. What am I to do? He just walked off without saying a word. Are all men like this?” You lamented. 

“Well, I’m afraid none of them are very bright. They get something stuck in their heads…” Mrs. Plum began her response before pulling a knife out of the head of her colleague and wiping it clean. Then she continued, “...and you can’t do a thing with them.”

Elder Gutknecht burst into the kitchen with a rather heavy book. It actually seemed to be more than his skeletal weight, and it made Malleus briefly concerned. It was flipped to a certain page, and Maggot resided on top of the page.

“My dear, we have to talk.” The Elder seemed burdened by something, which made the dragon prince worried.

“Let me tell her, please. Let me tell her!” Maggot seemed quite the opposite. Whatever misfortune had happened, he seemed to be fairly excited about it.

“What?” You seemed to have the same fear that was now residing in your husband.

“There is a complication with your marriage.” A gasp made its way out of you, and Malleus was pretty close, but he knew that this was not his moment to pop in yet.

“I don’t understand.”

“The vows are binding only until death do you part”

“What are you saying?” “Death… has already parted you.” Another sound of surprise emitted from you, and your hand flew to your mouth. You started to bite your nails in quick contemplation.

“I don’t think he would leave, but is there something you could do to make the vows binding?”

“There is one thing…”

“Oh, please, please, let me tell her!” Maggot interrupted. The suspense was drawing you and Malleus (who was still outside) towards the elderly man.

“...It requires the greatest sacrifice…”

“Go on, get to the good part~”

“What is it?”

“We have to kill him!”

A moment of silence fell on everyone. It was overwhelming for even the dragon prince to comprehend. 

Is he really willing to give up his life?

“What?”

“Prince Malleus would have to give up the life he had forever. He would need to repeat his vows in the Land of the Living…

…and drink from the Wine of Ages.”

Elder Gutknecht pointed at the page his book was opened to, and it pictured a vial or bottle of something. Your hands clasped themselves over your mouth as you turned away. Your face held a look of disbelief and remorse.

“Poison…”

“This would stop his heart forever. Only then would he be free to give it to you.”

Dropping to the floor, you bowed your head.

“I could never ask him…” A lone tear traveled down your decayed cheek.

“You don’t have to, dearest.” Malleus made his presence known, entering the kitchen finally. He extended his hands to you as he said, “I’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant spending eternity with you, Y/N.”

You looked up in surprise, originally hinted with a bit of mortification. However, upon hearing what he said, the mortification wiped itself away.

“My boy, if you choose this path, you may never return to the world above. Do you understand?” Elder Gutknecht looked at the prince, waiting for his response.

Continuing to look into your eyes as he helped you up, he said, “I do.”

~~~~~~~~

“Gather round. Gather round, everybody! My soon-to-be-official bride and I have decided to wed each other properly, so grab what you can and follow us. We’re moving upstairs for a proper celebration.” Malleus shouted as he held your hand atop the foundation of a statue.

“Upstairs? I didn’t know we had an upstairs!” A lady in the audience exclaimed. Everyone was now buzzing with excitement for the wedding. They rushed off to prepare both the bride and groom.

“Ms. Widow? I was wondering if you could touch up my suit. I want to be looking the best I can for Y/N.” Malleus explained, also beaming with excitement.

“Why, of course!” She let out a loud whistle, and a few different spiders appeared. The feeling of them walking all over was a bit ticklish, but the dragon prince remained as still as he could.

Then, a hush fell over everyone.

The women started singing in a rather calming tone, announcing that the bride was there.

You walked down the stairs, bouquet in hand and your dress trailing behind you. Once again, Malleus had his breath taken away at your beauty. Some of the widows dropped down with your veil, placing it lightly upon your head.

The men joined in the singing as you twirled about.

Maggot was in tears, blowing his nose in a smaller-scale handkerchief. He just couldn’t believe that his dear friend was finally getting married. He was so proud.

Everyone made their way upstairs. There was a large cake following everyone as well that the chefs whipped up. It was extravagant to say the least, but so were the wedding festivities of Briar Valley.

~~~~~~~~

Queen Maleficia was torn.

She sat at the dinner table, accompanied by Silver, Sebek, Lilia, and the Wikora family. A simple soup was served for dinner, as no one could really stomach an extravagant meal. However, the Wikoras were not really appreciative of the dismal dinner.

Lady Aerwynn looked a tad better, some color having returned to her skin. She was not as feverish, but she was not touching her food. Her hair was brushed neatly, courtesy of the servants who were attending her.

That aside, the Queen was wondering how she was going to break the news to the Wikora family that Lady Aerwynn’s engagement to her grandson was invalid as per her orders. 

The entire room was silent, save for the flickering of the fire behind her in the fireplace and the scraping of spoons against the ceramic bowls. 

“Has there been any news about His Royal Highness?” Lord Piersym inquired. He was Lady Aerywynn’s older brother, and even more insufferable.

“I am afraid not. There are a few parties out in the woods searching for him.” Maleficia responded.

Then, the fire turned green. It cast an ominous emerald glow in the room, surprising everyone. They all stayed frozen still, only moving their eyes.

Creeping up behind the Wikoras were what Silver, Sebek, Lilia, and Maleficia recognized as dead bodies and skeletons. The one behind Lord Piersym, their eye accidentally fell out of its socket and landed in his soup.

“There seems to be an eye in my soup,” he stated rather calmly.

That is when poor Lady Aerwynn ran to her wit’s end and started screaming. The knights were also considerably spooked at the happenings, but they came to the realization that their weapons were taken by the walking dead. They were left defenseless, basically.

Her Royal Majesty didn’t seem scared but rather on the defensive. This was living (?) proof that the danse macabre was real. That means her grandson would be back. All the living dead were headed a certain direction, she noticed, after spooking her guests and the knights. 

Lilia also seemed to notice that pattern and started leading her out of the castle and down the roads. A bunch of skeletons were climbing over the palace walls and into the village outside, so the two faes started making their way to a meadow, as that was where everyone was going.

All around them, couples who had lost each other because of death reunited, and it was beautiful. Typically, in Briar Valley, no one remarries once death has parted them from their first partner. Hence why Queen Maleficia has no king consort. So, to see that loved ones were able to see deceased loved ones again was truly magnificent.

After the reunions, they started heading towards the meadow where a wedding seemed to be set up. An altar of both dead and alive flowers (that symbolized death), as well as the typical wedding flowers (like roses, lilies, and baby’s breath, as mentioned before). The feeling of excitement was in the air, and Maleficia had never seen the village bustling with life like this before… pun intended.

Whispers made their way through the crowds of people, both dead and undead. From what Her Royal Majesty and Her Right-Hand Man gathered, His Royal Highness was repeating his wedding vows in the ‘Land of the Living’ to be with his true love.

…Lady Aerwynn was right. Malleus had, in fact, danced with the dead. Now he was going to join them alongside a dead woman he had only just met that night.

The severity of the situation was donning on both faes as they took their seats in front. More whispers of amazement at seeing the Queen as well as the (at their time of life) General as they sat down. 

The two let out a gasp as they saw Malleus teleport to the altar. His suit was a black coat with a green vest. A black button-up resided underneath along with a green tie about his neck. Black dress pants and shoes accompanied the rest of the outfit.

Gasps resounded from the rear of the venue and everyone turned to look. There you stood, your veil hiding your face. Because of its transparency, everyone could still see your face, albeit it was still slightly shrouded from view. You walked slowly down the aisle, as per tradition. There was no question about it: you were beautiful.

Maleficia could tell that you were once a gorgeous human woman. Actually, you seemed very familiar. That dress was one that she had seen before. 

You reached the altar and stood beside your about-to-be husband. At the podium stood a rather old skeleton with a rather large book and a bottle of what was presumed to be wine and an empty chalice. The officiant, the Queen guessed.

“Evening. Dearly beloved… and departed… we are gathered here today to join this man and this corpse in marriage.”

Silence washed over the people attending the ceremony. It was like magic the way that everyone wanted to speak but no one dared utter a word. Malleus gently lifted your veil to reveal your face to everyone, and he swears that he is gazing into your eyes for the first time. The pure amount of love in his eyes could have made your heart begin to beat again.

“Living first.” The old skeleton pointed to Malleus, who turned towards you.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Just like he rehearsed, he raised his hand up and you accepted it, and he led you three steps forward. 

“Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” He took the empty chalice and lifted it up.

“Now you.” The officiant pointed at you. You realized that you would finally be able to say these vows in however many years since you were set to marry.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” Just like you had rehearsed many times before, you took a step towards Malleus.

“Your cup will never empty, for I will be…” You opened the bottle and took it into your hand and started pouring the liquid into the chalice that Malleus was holding. But, you paused.

Malleus looked at you expectantly, wanting you to finish the vow so that he may drink the Wine of Ages, wanting to join you eternally in death.

“...I will be…” You came to the realization upon stealing a glance at the crowd. They needed a king once Queen Maleficia gave away the crown. Not just that, but Malleus still had his entire life ahead of him. He was signing it away just for a woman he had only met that night.

“Go on, my dear.” The elderly skeleton prompted. You focused your gaze back on Malleus, who had a hopeful but fearful look in his eyes. However, you did not have that hopeful look in your eyes to match. Malleus realized that.

You take a deep breath in as you go again, “Your cup… will never empty… for I will be…” It’s as though something is prohibiting you from saying the vows in their entirety.

“...I will be your wine.” Malleus finished, going to drink from the chalice. However, before it reached his lips, you put your skeletal hand over it and brought it back down. The dragon prince looked at you in shock, but you looked down to avert his gaze.

“I can’t,” You looked back up at him, tears in your eyes. You were whispering so that no one else could hear you.

“What’s wrong? Speak to me, my love,” He whispered back.

“This is wrong… I was a bride. My dreams were taken from me. And now… I’m taking someone else’s life for my own selfish dreams.” Malleus was about to say something, but you stopped him.

“I love you, Malleus. But you’re not mine to have.”

You both were fragile in this moment as everyone was staring in suspense as to what would happen next. However, someone started clapping in a very slow manner.

“Oh, how touching. I always cry at weddings.” The two of you could recognize that voice from anywhere, and that man started walking down the aisle towards you both.

It was Lord Piersym.

“Our young lovers… together at last. Surely now they can live happily ever after?” The antagonizing tone in his voice did not go unnoticed, and your was-to-be husband put his hand on the other side of your waist and pulled you into him, so as to not leave you vulnerable.

“But you forget… HE IS STILL MY SISTER’S HUSBAND BY ORDER OF THE QUEEN!!! THE WIKORA FAMILY WILL NOT LEAVE EMPTY-HANDED!!!” He screamed. Malleus was about to put an end to this by using his magic, but you stepped out of his grasp.

“You?” You asked. The dragon fae as well as the crowd watched as you walked to the edge of the plateau upon which the altar stood.

“Y/N?” Looks of recognition flashed on both Lord Piersym’s and your faces. 

“You.” Your face turned into one of disgust and hatred.

“But… But I left you!” The man turned as white as a ghost.

“...For dead.” Gasps emitted from everyone in the meadow. It seemed that even the animals that were still active went absolutely silent.

“This woman is obviously delusional! It would do you good to hold your tongue, you filthy human!” He pointed a sword at you, and while you were aware that you could not die twice, Malleus seemed to have forgotten about it. All he processed in his mind was that his mate was in danger. 

“You were set to marry me. You have no right to call me that,” you stated, diction quite clear and distinct.

“Touche, my dear.”

“Now, go away.”

“Oh, I’m leaving. But first! A toast!” He grabbed the chalice out of Malleus’s hand, lifting it in the air and turning towards the audience, who all had either surprised or angry faces, depending on if they were alive or dead.

“To Y/N! Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” 

Malleus was about to shout and lose his mind over what he had just said to you, but you took a step closer to him and kept a vigilant eye on Lord Piersym. 

“Tell me, my dear…

Can a heart still break once it’s stopped beating?” Venom laced within his voice, he, too, kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings. His words were enough to bring you to the verge of tears.

“Let me at him! Let me at him!” Maggot was furious. He wanted the death of the puny lord to be by his own ‘hands’ with how angry he was at that moment. However, Elder Gutknecht held him back with his finger, along with the rest of the crowd with his other arm.

“Wait! We are amongst the living! We must abide by their rules!” The Elder warned.

“Well said,” Lord Piersym said in response. He then lifted the chalice to his lips, as though to ‘cheers’ what he said. Then, he proceeded to drink all of the wine that was in the cup. He gave it back to Malleus and started making his way to the side and out of the venue.

“...Not anymore~” Maggot said. Well, he wasn’t wrong, as all of a sudden, Piersym Wikora doubled over, gasping for air. He could feel his magic drain from his body and be replaced with something else.

As I have mentioned before, dear reader… magic is alive. At least, the kind of magic that faes, trolls, and others have in the Land of the Living. The kind of magic that was being replaced in Piersym’s body was something unexplainable. It was like a dead magic. No, not dormant, and certainly not like a volcano. But a dead magic.

The lord looked up, and his skin was pale with a blue undertone to match. His heart had stopped. He was now a walking corpse.

“Yep. You’re right. He’s all yours,” With those words, Elder Gutknecht put his arms down and the dead in the crowd started making their way to the, now dead, lord. They dragged him back through the village, back to the Land of the Dead via the fountain in the center.

That left the living as well as you at the altar. The Moon was close to giving way to the Sun. You turned back to Malleus.

“Y/N, I made a promise to you when I proposed to you. I intend to fulfill that promise if you will have me.”

“No, Malleus. You have kept your promise. I loved dancing with you under the moonlight. You’ve set me free. Now I can do the same.”

Right then and there, butterflies started cutting their way out of the bottom of your dress and legs. It was as though you yourself were an image. You began to disappear as the butterflies flew away. 

However, Malleus was not ready to let you go without giving you a farewell gift. He gently pulled your… upper body… closer to him and placed a kiss on your cold lips. A tear escaped from his right eye. Then, you were gone.

~~~~~~~~

Maleficia didn’t know how to feel. However, there was one prominent emotion that made its way to the front of the line, and it was sympathy for her grandson. She stood up from her seat and made her way to Malleus, going to wipe away a tear and say something in encouragement.

“Grandmother, why does it hurt so much?”

“I am afraid, Malleus, that it is the one thing no potion or spell will be able to fix. You will have to recover on your own.”

This took forever, and I was supposed to have it out on Halloween but that clearly did not happen lol.

Thank you for reading! Like, comment, reblog, share, whatever lol.

[izzabela]

Hello🍷, I have an idea for a writing, of a Bi-han x reader; where the reader is about 10-15 years older than Bi-han but does not stop, because the reader looks extremely young, even more than Bi-han,

(I really think Bi-han is about 28-30 years old but that's in your hands 🙏🏻😶‍🌫️🍷)

LN

Eternal Beauty - Bi Han x GN!older!reader (headcanons)

in which Bi Han is pining after an older partner

a/n: milf, gilf, dilfs, WHATEVER, bi han DTF. older reader with a little twist, btw

ship[s]: bi han x older!GN!reader

warnings(s): canon story deviation

- You are half Edinian, half human, but Bi Han didn't need to know that for his breath to be caught in his throat at your ethereal beauty

- Bi Han knows you're older than him, hell he lowkey loves it, which makes his pining after you even more adorable

- Your Edinian's mother's genes allowed you to gracefully age. Your skin remained taut, but your humanity showed through the smiling lines around your mouth, and the wrinkles that were by your eyes

- It added to your charm, made you look even more beautiful than the other people that wanted to be by the Grandmaster's side

- He definitely got shit for it, being so obviously in love. Even though he would yell at whoever was poking fun at him (usually either Tomas or Sektor), he would never deny his love for you

- When speaking to you, Bi Han's rough voice was paired with tender words and kind gestures. After a good round of sparring, he'd praise you and make sure you were given enough to eat.

- He'd even make sure your patrols would not last into the night, Bi Han spoiling you by making sure you got ample sleep

- Bi Han would also walk beside you, not in front as he did with others. Just as he respected those with power, he respected his elders

- It shocked you, considering the trauma you had heard from his brothers, but when you brought it up to him, he gave you a simple answer

- "It is respect. What happened back then does not change my beliefs."

- Speaking of his beliefs, I genuinely believe he would do things the most traditionally when it comes to dating and marriage

- He and his brothers may fight in regards to ethnic customs, but they can both agree on how to treat the person they pursue

- Bi Han would plan all of the dates (during the rare days off you had). He wouldn't "try", just do, and he'd do so with impeccable detail. He had once sent you a letter to your room (his room was only a couple doors away), with a detailed itinerary

- in the list: five-thirty, casual, village restaurant, be pretty (he can be so cute sometimes)

- Bi Han would never fail to gift you a bouquet of flowers- cheap or not. However, as Grandmaster, he has power over funds as well

- Bi Han once gifted you a bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers from a florist in Fengjian after another test

- Another time, he sent initiates out to the cave of an Arctikan dragon to pick the rare flowers that grew there

- the flowers were a beautiful blue hue, and the frost breath the dragon breathed gave it an semi-immortal frost. So, although it will die, it will not die easily

- When you asked Bi Han about the significance of the flowers, his words melted your heart more

- "Like my love, it won't die as quickly as my physical form. My heart will transcend everything- all for you"

=====================

i love Bi Han

anyways another super easy finish. be prepared though, i've got more fics on the way!

stay tuned, and i'll see yall in the next fic!

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve sets up a fantasy themed scavenger hunt around Hawkins (not super obvious tho, you know the type of people in bumfuck Indiana) that ends up at skull rock where Steve asks Eddie to be his boyfriend (: (they've gone on a few dates all ready, but this is him trying to make it official)

Right up until this moment, Eddie thought things were going well with Steve. They had gone out a few times (discretely, not even their friends knew) but behind closed doors the relationship had progressed quite well beyond chaste kisses.

So he was a little confused as to why Steve asked him out, only to not be at the video store, ready to be picked up after work.

"Where's Steve?", he asked Robin.

"He's already gone, but he left this note for you~", she sang.

"A note? Why didn't he call?"

"Because this is more romantic", she grinned.

"You know?"

"And the sky is blue."

Eddie read the note. All it said was 'Mind the dragon's breath'. Eddie looked to Robin, who was smiling like she already knew the answer. Well, he could solve a riddle or two.

"Looks like I'm on a quest."

Obviously there wasn't a dragon in Hawkins. But there was a burger place on main street that had a new menu item, fries topped with the spiciest chili sauce, even had jalapenos on top. Steve had ordered them and was sweating by the third bite, Eddie finished the rest with ease. And it just so happened that Will and Dustin worked there. He drummed the counter as he ordered the fries. They put it in a to go box, with another clue on top.

'Consult the Lady and her council'

The Lady must mean Erica. And Eddie knew that this Saturday, she was meeting her girl scout troop in the community center. He knew because Steve had to reluctantly fill in as den mother whenever all the other moms were busy.

Erica's clue led him to Mike and Lucas, which led him to Jonathan, which finally led him to Nancy. He was surprised that she was in on the game, but he supposed he did hear that she used to play D&D before.

The last clue brought him to Skull Rock, where at last, Steve was waiting. He had a bouquet of flowers.

"I can't believe you got everyone to play along."

Steve shrugged. "I told them I had someone special and I wanted to introduce them to everyone."

Eddie's eyes got wide. "You...you told them? About us?"

"Yeah. I hope that was okay. I think at least our friends should know who my boyfriend is."

"Your..."

Steve held out the flowers. "What do you say?"

Eddie grabbed him by the waist and kissed him, crushing the bouquet. "I say you've raised my expectations for your marriage proposal."

[dellalyra]

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

pixie says: this is my first foray into writing for genshin but neuvilette is too pretty to ignore and if you notice i am writing for another tall man with white hair no you didn’t.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine was an elusive man. Aloof, serious, logical. The air of grace and elegance that flowed from his body and being put the most beautiful of swans to shame. The way he carried himself with such poise and dignity, made it clear why he was so very respected throughout Fontaine. His air of unattainability was echoed by the ever polite, kind-yet-distant way he interacted with others. That, and the obvious - that level of otherworldly beauty. It was what first struck the traveller upon meeting Neuvilette - such beautiful features, graceful and sharp like the man himself. Hair as white as freshly fallen snow with those odd blue horns (it became quite clear to the traveller that they were horns - since there was no way in Celestia that the Iudex was not the Hydro Dragon).

Yet - that day, at the grave of Navia’s father - it was clear as day that there was a deep, painful, lingering sadness in those beautiful eyes.

Lumine hoped he wasn’t alone.

The life of a dragon can be a lonely one.

An invite to dinner had arrived for Paimon and Lumine, from Navia - a thank you for their help during the trial. Following the etiquette she had been picking up on in each nation, it was customary to bring a gift to the host in Fontaine which lead her to wandering the streets in search of a florist. Lumine may have been very adept at gathering flowers and plants - however floristry arrangements were never a skill an intergalactic traveler and the sword of Teyvat had ever picked up on.

The pale blue front of the flower shop was immaculately painted and decorated with gilded lettering ‘la gueule de loup’ - which according to Paimon meant Snapdragon.

What an odd name, she hadn’t seen a single snapdragon in Fontaine.

“Bonsoir! If you need any assistance, please let me know!” A cheerful voice echoed from the door behind the cream counter.

“Hello! We would like to buy a bouquet please!” Paimon responded - ever the duo’s spokesperson.

At that, a woman in a pale pink apron came around the corner. Hair haphazardly pulled up atop her head secured with a pencil and a dark blue ribbon - a cream, soft blouse tucked into a dark blue layered skirt atop white stockings and navy and gold boots, a n embroidered blazer sat atop a chair which matched the woman’s skirt. She smiled brightly at the pair in front of her - and Lumine’s breath hitched when the shining tone of her eyes caught the evening sunlight, an otherworldly quality to her aura.

“A bouquet? Well, good thing you’re in a flower shop! I might have some flowers we could piece together!” She said, giggling as she gestured to the sea of flowers engulfing the store.

Paimon smiled and laughed and Lumine followed suit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lumine and Paimon - I was hoping I would get to run into you soon.” She said as she collected a basket to gather her supplies.

“You know us?” Paimon asks.

“Sweetheart, I think everyone in Teyvat knows you. The brave and beautiful outlander and her clever guide. However, my husband was in attendance at the most recent magic show and trial - so I became privy to all of the inside scoop.” She smiled.

“You did not attend? I thought all of Fontaine was there.” Lumine spoke up.

“Ah, I tend to not get involved with the trials, I am delivered a rundown of the days events in the evenings. Yet I have been to several of the twins magic shows, such fantastic entertainment! I do love them so. Such gentle children, too, Lyney and Lynette.” The woman’s eyes lit up and an air of an excited child permeated her face. Lumine quirked a brow at the woman calling the twins ‘children’ for she looked no older than 25.

“Now! What’s the occasion?” Hands placed on her hips, the woman smiled at the travellers.

“Miss Navia asked us to dinner this evening, and we’ve been told a gift is a Fontainian custom.” Paimon speaks.

“Ah! Well, for Miss Navia you will need some clematis - her favourites. Edelweiss for courage, which you have both shown in the past few weeks. Hydrangeas for understanding - blue, I think. Iris for trust. Nasturtiums for victory. Rosemary for scent and also for remembrance of her dearest father, with some added sweet pea as a thank for you a lovely time.” The woman says, mostly to herself as she wanders the store - quickly picking up bunches of flowers from the jars in which they lay. Paimon and Lumine’s eyes were wide as if the woman spoke in tongues.

“Wow! I didn’t even know flowers could mean all that! Lyney only told us a few! You sure know your stuff, Mrs. Florist!” Paimon squealed, amazed.

The woman threw her head back in laughter.

“Y/N is fine, sweethearts. A book could be told in flowers alone. Flowers are nothing but truth, they exist for beauty and healing - and I admire them greatly.”

“You knew Miss Navia’s father?” Lumine asks, gentle voice contrasting Paimon’s outburst.

“I knew him well. A very good man, loyal endlessly and thought of Navia as his entire world. A life taken too soon in protection of his child - I lay flowers on his grave every month, mortal lives are so fragile - they must be treated with respect, no matter the circumstances.” She says, hands deftly manoeuvring the flowers into a piece of sponge.

Lumine quirked a brow.

“Mortal?”

“A state in which neither of us reside, Miss Lumine.” The woman responds with a wink and a smile.

It was logical that Lumine was not mortal, yet the explanation of this woman before her also not being so seemed to make many things far more understandable.

Just then, a patter of footsteps outside the store came trotting in through the front door.

“Mama!” A small voice called.

“Liath! Hello, sweetling!” The woman pauses her arranging and comes around the counter and leans down. Lumine spins and expects to see a child - perhaps with the florists hair.

What she didn’t expect was a Melusine.

“Papa wishes to know if you’d like to have a picnic together this evening, when he is finished at the Palais.” She asks, picking a small rose and placing it in her mother’s hair.

“Tell him that sounds wonderful, I am closing the shop soon and I meet him at the office. Thank you, Liath. Come here, let me fix your ribbon.” Y/N smiles and adjust the ribbon on the lapel of the melusine’s lapel.

“Thank you, mama. Bye bye!” She says, kissing her on the cheek and skipping out the door.

“Mama?” Lumine asks.

“Ah - not biologically. Yet, my and my husband’s nature has led us to a parental standing with the melusine’s. They are all our children, regardless of what soil they grew from.” She says, wrapping up the bouquet in a swathe of blue ribbons. Lumine wonders if by nature, did she mean they were both parental figures by nature or something to do with her not-mortal being. Perhaps her husband also was not human.

Lumine decided to press on the matter no more. Everyone deserved their privacy, after all.

“Et, voila! One bouquet for Miss Navia.” Y/N says, handing the bouquet to the traveler.

“How much do we owe you?” Lumine smiles, the bouquet truly was something exquisite, a talented woman indeed.

“Nonsense, lovely. You have done Fontaine a great service, consider this a small thank you. Miss Lumine, please take these peony roses also - they are a symbol of happiness, which you make me as I have heard you show great kindness to all of my children, for which I am so very grateful. For you, Madame Paimon, some purple Iris - meaning respect and intelligence for the Outlander’s clever guide.” She hands them all of the flowers, and winks at Lumine when she addresses Paimon, knowing that such words would fill the floating pixie with glee. True enough, Paimon squeals and dives to hug the woman who chuckles and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you so so much, Miss Y/N! We love them so much - Lumine, you could put it in your hair with your Inteyvat! I’ll put mine under my tiara, then we can match!” Lumine smiles and does as suggested.

“May I ask where you are meeting Miss Navia?” Y/N asks.

“Café Lucerne, however I’m not quite sure where that is.” Lumine responds.

“Ah! Well then I can walk you, if you wish?”

Just as she speaks, the door opens with a jungle of the bell as Lumine secured the flower in her hair she sees Y/N smile and walk around the counter.

“Hello, mon ange. I thought I was meeting you at the Palais.” Ah, must be her husband, Lumine thinks and she sees Paimon turn and freeze.

“Mon trésor, I am taking you on a picnic so it is only right that I collect you myself.” The deep rumble of a voice makes Lumine freeze too.

“YOUR HUSBAND IS MONSIEUR NEUVILETTE?!” Comes a squeal from Paimon.

Lumine spins on her heel and sees the owner of the familiar voice. Y/N’s hand is pressed to the far taller man’s cheek in a tender display of affection she would not have associated with the Chief Justice.

The gentle smile on the man’s face as he looks at his wife with such love is one she figures the melusine’s learned from him.

“Miss Lumine, Miss Paimon. A pleasure to see you. I see you have met the Madame Neuvilette.” He nods his head toward them.

“MADAME NEUVILETTE?!” Paimon seems on the verge of a meltdown at this information.

“Indeed. Apologies, I got so caught up in making such a wonderful bouquet I didn’t even introduce myself properly. Do forgive my lack of manners.” She says, turning and removing her apron as she begins to shut down the store for the evening.

Everything clicked into place just then.

The wife of the hydro dragon would hardly be a mortal woman. She mentioned the Palais, his attendance at both the magic show and the trial and of course the melusine’s would view the hydro dragon as their father.

The logical side of it all did little to curb the shock of seeing the intimidating Ludex and Hydro Dragon of Fontaine, the man who had taken out Childe with a simple slap being so gentle and enamoured in the face of his wife.

They way they looked at each other - that level of love had been a rare delight to find across her journey. Perhaps in how Zhongli spoke of Guizhong or Cyno and Tighnari - or how that certain someone looked at her and she at them…

“Neuv, we must show Lumine and Paimon to Café Lucerne on our way to our picnic.” Y/N says, ushering them all from the store before locking the door behind her.

The walk was short, as pleasantries were exchanged and Paimon and Y/N did most of the talking in the wake of the quiet counterparts.

“And here we are! I do hope you have a wonderful evening. My regards to Miss Navia. Do come and visit again soon, I would love to exchange tales of adventures!” Y/N smiles, before pressing a kiss to each cheek of the two outlanders.

“Indeed, the melusine’s speak very highly of you both - you must forgive the children if they become over zealous.” Neuvilette adds with a fond smile.

“Au revoir, enjoy your meal!” Y/N says, grasping her husbands arm and smiling at him. Lumine looks at them walk away toward the aquabus station entrance.

She could not quite believe her eyes when she sees the hydro dragon press a large pale hand to the smooth, undisturbed lower belly of his wife.

The sunset brightened ever so slightly.

Fontaine surely was full of surprises.

[fortheloveofallthings]

Steddie Florist AU - Part 2

Part 1

Steve watched in a haze as Eddie stepped out the front door with his new dahlia. Of course this mystery man gravitated towards them, he thought to himself. They stick out in a crowd, are revered for their beauty, often symbolizing kindness and everyone that loves dahlias is obsessed with their moody aesthetic. Perfect for Eddie. Thankfully Robin wasn’t here today to poke fun at his now blossoming crush. He continued his usual tasks, happily letting thoughts of the bartender fill his mind. 4 hours, he can stop by the bar in 4 hours.

Eddie practically skipped the remaining block from the Flower Shop to the bar. Chrissy was already pulling down chairs from the tops of tables as he entered. “I finally walked in!” He announced. Her blonde ponytail whipped around as she placed another chair down. “You walked in? Like actually step foot inside?” she questioned, excitement woven into her tone. Eddie nodded as a smile stretched across his face. He held out the dahlia with Shakespearean flare knowing it would be proof enough. “He gave it to me on the house, so I offered him a drink tonight,” he smiled walking past Chrissy towards the rows of liquor behind the bar hoping to find something empty enough to use as a vase. It didn’t take long skimming through the shelves before he landed on a Tanqueray bottle he could rinse out. Chrissy made her way towards him to start prepping the garnishes, “A flower on the house?” “Yes, on the house.” Eddie reiterated. “I can’t believe the first time you actually step foot in there, the florist who you’ve been eyeing for months, flirts with you within what? 5… 10 minutes of you being there! And you arrive with a dahlia of all things,” Chrissy says in almost disbelief. Eddie had already rinsed the now completely empty bottle of gin and carefully unwrapped the flower from its tissue paper to place it in and out on the bar in full display, “So? It’s just a flower, he’s a florist, it’s a flower shop. He’s probably given loads of customers free flowers.”

The statement was as humbling as it was disheartening. Eddie wanted the flower to be a special moment between the florist and him. But romance was never company, not for any of the Munsons. Romance was a daydream. So the realist in him crushed any hopes of love before they could take root. No one had won the key to his gated heart. “Oh come on Eddie!” Chrissy scolded as she placed the lime knife down, “Dahlias represent long lasting bonds, love, devotion. Flowers have their own language and meanings. This man thinks you’re beautiful and I’ll bet he also has a crush on you.” Eddie was struck, dumbfounded, “What do you mean flowers have language? You can tell all that by a single flower?” “Yes, Eddie, I can. Lesbians know a lot about Victorian flower language. It’s a whole gay thing,” she explained. He humphed in curiosity, contemplating this new information, “Well don’t get my hopes up too high. I barely spoke to him and I can only pray to whoever’s out there he’ll even make an appearance later.”

Steve wrapped up his shift soon enough. Thankfully a customer’s custom bouquet order held his attention for the last 2 hours making the time fly by. He left the keys for Vickie to lock up as she arrived and he ran out the door. He sprinted back to his apartment, and opened the door to the small studio decorated with plants, paintings Robin made for him, and photos of him and his step-brother Dustin. Steve rushed through his shower so he could spend a decent amount of time on his outfit and hair before racing towards the Red Dragon. After much deliberation and a quick FaceTime with Dustin and his girlfriend Susie he settled on his light brown bomber jacket with the olive tinted elbow patches, a perfectly fitted off-white button up with a small leaf pattern, blue jeans and his slightly worn down converse. Susie suggested most of his clothes which was new territory for them but Dustin reassured him he looked like himself and not the straight-passing jock he typically would anywhere outside the shop. Steve smiled in the mirror as he did a final fit check, laughing at the accuracy in which Dustin described him then was out the door without any further hesitation.

Part 3

[adarkandmagicalforest]

an irritation part 7

pairing: Otto Hightower/original Female character (Aella Targaryen)

warnings: some smut, plot :(

next: Part Eight, Part Nine, Epilogue

Aegon's journey to Oldtown had been swifter than this, she'd be sure. But she supposed, when traveling in springtime, they might've lingered here and there occasionally too.

Cannibal was resting in the large field, a mass of comforting heat at her back as she wove the stems of flowers into Rhaenyra's silver-gold hair. The field was full of flowers, soft purple bulbs, long tinkling lily-of-the valleys and sweet bluebells. A wildflower field, perfect to allow their train to rest while the King's carriage wheel was repaired.

Syrax, the princess' young dragon, was more than Cannibal's length away from them all, finding Cannibal's proximity disturbing, even with his newer diet of oxen and sheep. 

And both dragons, even at rest, seemed to keep the Hand's little daughter Alicent, quite unsettled.

"Come from there," Rhaenyra called to her friend in between tastes of a bundle of honeysuckle in her hands. "They won't hurt you."

The russet-haired girl still seemed nervous, but the watchful eyes of the multiple dragonriders and the few dragonpit keepers seemed to give her enough courage to hurry to where the two princesses were sat beneath the shadow of the ancient dragon's charcoal-colored bulk. Alicent finally dropped beside Rhaenyra with a relieved sigh, their company apparently more safe now despite her being now well within breathing room of the beasts.

The child then neatly put out the skirts of her pale blue dress, it pooling around her as was appropriate for young girls their age. In her hands was a large bouquet of flowers, each one appearing to have been carefully selected for the beauty of their petals and the unblemished look of their stems. She was Otto's daughter, she thought, strangely endeared by such a thing. 

"Did you want those in your hair, little one?" Aella inquired lightly, weaving the last of the bluebells into Rhaenyra's ornate braids. She'd requested warrior twists, just as Queen Visenya had worn, though they were not as fearsome with the pretty flowers in them.

"Oh," Alicent said, her oak-brown eyes widening with embarrassment as her cheeks pinked. She adjusted the flowers on her lap, fidgeting with her fingers. "That is very kind, Princess, but I couldn't ask such - "

"Come here." Rhaenyra interrupted, ignoring her friends embarrassment in favor of taking the other girl's hand, pulling her towards them and scooching over so it was now Alicent seated in front. "The orange poppies would be nicest." The young girl decided, plucking one of the flowers up from the bouquet and holding it up against her friends fair features, making Otto's daughter blush all the rosier.

When she was given the flowers to begin, Aella glanced instinctively up to their surroundings, feeling watched. And immediately, her eyes caught sight of the girl's Father. 

Otto was watching from the closest carriage, speaking to some knight from his household while apparently only hearing every other word, given that the knight was looking rather more frustrated with the Hand as he seemed to repeat himself over and over.

An odd thing that he was so taken with watching her every move - for they had not spent a single evening or morning out of each others company since that godsawful dinner of Viserys' design little more than a fortnight ago. Not even once they'd begun on this journey to Oldtown.

While in Kings Landing, Otto had just kept arriving to her chambers, every evening, right after dinner as if she'd personally invited him. Then, on the fourth night, when he hadn't arrived as scheduled, she'd become incensed. Furious at his late arrival. So, the dragon princess had donned a robe and snuck into the Tower of the Hand, where he'd been sitting at his armchair by the fire, looking as if he'd been expecting her.

So Aella had grabbed him by the front of his doublet and thrown him, hard, onto the floor, forcing that pleasant look off his face. Then, she'd mounted him, grabbing him by the throat while he grasped at her hips until dark red bruises formed upon her tender flesh.

When they stayed in the Inn at Tumbleton, it was Otto who came to her chamber. She'd flirted shamelessly with one of the handsome, entertaining hedge knights that was having supper in the hall. He'd bent her over the small bed in the middle of the night, his hand clasped hard over her mouth as he drove into her with controlled and rough thrusts. He'd finished first, filling her without shame, before pushing her over and shoving his fingers inside of her. Otto's neat, clean, long fingers had been dirtied by his own cum, which he used to fuck his seed deep inside of her as if loathe to waste a single drop. Aella had loved every filthy moment of it.

At Cider Hall, slightly drunk upon the Keep's title beverage, the princess had wandered herself to the apple orchards, where she'd intended on feeding her Cannibal a few of the shiny yellow fruits that the Lady Fossoway had placed in her chambers. 

The large dragon had lowered his head cursorily at the basket, utterly delighting his rider as she tried to encourage him into trying the new food. 

Otto apparently had been already looking for her, and he'd spotted her pale hair from one of the Keeps windows.

He'd wanted her to return inside, but he, like his little daughter, was more wary around dragons. It had taken several white lies and another promise of cinnamon mead before she finally stepped out of the orchard. 

Though, not for very long. Aella had decided just then that Otto simply hadn't remembered the taste of the drink well enough, so she'd kissed him deeply against the heavy applewood door, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and shoving her fingers through his brown waves until he'd finally pulled her back within the privacy of the dense orchard and savored her cunt as well as she'd savored Lord Fossoway's craft cider. 

In the morning, the princess had woken up cradled in Otto Hightower's arms, with a surprising lack of desire to leave them. When he woke shortly after, he'd shifted, raising up a hand and lightly dragging his fingers through her white-blonde hair. And when she squirmed to look up at him, ready with some kind of quip on the tip of her tongue - it died. 

He was looking at her with the same sort of expression he was looking at her with now - but it was one that Aella was unsure how to identify. 

"How would you like them, hatchling?" She asked then, looking down at Alicent's long autumn curls, making careful work of removing the clips that kept the locks from her face.

"Oh," Alicent said again when she realized the address was for her, a partly nervous giggle coming from the child. "Well - my Mother used to wear a sort of braid. Like a circle around her head." Her Mother died not two years past. Florent, with red-brown hair less vibrant than Alicent's.

"Alerie." Aella affirmed to herself when she remembered her name. She ran her fingers through the child's hair, detangling it before she parted and held it up in a circlet against the back of her head, leaving the younger, downy curls against her nape loose. "How's this?"

Alicent nodded shyly.

So the princess began, arranging her hair in an artful array while Rhaenyra sparked her friend into conversation. They were still following a Septa's lessons, which Otto's daughter took more seriously than her niece. The founding houses was their current topic, house words, sigils and lords their focus, which Aella would only interrupt when she required another orange poppy from Alicent's bouquet.

"The North." The russet-haired girl quizzed.

"House Stark." Rhaenyra said idly, placing a twisted bluebell ring on her finger. "Sigil, a grey direwolf running across an ivory field."

"Words?"

"Winter is Coming." 

The two moved along to the Westerlands, Iron Islands, Riverlands.

But it was when Alicent prompted with, "The Stormlands," did she not answer.

A shiver had rippled beneath Aella's skin, which made Cannibal raise his giant head to the sky, which Syrax mirrored with alarm as all of their visiting dragons grew aware of what was above. But she knew, Aella would always know.

"Caraxes!" Rhaenyra gasped towards the sky, where the red dragon with his long neck and high-pitched cries was flying above their heads, flapping his wide wings as he passed low enough over their camp to send a gush of wind hard enough to make the tall grassy field flutter and shake off its petals.

And there was none else that Aella could do but stare as her twin brother flew off in a direction that their own train was already headed in: West. To Oldtown.

/~/

Highgarden was their next stop. They stayed for only two days, enough time to rest and feed the dragons with enough livestock that they had been pleased enough to fly overhead of the massive white castle, frightening men and beasts alike. 

Lord Loras Tyrell, who was an aging man the same age as Otto, had seemed in good spirits of it though his wife had not seemed as such. He and Otto, upon arrival to Highgarden, had greeted each other familiarly, shaking each others hands. It was once that Otto should've been to bow and kneel to Lord Tyrell, as a second son of one of the Paramount's pledged houses. But now, it was the higher born Lord who must lower his head to the lesser born. 

Aella stayed up all evening when they arrived - she was feeling strained and buzzing at the knowledge that her twin was if not already there, then headed to Oldtown as they were. The sight of Caraxes had launched a thousand strange feelings within her gut - one of them, the most strange, being dread. 

So she'd tried to diatract herself at the grand feast that Lord Tyrell had thrown for them. There was every type of fowl, roasted and each of them stuffed with chestnuts and bread and herbs and whatever else was chosen to suit them. There was a three tiered rose jelly, filled with fresh currants and raspberries. There was elderflower sparkling wine, meat pies by the hundred, ten different pigs with skin so brown and crispy that it cracked with a single tap with the back of a spoon. 

The people were unexpectedly beautiful as well. As far as the eye could see were beautiful young ladies with their sunkissed limbs and twinkling eyes and tall, courtly knights with carved jawlines and effortless smiles.

Aella couldn't help but dance with near a quarter of a hundred of them, attempting to find fault in any of them. But aside from one man who had a piece of mint stuck in his teeth and a girl whose dress had a stain on the front, they didn't even give her the enjoyment of finding them dull or secretly rotten. 

Viserys had looked pleased with each man she danced with, even without knowing which house they each belonged. Or maybe it didn't matter to him, only the possibility that one of them could bind her in marriage. 

He didn't seem that interested in the few appropriately aged lordlings that asked to dance with Rhaenyra, he only gave Aemma (who was looking distant, her dinner untouched, but her water goblet filled over and over with increasing frequency the longer the feast carried on) an amused smile while his little daughter was forced to avoid the young boy's ungraceful steps and unsteady grips. 

After Aella's fourth dance with a group of girls her age, she wandered back to the head table, fanning herself idly as she went to pick up a sweet orange tart, casting her eyes out, looking to see where her lover had gone. 

But she needn't look far. Because Otto, to her own surprise, was dancing.

It was with one of the girls she herself had just finished dancing with, a girl with light blonde hair braided artfully with silver thread over a cap of teal silk. They seemed to be speaking, and not how he'd spoken to Lord Tyrell.

This was hushed - the girl looked skillfully demure with hidden flirtatiousness behind her soft smile - and the Lord Hand... Was holding her waist, turning her in the dance. Aella couldn't see his face, no matter how long she looked. There were too many other couples dancing, tall Reach men who all seemed to wear fucking feathers in their caps.

"I see someone has caught your interest, sister." Viserys said coyly, reaching past her to pour himself another cup of elderflower wine, forcing her out of her jealous reverie. 

"Not at all," she lied, biting into the orange tart with rather more aggression than was needed. 

"Surely there is at least one gentleman who would not be so disagreeable a husband." He returned, his smile dropping quickly at her expression. Then, he huffed with complete frustration and took her wrist with his large hand, stopping her from mashing up the tart. Aella dropped it onto the floor, but her fingers were still sticky. "You know I do not badger you about this topic for pleasure, sister... It is only with concern that I ever bridge it. You are - directionless. A dragon with no nest to lay its head upon. You are my baby sister and I wish you to be well and contented. If not happy." 

The loud, busy feast erupted with laughter - the Highgarden fool was brought out and had taken a serving maid in a low dip, kissing her for all of the dancers to see.

"If you would wish me happy, then never force me to take a man to husband." Aella said to Viserys, realizing the path as she spoke it. She took her brother's hand, entangling her fingers with his. She had always been conflicted about marriage, teasing and toying with it - but never wanting it. The princess had been glad she'd never been married to Daemon. Glad she'd never been married to Viserys, too. She'd done what she could to let all her engagements fall through, finding fault in every man they pushed in front of her because she didn't want that future. One that landed her within a Sept wearing a white dress. 

White had never been her color anyway. 

"You know that is not the way of things, Aella." Viserys said softly, his face lined with regret and empathy - the first she'd seen of him since he'd become King. 

"But it could be," She insisted earnestly. "You are the King, the dragon. If you say things to be true and law, then they are... If - I were to bare my sons and daughters, and you named them Targaryen, without being forced into marriage to some husband - what is the Realm to do but accept their naturalization?" 

Her big brother was shocked at the suggestion, and he nearly balked. But her hand kept him close. "What you suggest, sister, has never been done." 

"It has," Aella retorted smartly, her fires catching. Eagerness began to enter her voice, and she knew as she went on that by his hold of her hands that this was right. The pieces were falling into place, like a broken painting which was being pushed back into how it was always meant to be. "In Old Valyria. We, the blood of the dragon, never held to these Westerosi beliefs before. We made love as we would, baring dragonriders all. What business is it of these people as long as my children take a dragon to mount? Let them think the Cannibal fathered my children... And let, one day, my sons marry your daughters. Uncle Viserys has been a title that is long overdue." 

Viserys' features faltered with something gentle and longing - a son was something sweet that her brother had always longed for, always. He'd loved children, and with every pregnancy and birth that ended so tragically, it always hammered at him horribly. 

"'Uncle Viserys'?" He eventually croaked quietly, looking down at her with that tragedy filling his indigo colored eyes. 

"Or Vissie. Children are dreadful at longer names." Aella said idly, her smile cool. 

Her brother's lips twisted into a smile. Then, it fell, and he looked back around the room, filled with every person in Highgarden it seemed like - and then he looked back down at her. "And this could not be done with a husband?" He inquired softly.

The dragon princess shook her head slowly, taking hold of his hand now with both of hers. Viserys covered them with his other hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He scraped his teeth against his lower lip, and looked to his wife again, who was big and withdrawn as the babe within her grew. 

"I look forward to meeting my nephew." The King finally consented, looking to her with a gaze that said, 'Is this enough? Finally enough?'

Aella lurched forward and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him tightly to her. When he wrapped his arms around her, it almost felt like their Father had stepped out of the grave and into his shoes. She couldn't help but hug him harder.

[archonsoflove]

Here is an ongoing list of fanfictions I have enjoyed and followed! I hope you will find something you like here as well <3

CONTENT WARNING: Please read all tags on these fics CAREFULLY

A SMALL NOTE: my list will be continued in my Bookmarks section on my AO3 account! You can find it HERE <3

I now have a GRAND MASTERLIST where I'll be updating regularly!

Zhongli/Tartaglia

The Autumn Winds Are Sighing by Bgtea

Snow Kissed

The World is Water by brambleblood

The Bride of the Golden Dragon by Erika_Bee

Feel It Pourin' In My Veins by bloofleurs

Calm My Head by seofim

Where Many Things Come to Settle by cruellae

When The Fighting Stops (And The Music Starts) by cruellae

Between Dreams and Nightmares by applpies

Introspection by Cheruann

A Kiss to Show My Sincerity by oronine

Jade Without Blemish by melecs

Meteor Shower by valkyrie_cha

Pantalone/Il Dottore

The Art of Drowning by Pantalonely

The Three-Body Problem by melancholicsushi

Kaveh/Al Haitham

He Talks The Talk Alright by Pantalonely

Forbidden Fruits of Knowledge by vahveroinen

Baizhu/Reader

A Flower Without A Seed by Madame_Machiko

Tartaglia/Reader

Tricks of the Trade by Meabd

Tastes Like Heaven by Sondepoch

Ayato/Reader

Silk Sheets and Blue Linens by an orphaned account </3

Pantalone/Reader

Take All You Can, Give Nothing Back by viveriveni

It's All That I Can Give to You, My Dear by LocalPlagueNurse

Cyno/Tighnari

The Lessons We Learn by Sabyisaloser

A Cheating Man's Bouquet by ikouya

Scientific Curiosity by 75centramen

White Hair and Fennec Ears by Topone

Akademiya Conservation Log: 291223689 by morphasia

You're Exactly What I Need by DFP

Kazuha/Heizou/Reader

Between Two Tender Lips by @piripaprikawritesfanfiction

Thieves and Knights by dontperceiverwi

[cnnmairoll]

hello hello! may i ask for a luka x fem!reader where luka sees reader taking care of the moles and he just gets this very homey and fluffy feeling within him? :'DD please only do it if you're comfortable + are okay with doing it given your sched!!! have a great day/night ahead!

The Moles' Beloved Miss

Pairing : Luka x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff a/n : When I saw this rec I immediately stopped whatever I was doing and got into writing. Luka favoritism? Yes but I'm not sorry for it. Anyways hope you liked this anon!!

You had always been the nurturing type. Whether it was tending to your garden, or baking cookies for your neighbors, your heart was as warm as your freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. You had a special place in your heart for children, which is why it was no surprise that you found yourself surrounded by a group of adventurous kids who called themselves "The Moles."

You had become fast friends with Hook and the other members of The Moles, Timmy and Julian. It all started when you noticed them playing in the park one day. Hook had taken a tumble, and you couldn't resist rushing to her aid. Since then, you had become their go-to caregiver, a role you embraced wholeheartedly.

One breezy afternoon, you sat in the center of a circle of Moles, their eyes wide with wonder as you spun a fantastical tale of knights, dragons, and magical kingdoms. They hung onto every word, their imaginations running wild.

Meanwhile, not too far away, Luka watched with a soft smile. He had always been drawn to your nurturing spirit, and your ability to bring joy to these young souls only deepened his admiration for you.

As your storytelling session concluded, Hook, the self proclaimed leader of the Moles, jumped up with enthusiasm. "Miss, can we hear more stories tomorrow? Pretty please?"

You chuckled, ruffling Hook's hair affectionately. "Of course, Hook. I'll have a new adventure ready for you."

Timmy and Julian exchanged excited glances, and Luka couldn't help but be touched by the happiness radiating from the children.

After your storytelling session, the Moles led you on a little expedition through the hidden corners of Belobog's Underworld. They showed you their secret hideouts, mysterious caves, and all their favorite spots for games. Along the way, you couldn't help but notice their youthful curiosity and wonder, and it warmed your heart.

As the day turned into evening, you returned to your small cottage in Belobog's Underworld. It was a cozy little place with wooden walls and a thatched roof, and it felt like a second home. You had a feeling Luka was responsible for its comfort, as he often popped by with small surprises, like freshly baked cookies or a bouquet of wildflowers.

Tonight, as you entered your cottage with the Moles in tow, you discovered a delightful surprise. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, and the smell of something delicious wafted through the air.

"Miss, look!" Julian exclaimed, pointing to a table laden with cookies, hot chocolate, and a pile of storybooks.

Hook grinned mischievously. "Luka helped us set up this surprise for you, Miss!"

And there, standing by the table, was Luka himself, wearing his characteristic warm smile. "I thought we could all have some cookies and milk and continue with the stories," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The Moles cheered in delight, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of happiness in your chest. You all gathered around the table, munching on cookies, sipping hot chocolate, and sharing tales long into the night.

Luka, with his infectious enthusiasm, added to the magic of the evening. He told stories of his own adventures, ones that inspired the Moles to dream even bigger. As the hours passed, you couldn't help but admire the way he connected with the children, just as you did.

The night drew to a close, and as the Moles left your cottage with tired smiles and full hearts, Luka lingered behind. He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with warmth and admiration.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for bringing so much joy to their lives. You have a gift.

You blushed, feeling grateful for Luka and the bond you shared with the Moles. "It's my pleasure, Luka. And thank you for always being there to support us."

With a fond smile, Luka reached out and gently held your hand. "You know," he began, "I think the Moles are right. You're like a guardian angel to them. And to me."

As you looked into Luka's eyes, you realized that this peculiar little corner of Belobog's Underworld had become a place of magic and wonder, filled with friendship and love. And in that moment, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

[cypressmoons]

minor spoilers for fontaine archon quest ahead

with a verdict, another trial draws to a close. the spectators stream out of the opéra epiclese, prepared for another gloomy, stormy afternoon.

yet the rain does not come.

a few dark clouds soon give way to the sun, the sky a crystalline blue that mirrored the oceans.

the people mutter to each other at the strange phenomenon, but are glad to enjoy the sunny day nonetheless. some theorize about the possibility of the hydro dragon feeling particularly at ease with today’s ruling, but most just simply hurry out to the streets, quickly filling the patio seats of the cafe or the park benches, as if afraid that any delay would warrant a sudden downpour.

hidden in the palais mermonia, as the warm sun rays seep through the thick velvet curtains, as the dust in the air dance in the beams of light, what the people do not see is the iudex of fontaine, aquamarine coattails splayed out like that of a mermaid's, being held so contently in the arms of his lover.

neuvillette’s head rests on your shoulder as you sink against the plush seats of the sofa, his thumb drawing mindless circles on your side.

he was insistent on you not coming to watch his trials, with the reasoning being lady furina's drama and flair too unnecessary to the legal proceedings. after all, what is the point of a serious trial when everyone acts like they're there for a theatre show?

what he doesn't tell you, is how much he hates seeing the minuscule changes in your expression when either side discloses a particularly disturbing detail. he knows how sensitive you are to such things, fontainians being dissolved to primordial sea water or otherwise. your sunny and bubbly personality being dimmed by the cruelty of the world is the last thing he wants to see.

if the world is really this cruel, then let him be the only one to have to bear it.

and so you don't ask him about how his trial went. instead, you talk about the new beverage the café lucerne is promoting, rumoured to have been invented by the blond traveller. you ask him for his thoughts on the legends of the narzissenkreuz institute, whether he’s seen the new bouquets of flowers laid out amongst shops in vasari passage, or if he’s ever been to the seaside and seen the cute little otters holding colourful shells.

you even ask him to tell you once again how all the different mechanisms operate at the beaumont workshop, to which he would patiently explain despite having told the stories countless times. his voice is soothing as he rambles on about cogs and gears and whatnot, even as your brain has long forgone trying to understand the mechanics. just hearing his voice, knowing that his mind is now occupied by all the other wonderful things the world has to offer, it puts you at peace.

and for once, it doesn’t rain in fontaine after a trial.

masterlist

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

For your wounded heart

Pt.2

Pairing: Mizu x reader

Word count: ~1,6k

Notes: Heyhey im dropping part two, sorry for the delay, currently I need to prepare for my upcoming exams so i don't have much time to get creative, also this part may feel forced?? weird?? short??? if so its because i have no will to exists rn eheheh but i'll get back to this as soon as im able to

Ps.: Mizu's pronounce changes with the povs, reader is gn so far (if you want to change that let me know, i'll go with this for now)

Part 1

Something squeezed her chest tightly. The pain tore through her heart like lightning - dipping it into frozen snow, bitter poison, molten iron until she felt nothing but pain and rage. She was angry at everyone and everything for letting her hurt. And it hurt because everyone only brought sadness to her.

Blackness, red, and blinding white alternated, zigzagging before her eyes like a dragon. Black, red, white. Red, white, black. White, black and–

Mizu's eyelids popped up, and she rose from the ground, eagerly sucking in the air into her lungs.

The fire was there before her. It found her again — it could finally hold her in its grip again. Wherever she went, she was at the corner of the raging fire, the tongues of flames reaching high and rushing after her to swallow her up, to erase her from the world.

In the wake of a child that brings death, only fire that brings death can follow.

"Hey, hey…!" A strange voice spoke from behind Mizu, barely louder than the crackle of fire.

Mizu turned and extended her arms. Everything was blurry, she only saw colors and shapes. Something warm and soft touched her palm. She squeezed it and pushed it to the ground.

A thump, a painful squeak, and Mizu was on her knees. Underneath, there's something soft, or better said, someone soft.

The air quickly escaped from your lungs after the stranger pulled you to the ground so quickly and then weighed down on top of you. Suddenly you couldn't even comprehend it – one moment he is still sleeping on the ground, wounded and harmless and in the next he jumps up with the speed of a shot arrow, and tackles you to the ground.

For a few moments you could only gape like a fish; searching for air and words.

When your mind finally worked enough to not only care about your situation, you were finally able to look into the eyes of your savior, who was just trying to crush you.

The yellow-lensed glasses slipped slightly on the bridge of his nose as he looked down. At first, seeing it on the road, you thought you must have bad eyesight from so far away. Then his iris appeared in a strange greenish-brown light resembling mud. But your very first judgment proved wrong.

A sea of blue eyes stared down at you.

Now it wasn't just the lack of air that made you unable to speak - shock silenced you.

Mizu stared at the figure in front of her. They didn't seem like someone who could cause her serious trouble if a fight took place. Judging by the stranger's expression, they were more scared to death than determined to get rid of her.

She looked around — her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Rough wooden walls, rammed earth floor, open stove, small room. Twilight. A roaring fire, pleasant warmth. Smell of strong spices and greens and flowers. Bouquets hung on the wall.

…. The bandits. That someone, who was being chased, flashed into her memories.

“Were you on the road…?” She asked in an uncertain voice, weakly.

"Please don't hurt me! I only want to help you!" The one she saved begged under her.

As if the threads of her thoughts had been cut off, all of a sudden Mizu felt a slow, sluggish nothingness in her mind. 

There were no thoughts, no reactions anymore.

Where was she? Who was that in front of her? What happened?

Why did the searing pain from her heart begin to sink down to her torso?

Before she could voice her confusion, a sharp jab hit her side, numbing her entire body. Teeth gritting and snarling - she loosened her grip as she was leaning to the side, ready to fall like a full sack although still had enough alertness to catch the force of the fall with her arm. 

And her vision darkened again.

Ignoring what you're knocking over or going into-you crawled away from him as soon as he fell back to the ground. With a gasping breath, you tried to grab anything in your reach that could serve as defense if the stranger decided that he had no intention of "rescuing you" anymore.

"Damn it...what was that?" You panted as you threw your back against the wall, watching the still body- sickle in hand.

You just wanted to thank him for what he did for you, whether it was an act from the heart or forced. This stranger saved your life, that's why you brought him - dragged him all the way to the hut. And he has the courage to attack you in his fever dream after that?

It was a thankless situation.

After a few minutes of consideration, you realized that this mysterious wanderer is probably hallucinating in a feverish dream. Sometimes muttering incomprehensibly, groans as his face gets distorted.

"He’s just imagining…" You tried to convince yourself. "Surely having visions..."

The lanky stranger then moved; his body shook, a low, bitter sob broke from his lips as he pulled his knees and chest together in front of him.

"Visions of great pain and troubled times." You acknowledged with a sigh, finally getting up from the wall, walking over to him and slowly lifting the blanket back over him.

Kneeling next to his head, you stilled. 

You bit in your lower lip as your gaze fell upon his face. 

In his sleep if he’ll think that you are part of the dark images that are now tormenting him and try to attack him…

Slowly, as if you wanted to touch a fine spider web, your fingers hovered on either side of his head – unsure whether to touch it or wait for his dreams to stop.

Then your fingertips reached the dark curls of his; to the grizzled, sweat-damp, black hair. It was just a gentle touch of a breath, but as soon as it happened, the blue-eyed stranger's features softened.

A wanderer with blue eyes. A stranger - not only to you, but to all your people. Only those of faraway lands had colored eyes…

A cold gaze, translucent and restless. 

Blue like water, like the sky.

And those blue eyes then saw you on the road and decided you were sympathetic. Blue eyes helped defeat the bandits. Thanks to these blue eyes, you are still alive and breathing.

You didn't even notice how your fingers slid along his forehead, combing the stray strands to the side.

"It was up to you whether my life would end or continue. Now it's my turn to return the favor." You whispered to him with a faint smile.

You had to tend to his wound as soon as possible - putting himself to sleep won't be enough to heal.

But with that, you had a problem – you couldn't know how he would react in his sleep if you started treating his wound. Judging from the previous ones, you didn't think it was worth prodding the sleeping bear…

No - not again, you didn't want him to tackle you down half-asleep, hallucinating.

You thought about leaving your hut again; finish getting the herbs for your order.

But you didn't want to run into any of the stragglers again. So what if this half-blood wakes up just when you're away; without a word vanishing before seeing him again one last time, or worse - your home could be destroyed even.

You decided that, in the absence of a better decision, you too would go to rest, even just for an hour or two - winding down the previous excitement and letting your wounds heal.

When her eyes opened again, she felt as if she were being tossed around by a gust of wind; the room spun around Mizu, the figures blurred, the lights stretched. She sat up with a painful groan, her eyes glazed down to her stomach, her sides burning like embers—a dull but convulsive and unrelenting pain raging inside.

So much for being guided by noble actions. Once guilt, compassion wins over her better knowledge and she's already slipping to the brink of death...

From which the herbalist brought her back, the one whom she saved.

Carefully scanning the room, Mizu confirmed to herself that the healer was sleeping lying on a sack, huddled together, small, almost lost in the surroundings. A holey cloth blanket covered their body, which barely covered their - bare legs and arms hung out, revealing the thin, red scratches they might have gotten during escaping.

Now both of them carried the mark of the events of that day on themselves - maybe forever. Another wound, another lesson for Mizu: if you help others, it only gets you into trouble.

This was also the curse of the herbalist. They bring medicine, rescue those in need, and what is their fate? People turn their backs on them, chase them away, leave them alone in a little hole they can call home. 

Predictably leaving them to both nature and man…discarded because nobody needs them.

Perhaps the two of them had more in common than she had first thought.

As Mizu tried to get up from her bed, another spasm shot through her body, crippling her muscles. Gritting her teeth - so as not to make a sound - she fell back to the ground realizing with a frustrated puff that she unfortunately had to stay there for a while.

"Still – as stagnant water." She grumbled to herself with a sigh.

The fire continued to blaze, the embers continued to glow - covering the two sleeping figures in warmth.

Maybe only for a short time - but until then; the destinies of the two were intertwined in the web of life.

[llotuspetals]

Authors note: YOYOYO it has been a while hasn’t it?

But as an apology I brought a gift! Neuvilette x f!reader! We all love a bit of angst don’t we? Also please read the end!

This does has spoilers for the Fontaine story quest so do proceed with your own caution!

Content warning: spoilers and hopefully sad

Tags: Neuvilette x f!reader, angst

Word count: 1,398

18.07.2024

Drowning in sorrow

He knew he shouldn't have said it, but he has grown exhausted from her constant nagging about his lack of time spent with her and how clingy she could be.

After all, Monsieur Neuvilette was a busy man. The Chief Justice couldn't abandon his work just because she wanted attention, even if she was his beloved. Fontaine only had him, the nation only had one protector! Especially after Furina gave up her life in the trial once it was revealed she wasn’t the true archon. And so the argument finally exploded in rain.

"Forget it, petit chou." Neuvilette spoke, his voice trembled from the cold rain yet it remained calm and aloof.

"If I knew this sooner, I wouldn’t have accepted this relationship."

she knew they were arguing but she didn’t know he was that mad. Her voice stopped screaming, her body frozen in place, her eyes widened. It seems that time has but frozen her in place, her feet rooted into the concrete ground.

She stood outside with him as the rain lashed down, soaking the two completely. Their hair was sticking to their faces, a stark contrast to their usual, well put together appearance.

As of right now she didn’t know that Neuvilette was the hydro dragon, meaning she didn’t know it only rained when he was unhappy.

She tried to respond but her voice gave no sound as she thought his harsh words.

Originally, she had come to surprise her love with a bouquet of flowers.

She was wandering the bustling streets of Fontaine and spotted a flower shop with fresh blue flowers. She immediately got to work piecing together baby blue lillie’s, soft white baby breaths, sky blue tulips and sapphire roses. It took the better half of her morning. But all that was worth it for her lover

She brought the bouquet of flowers to where she knew Neuvilette would be on his lunch break. However, after dealing with a headache of a case earlier that day, all he wanted was some peaceful alone time. And she didn’t get that did she? So she approached the white haired man and grinned dopely. She wanted to talk to him and spend some quality time before she handed him the bouquet, but he, in an annoyed tone, asked to be alone. She had thought she did something wrong, so she kept asking until he exploded on her.

Months of pent up frustration at her, at Fontaine, at the world was all dumped onto her. Before long the sky began crying with her. Of course, he could only let his frustration out on her, who else could he blame if not her? He knew that she meant well. She was a kind, loving person after all. Always putting others first, never asking for anything in return.

Which was probably the reason why he exploded. He was tired. Frustrated. The weight of responsibility had taken its toll on him, and he found himself snapping at you because she was the only one who would never snap back. And because he felt safe being vulnerable with her. He almost loathed how much she loved him, knowing full well that he didn't deserve it.

It wasn’t his fault! Centuries of frustration, anger and resentment was bound to explode one day or another. He was tired, overwhelmed. But she didn’t understand, why her?

She dropped the delicately packed bouquet behind her hand in shock. Or maybe it was in anger? And with that she whispered quietly, so quiet that if not for his heightened senses, he might’ve missed it. “I’m sorry…” and with that , she ran. She ran and she ran until she was somewhere new. She ran until her legs gave up on her. She collapsed under a large oak tree, and she cried.

He stood there speechless, he wanted to call out for her, he opened his mouth to, but no words came out. It was like an invisible force kept him from moving until she was out of his sight. The rain poured even harder than before, almost as if it were mocking him.

Ever since her teen years, she didn’t have much. Not much friends, not a lot of money or popularity, not enough attention and love. Maybe that was why she was so clingy? So demanding? Was this why no one stayed with her?

She knew that people all eventually leave, leave her to her own mind. She never had a single person last more than a decade with her, be it friend or lover. Maybe Neuvilette wasn’t any different? This brought her a weird sense of comfort. At least she could blame it on some sort of curse that was put upon her.

Soon she passed out under the tree from exhaustion. She was emotionally exhausted from their argument and physically from all her crying. Her body gave up due to lack of oxygen. She had curled up as a way to conserve heat. She slept under the tree soundlessly for the entire night as the rain raged on.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A few weeks passed and she avoided Neuvilette like the plague. It’s not like he was actively searching for her anyway. During a recent trial, a shocking discovery was made about the fact that Fontainians could dissolve in water from the Primordial Sea. She had assumed this was due to the fact that every Fontainian was born with “sin”.

Knowing that she was a true fontainian, knowing that no one can love her truly. She set out to seek for the deadly water. She searched and she searched, and finally, she discovered it thanks to an individual named “Marcel”. She paid good money for it. It was ironic, she paid for her death. She waited for a rainy day. That didn’t take long as Neuvilette himself was drowning in guilt.

On a particularly rainy day, she stood in her garden and looked up at the sky.

“Hydro dragon! Hydro dragon! Don’t cry!” the neighbourhood kids chanted happily as they splashed around in the water puddles.

“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon… don’t cry” she repeated with a smile, a smile that held everything but joy. Her voice was weak when she spoke. A once joyful and energetic young girl, who let nothing get her down. Finally took off her facade of a mask. She was tired of pretending that she wasn’t upset with everyone leaving. At least, this time she’ll be the first to permanently leave.

She sighed as she prayed for her reincarnated self to live a better life. She was never one for religion, but who knows? It’s the end of her life, she might as well. She pulled the cork out of the glass vial and poured it over her head, allowing it to coat her whole body. It burned, it stung and then…nothing.

She tried to scream but the water had already burned through her vocal cords. It was so painful yet before she could register the pain, it was gone. It felt blissful. Almost like a large weight was lifted off of her chest, a weight that was previously suffocating her. She felt free.

She wasn’t worried about her death, it’s not like anyone would come seeking for her anyway.

She joined the other young ladies that had died in this way. They all asked if she was the 23rd experiment. Experiment? No she died by her own will. And she was trapped in limbo for all of time, until the end of the universe.

Meanwhile in Fontaine, Neuvilette was standing outside her front door, a handpicked bouquet of pink baby breaths, white tulips and red lillie’s. Waiting patiently as he knocked on the door, not knowing there was no one to open the door for him. Not now, not ever again.

He also did not know, that he would be the one to fulfill the prophecy, drowning himself in sorrow and taking all of Fontaine with him. He looked up at the sky, and at the now underwater Fontaine. He stood at the highest peak of Fontainian architecture, watching buildings after buildings sink underwater along. The very nation he swore to protect. The nation he gave up his lover for, drowned with him.

“Ah…I’m tired” was the last words spoken by the silver haired man as the rain drowned the nation he used to love so dearly.

Do let me know how I did on this! I’m quite proud as of right now. (Ignore the bad quality gif)

Also, to shamelessly plug my own socials, I am a new Genshin content creator on TikTok, by account is @jjadepetals on TikTok. Please drop a follow if you can.

[celestiaras]

Hello! Since requests are open,may I request Elira Pendora x reader who’s a florist,it could be Sfw or NFSW I don’t mind!! :)

ft. elira pendora x f! reader — lazulight, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ eating you out under the counter of a flower shop┊0.5k words

contains: smut!! dom elira & sub reader┊public sex at a flower shop, florist reader, receiving oral, established relationship, rusty smut writing

➤ author's note: requests are actually closed, but i’ll make an exception because this idea stuck to my mind and wouldn’t let me write anything else (i’m so rusty from writing smut?? i feel like it’s not as good as it used to be, i need to work on that)

your eyes nervously followed klara as she wandered around the shop to pick out flowers for the manor, trying to distract yourself by arranging a commissioned bouquet on the counter and hoping to god that she wouldn’t notice you acting strange. she’s a regular customer and you aren’t sure how you would be able to look her in the eyes again if you were caught, yet you would be lying if the idea of it didn’t turn you on even more.

the cool air conditioning felt heavenly against your sweaty skin, however, it wasn’t half as heavenly as your girlfriend kneeling between your legs eagerly lapping at your cunt. there’s so much mischief sparkling in her heterochromic eyes, keeping herself and her actions as quiet as possible while looking up at you to remind you that you need to do the same. it’s so hard to maintain a steady voice when holding a casual conversation, sinful sounds getting caught in your throat as you try to convert them into words.

“the hydrangeas this season are lovely! lady twisty will love them, how much will that be?”

“that will be—” you paused for a second, feeling the dragon girl suck at your clit, recollecting yourself before telling her the price.

the maid tilted her head, puzzled without a clue about what was secretly going on right in front of her, “are you okay? you’re acting a little strange.”

“n-no! i’m just… i’m just kinda feeling under the weather today…” you fanned yourself with a hand, clenching your thighs around elira’s head in a failed attempt to make her keep still, yet it only made her more aggressive. she loved your reactions and efforts to suppress your lust, working her tongue in and out of your heat with determination to make this situation as difficult as possible for her enjoyment.

“oh, you should have said so, i’ll get out of your hair and drop off some soup later today! i hope you feel better soon!”

“thanks, klara!” your words came out all at once and sounded jumbled before letting out a sigh of relief when she finally left the shop, never thinking that you would ever be so happy to hear the bell attached to the door ringing. “lira, that was so risky! we almost got—”

she cuts you off with a scoff, pulling you closer to her face before making a show of sloppily eating you out as loudly as possible. even if no one was around right now, you felt embarrassed by how outright pornographic the sounds of slurping and squelching were mixed with your own cries. your fingers tangled with her light blue locks and your body buzzed with pleasure, rocking your hips against her and making a mess all over her face until you were finally still from climaxing.

looking down at her with half-lidded eyes, she giggled, using her finger to wipe off some of your slick from her beautiful face and sticking them into her mouth for a taste. you truly are sweeter than the scent of the flowers sold in this quaint little shop.