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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 months

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Sunwalker

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 2.2K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, near death experience for y/n, Astarion crying, companions featured!, visiting Avernus (yikes), the Underdark, guilt, fear

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Astarion smoothed his thumb over the ring on your finger. No matter how long you had been married it was still as if you had just said “yes” to him. 50 years have passed since the elder brain. 40 of which you have been married for. And every day you woke to those scarlet eyes and fell in love all over again. You remained yourself, Astarion never pressured you to turn into a vampire like him. He knew the loneliness it could bring and he didn’t want that for you. You managed to cultivate an elixir that froze your mortality. It nearly cost you your soul to get all the ingredients, most of which you had to beg, borrow, or just flat out steal from some very prominent gods. But you did it. You froze your aging, remaining as young and beautiful as you were when Astarion met you.

You watched the glow peer through the sheer curtains, leg thrown over Astarions waist as he held your waist in his sleep. Holding you close as always. You looked out into the Underdark, the strange landscape had been your home for quite some time. Beautiful as it was, you missed the sun. The fresh air, the occasional breeze. You never let onto it, knowing Astarion would spiral, envisioning himself as some sort of leech who kept you trapped with him. You would trade the sun for him any day. But still, the heart longs for things it once knew so well.

“Your face will get stuck like that if you frown any harder.” Astarion whispered.

You looked up at him, his eyes were closed still, the ever perceptive bastard. “Bad dream.” you mumbled as you relaxed your face, snuggling into his chest.

“Tell me?” he asked while gently massaging your scalp.

“Sleepy…” you said with a yawn before kissing his chest.

“Then sleep my love, I’ll see you in the morning.”

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You awoke feeling refreshed. Your house was still bathed in darkness. You had grown accustomed to this, but still, sometimes you missed being greeted by the golden rays of the sun.

“Darling,” you started as you stretched your rigid limbs, “I was thinking… Maybe we could go to the surface for a few days? Gale has been begging to see me ever since we moved to the Underdark. I miss our friends. And Jaheira isn’t far off from Waterdeep. Neither is Shadowheart. And I’m sure Karlach would slip away from Avernus for a bit if she knew everyone was top side.” you picked at your nails, you hated talking about the surface. You alway wondered if it made Astarion feel bad.

Astarion kissed your forehead before pulling you up so you could be eye level with him. “My sweet, you may go to the surface whenever you wish, you know that. But… somebody has to stay with the spawn. Especially the younglings, they’re still so unpredictable.” his eyes held a sad look. He would never admit it, but he missed your companions too, even Gale. But he knew what he signed up for when he released them. He kept balance between he spawn and the Underdark’s natural inhibitors; drow, myconids, duergar, etc.

You let out a small sigh, “Only a few days, I swear it.” you kissed him, thumbing over his cheek as you held his face.

He leaned his forehead against yours, “I know, you can’t live without me.” he said with a smirk but you could hear it in his voice. The waver that held uncertainty. He knew you loved him, but it is so easy to leave and never return.

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You opened a portal early in the morning. You left Astarion a jar of your blood on the kitchen table along with a little love note. He knew you were leaving early, giving you a small kiss before he watched you go.

The sun was blinding and took your eyes several minutes to adjust. The soft glow of the Underdark didn’t compare to the ball of fire in the sky. It almost felt oppressive. However - feeling the warmth on your skin, the wind in your hair, the smell of the grass. Gods how you missed it all. You ran your hands through the tall grass as you walked towards Gale’s tower you saw off in the distance.

He captured you in a bone crushing hug as soon as he saw you. “Y/N! My dear friend, how I’ve missed you.” he said fondly. “Come, come! Everyone is inside!”

As promised everyone was inside, even Lae’zel. You hugged them all, holding each of them a little longer than normal. God’s you missed them all. Everyone looked just the same, a few new scars and wrinkles here and there, but the same. Gale had managed to pull something off similar to you, ingesting dark fire to keep his soul bound to this plane of existence thus his body remained as well.

“No Astarion?” Karlach asked with sadness evident in her voice.

Your friends all looked at you sympathetically, “The spawn… they need him. And the sun… tends to be an issue.” you said with a slight laugh, trying not to bring the mood down.

“Did you never find the Sunwalker’s ring?” Shadowheart asked.

“Our leads stopped years ago… we made a home in the Underdark. It’s not so bad, we never get sunburned.” you shrugged with a lopsided smile.

Your friends nodded, quickly changing the subject as they noticed your mood dropping. You talked, drank, ate, and laughed. It felt identical to when you traveled together, regaling each other with new and old stories. Eventually though, bedrolls called to everyone.

You looked out the window of Gale’s tower. You had almost forgotten about the moon. You felt a pang in your chest, you missed your husband. You twisted your wedding band around your finger, trying to feel close to him in the dark.

Gale walked up to you slowly “Missing someone?” he said as he passed you a chalice of wine.

You smiled softly, “You only get one great love in life… it hurts to be away from him.” you said looking into the deep red of the wine.

Gale nodded in understanding. “If I may, I might know of another way.”

“Way for what?” you said with a confused look.

“A way for Astarion to walk in the sun again.” he said, his eyes shining with hope.

Your eyes widened, “Go on…” you said.

“In Avernus, there is something called “The Eternal Pit "; it is a hellish void. A portal really. To a realm of the unknown, but if you survive it, those who have returned alway return with their hearts desire.” Gale said with excitement.

“I’ll do it.” you said immediately, “Now, we go now.” you said as you jumped down from the ledge of the window. You rushed to Karlach’s room, knocking lightly before you rushed in. She laid on her bed, resting but her eyes met yours as soon as the door opened.

“Hello?” she said with confusion on her face.

“I need you to take me to The Eternal Pit.” you said quickly.

Her face was dripping with shock. “I’m sorry, what? You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” You said sitting on the bed next to her. “Please, it’s the only way Astarion can walk in the sun again. He deserves it, Karlach.” you begged, your eyes becoming glassy. Your lover deserved the world, and you’d do anything to give it to him.

She sighed, her eyes searching yours. “I have a feeling you’ll go with or without me… fine.” she sighed.

She started to put her armor on. You dawned your mage armor along with your simple chain mail. “After you.” she said, opening the portal back to Avernus.

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“As requested, The Eternal Pit.” Karlach said, cringing as she looked into the swirling black void in the center of the burning, abandoned monastery.

Your gaze never broke from it, “If I don’t return…”

“Don’t” she said sternly.

“If I don’t… tell Astarion I’m sorry for leaving him alone… I just wanted to give him everything he deserved. And that I love him more than he could ever know.” you finished your sentence before letting yourself fall forward into the pit.

Heat enveloped you, thick and sticky like tar. It felt fluid and yet molten at the same time. You walked through a sea of nothingness, just emptiness for what felt like ever before you arrived at a shimmering mirror. You gazed at yourself, skin melted, bone showing. You touched the shimmering surface of it before you were thrown backwards. A devil slowly made her way out of the mirror. Her imposing figure looming above yours.

“What dost thou want?” her voice echoed in a sinister whisper throughout the void yet her lips never moved.

“The Sunwalker’s ring.” you stuttered out as you lay in the blackened tar like fluid.

“Why?” she asked.

“My lover needs it.” you said simply, not wanting to overshare in case the devil was trying to form some sort of trick.

“What whilst thou sacrifice?” she asked, outstretching her hand.

You thought hard. What could you give of equal value? “Take whatever you wish, just not my soul or immortality.”

The devil smiled, “You’re brave. What are you willing to endure for this boon?”

“Anything.” you said. Suddenly you felt all your skin peeling off. Your nails being removed one by one.

“Pain is your price. If you say stop, your soul stays with me.” she smiled wickedly.

The pain was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Searing. Melting. Evil. You writhe about, feeling every part of you be ripped apart just to be put back together and torn apart once again. You screamed and cried but never said stop. You remember everything fading, slipping deeper into the tar like water before you felt… nothing. There was an absence of everything in this abyss.

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Astarion rushed through the halls of Gale’s tower, not caring if the sun scorched his skin every time he walked past a window. He made it to the laboratory in the basement. He stopped when he saw your body resting on a gurney.

He rushed to you, “What happened?!” he yelled, demanding to know.

You had been missing for three days before you reappeared in Waterdeep. Fainting as soon as you materialized, Gale kept you in the laboratory. He watched your vitals day and night, Karlach blaming herself for taking you despite knowing your stubborn heart would have gone no matter what.

“OUT! Both of you get out!” he screamed. Feverish tears rushed down his cheeks as soon as he knew he was alone. He held your limp hand, kissing over your face “Wake up, please… you promised…” he held your forehead to his. His sobs wracked him, he kept his head on your chest for hours, listening to the only sign of your life. Your heart beat was weak but steady. He didn’t meditate for days.

“Astarion…” Karlach said as she entered. She left a cup of fresh blood next to him. “They… I know their heart and mind was filled with only you when they stepped into that pit.” she patted his shoulder.

He didn’t move, he was practically catatonic. They had told him what happened. Why you went. Your last words. Everything. He couldn’t be without you so this is where he would stay until he too faded into nothing.

Astarion was sure he hallucinated it, a twitch of your eyebrow. Then your finger. He saw your eyes shifting beneath your lids. His head shot up despite the dizziness he felt due to lack of feeding. “Little love?” he whispered.

You shot up bolt right, leaning off to the side to throw up black liquid that scorched the stone flooring. After coughing and gagging for a solid minute you regained your sight a bit, “Astarion?” you mumbled, unsure if he was really there or if this was a fever dream.

“Darling?” he said, kissing over your face.

You sunk back down feeling weak.

“GALE!” Astarion let out a booming yell which had the wizard running in. As soon as he saw you were awake he rushed a bottle of antidote and superior healing to your lips. Color returned to your face quickly.

“Don’t ever do that shit again.” Astarion said with a watery tone.

“I know, you can’t live without me.” you mumbled with a smirk as your shaky hand reached for his face, cupping his cheek.

Astarion let out a shaky laugh before he kissed you. The healing potion tingled against his lips but didn’t distract him enough to feel a warm sensation slide up his ring finger. He begrudgingly pulled away to look at the cause. A golden band with a golden gem softly glowing.

His eyes widened, “How did you…”

You softly smiled at him dragging him back into a kiss. “Let’s go home.” you whispered against his lips as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“No…” he shook his head, “My brothers and sisters will manage without me. We’ve lived in the shadows long enough. Let’s make a new home.” he said.

You nodded quickly, pulling him into a crushing kiss as you pressed him close to you. He held you tightly, responding with just as much urgency and passion. “I love you.” he said.

You kissed him over and over, “I love you. Now, Sunwalker, let’s go make a home for ourselves.”

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Naboo's Note:

Hello all! This was based off a request so thank you for sending that in. This was awesome to write! Had a lot of fun with it, got the creative juices flowing. I hope everyone is well. I work an overnight tomorrow so expect another fic to be out soon! Thanks for everything!!! TTYLXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!!!!

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lalacliffthorne · 9 months

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💜 starshine pt. III 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

notes: literally no summary possible without intense spoilers. you´ll probably be able to guess what this chapter entails by just like the first few sentences (btw, it's been ages since I read the books, so I'm working on a lot of creative freedom with this one lol). fair warning: this one's angsty. like I already mentioned, it's also insanely long. so. have fun? I guess?

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Slipping through the wards felt like a tingle of ice on my skin. My breath hitched, and for a second, I expected the mountain to cave in on me, squash me as it realized someone had breached the magic binding so many to its halls.

But nothing happened.

The servant fae's dress slipped up my thighs when I slid into the dark corridors. I had caught her when she had lingered too close to the wards, golden whisps of magic seeping through the bounds and engulfing her, catching her when she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. I had swapped our clothes before hiding her floating body behind a glamour and slipping into the dark mountain.

Something closed around my throat lightly as I moved through the shadows, stilling every time I heard a sound.

Fifty years.

Fifty years of chipping away at the wards guarding the mountain, little by little so no one would notice the small growing hole in the thickly woven magic. Fifty years of trying to be everywhere at once, moving through the courts, healing those in need before slipping away before anyone could notice. Fifty years of faeries slaughtered in numbers becoming bigger and bigger, causing rage to grow slowly in my chest.

Fifty years of dreaming of violet eyes like night skies.

I remembered the day Amarantha had caught them all like it was yesterday.

I had been staying in the Day Court, and from one second to the next, the warm summer night had turned ice cold. A darkness had placed itself over the world, the faeries in the garden had disappeared and the glow of the flowers had dimmed. An icy shiver had run down my spine, and like instinct, I had reached out for Rhys, for that familiar feeling that was always not far from the bounds of my mind, the sharp claws that tickled my soul before the deep, rich voice echoed through my head, even when their owner was on the other side of Prythian.

But there had been nothing. No presence, not even when I had called out to him. Instead, there was a harsh wall, like something, or someone, was blocking him.

I had started looking for him the day after.

☆

Following the halls deeper into the mountain, I simply listened to the tug in my chest that pulled me forward, guiding me towards the hum of power. My own responded, slithering angrily under my skin, and I pushed it down, barricading it behind walls as high as the sky.

I had learned to hide the thrum of power flooding through me a long time ago. It was what kept me hidden in the courts, allowed me to exist without anyone bothering me.

Strangely enough, it had never kept Rhys from finding me, like even the way my powers were hidden was distinct enough for him to track me down. When I had brought it up once, he had just grinned so widely, his cheeks had creased as he replied: “Starshine, I would be able to find you on nothing but instinct even if you were galaxies away.”

Back then, it had made something skip softly against my ribs as I had thrown a pillow at his head.

Now, just the memory of his voice caused a strange ache in my chest.

Amarantha had taken Rhys away from his family, his home. And I was sure that the only reason he was playing her game, bowing to her, was to protect them.

If there was one thing I had learned about him in the past century, it was that his friends, his family and his home were everything to him. And that he would do anything to keep them safe.

Even give himself up.

The tight feeling in my chest shifted, like for a second, something scratched the surface, a familiar presence growing closer, and I breathed out soundlessly.

There was no way I was going to let her break him.

Not him.

☆

The whispers from Under the Mountain had been vague, but with time, they had started to paint a picture, blurred and hazy, but clear enough to know that Amarantha had a fable for lavish nights with wine and entertainment.

I had expected that entertainment to be cruel. I had spent the last fifty years trying to protect the faeries, for Amarantha seemed to have developed a taste for keeping them like animals, all while hearing rumors about the Fae trapped Under the Mountain, forced to bow to her will.

But what was awaiting me when I slipped through the doors into the huge cavernous hall, the stench of spirits hitting me and the air pressed from my lungs – was so much worse.

There were Fae everywhere, dressed in a way that left little to the imagination. Their gazes ranged from empty to forcingly amused to petrified, but their bodies moved like they were in a trance, not their own will causing them to dance, grind on each other and do more, in plain sight for all to see.

It felt like a sick, twisted stage play, orchestrated for nothing but the embarassement and torture of the courts and one single person's amusement, one person who loomed on a dais at the back wall, sitting on a throne, dressed from head to toe in blood red.

My eyes zeroed in, and my powers surged against the walls caging them in.

Amarantha had tipped her head to the side, her golden crown glittering in the light of the torches as she watched the spectacle at the foot of the dais. Her red hair flowed over her shoulders, her long nails tapping against the armrests. There was a light amused curve to her lips, but her eyes were cold and calculating.

Somehow reigning in the magic raging under my skin, I pressed my lips together and followed her piercing gaze, down to the steps leading up to the dais -

The wind got knocked out of my lungs.

The noises, the hall around me faded as something pulsed slowly against my ribs, my heart beating like the wings of a butterfly caught in time, trying to escape from my chest as my gaze narrowed in until it was centered on the male at the foot of the dais, a picture of lazy feline confidence so familiar, I had to fight for air.

Rhys.

Suddenly, fifty years caught up with me. Fifty years of his face burned into my mind, his smile and the way his violet eyes twinkled like a glittering night sky.

Only it was gone now. The spark in his iris, the vibrancy of his eyes. His dark hair, though still impeccably styled, had lost its shine, his sunkissed skin was pale and sallow, and his smile –

Something tightened so harshly in my chest, I held my breath.

Gone was the cheeky curve of his lips, the mischievous turn of his grin and that stupidly beautiful smile. It had been replaced by a light smirk, one that was cold and cruel and –

Didn't reach his eyes.

His smile had always reached his eyes. Even when it promised violence and bloodshed and broken bones, it always translated to the way his eyes looked, to the spark in his iris, angry or furious.

Only it didn't anymore.

I tried to swallow, fight against the way something closed around my throat when I stared at Rhys and his eyes, dull and unmoving as he gazed down onto the heap at his feet, a heap -

My breath stilled, and the grip around my throat changed to vice.

It was a sprite boy. A moonwing, with feathery white hair caked with dirt, milky pale skin torn and bloody over too-thin limbs, and his wings –

His wings.

A sound built at the bottom of my throat, a strangled whimper that was swallowed by the harsh noises around me. Something clawed at my chest, a pain so heavy I almost went to my knees as I stared at what used to be thin-as-lace wings, their white membranes hanging in bloody shreds over a whipmarked back.

Quickly clamping a shaking hand over my mouth to smother the heaving sob breaking from my throat, I almost sank into the wall, my body beginning to shake. I felt something hot run over my cheek as I stared at the faerie, swaying as he tried to get to his feet without the support of his wings. His pain was mine, his despair gripping me like an iron fist, my breath trembling as my vision blurred and I whimpered.

No.

Rhysand stilled. I could see his shoulders shift. Then his head rose, eyes tearing away from the moonwing to swiftly move over the crowd, and for nothing more than a second, a fraction of a heartbeat, something flashed through his eyes, something that was buried so deep, it was nearly impossible to make out.

Like somehow, he felt my anguish, could sense a presence in the crowd that didn't belong -

The guards at the edge of the dais moved, and Rhys blinked. Then his eyes moved away from the crowd, and his back straightened when a male stepped forward, staring hungrily at the moonwing.

There was a bloody whip hanging from his hand.

My heart tightened, lips parting as nausea washed over me like a tidal wave.

But before the male could take another step, Rhys moved. His motions were quick and smooth as always when he took a step forward and picked the moonwing up by his neck, and I could see the fairie's iridescent eyes flaring with panic as he started to struggle.

Then Rhys' hand closed around his jaw.

My heart stopped and my breath stilled when the crack of bones snapping whipped through the hall.

The moonwing's body went limp, head rolling to the side.

A muscle in Rhys' cheek twitched, his face unmoving as he let the faerie slip to the ground and raised his head, turning around. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the moonwing's lifeless body as the other male moved towards him with a scowl, gripping one of the fairie's shredded wings before he turned to drag him away from the dais and into the shadows, leaving behind a pool of blood on the stone floor.

Something hot streamed over my cheeks as I fought to breathe, and magic started to push against my skin, slowly growing until I had to keep all my focus on keeping it subdued.

My eyes rose, and a cold fist closed around my heart when Rhys sat down next to Amarantha. Her hand drifted towards him, her fingernails dragging lightly over his skin, and I could see the second his eyes clouded over like he had dragged up walls, high, high, higher as Amarantha whispered something with a smile like a viper.

Rhysand nodded once, eyes trained onto the crowd like it could hide the way his shoulders shifted like his body fought to move away.

It was all I needed to straighten my spine and breathe, something beginning to burn under my skin.

☆

I had slinked into the shadows when Amarantha had risen from her throne, Rhys following suit, though there was something in the way his eyes seemed to dull even more when he moved after her.

I lost them in the maze of halls a few times, but something, like a small tug in my chest, kept pulling me back onto the right path, like the golden whisps of magic swirling under my skin had latched onto Rhys, guiding me.

Slipping around a corner, I just caught a glimpse at a door closing. Waiting for a few moments, just to make sure, I slowly started to move, avoiding lanterns and melting into the shadows as I soundlessly slid down the hall until I could disappear into the alcoven right next to the door.

Pressing my back against the cold stone walls, I leaned my temple against the wall and focused on the noises slipping from the room.

For a second, my mind was slow, struggling to place the muffled sounds that seemed to be a female's, harsh and strangely drawn –

My heart stilled.

I could feel my breath, ragged as I stared at the wall ahead, something suddenly filling my throat like the urge to be sick, to stagger away from that door and what was behind it.

I was already half pushing away from the wall when the wave of emotion hit me like a brick. Like someone inside that room had slipped up, had lost control of what kept their feelings locked deep, deep down, because what they were doing right now was a struggle in itself, a struggle like having a hand around your throat that kept you from breathing.

I didn't know how I knew it was him. I just knew that the way his emotions vibrated under my skin, causing my knees to give out and my body to silently slide down the wall to collapse to the ground as I fought for air, was uniquely his.

Rhys was drowning.

I could feel it, feel the way his sense of self and his will to fight dwindled like they were slowly dragged under water. Overrun and fought to their knees by pain.

Pain that felt like ghostly fingernails running over his skin, like actions that broke apart pieces of him and caused guilt to drown him without his limbs fighting.

It was humiliation, and repulsion, and numbness. And fear.

Fear, so overwhelming and all-consuming, it wrapped around my throat like a rope, pulling tighter and tighter as I crouched frozen at the wall, tears streaming down my cheeks and something in my chest shattering silently as I squeezed my eyes shut.

I didn't know how I long I was sitting in the shadows, nor could I place the moment when Rhys' emotions slipped away like he had found the gap in his armor and patched it back up. But the remnants of them still clung to my chest, joining into a heaviness when I could hear movements behind the door.

Quickly and with shaking hands, I pulled myself to my feet, slipping back down the hall and into the shadows at the corner to the next, tear tracks cool against my cheeks when I watched the door open.

My heart stilled as I watched Amarantha appear in the hall, slipping her dress over her legs with a satisfied smile.

Something started swirling under my skin, growing with every second. Power, golden light that raged like fire, roaring and threatening to break free, to unleash and make the mountain collapse into itself as golden light wrapped around Amarantha's throat –

Swallowing, I forced it down with trembling hands.

Not like this.

It had taken years to gather enough information, barely any whispers trickling out of the mountain. Years to figure out that she had the High Lords under her control, chained to the mountain, all while her guards wreaked havoc on the lands outside. Courts withering, faeries dying.

The children from Winter had been the last straw.

I had to find a way to free the High Lords, get back their powers. Attacking Amarantha would just risk something happening to those caught down here, or outside.

Sinking back into the shadows, I watched Amarantha disappear into the other direction. I waited until she was gone, waited some more, just to make sure. Then I slipped down the hall.

The door creaked a little when I pushed it open, and cringing lightly, I hastily slipped through, closing it behind me carefully before raising my head, and my heart skyrocketed.

Rhys was standing at the opposite wall, his bare back towards me and shoulders shifting as he tensed, going rigid. He didn't turn around when he mumbled: “Anything else?”

His deep voice took away my breath, something tightening harshly in my chest at it's roughness.

He sounded defeated.

His name tumbled from my lips before I could stop it, quiet and hoarse and a little shaky.

“Rhys.”

He froze.

I watched as his shoulders straightened. He looked like he was holding his breath, his hands closing so tightly around the shirt in his hands, his knuckles turned white as he stared at the wall ahead, and for a second, I thought I could see a tremble run over his spine.

I took a step forward, whispering: “Rhys?”

His head turned ever so slightly, like he was forcing himself not to turn around but couldn't fully control his body, and I saw the moment he caught onto my scent.

His nose flared, and his limbs went utterly and fully still, like for a second, he even stopped breathing. Then he looked over his shoulder, and I stared at him, felt something surge high in my chest when his gaze found mine.

Rhys blinked, and my bottom lip trembled when his eyes became glossy, one corner of his lips curving slowly. Then he whispered, rough voice broken: “You're not real.”

My heart clenched violently, and I swallowed, staring at him through the haze of pain. Then I moved towards him, slowly but steadily, and I could feel Rhys fight the closer I got, like the instinct to reach out and the fear of reaching right through me were battling in his chest.

Halting a few inches away, stopping to keep myself from moving even though every part of me screamed at me to get closer, I swallowed before carefully reaching out a hand.

When my fingers brushed over his arm, something rippled through Rhys' body. His eyes snapped up from where he had watched my hand almost fearfully, flying to meet mine as his glossed over ones grew wide and his lips parted.

I sniffled, nose crunching as I sent him a smile, wobbly and uneven.

“Not getting rid off me that easily, remember?”, I whispered, and Rhys' hand closed around my wrist to yank me forward, into his arms.

My heart stopped when my chest collided with his.

It felt like I was thrown into one of the dreams that had haunted me for fifty years, dreams in which he'd been there, had grinned at me and teased me and been his gloriously annoying self, dreams I had woken from with a weight on my chest pressing me down, because I could feel the memory of his presence slip through my fingers.

Only now, I didn't wake up, and there was no pressing knowledge somewhere buried in the depth of my mind that it was nothing but a dream.

No, Rhys was there, tall and solid as he wrapped himself around me, clinging to me like I could be ripped away from him any second, and my breath hitched when I could feel the way his body started to tremble.

Something small in my chest shattered silently, and barely suppressing a soft whimper as pressure rose in my throat, I hastily wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held onto him. Held onto him, his skin cool under my mine, muscles taut as a bowstring when my fingers dug into the back of his shoulders and I clung to him, and Rhys laughed, wet and desperate and causing my chest to tighten so harshly, I hiccuped. His hands grabbed at my back, my dress, one finding its way into my hair, and I fought the heavy weight on my chest and the way my voice thickened when I whispered: “Hello.”

Rhys whimpered, his trembling fingers tightening their hold like he tried to drag me closer, like I wasn't already pressed into his chest, his breath shaking like the rest of him when he buried his face in the crook of my neck, and I could feel the second his walls broke. His chest started heaving, and something warm and wet pooled on my skin.

“It's okay.” I squeezed my eyes shut as I held onto him, feeling tears roll over my cheek as the ache in my chest spread, and my voice broke a little when I whispered: “I'm real.”

A shaking sob broke from Rhys' throat, and his fingers dug into my skin when he breathed out with a shudder that shook his body. Then he pulled back, nose pressing into my hair for a second, and when I raised my head, his hand slipped up to curl around the back of my neck, and Rhys pressed his forehead against mine. His quick, unsteady breaths made my heart skip, and I forced open my eyes, staring at him and his scrunched eyebrows and the tears silently rolling over his cheeks as he fought for air.

Quickly, I slid my hands down to press them against his sides, feeling my voice crack a little when I whispered: “Breathe.”

Rhys' eyes flew open, and the world staggered when his violet iris met mine, shimmering with tears and everything shining through them, like a dam inside of him had broken. He stared at me like I was the night sky he hadn't seen for fifty years, his fingers curling into my hair.

His eyes tracked the dried tears on my cheeks, and then his body went awfully still.

For a second, Rhys gazed down at me, his throat working as he swallowed harshly and his grip slackened a little. His eyes flickered over mine, and his voice, rough and fragile, broke a little when he mumbled: “How long have you been outside?”

I tried to breathe against the heaviness in my chest as I stared up at him, losing the fight against the way my throat closed as my vision blurred and my bottom lip wobbled.

My silence was answer enough.

Rhys' fingers twitched, and I could feel him freeze, pulling back, but I dug my fingers into his bare skin and swallowed harshly, a tear running over my cheek when I whispered, voice shaking: “I'm going to kill her.”

Rhys' eyes followed the tear, widening slightly, and suddenly, he looked panicked.

“You have to leave.”

“Rhys –“

“You have to get out of here, if she finds you with me –“ His breath quickened, his wide eyes causing something to squeeze my heart harshly.

In over a hundred years, I had never seen him like this, so utterly and completely afraid; fear, sheer frantic panic rolling off him in waves, completely ungarded -

“Indeed.”

I could feel the way Rhys froze under my hands when my eyes flew over to the door.

Could feel the wave of his unbridled dread crash over me when the female in the door smiled, her eyes flashing and blood-red hair glimmering in the candle light.

“Now look at that…”

☆

My knees dragged over the stone floors as the guards hauled me into the great, cavernous hall, Amarantha sauntering after us, Rhys behind her as he struggled against the males containing him, his teeth bared even as I could feel, smell the panic rolling off of him.

I tried to reach him, but the powers raging under my skin were slowly slipping out of my control, roaring at the way I could feel him struggle.

“Drop her.” Amarantha waved her hand casually, raising her brows as the guards dumped me to the ground in the middle of the hall and turning towards Rhys.

“You know, I really thought you'd have better taste.” Her tone was mocking, her smile amused. “A servant… and a faerie no less.”

Rhys fought against the guards holding him, but I could see the way his movements were restrained, like she was containing him. He looked like he was vibrating with unbridled fury, but there was something burning under the surface as I forced myself to my feet, something that made my heart tighten harshly.

Amarantha tutted softly, smiling widely. Her eyes raked over Rhys' face, and they sharpened. Then she raised a brow.

“Oh.”

Something skipped high and harsh against my ribs, and one corner of her lips quirked.

“Now that's interesting. Is it possible…” She tipped her head to the side, and Rhys grew rigid.

“You care for her. Oh now, now.” Amarantha laughed, and it rung through the air. “How quaint.” She smiled widely, and it sent a shiver down my spine as her eyes danced.

“The mighty High Lord and the faerie. I wonder…” Sauntering towards me, she reached out, her nails lightly raking over my jaw to tip it up, and I hissed at her, causing her to chuckle.

“Well, she is feisty. Still.” Her head tipped to the side, considering me like prized piece of cattle, and Rhys' struggle grew as she slowly started to smile and raised her brows mildly as she turned to look at him.

“I think you need a reminder who you belong to.”

Moving back, she lightly dipped her head, and someone kicked the back of my legs, causing them to buckle.

Sharp pain shot through my knees when I crashed to the floor, and I could feel my dress shift. Then rough hands pushed me forward and the fabric was ripped open, slipping down my back.

My heart skipped high into my throat, and I tried to reach out on instinct to cover myself, but my wrists were seized, forced away from my body.

I could hear the sound of a struggle, and when my eyes rose, Rhys was trying to tear himself away from the guards holding him, a terrifying snarl on his face. But Amarantha just smiled and placed a finger on her lips.

Iron shackles closed around my wrists, dragging my arms apart until I was kneeling, and my fingers started shaking as I tried to contain the magic brimming under the surface, the golden light trying to break out to rage around me. I forced up my head, and Amarantha raised a brow.

There was movement at the corner of my eye. Then something struck my back with such force, my body was thrown forward.

Burning pain seared over my skin, and a scream forced its way from my throat.

My back arched, trying to twist away, pain pulsing through my body and leaving my muscles trembling, and Rhys roared.

With one mighty rip, he broke away from the guards trying to contain him, but before he could make it even a few feet, Amarantha struck, and Rhys crumbled to the ground.

“No!” I struggled against the iron chains, magic surging under my skin as pressure build behind my eyes and an angry sound ripped from my throat.

“How precious.” Amarantha sounded bored and a little disdainful, waving her hand as she turned away, and two guards grabbed Rhys' arms, dragging him up until he was kneeling, forcing his head up.

He was bleeding, his brow cut, but it was nothing compared to the anguish in his eyes as they found mine, wild and desperate.

Fighting against the tug in my chest, I squeezed my burning eyes shut for a second before opening them again, staring at him as my body trembled.

“I,”, my voice broke with strain, “can take it.”

Amarantha chuckled. “Oh dear.”

Another hit struck my back, the whip slashing the air and through my skin, and a low scream tore from my throat. Tears brimmed at the corner of my eyes, my breath trembling at the pain pulsing through my back and into my body, and from holding onto the whirling storm in my chest.

“I doubt it.” Amarantha's eyes were glimmering with wicked delight, and as the next lash hit my back, I forced my head up, my body shaking as I gritted my teeth and fought the tears pooling from my eyes as they found the male behind her.

My heart stilled.

Went silent in my chest at the way he stared at me, head pulled back by his hair as the guards forced him to watch, his eyes wide, body rigid like he was gripped in an iron fist. There was something swirling in his gaze, not just anguish; pure torment, and intertwined with it was something else, something that reached so deep, I lost my breath.

No more.

The words seemed to whisper through my mind, through the fog and the pain, growing stronger as the air around me started to flimmer.

No more.

My eyes pierced into Rhys', a tremble going through my body. Then something settled in my chest.

No more.

Golden light bloomed around me as I let go. Allowed the whispers of magic to swarm me, flittering over my back, their whispering touch gentle, and I could feel the wounds close, leaving nothing behind but even skin.

The hum seemed to grow still, until I could feel the power in every inch of my body, pulsing and whirling, and Amarantha's voice reached me, sharp as she called to her guards: “Stop her, now -“

A wave of golden light erupted from my body.

Amarantha and the guards holding me got ripped off their feet, flung through the air, the males crashing into the walls as Amarantha slammed into the steps of the dais.

And as the ground started to tremble, the mountain itself rumbling like thunder, the shackles fell of my wrists and I pushed myself to my feet, golden swirls of magic building around me like a hurricane as rage carried me.

The doors flew open as guards streamed in, dozens and dozens more, barking orders as they took position and advanced, and power surged through my body.

The ground shook, then thick vines bursted from the stone floors. They slithered through the air, wrapping themselves around the guards and flinging them through the room, wrapping them up tight and engulfing them, their screams drowned as they turned into giant trees. Weapons turned into slithering branches, closing around their owner's arms and throats, armor grew green moss like treebark as I dodged a sword blow in a swift movement. Arrows flying at me turned into bursts of petals as I dove and slipped the guard's sword out of his hand, slashing it over his throat in one precise movement, and another wave of magic pulsed through my body, sending a wave that tore the remaining guards off their feet, swords and armor clattering when they crashed into the walls and onto the floors.

Raising my head, I felt the light around me flimmer, illuminating the sword in my hand for another moment as I slowly straightened, power surging through my body as the golden whisps began to disperse and I felt my breath again, quick and heavy. Something flickered in my chest when my gaze darted over the throne room, trees growing from stone floors, their branches stretching high up the cavernous ceiling, petals drifting over the ground and unconcious guards strewn across the floor.

The rage in my chest slowly washed away, a deep exhale leaving me, and looking over my shoulder, I felt something rise in my chest.

Rhys was still kneeling on the ground, having caught himself as the guards holding him had been torn across the room. His eyes were wide as his gaze darted over the hall, then they found mine, and something skipped so harshly into my throat, I lost my breath.

Rhys was staring at me like I had ripped open the mountain to show him the stars.

Something rose in my chest, fluttering like a hurricane, and turning around, I quickly stepped over a guard's legs and held out a hand, pulling him to his feet.

Slowly straightening, Rhys stared down at me, and his eyes began to shine in a way that made my breath catch.

There was a light flash of silver from the corner of my eye. I turned my head, and for a moment, time slowed.

Without thinking, I moved, the sword slipping from my hand and clattering to the ground as my fingers closed around Rhys' elbows and dragged him with me as I turned, turned until he was facing the dais and I was in the way, the way of –

Sharp pain struck my back.

I could feel my eyes widen, how time staggered just like my heart when hot, all consuming pain slowly spread from a point somewhere right beneath my shoulder blades. Then my eyes found Rhys', and the way he stared at me, his eyes growing wide, made time fall back into place.

My knees toppled lightly when pain crashed over me like a tidal wave, and Rhys dove forward to catch me. His pupils were blown wide as a wave of panic washed over me that wasn't my own, terrifying and mindnumbing as his hands frantically moved over my body, gripping my hips, pushing up my chin.

The pulsing pain from my back seemed to slowly consume my body, and my heart stuttered.

“No.” Rhys' voice ripped its on wound through my chest, disbelieving, hollow and horrified. His eyes darted over my face, all the color draining from his features, but he looked a bit blurred, like he was drifting away from me. I tried to grab at his chest, my movements strangely slow.

“Go.” My voice sounded strained to my own ears, but I forced myself to focus on Rhys' face, trying to fight past the pain the look on his face caused in my chest. His brows twitched as his eyes, panicked and frantic, darted over my face, and I pressed: “Get. Her.”

Rhys stared at me. Then something shifted in his eyes, beginning to glow, and his head rose, a terrifying growl rumbling from his chest.

“You.”

His hands slipped away from my arms and I could feel him move past me, something skipping high in my chest as I staggered lightly, dropping to my knees.

Forcing myself to straighten, I tried to suppress a whimper when I reached my hand up my back, twisting and feeling a rough sound built in my throat at the pain the movement sent cursing through my body.

My fingers slipped over something cold, and with a pressed sound, I pulled the blade out of my body. It clattered onto the stone, and the floor swayed under my knees when for a second, all I could see were black spots dancing before my eyes as something hot ran over my pulsing back.

Behind me, I heard the sound of fighting, snarls that made the hairs at the back of my neck rise, and I forced my head up to look over my shoulder. My vision swam, and my breath stilled when I heard the sound of a body hitting the ground heavily, heart rising into my throat as my eyes focused.

Rhys was kneeling on the ground before Amarantha, a sword pressed against the back of his neck as she snarled at him, hands curled into his hair, forcing his head back. I could see the fight in the strain in his shoulders, like he was battling her in his mind, but his body was trembling.

“Oh, I do like you on your knees.” Amarantha bared her teeth, and something shifted in my chest, blooming into a soundless roar as I pushed myself to my feet.

My fingers closed around the hilt of the sword I had dropped, the heavy blade beginning to glow in my grip, and Amarantha raised her head and scoffed.

“Don't be ridiculous.” She snarled as she stepped away, Rhys caught frozen, limbs trembling in a vain effort to free himself. “I posses the powers of all the High Lords of Prythian. No iron, no steel can defeat me, not even your powers. I have killed Fae for centuries.” Her eyes flickered over me, her lips curling. “You're no match for me, little faerie.”

Golden whisps of magic began to rise around me, the branches of the trees growing out of the stone rustling with a harsh wind, the vines creaking as they slithered, bowing into my direction as I walked towards Amarantha, magic beginning to grow under my skin until I could feel it glow.

I deflected the first blow of Amarantha's sword as it came crashing down, the force making the mountain rumble. Then I swerved to the right, blade slashing through the air as the space around us started to vibrate with power and my sword began to shine brighter and brighter.

“Give up!” Amarantha's voice shook the hall like thunder. “You'll never defeat me, you're a faerie, you'll just -”

My heart rose, and the mountain sang.

When my next blow came crashing down, it splintered Amarantha's sword in two with a blast of golden power. She dropped the useless hilt, eyes growing wide as her head whipped up, and my sword sank into her chest, deeper and deeper until we were face to face.

"I'm not just any faerie,”, I whispered.

A surge of power rippled through the air when I pulled the sword from Amarantha's chest, and I could feel the wards trembling. Then they shattered, the whole mountain groaning as I whirled around and swung the sword, the blade whizzing through the air and cleanly cutting off Amarantha's head.

Blood spattered, and with a thud, the female's lifeless body dropped to the ground.

Breathing heavily, I straightened, and my sword clattered as it hit the floor. The golden shimmer around me pulled back into my body, and suddenly, the world tilted.

My knees gave out, and I would have crashed down the steps if I hadn't been caught, arms wrapping around me and a familiar scent washing over me, causing my heart to jump weakly against my ribs.

I thought I heard a voice, deep and familiar and utterly panicked, calling my name as a warm hand closed around the side of my face, shaking me. But my lids were suddenly heavy, blinking becoming harder with the second. My body felt a bit like it was beginning to float; no more pain, only a strange, calm feeling, my limbs too heavy to move.

Through the fog, I heard the voice, thick and trembling, words not quite reaching me. Then something warm pressed against my temple, nudging my cheek.

“Stay with me.”

☆

Stay with me.

My eyes opened with a flutter, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

My gaze was blurry at first, but I thought I saw a high ceiling, far above me, the branches of trees, and felt arms holding me, propping me up against a warm, solid body that suddenly grew rigid.

Blinking, I breathed out before letting my head slowly roll to the side, and my eyes met another pair.

My heart skipped softly against my ribs at the sight of violet, mixed with starlight in eyes gleaming with tears, widening when they found mine as their owner became completely still.

I blinked, feeling slowly seeping back into my body, and a small sound broke from the back of my throat.

“Ow,”, I mumbled softly.

Rhys stared at me. Stared from shimmering eyes that were blown wide, wet tear tracks on his cheeks. His hand cradling my jaw was trembling, and something shifted gently in my chest at the way he seemed to fight for air. Then he blinked, and the tears in his eyes welled as his lips curved and a sobbed laugh left him, deep and shaking my body as Rhys dropped his head, his arms slipping around me until he was clinging to me, holding me to his chest as he pressed his nose against my temple.

I could feel his shuddering exhale, and how tears began to soak my hair, and something rose in my chest, fluttering wildly as it surged and pressure built behind my eyes, my fingers trembling as I curled them into his arm holding me.

Rhys' grip tightened, then he lightly pulled back his head. His hand slipped to rest against the side of my neck, and my breath hitched, stumbling until it stilled when he slowly started to smile at me. Smiled brighter and brighter, wide and radiant until deep creases formed in his cheeks and his violet eyes twinkled like a sky full of stars, and his voice was quiet and a bit hoarse when Rhys whispered thickly: “Hello, starshine.”

☆

Stepping out into the cool morning air, I breathed in deeply, closing my eyes for a second.

My body was still aching a little, my head thrumming, but it was duller now, like it was slowly ebbing away. The magic under my skin was no longer raging and whirling, instead buzzing softly from the healing I had done in the past few hours, Fae and faeries alike.

The wards had come down, the second Amarantha had died. Shortly after, the doors to the hall had burst open, and Rhys had gripped me tighter when all the High Lords had stormed inside, their newly returned powers thrumming just like the one's of the male holding me.

He had reluctantly left me alone, only after several insurances that I was fine and some mild teasing threats, his swagger returning to him as his mask slipped into place as he had joined the High Lords standing over Amarantha's body, her severed head turned towards the ceiling, her eyes staring lifelessly into the air.

Dropping my shoulders and stretching them slowly, my skin tingled gently right under my shoulder blades, and like instinct, I reached back, twisting my arm until I could brush my fingers over the spot where only a few hours ago, a dagger had nearly, maybe taken my life.

The skin was soft there now, and unblemished, as Rhys had showed me with a quick glimpse into my head.

Like there had never been any wound in the first place.

Letting my arm fall back to my side, I breathed out again before turning, and my heart did a soft skip when my gaze landed on the familiar male a bit away, standing on a ledge, head tipped back as he stared up at the sky that was slowly turning from a pale blue into a soft pink.

My heart skipped, and I hesitated for a second, then I carefully stepped onto the big ledge and softly called: “Rhys?”

My quiet voice carried through the cool air, and when he looked over his shoulder, my chest tightened harshly.

Tears were streaming over his face, his eyes shimmering as they reflected the sky, and I moved, darting towards him and stretching to slip my arms around his shoulders.

Rhys breathed out with a shudder, and his hands closed around my waist, pulling me tightly into his chest. Then he turned his head and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel his tears drip onto my skin as soundless sobs left his body trembling, and my heart tightened harshly as my eyes welled.

Quickly pressing my nose against his shoulder, I let his pain wash over me, my chest aching as tears trickled over my cheeks and I buried my fingers in his hair.

By the time Rhys' sobs had faded away and the tears on my shoulder had dried as he just held me, the sun had started to rise on the horizon.

Carefully pulling back a bit, I looked up at him, finding his eyes already on my face, raw with emotion I couldn´t quite decipher.

“Go home,”, I whispered softly, and a shudder went through Rhys' body, his hands tightening their grip around my waist for a moment.

His eyes searched mine, then he blinked.

“Come with me.”

I blinked, feeling my lips part in surprise as I stared up at him. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no doubt, nothing. Just something that looked a bit like a soft, feverish plea.

I blinked, and warmth slowly spread through my body, something closing gently around my throat.

“I can't,”, I mumbled, and Rhys' grip loosened, causing me to quickly curl my fingers into his shirt.

“No, I just,”, I huffed a little, frowning at him, "not yet." Breathing out, I tipped my head to the side and sent him a soft, helpless smile. “There are still so many in there who need my help. And in the courts. I can't just –“

Rhys exhaled, and my heart skipped into my throat when he dropped his head to rest his forehead against mine, his hands gently closing around my waist.

“You're awfully inconsistent, you know that?”, he whispered, and his rough voice sent a soft tingle over my skin. “You claim to not like the High Fae, and yet, you're still helping them.”

“I know.” I gently tapped my finger against his chest. “I mean, I constantly help you, what's that all about?"

Rhys huffed, and I grinned lightly before pulling back and mumbling: “They've suffered enough for a while.”

Rhys blinked, and his eyes moved over my face, something beginning to glow gently in his iris.

“Promise that when you're finished, you'll come to Velaris.”

Staring up at him, I felt my heart flutter genly against my ribs. Then I blinked and slowly smiled, soft and cheeky.

“I promise.”

Rhys' eyes flickered over mine, and something tightened in my chest, my heart skipping when I quickly said: “Promise you'll find me if you need me?”

The male's gaze moved over my face, and slowly, one corner of his lips rose, just the tiniest bit.

“Promise,”, he mumbled, his deep voice sending a soft tingle down my spine, and I breathed out, a weight slipping from my shoulders.

For a second, I stared up at him, then, before I could stop myself, I stretched to press my lips onto his cheek.

Rhys' grip around me tightened, and my heart rose into my throat when I allowed myself to linger for just a second. Then I let myself sink back to the ground, and my breath hitched when Rhys dropped his head like he was trying to follow me.

The male blinked and slowly straightened again, staring down at me, a look in his eyes that made my chest squeeze gently.

Slowly, I took a step backwards, sending him a soft, crooked smile as I lightly poked his ribs.

“Go.” Warmth spread through my chest as I raised my brows. “They've been waiting long enough.”

Rhys exhaled, a weight seeming to slip from his shoulders, and I turned around. I could feel his eyes track me as I made my way back towards the entrance in the mountain.

When I looked back before stepping through, he was gone like the night breeze.

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020

#rhysand #rhys #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand/reader #rhys x reader #rhys imagine #rhys/reader #acotar x reader #acowar #acotar #acomaf #rhysand x female!reader #rhys x female!reader #starshine #lalacliffthorne

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anton-luvr · 5 months

Text

just a random wonbin drabble because i miss my starboy :(

No one talks about how tiring it is to clean up after a party.

Sure, there were always those cliche lines of "Ugh, I hate cleaning." and "This mess is so crazy, I'm going insane."

But there's the exhausting struggle of taking out all the flowers in your vases and emptying the water out into the sink, picking the shiny golden confetti out of the drain with a frown.

Then there's vacuuming the said confetti away while self-conscience gnaws at your heart, feeling guilty from simply using tiny and colorful pieces of plastic that was just to be thrown away afterwards.

But with the way Wonbin smiled at you, it was all worth it.

It was the smile you first set your eyes on at the New Year's party your friend dragged you to, the aura of confidence and attractiveness from the pretty-eyed boy glowing off of his body.

It was the smile you saw when you cracked a joke the next time you met, this time closer as friends after conversations that went on for hours on end.

It was the smile you were graced with when he stepped into your apartment, confetti raining on him as all of his friends and family popped out of their hiding spots and wished him a happy birthday.

It was the smile that you never, ever wanted to stop seeing.

And you didn't have to worry about that.

Because the moment you felt the familiar grasp of Wonbin's arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours as he rests his head on your shoulder, and his soft whisper of "Thank you for the surprise, my love." in your ear, you knew that he was going to be yours forever.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @eun-luv @shawyle @yenart @lycheecheeseyogurt @soul-is-a-strange-kid

#riize #riize fluff #riize drabbles #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize fics #riize wonbin #wonbin riize #wonbin #wonbin x reader

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cloudshuffle · 13 days

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bon appetit. yan!acheron and black swan

Somewhere down the line, Acheron and Black Swan had made an alliance.

It was a strange thing, really, and something no one had ever expected. Even stranger, maybe, was what they formed an alliance over. Or who. Not that you knew about this.

You find yourself seated across from Acheron and Black Swan at a round table, shaded by a funny little umbrella as if the weather ever soured in the Golden Hour. Acheron has her chin in her head. Black Swan selects a menu with an elegant finger.

Both of them are staring into your soul.

At least it sure feels that way. You shift self-consciously in your seat. Acheron might be trying to absorb your cells through the power of her vision. Black Swan... maybe trying to x-ray your wallet and see how much you were carrying. You couldn't really tell - reason enough to avoid that weirdo called Aventurine.

"So, darling, what do you want to have?" Black Swan asks sweetly, resting a hand lightly onto yours. You wriggle out from under it, going to take the menu from her as an excuse.

"Errr." You run a finger quickly down the list. In truth, feeling both women's gazes on you, you can barely breathe let alone make a decision. But at least you've been here often enough to know what you like. "Maybe just a Floatdisc Burger."

"Oh." Black Swan sounds disappointed, somehow. Acheron shifts her gaze away for the first time since you'd sat down.

"I'll go order," Acheron volunteers, to your surprise. She gets up, elegantly concise, and walks off.

You can feel the weight of Black Swan's gaze on you again, and finally you can't stand it anymore. "What are we doing here?"

She seems surprised at the question. "Doing? Why, can't friends hang out and enjoy the view?"

She gestures out at glittering, glowing Penacony. Revellers mill like tiny ants in the streets, their laughter and chatter drifting up to you both.

You swallow down a bitterness in your chest, though you can't pinpoint why.

You'd met Acheron first, wandering the halls of the Reverie, looking clearly lost. She'd frozen upon seeing you, trying - and failing - to pretend that she didn't need any help, but you'd ended up taking her to the lobby anyway. A mysterious figure, certainly, but she'd struck you as kind in some way, and you'd both parted ways amiably.

Then you'd bumped into Black Swan on the street soon after meeting Acheron.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she'd said in that musical voice of hers, reaching out a gentle hand to steady you. With the veil over her head, she looks more like an ethereal angel than an enjoyer of the Golden Hour. But the two of you part ways too with no further incident.

Acheron seeks you out again a few days later - on purpose this time, waiting in the lounge near your suite. This time she isn't lost but she pretends she is, and it's so amusing that you go along with it and take her around Golden Hour to see the sights.

Then you both chance upon Black Swan during your outing, and from then on, you could say, was history.

Acheron returns from the counter. "The food might take a while. It's pretty crowded in there."

She looks from your face, to Black Swan's, your head turned aside and your lips pressed into a thin line. Black Swan blinks innocently at her.

"What? What were you guys talking about?"

#cloud writes #yandere #yandere acheron #yandere black swan #acheron #black swan #hsr #hsr x reader #star rail #honkai star rail #penacony

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cookieeevee · 2 months

Note

what are you iterator ocs designs,, blinks,,

These!

Swirl Of Endless Solstice (Any, likes She/Her)

Midnight Shimmering Stars (She/Her)

Spirits Of Glowing Lanterns (He/Him)

Bubbles Of Joy (Any)

Leafs Of Memories (She/Her)

Golden Soul Strange Glow (He/Him They/Them)

I also have some other ones but I don't have new refs for them rn if you wanna ask me stuff about my iterators then go ahead, my ask box is always open

#ask #silly thing #rain world #swirl of endless solstice #midnight shimmering stars #spirits of glowing lanterns #bubbles of joy #leafs of memories #golden soul strange glow #OC #my doodles #refs #I like adding the reblog like thingy from Cherry

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some-chaos-in-this-rain-world · 11 months

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Any idea why they stopped responding to you SOES?

SOES: Their can could have collapsed, they could just be busy all of a sudden, their comms could be malfunctioning, they could be in danger and-

GSSG: Solstice, calm down.

SOES: But-

GSSG: Please, I don't want you having a panic attack again.

SOES: ... Alright.

#rain world #ask #Swirl Of Endless Solstice #Golden Soul Strange Glow #OC

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myeagleexpert · 2 months

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗

And if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Howl's Moving Castle x Twisted Wonderland Au

The starry night at NRC was a spectacle of beauty and mystery, with the meteor shower painting the sky in shades of silver and gold. Yuu walked through the dark corridors of the Ramshackle dormitory, lit only by the flickering light of candles and a few points of failed electric light. Grim, the talking cat monster with dancing fire flames, followed beside her silently, his yellow eyes glowing with an unusual intensity and worried for his friend.

Today had been one of those days for the young woman without magic: Waking up late and almost late, she was intercepted by Crowley who had given exhaustive work that he himself had not done, the chemistry test that she and the infamous ADeuce had was a disaster, her crush had given the cold shoulder, Grim got into a totally unnecessary fight with some idiots from the fourth year and as a result they lost their lunch and got some scratches, and the front of his beloved Ramsharckle dorm collapsed, the damp and old wood had given way. The bitter taste in the mouth was not enough to bring a revolt from within Yuu so that she raised a scream of fury and stepped on the floor, her tired body just looked at the mess and walked straight past, the dejected soul took a shower where she hoped for the deep in her fragile heart, the shampoo would clean the dirt she felt and the tears would mix with the hot water.

At least I Tsunotaro will come today.- the only hope she could have that night was to see her dear friend. She put on her less tattered pajamas and sat at the study table waiting for the famous green fireflies to appear.

Unfortunately he didn't show up, the prince didn't answer the call.

The lack of Malleus's gentle presence made schoolwork become heavier and the lump in the throat tightened more and more, the clock was counting down the seconds to….

“Henchman, are you okay? Your eyes are red” with the little self-control he had, Yuu nodded, avoiding his feline friend's gaze and focusing on the blurry letters of school work and just in time the light in the dorm was cut off.

“NYAAH” “It was just what was needed!” Could it be Crowley's irresponsibility? The electricity bill? Was it an attack? A short circuit? Either way, it doesn't matter anymore.

The tired body got up and silently searched for the candles until strange lights passing through the window caught the girl's attention. Ah, the meteor shower. Like a leaf carried by the wind, Yuu's steps, even without hope, led her to the front part of the ramsharckle, the same part of which fell and collapsed. Pushing aside some wood, the girl sat down on the floor and Grim followed her shortly after, not trusting that her friend would be okay alone.

“Henchman, what are we doing here?” "I don't know…"

Will I ever really go home? Will I live forever in this place being this weak? I would do anything to see my family again… I myself will find a way to find my way back, whatever the cost.

Loneliness and anguish weighed on Yuu's heart, like chains that tied her to a distant past, an overwhelming longing for her homeland. She longed for a home, for a place where she could be truly happy. Home….my home….my family….The starry night shone with a unique and mysterious beauty, the shooting stars cutting across the sky like tears of light. Each meteorite that fell seemed to echo the loneliness and anguish that Yuu felt inside her.

As she watched the shooting stars cut across the sky like sharp blades, one of them stood out, shining with a disturbing intensity that seemed to whisper Yuu's name as the golden ball of fire quickly fell towards the ground. Without knowing why the girl just followed her heart and with an irresistible impulse, Yuu ran towards the shooting star, her mind filled with a mixture of despair and hope that she didn't know where it came from.

The powerful ball of fire broke apart and reflected various colors and when the star finally fell into her hands. As she held the star in her trembling hands, Yuu felt a wave of magical power envelop her, making her tremble with emotion and fear. A magical energy enveloped her, and in an instant, the star fell apart, disappearing into her body. A warm feeling filled Yuu, and she felt her heart beat faster than ever. The star, now resident in her being, revealed its mysterious and enigmatic personality, whispering ancient secrets and dark promises in her ears and finally a deal was made between the magicless human and the fallen star.

As Yuu absorbed the star's powers, the old Ramshackle dormitory began to shake and transform in sinister and fascinating ways before his eyes. Walls contorted, furniture came to life, and the abandoned place metamorphosed into a lively castle, with sparkling towers and enchanted gardens. The magic of the falling star had awakened the true essence of the place, revealing its hidden beauty.

The animated castle, now filled with the dark aura of the shooting star, rose majestically from the ground, its dark towers rising like sharp claws against the starry sky. The enchanted garden has turned into a maze of thorns and shadows, where unknown creatures lurk in the shadows, watching with glowing, hungry eyes.

“H-henchman! What is happening??"

With an enigmatic smile on her lips, Yuu looked at Grim, whose gaze reflected a mixture of fear and confusion. "Let's go home," she whispered, her voice echoing like a whisper of unknown magic. The cat nodded silently and ran to the girl's shoulders, saving his questions for later, because maybe later Yuu wouldn't be looking like a crazy woman with a flying Ramsharckle.

The old Ramsharckle dorm floated to where the two were and the door opened waiting for the two to climb up to finally grant the previously magicless girl's heart's desire.

“I'll come back to say goodbye later”

Who knows if she would come back who knows if not

She looked back one last time, remembering her adventures with the troublemaking cat and all the friends she made there. And with a firm step the girl went up in her castle and felt more ready than ever to embark on this adventure.

As the castle floated toward the distant horizon, the lights of shooting stars and meteorites hovered above them, shrouding them in a veil of mystery and intrigue. Yuu felt a shiver run down his spine, but also a sense of determination and courage that had long been forgotten.

And so, enveloped by the darkness of the starry night and the sinister magic of the falling star, Yuu and Grim set out on a journey into the unknown, where ancient secrets and intertwined destinies awaited them in the shadows of their path. Amidst the darkness and starlight, Yuu and Grim's journey was just beginning, with the power of the shooting star guiding their steps towards their final destination.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

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jangofctts · 2 years

Text

Ungrateful Heart (Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, fingering, biting, Daemon being a little bitch, a hint of dubcon, degradation, hair pulling, doggy style, finger sucking, rough sex, creampies, (lmk if I missed something!)

a/n: hi yall good to be back after three months lmfaO

Kings Landing.

A vast city hugging the coast, buzzing with activity and painted in swatches of red roofs and golden banisters. You have been here once when you were a child. Though back then the glory and magic of it still persisted. Nowadays your days are shaded with doubt and a battle to stay afloat in the tumultuous sea of politics. You are not here for leisure—you are here as collateral. There is no mistaking the nature of you and your older brother’s stay at King’s Landing.

There has always been unrest in the Northlands—the distaste for the South all too common amongst your people. While it has quelled since your grandfather knelt before the Targaryen King, there will always be whispers, threats and rumors of usurpers. Your father did his best to silence this, but the Crown takes no chances. Letters were sent, requesting you and your brother to represent House Stark. Thinly veiled threats, is what you father made of these. And so you were sent off—offered on a silver platter to the beasts that roam the capital. It’s been nearly a year since then.

Your brother’s adjustment to the South has gone swimmingly. It’s easy to distract one’s self from burdens of sorrow with swordplay and jousting. You? You suppose reading a book could do, but it’s not the same. All that you’re allowed to do is prattle on about the state of the Realm and dispelling rumors of the North. A pretty little figurehead who no one gives a damn about listening to. You sigh. The world is far more accommodating to men than it is to women.

Uhg—and all the damn marriage proposals. An endless stream of papers that grow in number each day—half of the Houses you’ve never even heard of. You toss the majority of them into the fireplace, much at the behest of your brother. Whatever.

At least the Targaryen’s court is somewhat amusing. A lifetime of petty arguments that you observe from the shadows. Rhaenyra is kind and while you’re impartial to the King, there is one you wouldn’t mind seeing fall off a cliff. You detest Daemon Targaryen. Nothing but a short-tempered fool in search for personal glory and the weight of a crown. Always a thorn in your side

No matter the reason, he will always be a nagging pest. Always picking at your arguments, and yapping at your heels. There is nothing you are not at odds with when it concerns Prince Daemon. Despite your hatred, your mind seems to always drift to images of him in the wee hours of night. Dark armor, tall stature and sneering face. You frown. Disgusting. You hope he falls off his dragon and breaks his spine.

Your hateful wishes still do not protect you. Just the same as every night, the Rogue Prince drifts into your thoughts like wet ink spilling onto parchment. You toss and turn in your bed, silk sheets constricting your legs. Fuck this.

You can’t pinpoint the nagging feeling for leaving the safety of rooms this late at night. Oh, but it is beautiful like this—the castle swathed in the soft glow of the torches, the scent of burning wood and the sweet lilies populating the gardens. Not a soul walks these halls at night save for the occasional maester or King’s Guard. They pay you no mind.

Your footsteps echo on the cold stone, wandering through vast halls and winding corridors until you’re met with open air. Trees rustle in the dark—your feet have lead you to the Godswood. A twinge of homesickness pierces your heart for the cold and vast lands of white. For Winterfell’s homely walls, your younger siblings, your mother and father—

You clasp your hands together and rub at your knuckles. You sigh and drift to the heartwood, its weeping features a strange, basal comfort. Though your peace is quickly tarnished—

You are not alone in this courtyard.

Dark leather boots appear from the shadows as the hair on the back of your neck rises. The rest of the man’s body slowly reveals itself as he strolls into the flickering torchlight. Daemon Targaryen stands before you, his height towering in the darkness. Ice coagulates in your veins. You take a step back. He inclines his head, strands of pale silver flowing off his shoulder, predatory eyes raking over your figure. “Sleep evading you, Lady Stark?”

“Prince Daemon,” you reply curtly. “What a surprise."

You don’t attempt to curb your annoyance. Daemon’s shoulder bounce with a huff. “What brings you to the heartwood at this hour? Praying to your Gods for forgiveness? Or, perhaps a tryst in the dirt with a member of the Guard.”

You sniff, steeling your nerves as he approaches. His boots flatten the grass under his weight. “I could ask you the same, my lord.”

Daemon exhales through his nose and plants himself before you, toe to toe. A common ploy to intimidate you. He raises his hand and pinches a strand of your unbound hair and twirls it around his fingers. You scoff and jerk your chin—he drops his hand. “I only wished to see the Lady Stark safe—she has an awful habit of wandering where she ought not to.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line, dread clawing at your chest. You take a step away, he follows. “So you thought to follow me?”

This could end poorly, you are treading on eggshells. Your gaze drops to his hands that rest at his sides. There is old blood crusting under his nails, like rusting metal on a blade. You wonder who it belongs too, if it were just one poor soul or that of many Daemon has cut down. Remnants of his conquests—justice he deems fitting in the name of the Crown.

Two of those long, battle-worn fingers whisper under your jawline and slot beneath your chin. He tilts your head and your breath hitches. The ends of his mouth quirk into an impish smirk.

“Tell me something,” Daemon coaxes, thumb sweeping over the divot beneath your bottom lip. “Do I frighten you, little shadow?”

His words are mocking, not a hint of true compassion. He enjoys the foul sport of intimidation far too much.

This alone should disgust you.

But the air is humid and the night is thick with buzzing possibilities. Honeyed wine coats your tongue, spinning insults you wish to say, into molasses and ash. Your brows furrow. Setting aside the asinine manners and the questionable decisions—Daemon Targaryen intrigues you. He knows this—he is no fool to the sideways glances, the lingering focus on his mouth cradling the rims of golden chalices and his sharp smiles. You trusted in dark corners and the long shadows of the afternoon to hide you away, to keep your curiosities under wraps—a pity it never worked.

His free hand slithers around your bare arm, his fingers scalding over your already heated flesh. The pads of his fingers dig into your skin, indenting the muscle. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough that faint marks will linger.

“Tell me,” he prompts again, jostling your chin.

The warm glow of the torchlight carves his sharp features into something akin to sinister. To him, you are something to be devoured—conquered. A true warrior—wildfire thrums through his veins and each breath that puffs over your flushed skin is invitingly toxic. Lips made of glass and a voice cut from steel. A grin made for war and eyes flecked with embers—

You swallow and forget about the sins threaded in the fibers of his soul. It’s best you do. You do not wish to falter and lose your slippery foothold you have against Daemon. True—you are no fearsome warrior, deft with a blade, but what you lack in a sword, you make up in full with your whip-tongue. All these months you’ve held your head high, nipping back at every wayward insult he’s thrown at you. Every battle of wit and test of will, you’ve bested and shrugged aside. It is a reflection of the North—that your House is unwavering, to tread lightly amongst the wolves.

The Rogue Prince deemed you easy prey—a poor writhing creature that turns belly up and submits under the barest of pressure. But you are no dove.

This is a dance of ice and fire. You have no intentions of losing.

“No,” you finally answer, straightening your spine and your resolve. “You do not frighten me.”

A hum rumbles through his chest. “Is that so?”

You sigh, “What is there to fear, Daemon? A spoiled princeling, begging for scraps of the Realm’s affection—”

Daemon lashes out, hand clamping over your jaw like an iron bear trap. You swallow your yelp of pain as your teeth cut into the insides of your cheeks. The tip of his nose bumps yours, his voice a dangerous growl. “Do not think I won’t send your head back to your father on a pike.”

“And risk war with the North?” You bite back, words muddled. Daemon understands you nonetheless. “Don’t be so mindless.”

Daemon’s teeth clench, pale brows furrowed into a deep crease. His nostrils flare, his irate gaze unwavering. Within it you find only ruin. Fire in the darkness, raging against the void, raising his sword against the Gods. A snake swallowing its tail, sharp edged steel—all that he is, is ripped edges and cracked glass. You haven’t the heart to be afraid of him—promises of tomorrow spark and pop in his mouth, but you will steal them one by one for each time you see the sun set and the darkness take his place.

Hey squints. His hands roughly drop, but remain close enough to touch you. You wince as you roll your jaw and rub at the sore nerves pulsating under the skin. “Your knavish tongue will be your undoing, Lady Stark.”

And just when you think you’ve got him figured out, the wind shifts and his temperament smooths out. The bemused, coy smirk slips back into place. His hands lift, you flinch and his jackal grin grows. All he does is smooth out the rumbled fringe of your dress, indulging himself in a coquettish swipe of his fingers along the length of your collarbones. To a passerby it would appear as if he were adjusting your neckless—you both know better.

You chew your lip. Fuck it. You’ll take the risk of insulting him further. There’s nothing to lose here. You square your shoulders and swat at his lingering touch. “It is unbecoming for a prince to take such pleasure in his power.”

Daemon rubs at his chin. Your frown deepens. “My—you are venomous this evening.”

Daemon places his hands on your shoulders, the warmth and weight of them seeping through the light fabric of your dress. You fingernails dig into the flesh of your clenched fists. He nudges his palm into your shoulder joint, guiding you to face the weeping heart tree that lies within arms reach. You allow him to. “I take pleasure in my power, because…”

His words trail off. Your breath catches in your lungs as the Prince slots his lean body to yours. “Regardless of my actions, I will be vilified for it. These ungrateful sheep of the Realm will fancy themselves judge, jury, and executioner, but I am above them.”

It’s hot—layers of leather stick to your flushed skin, humid breaths scald your ear and throat. “Beneath me, everyone will burn.”

Everything is too damn close to you—you itch to peel every layer of cloth and skin from yourself if it offers even a shred of relief. Daemon mistakes the subtle arch in your spine as resistance and circles a weighty arm around your middle to deter your squirming. Daemon indulges in a lecherous squeeze of your midriff—you curse yourself for jumping.

“So twitchy,” he tuts. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as Daemon’s free hand sweeps back your unbound hair. Each spidery brush of his fingertips over the base of your spine leaves goosebumps in their wake. Your head swims, alarm bells clanging through your mind the moment Daemon curls his long, calloused fingers around your throat. Daemon grins and rests his chin over your shoulder, sharp nose burying into the crook of your of neck and shoulder. You know he can feel your fluttering, thrashing heart, pounding against the porcelain bars of your ribcage. Yet the more you struggle, the tighter his claws hook into you. “I wonder…”

You wade through the hazy, panicked blur that has settled over your mind. Your tongue wets your parched lips. You don’t understand the beginning of this question, nor do you really want to see how it ends. Regardless, you indulge him. “My lord?”

His low chuckle vibrates through his chest, porcelain teeth scraping along the column of your throat. “You tremble as if you are a maiden pure…” Daemon nips at ear, warm breath curling like a lick of fire alongside your cheek. “But I have trouble believing this narrative.”

Daemon’s fingers inch up your throat. His middle and forefinger touch your chin and then your bottom lip. He smooths the pads of his digits over your lip and drags the pliant flesh down, exposing your bottom row of teeth. “How many ingrates have these lips touched?”

His grip cinches tighter, eager to hear your answer. You clench your jaw. “I don’t see how that is any of your concern.”

“Oh, why don’t you give it up already?” Daemon sneers, “I see through your fucking front—how your pretty little eyes follow me down every corridor, through every room.”

Sharp pain erupts through your jaw as Daemon digs his thumb and middle finger into the joints of your jaw. Your yelp fades to a muffled squeal as Daemon shoves his fingers into your mouth without care. Your nails dig into the tough leather that cradles his arm, but no matter how much you squirm or attempt to shove the digits out with your tongue, there is no escape. Daemon’s teeth latch onto your throat, marring the fragile skin. “You can trick these dogmatic fools with your puritanical Northern ways—but I know the truth.”

You blubber around his fingers, saliva dripping down the sides of your stretched mouth and down his knuckles. Alarm bells continue to rattle inside your head, but that flailing panic drifts and blends into a dark current of gnashing teeth and a vortex of flame. Fervor and fear concoct a blend of sweet desire best left untouched.

But when has the Rogue Prince ever listened to reason? Instead he takes this love like poison and slathers it onto rusted daggers in search of a home between the vertebrae of your spine. You think of your hands, threading through platinum white hair and the red of his laughter. A barbed thing, a taunting thing, and a smile that leans to the left and sharp as a scythe. You crave him like hemlock.

Daemon snickers as his fingers sink deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your soft tongue, the taste of him and salt flooding your tongue. He then pulls them nearly free from your lips, only to drive them back in, then out. A devious lick of arousal pools in your tummy as Daemon Targaryen finger fucks your mouth. He ceases the sick torture the second you gag and claw at his forearm. “There now,” he coos. You shiver despite the heat, his whisper a wicked scrape in your ear. “You desire me just as much as I crave you.”

You whimper as he drags his fingers completely free from your lips, leaving a trail of sticky saliva over your chin. Daemon jostles your face with a prompting hum. Your voice is hoarse. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” He goads, slithering his sinful hands down the plain of your waist. You writhe under his touch, choking on embers and acidic oaths you hate to dispel off your tongue.

“Yes,” you grit out, “I desire you, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon clicks his tongue. “What fine manners,” he replaces his hand over your throat and pushes your head back until it meets the line of his shoulder. “A shame you only use them to persuade me into fucking you.”

Stretched out like this, bearing your vulnerable neck to his hungry mouth, you meet his eyes. “Your arrogance protects you from coercion—so I believed, my lord.”

Sure, you already know the answer and yes, you’re toying with the untamed viciousness that flickers within his irises. You’re only playing coy to wheedle in a catty insult. It’s one of the simple pleasures in life—making a mockery of Daemon Targaryen.

“Wretched shadow—I should cut out your tongue for your insolence.”

Before you have a chance to reply, Daemon’s mouth descends onto yours. A kiss full of teeth and iron—nothing about his lips are forgiving. Its blooms like a cut—hard, hungry and victorious. You are the spoils of an enduring, uphill battle, and so he claws at your arms, your clothes, your hair—

He rips himself away when the discomfort of your positioning grows too tedious. Daemon’s chest heaves, lips making a home in the crux of your neck and shoulder. You’re equally short of breath, knees buckling as Daemon’s brash hand cups your breast through your poor excuse of a dress. More of a robe really—

You yelp as he pinches your nipple, rolling it harshly between his fingers. You feel his grin curl up his narrow face, delighted in the results he’s cultivated. Irritation flares in your chest—you’ve slipped seamlessly into his dastardly scheme. Though, right as he moves to your other breast, kneading the pillowy skin, your mind conjures kindling. Your lips tickle his throat, words hushed. “You have a wife, princeling. What would she think of this?”

The muscles in Daemon’s jaw jump as his jaw clenches. His touches cease as a growl rumbles through his chest. The oncoming silence is terse—swelling with raw nerves you’ve poked and prodded at. You don’t care.

Daemon’s lip curls, canines flashing in the torchlight. “Not a damn thing. I take what I please.” His fingers leap to the crux of your thighs, securing his hold around your neck and cupping your cunt through your dress. You gasp and arch your spine. “When I please.”

The heel of his palm rocks into your cunt, sparking your arousal tenfold. Wetness has seeped through your underclothes some time ago, yet now you’re at risk for discovery. Not that this poses a real issue—your hips roll into his hand as your lips part in a gasp—you’re long past any sense propriety. He squeezes your throat, thumb making a home over your pulse point, pounding like a war drum. “You will do well to remember this—the world is mine to conquer, foolish girl.”

A strangled cry breeches your lips as Daemon hikes the skirts of your dress up your thighs. He grabs at your inner thigh, kneading the flesh for a moment before his hand finds your center once more. A stuttered sigh escapes him, feeling your heat through the thin layer of your underclothes. It sticks to your cunt, your wetness amplified by the gentle breeze that whispers through the Godswood, rattling the wine-red leaves as if the Gods themselves sigh in disappointment. Thoughts of sacrilege melt from your mind as Daemon curses, calloused fingers rubbing your slit through the fabric. Your knees buckle, waves of pleasure cascading through every nerve.

Daemon trails his fingers from the top of your cunt, circling your clit then down to rub over your dripping entrance. Despite his touches being blunted, the effect is all the same. “Dae—”

The hand on your throat slaps over your mouth, quieting your mewls. “Hush, wretched thing.”

The moment his teeth imbed themselves into your neck is the very same moment in which Daemon’s patience snaps. Your underclothes are forcibly removed, ripped seams and soaked cotton pooling around your ankles. His feverish panting scorches your skin, stuttered and edging madness—the world cracks and splits as his fingers finally meet your burning cunt. Your moan breaks against the lines of his palm, unraveling beneath the pads of his fingers that glide through your wet lips. Back and forth they tease, doing nothing to satiate. You thrash—it’s not enough.

And then, when you think it can’t get any worse, Daemon stops moving entirely. He laughs as you wine and wriggle. He pulls his hand off your mouth, a thin string of saliva connecting you for a quick moment, fingers hovering right over your throbbing clit. “Dae—Prince Daemon, please.”

“Desperate little shadow,” he coos, “Wetting my fingers like a common whore.”

You should feel more conflicted—aghast even—but his insults are kindling to a burning house. You murmur prayers of forgiveness to the rustling leaves above you, hushed words tumbling into a whiney pleas as Daemon circles your clit. Your fingernails scrabble over his knuckles, hoping that your efforts will result in gratification. All it does is make him pause.

“I should leave you like this,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. Your heart seizes. “Unsatisfied and dripping.” Daemon’s forehead drops onto your shoulder, his hand dipping further between your pussy. His fingers spread over your cunt, doing the best he can at this angle and teasing out a little moan. You jolt as Daemon abruptly plunges the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. “But you would never learn.”

Your cry echos through the Godswood as Daemon’s slots his fingers to your swollen clit. Your legs shake—his pace starts off mellow, pressing fleeting little circles to the bundle of nerves. The pleasure is raw, but there’s no place you can run to. You’re pinned to his chest, destined for torture—to witness his black-hearted delight. You curse and Daemon cuts to the quick, fast and rough, toying with your body like a marionette and her puppeteer—tugging on invisible strings until you dance for him. You squeeze your eyes shut and claw and his forearm, unsure if you’re trying to pull him closer or away from you.

It’s too much and too quickly. Daemon gives no time to build up the pleasure. It all descends upon you in a vicious wave. Searing heat courses through you from the centre of your core and lashes out to your lower spine and beyond. You arch as the pleasure begins to scald, but his touch follows, his hold unyielding. Your mind folds as your orgasm cracks, a string of senseless babbling and cries of his name all that you can make sense of.

His fingers press firmly against your clit, your core clenching so hard around nothing that it aches. Your ears ring, the ecstasy bursting through your trembling body. Your knees buckle and he lets you fall. The moss coating the thick heartwood roots absorbs the shock of your fall, but the dirt still stains your knees and palms, still shaking with aftershocks. You squeeze your eyes just to rid your vision of the blurriness and sluggishly move to stand.

Leather creaks and the snap of a belt sounds behind you. A second later Daemon tosses his sword to your left, the silvery hilt glowing pale in the moonlight. You swing your head over your shoulder as Daemon kneels. He shoots you a sharp, toothy smile. Your heart lurches. This is far from over.

The sound of rustling fabric and low cursing cuts through some of the anticipation. You look back and bite your lip to curb your snicker. Daemon is hunched over, pawing at the drawstrings of his tented trousers, dexterous as a drunk. “Having trouble with your laces, m’lord?”

Daemon snarls and tears through the flimsy string with sheer force. You yelp as Daemon grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks. His lean body curls over yours, nose brushing along your neck. “Speaking is a privilege. Quiet yourself before I silence your mouth with my cock.”

He shoves your head to the soft earth, his other hand pushing up your skirts to expose your bare ass. Daemon murmurs a curse or perhaps a lick of praise as he runs his roughened palm over the globes of your ass. You shiver as his fingers sweep inward, collecting the wetness that has coated the soft skin there. His palm trades in his hold on your throbbing scalp to instead drag his thumbs through your slit. You dare not move from this position. His thumbs part your swollen lips, sliding through the velveteen flesh until he finds your weeping entrance.

Daemon purrs as he sinks his middle finger inside of you, all the way to the base and without resistance. You keen and fist the grass under you. Your walls stretch around the second finger he stabs into you, lazily thrusting the digits in and out. Heat burns your cheeks at the wet sounds your body makes. Though there’s not much time to enjoy Daemon’s fingers—he’s impatient as they come.

He kneels up straight and shuffles closer. You gasp as you feel him, hot and straining against your thigh. Daemon strokes his cock, knuckles scraping against your pussy as if to tease you. You wine and push your hips back, your self respecting dwindling to ash.

Daemon brings the blunt tip of himself to your cunt and rocks his hips coating his cock in your slick. “Tell me you need it.”

His hand is back in your hair, pulling at the strands. You don’t need much encouragement. You force your tongue into coherency. “Please—I…I need it, my Prince. N-need you.”

Daemon snickers and rubs a comforting hand over the base of your spine. And then, with little warning, he sheaths the entirety of his length inside of your aching center. You screech, gouging your fingers through the damp earth and scrabbling for some sort of stability. He’s big—bigger than what you’ve taken in the past and your cunt pulses and struggles to accommodate him. Daemon only laughs, a breathless taunt, as his fingers leave behind bruises in the shape of him. “Fuck, you’re tight. Does it hurt, little shadow?”

“No,” you squeak. And for the most part it’s true—your walls burn, and a dull ache settles deep inside of you as Daemon’s cock touches the end of you. But your wetness aids the glide and sets the burning nerves alight with crackling ecstasy. You bow your head, resting your forehead on your forearm as Daemon rocks his narrow hips. The experimental pace trips into something harsher, encouraged by the breathless squeaks he pushes out of you. His hands anchor over your hips, aiding the brutal rhythm of his cock slamming into your tight heat.

You lose yourself to this pleasure—washed out to sea to drown in the waves. For the first time since meeting Daemon, he speaks your name to the heavens, but you don’t even recognize it. Can’t recognize it—the syllables are to foreign and grating to your eardrums. These frenzied moments are a blur of white-hot embers, smoke and ash and hard fingertips littering your skin with crescent moon indents. Bites, laden with heavy kisses leech out the sting as you moan and whimper. You roll your hips and arch your back in a way you’d find positively deplorable if you were coherent enough to form proper thoughts.

“Greedy fucking shadow—”

You like that better than your name—that’s who you are—who you always will be to him. It all makes sense with that name tumbling against the ridges of your spine with the cutting lips that follow it. Damp skin and sticky fingers wind around your legs spread legs, fingers slipping over you cunt before the resettle and touch your clit. Daemon presses down on your clit, bucks his hips, swollen cock inside you twitching as your walls squeeze him. He pants against your ear, fingers slipping round and round over your clit. You’re so full, so fucking full that your legs tremble and your toes curl. Everything tightens like a vice, stars scattering behind your eyelids. All that you are is some writhing sweaty mess, biting at your forearm. It’s a gargantuan task, struggling to your elbows, and rocking back as much as you can. Fuck—all you can think about is Daemon—

“Stop wriggling and just fucking take it,” Daemon bites. Saliva or maybe blood, dribbles down your shoulder, your collarbone, and wets the moss below.

You cry as the edge beckons and explodes. He catches you up whilst you’re faced with the precipice of orgasm. Daemon grabs at your hair, wrenching your head to face the gnarled face of the heartwood. “Scream my name to your Old Gods.”

You do. Oh, you do, Gods forgive this as you implode and split at the seams. The hard heat of his belly presses through his tunic and sits flush against your back, the line of your spine curved into the pounding echo of his heartbeat. He hasn’t stopped—he still thrusts into your cunt in search for his own end. Your stomach flips as Daemon hooks his elbow under your knee flips you onto your back.

His length slips free, only to be guided back inside of you once he drapes your thighs around his waist. You throw your head back and claw at his tunic, wheezing when his hand ensnares your neck and restricts your air. He is a mass of burning stardust, a winged fragment of space that burns bright as the sun. People will never be able to understand the true form of him. Yet they still fear the catalogue of coalesced volcanic ash and anger. The wildness. His many black-tinted hungers. You will always tenderly tell yourself that he nothing to be afraid, as if his mouth were not filled with blood.

You are not made to burn like this, you are a creature of ice and snow, yet you still risk dragon fire. Holding you like a moth to a flame—you let him blind you, igniting your heart and allowing his heat to incinerate all he cares to take. “Look at me,” he commands.

The inferno rages around you, his hips swinging freely in a stuttered rhythm only meant to service him. There is no concern for you in these fleeting moments, you’re only a means to end, but fuck—it still feels good. Still rubs against nerves that spark and ignite with each thrust. His cock pounds into you, the Godswood filled with sounds of your rough joining, abdomen scraping over your clit. A knowing smirk splits across his face as you cum once more—convulsing and jittery. You reach for him and twist your fingers into his hair—Daemon allows it. With one last wheezy sputter of his name from your lips, he’s done for.

You choke as the full weight of him collapses onto you—his hips shoving his twitching cock as deep as it will go into your cunt. Warmth floods your insides as he cums, his fragile moaning a delight to your ringing ears. Soon, he settles, panting into the column of your throat, pulse racing.

Right when its feels as though he will crush your ribcage, Daemon lifts himself and cups your jaw. You blink, eyes hazy with exhaustion and lust.

“Open,” he orders. You do so without a fight and open your mouth. Perverse joy flickers in his eyes. “Good.”

Your eyes bulge as he spits into your mouth. You don’t have time to feel conflicted over the way your body roars with a new wave of arousal, because he’s kissing you. Devouring your bruised mouth with tongue and teeth—it leaves you breathless. You don’t like the way your heart yearns for more when Daemon pulls away. He skates his thumb up your jawline, admiring the way your softness catches on his calloused skin. There’s no fuss, nor any words spoken as he pulls his cock free from you, only a hiss through clenched teeth. His spend dribbles out of your cunt and paints your inner thighs—a beautiful canvass of sin and debauchery.

He stands, readjusts his trousers and reaches for his abandoned sword. He ties the scabbard to his belt and turns on his heel. “Do be careful on your way back to your rooms, Lady Stark,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Who knows what filth lurks in the dark.”

You bite your lip and watch him pace away, melding into the dark. You lift your eyes to the canopy of leaves overhead and sigh. They shiver and twist in the gentle breeze. “Gods above—forgive me.”

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