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illyrian-dreamer · 3 months

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And Then There Were None – Part 1

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 2>>>

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage

Twigs snapped beneath your boots, your steps heavy with exhaustion as you stumbled through yet another town, as barren and deserted as the last one.

Exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavy, wisps of dust caking your skirts, your boots the only thing to disturb the rubble in days.

There was no concern for a carriage that might pull up behind, or a bossy merchant to yell at you to clear the path. While the ghosts of the life that once flourished echoed in closed shops and abandoned stalls, you stopped looking over your back days ago.

There were no plumes of smoke from chimneys, no distant chatter or laughter or cries. Safe from the occasional grunts or mews of abandoned cattle - there was not a single sign of life, and no human in sight for the past ten days.

A jarring cramp ripped from your abdomen, pulling you from delirium with urgency.

Water, food, bathe and sleep. That was why you were here.

You tried not to think about how quickly resources were depleting, even though you were sure you were the only one using them. Without people to treat water, the stagnant liquid became increasingly dangerous. And you couldn’t farm a vegetable to save your life, and had spent too long journeying to have tended to any crops.

You’d have to go further into the woods soon, find a fresh stream, perhaps hunt too. But you'd need strength for that, and you had just about run out.

At least it was spring, and at least the trees bloomed with fruit as you travelled from town to town, feet blistered and chapped. You cursed you parents for not teaching you formidable survival skills - fighting, hunting, even the ability to ride a gods damned horse would have been an incomparable luxury these past hellish days.

A clang of guilt, and frustration quickly churned to longing. Gods, you hoped they were alive. You would do anything to have them here, to journey this devastating isolation together, the little ones too. You prayed to the Mother for the umpteenth time that day that they were safe and well.

It was not a concern when you woke to an empty house almost a fortnight earlier. Your father was likely at the market, your mother hard at work at the tailor in town. Your siblings were hard to catch at this time of year, with school out of term and the warm spring air, they would spend each waking moment by the river if your parents let them.

It wasn't until you spotted your fathers wheelbarrow through the speckled glass of your kitchen window, held by rotting wood. Empty and unmoved, his tools lay flat on the ground, untouched since the day before. You could have sworn he told you he’d be at the market by dawn.

Scanning the room, your eyes flicked to the doorway where your mothers workbag lay untouched. Needles sat poked in balls of yarn as stray thread sprawled over leather - but an eery stillness sang to you at your parent’s tools.

Names and calls went unanswered, and after a quick search of the home you ran outside, urgent to ask your neighbours where they had gone, your heart fastening with every step.

Too frantic to observe the lack of movement and noise from your own street, you rapped on the door, waiting only a few seconds to push the rattling screen and forcing your way in.

Names went unanswered again, and it was instinct that steered you straight for the nursery. You halted at the sight of new born's empty crib, blankets rippled as if the babe was taken straight from it’s sleep.

Your calls turned frantic as you scoured each room, an upsetting, looming sensation creeping over your skin.

Bursting from the home, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you scanned the street with urgency. Your only greeting was a quiet breeze and snort of a horse left abandoned by a cart - as if it had stopped it's journey halfway through.

In a panicked haze, you searched the next home, and the next, and the next. The dizziness found you then.

Clearly there was an emergency of some kind. But you had been abandoned, left to sleep until midday amongst the quiet. The thought pained you.

More calls to anyone who might have stayed behind, yet still no answer. Your heart was a thunder in your ears.

Had the war finally reached you? Had your family fled in the dead of the night? You shook the thought from your head – they would have woken you, would have needed your help to escape with the youngens.

And then you were running – yelling, sprinting through the dusty streets, voice breaking as you dashed from home to home, shop to shop, calling, crying, pleading.

You were utterly alone. You had been left there, alone.

In a swarm of panic, you pressed a palm at your heart, willing yourself to calm. It was a dream, surely. You were not abandoned, only stuck in a nightmare, the kind that often found you as murmurs of Hybern’s army reaching human lands became louder.

In that dizzying thought, you willed yourself awake, forcing your eyes open to the walls of your dark and cramped room, to the noises as your siblings shouting and playing from downstairs, to the whistle of the kettle and the creak of the wood as your father came to wake you.

But the light was blinding, the sun as true as the your abandonment.

Beads of sweat that ran down your neck, a gnawing anxiousness building in your stomach as it heaved and cramped, nausea and panic churning to one.

Something truly terrible had happened.

And in that moment of utter disbelief, a stabbing pain ripped from your stomach, so great it forced a whimper from your throat.

As silent trickles of blood ran from your thighs to your knees, tracing your calves beneath the fabric of your skirt, you found a numbing sort of courage. Pushing your legs forward, you mindlessly heeded the road out of your home town, and on to the next.

People. You needed to find people.

————

Ten days, and still not a single sole in sight. Each home, each tavern, each market and farm left eerily untouched.

The silence was enough to drive you mad, if not besides the aide you so desperately sought. This was not your cycle - although the pains were familiar. You had known what you were, what this was.

Almost a fortnight, yet the blood still came. Slower now, spotting instead of trickles. You had stolen clothing from abandoned shops, food and water too. But you were distraught, moments away from folding into utter madness. And you were weak – very, very weak.

Water, food, a bath and rest. A list you repeated to yourself, your body begging to prioritise sleep with every step as you approached a farm at the town’s edge.

With a weak hand, you pushed past the gate to the yard, large rusty barrels sat open where a cow and her calf now drank. The water was murky with a distinct smell, but it would have to do. Tomorrow, you’d find fresh water tomorrow.

The trembling hand that dipped to the cool water hardly looked like your own. Dirt lay thick under your nails, your skin littered with cuts from the countless times you had shattered windows of stores and traders homes, scouring the stock for preserved goods and weapons.

Bringing the cool liquid to your lips, you ignored the taste of iron as you willed it to soothe your throat - hoarse from the endless calls that went unanswered.

Ears pricking at sudden growl behind you, you jerked at the site of a pack of dogs who approached on stealthy paws. Their eyes were hungry - flicking between you and the calf. Once loyal farming dogs you were sure, now abandoned by owners and left to fend for themselves. They had formed packs - clever things. While you were sure they couldn't kill you, you didn't have the strength to fight an infection if they got close enough to sink their teeth.

From your side, you unsheathed the hunting knife you had looted from a previous town. Swinging it with unpracticed skill, you shouted at the pack, your heart thundering as you waited for them to recline on hindered paws and leap.

They pack seemed to weigh you up, deciding the calf was an easier target. You fled inside the house before you could see it meet it’s end.

The home was neat, and you almost cried at the sight of a loaf of bread sitting atop the kitchen counters. Mould had attacked it’s edges, but you tore at it, fisting mouthfuls of the centre, dry crumbs coating your throat it was an effort not to choke.

Your stomach lurched, unhappy with the quality of the food and water, but you didn't care. You were on step closer to rest.

Another jarring cramp from your stomach, and you faltered, gripping at the wooden table as you trembled to keep yourself upright. This ailment, how much longer would you last? Sleep begged at you, your body moments from giving out. You’d have to forgo the bath, and prayed to the mother you’d find the strength for it in the morning.

Forcing yourself to the bedroom, swaying with each stumbled step, consciousness was already slipping as you collapsed on the bed, clothes and boots in tact.

————

It was a feverish sleep, your body doused in sweat as you stirred often, jolting awake in panics, phantom calls of your family mixed with the flap of wings, and the crunch of stone and rock under heavy boots.

Then a voice, voices – ones you were sure they were part of your slumber.

But as those footsteps got closer, you woke in a startle, your heart fastened as you blinked furiously.

Voices. Humans. People. Alive, well enough to talk.

You leapt from the bed, ignoring the spin of your head as you clambered to the window, peering behind sheer drapes to the street in front.

Your stomach sank. Lurched. Then sank again.

A large, demonic figure stalked for the home. Wings arched behind it’s head, it’s figure blackened by the leathers it bore, sword and knives strapped around.

And, wisps of some kind. Deadly, reaping magic.

Fae.

Fae had come.

Knees buckling, you stumbled back a few steps.

The world around you reeled as adrenaline coursed through. You would have just moments to prepare if you wanted a chance to survive.

Knife. Your hunting knife. Still strewn at your hip.

Grasping it’s hilt tightly with a trembling hand, you scanned the room for the best place to hide.

The cupboard was too obvious, and there was room under the bed - but there’d be not enough to swing your knife, only enough for them to drag you by the ankle…

The gentle click of the front door opening, and it took all you had not to whimper in panic.

Scrambling for the door as quietly as possible, you pressed your palm to your mouth, begging yourself not to cry as you pressed yourself behind the wood.

From what you could hear over the thunder of your heart, the steps of the fae were quiet despite it’s size.

“Anything in there?” a deep voice boomed from the street. You jolted at the volume. More than one, then.

There was no reply from the creature in the home, only the creak of the wood as it made it’s way through.

“Really, Azriel? Are we to check every home?” Female this time, impatience and ignorance laced in the somehow ancient voice.

No response again, instead a footstep, right by the door.

Something tickled your ankles then, and it was beyond you to stifle your compulsive scream.

Black furling wisps coated your boots.

And then the door opened.

The creature made it one step inside before you had aimed your knife for it’s heart.

A prepared, cool hand caught your wrist inches from it’s chest. Your bones crushing in it’s grasp, and you let out a yelp of pain.

It’s face - his face - was one of shock. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, dropping his grip all together.

You blinked back in shock, ignoring at the throb of your wrist as you snatched it back.

For a dumb moment, you stared at each other with equally wide eyes. The male didn't seem to know what to do.

“You’re human? How are you here, where-?"

The males sentence was clipped short as you drove the knife towards his chest again.

Quick as an asp, he caught you by the forearm this time, more gently too.

Hazel eyes scanned you, his features schooling as he called over his shoulder. “I’ve found someone.”

You were sure you looked mad, grunting with the effort to pull your arm from him, breaths ragged, eyes and hair wild. The male studied you as he might a rabid animal.

Behind him appeared an even taller male, his form more terrifying than the one that gripped you.

“Mother above,” the new one whispered, scanning you in the way the first one had.

“L-let go of me,” you rasped, pulling your arm back, tears stinging at the pain of you surely broken wrist began to swell.

It was a odd detail to note, the scars and ripples of the fae’s hand as he gently unfurled your fingers, prying the hunting knife from you before releasing his grip.

“Let me see,” the female’s voice piped from behind, the males struggling to fold their wings further, cramming into the room to let her through.

You faltered back on instinct, legs hitting the edge of the bed.

As the female broke through the males, harsh silver eyes scanned you up and down. She was half their height, a little shorter than you actually, but the depth of her gaze kept your hands by your side.

“Seems the Mother has spared one after all,” she muttered, nose crumpling at your scent.

Your answered with a scowl.

“What is your name?” it demanded.

“Amren,” the taller male warned, his eyes flicking back to you with softness.

You refused to answer. Couldn’t if you wanted to.

Amren sighed, casting her head sideways to the one with rippled hands. “She bleeds.”

“I know,” he answered, hazel eyes not breaking from you. You blushed, furious and humiliated.

He stepped around her then, the movement graceful and soft despite his size.

“You need aide.”

You gulped, unable to process his words. “L-leave me be,” you demanded, voice hoarse as you tried to create more distance between you and it.

He crouched in front of you then, leathers stretching against ripples of muscle. You noticed them then, jewels, saphires, humming from his body as if they were alive.

He followed your eyes curiously, before answering you with a soft smile.

“These are siphons,” he said plainly, giving one a friendly tap.

You snapped your eyes back to him, disgust forming your features. “You are here on behalf of Hybern?”

The female snorted from behind, earning a shove from the larger male beside her, his siphons glowing red.

The one in front of you studied you. “No, absolutely not.”

You scowled, not inclined to believe them.

“We come one behalf of our High Lord Rhysand, and High Lady Feyre. Rulers of the Night Court. Do you know of them?”

Feyre - the human women who had freed the fae from the grasp of their enemy. You knew the story, the heroic tale of a human women who gave her life for the male she loved. Had heard of her triumphs Under the Mountain, that she had been made into fae herself in exchange for her sacrifice.

“The-the curse breaker?”

A small smile cocked on both of the males faces.

“That’s right,” the one crouched in front answered. “She sent us to retrieve you.”

A panic surged within you. “Me?” you spat. Oh the ignorance of the fae, as if you were some pawn to pluck and place elsewhere.

Azriel frowned, eyes dancing as he realised the mistake in his words. “To help you, of course. There has been-"

"No-n-no. My family, they will seek for me-"

Azriel's brow pulled with softness, his tone falling flat. "We will search for them. Meanwhile, you must see a-"

“Where are the others?” Your voice was louder now, eyes dancing in panic, chest rising with fastening breaths. Had they taken them too? “The people, they've left, I don't know-"

“We are searching for others. You are… the first we have found.”

Your mind reeled. How could that be? You had searched by foot - but with those wings, and the strength and power of fae…

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE OTHER HUMANS?” the volume of your voice shocked even yourself, that strength, that demand from deep within your chest.

Azriel gave you a pained look, before standing to turn to his counterparts. “Amren, can you heal-?”

“I’m spent,” she cut off the male with a flick of her fingers. “Those canines out back were hardly enough to keep me going until sundown, so forget about healing. Unless you suggest I drink her blood, though I doubt she’d survive.”

Mother above.

You were too hazed to see the glare both of the males cut her.

“Then she will need to see a healer before we can continue.”

“She might refuse,” the larger one countered.

“If she’s smart, she won’t. She won't survive out here on her own,” Amren muttered, cleaning her nails as she leaned one on leg, checking her cat-like claws for flecks of blood.

They continued their mutter without once turning to you.

“There is no option here. I’ll take her to Velaris, and return once she’s safe.”

A shaking, blubbering anger grew within you, the creatures in front of you as ignorant and obnoxious as you had always been told fae are – to discuss your own fate as if you weren't in the room.

A killer instinct flared in you then, and you remembered the second knife you bore, hidden within your corsette. A pocket knife, a tool from your father to help pit and peel the fruit from his farm.

The oak handle was cool in your left hand, the right throbbing and limp. With the last remains of energy, you pushed up from the bed, swinging with all your strength - aiming for the blue-siphoned back.

In a graceful turn, the male caught your arm for the third time. You had to blink at the speed with which he stopped you.

Bracing for cruel, unforgiving anger, you were instead met with sympathetic eyes.

Loathing coiled within you.

“Release me,” you spat.

“I’m sorry to do this,” was all he said, and then pads of those rippled fingers were grasping your jaw, pressing to the pressure points of your neck with precision.

Grunting to fight his grasp, you didn’t struggle long before a ringing in your ear grew to defeating silence and the world tipped to black.

Part 2 >>> AN: HELLLOOO! And welcome to ATTWN - massive shout out to @kindasleepywriter for finding the perfect name for this series! I so so hoped you liked part 1. I edited it like a million times, still not 100% happy with it, but I think I just needed to get it out. Fair warning - this fic won't be light hearted, our reader is going to go through some really heavy stuff. I'll of course put my warnings ahead of each part, but please know I plan to explore some darker themes surrounding mental health etc. If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, let me know in the comments! Always love hearing your feedback, and thank you so much for reading! <3 Nic

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billysgun · 5 months

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BILLY THE KID · requests are open! ·

sharpshooter

|fluff| billy takes you shooting

. . .

cherries

|smut| you and billy lose your virginity to each other

. . .

warm waters

|fluff|you and billy enjoy your new calm life with a hot bath

. . .

bandage

|fluff| after you found him wounded, you took him back to your house where you healed a very flirty billy.

. . .

teasing

|smut| being on the road means no privacy, and billy takes that risk with you against a random barn

. . .

hand holding

|smut| your perfect first time with billy as he passionately and softly shows how much he loves you

. . .

smitten

|fluff|billy is still love-sick for you with your new domestic life and baby boy

. . .

obscene

|smut|billy loses all control once he tastes you and vows to never leave your side

. . .

spinning

|fluff|billy isn’t afraid to sing his heart out to the girl he loves as he spins her around the kitchen

. . .

flowers

|fluff|you sit in a field of flowers with your baby girl as billy rides around his two favorite girls

. . .

baby making

|smut|you and your husband try for a baby as he slowly makes love to you at the break of dawn

. . .

chasing

|fluff| since you got pregnant, billy has been on edge for your well-being, so you decide to toy with him a little

. . .

jealously

|fluff|during a party for the house, you catch girls flirting with billy and can’t stand it, little do you know, billy feels the same way when he finds you talking to one of the members

. . .

lessons

|fluff| you watch your husband give your daughter her first horse riding lesson while you cheer with your newborn boy on your chest

. . .

kicking

|fluff| billy is making you breakfast, wondering how he got so lucky with you when your baby starts kicking

. . .

saving

|angst|billy comes and saves you when you’re kidnapped and beaten by a rival gang

. . .

sleepy

|smut| after a long day, the gang stops at a boarding house where billy sleepily fucks you

. . .

whiskey · pt 1

|fluff|you’re the daughter of billy’s boss, you’re filthy rich and had eyed billy a while ago. and this night, you decided to follow him to the saloon.

liquor · pt 2

|smut| billy finds himself undressing the richest girl in town, and decides to teach her a lesson

. . .

mornings

|fluff| a slow morning with your newborn and husband

. . .

sneaking

|fluff| on a cloudy morning, you and billy sneak behind the barn to steal kisses from each other

. . .

birth

|stress + fluff|billy tries to talk you through giving birth while you wail in immense pain

. . .

your girl

|fluff| Ciara is a childhood friend turned lover one drunken night…he lives with the consequences daily and now, with his eyes set on you, you do too.

. . .

lone prairie

|fluff|billy softly sings you to sleep while running his fingers through your hair

. . .

gingerbread

|fluff|It’s christmas day and you’re panicking to make the perfect gingerbread men…while Billy goofs and teases around you

. . .

breathtaking

|spicy fluff| the house is throwing a party and you, a cowgirl with only a father and too many brothers to count, shows up in a breathtaking dress

. . .

loyal · pt 1

|angst| during the fight against murphy, you find out you’re pregnant with billys child, and now you see where his loyalties lie

forgiveness · pt 2

|fluff|billy finds you after you ran from the gang, and falls apart in your arms

. . .

caress

|fluff|billy slowly brushes his fingers through your hair as you start to drift off into sleep

. . .

ache

|fluff|billy cuddles you to help with your cramps

. . .

quiet

|smut|you and billy have sex for the first time since the birth of your baby girl, and you have to keep your needy moans quiet so she won’t wake

. . .

bite · pt 1

|spicy fluff| vampire!billy has been watching you for a while now. and one night at the saloon, you decide to meet your shadow

blood · pt 2

|smut|you become irresistible to vampire!billy after he claims you, and he can’t seem to control himself when around you

crave · pt 3

|fluff|as you walk home with billy by your side, you run into another vampire and billy protects you

eternity · pt 4

|fluff ending|as billy feasts on you, he unknowingly turns you into a vampire

. . .

braid

|fluff|billy helps relax you and your growing baby by braiding your hair before bed

. . .

bad dream

|comfort|billy holds you after a nightmare about him dying

. . .

limp

|fluff|you falling asleep in billy’s arms

. . .

run away

|fluff| you run away with billy from your disapproving father

THE HUNGER GAMES

· finnick odair ·

sponsors

|fluff| you're allying with finnick during the quarter quell when a sponsor sends a delicious sauce for the fish finnick caught.

TWILIGHT· requests are open! ·

· edward cullen ·

woven

|fluff|edward sneaks into your bedroom like always. but this time, you ask him to hold you

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leclerc-s · 7 months

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i did something bad - part two

THE CHARLOS BREAK UP

masterlist//previous//next

BRAZIL 2023

daniel ricciardo please tell me charles did not get into an argument with carlos.

teagan horner charles did not get into an argument with carlos. carlos got into an argument with him, two very different things.

max verstappen what was the argument even about?

charles leclerc doesn't matter it was bullshit.

mark webber clearly not, if you two came to blows.

pierre gasly carlos said he was shit driver and and that he only had the red bull seat because he was 'fucking horner's slut daughter' or that was the tailend of what i heard.

pierre gasly not to mention he punched teagan in face because she stood in front of charles hoping to stop the situation.

alex albon well i'll be damned.

yuki tsunoda so we all follow that one gossip account? because i know none of you were near when this happened.

liam lawson i do. how else am i supposed to find out that fernando alonso was visited by taylor swift last week in austin? daniel ricciardo it's fun to follow them. one time they said max and i were hooking up, we weren’t, but i liked the tweet to fuel them more. pr was not happy that week.

mark webber christian's been awfully quite this entire time.

max verstappen we're planning on how to torpedo into carlos in brazil. i'm the sacrifice because i've already won the championship. checo perez he supposed to fail at getting pole position in quali next week to end up behind carlos. sebastian vettel pulling a kvyat i see, i respect it max verstappen the only time i'll do something like kvyat. yuki tsunoda HE PUNCHED TEAGAN?! WHAT THE HELL?? WHERE IS THIS MAN?!

liam lawson yuki, think about your actions. charles is getting fined for what you’re thinking about doing (i think)

yuki tsunoda do i look like i give a fuck?

pierre gasly we ride at dawn!

mark webber you two are perfect for each other

sebastian vettel YOU’RE IN A MEETING GET OFF YOUR PHONE GASLY!!!

yuki tsunoda that should be your sign gasly, come back to alpha tauri! daniel can take your seat at alpine

daniel ricciardo hell no. i saw what they did to my fellow aussie, oscar. do you think i wanna get sued by them?

teagan horner we’re back, carlos is still pissed but so is my dad.

mark webber how’s your face after that punch?

teagan horner i have a sick black eye. i look like i got in a bar fight. i got the proper texas experience. christian horner this isn't a laughing matter teagan. you could've been seriously hurt. sebastian vettel he's right teagan, it could've escalated to something worse. max verstappen so is the plan still on to crash into carlos or not?

charles leclerc not, i want to do it. who gives a fuck on where i end up in the drivers championship, i'm already p7. let me do it brocedes style.

daniel ricciardo ah, 2016 spainsh grand prix, those were good days.

sebastian vettel you got p4 and max won daniel ricciardo they were good days because both mercedes dnf'd

max verstappen he won't do it

sergio perez i'll gladly help, we can have a repeat of yesterday.

charles leclerc deal and sorry about that, again.

sergio perez it could've happened to anyone, besides it was my fault

alex albon so...talk about a dramatic brazilian gp

lewis hamilton why is it always thing 1 or thing 2 starting the awkward conversations? lando norris they have nothing better to do alex albon listen here you muppet!

logan sargeant (i'm so sorry lewis) it's giving brocedes 2.0

nico hulkenberg be grateful you weren't around then sargeant. those were dark times.

lewis hamilton i feel like you're being a little dramatic about it.

kevin magnussen we aren't. everyone walked on eggshells because of you two. toto could never seem to catch a break.

fernando alonso it seems you're the old one lewis, if your memory is failing already.

lando norris kinda surprised it took this long for those two to go at it a la brocedes

charles leclerc i was sandwiched, what was i supposed to do? crash into checo for the second time in a row?

carlos sainz not crash into me. you had no problem crashing into sergio last week.

charles leclerc well, checo is the one retiring this year, not you. you'll have plenty more races.

carlos sainz since when do you call him checo?

carlos sainz and i was on pole! i could've won!

max verstappen at charles' expense no less

george russell "horrified looks from everyone in the room"

daniel ricciardo i don't know if i should be impressed that you know taylor swift lyrics lance stroll coming from the guy who sang our song in an interview word for word last month. daniel ricciardo at least i wasn't the one spamming the groupchat with taylonso memes

lewis hamilton how did this become the mess it has?

fernando alonso this is the only time i will ever wish sebastian was still driving. at least he could control these baboons.

nico hulkenberg who are you calling a baboon, nando?

fernando alonso if the shoe fits, nico, if the shoe fits

LAS VEGAS 2023

pierre gasly i will be throwing hands with fred and the rest of ferrari’s f1 team, starting with carlos.

alex albon but we gotta give charles credit, defying team orders the way he did in vegas? respect, it further proves ferrari would keep sacrificing his race even if he was on pole and leading the majority of the race.

liam lawson what did we expect? it's ferrari, and that strategy was a shit one, even i know that. charles had been leading for 35/50 laps and they wanted him to let carlos through? who was down in p6? yuki tsunoda ferrari has shit for brains pierre gasly and it's not like carlos would've been able to make it past checo, oscar, danny, and max to get the win. in the end, lando and alex overtook him, alex who's in a williams! you would've given me a few more laps and i could've overtaken him.

daniel ricciardo also, rumor has it that piero ferrari is like super pissed they let charles go.

mark webber of course he’s pissed, charles was their golden boy, he won monza. the first to do so since 2010 when fernando had won.

liam lawson i think the biggest fuck you to ferrari would be having charles win both monza and imola

sebastian vettel i like this kid, where did christian find you?

pierre gasly outside of yuki’s home. he picked him up by the scruff of his neck and said, “i want you to be our reserve driver at alpha tauri” liam lawson he found me in a dumpster outside of his home. sebastian vettel i hate both of you

teagan horner i thank god everyday that there is only one race left until the season is over

¡leclerc-s speaks! would carlos ever act like this? probably not, doesn't mean i'm going to stop writing it this way. i think people react in different ways when they're hurt and unfortunately in this fic carlos is lashing out. don't worry, i'm going to fix their relationship, just not for now, i like drama. would any of these events happen irl, no way, but what's the fun in fanfic if you can't exaggerate events at least a little?

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #i did something bad series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc

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cowboypunkcolt · 9 months

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YEEHAGUST Days 1-5 1: Gather the Posse 2: We Ride at Dawn 3: Wanted Poster 4: Hold Your Horses 5: Stampede

#art #yeehawgust #cowboy #horse #bison #hare

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 26 days

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Yandere coworker (part 11)

Tw: afab reader, this chapter is just some fluff and exhibiting a softer side of this problem man

Masterlists, part 1, part 12

All eight of you ordered the steak. Therefore, eight identical dishes were presented in front of everyone.

When it arrived, Cyprus spent no time cutting his slab into smaller pieces while chatting amicably with his friends. You wonder what for, because he usually eats larger chunks as he has a bigger mouth.

You began eating your fries and vegetable sides first, not wanting to tackle the meat. You're too mentally exhausted to work on it.

But before you could pick up your next fry, Cyprus swapped plates with you and you felt a sense of deja vu wash over. The meat was perfectly cubed to your bite size.

"Damn it, you ate most of my fries." He mumbled, stabbing the steak with his fork and slicing through it with his knife.

Your brain was on automatic, so you apologized and immediately transferred some of your chips over to his. Not realizing that you never asked him to cut the beef up for you and this technically wasn't your plate that you ate out of.

You're just too tired. Too tired to notice that he said, "Thanks, princess." As he pecked you on the temple and stroked you on the head.

Too tired to realize that you weren't acting mean towards Cyprus, proving his friends' point about how you're wonderful for him and you're not someone Cyprus should dump.

Neither of them mind that you were suddenly deathly quiet. As Cyprus had explained to them earlier that you tend to shut down after having too much social interaction for the day. They looked at Cyprus as if he grew two heads when he mentioned about your "social battery", because they considered that term as some sort of internet nonsense and your boyfriend is the last person they expect to unironically use it. Initially, it was embarrassing for Cyprus, but eventually he explained it enough for everyone to understand.

The women gush over how romantic it was that Cyprus cuts your steak up for you without hesitation or much thought. It's so natural for him to treat you like royalty. In turn, pressuring the men to do that for their girlfriends too.

The dinner went by uneventfully. Cyprus brought you back home earlier and ate the rest of your leftovers because you didn't feel like eating it anymore.

You couldn't really remember what else happened, nothing much must have taken place between the ride home and the time where you found yourself snuggling into his chest as you dozed off.

"Wake up."

You groggily grumbled, flinching when Cyprus blew air into your ear. You tried pushing him away, but he simply chuckled and groped all over your body.

"Good morning to you too, beautiful. Now, get up. We're going on a date." He whispered, learning not to overwhelm you this early in the morning. The last time he spoke in a voice too loud and upbeat at the crack of dawn, you burst into tears.

You whined, saying it's too early and it's a Saturday, you want to sleep in. Frowning, you wished Cyprus's energy levels matched yours, he would have made a much better boyfriend then.

"I want to smoke."

You told him to go ahead, because you want to sleep.

"I want to fuck you stupid."

You picked your head up and tiredly opened an eye. You told him no way, but you fell into his trap instead. He encased your lips in a passionate kiss, he must have just woken up too as it was sloppier than usual. But it was enjoyable nonetheless as you knew he had plenty of practice before you.

His large hands rubbed all over your body, snaking them under your (Cyprus's) oversized T-shirt and under the band of your underwear.

He pulled away when your thrashing began to get out of hand, signalling that you're running out of breath. But he didn't retract his hands this time, instead choosing to hold you close to him.

You panted and struggled to keep your heartbeat below the maximum while he hugs you as if you're his beloved stuffed toy.

"I want to get to know you more..." He murmured. There was a sense of softness and yearning in his purr, his fingers got to work soothingly carding your hair.

You said he knew everything there is to know about you. And he deems everything else as a side effect of your internet addiction.

"You never really talked about your friends." He drawled.

You remained silent, waiting to see where this conversation goes.

"I'm starting to think you don't have any." He sniffed your hair. "God, you smell good."

You said you do have friends, Cyprus is stealing you away from them. You pulled away from his hold, which was surprisingly lax and rolled to the end of the bed, furthest away from Cyprus.

"Oh yeah?" He propped his head up by an elbow while lying on his side, staring at you as the singular ray of sunshine coming from a gap between his curtains illuminated his face. You would never admit that he's extremely handsome without his glasses.

"Why don't you get texts and calls from them, then? I've been waiting to pick one up and tell them that you're busy with me." A grin made its way to his lips, fantasizing about how your hypothetical friends would freak out over the news of you having a boyfriend. Cyprus just likes letting the world know that you're his pretty girl.

You said that they have a life and they couldn't check up on you all the time. He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Really? Not even a "Look what I found" text? Not even a "This reminded me of you"?" His free hand found its way to your hips, tenderly caressing it up and down. "You're such a loser." He teased with a carefree smile on his attractive face.

You gulped, not knowing what to say. Cyprus gets calls from his friends regularly and actually cares about him. They want him around just because they love him as family.

You? Usually your friends (actually, colleagues) contact you if they want something out of you or to brag about their life when they couldn't find anyone else to be their emotional sponge or for some political reason.

His words made you reflect on your life. You don't think you have anyone you trust to help you out when times get tough in this city. Ironically, Cyprus would have been the first person you would call to get you out of trouble, because you have a strong belief that he would help you without hesitation no matter how much you think that he's an asshole.

You sunk your head deeper into his pillow, can't think of anything else to say to him without admitting you're more of a loser than you thought.

You wished you had your phone right now to pacify you and distract yourself from confronting the reality that your life isn't that great.

You saw Cyprus's eyebrows raise and knitted itself in concern. He scooted closer to you and cupped your cheeks.

"Did I reopen a wound? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like crap. Don't cry, doll. Come here." He opened his arms and invited you in an embrace.

Don't cry? You were confused why he said that until you began to sniffle and the tickle of your tears was registered in your mind.

Embarrassed, you buried your head in his chest to hide your teary mess of a face from him. Cyprus wrapped his arms around you tightly, cooing about how it's okay and he loves you.

"I took a joke too far, I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to come off as a judgmental asshole." He mumbled in your hair before kissing you on the crown of your head.

You progressed to pathetic sobs, the reality that you don't have anyone is dawning on you. And it's horrifying to accept.

You never knew what reaction you would get from him whenever you cried. Most of the time, he would brush it off as an insignificant, silly little tantrum. Sometimes he would drop everything just to comfort you, like right now. Perhaps he could feel that he actually hurt you a lot.

He slowly got up, bringing you up with him. Cyprus then rose to his full height, carrying you with an arm supporting your rear and your legs wrapping around his torso. You clung onto him, fearing that he might drop you and not wanting him to see you still weeping and vulnerable.

"Let's get ready for our date." He gently bounced you up and down, patting your back while he walked out of the bedroom. Of course, not before retrieving his glasses from the nightstand.

You sighed and sagged, there is no way you could worm out of this. So you asked him where he was planning on taking you.

"There's this farmer's market I've wanted to go to for a while now. I think you're going to love it there. I know I will, since you're going to be with me." He opened the door to the bathroom. Cyprus gently sets you down on the cold tiles, making you frown in discomfort.

He smiled at you, his bed head making him look less well kept than usual. It's charming in its own right.

"You can make hell seem like heaven by just being there." He ruffled your already messy hair. "You're so fun to be with, you know that?"

He bent down and pecked you on the lips, hushing you when a gush of tears started flowing again. Cyprus took the time to wipe them off with his thumbs.

"Go on, get ready. I'll be preparing breakfast for the both of us and I'll come back in ten minutes to check up on you."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping your face with your hand.

Satisfied, he kissed you on the forehead. "Crybaby."

He pulled away, only to dive back in to give you another kiss on the lips. "But you're my crybaby. Remember that."

He laughed when you tried hitting him and missed.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader #tw afab reader #afab reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #oc cyprus #yandere content

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pogueswrld · 8 months

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*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

#fred weasley #weasley twins #bill weasley #george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #plus sized reader #harry potter #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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ladywuvly · 2 months

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♱ love bites pt.1 (vampireslave!simonriley x princess!f!reader)

summary|| The world stands divided, witnessing the dawn of a fierce civil war between mankind and vampires. Since the day you were born, your father, the king, has dedicated his life to mastering the art of manipulating the masses. However, his relentless pursuit of power has overshadowed everything else. Nevertheless, when a pale-faced servant is introduced into the castle, an inexplicable connection draws you towards him. wc: 6.8K

warnings|| MDNI; 18+ content, violence + mentions of, blood, swearing, abuse, slavery, child neglect, human trafficking.

masterlist. socials. recs.

It was the day of your birthday, a day that should've brought you joy and excitement. Yet, it wasn't as if turning a year older, granted you any additional control or responsibility over your own life.

Instead, you found yourself trapped in this house castle you called home. Surrounded by a series of unfamiliar faces, royal servants, and a new tutor every few months.

Isolated from the other children your age, a burning desire for freedom consumed you, as you watched them get the life you wanted; the life you yearned for.

While they were allowed to live freely, you were imprisoned inside this mansion. Locked away in your bedroom, walls covered in lavish decor. Shelves and dressers filled with things you rarely used - makeup and perfumes rarely touched, dresses and linens you dreaded to even wear.

You were merely a marionette, dressed up and down, manipulated at your parent's whim, while others turned a blind eye at your misery.

Although, what did you expect, you were a princess after all.

Marianne suddenly entered your bedroom. Crossing the threshold gracefully with her eerie ambiance of mystery and allure.

Marianne had been your mother's handmaid for as long as you could remember. She had been a gift to your mother, from your father, long before you were born.

Flawless porcelain skin and deep captivating red eyes that set her apart from the rest of the other servants around the castle.

Time seemed to have no effect on her. She had not aged a single day in all of your years. Frozen in time at the age of 26, and was, considerably, the only consistent part in your life.

Marianne laid out a dress for you. Placing it down carefully on your bed as she continued to busy herself around your bedroom.

Your head turned at the sound of her voice and you looked up at her sympathetically. "Do I have to go?"

Leaning back as her hands playfully combed through your hair, fingers gliding smoothly through your freshly brushed strands.

"It's best to get it done and over with." She said calmly.

As you made your way down the stairs, you took a moment to calm yourself before entering the dining room sheepishly.

Your father was seated at the head of the table, your mother beside him.

Catching sight of you, he swiftly fished his pocket watch from his coat. "You're late. I don't have the time to wait for you."

You followed your father outside to the waiting carriage. Accepting the kind hand offered by Louis, your chauffeur, and settled into the comfortable seats.

The ride dragged on, perhaps it was on account of what awaited you, upon your arrival. It baffled you at how things had reached this point.

Once the existence of vampires was revealed to the world, they were immediately labeled as a threat. Dangerous creatures of the night that lurked amongst the shadows. Monsters hiding among men.

On contrary to popular belief, they didn't burst into flames when exposed to sunlight. They weren't threatened by garlic, or crosses, or holy water. They didn't die from a stake to the heart and they were certainly not undead.

Although, they appeared pale in complexion, possessed immense strength and heightened senses, and required a dietary supplement of blood to survive.

It would be unfair to label them as monstrous, and you refused to believe this was the only way to live alongside them. They had once been people, just like you were. They experienced emotions and suffered pain.

Sure, it was different from the typical ways of the 'living' world. Still, that didn't justify enslaving their entire race.

It was argued that it was the only method to ensure humanities safety. Claiming that without it you’d be vulnerable, unprotected. Nevertheless, you wouldn't embrace the idea that this was the sole approach to a harmonious existence.

Soon the carriage came to a halt and your father got out. You peered out from behind him, surveying your surroundings before stepping onto the muddy road.

You trailed behind him into the building, entering a large auditorial room where the auction would be taking place. That familiar nauseous feeling swirled in your stomach as he led you to your seats near the back of the audience.

You anxiously looked around the room, taking in every detail. Within a matter of moments another man strode across the stage, approaching the podium.

The room became silent in anticipation as he began to speak. His words fell deaf to your ears, drowned out by the unsettling start of the auction.

Your eyes remained fixed on the stage. Witnessing as one after another, was forcefully brought out.

Both men and women, hands bound and feet shackled, appeared before the crowd. Some looked more heavily mistreated than others.

What disgusted you even more was the lack of empathy displayed by those around you, not even flinching as each individual was auctioned off to the highest bidder.

The sight was repulsive, and you couldn't bear to raise your bidding paddle held tightly in your hands.

As the auction began to come to an end, your father seethed at you through his barred teeth. "If you do not bid, I will do it for you."

Reluctantly, you shifted your gaze back to the stage, as another man was being dragged out.

He stood with an imposing height. Towering over the both men who held him captive at either side. His shoulders wide, and the shirt he wore did a poor job at concealing the dried blood and dirt that clung to his pale skin.

Your eyes couldn't help but linger on him, captivated by his presence. Despite his greasy blonde hair that fell over his eyes impedingly, it didn’t mask the strong features of his face.

He pulled away from the man on his right, earning a painful kick to the back of his legs that sent him collapsing onto his knees.

With his hair serving as a makeshift restraint, his head was raised. Lifting his chin defiantly, revealing his face in all its glory to the many interested onlookers among the audience.

His appearance was striking and as strange as it seemed, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. His rugged face, marked by dirt and blood, still possessed an undeniable beauty.

Soon bids were being placed, and although the thought of purchasing this man in front of you seemed unfathomable, you couldn't resist impulsively raising the paddle high into the air.

"13,000! 13,000 for..oh, and well if it isn’t the Princess herself, ladies and gentleman!" The entire room turned their attention from the auctioneer to you, causing you to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

As you looked back at the stage, the man's gaze locked with yours. His eyebrows furrowed harshly and he shot you a piercing glare causing your heart to ache.

"He's going to be difficult to break in." Your father disgruntled.

"You told me to bid."

"13,000, going once! Going twice! Sold to our Majesty and the Princess!" Your father rose from his seat, you instinctively followed. Waving and smiling as the men and women in the crowd erupted in applause.

As you glanced back at the stage, a wave of dread washed over you as you watched them forcefully drag the man away and out of your sight. Sorrow-filled, you tore your gaze away and hurriedly followed in his footsteps.

As he stood by the reception desk, meticulously filling out paperwork and a bill of sale. Your attention was drawn to the two familiar men who had been escorting individuals on an off stage.

They seemed to be engaged in a conversation with your father, he discreetly offered them a few coin each, before he turned and handed you a pen.

"What’s this for?" You ask, your voice filled with uncertainty. "Ownership papers." His reply caused you to freeze.

It was hard to believe that this was actually happening. You would be this man's owner. He would become your possession.

"Father… I-I'm not sure if I can-" You stammered, your voice trembling.

"That's enough." He said, silencing you.

It was astonishing, how effortlessly your father made you remember just how easy it was to hate him. He had managed to portray this as nothing more than a point of sale, stripping away all humility.

Swallowing down your tears, you leaned over to hastily scribble your signature at the paper’s edge. Every letter and each stroke of the pen, another stab wound to your heart.

You dropped the pen as if it had burned you, walking out of the building and leaving your father inside.

As you caught your breath out on the sidewalk, a laughing bunch of children dashed by you. Joyfully passing a vibrant red rubber ball amongst each other.

Their contagious laughter brought a fleeting smile to your face, but it soon faded as rearing envy flooded your chest. You longed to once be part of their innocent joy.

Your father appeared from behind you and as the carriage arrived he promptly took his seat without bothering to spare you a glance.

You took a moment to look for where they might have placed the man of such impending size. It would be difficult to hide a man of his stature, even on something as grand as the royal carriage.

As you glanced at Louis. He met your gaze before casting his eyes behind him towards the rear.

You cautiously approached the back of the carriage, stealing a glance around the corner to catch a small glimpse of him.

There he was, shackled securely to the luggage rack sitting upright on the short, compact shelf.

You swiftly glanced over your shoulder, ensuring that your father hadn't caught you gazing inquisitively at the cryptic man.

"Princess?" A gravely, somber voice broke the silence.

Startled, you jumped in surprise caught off guard by the sudden sound. Turning back to face the man who remained bound in place.

You approached him cautiously, his appearance became even more unsettling. Although his face remained somewhat concealed, the deep scars that were etched into his skin were too distracting to ignore.

The long jagged scars that scattered across his face. Remnants of a past wound ran across his nose. His face, a roadmap of strength and survival.

Cutting deeply over his lips like a badge of honor. Saw-toothed and jagged, narrowly missing his eye, dividing his eyebrow and cheek with a single stroke, which only added to his allure.

Each scar, a testament to a life lived, resiliently.

Your eyes welled up with tears, brimming and threatening to overflow. The feeling of self-disgust washed over you, utterly ashamed at what you had done. The depths you had sunk, purchasing him as if he were mere property.

"Everythin’ a’right there, Princess?" His voice was hoarse and deep, sending a shiver down your spine. Never before had the sound of someone's voice evoked such a whirlwind of emotions within you.

"Don’t call me that." You snapped, feeling far from deserving of such a title. At the moment you felt nothing like a princess. A princess was strong, courageous, and compassionate, someone who helped others, not oppressed them.

He seemed familiar with the tone of your voice and with a stern expression turned to look away. "No! I-I’m sorry. I just… I just hate being called that." You stammered.

"Then wha' is it I call you?"

Your ears hummed in pleasure, as he played with your name a few times under his breath.

"And you? What shall I call you?" You asked him nervously.

"Anythin' you please." He gazed at you intensely, causing you to shyly glance down at your hands.

"No, I want to know your name." You insisted, shaking your head.

"Simon." He stated sharply.

"Simon…" You repeated, before anxiously biting your bottom lip. Mesmerized, you couldn't tare your eyes away from his intense crimson gaze as it slowly drifted down to your mouth.

The sudden sound of your father's voice calling your name caused you to gasp, releasing your flushed lip. Shattering the moment, you turned your attention towards the front of the carriage.

Glancing back at the mysterious man. "I’m sorry, I’m truly so sorry." You panicked, stepping away, rushing to take your seat.

As you made your way back to the castle, the ride was filled with an eerie silence.

Once you’d arrived home and stepped out of the carriage, the sound of jingling chains caught your attention.

Your father disappeared into the castle, leaving you alone with Simon. Watching as Louis released him from his restraints.

You couldn't help but feel the stir of curiosity and anger emanating from his gaze, freezing you in place.

Perhaps it was the countless years of torment he endured, that over time had hardened his natural state.

He stood tall, towering over your own figure. He was incredibly intimidating, and with each passing minute, the thought of fleeing became increasingly tempting.

Simon possessed an imposing build, with muscles that commanded attention. His blonde hair was too long and unruly, but that only added to his overall delphic demeanor.

However, his facial hair proved to be quite distracting, diverting the attention from his striking features.

His tattered clothing barely held together, falling apart at the seams, while his feet remained bare.

Your boots protected your feet from the sharp gravel stones, and although you were aware that he didn't experience pain in the same manner as you did, it still must’ve been somewhat uncomfortable. His overall appearance upset you.

"I’m sorry." You mumbled softly, casting your gaze downwards in shame.

"You keep apologizing."

He sounded annoyed, angry, his tone filled with irritation.

"I don't know what else to say." Closing your eyes to keep the tears at bay. With a shake of your head and a sniffle, you took a deep breath to compose yourself.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the splintered rock caught your attention. You turned to see Marianne as she made her way towards you.

It only took a call of your name for you to run to her. Enveloping you into her warm embrace, cradling your head into her chest.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of emotions you broke down, no longer strong enough to hold back your tears. Sobs racked through your throat, causing your shoulders to tremble with each wail of grief.

In that moment, Simon's presence faded into the background. With tender gestures and the gentle stroking of your hair, Marianne comforted you. Her soothing words reassured you, easing your tears.

"Louis?! Louis?!" Marianne's voice rang out, beckoning the man who had disappeared for only a moment.

"What has happened?!" He exclaimed angrily, his accusatory gaze fixated on Simon.

"He’s done nothing." Marianne interjected, her voice calm yet firm. "You're well aware of the princess's nature."

Simon remained stuck in place, utterly surprised at your sudden outpour of emotion.

Throughout his years, he had encountered countless young women, but witnessing, a princess of all people, weeping uncontrollably in the embrace of someone who, by all appearances, shared his vampiric nature, seemed unfathomable.

Marianne regarded Simon with an inscrutable expression, her gaze impossible to decipher. "Louis, escort him to the bathing chambers. See to it that he is cleaned and attired appropriately before bringing him to the princess's quarters. We shall await his arrival there."

She instructed, gently tugging at your weeping form as she led you towards the grand castle.

"Goodness Marianne, it was absolutely awful." You said once you had distanced yourself from the men, finding the courage to explain yourself.

"They were all beaten and chained, some of them so weak they couldn't even stand on their own. It's sickening that I participated in such a thing. Heavens, I bought a man."

Tears continued to stream down your face as she guided you indoors. "It's alright now, my dear, don’t worry. All is well. Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Simon squeezed into the porcelain tub, sinking comfortably against its back with his arms draped over the sides. He’d cut his hair, shaved his beard, and meticulously scrubbed all the dirt off his scarred skin, leaving it free from any traces.

As he indulged in the soothing warmth of the water, his mind wandered back to you.

Your wide tear-filled eyes that glistened as you looked up at him. Lashes that appeared fuller as they clung together from the tears cascading down your flushed cheeks.

The remembrance of your disheveled state, stirred a sense of melancholy deep within him.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he submerged himself beneath the water's surface.

Despite the fact that Louis had provided Simon with the largest clothes he could find. With his impressive height and broad build, they still seemed to be slightly too snug for his frame.

The shirt appeared to be undersized. It fell short, just below his hips, and was a bit snug around his shoulders. On the other hand, the old pair of boots that were given to him fit perfectly.

Louis guided him through the castle and when they finally reached your door, Louis left him standing in the hallway. Simon stood there for a moment unsure about what might lay beyond the door.

Sitting in your usual spot by the window, your lace-up heeled boots lay untied on the floor beside you. Sensing a change in the room, you turned around, anticipating Marianne. However, you were surprised when you saw Simon approaching.

Finally, with his hair cut short and his face clean-shaven, you could catch a glimpse of his true self. Though, his presence seemed so estranged in your feminine room.

You stood up, suddenly anxious. Yet, his height startled you and you took a clumsy step back, accidentally hitting the wooden bench with your heel, causing you to awkwardly plop down onto your rear end.

As soon as Marianne stepped in, you quickly stood back on your feet. Gently smoothing down the fabric of your skirt, attempting to alleviate the shakiness of your hands.

Simon obediently sat down into a chair not too far from him upon Marianne's request, and you gracefully resumed your own seat as well. Simon found it peculiar how willingly you followed Marianne's instructions.

"Simon, you are not t- Marianne..." You interjected, cutting her off.

From the moment you entered your bedroom, you had made it clear that she was not to address him in the same manner as the other servants.

Marianne let out a sigh before starting again. "Hello, Simon. My name is Marianne, the queen's lady-in-waiting. However, for all practical purposes, I have been taking care of the princess since she was a young girl."

Simon glanced back and forth between the two of you, catching your gaze as you observed him from your perch by the window.

"To ensure a seamless transition, there are just a handful of guidelines you need to adhere to." She informed him.

"Firstly, you will be residing in the servant chambers. Louis will assign you daily tasks to keep you occupied. Once you complete your duties, you are free to engage in any activities of your choice. Feel free to explore the castle grounds, take care of the animals and crops, or anything else that keeps you busy." She continued.

"However, you must always be attentive to the Princess herself. For you are to be devoted to her." Simon glanced in your direction, immediately catching sight of your somber expression, despite your attempts to hide it from him.

"It is strictly prohibited to enter the west wing of the castle. The library and ballroom, on the other hand, can be accessed with prior permission from the king, queen, or the princess." She finished.

After she’d gone over a few more things she’d eventually excused herself.

Once Marianne left your bedroom, you followed her to the door, closing it behind her. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you turned back to face Simon.

Marianne had encouraged you to make an attempt at talking with him. It wasn’t everyday a pale fresh face was introduced to the castle.

You found him standing in the middle of the room, his expression filled with uncertainty. "You have questions."

There was a brief moment of silence, before he suddenly spoke, taking a chance on your unusual demeanor. "Do I 'ave permission t'speak freely?"

"You don't need my permission to do anything." You replied honestly, yet, intrigued by his request.

"Neve' met someone like you." Simon paused, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Yet, his words caught you off guard, causing a blush to creep up your cheeks. "What do you mean?" You asked, genuinely surprised by his confession.

"All m’years, I've met thousands of people..." Simon explained, his tone filled with a mix of vulnerability and obligation.

"Ya’ see, I have been tortured, beaten, punished, abused..."

A lump formed in your throat, and tears welled up in your eyes as he confessed. "Stop that..." You whimpered softly, your voice barely audible.

"...but the first day I meet you, you apologized for nothin’." His voice remained steady. "You call me by my name, and allow me to call you by yours..." He stated in confusion.

"Simon.."

"I am at your command, your highness. I will not deny it... Simon, don't..."

You couldn't help but stare at the floor. Your throat constricted, a heavy lump settling in it, making it difficult for you to speak.

Simon's words struck a chord within you.

"I never wanted things to be like this." You confess, taking a step closer to him, unable to keep your distance.

"I never wanted to be trapped within these walls, raised by guards and maids instead of my own parents. Told how to dress, how to behave, how to speak, even how to feel. Forever alone, mocked, ridiculed..." Closing the gap between you, you continued.

"I may not know what it is like to be one of you, and I can never truly understand the pain of what you've been through, but I do know what it's like to have no control over your own life. To have every decision made for you. So, when I apologize, it's not for nothing. It's for everything. Everything that has ever happened to you because of me..."

As you stood just a step away from him. His face, a mixture of confusion and bewilderment.

"...so I find myself apologizing, repeatedly. Even though I know you may not believe me. I can no longer continue living this facade. Pretending that everything is okay, when it's far from." You let a breathless laugh escape your lips.

"I refuse to treat you in the same manner as my father would, and I was only at that stupid auction today because he insisted I had to be. So, please understand that I cannot treat you with anything less than kindness... and nothing you do or say can ever change that."

As you looked up at him, your hand softly touched his forearm, which dangled lazily by his side. Looking up at him, his captivating eyes met yours, an unbreakable connection.

They portrayed a deep sense of astonishment as you confessed, causing you to avert your gaze shamefully. However, you couldn't help but look back at him, wanting to appear courageous in the presence of such an overwhelmingly, intimidating man.

Simon was bewitched, an enchanted feeling he had never experienced before consumed him completely, leaving no doubt in his mind at your sincerity.

Initially, he had pictured you as a spoiled, immature, arrogant princess, who'd come from a privileged, lavish life. Someone who had everything handed to them on a silver platter, attended private classes and never missed a lesson.

Although, as he gazed at you, he saw the complete opposite.

The rosy blush on your cheeks, a beautiful indication that your heart pumped with life, and the sparkle in your eyes revealed a shimmer of hope for the future.

At your chest tightening confession, Simon realized that despite where he came from, an environment filled with poverty and hardship, where tainted hands met violence and hurt, you'd still welcome him with kindness and warmth. Something he hadn't felt since he was human.

"Please, do not make this difficult for me." You pleaded with him.

"I'm certain that the years you remain here will fade in comparison to the rest of your life, but it will be my entire existence."

Little did you realize just how wrong you were. Simon was already well aware that his time here would trump all the years he'd existed.

He knew that you, would surpass all the people he'd spent his everlasting eternity with.

The past few months remained somewhat peaceful. You had yet to ask much from Simon, other than helping hand here and there.

To be truthful, you were slightly embarrassed at your initial introduction of yourself, and your thoughts on the whole situation made you reluctant to ask things of him. However, that didn't mean you weren't observant.

Despite both of your seemingly busy schedules, it didn't deter you from watching him closely as he worked.

Tending to the horses and other animals in the stables. The times you witness him and Louis engaged in deep conversation.

He was truly a captivating sight to behold. You'd study him, working away, out in the fields, watching as he effortlessly hoisted those hefty bales of hay.

A task which would typically require the strength of two mortal men, he made, seem like child's play.

On hotter days, there were moments when you would catch him clad, in nothing but a pair of trousers and boots. His tunic-shirt, casually tossed over the fence as he tirelessly carried on with his work.

It was during these days, you'd take your time when admiring his naked upper body. With strong, powerful muscles rippling beneath scarred, sweat glistening skin. He was undeniably breathtaking.

He'd once asked you for permission to use the library and you had assured him that he no longer needed to ask your approval.

In fact, you'd even told him to let anyone causing him trouble know that it was you who had granted him access.

You'd ran into him a few times there, when gathering books your instructors told you to bring along to class.

Conversations were always short, neither of you talked very much. Simply a few brief, fleeting words regarding what each of you were reading or how you had been passing the time.

Once you began to feel anxious or perhaps even a bit flustered, you'd politely excuse yourself. Scurrying off to find solace in some deep, hidden corner of the castle.

Simon always found you incredibly strange. He was well aware of the fact that he had captured your attention, as he could feel your eyes fixed on him during numerous occasions.

In fact, he would often find himself going the extra mile just to amuse you. Whether it was casually removing his sweat soaked shirt or deliberately taking a bit more time to complete his tasks, knowing that you would be watching his every move.

It wasn't until your father had confronted you about your tutors' complaints, regarding your lack of focus during lessons. How they'd caught your attention slipping, or how easily you got distracted, often gazing out the window lost in your own thoughts, 'daydreaming' was what they'd called it.

As a result, he summoned you to his study, where he proceeded to ridicule you about how childish you were being. To waste their time and his precious coin on classes that you so stupidly couldn't comprehend, or didn't have the mental capacity to follow along.

His words cut like a knife, devoid of any kindness or compassion. His only purpose, to shatter the illusions you had created in your head, and to demand your undivided attention.

You quickly left his study, tears streaming down your face. Hurriedly, rushing through the grand halls of the castle. Your sole mission was to reach your bedroom, where you could finally surrender to the comfort of your bed and release all the pent-up emotions through a torrent of tears.

Yet, you were interrupted at the top of the stairs where you'd collided with someone with such force, you thought it would surely bring you both sprawling to the ground.

Instinctively, you threw your hands out to catch yourself, only to find them resting against a solid chest covered in well-defined muscles. A strong arm encircled tightly around your waist, keeping you from collapsing onto the ground in a puddle of tears.

Simon had spent quite some time in the library, secretly hoping he'd encounter you. Unfortunately, luck was never on his side. He'd abandoned his pursuit, making his way back to his quarters when he suddenly caught the sound of your hurried footsteps. The rampant rhythm of your heartbeat, and the unmistakable, sickly scent of your sorrow.

There were only a few things Simon found enjoyable about being what he was. Among them, was his heightened senses. With his newfound sense of smell and enhanced hearing, he had the luxury of knowing exactly how a person was feeling.

On occasion, he was able to catch the skipped beat of your heart, when he paid you a subtle compliment and the, oh so, delightful scent of your arousal that filled the air when he'd 'accidentally' brush up against you.

However, in this moment he didn't find it quite as appealing. The sight of freshly fallen tears, cascading down your flushed cheeks, and the sound of each wet breath you took in an effort to compose yourself, which had no effect, had Simon's chest constricting.

"Your highness? What has happened?" The sight of your distress caused a surge of anger coursing through him at the thought of someone causing you pain.

The unexpected appearance of Simon caused you to feel a sudden sense of relief. As his rough, calloused fingertips gently brushed away the tears streaming down your cheeks, and as his words registered in your mind, you shook your head.

Taking a large step away from him, distanced yourself from his comforting embrace. You swiftly wiped away any remanence of your tears, before crossing your arms tightly over yourself, in an attempt, determined to comfort yourself.

"Nothing. I am just being childish, that's all." You reassured him. Putting emphasis on childish, in reference to your father's patronizing words.

Simon tried to cheer you up teasingly. "Ain't a princess not suppose' t'lie?" Unfortunately he hadn't had much practice in the matter and his attempt only seemed to make things worse.

"You're right. I'm sorry-I just..." Your voice fractured, like delicate glass as you started to apologize, but he interrupted you.

"No. No, 's not what I meant." He said gently. Confused, you looked up at him. "You don't need to lie, not to me."

Reaching out, his fingers delicately brushed away a wayward piece of hair from your face, tucking the stray strand behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You inhaled deeply, preparing to speak, the words escaped your lips softly. "I'm falling behind in my studies." Simon would've asked why, but deep down, he feared he already knew the answer. Him.

"'s trivial." He said, attempting once again to displace your worries.

"To you." You sighed, while he simply hummed in response.

"Suppose."

Simon was never one for words, so he thought of something else that might cheer you up. "Come with me." He uttered unexpectedly, catching you off guard.

"What?... Where?" You asked him puzzled.

This time, he reached his hand out slowly, gently brushing against your wrist and palm, before finally catching the tips of your fingers with his.

Without saying a word, he led you carefully by his side, guiding you out of the castle entrance and towards the stables. You couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably as Simon tightened his grip on your hand, intertwining your fingers.

With your free hand, you lifted the skirt of your dress, in order to keep up with Simon's quickening pace. "Where are you taking me?" You asked him playfully. He didn't respond, instead pulling you closer to him as you approached the fence of the pasture.

"Simon I'm not allowed this far." You warned looking up at him. Once again, he paid no mind to your words, smiling down at you as he grabbed you by the waist to hoist you over the fencing.

"Simon!" You shrieked his name. Grasping his sturdy upper arms, at the feeling of him effortlessly lifting you off the ground and into the air. Once he set you back down on your feet, he placed one hand onto the railing, leaping to your side.

"Would you just come on." He said, grabbing your hand once more pulling you with him into the open fields of grass.

Suddenly, he came to a stop, positioning you in front of him. You could feel the firmness of his chest against your back, while his large hands firmly grasped onto your hips protectively.

"Si-Shh, shh, shh. Look." He interrupted you softly, gently nodding his head for you to look forward.

Straight ahead, in front of you both, was a harras of horses. Gracefully trotting over the lush grassy knoll. A handful of playful foals keeping pace beside their nurturing mothers.

As the sun began its descent behind the towering trees, it painted the flowery hills with radiant beams of golden light.

The view before you was absolutely breathtaking, and despite all your years living in the castle, you never imagined you'd see something quite this beautiful.

You gently rested your hands on Simon's, which were now wrapped loosely around your waist and leaned back into the comfort of his strong embrace. In that moment, all your previous worries and doubts seemed to fade away.

Simon felt you relax into him, drawing you tighter against his body, keeping you close.

He gently lowered his head, his nose grazing against the full of your hair and he took a deep breath, inhaling in your delicious scent, savoring the intoxicating aroma of vanilla that enveloped you both.

As his words escaped his lips, a gentle touch of his breath caressed the shell of your ear sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His tone, a confident statement, rather than a question.

You gave a subtle nod, your voice currently untrustworthy as Simon's head remained nestled in your hair.

His hands began to wander. His brain, no longer thinking clearly as his senses grew hazy. His mind, a clouded mess, suddenly consumed by you.

With one hand he gently traced the curve of your hip, gripping at the softness of your plush thighs through the fabric of your skirt.

His other hand ventured upwards, long fingers spreading wide as they glided over your rib cage, brushing against your sternum just below your breast.

As his lips drug against the delicate skin of your neck and a surge of warmth enveloped you, your eyes widened in recognition.

You quickly spun around to distance yourself from him, but his arm remained securely around your waist holding you firmly in place.

Your hands reached out to push at his chest, but the intense look of hunger in his eyes, caused you to freeze.

How foolish of you, allowing him to lure you out here all alone. As much as you were reluctant to accept it, he was still a predator and his thirst for blood, veracious.

As his hand gently cradled your cheek, his fingers tangled in your wild hair. His eyes burned with an insatiable lust as he tilted your head.

You watched him salivate, his tongue darting out, licking his lips at your desirable taste.

A wavering sigh escaped your lips, leaving you utterly breathless. Fear gripped your trembling hands as he leaned closer, drawing you towards his awaiting mouth.

You knew there was no calling for help, no one would arrive fast enough to save you from him.

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes as a single tear fell down your cheek. Bracing yourself for the inevitable pain, accepting of his bitter-sweet bite of death.

His cold breath fanned against your lips, before a burning warmth enveloped them. Pleasurable tingles coursed through your jaw, gradually ascending to your face, caressing your cheekbones and even reaching your hair, which was held captive in his strong hand.

The rough texture of his scarred lips was nothing compared to the pillowiness of them.

Simon deepened the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You had never experienced such a sweet sensation before. You were still young and hadn't been trusting enough to share such an intimate moment like this with somebody.

A kiss filled with such an overwhelming sense of passion, surpassing any tenderness you had ever experienced. Your body relaxed, your hands, once tightly clutching his shirt out of fear, now clung to it with longing, yearning to pull him closer to you.

His mouth parted, gently drawing your lower lip inside. His tongue caressing the tender flesh as he kissed you furiously. He tasted like tea, earthy with a hint of something sweet, perhaps cherries or marzipan.

Simon couldn't get enough of you. The soft curve of your waist, perfectly fitting his hand, as if it were meant to keep you by his side.

Since his arrival, he'd been yearning for more. Longing for your taste, and to let you consume every part of him completely. The sickly-sweet flavor of your lips, the taste of your mouth that he savored like the most cherished elixir.

The sudden nip of his teeth against your plump skin stung, jolting you back to reality. The instant your eyes widened in astonishment, you pulled away from him.

Simon's brows were knitted together, as though the absence of your lip brought him some kind of unbearable pain. He breathed deeply, his chest, rising and falling, as if it carried the weight of his yearning.

He caught sight of the solitary tear that had escaped your eye, his thumb brushing it away along with your fears. You thought about how you'd gotten yourself here. How you had been so blind, up until this moment.

"Simon..." His name had never before sounded so beautiful coming from trembling lips.

Was it perhaps because he had kissed you silly, until you became lightheaded and breathless, or simply his ears playing tricks on him, he didn't know. Whatever it was he didn't care, his only priority was to somehow kiss you again.

"...why would you do that?" You said feverishly.

"Didn't think y’d mind." His voice was slurred as he spoke somberly. A hint of something playful in his tone that sent an unfamiliar sensation through your body.

Simon could smell the sweetness of your desire, yet your face, a mix of confusion and uncertainty. "You didn't ask..."

Of course that's what you wanted, he thought. A proper kiss for a proper girl. He smiled down at you, your eyes, filled with emotions, glistened innocently as they met his gaze.

"’ought ya might'a liked it." His gaze was soft as he shifted back and forth between your wide eyes and swollen lips.

"I might have if you'd asked."

In all honesty you did love like it. In fact it was better than you could've ever imagined. Although, it wasn't like you had anything to compare it to.

"Simon..." The purr that hummed in his chest sent tingles through you. He leaned down again dragging his nose along the exposed skin of your clavicle.

You flinched, the feeling of mouth so close to the bare skin of your neck. You shivered and couldn't help but whimper at the feeling.

Simon could smell your fading aroma of pleasure, replaced by the reeking scent of fear. He pulled away to look at you but you diverted your gaze. Looking anywhere but his captivating eyes.

"What's got ya so frightened, Dovie?" Amazed at how easy he could tell how you were feeling, you stuttered out a reply.

"I-We can't... If my father- Wait... how could you tell?"

"It reeks." He said blatantly.

"Y-you can smell fear?"

"Mhm..." He leaned back in, kissing up the side of your throat, mumbling against your skin between each one. "and sorrow... happiness... arousal..." You blushed deeply, bringing a hand up to hide your flushed cheeks.

"None of that, Dovie. 'm a proud man, like to see what I do to you."

The sun had set leaving the sky a dark blue-gray. The wind had picked up, the breeze whipping against your warm skin and tangling your hair into a mess.

Simon's hands began to move up and down against your arms before brushing back your wild strands. You leaned closer to him, his body bracing against the wind protecting you from the nipping cold.

"S'time to getcha inside, little one."

⇠ call of duty masterlist. part.2⇢

so this was originally just going to be one fic but it got way too long. so I figured I'd break it into two, maybe a third if y'all have some ideas/requests on how I could continue it <3 next part will be smutty!

#ladywuvly. m.list #18+ content #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #fanfic #navi.#18+ blog #fandom #vampireslave!simonriley x princess!reader #vampire!simon ghost riley

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17caratssi · 2 months

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My darling, honey pt 2 ; Jeon Wonwoo

part 1 is here!

You had been married to your teenage crush for three years and it was a wondrous journey added to the fact you just learned that you'd swallowed a watermelon seed.

Wonwoo was still working his ass off during the weekend and after he returned, you began preparing some light breakfast for him.

While he waited at the suffice dining table and stared at your back, he repeatedly expressed his regret as he was unable to spend the weekend together.

"It's fine. We have a lot of time together, don't dwell on it," you reassured albeit knowing he won't feel any better. Wonwoo became one with the silence and you were already used to it. He never spoke unless it was about you or something you asked for his opinion.

You finished with the cooking and he did the plating. Last night, he worked for only four hours but since he was called in the dawn, he felt sleepy quite a bit and you were the opposite.

As you both were eating, he looked at you oddly. You ceased to stop and raised an eyebrow, indicating your curiosity. "Are you done? Just leave the plate and go resume your sleep,"

Wonwoo shook his head and held your hand. Perhaps his palm was radiating so much warmth, you leaned forward in the coziness. "Hun, do you have something to tell me?" you asked.

Presented with ambivalence, Wonwoo took a minute to reply. He thought deeply before saying, "Don't you think I've been resting a lot these days?"

You could tell he was dourly asking. You have read it somewhere that if the husband loves his wife so dearly, he will experience early pregnancy fatigue rather than the wife. Thinking about how it related to his situation, you grinned.

Wonwoo smiled as if he was entranced by your reaction. He gave a gentle rub on your cheek and patted the back of your hand. He then told you to go upstairs and rest as he helped with the dishes.

You didn't refuse and went as he directed. There was nothing in your brain than the thought of how you should tell Wonwoo about your pregnancy.

While you pondered, he already completed the chore and got himself ready for the shower. Wonwoo looked bushed and you pitied him. After he came out from the wet, you beckoned him to the bed. Since he had changed his clothes inside, he didn't waste any time and ambled to you.

"I have something to tell you,"

Wonwoo hauled your whole body and answered. "Yes?" he was feeling cold and decreased the gap between your bodies. Seeing how comfy he appeared, on impulse, you straddled him and laid on top.

He took a different hint and whispered. "You want it?" Wonwoo asked with apparent lust. You let his hands explore your back but when he was getting dangerously near to your sensitive area, you grabbed his wrist and put a halt to it.

"We can't. Someone will see," you said. Attentively, Wonwoo kissed your neck and mumbled. "The outside? I'll draw the curtain," he sounded titillated and you honestly underestimated your own self-control. It was such a turn-on to see him inflamed but your conscience rushed in.

"No. Not outside but here," you brought his hand to your belly and reposed. Wonwoo didn't quite catch the periphrastic way you were telling but once he realized, the sparkling bright eyes shone even more brilliantly.

"Is it what I think it is?" he asked softly, almost audible. His palm smoothed around your belly and he looked at it. Wonwoo didn't need to ask twice as you clarified his question in a single nod.

You and Wonwoo had waited for 3 years and were confronted with many thrown doubts regarding your fertility. It wasn't something anyone can forget and take it lightly and so you began seeing specialists every few months to check on your body.

At first, Wonwoo did argue with you about it and at one point, you gave him a cold shoulder for a week. He wasn't easy to be persuaded but one day, he followed you for your regular check-up. On the way back, you requested to ride the bus instead. You two came by taxi and Wonwoo has no problem granting your wish.

After you picked your seat, Wonwoo got to his and sat quietly. You were having mixed feelings about today and leaned against your husband. "Are you alright?"

Wonwoo's response was fast but did not answer the question. He kissed your temple and said. "Let me know if you're going to your appointment next time. We'll go together," his mellow voice sang sorrow. You looked up to see his face and there hidden a hint of sadness in his beautiful eyes.

The journey home was blue that day, he knew his love for you was deep but not as much as the worries within.

Wonwoo was used to your prank and all but this news would never be one of them. After many attempts and tears, you two were gifted with a sunny revelation. He let out a light-hearted laugh and announced. "You're pregnant,"

"Y/N, you're pregnant!"

Wonwoo continued to have couvade episodes until the second trimester came by. Your belly swelled later than most women you knew. They told you it was normal for your bump to be small and even your husband assured you there was nothing to fret about.

Once it got bigger, you felt shy to stand bare naked in front of Wonwoo. You even made a fuss when he wanted to shower with you. "No, it's ugly. You will hate it,"

You only earned his grimace and a company for the bath. Wonwoo hissed as he smeared the shower gel over your body. His dissatisfaction was then voiced out, "How can you say this hideous? I'm the hideous one,"

You glared at him and covered his mouth. "Don't say that. It'll make it sound like I don't have a taste for marrying an ugly man," and that had Wonwoo cracked, you followed suit.

Out of blue, you felt something poking behind you. You flicked his head and pinched his waist. Flustered, you sheepishly exposed him. "Why are you getting hard?"

"Ignore that. You're just too sexy and I'm a pervert,"

"Yeah, a pervert," you chuckled with your hands fondling him already.

You and Wonwoo didn't have extensive exercise the whole pregnancy, fear if you'll get hurt. However, one night, you woke him up wanting to do it. He did it so gently that you squirmed around and begged him.

"Go harder.."

"No, honey. You're near due,"

Wonwoo had a hard time practicing abstinence in your later weeks. He hadn't done it for almost a month and he thank God for not testing him too much. Seeing how seductive you acted that night, he went out of his principle and pleased you.

He was feeling bliss all over but you were his priority. He felt the familiar sensation inside you and he smiled. "Come for me," he knew it won't take him long to bring you an orgasm. He kissed your neck and thrust a few times more before he had you ended.

Panting, you loosened your arms around his torso and asked. "Did you come? Don't lie to me,"

Wonwoo was about to tell a lie when you added. He didn't dare to ejaculate inside after he learned that semen can cause contractions. He then flashed an apologetic smile at you. "I can use my hand,"

Wonwoo never used his hands and you've long known. That hurt your heart even more. You pushed him off and got up to wash.

Whether you were pregnant or not, Wonwoo wasn't close to tranquil if you were in the bathroom for a long period. He knocked on the door for the third time and asked if you needed any help but you chose to not answer.

After a while, you finished and silently left the bathroom. The sky was still dark and your husband wasn't in the bed. "Wonwoo?" you called him, slow-voiced.

Where did he go? Is he mad when I threw tantrum just now? You felt conflicted. He rarely let you sleep alone when he's home and now he did. Rather than furious, you wanted to see him.

But even after the nth time of calling him from the room, he still didn't reply. The after-sex effect kicked in and you began to yawn. No sign of Wonwoo getting into bed and you retired soon.

As soon as you hit the pillow, you couldn't open your eyes anymore. Having no desire to resist the sleepiness, you fell asleep and Wonwoo returned home to a sleeping wife.

He put the bag of condoms in the cabinet and properly snuggled against you on the bed. He had taken a shower downstairs before going out but he was afraid you'd wake up to his smell. It happened before and you had him slept on the floor the entire week.

Wonwoo stared at you as you fell deeper into slumber and fixed your position. Your round belly looked adorable and he recalled the moments when you cried because your swollen feet hurt.

He had hurried home that evening and massaged your legs with his uniform on. "Hubby," you sniffed, wanting his attention.

"Yes?"

Your face poker and you stayed silent for a good five minutes until you broke out of character. "I love you," you confessed out of nowhere.

With your nose running with a snort, Wonwoo laughed and hugged you. "Honey, if you keep being like this, I don't know how to survive,"

Wonwoo had lost count of how many times had he rushed home because you called him crying. He was always worried even though he may have an idea of what was happening.

Little things that you do to gain his attention basked him in elation. His love for you has grown impassioned and somehow anticipates the baby to come into this world of his and yours.

Before it reached dawn, Wonwoo was first to feel the wet bed and woke up. In a daze, he didn't quickly stir you but rather checked the ceiling.

However, it was your moaning had his head turned to you, full attention. "The baby- I think the baby's coming," you winced as you spoke. He can tell from your labored breathing that it must hurt.

Fortunately, you had been reminding him to get the maternity bag ready in his car. You were around his arms as he carried your weight to the car and placed you gently in the backseat.

As he drove to the emergency department, you told him you can bear the pain but he wasn't buying. Wonwoo got out and called for a team to attend to you. They instantly brought all the necessary equipment to the vehicle and performed the procedure.

Wonwoo was guided to the registration counter and while you were pushed into the waiting hall, the only thing that kept you conscious at the moment was his arrival.

You wanted him to be by your side so badly and if you suddenly had an emergency labor without him, you honestly would cry.

Perhaps, the baby wished to see his parents immediately, you were out into labor just several hours after that, and Wonwoo was permitted into the room.

The entire process was both scary and exciting for you. On one hand, you fret if you are drained out of energy while pushing the baby out but on the other, your husband was very collected about the whole situation.

"Honey, we can see the head already. Just a little push and we're going to meet our child,"

"I know you can. Grip my hand tighter as you push,"

You didn't know what was along his sentence that moved you but tears ran down your face and you made your last exertion in his presence.

The loud wailing was an end to your suffering. Wonwoo stayed with you and only when the midwives called to cut the umbilical cord he came about.

Days after you had the little one downright changed but Wonwoo never stopped giving his unreserved attention to both of you. He would promptly take care of the child in the middle of the night since you'd had it in the morning when he was out to work.

It was a challenging period as it was Wonwoo's first experience as a father. He took a lot of advice from his parents and other people and in the blink of an eye, the child is now two years old.

At first, many said that the baby took your features but he seemed to be the carbon copy of his father. His first word was 'mummy' but all he called now was 'daddy'.

"Daddy, pick me,"

"Daddy, toys,"

Daddy here, daddy there. You couldn't help but feel bitter inside. You and Wonwoo did spend equal time with your son but his blatant preference made you green. But maybe part of him inherited from how clingy you were to your husband. “He’s just like you, Y/N,”

He gifted a peck on your jaw and smiled softly. Suddenly, a voice from the little one chimed in. “Mummy, no!” and cause a rupture of laughter from the adults. You teased him by giving his favorite person more kisses. “Daddy’s mine,”

Wonwoo will never have this memory faded. He’s glad that you confessed to him that day.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

If you like this story, you might as well check out the others here !

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo smut #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo oneshot #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #wonwoo husband au #wonwoo first love #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagine

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night-raven-tattler · 2 months

Note

Hello Mx Tattly, I hope I can request some angst for GN!MC x Jamil? Basically, what could be the reasons for them to break up, and how would Jamil handle the fallout?

Hello, anon! Mx Tattly is pleased with the request! Being a teen in love is hard, and first relationships are rarely successful. Mx Tattly still hopes you enjoy!

Relationships are...

Characters: Jamil × GN!Reader (romantic)

Warnings: angst, failing relationship, breakup, misunderstandings, mention of crying

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

1. Relationships are a stupid idea, but everyone is a bit stupid sometimes, even Jamil.

The moment Jamil agreed to go on your first date, his first date, he knew there was no coming back

Something about the new territory and the uncertainty of teenage love made him nervous

He interpreted the nerves making his stomach twist and turn as the famous love butterflies everyone was talking about

Maybe in the beginning they were

When everything was nice and you both were riding the high of the relationship

You seemed to understand him so well, doing your best to support him by supporting him emotionally or giving a hand with his tasks around the dorm

You loved his cooking, his meticulous nature and his dedication to be on top of everything

And he knew that

He cooked you meals that he always called “leftovers” because admitting he put some of his time aside just for you felt a little too personal, too much

He memorized your schedule and always “just happened to pass by you” while you were heading to classes outside of the school building

He offered you the possibility of joining him and Kalim when they studied, wanting to help you understand more of his world without outwardly saying it

Jamil wished to be understood, to be read for once

But maybe the reading material he tried to offer you was in a language you were not ready to learn…

One evening after his club activities, you tried to invite him to spend the night with you

A sleepover, nothing more

Jamil would’ve loved that

Being away from Kalim for a night, enjoying some alone time with his sweetheart…

But he remembered Kalim needed help putting his uniform in the morning

And he also had to prepare his breakfast

And leaving at the crack of dawn just to help him and inconvenience you by waking you up was not worth it

He thought he did the right thing by refusing your offer- no, he knew he did the right thing

Inconveniencing you was unacceptable, his sweetheart deserved to enjoy their sleep

It’s the least he could do after denying your thoughtful offer

“...Okay. I get it. Maybe next time.”

Exactly, next time! When he will be able to trust Kalim more-

No, trust his dorm mates to care for Kalim better so he can have time for himself

But you have to accept the fact that Kalim was someone he was obligated to prioritize

And he knew you understood, he was sure of it by now

Otherwise, you wouldn't have agreed to date him, right?

『••✎••』

2. Relationships are far too complicated, why can’t the feelings involved just be easier to deal with?

Jamil wasn’t lucky enough to have a simple life

He cared for you, really

But the way you started being less talkative to him made no sense to him

He offered you dinner every evening, still calling it “leftovers” but now as an inside joke

And he even stood with you for a few minutes while you ate before running back to Scarabia after a frantic call from one of the students about Kalim

“Yeah, I understand. Go, Jamil. Hope you don’t have too much of a mess to clean up.”

And the next day, he’d make sure to walk you to your classes outside the main school building

Even if Kalim trailing after you like a hyperactive puppy

Or even if he could only walk you halfway through because he didn’t dare leave Kalim unsupervised for too long

Despite your silence, you still accepted his presence

And even warmed up to him back somewhat as you walked

But then things would get weird with your mood again

Jamil tried explaining a simple formula to you that you simply couldn’t wrap your head around

No matter how he explained it to you, it was something beyond your comprehension

“I know you can do it, Reader. Just focus.”

“I am focusing, Jamil. I think I just need a break, that’s all.”

“Alright, but after 10 minutes we’ll get back to it again. I can’t have you fall behind, even Kalim understands it.”

After the 10 minutes ran out, you made an excuse to leave and packed your things while you asked him not to text you for the rest of the day

Jamil wasn’t stupid, but feelings sure made him feel like it

After all, he was finally to put together the source of your frustration

『••✎••』

3. Relationships are a sham.

Talking to you about your frustrations with Kalim was fruitless

“You’re too glued to him, you deserve some space!”

“When was the last time we simply spent some time together without any disturbances?!”

“He won’t die if you let him on his own for a bit! What is he, a child?!”

He left your dorm more frustrated than before

Frustrated at Kalim for consuming his life like the parasyte he was

Frustrated at you for not understanding his position

Frustrated at himself...

For thinking you’d understand…

He never got what he wanted, why would this time be different?!

He collapsed on his bed and lost sleep over his self pity

『••✎••』

4. Relationships are tough… but is it that bad?

You came to him early in the morning, and apologized profusely for your outburst

You understood his position, you really thought you did

But the frustration got to you, no matter how hard you tried to push it away

Jamil accepted your apology, and you clung onto each other for the next few days, a reminder of the early days

But even after making amends, you never managed to quite find your old footing again

Jamil started forgetting about making your dinner with you and brought actual leftovers with him

It’s still the thought that counts, right?

You understood the moment you noticed the sudden abundance of spices

You also told Jamil he didn’t need to guide you around school all the time, you can just meet when you had classes around the same area

You went back to studying with both Kalim and Jamil, but you only payed attention when Jamil was explaining a concept both you and Kalim would need for your classes

You finally found a balance

That’s what he thought anyway

Yes, the time spent together seemed to diminish slightly, but no couple had all partners glued to each other all the time, right?

That’s why the return of your silence made his stomach turn

But, this time, you broke your own silence

“I don’t think I like the way things are going, Jamil.”

“I care about you, I do, but I know you’re spreading yourself too thin.”

“I miss having alone time with you, I… I can’t keep going like this. I’m sorry.”

You waited for a reply, any reply

Jamil only said one thing

“As you wish.”

You stood there for a few seconds, unsure what to do

Then you rushed out of his room

As a last act of kindness to you as his lover, he let you go

He finally realised you felt caged, so he released you

Jamil has felt caged his entire life

And doing that to you was too much for him

He let you go the moment you wanted out without putting up a fight

He could take his revenge on Kalim because he hated him

But you…

He couldn’t hate you, as much as he wanted to in that moment

All Jamil could hate was himself for not being better at this whole relationship thing, maybe that would’ve made you stay longer

『••✎••』

5. Relationships are not his cup of tea

Jamil was somewhat numb after the breakup

It was just a relationship, he didn’t need to fret over it for too long

He tried moving forward and simply sticking to his routine

A routine that he intertwined so much with yours that he often saw you in the hallways

When you saw him, you did your best to keep things brief and leave as soon as possible

You obviously were trying to “make things less awkward”

But he was clearly unbothered

He was fine

Everything was fine

So why didn’t you want to talk to him like before?

Did the friendship you had before dating just go up in flames?!

He soon followed your lead, avoiding you just like you avoided him

Kalim became the sole background noise of his life once again, but he had no more energy to be frustrated about it

He didn’t like to admit it but Kalim being his usual annoying self helped him slip back into his routine before meeting you

Except for when Kalim talked about you

A conversation topic Jamil refused to indulge with

Kalim missed you and became sad when you rejected his attempts at smoothing things over for his friend

And Jamil had no energy to argue with him anymore

After all, he deserved the silence and the awkwardness and the avoidance and the emptiness

The numb ache in his heart that reminded him of everything he did wrong

A growing dull ache that he never seemed to shake away

Until one night, when he woke up from a dream that had you in it

And he allowed to cry for you once

Just once

At least once

And it helped him slightly slip back to his old self again

His grumpy yet meticulous, clever yet in hiding, caring yet clumsy in the affairs of love

At the end of the day he had to accept the fact that whatever happened is over, and his only option is moving forward

The numb ache slowly dwindled as he saw you less and less, your past connection a blurry memory

Maybe relationships are not for him

He had better things to look after anyway

Like... you know, what he's always been doing

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #no beta we die like jamil's relationship......... the tattler will see himself out goodbye

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matchavellichor · 9 months

Text

Just This Once Pt. 3

dark!Ominis x f!MC - NSFW - 3.1k words - ao3

A/N: final part!! left it a bit vague/open-ended but i hope the sneaky mc is implied enough 🫣

Tags: Pining, Requited Love, Obsession, Slight Somnophilia, Thigh Riding

Part 1, Part 2

Ominis stirs to a warm body curled against his, her face tucked into the crook of his neck, soft breathing sending little shivers of pleasure where it puffs against his skin. Maybe he’s died and gone to heaven. Considering everything he’s done, he quickly dismisses the possibility.

Realization steadily dawns on him on who exactly he’s holding and his arms tighten instinctively around her waist, as if he can somehow defy the laws of physics and mold her figure with his own. Her smell is all over him, a dizzying and intoxicating aroma, and he buries his nose in the crown of her head, inhaling deeply and praying her scent will forever be impregnated on his sheets.

He hopes it’ll be a while before she wakes.

He contemplates the longevity of the dose he’d given her last night as his hand trails up her arm, tracing smooth planes he’s far too familiar with by now. That usual pounding in his chest awakens with the contact, almost like clockwork, sounding deafeningly in his ears as he takes his time exploring. His heart is in his throat by the time he dips his finger under silk ever so slightly, slips the thin little strap of her negligee down her shoulder. Something inside him tells him he shouldn’t, but his brain hasn’t woken up enough to pay any heed to its warnings.

His fingers dust over exposed, sleep-warm skin and he revels in its softness, a sensation that fills him with the strange desire to ruin. To bite, and mark, and take, to make his. These urges don’t faze him anymore at this point, and he’s long accepted his own fallibility by the first time he’d had his hands all over her. Denying it any longer would be absurd, even for someone as delusional as him.

Before he can consider it properly, he tilts his chin down and presses his lips to the sensitive juncture of her neck and shoulder, imagining this is something he has some sort of right to wake up to every day, some right to wake her up to. She’s so devastatingly warm, and he earns a surge of adrenaline from the feeling of her pulse pressed right against his mouth, almost beating in synchrony with his own.

She doesn’t stir as he trails up her neck with feather-light kisses, but something else does, a far too recognizable sensation. That familiar aching fire he feels in his gut, that seeps down lower and lower towards his groin, sears his very nerves and courses red-hot heat through his blood. He used to feel some level of revulsion, self-reproach, shame. Now all he can feel is how perfect she is pressed so tightly against him, too overwhelming to preoccupy himself with any other thoughts.

His tongue dips out to lick a stripe under her jaw, but he only tastes her briefly before he stops himself. He’s so achingly hard in his trousers already. He should be embarrassed—he would if he had even the slightest sense of shame. He doesn’t.

The only thing stopping him from unsheathing himself, indulging, slick and warm in his own fist, is the thought that she could wake at any time. Even then, it’s only faulty hesitations that stop him, waning and flimsy in the face of his overwhelming desire.

He lets his cheek press to the top of her head and closes his eyes, focusing on her soft breathing against the underside of his jaw, trying to gain some level of self-restraint. It’s like she was made to exhaust every last shred of it.

Some sick part of him is tempted to dose her with more of the potion lying on his bedside table. Pry her mouth open and keep her pliant for him for a few more hours. He could have his way with her again, stretch this blissful moment out as long as possible.

Rationally, he knows he can’t. Reason steadily seeps into his infatuated brain and dismisses any fantasies he has of holding her all day, touching and caressing, and taking advantage, to the fullest, sickest extent of the word. He knows that their friendship dangles over a precipice by a thread at the moment, that any moment she’ll wake and realize where she is and what he’s done to her, and she’ll be repulsed by him.

The thought makes his chest tighten, douses him in a bucket of cold water and finally pushes him to carefully, reluctantly, disentangle his body from hers and pull away. The loss of her warmth is like a knife being driven into his chest, but almost immediately after he unwraps his arms from her waist, she wakes, blinking drowsily at him in the dimly-lit room.

“Ominis?” His name on her tongue is quiet and sleep-rough, and the sound only serves to worsen the tender wound in his heart, making the urge to pull her back into his arms almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, his chest pounding as he scrambles for an excuse after clearly having been so close to her. “Sorry, I’m–I’m sorry, I was just—”

“Will you come back to bed?”

He stills. He has half a mind to imagine he’s misheard her, or that she’s still under the influence to request such a thing. When she doesn’t get a response she sinks back against the pillows, shifting towards the edge of the bed and patting the open space beside her.

“Please?”

His body moves of its own accord before he can properly rationalize any part of this. She’s obviously not in any right state of mind—she can’t be. She’ll be disgusted with him as soon as she comes to her senses. He can’t fathom being wanted, not like this, much less by her. Despite these thoughts, he climbs under the covers beside her, his heart stuttering in his chest when she immediately tucks herself into his side, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

He goes rigid as a board. The notion that he’s died and gone to heaven suddenly seems more plausible again, even if all parts of him imagine the notion absurd. There’s no part of him that doubts that the figure snuggled around him is anything less than an angel, however.

He hesitantly pulls one of his arms over her body, holding her, but not in the way he truly wants to. He restrains himself, even if his willpower feels bent to the brink of snapping with how warm and soft she feels.

“Is–Is this alright?” He asks, something he’s admittedly unaccustomed to doing. The words sound foreign in his mouth.

She nods against his skin, soft hair tickling the underside of his jaw. “You can touch me,” she murmurs, voice small as if she’s admitting to a secret. “I like it when you do.”

She sounds so sincere. It rips Ominis apart.

Those simple little words are enough to knock all the air out of his lungs, devastating —in all the good ways the word can be. He presses his nose to her temple so his next inhale will be nothing but her, wanting his lungs filled, hoping she’ll occupy every single cavity. He doesn’t know what to do with so much unrestrained permission to touch. Hesitantly, inevitably, he indulges.

Her skin feels novel under his fingertips as he ponders the incredulous reality that the reason he’s holding her is because she asked him to, and not because he’s forced his will again. Any exhilaration he’s felt exploring her before is incomparable to the sensation he feels with the simple brush of his thumb over her collarbone knowing she actually welcomes his eager hands.

He isn’t sure what he’s ever done to deserve this.

He’s absolutely certain of all the things he’s done to never be even the smallest fraction worthy, however, and the sudden feeling of guilt begins to encroach on the bliss he should feel in the moment. Her chest pressed against his, her breathing ghosting his cheek, it slips him back to all the ways he’s violated her trust. Taken from her what she now gives him so willingly.

He should confess. He should be honest with her about everything, if he wants even the slightest chance at redeeming himself. He should—

His brain whites out when she shifts to hitch a leg over his waist, and he suddenly becomes acutely aware of just how bare she is underneath her chemise, pressed right against his thigh. What was it he should be doing again?

His heart skips a few beats, and then a couple more, and then his hands are flying to meet her waist, to stop her from doing any more adjusting and sending him to a much-too-early grave via cardiac arrest.

Did he not put her knickers back on her last night? How could he be such a fool? Does she realize? She must, he posits. Yet, miraculously, she hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t made a single comment about her bareness. In fact, she seems perfectly content, blissfully comfortable as she stretches her body out over his, infuriatingly unaware of how terribly she’s ruining him.

Ominis’ thoughts of doing the right thing, of redemption and conciliation, of treating the precious thing in his arms the way she deserves to be treated, disintegrates along with the last vestiges of his self-restraint. He trails a hand over the thigh bracketed over his hips, and rests it there, still and neutral, and very much not taking advantage, he tells himself.

But then she sighs, a gratified little sound, and he shatters.

He lets his palm drag over her skin, lower and lower towards her knee before making its journey back up, stroking tenderly, tracing every contour with his thumb. He lets his other hand rub comforting circles on her back, basking in the warmth that seeps through the silk of her gown. A smile tugs at his lips at the quiet hum of approval she gives him, making him feel all more justified in his decision to touch.

“Feels nice,” she murmurs, voice still drowsy, just the way he likes her.

“You feel nice,” he confesses.

He doesn’t ask for permission when he drags his hands higher up her thigh, thumb brushing over the dip of her hipbone, peeking under satiny silk. She doesn’t protest, almost as if she’s used to him not asking by now.

“Always feel so nice,” he murmurs aimlessly before he can stop himself, words drenched in admiration. “So soft. Never felt anything so soft”

He lets his hands drag higher, under, her breath hitching from the contact, a little gasp let out where she tries to hide her face against his neck. So shy. He wonders if she’d be so demure if she knew how eagerly he’d already explored all those intimate parts of her, both with his lips and with his fingers.

His palms find purchase on either side of her hips and he barely has to apply any pressure before she’s shifting on her own accord, pressing herself against his thigh, her body seeking him out even if her brain hasn’t caught up to the notion yet. He intakes a sharp breath and exhales a curse against her shoulder.

She stills, as if she isn’t currently straddling his leg, as if her nails aren’t leaving little red crescents on his forearm, and her traitorous breathing isn’t revealing everything she feels at the moment.

He knows what she needs, and gets a strange thrill out of being able to give it to her, even if she doesn’t know how to ask quite yet. Lucky for her, he’s very good at taking without asking.

He only needs to apply a little pressure for her hips to move. Just a tiny push, a barely-there nudge for her perfect body to grind right up against him, bare mound rubbing against the soft cotton of his trousers. Her cheek is searing where it’s pressed against his shoulder, chin tucked at his collarbones, shame painting her face a pretty red.

“It’s alright,” he reassures, voice low and tender as if he’s soothing a startled animal. As if he might break her out of the spell he finds her in. “You’re okay. Just let me take care of you. You don’t have to do a thing, angel.”

She doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need her to. He plants a kiss to the top of her head and slowly guides her movements, little stuttered rolls of her hips against his, an excruciatingly languid pace, but he’s never had more patience in the world. She rocks herself against his thigh until there’s a wet spot on his pants, the realization making his entire world tilt left and his head spin.

He has her. Actually has her. Grinding on his lap, muffling pleas against his skin, soaking through the material of his trousers. There’s a surreality to the entire thing that guides all of his actions, makes him more unabashed, his fingers digging into her hips and paying no mind to any marks he might leave.

He seeks his own pleasure as he helps her seek hers, fixates on all the ways he can make her toes curl against his calves, where that sensitive little part of her catches on something punishing and she keens.

“Just like that,” he encourages, voice hoarse, a burning that only comes from true, unashamed passion. The slightest hint of mirth bleeds through his tone, depravely satisfied. “You like this, don’t you?”

She shakes her head, still playing coy. He finds he likes it when she pretends.

“You do,” he whispers, lips pressed to the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t feel how much of a mess you’re making on my trousers, hm?”

Her response is a stifled cry, body shuddering under his compelling hands, clinging to every praise he whispers in her ear. He’s never felt so unashamed before, so disgustingly bold, drunk on the arousal he feels from her lithe body humping his.

“You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?” He asks, teeth scraping at the sensitive lobe of her ear, dragging down her skin until she whines. “My sweet, sweet girl. I’ve wanted you, too. Wanted you for so long.”

She unburies her face from his neck, cheeks flushed a crimson hue, stray hairs sticking to her temples. He can’t see her, but her stuttered breathing against his lips is all he needs to know she’s a mess.

He wants to reach out, cup her face, stroke her skin, but she doesn’t grant him the opportunity. In the very next moment, she’s surging forward to capture his lips in hers, desperate and urgent and wholly unashamed. He groans into her mouth, an almost tortured sound that her lips rip easily from the back of his throat.

This kiss is different.

Far better than anything he could ever have experienced before, any reciprocation that the Imperius could hope to replicate, any softness he could strive to receive from her sleeping form.

This kiss is enough to destroy him, leave him gutted and flayed open, and evidently it’s enough to do the same to her, as she’s pushed almost immediately over the edge of ecstasy.

Her whole body tenses, perfect and rigid yet somehow still so unbelievably malleable against his, a delicious contradiction. He swallows every last moan she lets out against his lips, every hitching gasp and strangled whimper. Her fingers curl into the front of his shirt for support, and his hands never leave her hips as he guides her through her high, in the same fashion his mouth never disconnects from hers.

Only when she manages to grow even pinker in the face, lungs burning and chest heaving against his, do they finally break, hot and heavy pants puffing against swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Ominis feels he might faint.

Miraculously, he only lets his head fall back against the pillow as he tries to gain some level of motor coordination. She huffs a soft, pleasure-drunk laugh against his cheek, mumbles something he can’t quite hear over the ringing in his ears.

Only when she finally moves, shifting over his body to a more comfortable position, does awareness flood back into him. Slowly, she pulls herself from his limp-muscled body, unslots herself from his now cum-slick leg. Ominis mourns the loss of the wet-hot heat of her, but she quickly rectifies it with a kiss against his cheek and her arms clinging tight around his waist.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers, voice quiet but far from meek when she says it. It sounds almost like forgiveness, but he can’t begin to fathom the meaning behind it in the state he’s in.

He feels too drunk on sheer euphoria, an involuntary smile pulling at his lips. He’s shared something beautiful with her, something good for once. Something he thought he was incapable of for the longest time. Overwhelmed by the feeling that all he can do is destroy, hurt, ruin.

There’s still that contrite voice in his head, but it's soothed now, a mere whisper, acquiesced by some strange sense of absolution he’s received from her. The itch to say something, to confess, to ask for forgiveness is there, but it’s faint. Bearable.

“I’ll never hurt you,” he says in place of an admission, a promise more to himself than to her. He leaves out the again even though the word rings slightly in his ears. Guilt is an easy thing to ignore when you have the object of all of your desires swaddled in your arms. “I swear it to you.”

She pulls back to study him for a beat, the slightest hint of knowing behind her eyes, before she smiles and presses her forehead against his own. “I know that, silly. I’ve always trusted you,” she noses at his cheek, lips tilting down to press against the corner of his mouth, brief and reassuring. “Always.”

The smile he returns her is rueful, forced. He feels the words catch on his tongue again, a heavy knot that he tries to force down, but every swallow sticks to his throat. He kisses her before she can decipher the remorse behind it.

Her kiss melts his worries away like sugar cubes in hot tea, dissolving into insignificant little particles. Before, he wasn’t sure if he’d be okay with her never knowing, but now he thinks he can manage keeping a secret if it means he can keep her. Forever, indefinitely, as long as time will permit it.

He presses his lips to the top of her head and lets his eyes flutter closed, in a state of genuine peace for the first time in months, years. Somewhere beneath the tranquility, possession broils quietly in his blood, a litany of mine, mine, mine—a sense of blissful conquest. She seems to sense it, somehow, welcomes it.

There’s the slightest quirk of her lips at the corner, a soft smile. One he wouldn’t be able to see anyway, even if she weren’t hiding it against the crook of his neck. Quiet, cunning, yet intrinsically content. Like the cat that caught the canary, or even, a particularly sly snake that had found its way inside her garden.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt fanfiction #dark fic #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis

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sotwk · 11 months

Text

Taken (Eomer x femReader )

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 / Part 3

Love Confession feat. Eomer Eadig

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: The lone shield-maiden in Eomer's Éored has been secretly in love with him for years, but has long accepted that that he can never share those feelings. At the feast of King Elessar's coronation, she is surprised to learn that there may yet be hope.

Prompt: "It's like you never really see me. I'm standing right in front of you and you don't see me!"

Requested by and Dedicated to: @writefortherain-blog Thank you for making this request and giving me the opportunity to write for Eomer!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: Romance, angst, mutual pining, oblivious to love, jealousy, forbidden relationship, class division, shield-maiden, King Eomer, post-RotK

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Taken

Third Age 3019 May 1

Minas Tirith

PART ONE

Downing that fourth cup of wine had been a mistake. Or was it the fifth? Sixth? The ridiculous dress with its rib-crushing bodice and neckline positioned nowhere near your neck, had also been a mistake, even though the local clother had insisted to you that it was in the "proper" Gondorian fashion. The entire evening and its inconveniences had all been for a failed end.

You finally jostled your way out of the packed feasting hall and stumbled outside to the courtyard, your compressed lungs and flushed skin rejoicing at their contact with the cool night air. One hand rose to massage your throbbing temple, and the other clawed irritatedly at the boning that caged in your unacceptably unfeminine frame.

"Never again," you seethed under your breath, as you crossed the white-stone pavement to move even farther away from the chaos you escaped.

It had been a painful decision to ride out to Minas Tirith with the rest of your Éored and attend the coronation of the returned King of Gondor. You despised grand affairs, knowing well enough the requirements rules of court would impose on you, unwieldy formal attire being just one of them. These were at least tolerable within Rohan, where you could find some comfort amongst familiar faces and settings. But as the lone female who rode in the company of the Third Marshal, you refused to be excluded from any undertaking by your Éored, however dangerous or unpleasant. Whether it broke your arm or shattered your heart.

"I can just go," you thought, casting a quick glance back at the great hall, alive and alight with the merry cacophony of a thousand revelers that would surely last until dawn. The two hours you already spent mingling to the best of your limited ability had to suffice, and it was doubtful your presence would even be missed.

But the call of a deep voice stalled your retreat, loud and commanding and instantly recognizable even across a distance as it shouted your name. The soldier in you succumbed to the instinct to obey your Marshal, to honor the oath you had sworn on your knees years ago.

The flickering flames of nearby torchlights reflected against the carved silver panels of the breastplate he donned over his lavishly embroidered tunic. Famously handsome even when caked in blood and grime, Eomer was breathtakingly resplendent bearing the regalia that befitted his station. King Eomer now, you reminded yourself, as you dipped your head in a bow.

“My lord.”

“Is something amiss? Why did you leave?” His narrowed eyes upon you were penetrating, his tone demanding rather than concerned. Lying to someone you had spent practically every single day of your adult life with was difficult, and even more so with an addled brain, so you knew you had to mince words carefully.

Fortunately, you had years of practice doing exactly that.

“I underestimated the potency of their vintage, and downed one cup too many.” You scrunched up your features in a grimace that just slightly exaggerated your pain. “I thought it best to excuse myself and retire for the night.”

“Perhaps if you rested a while and ate some food…” He rested a hand lightly on your shoulder. “It is much too early and the quarters would still be empty. I know you detest fraternizing, but just sit at the table with the rest of our men.”

You released a graceless guffaw and a puff of wine-tinged breath. “Half of them are already deeper in their cups than I, and getting sloppier by the second. I finally had to remind Héothain of his manners the second time he tried to sneak a hand down the front of my dress.”

“He did what?” Eomer’s sudden growl awakened you to your own carelessness and slip of the tongue. Smooth-cheeked Héothain was the youngest and newest addition to the Éored, and remained sorely lacking in experience with women. He should not be held accountable for his awkwardness amplified by insobriety.

“It was a silly mistake that caused no harm,” you insisted, pulling back as Eomer attempted to lead you off by the elbow. “Two sprained fingers taught him a lesson he shall not soon forget.”

Eomer glowered at you but remained silent for a pause, as he did whenever running through courses of action in his mind. “Then you can come sit by me at the King’s table.”

Your laugh in response to that suggestion was shrill and nervous, as he looked so serious making it. “I most certainly cannot… my lord.” You stated your defiance firmly, baring a toothless pertinacity against your leader, and underneath it a silent plea that the friend in him would understand. “There is no place for me amongst such esteemed company and truly, there is nothing in the world I would enjoy less at this moment.”

You sighed and braced one hand below your rib area, massaging a spot where the corset dug into a still-tender battle injury.

“Please. Let me go back to my room where I can be rid of these dreadful garments.”

“No.” The immediacy and sharpness of his refusal made you blink in surprise. “Not until you explain yourself to my satisfaction.”

“Pardon, my lord?”

“Hah, there! That is what I am speaking of.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand--”

“When did you cease to call me by my name in private conversation? Or last bother to converse with me at all?!” You took too long to answer, and he barreled on, hazel eyes flashing with the sudden rise of agitation. “Let me enlighten you, since I recall it well. It began after Theodred’s death, accompanied by a host of other changes in your behavior towards me that you think I have not noticed!”

You scrambled to concoct a rebuttal, another feint to keep him from uncovering your secrets. Alas, your dulled mind had frozen completely in the face of the horse-lord’s fury, which had never been directed at you in such a manner.

“You are misreading things, my lord, or else imagining them. I cannot say that I--”

“You cannot even look me in the eye these days of late!” Eomer snapped. “Nor can you stand to be in any room I am in for long.” He threw out his arm in the direction of the great hall. “Even now you rebuff any attempt I make to spend time with you.”

“I…I…” You stammered, rendered helpless before his unexpected wrath, cursing yourself for the poor timing of your inebriation. How could you put up your shields when your mind was struggling to pick out your own lies from the truth?

“If you are angry with me, I would have you admit to it now. I will no longer be played for a fool.”

Indignation pooled in your gut, crawling upward until it deepened the coloring of your already flushed face. “I confess to nothing! For what cause do I have to be angry?”

“Because you loved him!” Eomer erupted. As you gaped at his outburst, he gripped a fistful of his hair, and took in one sharp breath, steeling himself. “You loved Theodred,” he finally said, in a voice gone cold and quiet. “And you place blame on me for his death.”

The fire in your belly flared at the terrible accusation. “Theodred was murdered by Saruman, and only a traitor would fault you for that vile cur’s deed.” You shook a finger at him emphatically. “I am no traitor.”

“Did you love my cousin?”

“Of course I did,” you said stoutly. The prince’s demise plagued you still, for you had been the one to spot Theodred’s body amongst the corpses that littered the fords. And after he’d been borne away to Meduseld, you never saw him alive again, and all you could do was weep in the privacy of your quarters, which you did for weeks, mourning the loss of so much more than a dear friend and mentor.

“No one has ever shown me greater kindness than Theodred.” You held a hand over your heart as a different ache rose in you. “He believed in me at a time when no one else would, not even you."

Eomer had fallen silent, but you saw his cloaked shoulders rise and fall, broad chest heaving in the manner so familiar to you. It was the way he looked on the battlefield, where his blood ran hottest, and he was fighting to balance out the genteel lord and savage killer that both resided within him. He was so thoroughly upset with you.

“If I have made you feel like your cousin’s fate was in any way your fault, I am truly sorry,” you said. "But what sort of questions are these, and why are you asking them now?"

His gaze flicked back in your direction, leaden with anguish. "You should know why."

“I am telling you I do not, my lord, and I must beg you to explain why you are speaking so cryptically."

“You wish for me to explain in words something I have been trying to show you for years now?!” He gave a strangled laugh and raised his eyes and hands to the night sky. "Bema…"

“It is as though you never really see me,” he muttered, almost as though speaking to himself. “Here I am, standing right in front of you, and you do not see me!"

But you did hear his mumbled complaints, and suddenly it was all too much. Your sickening weariness, your aches both physical and emotional, your befuddlement caused by the six drinks and this man's unhinged raging as he launched yet another ludicrous accusation at you.

"Not see you?" you repeated, and something about just saying it rammed open the gate behind which you had caged up every real thing you ever wanted to say to Eomer, Son of Eomund.

"If such a thing were possible, I would wish it upon myself immediately!" you exclaimed. "But you are all I ever see, even when I do not wish to! Even when I flee from your presence, I can never escape a face that refuses to leave my thoughts!"

Oh Valar, no. STOP. Panicked, you bit down on your lip to imprison the words fleeing your mouth, so hard you tasted blood. But Eomer suddenly moved forward, encroaching on the space you desperately fought to maintain for your own protection, and his hazel eyes locked into yours to wrench away the last of your defenses.

"It hurts too much, can you not understand?!" you cried, managing one step back. "To remain in the presence of the one thing you most desire but will never have, to be taunted by a dream that will never be fulfilled, to watch as it falls into the possession of another while you can do absolutely nothing!"

He spoke your name, his voice oddly hoarse, and shame finally came crashing down inside you. Your hands flew up to hide your face and suddenly he grabbed your wrists, tugging your arms away only to replace your hands with his own, warming your cheeks with his calloused palms.

“Then see me now,” he ordered. “And know I have always understood how that feels. What great fools we have both been all along to deny ourselves our true desires.”

“Eomer, what--” The stroke of his thumb over the corner of your mouth drove the rest of the words away, and the parting of your lips and flutter of your eyes gave him the approval he sought.

His kiss tasted more glorious than they did in a thousand daydreams combined. It did not surprise you that he was completely unlike the other men you had kissed before. Whereas lesser men were greedy and sloppy in their hunger, the caress of Eomer’s mouth was deep and languid, almost worshipful in its exploration of your lips, as though he aimed to savor every small sensation and intended to carry on doing this with you forever.

His one arm looped around your waist to hold you covetously against him; his broad left hand traveled from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, his long fingers burying themselves into your hair, tips grazing your scalp. It fired up a new heat in you that you had never felt before, not with such raw intensity, and a tremulous whimper escaped your throat.

But the sound of your own pleasure was your undoing, for it triggered an alarm in your head, one that caused you to break away from Eomer’s passion. You mumbled against his lips the words you had conditioned yourself for years to think around him.

“My lord, I cannot…”

He paused, his eyes still dazed and unfocused, caught in a state of bliss--one that you caused, you realized with a shiver. “You cannot… what?” he said thickly. Without waiting for an answer, he dipped back in eagerly to trail his mouth up your jawline, his tongue skimming the tender pulse underneath your ear.

You gave a small cry and pushed against his chest with more force, immediately waking his attention. His arm around your waist remained stubbornly secure however, and it took you physically prying the powerful limb off for you to slip free. Either due to shock or lingering delirium, Eomer did not resist.

“I cannot…” Your voice broke even as you clung to your resolve. “I cannot have you.”

His heavy brows furrowed. “What?” Within seconds the confusion lifted to uncover his dismay, layered with anger. “You would speak lies and nonsense again, after everything I told you?”

“It is the truth, Eomer!” You started backing away already, stepping faster and faster as he began to move and reach out for you. “You can never be anything more than a dream to someone like me. I cannot have what is already taken.”

“Taken? What--wait! No!” He started to run, but you had already turned heel and were sprinting full-speed towards the Citadel Gate. You had always been faster on your feet; there was no hope of him catching up if you refused to heed his orders. “Stop!”

His shouts of your name faded quickly, drowned out by the noise of the milling crowd you plunged into and the thunder of your own frantic heartbeat. You slowed to a walk but kept a quick pace, weaving haphazardly through the throng and on and on until you’d descended at least two levels. Only then did you duck into a side street and survey your surroundings.

Your escape succeeded. Neither Eomer nor any Rohirrim were anywhere to be found, at least for the moment.

You collapsed upon the nearest doorstep, exhaustion and aches finally overcoming you. As the chaotic whirlwind within you settled, so too did the reality of what just occurred sink in.

Eomer desired you, perhaps even loved you as you did him. But the King of Rohan’s love was not for you, a common soldier, to take. You had known that all along, and he did too. It was unkind of him to give you such false hope.

Raising your fingers to your swollen lips, you felt the ghost of his perfect kisses on them, and finally burst into tears over yet another memory that will grieve you until your trampled heart could bear no more.

To be continued...

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