#fiery vengeance time!!!

[shellem15]

My baby girl Desirat is FREE, letsgooo! She's so interesting to me I hope we see her in-session. I want to dissect her brain please and thank you. We dont know much about her but she's everything to me. Fucking firebird time baby!!!

[smartwatermagic]

Smartwatermagic "I can make you worse" dynamic but it's Al knowing his partners can be one of the biggest threats against Olympus and insistently trying to get them to turn their backs on the gods

Oh Olympus exiled him because he's a corrupting influence? WELL WHAT IF HE ACTUALLY BECOMES ONE, CHECKMATE OLYMPIANS—

[natalievoncatte]

There was a knock at Lena’s door, and it startled her awake. She was awake, but also wasn’t, sitting in a side chair beside her sofa with a glass of whisky still in her hand, loosely held by tired, nerveless fingers. It nearly fell from her palm when the sound jolted her from the twilight between fitful wakefulness and falling asleep sitting up. By her side was that goddamn picture, the glass still cracked. She grabbed it and forced it down so she didn’t have to see her grinning face, feel the ghost of a warm soft cheek lightly grazing hers.

The whisky made a fiery stab at her heart as she finished it and went to the door. She already knew who it was, the only person who’d dare disturb her at this hour, and who could get past her security.

Kara stood in the hall, clad in fluffy pajamas and disbelieved, tracks left by hot tears still cut into her soft rosy cheeks. There she was, the pretty little crying princess again.

It was an act. It was bullshit. The real her was hiding behind it, standing tall, appraising Lena’s faults with eyes that could burn mountains, the cold judgment of an extinct empire carved into her godlike, inhuman beauty. Lena made herself see that, refused to let her guard down.

“What, Kara?”

“Can I come in?”

Lena didn’t even answer. She began to close the door, only for her movement to be arrested by a single word.

“Please.”

Part of her made her stop. She seethed against it, hated it. She had carved icy knives of vengeance to carve it out herself. Alcohol had failed to drown it and the sharpest logic was dull against it. It was both too hard to crush and too soft to squeeze, this hateful thing that coiled around her heart and made her feel when she had sworn never to feel again.

Kara took a halting step forward. Lena threw out her palm and pressed it into her chests, stopping her.

She shouldn’t have done that. There was something heady and intoxicating in it. Kara froze in place, and Lena could feel her pulse along her collarbones. The pinnacle of alien might, strength so vast that nothing could stand as her equal, and she stopped from Lena’s lightest touch. That was power.

“What do you want?”

“Just to talk.”

“I’ve heard your apologies. Don’t waste my time unless you have some new material.”

Kara licked her lips. “Maybe.”

They couldn’t stay like this. Resting a hand on her chest had too many possibilities. Touching her had too many implications. It would be so easy to let the soft thing win and bring her hand up and hold her palm to that soft cheek and seek to balm those tears, make it better, care.

She let herself remember that Kara’s pain was a shoeld for Supergirl’s judging wrath and pulled back, but she didn’t close the door. Kara did as she slipped inside.

Thee was a heavy pause of silence, where Kara just breathed, soft and ragged.

“Why are you here?” said Lena.

“I needed to see you. I needed to know you’re safe.”

“Nightmares?”

“Worse,” said Kara. “It was so much worse.”

The agony in her voice shook Lena.

Forcing herself to composure, she poured another three fingers of single malt and flipped into her chair, extending neither drink nor invitation to Kara. The drink was a bad idea. It was dangerous. The smokey, hazy heat of it burned the soft bitter taste of regret from her teeth. Lena didn’t look at her.

“It was the imp.”

“Excuse me?”

“It calls itself Mxy. It says it’s from the fifth dimension but I have no idea if that’s true or not. All I know is that it has vast powers, even godlike. The last time it… it tried to force me to marry it.”

Lena knew what darkness in her birthed the hot rage in her gut, the possessive jealous fury that welled within her at those worse. This thing, how dare he.

She took a drink.

“It… he came to me tonight and said he wanted to make amends. He offered to let me change the past. I could fix whatever I wanted.”

“Hmm. Must have been a trick,” said Lena. “Let me guess, restoring Krypton had some ironic Twilight Zone twist.”

Kara blanched, blinking. “No, I… I didn’t even think of that. I asked him to help me fix us.”

There is no us, Lena began to say, but the words died on her tongue. She washed the taste away.

Something in her twisted, a cold shiver like a water dumped over her head. She knew Kara’s bullshit super senses would pick up on it and steeled herself.

Rubbing her arms, Kara paced.

“I tried telling you at different times, so you’d hear it from me and not Lex or someone else.”

“What happened?” Lena said, trying to look more interested in her whisky than the answer.

It was purely an intellectual curiosity, she told herself.

“You died,” Kara said, blunt. “You died every time.”

“How?”

Every which way. Reign killed you five or six times. Mercy blew your brains out all over my chest. Lex… Lex could be creative. Poison, blades, fire once. He was fond of sadistic choices and clever tortures. Say, use red wavelengths to negate my powers and set up a sadistic challenge I could never pass, that sort of thing. It got so bad I stupidly wished I’d never met you.”

Her voice was ragged, breathing uneven. Fresh tears glittered on her cheeks and Lena felt herself lunge, start to stand. Kara’s pain called out to something in her, something beyond the physical or even the emotional. It was like something in Lena’s soul yearned to stop that terrible pain.

“The worst was when you drowned. Almost.”

Lena looked away, swirled her drink.

“Sounds like you kept trying.”

“I did. The timeline where we never met was one of the worst. I wasn’t there when your chopper crashed. Your mother… you tried to kill me and I couldn’t even fight back.”

“Is this where we segue into the ‘I would never hurt you’ lecture?”

“No. I did hurt you. I deserve your hate. If someone else did to you what I did, I’d snap their neck.”

Lena flinched. There was something cold in that admission, something brutal and beyond even Supergirl. Raw.

None of her rules matter for me.

A tiny voice in that darkness whispered to her: And if some poor bastard locked her in a Kryptonite cage the way you did, they’d be begging you for death. They’d know you’re a Luthor.

Lena shuddered.

“What do you do?”

“I kept trying. I thought… I felt… I had to keep trying.”

“Well, you gave up and came here eventually. You…”

Kara swallowed hard. “It thought it worked, finally. I picked the night I reached you from Corben. Remember that?”

“I remember,” Lena said, hesitant.

Kara Danvers believes in you.

“I told you when you asked me why I saved you. I took you home, made sure you were safe. Life went on. These… these timelines or whatever they were, Lena, they were real. I lived them. That one was, it was…”

“What?”

“A few days later after things calmed down we went to lunch. We were just chatting about something unimportant and you looked at me and our eyes met and it was like…”

Kara looked away from her, wrapping her arms around herself the way she did, not a smug Supergirl pose but a woman shielding her heart from the world that clawed at it.

“When I first arrived on Earth there was a night where my powers had just kicked in and I looked at the sky. I could see more than stars. There was an aurora that was invisible to humans. I could see invisible lines of energy crackling between the stars, the cosmic background radiation shimmering on the dark. Can you imagine that? I can see the remnants of the Big Bang when I stargaze.”

Lena’s had trembled, the dregs of her booze shaking in the bottom of the glass.

“It was like that,” said Kara. “I knew I’d never be the same. I was staring at you like a big goof and you just stopped talking and stared back. I blurted out ‘is this a date?’”

Lena clutched the glass so she wouldn’t drop it and forced the tears back with all her might, but she was weak. Always weak.

“I take it I said yes,” she managed to say, voice quivering.

“We got married three years later. Lori was born a year after that.”

“Kara,” Lena began.

“Then it happened.”

“Kara, shut up.”

“Kalibak killed you. My sister. My little girl. My everything.”

Lena hurled the glass and Kara snatched it from the air in a superhuman blur. Lena was already on her feet, stabbing an accusing finger.

“So what?” Lena demanded. “We’re star-crossed lovers, now? Is this your ploy to fix it? Make me realize how in love we are? It’s a sick joke, Kara.”

“I know I can’t fix it,” said Kara. “I don’t want to.”

Lena blinked, her rage momentarily cooled. “What?”

“I would rather live in a world where you hate me as long as you’re still in it.”

“Kara,” Lena said.

“We are star-crossed. I don’t know want I did to deserve this but I can’t fix it. There was never a right time to tell you. It was doomed from the start. I’m here to tell you to let me go, Lena.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I know about Non Nocere. I know what you’re trying to do. I’m here to ask you to stop. Please. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin you life over me.”

“Why couldn’t you just save me and leave?” Lena demanded. “That’s what everyone else gets. A quick rescue and a wave and a wink and you’re gone. Why did you have to drag yourself through my life and wreck everything?”

“I tried that.”

Lena screamed, bellowed at the top of her lungs.

“So what? So fucking what, Kara?”

Kara just stood there.

“I don’t know. I just… I just had to see… all I want is for you to be safe.”

Lena turned away from her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Kara choked out, behind her. “I did go back to Krypton one time. I told him I wanted to stay and die with my world, that it was the only way.”

“Let me guess, you did that and…”

“Car accident.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Lena cried. “You have to be kidding me.”

“He made me watch. Not just you, everyone else that died because there was no Supergirl. I… I think I’m in Hell.”

Lena blinked. She turned slowly. A memory came flooding back to her from another time, a closed casket in a small Irish church with Lionel Luthor lurking, waiting for her with an entourage. She’d asked the priest in her precious child voice, am I in Hell, Father?

A sob forced itself out of her. She let herself look at Kara, standing there bedraggled and teary eyed in rumpled Hello Kitty pajamas and felt sick, like she’d swallowed a belly full of rancid oil. All she could see was the hurting, and she wondered if that was it, if this pain was the source of the unbreakable quantum entanglement that had dragged this alien being across a gulf of stars to fuck up her life.

Or save it.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into my life.”

“I’m not,” Kara whispered. “It was a gift, every minute of it. I wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything. Even the ones that didn’t happen.”

“What the hell do we do?” said Lena.

“I leave. I keep saving you. You find someone else, live your life, be happy. I do everything I can to keep you in this world and watch you grow old. That’s it. I should go.”

Kara turned and Lena screamed, balling her fists.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave this penthouse, Kara Danvers.”

Kara froze.

“I went back.”

“Went back to what?” said Kara.

“I went back to let you out of the Kryptonite cage. I couldn’t stop thinking of you lying on that cold floor in pain so I had to go back, but you weren’t there. I… I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I want to stop this but I just keep going and I don’t know what to fucking do anymore. I’m so lost.”

Kara’s shoulders slumped.

“I would take it back if I could.”

Kara turned back to her.

“You don’t have to.”

Lena backed away, unable to look at her. Kara crossed the gap in seconds and tenderly rested her hands on Lena’s arms.

“I’m sorry. I mean it. I am truly sorry from the depths of my soul. I would fix this if I could.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” said Lena. “It makes my soul hurt, and I don’t believe in souls.”

Lena pulled her in, clinging to her as if she might disappear. Kara was tentative, testing with every movement.

God, they had a daughter. A child! Lena could imagine, almost see… what had she done?

“It’s going to be okay,” Kara said. “I think this is what I was supposed to learn.”

“What?”

“To own my mistakes, and if I don’t want you to be a villain, I shouldn’t treat you like one.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I should go home and let you rest. This is a lot, I know, and it’s late. I…”

Kara trailed off, and Lena looked up at her. Their eyes met, and Lena… knew.

“Will you come back?” said Lena.

“Always.”

[screamingwailing]

Jealous/Aggressive!König x Reader Fic

CW: possessive!König, afab reader, oral (giving and receiving), aggressive unprotected sex, p in v action

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König is usually so kind and patient with you, so careful not to scare you or make you feel unsafe with his massive frame and dominating presence. He’s aware of how intimidating he can be, he normally strives for it, lives off the feeling of instilling fear. It’s how he’s so good at his job.

But…he isn't like that with you, never with you.

When he’s with you, Colonel König fades away, he just becomes yours. He can melt away from the blood, the death, the carnage. You’re his sanctuary. 

So when he comes back after a long mission and he sees you still up, playing a game with one of those fucking friends of yours - friends that he can hear are men - he snaps and loses it.

With your headphones on you don’t even hear him open the door, don’t see him stalk into the room, jealousy and spite in his eyes.

All he wanted when he came home was to unwind into you, to turn into the person he only ever was and could be with you, and some random nobody was in the way of that. He couldn’t have that. 

Without so much as a sound, he quickly turns you around in your chair, ripping your headset off, and muffling your frightened sounds with his massive hand. For the first time, you looked at him with fear. Why did he love it so?

Standing over you, hand covering your mouth and most of your face, gripping your head with a strength and force not familiar to you, you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. Gone is the man you fell in love with, in front of you was a monster no different from any other man on the battlefield. 

He glares down at you with a fiery vengeance. “I’m home meine Kleines.” 

Your head desperately moves, trying to escape his grasp, König gently tuts at you. 

“Ah-ah, meine Liebe. What do you think you are doing? Did you not miss me?” His voice practically came out in a hiss, sneer under his mask.

You look up at him, a pleading look in your tear-filled gaze. You did, you missed him more than anything. Why else would you stay up all night playing games with people you barely cared to remember the names of? Why else would you have a constant stream of distractions? The loneliness in absence of your king was all-consuming. But this wasn’t him, surely. Your König would never hurt you, never scare you like this.

He brings his other hand up to his masked face, signaling you to be quiet. You nod as much as he allows. Satisfied by your obedience, he slowly shifts the hand covering your mouth to instead firmly grab your chin and cheeks, his thumb and forefinger wrapping around you with a dull pain.

 “Doll, why is it that when your king came home to you, you weren’t waiting in bed? Did my absence mean nothing to you? Were you off trying to find someone new?” At this, the grip around you tightens, causing you to wince, tears falling down his fingers.

Seeing you wince, König falters for just a moment, his grip loosening just enough to allow you to speak. 

“N-no! I-…I would never! Please, why are you being like this, what did I do wrong?” 

Wrong answer. As if possessed, König’s eyes darken and grow cold once more. “Lügen! You lie, little mouse.”

He looms over you, rage and turmoil in his gaze. Desperate to get through to him, your voice becomes shrill with desperation. “I’m not lying, I promise! Please, you’re hurting me, let go!” 

König considers this for a moment, then cocks his head to the side, his eyes almost glowing red from the light of your computer. “Nein, I will not let go of you again. It seems I need to remind you who you belong to.” 

You gulp, your fear tingling with arousal. Regardless of his fearsome state, you can’t help but feel your body react to his words, your legs squirming together. König’s eyes flick towards the movement, not missing your reaction. 

Voice filled with an almost childlike mirth, he chuckles at this. “Ah, it seems your body remembers, even if its treacherous owner strays.”

He leans towards your head, breathing your scent in deeply. “I have missed you, so, meine Liebe. If only you had stayed good for me…if only I were enough for you.” 

Your eyes meet his, his mask still covering a majority of his expression. You don’t understand, he was his normal affectionate self when he had left for his most recent mission. You can feel your pulse rapidly beating in your throat, but still, you can’t help but notice the pain in his eyes. And even more obvious than this, the protruding bulge in his tactical pants. You’re afraid…you’re afraid but…it’s still König. You’d trust him with your life. You sharply inhale through your nose, closing your eyes momentarily, then exhaling and meeting his gaze once more. You’re no longer afraid. 

His massive hand is still gripping your face tightly, but he notices the change in your demeanor and steps back in confusion. You gently reach out, as if scared to frighten him. Your much smaller hand wraps around his wrist, pulling his hand back up to your throat. 

“I missed you too, König. More than you could ever know. You know you’re the only one for me. You’re my everything.” Your eyes look up at him with pure adoration, bordering on obsession. 

König looks at you, conflicted, before his eyes harden once more. He steps forwards, his hand tightening around your throat. “Prove it to me. Prove to me that I am the only one for you.” 

He lets go of your throat, instead guiding your head towards his straining bulge. Without wasting a moment, you lunge forward, as if starved. In a way, you were; it had been so long since your king had been home with you. You make sure to lock eyes with him as your teeth close around his zipper, pulling it down agonizingly slow. He groans in anticipation, his fingers sliding through your hair. He impatiently tugs, urging you on. Wanting to please, you kiss him through his boxers, suckling and gently biting along his shaft through the fabric. 

“Enough teasing, Liebe. I want your mouth around me” He grits out, his pupils blown out in arousal. 

Your heart rate increases again, this time in anticipation, as you tug his clothing down. His cock bounces up against his stomach and you almost moan at the sight. Without wasting any time, you engulf his tip between your lips, making sure to wrap your tongue around at the same time. He hisses in surprise, his cock already starting to leak in your mouth. You suck harder on his tip, savoring the taste of him. You lock eyes as you take him deeper, tears already forming from the stretch in your mouth. His head falls back for a moment, lost in pleasure, before gripping your hair tighter. 

“Deeper” he growls out. It’s not a request, it’s an order, and you’re more than happy to comply. 

Taking him deeper, you gag around him. He’s so fucking big, you can barely continue. You wrap your hands around his thick shaft, making sure to pump whatever you can’t fit in your mouth. Your drool drips down him, mixing with his precum. You moan around him, bobbing your head faster, trying to take him as deep as you can.

“Scheiße, that’s it. Such a good little whore for me. God, have I missed this mouth.” 

König looks down on you, shoving your head down further as his eyes roll back in pleasure. You gag around him, tears streaming down your face. You aren’t used to him manhandling you like this, but you can’t deny what it does to you. You feel the heat between your legs, the growing wet spot in your underwear only getting worse with each passing moment. Something about the utter possession and loss of control makes you crazy, your mouth bobbing faster, drool dripping all the way down to König’s heavy balls. 

Looking up at him with your tear streaked cheeks and red eyes, König can’t help but groan at the sight, his balls tightening. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, especially since it’s been so long since he last felt you. 

König’s grip on your hair grows painful as he lets out a low moan. “Kleines, take it for me. I’m going to cum down your throat. You’ll be such a good whore and swallow it all for me, ja?” 

You hum your approval around him, groaning in anticipation. The vibration sends him over the edge and you feel hot liquid spurt down your throat. As promised, you do your best to swallow every drop, your mind hazing with the taste and overwhelming sensation of König all around you. Despite your best efforts, you begin to choke, his cum seemingly never ending. He pulls your head back, finishing his climax on your face. You look up at him with a look of utter bliss, eyes clouded in lust, cum dripping down your face and down your chin. 

“My god, look at you, Schatz. So perfect for me, such a good little cumslut. Gutes Mädchen.” König’s voice is gravelly from the pleasure, praise spilling from his lips like a prayer. 

His strong arms lift you up as he carries you to your bedroom. Completely cumdrunk, you don’t even notice until you feel him throw you onto the bed. Like a predator stalking his prey, König’s massive frame draws closer, the bed creaking under his weight. He grips your thighs strong enough to bruise as he spreads them. He lifts his mask up just enough to show his chiseled jaw and scarred lips, his long tongue tracing his near fang-like canines as he takes in the delicious sight of you before him. 

“Meine Kleine, you did so well for me. Let me reward you” König practically purrs out, before he lifts your legs upwards as he dives towards your heat. 

Still cumdrunk, you moan at the sudden pleasure, your mind further clouding with König’s skilled tongue at work. You feel him expertly work you, his tongue pushing deep within you as he thumbs your clit. He groans against you and you can feel his grin against your cunt. His nose presses against your clit as he pushes his tongue in deeper, adding a finger to further your pleasure. You feel his finger push up against the spot that makes you see stars as his tongue slips out of you and over your sensitive clit. You scream out, unable to stop your cries. This only spurs him on more, König positively ravenous for you, drinking in every noise you make. He noisily laps around your clit, sensing your oversensitivity, as he adds a second thick finger. You whine at the stretch, wanting more while also adjusting to the intrusion. 

“P-please, König! I need you, please, please-” you beg for him, watching his breath quicken in response. 

König pulls away from your dripping pussy to shush you,“Shh, patience, Schatz. All in due time.” 

You whine in response, attempting to buck your hips against his face. He holds your legs tighter, squeezing them and pulling them more firmly while pushing you against the bed. You can’t help but twitch in response, loving how easily he can maneuver you. One hand is enough to hold you down while the other brutally fucks into your heat, relentlessly thrusting his fingers in and out of you, palm slapping against your clit as he laps around your folds. You can feel your climax building, keening and squirming in his grasp. A silent scream escapes your lips as you feel König wrap his mouth around your sensitive nub, sucking your clit while still working your soaking cunt. 

“There it is, Schatz, let go for your King. Show me that you belong to me, that you will only cum for me.” 

Your release rips through you violently, your vision going white as your entire body lifts and shakes, trembling through the powerful orgasm. König continues to roughly finger you through it, torturing you with his continuous ministrations. He smirks down at you as you attempt to squirm away. 

“Now, now, Liebe. You didn’t think I would be satisfied with just that, did you? I know you can cum again for me.” 

König latches his mouth around you once again, his fingers rhythmically abusing your sensitive insides, pumping them against your spot over and over. You scream as another orgasm is ripped from you, tears once again streaming down your face. Panting from the overexertion, your legs quake and twitch. 

“Gutes Mädchen, such a good slut for me” König looks at you smugly, pride and confidence clearly showing in his eyes. 

Still between your legs, you feel something hot against your entrance. König continues to grip your legs tightly, looking at you with a new glint in his eyes: a look of predation, of total need and lust. You shudder, another wave of arousal hitting your already exhausted body. 

“Are you ready, meine Liebe?” König looms over you, a toothy grin set on his face as he pushes inside you. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes back as you’re entirely filled, the stretch of König’s fingers nothing in comparison to his monstrous cock. Long and girthy, he fills you like no one else, reminding you with each thrust just who you belong to. As he pounds into you, your throat becomes raw with broken sobs and moans. He fucks you like an animal, all need and desire, carnal nearly to the point of pain. König folds you in half with his massive frame, tantalizing moans and grunts coming from above you as he fucks you faster. 

You can tell he’s about to cum, to completely fill you inside and mark you as his. As his orgasm approaches his thrusts become erratic and impatient, sounds of skin slapping against skin and dueted moans filling the otherwise quiet bedroom. You’re about to cum for a third time, this time with him. 

As König’s orgasm tears through him he lunges his mouth forward, attacking your throat with his sharp canines. Practically growling around your throat, he marks you both inside and out, painting your insides with his cum while he draws blood on your throat. 

He collapses on top of you for a moment before slowly rising and looking at your fucked-out expression. As if the spell on him finally dissipated, König calms for the first time since his arrival. He gently strokes your sweaty hair from your face, kissing your forehead. He collapses back against your chest, clinging to your form tightly. “I..I’m sorry, meine Liebe. When I was in the field you were all I thought of. Every day, I only thought of returning to you. To come home to you speaking to another, I couldn’t bear it.” 

You sigh softly before looking at him with a soft smile before saying the words you’ve been practicing in secret, “Du bist mein ein und alles, König”.  

His eyes widen at this, then soften and close once more, finally content and at peace with his love. No more words need to be exchanged, you both understand what you mean to one another. Finally, you could rest with your König. 

hello meowdy! this is my first fic, pls b kind ;;

[idkyetxoxo]

Criston Cole - Cruel Fates

Summary - In a world of forbidden desires and shifting loyalties, a passionate yet doomed love story unravels, leading to betrayal, fiery vengeance, and the haunting realization that some emotions can destroy everything they touch.

Pairing - Criston Cole x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2128

Masterlist for Criston • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Ser Criston Cole and I shared a relationship that defied easy categorization, some might label it purely transactional, one where our time together was driven solely by carnal desire. 

There was no pretense of affection, no facade of deeper connection, just the mutual pursuit of pleasure.

As I lay beneath him, I felt the familiar heat building between us. "No, wait," I murmured, my voice soft as I shifted slightly on the bed, causing him to pause for a brief moment.

"Continue," I urged, adjusting myself to better accommodate him as he resumed his rhythm, thrusting into me with a deliberate intensity. 

My fingers curled around the sheets, my head thrown back in a rapture of sensation as his movements grew more forceful, his deep grunts of exertion mixing with my own breathy moans. 

I moved my hips in perfect synchrony with his, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure coursing through my body.

"Keep quiet," he whispered, his tone commanding but laced with a hint of amusement. I couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh, the sound escaping me despite his warning.

"How can I," I replied in a low, teasing tone, "when you're doing such a good job?" 

My words brought a satisfied smirk to his lips, and he leaned in to kiss me, his mouth capturing mine in a fervent attempt to stifle the cries that spilt from me.

His hand slid between us, fingers finding that sensitive spot he knew all too well. He began to rub slow, torturous circles, driving me closer to the edge. 

The dual sensations, his relentless thrusts and the delicious friction of his hand sent me spiralling into a state of bliss. My eyes fluttered closed, my vision blurring as pleasure overwhelmed me, my body trembling beneath his expert touch.

The tension between us built to an overwhelming crescendo, every movement driving us closer to the edge. As his rhythm became more erratic, his breathing ragged, I could feel the inevitable climax approaching. 

His grip on my hips tightened, his pace quickening until finally, with a guttural groan, he reached his peak. He spilled onto my legs, the warmth of it spreading across my skin.

I let out a small, exasperated sigh, shaking my head as I tutted. "You always leave such a mess," I teased, my tone half-serious, half-amused.

He chuckled, a low, rough sound still laced with the remnants of his release. 

"I have to," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How else would I explain myself if the King's little sister ended up with child?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that, he was right, of course, our relationship was dangerous, forbidden, and he was always careful to cover his tracks.

As I lay there, catching my breath, I couldn't shake the feeling that had taken root deep within me, no matter how much I tried to ignore it. 

Everyone around me would likely scoff at the idea, dismiss our relationship as nothing more than a transactional fling, a reckless pursuit of forbidden pleasure and perhaps they were right but even so, in the quiet moments like this, when the world fell away and it was just the two of us, I couldn't deny the faint stirrings of something more. 

A part of me, no matter how small, felt something for him, something that went beyond the physical, beyond the thrill of our stolen moments.

It was foolish, I knew. Dangerous, even but the feeling was there, persistent and undeniable, lurking in the corners of my mind as I gazed at him, wondering what, if anything, lay beneath his careful facade.

Yet, all of that changed the day he played a part in betraying my niece, the true queen. 

The man I thought I might have had feelings for revealed himself as an enemy, and my heart hardened in response.

Now, I found myself in a precarious situation. What was supposed to be a simple scouting mission with Silverwing, my dragon, to keep watch over King's Landing from a distance had taken an unexpected turn. 

Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As we soared through the skies, my eyes caught sight of a group of knights below, and among them was none other than Criston Cole himself.

Anger surged within me, and I steered Silverwing into a swift descent, chasing after the knights who were attempting to flee under the cover of the trees. 

"Sīmās, Silverwing!" I commanded urgently, urging her to rise as we narrowly avoided the forest's grasping branches. Rise.

Circling above, I strained to spot them again. Silverwing screeched beneath me, her frustration mirroring my own. Below, hidden among the trees, Ser Gwayne and Criston were barely catching their breaths.

"A good showing, Ser Criston," Gwayne panted, glancing up at the looming shadow of Silverwing above them. "I am in your debt."

Criston swallowed hard, his gaze flicking nervously to the sky. "They know we're here. They will be hunting. We must move under the cover of trees and by the cover of dark, starting tonight."

Gwayne turned to him, a questioning look in his eyes. "Was that not the late king's little sister? The same lady you've been bedding?"

Criston's jaw tightened, his eyes lifting momentarily as Silverwing let out another piercing screech. 

"Well, then we really have you to thank," Gwayne said with a hint of irony. "I'm sure it's the reason we will be spared."

Criston's expression darkened as he looked past him, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the treetops beginning to burn. 

"I'm not so sure about that," he muttered.

From above, rage consumed me, and my heart pounded with the force of my emotions. 

"Dracarys!" I commanded, my voice trembling with anger. Silverwing's body shook beneath me as she unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, setting the treetops ablaze. Dragonfire!

As the flames spread, tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. The pain of betrayal cut deep, sharper than any blade. 

"Sōvēs," I finally instructed, my voice choked with emotion, and Silverwing took flight from the partially burned forest, her massive wings beating against the smoke-filled air. Fly,

Below, Gwayne yelled over the roar of the fire, "Cole, how badly did you anger her?"

But there was no time for answers as their horses bolted, carrying them away from the falling, burning trees.

The flames behind them were a testament to the fury that now burned within me, a rage that could only be quelled by the justice I sought.

They found temporary cover in a secluded glade, far from the reach of the flames. They dismounted quickly, their breaths ragged from the exertion of their escape. 

Their horses were tethered hastily, their coats steaming from the heat and exertion.

Criston's usually composed demeanour was marred by a rare flicker of guilt. He stood to the side, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes cast downward as Gwayne turned on him, his voice a mix of anger and frustration.

"By the gods, Cole! How could you let this happen?" Gwayne's voice cracked with fury, his face flushed with both the heat of the fire and his own ire. "You knew this was coming. You knew they would come after us, and yet you played right into their hands!"

Criston winced at the reprimand, his face paling slightly. 

"I—" he began, but his voice faltered as he struggled to find the right words. "I didn't expect... I didn't know she'd come after us so fiercely."

Gwayne's glare was unrelenting. "That's a poor excuse. You saw her up there, didn't you? She's not just some fleeting affair. She's dangerous, and you should have been prepared for her retaliation."

Criston's jaw tightened as he glanced up at the sky. There was an almost pained expression in his eyes as he looked away. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to compose himself despite the evident turmoil within. 

"I know," he said quietly, the weight of his own regret heavy in his voice. "I should have anticipated her response."

Gwayne's anger didn't wane, but he seemed to sense the genuine remorse in Criston's tone. 

"You better hope we don't have to face her wrath again," Gwayne snapped. "Next time, we might not be so lucky."

Criston nodded, his posture hunched under the burden of his guilt. His silence was a stark admission of his own failure, his earlier confidence now replaced by a deep, unsettling regret.

Back at the dragonpit, I landed Silverwing with a rough thud. Dismounting clumsily, I stumbled to the stone ground, collapsing onto my knees. My head fell into my hands as tears streamed down my face, my body shaking with quiet sobs. 

The fierce screech of my dragon seemed to echo my own turmoil, reverberating through the night air.

I took a moment to compose myself, wiping my face with trembling hands. As I walked through the dimly lit corridors, each breath I took was a deliberate effort to regain control. 

When I finally reached the council room, the weight of my emotions was momentarily masked by the façade I had learned to wear. The room fell silent as I entered, the council members already primed for the details of my scouting mission.

"Ser Criston Cole," I began, my voice steady but my eyes betraying a hint of exhaustion. "With some half-dozen knights. I'm sure of it. Perhaps a scout party for a greater army."

"The ravens have confirmed it, Your Grace," someone chimed in, their voice a distant murmur as my thoughts drifted back to Criston.

Rhaenyra's voice broke through my reverie. "Could you be certain it was Cole from such a great height?" she asked, her tone tinged with scepticism.

I blinked, initially disoriented, but then nodded firmly. "It was not such a great height, Your Grace," I replied, trying to project confidence despite the inner turmoil.

Her gaze widened in surprise, but I maintained a composed facade, steeling myself against her scrutiny.

"You said not to engage, so I didn't," I added defensively. "Exactly."

"What do you mean by 'exactly'?" Jace leaned forward, his eyes searching mine with concern.

"The forest is partially burned," I said, rubbing my forehead wearily. The exhaustion was evident in my posture, but I fought to remain focused.

"You placed yourself in considerable danger," Jace said, his protective instincts flaring. His concern softened my gaze, but I remained resolute.

"Was it perhaps," Ser Alfred interjected, "a reaction to your past with Cole?" 

His words were laced with an insinuation that made my jaw tighten involuntarily. I gripped the edge of the council table, my knuckles turning white.

"What are you suggesting, Ser Alfred?" I spat, the edge of my voice sharper than intended. "Such accusations are nothing more than baseless gossip. To even imply so is to tarnish my reputation."

Alfred rolled his eyes, clearly unmoved by my indignation. The room was filled with the tense silence of unresolved issues, the air thick with the echoes of our heated exchanges.

"Ser Alfred, hold your tongue," Jace interjected, his eyes blazing with fury. "I will not tolerate such slander against the princess."

"You forget," Rhaenyra said, her voice icy but firm, "that she is the late king's sister, my father's sister. To speak of her in such a manner is not only disrespectful but wholly inappropriate."

I ran a frustrated hand through my already dishevelled hair, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on me. Without another word, I excused myself from the council room, my emotions too raw to contain.

As I moved through the dimly lit corridor, my hand clamped over my mouth, stifling the involuntary sobs that escaped me. The corridor seemed endless, each step echoing my despair. 

I leaned heavily against a cold stone pillar, my body trembling as I fought to stifle the cries that erupted from deep within. The confrontation in the council room echoed in my mind, amplifying my helplessness and frustration.

The cool stone beneath my fingertips offered little comfort, but it grounded me as I struggled to regain my composure. I took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within me. 

Each breath was a battle against the tears that threatened to fall, the weight of the council's accusations and the betrayal I had witnessed hanging heavily over me.

A different sort of pain, profound and personal, began to surface. I took another breath, my hand instinctively moving to rest gently on my stomach, where a new life was growing. 

Rubbing softly, I allowed myself a brief moment of comfort as I whispered to the child within me. "Even if your father's choices have brought nothing but chaos, I promise, you will be loved, and you will know a warmth that was true, even if it was damned."

It was as if the very act of loving was a sin, a cruel twist of fate that tore apart every fibre of my being.

A/n - Has to be one of my favourite pieces i've ever written! I also know hes a very hated character but his face card is lethal so I just had to include him.

[wonusite]

Sweet Dreams

❝ You dream about a beautiful man nearly every time you fall asleep. After getting to know him and everything about him, you see him outside of your dreams—in a museum painting. ❞

PAIRING: joshua hong x female reader

GENRE: vampire au, reincarnation au, angst, smut

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: vampire!joshua, human!reader, lucid dreaming, reincarnation, so much yearning, mentions of death, joshua is a brooding mess, protective!minghao, unprotected sex, blood play, biting, creampies

A/N: this has been long overdue, and i hope you guys like it! loosely based off this ask. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Fate.

A simple word that holds more power and venerability than any ruler of the middle kingdom. It’s a mystifying concept that follows no rules and simply is; something that can actively be changed but not avoided. Joshua learns this late in his long life—a derailment of his own making. The lesson comes to him in the form of a fiery witch running from her death.

As a creature that’s lived in solitude since he became immortal, it’s not in his nature to be helpful. It’s why he has no interest in saving the witch from the demons that are hunting her. This, however, doesn’t stop the insolent little witch from forcing herself into his sanctuary. He fights her on it, baring his fangs while saying the most despicable and bone chilling threats to her. The young witch isn’t fazed and makes it clear that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

In the end, he concedes. Not because she’s powerful enough to make him obey her, but because she reminds Joshua of himself when he was desperately clinging to his own survival. Perhaps that’s the reason he becomes inexplicably drawn to her. Josh almost feels like she’s bewitched him, and the most unusual part of it all is that he doesn’t care even if that is the case.

He seeks her out after he helps her despite knowing that it can’t possibly end well. Their kinds don’t mix, and it’s doubtful that two abominations can share something as sacred and beautiful as love. Fate has never allowed it before, but Joshua is foolish enough to try to defy destiny.

Courting the witch isn’t easy. Then again, anything that involves her never is. The witch is a firm believer in being reverent to the same fates that gave her the powers she wields while Joshua couldn’t care less about the fates that turned him into a monstrosity. This creates a disconnect between them because the witch is firm that she could never love such an irreverent creature.

This hardly deters him. Joshua is relentless in his chase, and after the longest decade of his life he’s finally able to win the witch’s thorn-covered heart.

And so, even just for the briefest moments, they’re allowed to create their own destiny with each other.

Loving someone, loving her, is the most addicting feeling he’s ever felt. The love he feels for the witch surpasses even that of his first love who he was convinced he’d never forget. Being with her is the happiest Joshua has ever felt, and he naively thinks it’ll last forever.

This all comes to an abrupt end when the witch finds out that it’s his fault the demons eradicated her coven. Yes, it was before Josh had met and fell in love with her, but that doesn’t change anything. It was still him who had put her on the brink of death and gotten her family and friends killed. Twisted as it is, he doesn’t regret his actions nor would he change them if he had an opportunity to do so.

And so, the love of his life becomes his most dangerous enemy.

It hurts. More so because she discards him and his love like they never meant anything in the first place.

The witch is cutthroat in her hatred. It’s not long before the children of the moon find his sanctuary and nearly send him to meet his maker. Her hexes nearly incapacitate him, but even all her acts of revenge aren’t enough to satiate the vengeance she seeks.

Slowly, the love they grew to feel for each other becomes wilted and corroded beyond repair.

Years pass, yet the feud never dies. Joshua is almost impressed by her determination to destroy him the same way he almost destroyed her.

Hatred has replaced love by now, and it’s almost impossible for him to believe he ever loved the witch in the first place. A decade passes, then two and three until eventually an entire century goes by with the two of them feeling this burning loathing. Their detrimental feelings and behavior push both Joshua and the witch to make a vow never to love again.

But fate has other plans for them.

As time goes on, they find themselves backed into a corner—together this time. Death has returned for them in the form of faes. Neither one of them is willing to relent and give up their land to the insignificant creatures who claimed to have it first. And so, they help each other one last time.

Fighting against inferior creatures together has always been like dancing for them, and it’s easy to fall back into a love language they created. By the end of their battle, they come out victorious. The two are grateful to each other even if neither of them say it outright.

Joshua feels a familiar ache in his chest the longer he stares at the witch who was once his. Feelings he thought were long gone rush back to the surface as if they’d never left in the first place. Perhaps they never really had. He’s never been one to go against his own desires, and so he reaches out for her, craving her skin against his if even for the last time.

Their embrace is sweet, but the kiss that follows is full of passion, longing, and ardent love that seems to have been buried deep within them the entire time. It’s almost like a dream to have her like this again, and now Joshua doesn’t plan on letting her go.

But once again, fate doesn’t leave him with a choice.

Humans grow more wary of the creatures they share the world with. Many go into hiding, but Joshua makes the mistake of thinking he can blend in with his prey. A hunter of his kind has found him, and as a vampire with no coven, he’s left vulnerable. It’s even worse when the hunter and his clan discover his lover and what she is.

It was a peaceful night when they’re attacked. Escaping death doesn’t seem possible, but as always the witch assured him that she has a solution. His love makes him a promise as she casts a spell that will hide his presence. A promise that she’ll find him and reunite with him in every lifetime. He’s confused by her words, but has no time to question her as the spell takes over and dulls his senses until he’s unconscious.

If he’d known his love was going to sacrifice herself for him, he would’ve taken a million wooden stakes to the heart rather than continue existing in a world without her.

Centuries later, he’s never been able to forget her or what her presence had done to his life. Joshua is left alone in a world that now seems intolerable without his witch in it. Cruel irony reminds him that the solitude he once basked in feels suffocating now. All he’s left with is a gaping hole that constantly reminds him of how he lost his one true love.

Joshua eventually joins a coven, but they offer little comfort. At this point in his immortality, he only sticks around them out of habit. It’s not that he isn’t fond of them—he is, most of the time—but it’s not the same as having his lover by his side.

After going through the eternal test of time, Joshua still yearns for her; craves her as much as the blood that he feeds on. It’s the reason he’s spent the last two centuries looking for the one person who filled his heart with so much love.

And he’ll stop at nothing until he finds her.

The first time it happened, you thought it was nothing more than a dream.

Which it was, but it felt different—it was different. Never in your life had you dreamt such a beautiful dream that felt so real and almost indistinguishable from reality. The most memorable part was the euphoric feeling it evoked from you.

Well, that’s not exactly right. There was one single element that had left you unable to forget the lucid dream. One that you believed was responsible for your subconscious forcing you into those dreams every time you fell asleep.

Unhealthy as it is, you chase the lucid dreams. Every night, you look forward to your sleep with the hope of once again being wrapped up in one of those lovely dreams. Any free time you’re left with is used to sleep just so you can escape to the ethereal dreamland your mind has created.

The dreams have ensnared you and make you crave and long for them as if you’re under some sort of spell. It’s become a bit of an obsession because even when you’re with other people it’s all you can think about. And yet you’re unable to let go of your obsession in spite of how unhealthy and irrational it is.

The scene in front of you is familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen the old castle that looks like it’s straight out of the medieval times. You step forward, feet moving on their own as you walk past the large doors. Servants run along with their head down, and you’re not sure why it makes you feel satisfied that they seem to be terrified of you.

“Y/N.”

You turn at the sound of a mellifluous voice. Once again, it’s the beautiful man who’d been visiting you in your dreams.

“Shua.” You call affectionately, running to him as he opens his arms for you.

As always, he catches you easily. You wrap your arms around his neck, softly giggling into his hair as he spins you around. “Where have you brought me this time?”

“This is where I live.” He tells you as you pull back to look at his face. “Do you like it?”

You look around again. The feeling of familiarity doesn’t go away as you inspect your surroundings. Joshua gently puts you down, but doesn’t release you from his embrace. His stare is gentle and observant, curious on how you’re going to react to what he’s showing you.

“This is really where you live?” You wonder in awe. “Are you a king or something?”

His pretty laugh makes you look back at him. Your heart leaps up into your throat when you see the fond look he’s giving you. It’s been months of being on the receiving end of his affectionate stare, but you’re not sure you’ll stop feeling bashful when you catch it.

“I am not. Does that disappoint you?”

You shake your head. “No, but it does make me wonder how old you actually are. Older than Dracula?”

All Josh can do is laugh and laugh. You’re not sure what he finds so funny, but as usual you do not get the chance to ask. The familiar pressure on your bones gets more intense with every passing moment. It’s how you know you’re on the verge of being pulled out of your blissful dream. You can’t even open your mouth to say goodbye because you’re abruptly yanked out of your subconscious before you can.

It’s always hard to keep going on with your day normally after you dream about Josh. You can never really function afterwards, not how you usually would.

“—even listening to me?”

You snap back into reality, realizing that Jeonghan has been talking to you this entire time. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and gives you an accusatory look that confuses you. His eyebrows are raised as he leans forward. “I was saying that Soonyoung thinks you’re fucking someone.”

“What?” You splutter, suddenly feeling extremely flustered.

“I told him there’s no way that’s true because lately you’ve been holed up in your room sleeping every chance you get!”

You manage to not choke on your spit and give your friend an indignant glare. “Both you and Soonyoung need to worry about your own sex lives.”

The gleam in his eye changes, and you realize too late that you’ve made a mistake. “Wait. Are you actually fucking someone?”

“You know I’m not!” You hiss, starting to feel embarrassed.

Clearly, Jeonghan doesn’t believe you. He stares at you before something seems to click in his head. Your nervous stare and angry pout are telltale signs of deceit. His jaw drops a bit as he lets out an affronted squeak.

“No way. That’s why you’ve been in such a good mood lately!” He says with a conniving laugh. “And here I thought that night cream I recommended is the reason you’ve been glowing lately.”

Maybe the most embarrassing part about this is not that he’s trying to discuss your sex life (or lack thereof) at the local cafe and not wine night, but the fact that this alleged glow has nothing to do with a man—not a real one, anyway. But Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that.

“You would’ve heard me if that was true.”

Jeonghan’s ears slowly turn red as he pouts in disappointment. He really hoped you’d managed to break your three month long dry spell, and he also wanted to be right. It’s almost suspicious that he isn’t because he usually is. You’ve been a little too smiley lately like you have some hidden lover.

“If you say so.” He mutters bitterly.

This would be the point where you’d usually panic since Yoon Jeonghan can never be one to let anything go if he feels like he’s right. You feel at ease though because there’s no way he could ever find out about Josh.

“By the way… you’re definitely going to be gone this weekend, right?” Jeonghan suddenly asks in a tone you recognize all too well.

You try not to gag as you nod. “Yes. I already bought the tickets and Hao is in the city setting up his apartment so I have a place to stay while I’m up there.”

Jeonghan smirks victoriously. He nods, not even trying to hide how pleased he is as he pulls out his phone. Suddenly, he’s very grateful that you and Minghao have such an interest in history. When he’s done sending a message you would definitely call sleazy, he just laughs at your disgusted expression.

“Don’t give me that look. Not all of us have to practice celibacy like you.”

“Whatever.” You scoff with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep it in your room this time. I better not find any stains on the couch when I get back.”

He only laughs at you with a promise that you can’t think of as sincere.

“Are you playing with your food again?”

The voice sounds distant as Joshua is gently pulled out of the trance he’s used to being in now. He slow blinks, remnants of the beautiful vision still clear in his mind. Junhui’s words don’t bother him like they usually would’ve. Not when he finally feels alive for the first time in centuries. Still, he can’t control the annoyance he feels that his brother thinks this subject is something that can be joked and talked about lightly.

“You and Soonyoung are the only heathens who play with food.” Joshua’s tone is clipped, bordering on that murderous one that pops up any time someone mentions his latest obsession.

Junhui only laughs, head cocking to the side in interest. “I’m curious. Did you really find the grand love of your life, or is it just some girl who happens to look like her?”

“His obsession wouldn’t be so profound if it was a girl who merely looks like her.” Comes a voice from the top of the grand stairs.

They look up to see the oldest and the youngest of the coven coming down the stairs. Soonyoung doesn’t bother to hide his amused smirk while Minghao wears the same impassive expression he had when Joshua met him. His lack of reaction is the reason why he’s often the voice of reason in the coven, but his callous way of speaking never offers any comfort.

“Our brother is looking for the soul of his beloved—a soul that cannot be replicated nor imitated. Even if he’s to find her doppelgänger, he will not love her completely or sincerely.” Minghao says he takes a seat near the burning fireplace.

Soonyoung sits on the other end of the couch before he raises an eyebrow at Josh. He lets out a mocking snicker. “It’s giving stalker.”

As the most recently turned, their youngest has developed a proclivity for imitating the current slang. Joshua understands it (to an extent), but finds it folly. Then again, he doesn’t think its ridiculous when that person uses it.

But of course, that’s different.

Josh doesn’t bother to sneer at him for his snide remark. As a creature who hasn’t found a mate in the entire century he’s been alive, Soonyoung couldn’t possibly understand the ardent need to be close to the person chosen to be your mate.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Junhui points out, sounding almost bored now. “Have you found her? Your one true love?”

When Joshua smiles, it’s so pretty that even Minghao can’t help but stare. “I have.”

“Are you going to turn her?”

Soonyoung’s question hangs in the air, and as much as Josh wants to hiss at him to mind his own business, he sees how Junhui and Minghao are also looking at him. Turning someone isn’t as simple as it used to be—if it could ever be considered simple. Now there were too many factors and too many risks involved.

“I have to find her physically before I can think of anything else.” Josh sighs deeply.

“Brother.” Minghao says in his serious tone. “Think of your next moves carefully. You’ve found her reincarnation, but she doesn’t remember you, and there’s no guarantee that she ever will.”

For once, the younger ones don’t say anything teasing or goading. They look at him just as solemnly as Minghao is. It’s a harsh truth that Joshua had acknowledged long ago but not fully accepted.

His love doesn’t remember him. This is a fact.

But even if she never does, he doesn’t plan on letting her go. Not again.

“You’re unhappy.”

The observation is astute, and even though it’s been months, you can’t get used to how easily Josh can see through you. It shouldn’t have the affect on you that it does, but there’s just something about having someone know you so well that makes your heart jerk with emotion. Part of you feels insane for feeling this way because this man is just a figment of your imagination created by your subconscious.

Josh smiles placatingly when he sees your pout. He’s sure that you’re not aware that you do it, which makes it all the more cute in his eyes.

“Work hasn’t been great lately.” You say honestly, only hesitating a moment before telling him the rest. “Also... Jeonghan set me up on this blind date. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, but I haven’t been on a date in forever.”

You’re not sure why it feels like you’re saying something absolutely heart wrenching. If you had to describe it, it’s almost like you’re admitting to cheating or something similar which is fucking insane since Josh isn’t your boyfriend—or real, for that matter.

There’s a shift in his kind eyes. A cold rage settles in the depths of his dark irises that makes you feel like you’re staring an evil creature in the face. Before you can ponder it, the expression is is gone so fast that you almost think you imagined it.

“You don’t have to go.” He finally says, and you wonder if he actually sounds like he’s pleading or if it’s just something your subconscious is hoping for.

A teasing smile stretches your lips. “Yeah? Should I just stay here with you, instead?”

Joshua wishes he could say yes. Stay with me and never leave my side again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, and even though he’s dying to say them, he knows he shouldn’t. In this lifetime and your previous one, he had to be patient when courting you. Clearly some things never changed.

“Don’t look so excited.” You joke when you see him hesitate.

His laugh is pretty and soft. You’re not sure why the sound comforts you in a way that almost feels familiar. As if that’s the one sound that could take away any horrible feeling you’ve ever experienced. The longer you listen to the dulcet sound, the more it makes your heart ache for a reason you can’t understand. It’s a type of yearning that feels deeper than the normalcy of seeing him every day.

“I wish you weren’t a dream.”

Joshua’s laughter dies down and the smile slips off his face at hearing your words. You almost regret saying them, but it’s too late to take them back. Not that you would since they’re the absolute truth. He knows you better than most of your friends do, and it’s hard not to feel this intense affection for him. The crazy part of it all is that you can literally feel how much he adores you too.

“Maybe you’re my dream.” Josh’s smile is full of longing and sadness.

Before you can respond, you’re abruptly pulled out of the dream by the blaring sound of a car horn. You startle awake, bleary vision belatedly registering that you’re now in the city. Minghao looks at you with wide eyes, a startled laugh slipping past his lips. “Are you okay?”

You nod wearily, taking a moment to shake of the intense emotions your dream had left you with. It’s clear that Minghao doesn’t fully believe you, but he doesn’t press the subject and keeps driving toward museum.

Being at the museum doesn’t help you as much as you hope. The artifacts and paintings are intriguing, but your irritating mind only keeps associating everything with Josh. He’s always talked like someone from another time so looking at ancient items and old paintings naturally makes you keep picturing his face.

“For someone who kept begging me to clear my schedule so we could come here, you don’t look very excited.”

You give Minghao a guilty look because you know how busy he is. “Sorry. I’m just kind of distracted.”

“And why is that?”

It’s not that you don’t trust Minghao. You do, but you can’t tell him that you’re infatuated with a man who shows up in your dreams.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your friend raises an eyebrow at you. As usual Minghao sees right through your half-truth. “You’ve been having nightmares?”

“Not exactly.” You say. The resolve to keep your secret quickly dissolved when Minghao gives you a look that somehow always compels you to do what he wants. “I can’t sleep because I keep dreaming of a guy.”

“A guy?” Minghao raises his eyebrows in a way that reminds you of Jeonghan.

“It’s not like that.” You say, skin heating up in embarrassment. “I don’t even think he’s real. He just keeps appearing in my dreams, and I feel crazy every time I think about him.”

Minghao doesn’t laugh or tell you you’re crazy. Instead he looks at you with a sharpened gaze that looks like it holds a certain amount of concern and something else you can’t discern. If his heart was capable of beating, his heart rate would’ve spiked at the information you told him.

You’re vague in your description (which was impressive because his gift is powerful enough to get people to admit to murder), but it’s enough to have his mind reeling. Is it possible that you’d fallen into the clutches of an incubus? Minghao isn’t overly fond of humans, but you’re different. He can’t let you become the prey of such a lascivious creature.

“I have some tea that’s good for sleeping." He says as normally as he can as you two walk along the museum. “When we get back to my place, I’ll give you some.”

You nod silently, not entirely sure if his teas will help with your lucid dreaming. Even if they did, it’s not like you want to stop seeing this imaginary man that makes you feel more loved than you ever had. But there’s a part of you that knows you can’t keep sleeping with the hopes of seeing Josh again.

The inner turmoil you’re feeling is interrupted when Minghao pulls you to the section he’d been dying to see from the beginning. His laughter immediately makes you come back down to earth. It’s not like your friend never laughs, but this one is full and louder than you’ve ever heard it. You’re not sure why he finds the painting of a duke so funny. Just as you’re about to question him, you see the painting and feel the world around you come to a stop.

It feels like your heart stopped beating and dropped down to your stomach. Your usually quiet mind is reeling, trying to fathom what you’re seeing. There’s no way.

The painting is of a man, but not just any man.

It’s Josh.

Your Josh.

You keep blinking as if another face will appear in the very old painting. If you felt crazy before, the feeling worsens the longer you stare at the oils that form the face you’ve come to memorize and love. The description of the painting says the man born in 1714 was a famous duke notorious for starting a rebellion against the crown.

“So this is the only painting of the Hong Jisoo?” Your friend cackles, but you’re not sure what’s so funny.

It’s good that he’s so distracted by whatever it is he finds so funny because you’re about two seconds away from breaking down. How is it possible that some duke from centuries ago was appearing in your dreams? Is it possible that you’d somehow seen his image before and projected it into your dreams? You don’t remember even reading about him, and it only makes you feel more crazy.

Back at Minghao’s luxury apartment, you can’t stop thinking about that stupid painting of Hong Jisoo. How is it possible for you to dream about a person that was alive centuries ago? It doesn’t make sense, and the more you think about it, the more freaked out you feel.

“Here.” Hao says as he hands you a warm mug of tea. “Drink it to see if it helps. I’ll give you some to take home if you like it.”

You thank him, really hoping this puts an end to your unhealthy dreams.

“It’s not working!” Josh growls angrily. “There’s something blocking me from seeing her. I’m sure of it.”

Soonyoung and Junhui roll their eyes. Josh has been complaining about not being able to transcend into his true love’s subconscious for the last three hours, and it’s starting to drive them insane. It’s not that they’re not sympathetic, but it was quite literally the only thing the older vampire could talk about. Not to mention the fact that after months of visiting his mate every day, he did nothing to figure out where she was—a total waste in their opinion.

Before Josh can keep repeating the same frustrated things he’s been griping about all morning, they hear the door open and the familiar sound of boots clacking against the marble floor.

“Minghao!” Soonyoung cries when the oldest of the coven walks into the living room. “Finally, you’re back! Jisoo hasn’t stopped whining about his mate since you left! You need to put a stop to him!”

Minghao sets down his suitcases with an exhausted sigh. “What’s going on?”

“He claims there’s a barrier preventing him from entering his mate’s subconscious.” Junhui explains, sending a skeptical look Joshua’s way. “Which is impossible because a mere human isn’t capable of blocking his gift.”

While that is true, there are certain things humans have done for centuries to ward off creatures of the night. However, it is strange that there’s a sudden block to his mate’s subconscious after being left vulnerable for so many months.

“Perhaps your mate has realized that you’re a nefarious creature and not just a figment of her imagination.” Minghao muses as he goes to sit at his usual place by the fire. “If that’s the case, she may have sought out a witch to block her psyche from unsavory visitors.”

The dark look Josh sends his way is amusing to the rest. Maybe it’s cruel to disregard the anguish his brother clearly feels, but being empathetic has never been one of Minghao’s character traits. Even so, some of the humanity he once had still lingers within him.

“However, if you truly wish to find her I can contact Jihoon—”

“No.” Josh snaps immediately. The growl in his voice is menacing as his eyes darken. “I’ll find her on my own.”

The silence that follows is tense until Soonyoung breaks it by insisting on seeing pictures from Minghao’s trip. As always, he obliges to the youngest’s request, tossing his phone over without taking his eyes off Josh.

“If that were possible you would have already found her.”

It’s a frustrating truth. He hadn’t been able to figure out anything that would help him find you because he didn’t want to scare you off. Now he regrets playing the part of a gentleman because it feels like he’s lost you all over again.

“Is this the human you’re always talking about?”

Usually, Josh doesn’t take any interest in humans aside from his meals, but the way Minghao’s sharp gaze switches to an almost fond one intrigues him enough to look at the screen Soonyoung is holding out toward them.

It’s like his heartbeat comes back to life when he sees a video of a beautiful girl staring at one of his old swords.

“Yes. That’s—”

“Y/N.”

Minghao looks at Josh in surprise. He’s incredulous, but it’s soon replaced by horror when he realizes why his brother is looking at the phone with a predatory gaze.

“You…” Minghao’s icy tone makes the younger ones still. They recognize the murderous intent behind that tone instantly. “You’re the one who’s been invading her dreams.”

Josh snarls at his oldest friend. “You’re the one responsible for the barrier.”

It’s like watching two animals raising their hackles at one another. Except both of them are capable of destroying each other and everything around them without caring.

Junhui is quick to step in, holding a firm hand to Minghao’s chest. “She’s his mate.”

It’s meant to make him see reason, but all it does is anger Minghao.

“A mate that he betrayed time and time again!” His words make them all flinch. “You’re the reason those hunters found her and burned her alive!”

Never has a silence so thick and tense surrounded them before. It’s a low blow to bring up Josh’s greatest pain in such a way, but Minghao is beyond seeing reason at this point.

“Both of you need to calm down.” Soonyoung says as he stands in the middle.

“Do you have feelings for her?” Josh demands, not understanding why the person who had helped him search for his mate’s reincarnation for centuries was suddenly acting this way.

“She’s a pure soul.” Minghao says, sounding a little defeated. “One that doesn’t deserve to become a monster like us.”

It’s tense and silent again, but this time the air feels different. All four of them knew how painful and awful it was to turn. Back then, they had been the unlucky ones to survive an attack when they were meant to be someone’s food. Minghao wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you.

“Let her decide.” Soonyoung breaks the silence, being reasonable for the first time in a long time. He looks to Josh, gaze as serious as ever. “If you really love her, tell her the truth and let her decide what to do.”

Minghao has always been an enigma. He’s private to the point where you sometimes feel like you don’t know him at all. It’s why you’re so surprised when he invites you over to his main house which is basically synonymous with prohibited. He never invites anyone there, not even Jeonghan who’s known him longer than you have.

Your friend’s home is expectedly opulent and beautiful, but there’s also this ominous air surrounding it. Minghao remains silent as he leads you to the entrance. His somber attitude isn’t exactly uncharacteristic. He’s naturally quiet and serious, but right now he almost seems angry. You can tell his mind is far away, light years away even.

Before you can think to question him, he leads you to the living room and sits you down on one of the couches. His cold hands don’t move from your shoulders even after you’re seated. You look up at him in curiosity because he seems to be contemplating something.

“Don’t be angry with me.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and you have to wonder what he’s done for him to plead with you like this. (Xu Minghao does not beg.)

Hands fall from your shoulders as Minghao side steps out of the way. Everything goes in slow motion from then on. He’s stepped out of the way to reveal a man who you recognize very well. Your heart jumps and starts to beat erratically as you take in his ethereal features.

What’s happening feels like a more intense version of what happened at the museum. Minghao’s friend(?) looks exactly like Josh. He even looks at you like Josh does.

“Y/N.”

The organ in your chest throbs at the sound because it’s so soft and pretty, just like it is in your dreams. He sounds so similar to Josh that you feel insane for wanting to run into this man’s arms like you always do with Josh in your dreams.

Your mind is a beat behind, and it’s only after this stranger called your name that you realize Minghao had apologized to you before he appeared. When you look over to your friend, he’s observing you carefully in a way you can’t understand.

“What’s going on? What is this?” You ask, feeling like you’ve been set up.

There’s a thick silence, and just when you contemplate on getting up to leave, the unknown guy falls to his knees in front of you.

“Please forgive me.”

Your eyes practically pop out of your head at the unsolicited apology. “I– What?”

The silence is uncomfortable, and you can only look back to Minghao for an explanation.

“You’ve seen Jisoo before—in your dreams.” Minghao says slowly as if it pains him to tell you.

Jisoo?

“When you told me that a man kept reappearing in your dreams, I thought you were being preyed on by an incubus.” Minghao chuckles bitterly. “But I was a fool not to see that the truth was much worse.”

“Incubus?” You whisper incredulously. “You mean those demons that fuck people while they’re asleep?”

Neither men react to your crude words. They’re looking at you solemnly as if Minghao didn’t just say something completely insane. None of it makes sense nor does it provide you with the explanation you demanded.

“You can’t be serious! Incubuses—“

“Incubi.” Minghao corrects you. He regrets it as soon as he sees the dark look on your face.

“—don’t exist.” You finish through gritted teeth.

“They’re not the only demons running rampant on this earth.” Minghao says as he shares a look with the man who is still kneeling in front of you. “Just look at the monster in front of you and you’ll know what I’m saying is true.”

This Jisoo guy looks nothing like a monster. Not even as he’s giving your friend the most withering glare you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t give me that look. I brought her here so she can know the truth.”

At this point, you don’t know if they’re friends or enemies with the way they’re glowering at each other. And you still don’t know what truth they’re talking about, either.

“Jisoo has been trying to find you for centuries.” Minghao finally says, eyes softening just the tiniest bit when he looks back at you.

You don’t say anything because it all sounds like some crazy lie. Minghao isn’t the type to pull pranks, but there’s no other logical explanation for what’s happening. And yet, it also isn’t possible that he could know what the man from your dreams looked like and somehow find someone who looks exactly like him for his prank.

“We’re vampires.” Jisoo says, voice soft and comforting. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“Prove it.”

Your words come out before you can stop them. It’s not what you meant to say (not right away, anyway), but you don’t try to backtrack. On the off chance that they’re not pulling some elaborate prank, you need to know that you’re not crazy for kind of believing what they’re saying.

Minghao and Jisoo are looking at you with wide eyes, but the challenging look on your face doesn’t waver. They both know you enough to realize you aren’t going to believe them until they prove that they’re not lying.

Jisoo grins, but it seems bitter in a way. “Okay. Just… don’t be scared.”

You raise an eyebrow when his smile stretches further. It’s not until you see four of his teeth elongating into literal fangs that you feel your pulse start to race. His eyes have darkened into an inhuman shade of black that reminds you of a demon. Now you understood what Minghao meant when he called Jisoo a monster.

But that also means…

In a panic, you look to your friend. Much to your horror, he too is bearing those monstrous characteristics now. Dark eyes and fangs that make them look like the monsters they claim to be. It feels like you’re in one of your lucid dreams, and in the back of your mind you hope that’s what this is.

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” You’re surprised that your voice comes out as calm as it does, and even though you’re terrified, you can’t react how you know you should be.

“We would never hurt you.” Jisoo says, features slowly reverting back to normal. “No matter what, I won’t let anyone or anything bring you harm.”

It’s crazy that he’s promising you this with what feels like genuine sincerity, and it’s even crazier that it makes your chest warm with affection. You press your lips together, trying to make sense of how any of this is actually possible.

“You’re the reincarnation of Jisoo’s true love.” Minghao breaks the heavy silence. “He’s been searching for your soul since your untimely death.”

“That’s why you came into my dreams.” You whisper, not sure how to feel about this alleged truth.

“Yes.” Jisoo says, voice soft as ever. “I called myself Josh since it’s a modern name. You can still call me that if you wish.”

You stay silent, trying to deal with the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling without revealing any on your face. It’s hard, but you manage as you look back at your friend. “And you knew about this the entire time?”

“I didn’t know he’d been invading your dreams.” Minghao says honestly. “If I had—”

Minghao cuts his sentence short, and you can tell he’s trying his best to keep his emotions in check. It’s clear that he doesn’t like the idea of you being the reincarnation of Josh’s true love. You don’t understand why he brought you to meet him if that’s the case.

“Minghao.” Josh’s tone takes a threatening tone that you never thought him capable of emitting.

“Tell her.” Minghao says, clearly unfazed by Joshua’s sudden malicious attitude. “She has a right to know the truth before you think you can spend the rest of eternity with her.”

It’s silent for a moment before you see Josh’s shoulders slump. He looks slightly defeated and nervous. Seeing him in distress makes you uncomfortable, and you have to wonder if these are your actual feelings or something beyond your control.

“I first met you five years after I was first turned.” He starts, eyes begging for understanding. “You were running from a clan of demons who murdered your coven.”

The air is tense. You can feel your heart start to throb with hurt that you can’t place. A familiar burning sensation starts to poke at the back of your eyes, but you can’t understand why. “You saved me?”

Minghao clears his throat, eyes threatening.

“Unwillingly.” He admits, head hanging a little lower. “I was content in my solitude, and helping a witch didn’t sound appealing to me.”

“He also didn’t want to help a witch that belonged to the coven he helped exterminate.”

Minghao’s blunt statement makes your blood run cold. There’s a strange feeling that manifests itself in your chest. It’s an odd mixture of resentment, anger, and heartbreak. The feelings are familiar yet foreign. You feel the tears fall from your eyes before you can even think to hold them back. It’s all new information, but something in your bones recognizes the hurt and devastation.

“You killed my family.” The words aren’t yours, but in a strange way it feels like they are. “You almost killed me.”

“It was before I fell in love with you.” Josh sounds defeated. “Back then I was only concerned with my own survival, and I was a fool to let it get in the way of my love for you.”

Again, the air becomes tense. It makes Minghao almost regret doing this, but you ultimately have to know the truth. All of it.

“Tell her how you got her killed.”

More tears keep spilling from your eyes, and you can’t fathom the fact that they don’t feel like yours. A gentle hand wipes them away. Through blurry vision you can see Josh looking pained as he gently cradles your face in his large hand.

“I refused to go into hiding after the humans started to become more wary of our existence. Because of that, you and I were attacked by a group of hunters.” Josh feels a pain he hasn’t in centuries just talking about this to you of all people. “You protected me with your magic. I don’t know why you saved a wicked creature like me instead of yourself, but I really wish you hadn’t.”

The tears have stopped now, but Josh’s thumb is still gently caressing your face. His touch is cold yet comforting. You let out a shaky sigh, not sure what to do with all the information you’ve been given.

“This is why Minghao feels that I don’t deserve you, and maybe he’s right. But I’ve always been a selfish creature which is why I can’t give you up. Not in this lifetime or any other.”

Josh says it tenderly, but somehow you feel like you’ve become his prey.

Sometimes you wonder if letting Josh get so close to you is a mistake. Minghao seems to think it is even if he doesn’t tell you outright. Still, at least he’s supportive of your decision (as much as he can be, anyway). In spite of the fact that you now know the man of your dreams is a dangerous predator, you don’t feel unsafe when you’re with him. There’s also the fact that you can literally see the love he has for you every time you look at him.

Giving into him is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It feels natural and right, especially since he’s so sweet to you. You feel yourself fall harder every time you’re with him. He knows you better than anyone and treats you like you’re his everything.

Your relationship feels completely surreal and fast paced, but in an odd way it also feels like it’s not fast enough. The feeling has something to do with your past life you’re sure. After all, Josh had been waiting centuries for you to reincarnate.

He must’ve been so lonely.

You suck in a quiet breath as the thought comes to you, one that feels like it came from deep in your subconscious and is not entirely yours. Josh’s eyes snap open at the sound. He’s looking straight at you from where he has his head in your lap.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Unlike Minghao, Josh doesn’t have the power of coercion, but you’re still unable to lie to him. (Unwilling is a better term, but, details.)

“Did you really not have another lover after I died?” Your question isn’t accusatory, and part of you hopes he says yes. “Like you never even hooked up with someone else in three centuries?”

Josh’s airy laughter makes your chest warm. He brings your intertwined hands to his lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of yours. “If you do not believe me, I shall bring Minghao and have him use his gift on me.”

He’s teasing you, but you also know he’s dead serious. It shouldn’t thrill you so much that he’s willing to do just about anything for you—even subject himself to Minghao who still harbors a bit of a grudge towards him.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just…” You let out a quiet sigh. “You must’ve been really lonely.”

The way you look heartbroken and guilty isn’t satisfying, but it is alleviating somehow. You truly haven’t changed. The beautiful, kind soul he fell in love with remains intact, and he can’t be more grateful for that.

“At first I was. Then I met Minghao and joined his coven. They made it more bearable.”

You bring the hand that’s not attached to Josh’s to his head and run a gentle hand through his hair. “It must’ve been hard.”

Josh only offers you a hum. He can’t deny that it was, but he also doesn’t want to keep making you feel bad with all the details. That would have to be for another time.

“How many dreams did you invade before you finally found me?” You suddenly ask, wondering just how many psyches he had to go through over the course of 300 years.

“None.” His smile is a little bitter. “I’m not a incubus, so I can only enter your subconscious.”

The confused look on your face makes him let out a quiet laugh. It’s so innocent that it’s hilarious. Especially because you don’t remember that the restriction to his gift was your doing.

“Every time I tried to use my gift, I couldn’t. That’s how I knew you hadn’t been reincarnated yet. As soon as you were born I was able to tell, but I still couldn’t get into your psyche until you were ready to let me in—this is all curtesy of you, of course.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” He laughs. “Because I can’t dream, you bestowed this gift on me so I would be able to experience a dreamlike state again. Since you didn’t want the bloodthirsty heathen that I was back then to invade the minds of unsuspecting humans, you put all these limitations on my gift.”

His laugh is cute as he reminisces. It makes you smile too until you think of something.

The other day, Josh had mentioned he used to feed off of you in his past life because it tasted different and apparently it was like a kink for both of you. It freaked you out at first, but lately you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Honestly, the more the image plagued your mind, the harder it was not to feel turned on by it. You wonder if it would hurt and if you would like the hurt.

“Do you want to feed on me?”

If Josh’s heart was capable of beating, he has no doubt it would’ve been harshly pounding against his rib cage. He slowly gets up, feeling his cock throb and his throat itch.

“Darling—”

“You’ve never done it, and I was wondering if it was something you want to do.”

Of course he wanted to do it. Your scent is mouthwatering, and he just knows you taste divine. Up until now he hadn’t brought it up because he didn’t want you to think that’s all he wanted. All you two have done this past month is share some kisses, and that was perfectly fine. If that’s all you were willing to give him he’s gladly take it so long as you let him be part of your life.

Josh swallows thickly as he contemplates his answer. While it sort of sounds like you’re offering, he can’t assume anything. Plus he doesn’t want to seem like the monster Minghao told you he is.

When you see him hesitate, you make a decision that really isn’t all that hard for you. With an enticing smile, you tilt your head the slightest bit and offer your neck to him. “Bite me.”

In a split second, Josh pulls you on his lap so you’re straddling him. You gasp quietly when he sits you directly on his hardening cock. His eyes are dark like on the day he revealed himself to you. In the back of your mind, you know this is a dangerous game you’re playing, but you don’t feel one shred of regret or fear.

“I’ll be gentle.” He promises, voice breathy and needy.

Josh trails gentle kisses up and down your neck with patience that you find impressive. His fangs tease the tender skin as he opens his mouth slightly, and it’s almost like you can feel it throb in anticipation. With one last sweet kiss, Joshua sinks his teeth into your skin until you can feel a stabbing pain.

You gasp out a moan at the feeling. The pain lasts a second before you feel it rapidly fade. It’s replaced by images that invade the forefront of your mind. Memories that you don’t remember rush forward as if they were aching to be freed from the depths of your mind. There’s so many, and in spite of the fact that they pass through your mind quickly, you see every one of them.

When you come back down to reality, Josh is still drinking from you. He groans into your skin, reluctantly pulling away and licking the puncture wound he’s left behind. Josh continues to press kisses along your skin and whispered praises that you can’t help but melt into him.

“Jisoo.” You breathe out softly.

Joshua freezes when he hears what you’ve called him. He pulls back, eyes wide as he takes in the way you’re looking at him. Your gaze has always been full of affection, but now it’s full of ardent love that reminds him of the way you looked at him all those centuries ago.

“I’ve missed you.”

“Y/N…” Josh sounds breathless as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to remember.” You murmur as your bring a hand up to caress his cool cheek. “But I guess it’s only fair since you left me first.”

“It’s my biggest regret.” Josh says honestly, grip tightening on you.

You hum, trailing your thumb over his lips. He opens his mouth the slightest bit so you can touch his fangs just like you used to do once upon a time. Goosebumps cover your skin at the familiarity of it all. The feelings in your chest deepen impossibly as you replay all the memories that slowly keep coming to mind. You thought it would be impossible to love Josh any more than you already did, but once again you were proven wrong.

You let out a shocked squeak when he pulls you closer to him. His face is shoved into the side of your neck that he didn’t bite, breathing in your addicting scent. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t remember.”

“If you wouldn’t have been such a gentleman and bitten me sooner it wouldn’t have taken me so long.” You laugh, hugging him tighter.

The two of you stay like that until you shift and realize you’re still sitting on his hard cock. In a flash, the hot memory of Josh ravishing you back then goes straight to your cunt. You lick your lips and decide that you both have been waiting long enough to be with each other again.

“I’m impressed you kept your chastity just for me.” You purr into his ear, gently grinding down on his cock. “Such a loyal lover until the end.”

Josh doesn’t hesitate to take you to bed, cock aching to be inside you once again. He’s gentle when he finally gets you naked, eyes full of desire and love. “So fucking pretty.”

A breathy moan escapes you when his cold hands start to caress your body. His lips trails your neck, gently teasing you with his sharp teeth. Your skin heats up at the attention, and you feel like your floating by the time Josh gets his dick out to finally give you what you’ve been wanting.

“I missed you so much.” He groans as his throbbing cock slowly eases past your wet folds.

You moan along with him, hands finding his to lace your fingers together. “Missed you too, my love.”

Josh’s cock twitches inside you when he hears the pet name come out of your pretty little mouth. His leaking tip brushes against your cervix as your legs wrap around his hips. His pace is slow at first, trying to savor the feeling of your hot, tight cunt wrapped around him. He buries his face into your neck, licking and biting at the skin as his thrusts start to get tougher and deeper.

Your moaning is loud, and you’re amazed that he still knows which angels to hit after so much time. It’s like you’re seeing stars when Josh gently bites at your skin. He does it teasingly until you’re begging him to bite you again.

“Stop teasing.” You whine wantonly, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.

His chuckle is low and has your pussy clamping down on his cock, drenching it in your arousal. You can’t remember the last time you were so turned on. It hasn’t been long, but it already feels like you’re about to come.

“Seeing you fall apart like this is my favorite thing.” You can feel his sinister smirk against your neck. “It’s been too long since I last saw it.”

Josh lets go of one of your hands to bring a thumb to your clit. He starts to rub slow circles on the sensitive nub as his thrusts grow more ravenous. You cry out in pleasure when his thick cock hits your sweet spot roughly. Your back arches in pleasure as you feel your juices start to coat his heavy balls.

“Never letting you go again.” Joshua growls lowly, more to himself than you. “All mine.”

With his possessive declaration, he sinks his fangs into your neck for a second time. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you violently come all over his big cock.

“Fuck!” You cry out, hips moving against his arms he continues to fuck you through your high.

He’s licking at your open would now, sharp thrusts angled just right to have you on the cusp of another orgasm. Joshua pulls back, pink lips painted scarlet with your blood. He looks ravenous, and you think you might actually come again from how hot he looks.

“That’s it, darling.” Josh sounds insatiable. “Cream all over me.”

It’s not long before the sight of you completely fucked out triggers his own orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shoot inside your pulsing walls, painting them white with his seed. His moans are as pretty as you remember, and they mix in with your perfectly as he fucks his cum deeper inside you.

“Fuck me again.” You pant out, still longing for the second orgasm he was coaxing out of you.

Josh’s smirks as he flips you over on your front. “Still as insatiable as ever, darling.”

You look back at him with a laugh. “Like you’re any better. So hurry and fill me up again.”

You’ll never get sick of the feeling of his cold skin on yours as he grips your ass. Josh’s large hands rub and squeeze before you feel his throbbing cock tease your messy cunt. You let out a needy whine, tilting your hips up more to offer yourself to him.

“Such a needy little thing.” Joshua murmurs in that mean but sweet tone only he was capable of having.

“Only for you, my love.” You mewl, pussy throbbing at the thought of him splitting you open again.

As is his style, Josh slowly pushes his fat cock into your hot cunt, making you feel every inch of him. Then, in a split second he shoves the rest in like he can’t wait to be inside you any longer. The jolt of pleasure and slight sting of the stretch was enough to tip you over the edge for a second time.

You muffle your cry of pleasure in the sheets, fingers clinging to the soft cotton as your pussy clenches down on Josh’s cock, making him feel even bigger inside you. He groans from behind you, loving how your juices coat his cock as if you’re claiming it as yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Can you do that for me one more time?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question because in the next second his fingers are digging into your hips as he pulls his cock all the way out before shoving it back into your needy pussy with a sharp thrust. You can feel your body tremble as your pussy grips his cock like a vise.

“So fucking tight.” He groans, voice dripping with lust.

“Fuck me!” You moan, pushing back on his cock with insatiable need.

At your desperate demand, Josh sera a brutal pace. He fuck you hard and rough, leaking tip hitting your sweet spot over and over again until all he can hear is lewd squelching and skin slapping. His hips slam against your ass, obsessed with the way your sweet crema coats his cock. You cry out his name as his heavy balls slap against your throbbing clit.

Josh is pounding you into the mattress, cock splitting you open deliciously. You’re so addicted to the feeling that you can’t help but spur him on. “Don’t stop!”

You cry out in ecstasy when he does exactly as you ask. He pounds his cock against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your fingers grips the sheets as you bounce your ass back to meet his thrusts desperately.

“You’re close again, right, baby?” Josh’s voice is teasing. He doesn’t need to ask, though. He knows you are because he knows your body.

You’re moaning and shaking with overwhelming pleasure. All you can do is nod as you bring your hand down between your bodies to rub your aching clit. With all the stimulation from your fingers and his cock, you fall over the edge once again. Your body tenses as you moan out Josh’s name with ecstasy. The excess of your orgasm drips down Josh’s cock, staining it and marking it as yours.

With one last thrust, he shoots his hot cum inside you, moaning your name like a mantra. He sloppily fuck it back into you before pulling you flush against his chest. You two collapse back on the bed with Josh holding you closely as if he thinks you might disappear.

Slowly, you turn around with his cock still inside you. Joshua’s eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing.” You breathe out blissfully. “And not just because you’ve stuffed me full.”

His cock twitches inside of you, and you can’t help but let out an endeared laugh. Your chest is warm as he hugs you closer to him, lips gently skimming over your puncture wound.

“Jisoo.”

He hums against your neck, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“I was so afraid when I first died.” You confess, feeling him tense. You’re quick to pull him closer and caress his cheek. “Afraid that I’d be reborn and you wouldn’t be there when I was.”

Josh swallows thickly and comes to cup the hand that’s still brushing over his cheek. “I’ll never leave you alone again.”

“I know. Once you turn me, we’ll have the rest of eternity together.”

It all feels too good to be true, but you know that this is reality and not just another one of your sweet dreams.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo

[soulessjourney]

Vengeance Trail

Paring: Billy the kid x Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: You and Billy had known each other during your younger years. However, following an argument, you departed to forge your own path, leaving things on bad terms between the two of you. Years later, circumstances led you back, having been recruited to assist John Tunstall. As the war drew nearer, tensions resurfaced between both of you.

Warnings: Slight mature themes nothing too detailed, Billy not knowing how to make up his mind

A/N: So this was supposed to be one long drabble but I got 4k words in and wasn't even half way through so I will now be turing this into a small series.

Your life hasn’t been easy. For years, you had to fend for yourself, even as a young girl. At such a tender age, loneliness was your constant companion until you met him—Billy McCarty, as you knew him. It all began in Kansas, just days after their arrival. His mother, a kind and gentle soul, his rowdy and energetic brother—these were the first faces you encountered. But Billy stood apart, calm and soft-spoken, especially towards you. Little was known about Billy’s father except for his ailing condition upon their arrival. When he first encountered you, you weren't dressed like the other girls in town. No, clad in a simple, dirty white cotton shirt and brown-stained trousers, mud tainting your braided hair, you were as fiery then as you are now.

Billy swiftly became your closest friend after your initial meeting, and the two of you were inseparable. You stood by him during the loss of his father, just as he stood by you when your parents abandoned you for greener pastures. The McCartys became your surrogate family, and you were willing to sacrifice everything for them. After his father's passing, the McCartys decided to seek new opportunities in Santa Fe, extending an invitation for you to join them.

As your new life unfolded in Santa Fe, you chose to assist Billy's mother at the inn, doing everything in your power to ease her workload. You shielded her from advances made by older men and helped restore order after brawls erupted in the bar. But over time, Kathleen and the others grew distant. She met a man who prompted her to move in with him, taking the boys along, while you remained stuck living at the inn, toiling tirelessly to make ends meet. As you and Billy matured, a shift occurred between you two—a growing chasm that led to that pivotal, fateful night.

Standing in your room, you tucked your shirt into your trousers before slipping on the boots. "Y/N, don't do this. You're not thinking straight," Billy urged, positioned near the door to impede your departure. Rolling your eyes, you tied your hair back with a ribbon, keeping the strands from obscuring your face.

"It doesn't matter, Billy. My decision is final. I can't spend my life here in the inn or aiding you in poker, especially after what happened with Carlos," you retorted, arms crossed, referencing the tragic incident that occurred last time you attempted to help him. "This can't be my life anymore. I have no family, and constantly fending off the advances of older men isn't the future I want."

"You have a family, Y/N. We're your family," Billy insisted, attempting to reason with you, taking a step closer.

"You're not my family, Billy. You ceased being my family when you left me here to work for my bed," you replied firmly, brushing past him to retrieve your gun belt from the nearby chair. If there was one thing you appreciated about Billy, it was his lessons on shooting, and you had become quite proficient.

Billy followed closely, his voice growing desperate as he tried to persuade you. Moving around his brother and acknowledging Kathleen with a nod, you stepped into the night air. "Fine, leave. But where will you go, Y/N? You don't know how to survive out there on your own. You'll end up dead in a ditch, and I can't bear to bury another friend," he implored, quickening his pace to block your movements.

Shaking your head, you reached your horse, a striking brown and white paint, and began fastening your belongings. "I'll figure it out, Billy. I grew up alongside you. I'm confident I can handle myself. But I'm tired of stagnation. What happened to the Billy who dreamt of running away with me, exploring the world? You're not the same friend anymore. I'm happy for you and your mother, but I need to discover who I am, and I hoped you'd support me in that," you murmured, pausing your actions, refusing to meet his gaze.

Waiting for a response that never came, you mounted your horse and rode off into the night, leaving Billy behind, watching you vanish from his life.

---

A few years later, you had earned quite the reputation, becoming one of the most renowned outlaws. To conceal your past, you adopted a new alias, known to many as Sadie Bennet, while others foolishly dubbed you "The Wolf," a title you found entirely absurd but resigned to endure as there was not much you can do besides complain. One of your crew members had rationalized the nickname, claiming it suited you because you tracked your targets before striking, often appearing as a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Seated not far from the bar, your hair cascading down your back, you leisurely sipped on whiskey. "Ms. Bennet, I assure you this deal will benefit you. Your marksmanship is unmatched, and we desperately need your expertise. Mr. Tunstall won't rest until we secure your assistance. While we may not match your previous compensation, he's vowed to collaborate with you to clear your name," the man before you spoke. He appeared relatively young, likely just a few years older than you.

Setting down your glass, you arched a brow, sucking air through your teeth. "Mr. Bowdre, I appreciate the offer, but as I've reiterated, a petty power struggle isn't in my best interest," you stated, adjusting the suspenders chafing against your skin beneath the blue plaid shirt. "If Mr. Tunstall is genuinely in dire need, he should make a personal appeal. His absence leads me to believe otherwise."

Charlie ran his hands over his face, growing increasingly desperate, an almost amusing sight. "He's away on business, Ms. Bennet. That's why he can't request your services in person," he explained, using a word that made it seem as though you were peddling yourself to men, a notion that irked you.

"Very well, I'll consider it. There's not much occupying my time currently. I'll head to Lincoln County in a few days. There, we can convene and discuss details further. I have a few loose ends to tie up here before departing," you announced as you stood. Noticing his instant relaxation upon your agreement made you ponder just how desperate they were for your aid. Retrieving your hat from the table, you brushed it against your brown trousers to rid it of any table dirt before placing it atop your head. Tipping your hat, you offered a faint smile before pivoting on your heel. "I'll see you in a few days, Charlie. Ensure Tunstall is present; it would be nice to meet him after your vivid descriptions," you remarked, striding out of the saloon, unaware that accepting his offer would soon thrust you back into the life of a close friend.

---

As promised, you arrived in Lincoln County a few days following your conversation with Charlie. While making your way toward town, you were intercepted by Charlie himself, evidently waiting for your arrival. "Ms. Bennet, welcome! We were starting to worry that you might have had a change of heart," he greeted you as you turned your horse to face him, a smile gracing your lips.

"Nonsense, Mr. Bowdre. I may be many things, but I always keep my word. I said I'd come, and I intend to follow through," you replied, meeting his contented smile as he guided you toward his house. Though the ride had been somewhat lengthy, the scenery was undeniably picturesque. Looking up, you caught sight of an eagle soaring above, circling twice before disappearing. Closing your eyes, you reminisced about the last time you had seen an eagle. It was just after your departure from Santa Fe, when illness had nearly claimed you. Lying on the ground, an eagle had soared overhead, and you'd tracked its every movement before succumbing to sleep. Days later, you'd awoken in an unfamiliar bed, unsure of your whereabouts.

"Mr. Tunstall will be delighted to meet you. We have a few others more directly involved in our operations. They'll also be present to greet you. Don't be put off; some of them relish being intimidating," Charlie's words interrupted your thoughts, eliciting a soft laugh from you. Shortly after, you arrived at a small ranch, where a woman stood waiting. Radiant and evidently excited to greet the man beside you, you assumed she was Charlie's wife, judging by the ring adorning her finger and her joyful expression upon seeing him.

Dismounting your horse and patting her gently, you followed Charlie toward the house. Taking a deep breath, you entered and glanced around. It was a lovely, well-organized home—neither too crowded nor too sparse. Charlie guided you into the living room, where you paused, noticing a group of men engaged in conversation. Some appeared older than you, while one around your age gazed out the window.

"Mr. Tunstall, gentlemen, I present Sadie Bennet," Charlie announced, prompting the men in the room to straighten, catching their attention. The young man by the window turned towards you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Standing before you was your old friend, Billy McCarty, though markedly different from your last encounter. Life had evidently molded him into a hardened man. His widened eyes and the way he uttered your name revealed his surprise and disbelief at seeing you again.

Tunstall scanned you before removing his hat and extending his hand in greeting. "Ms. Bennet, I've heard a fair amount about you from Charlie, including the challenge it posed in persuading you to assist us," he remarked, his smile softening as you firmly grasped his hand. Indeed, you hadn't been the easiest to recruit, having encountered Charlie multiple times before, his persistent attempts at recruiting you finally wearing you down.

"I apologize, Mr. Tunstall. I wasn't initially certain about joining this endeavor. However, Charlie's persistence eventually led me to agree. I hope my delayed acceptance didn't hinder your plans too significantly," you offered, ignoring Billy's intense gaze as he positioned himself beside you.

"That's quite alright. What matters is your presence now, and your skills will undoubtedly be invaluable. Now, allow me to introduce you to the others," Tunstall said, shifting his focus around the room. "This is George," he gestured to the man on his left, "and you're already acquainted with Charlie." Charlie offered a reassuring smile, leaving only one person to introduce.

"Finally, we have B—" You abruptly interrupted Tunstall, turning to extend your hand.

"William Bonney, it's a pleasure to meet you face to face. You're quite the celebrity; I was concerned about competition for the title of most notorious outlaw," you jested, noticing a subtle change in Billy's expression. Unsure whether it was anger or disappointment, you shrugged it off. Arching your eyebrows, you awaited his response, but as he made no move, you scoffed and turned back to Tunstall. "Well, as famous as he is, he certainly lacks manners," you grumbled, crossing your arms, eliciting a surprised cough from Charlie, who attempted to suppress a laugh.

Billy cleared his throat and shook his head. "I apologize, Ms. Bennet. That wasn't my intention. I was merely surprised to encounter a fan. It's delightful to make your acquaintance. Please forgive my lapse in manners," he said, his gaze fixed on yours.

"Oh, I'm not a fan, Mr. Bonney. Just pleased to meet the most wanted man in several counties," you shrugged, distancing yourself from him. "Mr. Tunstall, can we discuss my involvement privately? I won't commit until we've reached mutual terms," you proposed. Tunstall nodded, dismissing the others, and you shot a lingering glance in Billy's direction. Removing your gun belt and placing it on the table, you settled into a chair. "Tell me the details of my role."

Tunstall positioned himself opposite you, crossing a leg over his knee and folding his hands. "As you're aware, there's a feud between Mr. Murphy and me. He's a power-hungry man, exploiting the land and its people. He indebts them, then employs unsavory means to seize their property. I'm sure you're familiar with his tactics." You nodded, feeling a simmering rage within. "We aim to confront Murphy, reclaim the land, and provide these people with the rightful homes they deserve without enduring such hardships. I require your skills to assist in taking him down. You and Mr. Bonney will offer exactly what's needed to dismantle Murphy's corrupt hold."

As you reclined in your chair, Tunstall's words raced through your mind. This man was willing to fight and die for a cause—bringing a better life to Lincoln County—and he sought your aid above all. "Alright, let's assume I agree to assist you. What assurances can you provide? I'm not interested in money; I seek something more secure and dependable," you challenged, noticing Tunstall's surprise, though it didn't shock him, especially given your reputation.

"I can offer you an opportunity to clear your name. As far as I'm aware, you're wanted across at least four counties, three of which have bounties on your head. However, by assisting me and transitioning away from the outlaw life, I can advocate for you. I'll speak to judges, emphasizing your change of heart and commendable actions, working to eradicate those bounties against you," Tunstall proposed. The offer held undeniable appeal. Clearing your name from charges that weren't your doing in the first place seemed like a tempting prospect.

Nodding, you contemplated the offer more deeply. "Very well, I accept these terms. I'll collaborate with you to take down Murphy and assist in your objectives. But it's crucial that you uphold your end of the deal, Mr. Tunstall," you affirmed, running your fingers through your hair. "Now, could you tell me further about William Bonney?" Tunstall's eyes brightened as he eagerly briefed you on what he knew about your former friend.

---

That evening, you lay outside, your coat serving as a makeshift pillow while your gaze remained fixed on the stars. A gentle cool breeze kissed your cheek and nose, while the nearby fire crackled softly. Your eyes flickered open as the sound of footsteps approached, halting beside you as a figure settled down. "I didn't expect to see you roped into all of this," Billy spoke softly. "Honestly, I thought you were gone for good until I spotted your wanted posters everywhere. Who would've guessed you'd dig a deeper hole than mine, but I suppose stubbornness runs in your veins, so that's no surprise," he said, glancing down at you.

Sitting up, you drew your knees to your chest and released a sigh. "What do you want, Billy?" you asked, pressing your lips together tightly. "Don't expect anything from this. I'm here solely to clear my name, not to mend something that shattered a long time ago," you added, redirecting your gaze back to the starlit sky. Billy sighed and fiddled with his fingers, uncertain of his next words.

"I tried to find you. After my mother passed away, and I was falsely accused of a crime, I searched for you. I assumed you'd moved on to another town or two, but you were nowhere to be found. Then I kept hearing about this remarkable woman named Sadie Bennet—how impressive she was, especially for a female outlaw. It wasn't until I saw your wanted poster that I knew it was you. Part of me felt relieved, but another part wanted to keep searching," Billy confessed, joining you in gazing skyward.

"I wasn't far when Kathleen passed. I'm sorry for your loss; she was a remarkable woman," you began, "I knew you were alright, still alive, as people talked about you often. Imagine my surprise when they accused you of murder. I couldn't believe it because you were always about settling disputes, not escalating them to violence. No matter how much I might have disliked you, I couldn't believe those allegations," your words struck a chord, leaving him silent.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he uttered quietly. "I took advantage of your presence, assuming you'd always be there for me, even when I distanced myself. You were a constant in my life, and I took that for granted. Life turned into hell after you left, and realizing my mistake hit hard when I didn't have you to turn to anymore. Joe was furious with me for weeks; he blamed me, rightfully so."

"Don't blame yourself, Billy. I left because I needed more than the life we had. Our rift was just one part of why I left; it's not solely on you," you said, meeting his gaze filled with sorrow. Wanting to comfort him, you hesitated but then pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Stop looking so forlorn, Billy. You're not alone; there are people who care."

Billy wrapped an arm around you, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent. "The reason I regretted it so much was because I was in love with you. You meant everything to me, and you showed me what it felt like to be truly wanted," he whispered softly, tightening his embrace. You remained silent, uncertain of how to respond to his confession. When you attempted to pull away, he shook his head, drawing you closer. "Please, just listen. I was so deeply in love with you that my mother was helping me gather the courage to confess my feelings. But then you vanished, leaving me with unspoken words and a heap of regrets."

"Billy," you murmured, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. "You carry so many burdens and regrets. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You didn't deserve to feel alone, and I regret leaving you in that state. I had feelings for you too, but when you distanced yourself, I took it as a sign and fled like a coward," you confessed, feeling his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb caressing your skin. Lost in each other's eyes, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.

His lips felt weathered against yours, yet the kiss conveyed volumes of unspoken emotions, making you disregard any roughness. Your fingers entwined in his hair, gently tugging on his brown locks, and a subdued moan escaped as he pulled you into his lap. Breaking the kiss, Billy placed a tender one along your jawline before meeting your eyes. "Let's head inside. It's getting late," he murmured, guiding you along. Pausing just outside the spare room, he kissed you again before ushering you inside, where the evening was spent memorizing each other's bodies and sharing quiet confessions.

---

The next morning, the sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the room. Stretching your arms, a smile naturally spread across your lips. For once, you felt truly rested, and the usual ache in your back was noticeably absent. Sensing movement behind you, you felt an arm around your waist draw you closer. Memories of the previous night flooded your mind, and you suppressed a smile as you turned in bed to meet Billy's bright blue eyes. "Good morning," you whispered, gently cupping his cheek.

His lips curved into a sleepy smile as he tried to shake off the remnants of sleep. "Good morning," he mumbled back, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. Pulling away, he nestled his head on your shoulder, his arm holding you tighter. "Do you think we should come clean about knowing each other?"

Running your fingers through your hair, you pondered his question. "I'd say we might have to. There's hardly any believable excuse, especially after last night," you chuckled, placing kisses along his jawline. "But we should probably get up and start our day," you sighed, only to squeal as he playfully rolled on top of you, tickling your sides and eliciting high-pitched laughter.

After some playful moments and shared affection, Billy rolled off and got up, heading to the small bathroom. Lying on your stomach, you observed him dressing and attempting to tame his tousled hair. Catching his gaze, you noticed a flicker of something before he grabbed a black shirt from the wardrobe. Handing it to you, he sat on the bed, tracing his fingers over your exposed back. "I'll head downstairs while you get ready. I'll try to hold them off until you're ready to face the grilling," he said with a playful eye-roll, making you stifle laughter in the pillows.

Eventually, you sat up and planted a lingering kiss on his lips. "I'll see you downstairs, cowboy. Don't let them chew you up," you teased, rolling out of bed. As you started dressing, you ran a brush through your hair, noticing the red marks on your neck and collarbone. Groaning, you tilted your head back, silently blaming Billy. Once dressed, you made your way downstairs, overhearing hushed whispers. Some sounded teasing, while others seemed more disgruntled, likely discussing you and Billy. Walking into the room, you stood behind Billy, resting your hands on his shoulders. "Good morning, gentlemen. How was your night's rest?" you greeted them with a wide smile that faded as Billy distanced himself from your touch.

Charlie greeted you with a small welcoming smile while Tunstall settled into the chair at the table. Positioning yourself next to Billy, you observed him, puzzled by his sudden shift in emotions. "Sadie, or should I say Y/N, what exactly is your relationship with Billy?" he asked. Part of you hesitated, uncertain of what to say, as his expression demanded nothing but the truth. Before you could respond, Billy interjected.

"There's no relationship. Last night, we both had a bit to drink which led to events that should have never happened. I want to apologize for our actions. We have more important things going on, and we should have been more careful." His words hit you hard, and your face contorted into a mix of horror and shock. It was a mistake—this whole situation. Just moments ago, he appeared content waking up beside you, but now you felt reduced to a mere error. Clenching your hands into fists on your thighs, you bit the inside of your cheek to restrain any comments on the brink of escaping.

"Billy is right, Mr. Tunstall. We both got carried away, and I'll ensure it never happens again. I allowed myself to become too vulnerable around someone, and I shouldn't have." You managed to force the words out, your voice strained. "Now, if you boys excuse me, I need to tend to my horse and maybe explore the town to familiarize myself with the area," you grumbled, rising abruptly and causing the chair to scrape against the floor.

Charlie stood up swiftly. "I'll join you. Perhaps I can give you an overview of the town and how everything operates." You nodded at Charlie and left the kitchen, purposefully avoiding looking in Billy's direction. Charlie followed closely, slowing his pace as you reached the horses.

"What truly happened between you and Billy? Anyone who can read a room can tell that you're more than just a drunken mistake. So, what are you to him?" Charlie inquired as he mounted his horse.

Swinging yourself onto your horse, you shrugged. "I thought I meant something to him, but I should've known better than to believe his words. I apologize if things were awkward this morning, Charlie. That wasn't my intention at all." You offered him an apologetic smile as he joined you on horseback. A part of you wanted to cry and vent your frustration after Billy's sudden indifference. You had opened up to him and comforted him, only to be discarded once again. Last night felt too perfect to be true, but it hurt to realize that you had exposed yourself only to be hurt in the end.

Charlie shook his head and regarded you as the two of you began riding towards town. "You don't need to apologize, Y/N. Sometimes people change, and sometimes they change in a matter of minutes. All you can do is look ahead and move on. You're a wonderful and kind young lady. Billy just doesn't know what he's doing," Charlie consoled. Part of you felt weak for letting Charlie comfort you, but his words resonated and lingered in your mind. He was right. You couldn't let this consume you. All you could do was fulfill your duties and keep moving forward.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I can imagine Jay would be kinda toxic in a relationship. But only because of all his abandonment issues ;-; Thoughts?

Oh he’s hella toxic 😬 Especially, Arkham Knight-era Jay. Canonically I don't think he could ever hold down a relationship with everything he's been through 😞 As you said, he's got wayyy too many trust issues stemming from abandonment/brainwashing/ptsd/abuse.

But I also desperately need him to find a lover (gotta have that comfort to go with all of the hurt); a gardener for his delicate rose; someone who makes him feel warm/safe/needed/loved; a saint with the patience of a toddler's parent, lmao.

A few of his toxic relationship traits, imo (please share more if you have any!)

controlling with a jealous streak

quick to anger. He's got a fiery temper with a penchant for throwing things. I don't think he'd actually raise a hand to his s/o but I can see there being close calls, like him punching the wall instead of that person.

extremely self-centered. It's a survival mechanism, not only from his time in Arkham but also for not giving into his depression/suicidal ideations.

always second-guessing the relationship he's in. He's gonna be convinced that his partner will leave him at the drop of a hat, so he's always gonna be on edge, reading into things, ready to assume the worst about his partner.

can get pretty rough in sex. His partner needs to be very firm with their boundaries.

Just picture being in a relationship with that guy from the game who's kicking doors in, screaming at everyone non-stop, throwing threats of bodily harm around to his own men, kidnapping a found-family member, putting her in a scary/dangerous situation, displacing countless Gothamites, leaving a city in ruins, not caring about collateral damage in his quest for vengeance, picking a fight with his dad in the most destructive way imaginable. (And he freaking stomps a rat into mush in the comics for no reason 😡) That guy's not gonna be a fairy-tale love interest LMAO

[k9wa]

𑣲 EVERYTHING. ft. BLADE

⠀ — it’s easier to nurse your wounds in silence with a furrowed brow.

⠀ OR

⠀ — you get your ass beat bad enough for blade to be affectionate.

⚠︎ mentions & descriptions of injuries, blood, comfort, gn reader, awkward blade save me, self indulgent && finally out of the drafts.

“what happened to you?”

blade inquired, tone teetering on teasing as you trudged into your shared bedroom, head hung low as you walked on heavy, unstable legs. it looked as if someone had slipped iron into the soles of your shoes.

blade barely heard the muttered response you slur out as a bloodied hand reached out to hold the wall for support. he was on his feet in front of you in seconds, hands lightly finding their way to your waist to help hold you up straight. blade had to restrain himself from lifting you up by your underarms and shaking an explanation out of you once he noticed the smeared red hand print you left behind.

“...hey.”

his voice was quieter the second time around, bending at the knees a small bit so he could finally meet your cloudy eyes. it grabs your attention well enough, you finally looked up enough for him to see the scratches on your face alongside the sharp, clean cut going from your brow bone to cheek bone. he felt his palms sweat.

blade wasted no time in scooping you up and placing you down on your bed. he would worry of the blood soiled sheets after you were taken care of.

he pushed your hair behind your ears, giving him a final clear glimpse of your wounded face. despite his indifferent expression, stoic and blank as always, he nearly hissed.

you whine weakly and groan in pain as blade lifts your shirt up over your head, checking your torso for any more wounds. there was another sharp slash across the left of your ribcage, but it was— thankfully— rather shallow. a perfect example of you getting out of the way of someone’s sharpened steel at the very last second.

ren retrieved a wet cloth, dampened with cold water that he didn’t possess the patience to allow to warm up before sticking the fabric under the faucet. he cleaned the dried blood off your skin, actions precise and unimaginably gentle as he watched it flake and smudge away with the water.

you’re silent, one eye stuck shut as a result of your injury and the other fluttering in an attempt to stay open as you tiredly gaze up at him through your lashes. once you were finally relieved of the dirt and sweat sticking to you, ren moved to start wrapping thick, taught bandages where they were needed.

he didn’t pry right away, you were hurting. blade was no stranger to pain and the way it left a blinding fog over your senses, stripping you of any capabilities and leaving you with nothing but dreadful awareness of how terrible your bones ache and your flesh burns.

but truly, with each circle of the roll of cloth around your torso, went more fuel onto the flame of violence and vengeance deep inside blade’s gut, the fiery anger quickly overwhelming his consideration.

“what happened to you?”

ren repeated as he taped off the covering on your ribs. his tone was less taunting the second time around. he gets up from his knees and sits on the bed beside you, tilting your head up by your chin to assess the wound to your eye.

“doesn’t matter, believe it or not i won.” you replied lazily, good eye slowly making its way over his hardened features. his high cheekbones, sharp brow bone, his chiselled jaw. blade has half a mind to scoff.

“that’s not what i asked.” he grew more stern, lightly tugging your eyelid open to check if your cornea had withstood any damage.

ren listened as you half-heartedly recalled the events to him. a group of mara struck had stumbled upon you on your way back from a meeting with elio and kafka. you made your way out, but the injuries sustained were from when you had forgotten you often have to knock the mara struck down twice before they actually stay down. a silly slip up on your part.

blade finished wrapping a bandage around your eye and placing a few smaller ones on your scratches by the time you finished your explanation. his speed and familiarity with a roll of gauze made you question just how often he had done this to himself.

he didn’t respond as he grabbed you a clean shirt, picking up any garbage and tossing it out silently as he threw the soiled cloth in an empty cleaning bucket. you were curled up on the bed and fighting sleep when he returned just a minute later.

ren didn’t know what to say, exactly. the mara that had attacked you were good and dead, so he didn’t have to go after them and dirty his own hands once more as a “precaution” (he would not allow any being that harmed you in such a way keep it’s life—) yet he was never one for comfort. even after all the years he’d spent with you.

re-learning the humanizing emotions that had been cast from his soul once it was ripped and forced back into his body was proving to take more time than one might expect.

blade, after standing with your back to him almost awkwardly for a few moments, took a seat beside you again and placed his chin down on your shoulder. his thumb mindlessly moves to rub circles on your hip.

it’d be a lie to say seeing you hurt didn’t scare him. scare? terrify? shake him up? the synonyms weren’t relevant. blade continued to try and convince himself there was truly a difference between them.

being immortal had led him to forget what the limits of the human body might exactly be. he was surprised his brow didn’t furrow at the thought of your lesions being fatal as he cleaned and wrapped them.

you are everything. you are the last thing blade is able to call his own. you are the only thing blade truly feels he belongs to, and vice versa. you are everything.

“be more careful next time.” ren said quietly, lips against the skin of your arm as he kissed your shoulder. “please.”

you rolled over slowly, careful not to lay on your freshly cut side and pulled his hand up to your mouth, placing a kiss to his knuckles.

“i will. thank you.” you’re too tired for a witty response. blade nodded. he didn’t believe you, years of being left behind and the amount of bloodshed he’d witnessed did not allow him.

“get some sleep.”

he stood, shoulders straight and nearly tense as he walked away and picked up his weapon leaned against the wall. running through some of the drills his late master taught him was ought to lift the stress— the reminder that despite your strength you were but a fragile human— from his back. he did that often when he was beginning to feel overwhelmed or over-frustrated. it was routine, it was the same, it made sense to him.

“i love you.” you mumbled against your pillow, eyes already closed as sleep quickly consumed you.

“as do i.” blade said quietly, slipping outside.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[amerricanartwork]

So, I'm looking at your arti and gourmand art (absolutely fucken love the two, you draw them so adorable) and I got hit with an Intrusive Thought that I simply must share:

...

Arti bench pressing Gourm

Firstly, glad you enjoy my Artimand content! I just think they'd make such a funny yet sweet couple, and I love drawing them!

And now I'll address that thought to actually explain a little headcanon I just so happened to be pondering recently along that subject!

It's on the subject of where Arti's greater strength comes from. See, unlike other designs that show Arti as being bigger and seemingly more muscular than the average slugcat, I actually like to imagine her as a little smaller than average (about 2'10", to be exact; average is 3ft.), for both more humor and narrative significance. However, this begs the question of why she's the only slugcat who can dislodge regular spears, which implies she's stronger than average too?

Well, my conclusion was that it was a combination of adrenaline-based strength with the fact, by the time her campaign occurs, she's been in and still remains in very frequent intense combat scenarios, so she gets far more opportunity to train her muscles than even regular carnivorous slugcats. It's especially so if her needing to carry around scavenger corpses to pass through Karma gates is canon and not just a game mechanic.

However, if that were the case it would also mean this extra strength would only exist before she gets with Gourmand. Afterwards, I imagine she loses much of it and reverts to more Hunter levels of strength due to 1. no longer being constantly filled with pure fiery rage and an almost instinctive urge for vengeance, 2. being in a much safer environment where she no longer has to fight troupes of scavs every cycle (I imagine she over time reconciles with them too, but that's something for later), and 3. much of her lost muscle at the time of meeting Gourm being replaced by fat as his eating habits awaken her own bigger appetite.

So long story short, given the big size and weight difference, she might have been able to lift Gourm before becoming his mate if she were that angry and determined enough. But unfortunately, there's no chance of her bench-pressing him after she settles in with him. And I'm sure she'd be at least a little mad about it, too.

But, of course, Gourm still loves her regardless!

[moncharrow]

hii!! i saw you were taking requests so can u write an knight!ellie x princess!reader period piece?

it was never meant to be

a/n: thank you for the cool request! i don't know how i feel about this- never wrote for this time period before. it was a fun learning curve!! i hope you enjoy it. requests are open <3 please. please. tell me. smut or fluff or angst idc

-content/warnings: 1.8k words, fem!princess!reader x knight!ellie, arranged marriage/political marriage, mentions of reader having to marry a man, slight angst? happy ending though, feminine reader i suppose

You were a goddess amongst mortals, treading the Earth lightly and gracing the barren ground with flowering spring beauty. There was an elegance to your touch. Anyone blessed enough to know you were changed for the better, your kindness and charity caressing their soul like hundreds of dandelion wisps in the wind. Heads turned when you walked down the pathways, villagers hoping to get a glimpse of their beloved princess, to catch her stray gaze as she passed. You were the kind of person who would never be subject to malice; even if someone wished they could despise you, the love behind your eyes would soothe their violent minds. Your soul seemed to be sculpted by the hand of a creator who endowed you with pure goodness.

Ellie’s skin was etched with years' worth of hardship, mental fortitude carved into her perpetually crinkled brow. Dirt caked her bloodstream, poisoning her soul as it moved through her heart. Behind her eyes was no mercy, no forgiveness, only seeking vengeance on some imaginary being that had seen no value in her from the moment of creation. It seems the same deity that sculpted you had been corrupted as it created her, molding her heart of ashes and skin of rotten wood. She was a decades-old shattered, rusty sword thrown into a river. No value. No hope. Only a broken promise of a better future that had been forgotten.

​​But your merciful, generous sight had befallen her by some stroke of luck. You recognized something good within her and gave her the chance she'd always dreamt about. You sponsored her induction into knight training, looking past her fiery faults and into the essence of her spirit, finding a spark of virtue. You tended to it until the ember became a blaze, and Ellie Williams became a force to be reckoned with. Despite the whispers of naysayers around the castle, there was something honorable and just inside her. There would never be enough words in the English language for Ellie to express her gratefulness to you properly. Even if there were, she couldn't string them together- she was never skilled with words. Instead, her every step carried a purpose: to echo your goodness through her actions.

Every so often, she'd find a quiet moment and reminisce upon the years of hardship she'd endured in training. Initially, she'd been one of the weakest pupils, lanky and malnourished but with a lust for improvement. She would cry herself to sleep the first year, and every night, she'd sneak out to see the dear princess, who would hold her and assure her that she belonged. It took time, but Ellie began to believe her. She sought comfort from you night after night, conversation topics turning personal after Ellie’s mental health had begun to improve. You’d talk about nothing and everything: silly hypotheticals, stories of growing up. The juxtaposition between your upbringing and hers was comical, but you both found comfort in learning about each others’ lives. 

When Ellie was with you, she felt like her social status didn’t matter. She was just a girl, and you were just the girl she was in love with. The class difference didn’t matter and neither did the impossibility of being together. Just two girls in love, neither with the courage to admit it. 

The lingering touches turn into shy smiles as Ellie sits in your room. Ornate tapestries adorn the walls and silk kerchiefs cast you in warm golden light- you look like a sun goddess in a long linen dress, your well-manicured hand coming to rest on Ellie’s knee as you laugh at something she said. Her rude humor was a welcome change to the sterility of castle life. You grew tired of the roles forced upon you by your authoritative parents and court, and vastly preferred Ellie’s brash personality. Your parents would have a collective aneurysm if they knew you were mingling with the ‘peasant knight’ (their words, obviously), so the two of you were reduced to sneaking around. 

Ellie’s smile dropped a bit as she felt your touch through her trousers. Her head felt dizzy and she attempted to compose herself, finding it hard to focus when your touch was so delicate and warm. Your call of her name was like a siren song, impossible to ignore its dulcet velvety tones. “Ellie?”

“Yes, Princess?”

You scoff. “Stop with the title. You know I hate it.”

Ellie smiles. A selfish thought crosses her mind- she wishes you were born normal, born in the village like her instead of in an ivory tower. Maybe then, things could have worked out. “That’s why I use it.” You laugh again, and she feels her stomach turn. Why couldn’t you be like me?

-

A week later, Ellie’s thoughts are the opposite. You sit in the throne room, grandiose decor embellishing the great chamber. Lavish royal purple flags and bright maroon banners drop and fold along the walls. Opulent chandeliers of pure wrought iron hang from the ceiling, supporting crystal fixtures through which valuable beeswax candles bathe the room in light. Stained glass rose windows and fleur de lys seem to further isolate Ellie, who stands guard by your throne. Invasive thoughts plague her as she keeps her professional face. I don’t belong here. I never have. I wish I was like you- then I could take you away from here. The thoughts are heightened when she sees the reason the entire town is gathered under the concave.

Four suitors from across the land vie for your hand in marriage. Ellie bites her tongue, her taste buds flooding with a familiar metallic sting. 

They don’t really want you, not like I do. All they want is power. They don’t treasure your time or your kindness. You deserve more. 

She clutches her spear, posture erect, seeming the quintessential knight. Only you noticed how her hand shook with nerves, how she seemed to hold onto the weapon as if letting go would kill her.

Each suitor takes time to introduce themselves. They focus on their own qualities, never talking about why they would be honored to be with you. And they would be. You sit on your throne, deep purple taffeta draping your body elegantly as you cross your legs. Aphroditic, a Hellenistic Roman statue come alive. Romantic, expressive, nymphlike in every way. If you were Euydice, Ellie thinks she must’ve been Orpheus. The anticipation of witnessing you choose your husband (and thus leaving her) was beginning to affect Ellie physically. Her heart felt like it would die in her chest: she swore she felt an arrhythmia. 

First, the suitor from the East describes what he would gift you if wed. As if you would be swayed by material possessions. The suitor from the South notes his conquests. The changes in your expression are minute, but Ellie knows the look. You’re entirely disgusted, and she clears her throat to catch your attention. You look over, the unimpressed look still donning your face, but your eyes light up when you see her. Ellie smiles- a silent reminder: I’m still here for you. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room.

The Western suitor wears his pants inside out, and your eyes immediately meet Ellie’s. You cover your mouth with your hand, appearing classy while chuckling and snorting behind your cover. 

The Northern suitor is handsome and decent, Ellie reluctantly admits. She’s not blind. She hates that she doesn’t hate him. He expresses interest in you and vows to give you autonomy. It’s basic, but more than the others offered. She tries to read your expression and for once, she can’t. It makes her heart drop. 

After every suitor is introduced, you and your court go into the back room to discuss your final decision. The decision that, whomever you choose, will ruin Ellie. She stands guard before the door, straining her hearing to find some clue that you won’t marry these men. She begs silently to whatever immortal being watches over her. 

You haven’t done much for me. I haven’t asked for much. But I’ll do anything to stop this. Please. 

A knock at the door signals Ellie to move away. She takes your hand and leads you back to the throne. You sit, and Ellie has to will herself to let go of you. What if this is the last time she’ll be able to hold you? The thought nearly brings her to her knees. Her joints ache with every step she takes away from you, returning to her post in front of the chancel. Your father stands, his creaking bones the only sound in the room. Everyone holds their breath as he speaks.

It’s detached apolitical jargon that Ellie can barely pay attention to. She thinks that if she doesn’t listen, the situation won’t become real. To her dismay, your father ends his aloof speech and presents you. Sir Williams has never felt so sober.

Ellie watches with wide eyes as you stand. She peers up at you from below the stage, and she can’t help but realize what a perfect metaphor this is. You stand above her, gilded and unobtainable, while she looks up, dreaming of what could’ve been. Of course, she’ll support any decision you make, but she’ll never be happy with it. It seems time moves gruelingly slowly as she awaits your voice. At any other moment, she’d be hanging off your every word, waiting excitedly for what you have to share next. But now, she hopes the words never come.

You open your mouth, words leaving in slow motion. She wants to close your mouth to shut you up and kiss you so hard that you never think about anyone else again. She doesn’t.

“Dearest suitors, I thank you for coming here today. Your travels are long and treacherous and your efforts do not go unnoticed. As noted by my father, I have come to a decision regarding my spouse. I am firm in my choice, as this is the most chivalrous, goodhearted, and impressive person I have met. The only person who understands me.”

Ellie is used to you switching from your formal persona to your true self, but she never gets over it. It’s you, but it’s not you. You stroll along the chancel, in thought, and Ellie takes the chance to admire everything about you as if this is the last time she’ll be able to. Posture, gait, the way you hold yourself as if you’re sure about every action. She doesn’t know you’re terrified beyond belief.

Your finger comes out to point to a suitor. The great hall inhabitants draw a collective breath, Ellie included. You drag your finger from the right side of the stage, passing over the suitors of the East, South, and West. Ellie knows where this is going. Of course, you’ll choose North. He was the obvious choice, and she couldn’t fault you for that. And suddenly, your finger passes by him.

Ellie’s mind races. What’s happening?

Your body turns, and soon, Ellie stares down your hand, furrowing her brow. Her eyes are filled with childlike hope.

“Ellie Williams, if you’ll have me?”

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#14: The Magnetic Reunion (1.02)

First of all: 🎉💛🔥🥂😍🎉🔥🥂😭🎉💛🔥🥳

I’ve said it for years and it gets proven true at every turn - Rick and Michonne are magnets. 🧲

So I have half a mind to believe that part of why that helicopter came tumbling down was because it got caught in the intense magnetic force of Richonne. 😋 There was no way Rick and Michonne could be in the same atmosphere like that and not ultimately end up in each other's arms. I don’t care if Rick was thousands of feet in the sky, those magnets within these soulmates were going to send him crashing right down to Michonne. And that's exactly what happens in the continuation of this scene the world had been waiting for - Richonne's epic reunion 🙌🏽🥹...

So first Michonne and Nat are walking through the woods and headed home to ASZ. It's poetic that Nat helped Michonne see it's not giving up if she goes home, and then sure enough because she was willing to head home that puts her in the very position to find the man she's been looking for.

As they walk, Michonne is trying to reach Judith on the walkie-talkie and is clearly very eager to get home to her kids. I love that Nat again is so supportive as he assures her they’ll get in closer range to reach her babies soon...But then a helicopter can be heard ahead, piloted by Michonne's other baby lol. 😋 Love is truly in the air, y'all. 🙌🏽

Nat stops Michonne as they look up and see, “It’s them.”

Michonne looks ready to warning pop a whole helicopter as Nat says to grab the cart because they gotta go. Michonne “Never Run From The Fight,” Grimes says, “I’m not running from them, Nat” and Nat is on the same wavelength as he says, “Neither am I. Let’s go.”

gif cred: @richardgrimes

I love how Nat’s like 'honey, we gotta know when to go, and now is the time to go ham against the group that killed our friends and forced us to put life on pause for a year.'

Michonne is ready too as she takes out a walker and helps Nat set up the scream sticks.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Nat says the helicopter is flying super low - and that’s because that magnetic field is already doing its work to bring Richonne closer together. Amen. 😇

Nat fires the missile and I love seeing the final moment from ep 1 through Michonne and Nat’s lens. Nat thinks the first shot was a dud…but it most certainly was not. Ask Okafor lol. 😅 Nat’s aim is really spot-on as he fires more shots at the helicopter and it crashes.

Soldiers in black finally emerge on the ground and run amid the fiery scene as Nat continues to fire. And it’s crazy knowing Richonne is finally in the same vicinity after so many years.

gif cred: @perryabbott

The soldiers shoot at Michonne and Nat who duck out of the way. And then even despite seeing these masked men with guns, Michonne is basically like 'I can handle eight' and tells Nat, “I got them unless you get them first.”

She runs into the line of fire to take these soldiers out one by one.  And as she runs, Michonne is hit with a collection of memories that have led her to this point. We hear her tell Aiden, “You should go” and Aiden says, “We will. After you find Rick.” The warmth of that moment is quickly cut with Michonne having to take out Walker Aiden.

Then we hear Michonne say, “You’re pregnant.” over a clip of soldiers running. I like how one of those soldiers is Rick - cuz he’s the one who got Michonne pregnant, and that's something she’ll finally be able to tell him now. 

Nat knocks the soldiers to the ground as Michonne recalls taking out Bailey and then she gets vengeance for her friends as she slices CRM soldiers' necks and looks at them with crazy eyes as she says “Look at me.” I know that was a terrifying way to go out for these soldiers. 😅 Also, I love how Michonne is the character with the soundest head on her shoulders but also has a side of her that can get real crazy. 🤭

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Then Nat's voiceover says, “You can believe a little longer and still go home to your kids” as my heart just melts into a puddle seeing clips of Judith and RJ. 🥹 Her kids are the cutest thing and I know as Michonne is slicing these soldiers she’s thinking about how they took time away from her kids which is an unforgivable sin. 

And then the final beat is Rick saying, “You can lose me” as we see a clip of Rick smiling at Michonne during their proposal dinner in Say Yes. I love how as she’s unknowingly fighting Rick in this forest she is also thinking about him as the final image in her mind because Rick is one of the biggest reasons why she fights.

They end the memory sequence with Rick saying "You can lose me" to really emphasize what’s about to happen next. Because next, she gets confirmation that while she can and did lose Rick she can also find him again no matter how long he's been lost. 🙌🏽

And find him she most certainly does as she knocks off his helmet and immediately realizes the man in black is the love of her life. 🤩

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Ok, I don’t even know how I’m going to put all this into words because I love this Richonne reunion with everything in me.

Let's start with the real snow that started falling during this scene. 😍 Y’all, even Mother Nature is a Richonner and she wanted to add some extra razzle dazzle to this epic reunion because she knew it was important.

The snow naturally being a part of this moment was beautiful. Then the fact that Rick and Michonne find each other just as they both were going to 'give up' for good is poetic. Again, the universe is a Richonner and said not on my watch, I’m getting you two together even if it takes several explosions to do so. 😌

Rick and Michonne are both silently breathing and staring at each other like we saw in ep 1 and you can tell this moment is such an understandable shock to both of them. Like before you can even see joy on their faces there’s just pure “is this really happening??” shock on their faces. And it makes sense because of all the scenarios they’ve probably pictured reuniting in, they likely never imagined it’d be like this.

Their faces and breathing really capture how wild this is for them to be so abruptly brought back into each other's lives after years of longing for each other.  

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Then Michonne immediately removes her mask and drops her sword and I view this as such a meaningful movement because it feels like for the first time in almost eight years she can let her guard down with the one man who makes her feel most secure. Like she completely disarms and is the vulnerable Michonne she used to be when Rick was around. 

And then the way Rick rises to his knees and his face just quickly softens as he realizes she’s really here. After all the dreaming, the yearning, the aching for her presence - here she stands. 🥹 (And my extra self likes how as he gets up there’s a brief moment where he’s on one knee and it just feels like his body is already in proposal mode lol.)

gif cred: @nat111love

Then I absolutely adore the way Rick gets up with his hand out reaching for her. It feels so tender like even despite all the chaos he’s just experienced, his first priority is that Michonne is okay. And the way he goes to her and she extends her hands out to him - those magnets are still as strong as ever. 🧲😊

gif cred: @nat111love

And I love that before they embrace they have this moment of Michonne holding Rick’s face in her hands as they both take each other in and are so emotional. The tears in their eyes as they feel each other's touch for the first time in years is just so extremely moving. 😭

gif cred: @saoirse-ronan

This was such a big highly anticipated moment and from the very first second of it, I just knew they were going to deliver and that the magic of Richonne on screen together is still as captivating and electrifying as it’s always been. 🔥

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne smiles, eyes filled with tears, as she holds Rick's face and looks into his eyes so glad that he’s actually alive. And then Rick cries and leans into her touch truly feeling tender touch for the first time in almost 8 years. Like whenever I’d see Michonne lovingly touch Rick throughout TOWL I’d always be reminded that this is his first time experiencing this type of warmth in so so long. 😭

gif cred: @nat111love

It’s interesting how Michonne has a teary smile whereas Rick has this blend of happiness and pain on his face. He’s been living like he’s dead for a very long time and, as I’ve said previously, when you decide to die but live you turn off the switch in you that can feel emotions both the painful and even the happy ones. But Michonne can always bring life back to Rick so you can just see this layered expression as Rick feels so much emotion come rushing back to him.

It’s almost like it’s foreign for him to let this emotion out now, but he makes these heartwarming quiet crying noises that show that whatever feelings are stirring inside him can’t help but seep out.

When Michonne lovingly holds his face in her hands, Rick dips his head tentatively wanting to hug her but also potentially hesitant if she’d want to hug him after seeing him in the same uniform as the people she was attacking. But then of course Michonne pulls him in so warmly as his soul just seems to be crying into her shoulder.

 gif cred: @riickgrimes

I think about how when he was on the bridge in his final ep he imagined Michonne holding his face in her hands and giving him the strength to go on and now here she is years later able to do that for real. It moves me to no end. 🥹

And then they have their long-awaited first embrace as Michonne lets out palpable emotion joyously declaring, “I found you!”  😭😭🎉

gif cred: @surii

The way Rick tucks himself into her shoulder as he closes his eyes and embraces her and the way Michonne almost gasps for air and says “oh god” in shock and awe that she really did find him. That all those years feeling him out there and believing he’s alive were correct. The belief she had paid off and now here he is - alive and finer than he’s ever been. It’s everything. 🙌🏽

And now I was very curious what Richonne's first words to each other would be after all these years. And to me, they chose the perfect thing for both of them with Michonne saying 'I found you" and then with what Rick first says.

Still in the hug, Rick quietly asks, “Judith - is she - is she alive?” Y'all, I love this so much. 🥹 Rick is a family man through and through and I gotta break down why I appreciate this as the first thing Rick says.

One; that’s his baby girl and as a parent you know it had to be so extremely painful to not know if Judith is okay let alone even alive. I really did get the sense from TOWL ep 1 that Judith is an extremely sensitive topic for Rick since not knowing her fate is just an unbearable pain. So I love that the second Rick gets to ask his wife for confirmation about if their daughter is alive it’s the first thing he wants to know.

gif cred: @saoirse-ronan

(Side note: this also makes me loathe Jadis even more because she was all looking forward to her annual meetups with Father Gabriel while Rick didn’t even get to know the status of his wife and daughter. 😤 The least that evil woman could have done was confirm to Rick that they were alive but no, he’s had to go years just trying to believe they were still out there.)

Two; It’s so true to the character of Rick Grimes to ask about his kids first because he did that so often in the main show. There’s so many times when his first question was about his kids and so this was very fitting. Times that come to mind is when Michonne killed the Governor and Rick’s first question is where’s Carl. When he finds Carl after the prison he wants to know where Judith is. In ASZ he loses sight of the kids and immediately goes running after them. And when he arrives back to ASZ in s8 he wants to know where the kids are. His kids are always a priority so I love that this is the first thing he wants to know.

Three; I love that after nearly dying himself on this day his concern is immediately on whether his baby girl is okay. He never stopped having a father's love for Judith and that was so evident. Four; it showed that his wife and daughter really are his choice because those are the two he most wants to check on. Five; the way he says it is so vulnerable. Because think about it, he basically has to brace for the answer to potentially be “no she’s not alive” but he has to know. It’s been too painful to go all these years not knowing. 

And then it is just beautiful the way Michonne smiles and reassures Rick that their daughter is okay. She completely understands why this would be his first question and she loves him for it.

She takes Rick’s face in her hands as she smiles and tells him, “She’s okay” and the way Rick repeats with just overwhelming relief, “She’s okay” makes me teary every time. Every single time. 🥺

gif cred: @surii

In this moment you just see the dad who loves his daughter so much and who loves Michonne so much, especially knowing Judith is okay because of Michonne. I love how he repeats the words and believes them and it’s just said so softly and movingly as something he’s been dying to know for years - dying to know his daughter is okay. 🥲

Also, It’s wild how this incredible Richonne journey went from Rick (lying) telling Michonne that if she didn’t have that formula for Judith he wouldn’t have taken her in to now Rick having to ask Michonne as Judith’s mother how their daughter is doing. 😭

The way Michonne smiles as she answers just feels like she's so happy to be able to assure Rick baby, I got her, all these years I’ve held her, protected her, raised her, and our daughter is okay. Seeing Michonne be such an elated mom and wife in this moment warms my heart. And I love that not only is Judith alive, she’s Michonne's mini-me.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Michonne repeats with a smile, “She’s okay, Rick, yeah.” Hearing her say his name is music to my ears. And I love that she says Judith is okay even tho she had to go a year away from their baby girl. She’s choosing to only entertain a scenario where Judith is okay. 

This was such a wonderful mom-and-dad moment. I love that their first exchange of dialogue is about their daughter. 🥲

gif cred: @hikarielizabethbloom

What’s so great about Richonne’s initial reunion is that it really felt like they just picked up where they left off in a lot of ways. And the way Richonne so visibly cherished being parents to Judith in s9 it is so beautiful to see them now talk about her again years later as her mom and dad.

Judith is so loved by her parents and I love to see it. And for Michonne it has to mean so much that she now gets to talk about her daughter with the person who loves her just as much as she does - Judith’s dad. 🥹

Then Rick sways back and forth and looks down appearing to feel a sense of shame for being in that CRM gear as he tries to utter out words. Michonne watches him and lovingly places her hand on his face before he gets the words out. Rick is her baby for real because she’s just so comforting as she senses everything he’s feeling. 😭

Rick tells Michonne, “I’m not - I’m not with them.” I love that he really does mean that in this moment. Despite piloting the helicopter that just crashed, telling Okafor he’s in, and giving orders to those soldiers, once Rick sees Michonne all of that is out the window and he’s not with them and knows nothing about that CRM lifestyle or whatever they got going on because that's not him. 😇👌🏽

gif cred: @surii

You know Rick felt it important to clarify this because he can tell Michonne has beef with the CRM and he’s like I want you to know this is not the clique I claim so you don’t have to have beef with me. Part of why he can say 'I’m not with them' is because his heart has always been with her. In its own way this is him letting her know 'I know what it looks like but trust me I’m still yours, not theirs.'

He says it so vulnerably, almost nervous about what Michonne will think. But Michonne is Rick's soulmate and she knows where his heart really lies so she says assuredly with a tear down her face, “I know.” I love that response. 😭

It reminds me of the great scene in TWD 4.16 when Rick tells her he’s okay and she says “I know.” In that s4 scene, Rick asks “how” Michonne knows he's okay and Michonne shows an awareness of how interconnected they are when she says “cuz I’m okay too.”

And from there, their interconnectedness only grew stronger and more evident as the seasons progressed to the point that now in TOWL, Rick doesn’t even have to ask how Michonne knows he’s not with the CRM. He knows how she knows - because they’re still one like that. They still deeply and intrinsically know each other with no explanations needed. True soulmates. 👌🏽

gif cred: @surii

And receiving that immediate belief has to mean so much to him. She really is just like the Michonne in his dreams, believing in him no matter what. 

So now that he’s got two important things covered - confirming Judith is alive and confirming he doesn't have an allegiance to these CRM people Michonne has beef with - Rick is ready to give all his focus to Michonne and more intently greet his wife as he leans in for a kiss that makes my top 2 Richonne kisses of all time. 🤩

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Y’all, this kiss is everything, and they more than delivered with Richonne’s first real kiss in years. 🔥🙌🏽

This kiss captures everything Richonne feels about each other. It was eager and certain and passionate and sensual and organic and utterly fitting for an epic love story.

I remember my heart just soaring when first seeing this moment and my heart still melts over it now. Like the lighting was perfect, the framing, the way their eyes hardly flutter because they’re so locked in and present at this moment together. I mean they communicated the love they have for each other loud and clear with these excellent 7 kisses.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

The way they kiss each other…no one was ever going to come along and compete or compare in their life because Rick and Michonne be kissing each other's soul.

Their passion for each other is simply unrivaled. ❤️‍🔥 And it's perfect that this is the level of passion and intense love that they express to each other in the very first few minutes of their reunion. Like they don't have to build up to this type of kiss or hesitate, wondering if the other still loves them the same - they're just immediately on the same wavelength and showing loud and clear that they are still utterly in love with each other.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love the way Rick leans in almost like he’s still dreaming and the way Michonne smiles that her fine man who has only got finer is clearly still so in love with her like she’s in love with him. She went from wrapping herself in his shirts to being swallowed up by the man himself. Love that for her. 😋

I also adore how steady and locked in Rick is during their first kiss even despite having gone through so much craziness just seconds before. It’s yet another illustrator of the way Michonne calms and centers him.

And the way Michonne wraps her arms around him after the first kiss and they just literally kiss like their life depends on it and are as close as humanly possible. Their love is as alive as ever. 🥰

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It’s so clear that Richonne really gets fully immersed in their love story and it’s the BEST. They have moments, especially in kisses, where they just feel like they are so present in the fact that they found their one true love.

And Rick and Michonne were living their best fairytale life with this moment in the woods after waiting so long and reserving their heart for each other alone. This is the only person they ever want to kiss like this and now they get to. 🙌🏽

It's great how they didn't even have to pause for one second to wonder if the other had moved on. Just from looking into each other's eyes, they innately knew that they were still in love like they never left.

There honestly aren’t enough words to describe how much I love this kiss so I’ll just say - tens across the board. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽😍

gif cred: @riickgrimes

So then they return to embracing each other after that kiss of life as Michonne smiles and Rick continues to cry on her shoulder.

TOWL made it very clear that Richonne’s kisses are communication and you know ‘I love you and I’ve never stopped loving you’ was conveyed crystal clear from them both.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Hearing them both take the biggest breaths and cry as they hug because for the first time in eight years, they have that missing part of their heart back. 😭 They’re slowly but surely becoming more whole again just by being in each other's presence. I’ve said it before - in each other's arms is where they’re most meant to be. 

gif cred: @lousolversons

Michonne keeps her hands on Rick’s face as she pushes his hair back and just takes this all in, marveling that he’s alive and has clearly been through a lot but is still standing. It’s so preciously tender.

Michonne is so caring to all but you know there are three people alive who Michonne feels most called to be nurturing to and it’s her babies and her husband and you can just see that in this moment as she offers him the warmth and comfort he so deeply needs.

gif cred: @nat111love

And Rick again leans into her touch and just seems so overcome with emotion. I love that we can see him place a hand on her shoulder as he too lets it sink in that the love of his life really did find her way back to him. 

After likely only envisioning scenarios where he’d have to make it back to her, Rick is reminded that he and his wife are truly cut from the same cloth so of course Michonne was working on getting back to him as well. 

gif cred: @nat111love

Y’all, this moment was everything I could have wanted from Richonne’s reunion scene. Flawless. 💯👑 And I love that they got a chance to really let this part of the reunion breathe as Richonne allowed the two of them to be the only thing going on in the world for a moment. Like the way they were so focused on loving on each other in this moment is super special.

You’d never guess that Rick had just seen Okafor explode and got into a helicopter crash. You’d never guess Michonne was just slicing throats a second ago. In this moment all they were was each others. Time froze and Richonne’s love was able to fill the screen and be the center of everything, and I love to see it. 

gif cred: @superpowered-dirt

However, if there’s one thing the world loves to do it’s scream at Richonne and so after this gorgeous moment of joy we’re yanked right back into the drama and high stakes as the CRM is about to put a major damper on things. And you know we gotta break it down.

But just like Richonne let this initial reunion breathe and have its moment, that’s what I want to do with this post and just live in it for a moment as a gorgeous and euphoric reunion between the best soulmates on television and between two undeniable magnets. 🧲

This gorgeous and epic Richonne reunion was entirely worth the wait. 🥹👌🏽

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (3)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Obnoxious coworkers, what is the proper ettiquette when emailing princes, teasing Captain

Summary: You're a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You've been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: Please comment/like/reblog. If you'd like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

The meeting was as boring as the fallen prince expected it to be, but he hardly showed his disdain for his time being wasted. Cabinet meetings and audiences with nobility and dignitaries were expected and mandatory for royals. In his opinion, a majority of them were hardly worth the time and could be easily sorted out with logic, but politics hardly worked that way. It was fickle, changing at the whim of whomever is more powerful. And though at times it was fun to see how the spoiled nobles would squabble over the most ridiculous things, the majority of it was always dull.

To think I once found such a thing mesmerizing as a young boy, wanting to follow my father everywhere and prove myself useful to him. A moment to shine, to step out of the immense shadow casted by my brother. The corners of his lips tugged downwards at the miasma of memories that began to stir. He knew the ledge was a precarious one and a single thought could have him plummeting to the depths and ensnare him.

“Do you have any questions?” The agent looked at the members of the group one by one, hesitating and nearly jumping over Loki to avoid eye contact.

“Agent Pruyn, was it?” He watched the man who was addressing them flinch at the call of his name. “Would it not be wiser for me to be the one who distracts them? I am able to change my image to look like anyone. I would merely need some footage of the person I am to imitate to better play the role. You will also be able to monitor my movements since I will be in the banquet hall as opposed to behind the scenes searching through the office.” Minimal footage of me in questionable places is best. Who knows what someone might do as an act of vengeance. 

“No, this is the best plan of action. Hawkeye is better suited for that portion of the mission and needs support while Black Widow distracts the target.” Agent Pruyn cleared his throat. The lack of negative reaction from the others seemed to embolden him a little bit. “Also, are you implying that she can't handle it? Black Widow is the best undercover agent we have. She's successfully infiltrated hundreds of places while you've only failed at discretion.” He scoffed. 

There it was. The bias and condescending tone, the twisting of his words, and the lack of support. Such insolence made his blood boil to the point of physically punishing the fool, but he kept his reactions in check with a blank expression. Silently, he changed the way they perceived him to look identical to the infamous fiery haired operative who was sitting with them. Everyone in the room stared at him in wide eyed shock, looking at him and her to see if there was a difference. 

“Well isn't that a neat little trick.” Natasha was the first to break the silence. “Certainly beats needing to put on that holographic skin.” She leaned in closer, trying to find some flaw.

“Stare all you like, you won’t be able to tell the difference unless I let you.” He said in her voice.

“If he’s so good at keeping up an appearance, why not just swap them? Nat and I are equally able to get in and out without issues if there’s a good enough diversion.” Clint shrugged, though he was impressed at how perfectly Loki copied her.

“I don’t have an issue with that change, I’m the one who can break into the computer system they have. It’s better if I’m with Clint.” Natasha agreed, Loki shifting back to himself.

“So, we’re in agreement. I will be the one to keep the group busy and the both of you will gather the necessary information. As I stated, I’ll require footage and data on the individual I’ll be impersonating.” He turned his attention back to Agent Pruyn who seemed rather cross with the change to his plan but said nothing since the other two Avengers were agreeing with Loki.

“We’ll need to adjust the timeline of the operation then. Everything was set up for this plan, we’ll need to adjust and see if there’s another gathering we can infiltrate.” 

“You say this person of interest has possible ties to this Hydra organization, correct? Why don’t we get ourselves invited to his home or wherever you think he is housing the necessary information? Why must we wait for some large gathering outside somewhere else?” Loki questioned. 

“We can’t just waltz into his home unannounced.” Agent Pruyn scoffed. “Do you think he just calls people over for tea time? This isn’t one of your royal games, Loki.” The condescending tone was back once more with a sense of triumph. This was hardly enough to anger the prince, but he was not so lenient to let it slide for a second time.

“Who said anything about tea?” He looked at the agent with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you had the time for such frivolous plans. I must disappoint you, my plans do not allot time for such.” Agent Pruyn grit his teeth and glared at the insouciant attitude the Asgardian was speaking with to him. A few of the other members of the meeting snickered at the calm retort, looking away to avoid the ire of the presenter. “This target has questionable connections and has a proclivity to feign a charitable appearance through auctions. We need to approach him as someone equally shady who wishes to either wash their hands of some item or trade an item to someone else and obtain the money under the guise of donating to said charity. We simply need to choose someone from his connections or create someone completely new.”

“That,” Natasha was the first to speak, coincidentally cutting Pruyn off, “is an excellent idea. If we came as someone new, trying to make a name for themself, they’ll be more likely to accept us if we come with an item of great value. Loki can play the part of the client and I can easily play the part of his assistant as needed to keep up the facade. Once we’re invited in, I can get Clint inside and we can get the information we need while the auction is going on.”

“Until the auction takes place, we can build a relationship with him and others. We can record all the conversations and pick up on any codes they use to discuss the secret dealings!” A female agent chimed in soon after, realizing an extra benefit to this plan.

“This makes it a much longer plan than anticipated though, we’ll have to resubmit the plan to our lead agent and to Director Fury.” A male agent pointed out.

“Sounds like it’s a necessary delay if it’s going to be more fruitful than the original operation. I guess Thor wasn’t exaggerating when he boasted about how strategic you are.” Clint slightly nodded his head in approval. “Redraft the plan and submit it, we’ll see what Fury says before moving forward.”

“We’ll schedule our next meeting after that.” Natasha nodded, standing from her seat. The others followed her actions and the meeting came to an end with a very irate Pruyn glaring at the back of Loki’s head. A small smirk of satisfaction tugged at the Asgardians lips as he walked down the halls, feeling lighter at proving himself as worthy to be on the team.

Y/N stared at the screen of her computer, willing it to fill the empty body of the email that was addressed to the two Avengers she was allowed to work with. Glancing at the time, she groaned audibly and turned her chair around so her back was to the screen.

Three hours, I’ve been staring at this blasted computer screen for three hours! Why do I need to message them!? Wasn’t Agent Hill supposed to coordinate this? Why is everything suddenly dumped on me from start to finish? This is ridiculous! Next they’ll want me to manage their schedules and make sure they have time to complete their missions and assist in my never ending task! I am not some over glorified secretary, I am the head of the Resource Management department, the director of it! I attend all the ridiculous morning meetings, check-ins, and any other waste of time meeting that could have easily been an email instead while managing all centers that contain our resources, digital and physical! She pushed herself out of the chair and paced in the space she had behind the desk. “When am I supposed to even meet with them when both are due to be deployed this week!” She threw her hands in the air as she shouted into the empty office. Defeated, she slumped back into her seat and turned to face the computer once more. 

She did not want to wait until their return, she needed it done now so that while they were gone she could have the computers and scanners set up and be ready to start as soon as they returned. Straightening up her posture, she pulled the keyboard forward and quickly began to type a brief email stating she was approached by Agent Hill and wanted to set up a short meeting in person to introduce herself and better understand how to properly utilize their assistance and time. She also added that the both of them are available tomorrow after lunch for a brief period of time. Rereading her email over and over again, she made sure there was no error before finally hitting the send. Now she had to wait for a response. Thankfully, the chime signaling the door opening was a great distraction, letting her escape the panic while waiting for a response.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?” She happily greeted the person as she stepped out of her office. “Oh, Captain Rogers, how are you?”

“Good afternoon Y/N, I’m doing well. How are you doing?” He smiled, giving her a slight nod.

“Could do with less work, but that’s not going to change anytime soon.” She tiredly chuckled.

“I don’t know how you handle your work at all. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a fourth of what’s here. They’ve got the right gal for the job here.” He patted her on the back. “Which is an expertise I’ll be needing at the moment. I’ll be going out on a mission with Thor and Tony to a fairly remote area with indigenous people. Thor will be a great asset with his AllSpeak, but I’d like to get some insight on the culture.”

“Oh, so no “An American Girl” books this time around? Or  the “Hardy Boys”?” She curled her lips inward to keep from laughing as she watched the famous Captain America clear his throat and turn away to hide the hints of a blush that were creeping up onto his cheeks.

“No, not this time. But maybe when I come back you can suggest something for me to read?”

“I would love to, I’ll think up a small list and let you see which you’d like to start with. So, back to your mission, where are you going and do you know the group you’ll be interacting with?” She clapped and rubbed her hands together, eager to be of assistance. “Let’s head to the front desk while you tell me so I can pull up what we have for you.” Nodding his head, he delved into the details of the mission that were necessary, Y/N never asking for more information than necessary as she pulled up anything relevant and jotted it down on a sheet of paper. “Ok, follow me!” She walked back around just as the chime signaled someone else coming in. “Good afternoon, if you need my assistance I will be with you shortly. Please wait at the desk.” She turned to smile at the newcomer only to see the raven haired prince. Oh, good thing I put the book on the table already. “Follow me, Captain Rogers.”

“Y/N, you can just call me Steve. I think we’ve known each other long enough to drop formalities.”

“Captain Rogers, so bold and scandalous!” She gasped. “What would your fangirls think?!”

“Please don’t remind me of those.” He sighed heavily and gave her a stern look. “And I insist you call me Steve, we’re friends.” He flashed her that famous hero smile.

“Alright, alright, Steve it is.” She turned into an aisle and began to skim the codes, pulling out books which were taken from her by the gentleman super soldier beside her. Once everything was pulled, the two went to the nearest table.

“This is great, thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime Capt-,” she stopped at the pointed look he gave her. “Steve. If you need anything, just give a holler. I’ll come help you.”

“We’re in the library, I don’t think hollering is a good idea.” He chuckled.

“Who’s going to stop us, the librarian? Oh wait, that’s me!” She grinned, earning an eye roll from him before he turned his attention to the books he had as she made her way back to the front desk.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss@softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl@rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @kats72 @jainaeatsstars @mssjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki

[dearlawdimasimp]

Master Sorcerer of Kindness and Humility

Pairings: MK System x Sorcerer!Reader, Khonshu x Sorcerer!Reader

Warnings: English isn't my first language, Spanish is from google translate

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Summary: Things in the Sanctum Santorum has been…pretty fucking hectic lately. To put it simply, chaos is in every fucking corner and as a Master Sorcerer of one of the Sanctums in the world, you have to assist the Sorcerer Supreme. Some things are still the usual, but double the effort. Like teaching the new recruits, now, from three different Sanctums instead of one, keep said recruits from the restricted area of the library, guarding the said restricted area of the library and the whole library itself.

With your growing exhaustion, so did the worry of the moon boys grew.

a/n: Hai so uh it has been awhile since i posted eheh I just noticed i have MANY rotting fics in my docs so decided to post now ( ´∀`)/~~ Enjoy lovelies! (^o^)／~💜 (this fic is crossposted on AO3 under the same title and author name ^-^)

Things in the Sanctum Santorum has been…pretty fucking hectic lately. To put it simply, chaos is in every fucking corner and as a Master Sorcerer of one of the Sanctums in the world, you have to assist the Sorcerer Supreme. Some things are still the usual, but double the effort. Like teaching the new recruits, now, from three different Sanctums instead of one, keep said recruits from the restricted area of the library, guarding the said restricted area of the library and the whole library itself.

The supposed assigned sorcerers for each class told you that they are needed on a mission across the globe and are in need of a substitute, of course being the kind soul that you are you agreed on subbing them for the meantime while they're off to save humanity. The library duty has always been yours though, you volunteered on the job when Wong said he needed someone to take his place as he takes the Sorcerer Supreme, and ever since the world has gone back to its normal state, you remained as the librarian.

Your overloaded schedule leads to early mornings and late nights, and less time with your moon boys™.

To say that they are concerned of your health is a bit of an understatement, they're fucking worried as every time they see you, your eyebags grow darker and puffier than the last time.

But, somehow, even with all the things going on with you (only knowing what you are allowed to talk about), you still insert a little bit of your time to cook Steven his favorite breakfast before he goes to work, you still brew up Mark's favorite coffee, prepare Jake's uniform for his side-job during the night as a limo driver, and bring Khonshu offerings on the small altar you've made for him that is purposefully placed on the windowsill where the moon usually shines.

They are thoroughly impressed, but at the same time endlessly worried as your eyes grow weary and exhausted each time you enter the flat.

However, you still have the same warming smile on your lips every time you greet them after work. Joy was etched into your tone as you kissed them and mingled with them for a few hours, dismissing their worries with gentle eyes and kept on insisting that you love your job. You even still have the fiery stare whenever they tell you to rest and let them handle the dishes, which diminishes when Khonshu lays his hand on your shoulders, coaxing you to rest. The god pulls you to the shared bed and once your head hits the plush white pillows, you're out like a light.

The system continues to take care of cleaning the kitchen before joining their sorcerer in deep sleep and joining you in the dreamworld for a while before the Lunar deity of Egypt pulls them to another night of being his fist of vengeance. They would be back and join you once more in bed, and let sleep pull them to its cocoon. And you wake up not an hour later to start the day.

And this went on for a few more days before the moon boys decided to put an end to this. Their last straw was when you had fallen asleep mid-conversation while in front of your food. You were in that level of exhaustion to the point that you couldn't keep yourself awake while eating. They drew the line at that.

They carefully laid your slumbering self down on the bed before donning on the suit, “We'll be back, hermosa.” Jake held your hand and kissed your knuckles tenderly. “We just need to have a bit of a word with them, love, don't worry.” Steven gently lays your hand down on your stomach and leaves a kiss on your forehead before Marc leaps out of the window and out to the London air as Khonshu guides them with his wind to the London Sanctum.

The trip wasn't long before they landed on the Sanctum's roof. The place was brimming with magic and the system could feel it. Marc tries to enter through the window but the scenery changes before his foot lands on the stained glass. A confused and ungraceful landing led him to curse under his breath as he observed his surroundings.

“Be vigilant, Spector.” The god throws caution to the wind, his rumbling voice echoing in the minds of the system. Marc keeps his snarky remark to the god to himself, wanting to tell the god he knows what he's doing. He rolled his eyes instead as he composures himself, and inspects the room they are in.

The place is reminiscent of those temples that houses holy relics, it was old but in tip-top shape. The floor below him looks furnished and one that can be compared closed to an old mansion, and the slabs holding what he thinks are relics had intricate wood carvings were carefully placed on both sides of the hallway he's in. It was leading to an illuminated room and so he took no more than a second to head to the light.

His eyes wandered around the hallway he's walking down in, Steven was gushing at the designs while he and Jake kept silent and kept an eye for any threat.

The room they entered was spacious, save for the relics enclosed in glass and the big circle window that allowed the moonlight to fill the space. It had intricate swirls which Marc remembers, was the same design of the brooch you have on your collar.

However, it wasn't the window that had caught their attention but rather the man behind it, who was eerily calm while peering out the glass. The London night visible to the man that had a red cape that's barely touching the wooden floors.

“An unexpected visit from the Knight of Khonshu himself. You know, you're lucky you're under the protection of the Master Sorcerer here in London.” The man states with a booming voice, bouncing off the walls and glass in the room. It was humorous, but full of threat.

“Or else what?” Marc quips inattentively, keeping distance from the sorcerer who had yet introduced himself.

“Or else I would have thrown you to the ocean the moment you stepped foot on the Sanctum.” The man's baritone voice lowered an octave as he turned to finally meet Moon Knight's glowing eyes.

He had a goatee and the robes he wore were akin to their beloved but in the deep shade of blue instead of your favorite color.

Goatee. Red cloak. This was the Stephen Strange you can't stop complaining about.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips through his masked face. He believes the sorcerer's powers alright, he just can't keep a straight face after the memory of you audibly cussing Strange out had just played in their minds.

“Right,” Marc takes out his crescent daggers from his chest, “I'm only here-”

“Trust me you don't want to fight me.”

“Let us finish, pendejo!” Jake growls as he fronts, not wanting to waste more time and to get out of the place as soon as possible.

They weren't planning to fight. They weren't stupid. They can feel every ounce of energy and magic in the building. They stepped into a lion's den. But if it is what it needs for these sorcerers to hear them? They will face these magic wielders head on.

It seemed that Strange was a bit perplexed at the alter's rage or maybe it was the suit change, but they couldn't care less.

“We're only here because that Master Sorcerer you talked about is always on the verge of passing out every time they go home.” Marc's jaw clenches under the mask as he continues with a step forward to the sorcerer—who promptly took a step back— as his fingers flex around the sharp gold crescent on his hand, “For the past weeks they have been wrung out and just a while ago, had passed out while eating.” When he finished his sentence the room was suddenly swept with a wild draft, with no windows open.

They were not able to notice the confused and worried squint of the former sorcerer supreme's eyes as Marc continues, his tone nothing but purely scathing.

“My point is, We will not be allowing them to come to work tomorrow and until she gets the proper rest she deserves, and not until you fix her schedule that is ethical and appropriate hours of work.” He ends his spiel right in front of the sorcerer, looking up to him with a keen glare, his glowing ivory eyes illuminating the sharpened features of Stephen Strange.

“Or else?” The sorcerer rasps as he stares right back at the avatar, standing his ground, and using the exact words back to the stark white cloaked man.

As if on cue, stronger gusts of wind shakes the glass covers and uncovered relics. The Egyptian God of the Moon materializes behind the sorcerer and with a booming, bitter voice, he answers, “Then you will face the consequences of causing harm to one of whom is under my protection, Stephen Strange.”

The said sorcerer turns his body to the side to glance at the moon god. In all his glory he was towering over him, moonlight was illuminating his monstrously tall and slender figure as the bronzed crescent end of his staff that is nearly scratching the ceiling reflected it. His loose, darkened, silk robe was flowing and whipping around without the presence of the wind, his crouched figure wrinkling the bandages on his torso as his bleached bird skull head tilted down and gave Stephen a hollowed stare.

With a sigh, which had displeased the moon collective and took it as an insult, he nodded to accept their terms. He honestly had no idea you had worked yourself to the bone and will consult the other Master Sorcerers and Wong of your schedule. He knew you were humble and kind, but he didn't know it would be up to the point that your.. acquaintances.. had to show up and tell them of your over-extended goodwill.

“I will inform our masters of such, thank you for bringing this to our attention.” He ends the conversation as he does not want to deal with whatever this is. He was not intimidated, not one bit—okay maybe a bit but he has faced much worse! What's intimidating him is the fact that a literal god has taken you under his wing and has gone out of his way to announce his displeasure.

“As you should.” And with that, the moon party calmed down before they vanished in a swirl of blur and whirling sand. Let's just say you were confused when you woke up late, about to dash to the bathroom before you were stopped by your moon god and gave you a letter that was sent by the Sorcerer Supreme that basically said take a break. You were perplexed as you stared at the paper then up to the moon god, who ushered you back to bed and lulled you to sleep. When you woke up you were pampered by the boys with food and cuddles, all gently forcing you to stay in bed and to let them service you for the day as they had also taken the day off. You couldn't help but tear up at their tender loving care all day and being such gentlemen for doing such. Your love for them was overflowing and you kept promising them that you would do the same to them if ever need be, which they dismissed because as they said, “Today is all about you, love. So you better descansar(take a rest), and we'll take care of the rest, sweetheart. And not just today, up until the last day of the week or maybe next couple of weeks, you got that baby?”

This has earned a heartful laugh from you and an affectionate shake of your head before pulling them into a kiss. You were puzzled and have a lot of questions as to how or why you were given a large amount of time off but you really couldn't complain especially if it meant more time with your moon boys.

Back to the sanctum however, the former sorcerer supreme was fuming at the how fucked up your schedule was and how fucked up you were for taking it even though you were literally doing the impossible, and the fact that none of the other masters pointed it out to Wong, who was also equally fuming to the masters that had asked you to cover for them for a ‘mission’ when they were just taking a fucking vacation.

"You are lucky their patron didn't know of your whereabouts, or gods knows what he will do to you.” Wong warned them, displeased and infuriated, written all over his features.

Oh but Khonshu heard, of course he did, and made those masters’ month a living hell through inconveniencing them at every chance he gets. To which Strange and Wong only but gave them a deadpanned stare of ‘deal with it’ when they asked for their help.

[princess-ibri]

Darkside Disney Princesses: Jasmine

This story features another twist in the tale with a loved one lost to the snow, this time Aladdin, who is unable to make it back to Agrabah from the frozen ends of the earth. Leaving Jasmine, the Sultan, and the people of Agrabah to the torments of Jafar.

Jafar discovers soon enough that the Genie can’t force anyone to fall in love, and Jasmine is more then willing to claw his eyes out if he tries anything.

But Jafar, more interested in seeing her humiliated, then actually possessing her in such a way, knows that while Jasmine might not be willing to be his ‘Queen’, he can still bring her low in other equally cruel ways.

He also knows she’s definitely going to be plotting to get the lamp away from him as soon as she possibly can, and wishing away all his ill gained power.

So he takes her voice.

“I’ve always thought it best that a woman should be seen and not heard, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jasmine is kept as an ornament, adorned with jewels, in mockery of her status, and kept chained to Jafar’s throne; a pretty face to be shown off to those who come to try and treat with Jafar, a warning of what could happen to their own wives and daughters should they not comply. Just as the puppet Sultan serves to show their potential fate.

And trapped by chains of steel and scilence, Jasmine seethes. Every day she stands, forced to hold Jafar’s food and wine and watch as he plays with people’s lives like toys, and every night she dreams her dreams of vengeance, of all the things she would do to him if she was free.

A possiblity that seems farther and farther away as Jafar extends his reach out into the rest of the Seven Deserts. He is the most powerful sorcerer in the world after all, why not rule it then?

There are those who fight back of course. Both mortal and magic users alike. Jafar might be the most powerful but he is far from the only one. Their magic might not be enough to overcome him, but working together they can at least hold him back for a time.

But there are also many who choose to fall in with the sorcerer king, either to try and escape his wrath, gain some of his power, or both.

Tribute pours in, gold and jewels, slaves and sacrifices. All to try and appease Jafar, to keep his capricious temper in check. Jafar of course has never been one to excercise moderation, and demands more and more. The palace is awash with treasure from across the Seven Deserts and even beyond.

And this is what eventually turns the tables.

For one day, Jafar, glutted on drink and reveling in the newest swathes of tribute, slips a ruby ring onto Jasmine’s ring finger, another mocking ‘gift’ to remind her of her fallen state.

Had he been less drunk on fine wine and stolen power, he might have noticed the tinge of magic on the ring. But he is the most powerful sorcerer in the world after all, who holds one of the cosmically powerful genies at heel, magic flows through the palace like water,who would notice a drop in an ocean?

As it happens, it is not until nightfall, when Jafar has left Jasmine alone in the darkened throne room to once more dream her dark vengeance, that the ring’s power is discovered.

Jasmine had thought herself long since grown used to Jafar’s cruelty. But today he has been particularly vile, plotting new tourtures for a city he has managed to subdue. Jasmine feels a tear course down her cheek at the memory of it, and quickly brushes it away, for she has long since learned that tears avail nothing.

But in doing so, she rubs the ring, infusing in with the tears of her sorrow.

And the ring awakens

What pours out of it, wreathed in crimson smoke, is another genie, yet one as unlike the poor gentle souled slave of Jafar’s as can be. Eyes like burning coals, licks of fire dance across its skin, two long spiraling horns bursting from a head of flaming hair.

The genie turns it’s fiery gaze on Jasmine, taking in her shackles, both the physical ones around her wrists and ankles, and the magical one that binds her tongue.

“Oh princessss, I sssee we have both been bound by the magicsss of men. This sssorcerer has bound you, as accurssed Sssolomon sought to bind all jinn across time and ssspaccce.”

The genie’s voice is like the hissing of steam, and the crackling of flame.

“You cannot sssspeak, and ssso you cannot wisssh for your voice, your freedom, your vengeance, just as I cannot be freed from my chainsss, cannot kill—Unlesss…”

The genie reaches out to Jasmine, tracing the track of the tear that freed it from it’s ring, and steam rises up from its touch.

“There isss one thing we could do, to gain freedom for us both.”

“ Grant me the ussse of your body, your bonesss and blood and breath. And I will grant you in turn my ssstrength, my ssskill, my voiccce. I ssshall make it ssso that none can ever ssscilence you ever again. Do you accept thisss exchange, thisss bargain? You need only nod to accept…”

Jasmine stares up at the fiery being before her, at this one chance in a thousand for freedom that has come to her, through chance or destiny, she knows not what, nor does she care. For she knows that if she does not take this chance now, another may never come.

She nods.

Flames and smoke swirl around her, a whirlwind of fire, with her directly in the eye of the storm. The fire rises up and up, and then comes pouring down, a burning wave, down into her throat, scorching her from the inside as the genie burns itself into her bone marrow and blood, sinking into every space within her.

Jasmine spasms, choking, shaking, falling to the floor. For a moment she lies still as death

And then she rises, takes a breath, and rips the manacles from her wrists as if they were made from paper.

The ring on her finger glows in unison with the fire that now glows behind her eyes.

As she stalks through the palace, her steps are so silent they don’t even raise an echo—and yet she leaves the floor beneath her shattered with each step.

Jafar has long since thought himself secure within the chambers of his stolen palace, protected by the wards he’s set that should imolate any mortal who attempts to break them. Wards that the princess now walks through as though they were nothing more than spider webs.

For Jafar’s power was granted by a genie, and one greater than that being now stands above his sleeping form, one that has no fear of fire.

She reaches out with one hand towards his slumbering parrot familiar, and with the other for the lamp that sits on his bedside.

Jafar wakes to the sound of a crunch, but has less than a moment to wonder at the cause before one of the jeweled swords that he’d hung in his chambers is sinking into his heart down to the hilt.

The spells he set crumble and fall within an instant. All those ensorcelled by the mad vizier return to their original forms; the people who are brave enough rush to the palace to see who it is who has freed them; the Sultan freed from his puppet strings races to find his daughter, to see if she too is now freed from their horrid imprisonment.

He finds her sitting upon his throne, the lamp resting in her lap as she cleans a long knife, a strange ring casting a red glow upon her face as she looks up to see him.

“Father”, the princess says calmly, her voice echoing strangely around the room. “We sssee you are well. We do hope you weren’t looking too forward to taking this throne back. After all, it was you who let Jafar in at the door. And We really can’t have anything like that happening again. Rivalsss for power make things ssso complicated after all.”

She strokes the lamp as she speaks, and the blue genie pours out, looking down at the princess with utter horror, more than he’d even shown to Jafar. The princess just smiles up at him.

“Dear cousin, We hope you know this is nothing personal. It’s sssimply good business sssense. Neither of us wish to be bound again ssshould your lamp fall into the wrong hands. And ssso for our first, and final wish, We wish that you, would no longer exist.”

Reality itself seems to bend together for a moment, as the lamp in the princess’s hands crumbles into itself before crumbling into dust, the genie tied to it fading away like mist beneath the morning sun.

“And now,” the princess says, with a wide, gleaming smile “We can truly start to get to work…”

[babyblue711]

Loyalty

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD) x Alys Rivers - Part 2 Including the conclusion of its sister story, Little Dragonseed Summary: Aemond, in his quest for vengeance, torches the Riverlands while Alys is but an unwilling passenger with a burning secret of her own. Meanwhile, back at Harrenhal, the little maid waits for her rescuer, but war-torn Westeros may have other plans in store for her. Words: 3.6K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Canon Divergence, War things A/N: As noted, there is canon divergence in this story; there is no Sabitha Frey, and, for the purpose of this tale, the timeline may be a little wonky. Perhaps it's just me, but I broke my own heart writing this. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, reblogs, thoughts, opinions are welcome and appreciated 😘 💙 And, thank you, to my amazing beta reader and incredible gif maker, @myfandomprompts who made the Aemond banner for me.

<<< Part 1

They flew.

And the realm burned.

And on they soared upon ancient wings… 

And burned. Burned. Burned.

Any settlement in the Riverlands sworn to Queen Rhaenyra met their downfall, becoming kindling for Aemond’s wrath. Nothing could stand against Vhagar’s flames as she left ashes and despair in their wake. 

Riding on dragonback was a breathtaking experience; there was an exhilarating power in soaring through the sky, close to the heavens, far removed from the hellish war-torn realm below. But she could not enjoy it, her awe was constantly overshadowed by Aemond’s unyielding anger.

He had brought her along purposefully, but for all the notice he took of her, she might as well have been invisible and her attempts at calming his relentless rage were futile. He seemed interested in one thing and one thing only: her visions of the future and the path he should take forward. When she couldn’t summon an immediate answer, his response was simply to enact revenge on the supporters of the Black Queen. Unable to sway him, she remained silent, an unwilling passenger caught in the storm of his vengeance.

They did not return to Harrenhal and, instead, survived off the land. Luckily, she possessed a deep knowledge of edible plants and fungi and they had no trouble catching game. They bathed in a freshwater river and, in the evenings, Vhagar’s fiery breath cooked their suppers and provided warmth against the chill of the night. 

Aemond barely spoke to her, his mind consumed by grief and rage, his ego shattered by Daemon and the black faction at the insurmountable loss of King’s Landing. The once prideful, arrogant young man was becoming a shadow of the fierce prince she had known, his calculating eye now vacant and haunted as he worried obsessively about what had become of his family he left behind.

During one of their many silent nights, as they sat around the fire, the urge to speak to him gnawed at her. She knew she should tell him the truth, but the timing felt impossibly wrong. 

She needed to tell him that they had succeeded. She had suspected for a little while now, but wanted to wait to make absolutely sure. Now that time had passed, it was hard to keep this knowledge to herself.

But how could she share this revelation when his heart was still so torn? She watched him from across the fire, his face illuminated by the dancing flames, feeling the weight of her secret press down on her. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the inevitable. “My prince,” she began softly, her voice almost swallowed by the crackling fire. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “There’s something you need to know…”

“A vision?” he asked, immediately perking up, his interest piqued. She pressed her lips together as she moved around the fire to sit on his good side; Would that be all he would ever care about? Is that all she meant to him? 

She chose not to voice these thoughts, instead gently taking his warm hand into her own. Her touch seemed to surprise him, a flicker of emotion crossing his face; they had not been intimate since they left Harrenhal. He turned to look at her fully for the first time in what felt like ages and she felt breathless under the intensity of his gaze, as if he were truly seeing her again.  

“No… not quite,” she replied, trying not to feel discouraged as she saw his face fall. She decided to get it over with quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth. “I…I am with child. Your child, my prince.” She placed her free hand over her lower belly for emphasis, giving him a small smile at this precious news, waiting with bated breath for his reaction.

Aemond's gaze hardened, his eye narrowing as he processed her words. His nostrils flared, and a tense silence hung between them, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she waited for him to speak.

“Ar– are you not pleased? Your bloodline will endure…” she started to say, her voice faltering.

“A bastard. That is what we have made together,” he interrupted, disappointment etched into every line of his exquisite face as his frown deepened, twisting his sensuous lips into a grimace as his words cut through her like a knife.

“Aemond,” she began again, her voice more determined, “this child is part of your legacy. The blood of the dragon flows through his veins. Does that not mean something to you?”

He pulled his hand away from hers, standing up abruptly and pacing by the fire, his mind clearly torn.

“Legacy…” he mutters, almost to himself. “What legacy do I leave in this world of ashes and betrayal? My family doesn’t even know about you…what would my mother say– ?”

She rose to her feet, moving towards him, needing him to understand.

“Their opinions matter little now, what’s done is done. A child is a blessing, Aemond, no matter who its parents are,” Alys said softly but firmly, running her hand over his arm and feeling relief when he doesn’t pull away. “I implore you to listen to me. I carry the child of Aemond Targaryen, Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, and Dragonrider of the mighty Vhagar. If it bothers you that we are unmarried then do what’s best for the sake of your son, Aemond. Marry me,” she pleads, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I long to be your loving wife, to stand by your side. I will help you achieve greatness, and ensure our child not only endures but thrives, following in your footsteps to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Together, we can end this war.”

Aemond looked lost, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames of the fire, the light flickering across his face, highlighting the lines of worry and doubt etched into his features.

“How do you know I will rule?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with uncertainty.

“I have seen it, my prince,” Alys replied, her tone filled with conviction. She leaned closer, her hand still resting on his arm, drawing strength from the contact.

“Daemon is your one last, true foe. You will defeat him, how could you not? He is old and well past his prime. Caraxes is no match for the might of Vhagar. I have seen your victory in the clouds when we fly high on Vhagar’s back. There will be a battle above a great lake; I have seen him fall into the water and be swallowed by their depths.” Her voice gained a fervent edge as she continued, painting a vivid picture of the future she envisioned. “You will rule and be a mighty king, my prince, and I already carry your son and heir.”

Aemond's expression remained conflicted, but there was a spark of something in his eye��hope, perhaps, or a glimmer of belief. Alys could see the battle within him, the struggle between his self-doubt and the destiny she foretold. She pressed on, her hand moving to gently cup his scarred cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“You are destined for greatness, Aemond. Together, we can shape the future of the Seven Kingdoms. After Daemon is finished, we will go to King’s Landing and rescue your mother and sister within; they are still alive, I know it. Trust in me, trust in us.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then, slowly, Aemond lifted his hand to cover hers, a sign of his acceptance as his eye finally softened. His grip was firm as he bent to kiss her sweetly on the lips, which she immediately deepened, starving for his touch and affection. 

“Alright then…for our child,” Aemond said with conviction as he pulled away, his singular violet eye alight with fire once more, alive with passion, fueled with purpose.  

With only Vhagar as their witness, they stood beneath the open sky and recited the ancient marriage ritual of House Targaryen, their voices steady and resolute, echoing the vows of his ancestors. 

For a moment, war and destruction, heartache and pain seemed to fall away as they found solace in each other’s arms. Aemond's touch was gentle, his fingers trailing softly over her skin as if memorizing every inch of her. He made love to her with reverence, with such a tenderness it was as if she was suddenly made of glass. The world outside ceased to exist as they lost themselves in each other, their bodies entwined in a rhythm of love and passion.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Aemond allowed himself a moment of happiness. His usual mask of sternness and determination melted away, replaced by a genuine smile as he thought of his son. He looked at Alys with true affection, his hand moving to rest on her still flat belly. She could see the wonder in his eye, the silent imagining of her swollen with his child, a symbol of their union and the future they hoped to build together.

Basking in his tender affection, her heart swelled with love and gratitude. She returned his caresses, her hands moving over his strong back, tracing the contours of his muscles. As Aemond placed a gentle kiss on her abdomen, she sighed with deep contentment, enjoying his bare skin on hers, the feeling of his seed leaking from between her thighs, the burning of the fire in her lower belly as the blood of the dragon nestled within. It is the most loved and cherished she had ever felt in her entire life.

Back at Harrenhal, the little maid waited anxiously. A few days before, the Prince Regent and the witch had fled together after news of King’s Landing's fall reached them. Ser Criston Cole had taken the green army south to join the Hightowers, leaving Harrenhal unguarded and eerily quiet. Now was the most opportune time for Daemon to rescue her, but she had no way to send word to him; she wasn’t even sure of his whereabouts.

So she waited and prayed fervently that her father would come for her. But her prayers were laced with a growing worry.

She worried because her moon's blood was late and she was never late. Despite drinking the tea the witch had given her, she had only had that one cup and now questioned its effectiveness. Was it enough? There was no one left to ask or to make more for her.

She worried because she felt cramping in her lower abdomen without any sign of bleeding. She worried because ordinary smells now made her nauseous, her breasts were constantly sore, and still, her blood did not come. 

One evening, unable to hold back her fears any longer, she broke down and confided in the matron, her surrogate mother that she loved dearly and who she had failed miserably by letting Aemond take advantage of her. The matron listened intently, a deep frown etched between her eyebrows, but she wasn’t angry or disappointed in the maid’s confession. She was only terribly upset for what her young adopted daughter had endured at the hands of the Prince Regent.

Discreetly, the matron arranged for the maester to examine her, and he confirmed her worst fears. She was indeed pregnant; the witch’s potion had failed. His confirmation did not surprise the little maid in the slightest. She had known, deep in her heart, that she was carrying the child of the One-Eyed Prince. A child conceived not out of love, but out of revenge and hatred, shattering her innocence, leaving her to pick up the pieces alone.

The realization weighed heavily on her. What would her father say if he ever found out? Daemon Targaryen was fierce and proud, he would surely be enraged, would surely put her babe to the sword as soon as he was born and the thought horrified her beyond measure. And so she vowed never to tell him the truth. If he came for her, she would have to hide her condition, pretend to have been foolish with someone else…anyone else. 

Not long after her discovery, the haunting shriek of Caraxes pierces the silent night, announcing the return of the Rogue Prince, as he had promised. She rushes to meet him, excitement bubbling in her chest, but also a twinge of fear, knowing she now has to play her part.

Daemon looks tired and worn, the toll of the war evident in every line on his face. But when he sees her, his expression brightens.

“Little one,” he greets warmly, reaching out to embrace her in a father’s hug she has never known before. She inhales the scent of dragon and smoke clinging to his clothes, feeling a fleeting sense of safety.

“Are we leaving? I can pack my things…” she begins eagerly, her voice trailing off as she notices the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m afraid, my little dragonseed, that we cannot go,” Daemon says softly, his voice filled with regret. “I must stay here and cannot be distracted…the Queen and the realm depend on it.” Tears spring to her eyes, and he gently lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Little dragon, you must get away from here. Leave Harrenhal, this place is cursed, probably from that despicable witch,” he growls as a flicker of anger crosses his face as he remembers Alys. 

“She’s gone now…with Prince Aemond,” the little maid tries to explain, her voice trembling. “Alys is not here to make you suffer as she did before.”

Daemon frowns slightly at this unusual piece of information, that Aemond would flee with the witch of all people, but quickly returns to his original point.

“No matter. Run, flee. Do not go to the Riverlands right now; it is not safe,��� he says urgently, taking her face into both of his hands and bowing his forehead against hers. His desperation is palpable and she can see the pain in his eyes, the sorrow of knowing he cannot keep his promise to take her with him.

“But how will you find me again?” she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion.

“Do not worry, my child. If I survive, I will come for you,” he promises for the second time, his voice filling with determination. Yet she can’t bring herself to believe him entirely. She knows he is here to await Prince Aemond, and the prospect of either of them surviving a battle against one another seems slim. Daemon is choosing to sacrifice himself for the good of the realm and she cannot even begin to understand how incredibly brave he is.

Her tears start to flow at this realization and she hates the thought of leaving him behind to await his fate alone, but knows she has little choice. “Where should I go?” she asks, her voice small and fearful.

“Try to avoid any large settlements on your journey. They are currently being targeted by the one-eyed welp. Head south, towards Dragonstone….those loyal to Queen Rhaenyra will help you,” he instructs.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she sobs, her hands clutching at his tunic. “I’m scared.”

Daemon’s heart breaks at her words and he strokes her hair gently, trying to soothe her. “You are strong, my little dragon. You have the blood of Old Valyria in your veins. You will survive this. You must.”

The next day dawns cold and gray, a fitting backdrop for their departure. She and the matron join a gaggle of other inhabitants all intent on fleeing the cursed castle. The little maid is glad to be free of these dark and haunted halls at last.  

Before she leaves, she embraces her father one last time. His arms around her feel strong and protective, but there is a sense of finality that she cannot ignore. She clings to him as he whispers, “Be safe,” his voice rough with emotion. 

“I will,” she promises, though her heart aches with the knowledge that this is a promise she may not be able to keep; the road is dangerous and fraught with peril. She pulls away, wiping her tears on the back of her hand, turning away from him and forcing herself not to look back.

As they leave Harrenhal behind, the group moves in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and fears. The matron walks beside her and the little maid finds herself reaching for her hand, needing reassurance just as if she was a child again. 

She wonders about their journey ahead, hoping they will settle someplace safe; she has already decided that she and the matron will raise her son together. They will find a quiet place, far from the war and destruction, and he will grow up being loved, fiercely and unconditionally. Her son will know the stories of his heritage, even if he never knows his family, and she will be certain to tell him about his brave grandfather and the legacy that flows through his royal veins. 

Alys managed to convince Aemond to delay for a day, to celebrate their union before his incessant need to return to burn the Riverlands once more. They settled in a faraway meadow, a place untouched by the war, where the air was fresh and the sounds of conflict were but a distant memory. It was a brief respite from the carnage, a stolen moment of peace. 

She devoted herself to Aemond, worshiping him with her mouth, savoring, sucking, treating him as a king should be treated. They made love countless times in the soft grass and, as before, Aemond was exceedingly gentle, his touch soft and caring as he suckled her engorged breasts. He didn’t rut into her viciously as he had been known to do in the past, instead pleasuring her with long, slow strokes, bringing her to peak with his tongue.

In those moments, he was without his eyepatch, bare and vulnerable, and she saw the man he might have been had violence not scarred his soul. If the war had never started, she thought, this was who Aemond would be. She wished with all her heart that she could bring peace to the prince’s troubled spirit. 

As they journeyed back to the Riverlands, she estimated they had been gone from Harrenhal for nearly a fortnight. Reality hit her hard as she gazed upon the war-torn realm once more and for the first time in a long while, she was hit by a multitude of visions, many which did not make any sense. She could feel the Rogue Prince’s presence, hear the shriek of his dragon in her dreams. She confessed to Aemond that they must return to Harrenhal, that they were being sought by Daemon.

While they flew, her thoughts drifted to the little maid they had left behind. She fervently hoped the potion she had given the girl had worked; the maid did not need to suffer any more than she already had. Alys could not bear the thought of another child contending for Aemond’s heart….or his legacy. She resolved to check on the girl as soon as they returned to the castle.

As they neared Harrenhal, she felt the unmistakable energy of Caraxes well before she even saw the castle, confirming her fears and driving away any other thought. She knew that this encounter was fated, that the impending clash between Aemond and Daemon was inevitable.

She kissed Aemond for good luck, her prince, her king, the father of her child. His singular eye looked at her with a fleeting softness before hardening into the mask of determination she knew so well. He mounted Vhagar with practiced ease and took to the skies in pursuit of his uncle, so sure of his victory.

High above the God’s Eye she watched their fearsome battle, fear striking deep into her heart as the dragons danced.

And then he fell…she watched in horror…no, it couldn’t be… this was not as she foretold… her beloved prince and his mighty dragon… 

Irreparably broken…

And her world shattered. 

Epilogue

A few years later, along the tranquil banks of Riverrun, a young woman walked with a woven basket in hand, occasionally bending to gather an assortment of mushrooms or plants. She hummed a light, cheerful tune, her bright blonde hair hanging loose and flowing in the warm summer breeze. Here, she no longer had to hide her true self, her bloodline, or her past.

She and the matron had made it back to Riverrun just in time for her to give birth; their journey had been long and arduous as the war raged on, but she had been relieved to finally return home. 

“Mama!” came a small voice from the riverbank. “Fish! Mama!” He pointed excitedly as she drew near and she smiled at his enthusiasm. 

“Yes, Daemon, fish,” she confirmed in a gentle, motherly voice, as she approached him and smoothed his bright blond hair.

The boy turned to her with a radiant smile, his cherubic face and round cheeks a picture of joy and health. His violet eyes always pierced her soul whenever she looked at him, the shadow of his father already prominent in his young face. He was a living, breathing reminder of Aemond, the last trace of his lineage to walk the earth. 

She watched her son affectionately as he splashed in the shallows, his laughter loud amongst the soft sounds of nature. He giggled in delight as the small fish swam around his ankles, seeming just as interested in the little boy as he was in them. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the river, she held his small hand as they walked back toward home, the basket filled with the day’s harvest, her heart content. 

She hoped her father would be proud of her.