#grace marketplace

[nightlyponder]

Went to my local library branch - not the one i work at - to do my homework and i think i might make that my routine on Sundays. Knocked out some readings and discussion/replies in 2.5 hours easy

A little late to the game but whatever gets it done right?

[amanita-muscaria-lover]

I- it's literally just a brick ??

[blessmeultima00]

In the softening glow of twilight, amidst the hum of a bustling marketplace, stands a woman of quiet confidence. Her eyes, luminous and perceptive, hold the gentle firmness of one acquainted with both beauty and resilience. Light filters through the paper lanterns overhead, casting a warm aureole that dapples her visage with the ambience of a sunset's embrace.

She carries the grace of an unspoken narrative in the poise of her head, tilted ever so slightly, as if to catch the whispered secrets of the wind. Her attire, modest yet adorned with the intricate details of a bygone craftsmanship, speaks of a reverence for tradition entwined with the comfort of the familiar. Here is a soul that does not simply traverse the world, but rather moves with it, her existence a delicate dance with the tapestry of life's unfolding moments.

Her presence seems to weave harmony into the air, a serenity that is not oblivious to life's undercurrents, but rather chooses to face them with the subtlety of a soft but indomitable will. In her, one can glimpse the unfolding story of generations, the silent strength passed down through time, soft as silk, strong as steel.

In this fleeting moment, captured as if by the brush of an impressionist painter, she invites the onlooker to ponder not merely her image, but the vast and vibrant world that stretches out invisibly behind her gaze.

[hellenhighwater]

A month or so ago I came across a listing on Marketplace with one photo, a price of $50, and the following description: "12x8x1 i have 45". Now, $50 for 45 pieces of stained glass of that size is an insane deal; $50 per piece of stained glass is...well, it's not crazy, but it's not a price I'd be willing to pay. Glass generally isn't as expensive as you think.

So I messaged him, and he clarified that the price was per piece, and I did my best to politely explain that I was not interested in paying $2,250 on stained glass slabs. Extracting myself from that conversation took some time, since he was keen to make a sale, and I had zero budget for it, but I did eventually make my graceful exit.

And then three days ago he messaged me, saying he was moving and to make him an offer on the glass.

I told him I really don't have much room in the budget for this, and I know it's not a number he'll like, but the best I could do is $200.

He said sold.

So yesterday I went and fetched forty five slabs of stained glass, each an inch thick and a foot long, and eight inches wide. My plan is to use some in the aviary, and also I may use some for book pressing, because they're pretty. The glass is so thick that you can hardly tell what color they are when they're laid flat. The colors are mostly a range of dark blues, purples, greens, and browns, which works great with my color palette. I want to eventually add a loft so that the doves can be out year-round, and ideally natural light would be good. However, doves are easily startled, and transparent glass runs the risk of them trying to fly through it. Stained glass is both prettier and safer.

They're intended for a stained glass technique called Dalle de Verre, where slab glass is chipped into irregular facets and set in concrete, which was popularized during the Brutalist movement. It's a cool technique! I don't know if I'll try it, but it is lovely.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Billy x thief reader 👀 she tries to pick pocket billy without knowing his reputation which only leads to a flirty confrontation. Love your writing smm 💕

Takes two to tango || Billy the Kid x reader

A/n: i love this request, keep them coming!!!!! and thank you anon <333

Warnings: none?

Wc: 673

Billy the Kid masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

Santa Fe's sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues over the terra cote streets. You, adorned in a vibrant red dress that swayed with each sway of your hip, glided through the lively crowd. Your h/c hair framed an innocent smile that could charm even the sternest of faces, a charming and strikingly beautiful young woman whose smile hid secrets, a façade concealing the nimble fingers of a pickpocket.

The people of Santa Fe were oblivious to the danger that walked among them. No one suspected a pretty lady like yourself with a twinkle in your eyes, adorned in jewelry, to be a master of the unsavory art, pickpocketing.

Your charm, your grace that rivaled even the most high status ladies in society was your greatest weapon. Your targets were carefully chosen, and you would distract them with a captivating smile, witty banter, flirtatious charm, and the subtle dance of your nimble fingers.

One fateful day, the town buzzed, a cloud of dust announced the arrival of a lone cowboy. He had an air of mystery about him that drew your attention, a charm that rivaled your own. His rugged features were hidden beneath the brim of his worn hat, his piercing blue eyes surveyed the vibrant scene, taking in the sights and sounds of Santa Fe with a cool confidence.

Unable to resist the lure of a new challenge, you sauntered over to him with a coy smile, your hips swaying subtly with each step. "Well, hello there, stranger. Santa Fe welcomes you," you greeted him, your voice as sweet as honey.

Billy, drawn in by your beauty and charisma, reciprocated with a smile that revealed his dimples, tipping his hat. "Thank you, ma'am. Quite a lively place you got 'ere," his gaze locks on you. "Santa Fe is quite something, I agree." You softly chuckle, your eyes scanning him.

"What brings you here," You tilt your head, letting charm take center change. One corner of his lip tips up, his eyes drifting to the side for a fleeting moment as you inch closer to him.

You engage in conversation as Billy responds with equal enthusiasm. As you spoke, your fingers moved with practiced precision, exploring the edges of his pockets. The marketplace provided the perfect cover, its chaotic ambiance camouflaging your subtle movements.

You reveled in the thrill of the heist, confident that your charm would keep him blissfully unaware. Billy, though new to Santa Fe, was no stranger to the art of survival. His instincts kicked in as he felt the subtle graze of your fingers, and with a swift motion, grabbed your delicate wrist with a slight smirk.

Surprise flashed across your features, but you quickly composed yourself, turning the encounter into a playful interaction. "Well now, what do we have 'ere?" Billy's voice was low and velvety as he spoke. "A charming lady with a mischievous side."

You chuckled, feigning innocence. "Oh, you caught me. I must admit, you're quite perceptive, cowboy. Maybe I just couldn't resist the allure of a handsome cowboy like yourself," Billy's gaze lingered on you, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

Billy chuckled, releasing your wrist. "Well, darlin' you've got nerve I'll give you that, most folks 'round here just tip their hats and move on," You tilt your head coyly to the side at his words.

"I'm not like most folks, and you're not like most cowboys," you arch and eyebrow at him. "Tell me, darlin', what would drive a lady like you to such daring efforts?"

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you responded, "Survival, perhaps," You shrug, Billy's laugh resonated through the air, a deep and hearty sound.

"Well, you've certainly made my day more interesting, ma'am. But I reckon you should find a more honest way to make a living," A challenge flickered between you and the handsome outlaw, an unspoken understanding that there was more to both of you than met the eye.

"They say there are two paths that a women can take; marry, or whore yourself," You began, looking around before you fold your arms. "Tried whoring," Billy's lips part, "but that only made me realise my self-worth more," Your eyes fall down onto the grown at your feet where you kick a rock.

"Oh I know you're worth more than that, sweetheart." Billy steps closer to you, taking your chin in between his fingers which catches you off guard. The air crackled with a tension that transcended mere flirtation. The dance between pickpocket and cowboy had just begun.

"Seems you've got a talent for lightening a man's pockets," Billy remarked, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as you mirror him. You raised an eyebrow, "it's just a little something I picked up along the way. Keeps life interesting, wouldn't you say?"

Billy leaned against a wooden post, his gaze never leaving yours. "Interesting is one way to put it," he swallows, his eyes watching a family walk past, "most folks call it risky business, though," you lock eyes with him once again.

"Oh, but where's the fun without a bit of risk?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, I've got a knack for it." Billy chuckled, shaking his head, "Well, ma'am, you've certainly added a twist to my day. Never thought I'd meet a pickpocket so......" he trails off, his eyes swept over you, a heat evident in the way his eyes drank your details, from head to toe before wetting his lips, "charming."

You stepped closer, the little space between you filled with an electric energy. "And I never though I'd such a handsome cowboy with keen instincts. Caught me fair and square." Billy's gaze softened, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"So, what's a charming lady like you doing in a place like this? There's gotta be more to the story." You sighed, as if revealing a secret. "Life's not always as pretty as it seems. Sometimes, a girl's gotta do what she can to get by."

His expression grew more serious, a subtle understanding passing between you. "We've all go out ways of surviving in this world." He sharply inhales, his hands resting on his hips. "Would you like somethin' to drink, ma'am?" He questions you with a subtle smirk on his lips as you bite your lip lightly, "Though you'd never ask," Billy cracks a smile.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Happy Ever After

Anon: Could you maybe make an AU with Carlos? Kind of a Romeo and Juliet vibe where they’re both royalty and aren’t allowed to be together but w a happy ending?

Song: Love Story by Indila

Author’s note: Hey anon! I'm not used to the story of Romeo and Juliet so please bear with me! Please like, reblog and share this! <33

Word count: 8.6k

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aragonia, nestled between towering mountains and winding rivers, lay a land of unparalleled beauty and prosperity. The kingdom was a tapestry of lush, verdant landscapes, where rolling hills were adorned with wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze.

Majestic castles, their spires reaching towards the heavens, stood as a testament to the kingdom's rich history and the ingenuity of its people.

The citizens of Aragonia were a proud and industrious lot, known far and wide for their skilled craftsmanship and unwavering commitment to their community.

From the bustling marketplaces in the heart of the capital city to the quaint, charming villages that dotted the countryside, the people of Aragonia lived in harmony, their days filled with the laughter of children and the rhythmic hum of daily life.

At the center of this enchanting kingdom stood the grand palace, a sprawling edifice of gleaming marble and intricate stonework.

Here, the wise and benevolent ruler of Aragonia presided, guiding the kingdom with a steady hand and a deep understanding of the needs of his people.

Under the watchful eye of the monarch, Aragonia flourished, its reputation for prosperity and innovation spreading far beyond its borders, drawing in visitors from near and far who marveled at the beauty and wonder of this truly remarkable land.

Princess Y/N, known for your grace and beauty, was the eldest daughter of King Alfonso VII. You had inherited your father's intelligence and compassion, making you a beloved figure within the kingdom.

Prince Carlos, on the other hand, was the youngest son of King Ferdinand III. Despite his noble status, he possessed a rebellious spirit that drew him closer to the commoners.

King Alfonso and King Ferdinand were embroiled in a bitter feud that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. The two monarchs harbored deep-seated animosity towards one another, stemming from long-standing political and personal disputes.

This toxic rivalry manifested in a climate of tension and distrust, with the two men constantly vying for power and influence. The tension between them spilled over into their respective families, creating a rift that only served to exacerbate the already precarious situation within the kingdom.

As the conflict escalated, the people of the land found themselves caught in the crossfire, uncertain of their future and the stability of the realm. . . .

"Princess Y/N, are you ready for the party?" your servant asked you as you stared out of your oval-shaped window, revealing the endless sea and the docks.

"Yes Matilda, I am ready," you muttered.

You were not. You hated going to these parties that your father organized. The grand halls filled with nobility, the endless chatter about alliances and politics, and the constant pressure to present yourself as the perfect princess made you feel suffocated.

You'd rather stay here and watch the sea forever, losing yourself in the gentle rhythm of the waves and the distant calls of the seabirds.

As you reluctantly turned away from the window, you couldn't help but sigh. The ocean had always been your sanctuary, a place where you could dream of freedom and adventure far from the palace walls.

But duty called, and you knew you had to uphold your role, no matter how much it pained you.

Adjusting your gown, you took a deep breath and steeled yourself for the evening ahead, wishing that one day you might find a way to escape the gilded cage that held you.

Your father expected you to charm the guests, forge new alliances, and perhaps even catch the eye of a suitable suitor. He had always emphasized the importance of these gatherings for the kingdom's future, and he relied on you to play your part perfectly.

Despite your own desires, you knew that failing to meet his expectations could have serious repercussions for both you and the realm.

The thought of potential suitors filled you with a mixture of dread and resignation. You longed for a partner who understood your love for the sea and your yearning for freedom, rather than someone who only saw you as a pawn in their political games.

Yet, you knew that such a romantic ideal was unlikely in your world, where alliances were forged not by love but by necessity. . . .

"Carlos! Are you sure this isn't going to get us into big trouble?" Mercutio whispered as the three of them pushed through the overgrown garden of the Alfonso family.

Carlos grinned, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Relax, Mercutio. I've done this a dozen times before. The Alfonsos are too busy celebrating to notice a few extra guests," he replied confidently, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

"Besides, we blend in perfectly. Just act like you belong, and no one will question a thing."

Benvolio, trailing behind them, chimed in, "He's right, Mercutio. Remember last summer when we crashed the mayor's gala? We even got compliments on our outfits!" He adjusted his mask and smoothed his clothes, trying to muster up some of Carlos' bravado.

"Let's just have fun tonight. What's the worst that could happen?"

The garden was a labyrinth of lavishly manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds, with twinkling fairy lights strung overhead that cast a magical glow on the scene. Stone statues of mythical creatures peeked out from behind dense shrubbery, and a grand marble fountain stood at the center, its water sparkling like liquid diamonds.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, adding an enchanting allure to the evening.

"Just blend in," Carlos finally whispered before slipping into the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Mercutio and Benvolio exchanged a quick glance, then followed suit, mingling seamlessly with the other revelers.

The sound of laughter and music enveloped them as they made their way toward the heart of the celebration, hoping their disguises would hold up under the scrutiny of the Alfonso family and their guests.

Carlos was dressed in an elegant black suit adorned with intricate gold embroidery, his mask a matching black with delicate filigree that framed his eyes.

Mercutio wore a deep blue velvet coat with silver accents, his mask resembling a Venetian masterpiece with feathers that added a touch of mystique.

Benvolio, opting for a more understated look, sported a dark green ensemble with subtle bronze details, his mask simple yet sophisticated, giving him an air of quiet confidence.

Carlos, Mercutio and Benvolio all arrived at the mansion, eager to have a good time. As they mingled with the guests, no one had any idea that they were from the rival Ferdinand family.

They blended in seamlessly, sipping drinks and chatting merrily, their true identities hidden from the unsuspecting crowd.

The three friends revelled in the freedom of being anonymous at the party. They could let their guard down and truly enjoy themselves, without the constant tension and rivalry that existed between their family and the Alfonso.

For once, they were able to forget the long-standing feud and simply live in the moment, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. . . .

"Everyone! Please give your full attention to King Alfonso and his daughter, Princess Y/N who make their appearance tonight!" The announcer stated, catching everyone's attention and the room came to a silent halt.

The grand hall was adorned with opulent chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Rich tapestries depicting scenes of royal triumphs hung on the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the background, adding to the regal atmosphere.

At the top of the imperial staircase, a majestic red carpet led straight to the throne, where King Alfonso and Princess Y/N stood in their resplendent attire.

King Alfonso, a striking figure with a commanding presence, wore a robe of deep crimson velvet trimmed with gold embroidery. His crown, encrusted with precious gemstones, rested regally upon his silver hair, which added to his dignified look.

His piercing blue eyes surveyed the room with a mixture of authority and benevolence, and a jeweled scepter in his right hand glinted under the chandelier's light, symbolizing his unchallenged power and leadership.

Princess Y/N, standing gracefully beside him, was the epitome of elegance and poise. Your gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and satin in shades of royal blue, shimmered with every movement.

A tiara of diamonds and sapphires adorned your flowing locks, complementing your serene and captivating beauty.

Your eyes, a brilliant shade of green, radiated warmth and kindness as you acknowledged the gathered guests, while your calm demeanor and gentle smile hinted at the wisdom and strength that lay beneath your refined exterior.

Carlos and his friends were at the buffet, eagerly sampling the lavish spread of delicacies when the announcement echoed through the hall.

While his companions barely glanced up before returning to their plates, Carlos found himself captivated by the sight of you. Your graceful presence and ethereal beauty held him spellbound, making it impossible for him to look away.

The sparkle of your tiara and the gentle warmth in your eyes seemed to draw him in, as if you were the very embodiment of a fairy tale come to life.

As his friends continued their animated conversation about the best dishes at the buffet, Carlos remained rooted to his spot, his gaze fixed firmly on the princess.

He felt an inexplicable connection, a magnetic pull that made the noise and bustle around him fade into the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered; all he could see was you, and all he could feel was the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, you might notice him amidst the sea of faces.

The first dance came soon after the announcement, and Carlos knew it was the perfect chance to make his presence known. As the music started, couples began to fill the dance floor, but Carlos's eyes never left you.

Gathering his courage, he approached with a respectful bow, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity in his gaze, and placed your hand in his.

As you both moved gracefully to the rhythm, the world seemed to blur around you. Carlos felt a sense of belonging and purpose, each step affirming the connection he felt.

In your presence, the grandeur of the ballroom faded, leaving just the two of you, sharing a moment that neither would soon forget.

"What is your name?" you asked, your voice as melodious as the music enveloping the room. Carlos hesitated for a brief moment, the truth perched on the edge of his tongue.

"My name is Charles," he lied. A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nervousness.

You tilted your head slightly, a curious glint in your eyes as you continued to dance. "Charles," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me, Charles, what brings you to our celebration tonight?"

Carlos swallowed hard, determined to maintain his composure. "I came with friends," he replied, gesturing subtly towards the buffet. "But now, I am grateful for this unexpected opportunity to dance with you, Princess."

Carlos and you danced gracefully before your father, the King. As the music came to an end, your father gave you a pointed look, signalling that it was time to separate and greet another potential suitor.

You leaned in to Carlos and whispered, "Meet me in the west garden in an hour."

Carlos' eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You made your way through the throng of guests, exchanging pleasantries with the various noblemen and women who sought your attention. However, your mind was focused on the upcoming meeting with Carlos.

As the appointed hour approached, you slipped away from the main festivities and hurried to the west garden. Carlos was already there, waiting for you under the moonlit sky.

"You came," You said, relief evident in your voice.

"Of course," Carlos responded, taking your hands in his. "I couldn't bear the thought of not seeing you, even if it's just for a moment."

"Carlos, I... I don't know what to do. My father expects me to entertain these suitors, but that's not what my heart wants me to do."

Carlos squeezed your hands gently, his eyes searching yours. "Sometimes, we must follow our hearts, even if it means defying expectations," he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

"I know it might be difficult, but you deserve to be with someone who understands you, who cherishes you for who you are, not just for your title."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your father's expectations and the longing in your heart. "But what if my father never approves? What if he forces me to marry someone else?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Carlos stepped closer, his grip on your hands firm and reassuring. "Then we'll find a way to be together, no matter the obstacles. Love is worth fighting for, Princess. And I promise, I will fight for you."

"But how, you've only met me today," you started, your voice tinged with skepticism.

"It's something called love at first sight, Princess," Carlos teased, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "From the moment I saw you, I knew there was something special about you. It's not just about the title or the expectations—it's about the connection we share, even in such a short time."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but doubt still lingered. "But what if this feeling fades? What if we regret defying everything for a chance that might not last?"

Carlos' expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity. "Feelings like this don't fade easily, Princess. Genuine connections are rare and precious, and I believe ours is one of them. We owe it to ourselves to explore this, to give our hearts a chance to truly know if it's real."

"Okay," you replied shyly, a blush rising to your cheeks. No one has ever spoken to you like this before; it has always been about fulfilling duties and consummating the marriage.

Your entire life, you were taught that love was secondary to alliances and obligations, but Carlos' words stirred something deep within you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than duty.

Carlos' eyes softened as he noticed your hesitation. "This world we live in often binds us with chains of duty and tradition. But sometimes, those chains need to be broken for us to truly live. Let me prove to you that what we have is real. Let me show you a world where love and happiness aren't just dreams but possibilities."

His words carried a promise, a vow that resonated with the unspoken desires in your heart.

You nodded, unable to speak any more, tears welling up in your eyes. Carlos' hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your cheek, the simple gesture sending a shiver down your spine. His lips lingered for a moment, and you closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected comfort and reassurance his presence brought.

As he pulled back, his eyes never left yours, a silent promise passing between you.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing together against the backdrop of an uncertain future.

You took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength and determination blooming within you. With Carlos by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, confident that love, for once, would guide your path.

"Should your first job to court me be to kiss me on the lips?" you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. Carlos chuckled, the sound light and full of promise.

"If that is what the princess desires," he replied, his voice low and husky.

He leaned in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wished. But you didn't; instead, you found yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss.

The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if both of you were savoring the moment's significance. Then it deepened, becoming a silent conversation of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was racing, and you saw the same exhilaration mirrored in Carlos' eyes.

"Consider it the first of many," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because this is just the beginning of our journey together."

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a blend of excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of belonging. The kiss had unlocked a floodgate of feelings you had kept hidden for so long, and in that brief, magical moment, you felt truly seen and understood.

As you gazed into Carlos' eyes, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you would face it together, strengthened by the bond you had just forged.

"How will I communicate with you?" Carlos whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "We'll find a way," you replied, your voice steady with conviction. "Whether through letters, messages, or the silent understanding we share, we'll always be connected."

Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with trust and determination. "I believe in us," he said quietly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

"Princess Y/N! Where are you?" you heard your maid, Matilda, yell out your name, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and worry.

You turned towards the sound, your heart sinking slightly at the reminder of your duties and the world that awaited outside this intimate bubble.

"I think that's the sign to leave, but don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow," Carlos said, letting go of you reluctantly. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Promise?" you asked, your eyes searching his.

"Promise," Carlos replied, his gaze unwavering.

With one last lingering look, you turned and began to walk towards Matilda's voice, feeling Carlos' eyes on you until you disappeared from view. . . .

"Matilda, you saw who I was with, am I right?" you asked, staring out of your window as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room.

"Yes, Princess," Matilda replied, her voice hesitant but clear.

"Do you recognize him?" you pressed, turning to face her, your curiosity mingling with a touch of apprehension.

Matilda nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. He is the youngest child of our rival, King Ferdinand's child, Prince Carlos."

A gasp escaped your lips, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion grip you. "Prince Carlos? But how... why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Matilda's eyes softened with understanding. "I didn't want to alarm you, Princess. I saw how happy you were. But you must be careful; our kingdoms have a complicated history."

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions.

If Prince Carlos had lied about his identity, how could you trust anything else he had said

The promise he made to you felt sincere at the time, but now, doubt gnawed at your heart. What if his intentions were not as pure as you had believed?

The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the once-clear path ahead now seemed clouded with uncertainty.

Yet, there was a part of you that wanted to believe in the connection you had felt with him. Despite the rivalry between your kingdoms, there had been moments of genuine warmth and understanding in your conversations.

Could it be possible that he, too, wished for peace and a way to bridge the divide?

You knew you needed to tread carefully, but the hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be more to his story than deceit kept a small flame of optimism alive within you.

Your heart ached with the weight of uncertainty. "Matilda, what should I do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Matilda stepped closer, her expression filled with empathy. "Princess, you must tread carefully. Confront Prince Carlos and seek the truth. But remember, matters of the heart are never simple, especially when they are entangled with the affairs of state. Trust your instincts, but also be prepared for whatever truths may come to light."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—fear, hope, and a lingering sense of betrayal. Matilda's words echoed in your mind, urging you to confront Prince Carlos yet cautioning you to brace for the truth.

Your heart beat erratically, torn between the desire to uncover the reality and the dread of what that reality might reveal. . . .

"Good morning, Princess," you heard Carlos say as he emerged from behind a bush, his mask still on from yesterday.

You were in your garden, the same place where Carlos had left you last night. His presence startled you, but you quickly composed yourself, determined to face him.

"Carlos," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sound of his real name, betraying a flicker of vulnerability. "I see you know the truth," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"I need to know the full truth. Why did you hide your identity from me?"

His eyes flickered with a mixture of guilt and resolve as he stepped closer, the morning light casting shadows across his masked face.

"I never intended to deceive you," he said softly.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, Carlos reached up and removed his mask, revealing a face that was both strikingly handsome and etched with sorrow. Your breath hitched at the sight, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the chiseled features and the intense eyes that had once seemed so distant.

It was as if a barrier had been lifted between you, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

"I feared that revealing my true identity would ruin the connection we had built. Our fathers have a long history of conflict, and I didn't want that to stand between us. But now, I realize that honesty is the only way forward. I hope you can understand and find it in your heart to trust me once more."

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. "Carlos, this isn't just about our fathers' past. It's about the trust between us, the foundation of any relationship," you said, your voice trembling slightly.

"You should have told me the truth from the beginning. How can I be sure there aren't other secrets you're hiding?"

Carlos looked down, his expression a mix of shame and determination. "I understand your hesitation, but I promise you, there are no more secrets. I want to build a future with you based on honesty and trust. Please, give me a chance to prove myself," he implored, reaching out to take your hand.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was sincerity and a deep longing. "Carlos, this isn't going to be easy," you said, your voice softening.

"Trust has to be earned, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again. But I want to try. I want to believe that we can overcome this, together."

Carlos's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he whispered, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to show you that my intentions are true. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, facing the world together."

You nodded, feeling a cautious optimism bloom within you.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, you both felt that it might just be possible to forge a future built on a foundation of truth and mutual respect.

"Good," you muttered, cupping his face to place a kiss on his lips.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters of this newfound honesty. But soon, it deepened with a mutual understanding that this was the first step towards mending what had been broken.

Pulling back slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing the determination etched in his gaze.

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if we're going to start fresh, maybe we should celebrate with dinner tonight. How about you cook for me? I've been dying to taste your famous paella."

Carlos chuckled, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Ah, my culinary skills, eh? You know, I only bring out my best recipes for special occasions. But for you, I think I can make an exception."

"You'd better," you teased, giving him a light nudge. "And don't think you can win me over with just food. I'm expecting some serious effort on your part."

Carlos grinned, his confidence returning. "Challenge accepted. Just wait, by the end of the night, you won't have any doubts about my commitment to us."

You both laughed, the tension easing as you basked in the warmth of this new beginning, ready to face whatever came next, together. . . .

Carlos couldn't help but sneak another glance at the grand Alfonso mansion as he crept through the garden, his heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, finally reaching the veranda where you stood waiting.

"Absolutely," you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. "I've thought about it, and I don't want to waste any more time. If we're going to build a future together, let's start now."

Carlos took a deep breath, looking deep into your eyes. "Then let's do it. Let's get married. I'll make Friar Laurence wed us tomorrow."

You nodded, feeling a rush of exhilaration. "Yes, Carlos. Let's take this leap of faith together. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just us, united in a promise to face everything hand in hand."

"Until tomorrow, princess. I can't wait to make you my wife," Carlos said, kissing your knuckles.

Your heart raced as his warm lips brushed against your skin. The way he looked at you, with such adoration and longing, sent shivers down your spine. You knew in that moment that there was no one else you'd rather spend the rest of your life with.

"I can hardly contain my excitement," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "The thought of becoming your wife fills me with such joy."

Carlos smiled, his eyes sparkling with love. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow, in front of all our loved ones, I will make you mine forever." He brought your hand to his lips once more, sealing the promise with a tender kiss.

As he reluctantly pulled away, you already felt the loss of his touch. But the knowledge that soon you would be bound to him for eternity filled you with a sense of peace and belonging.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

The next day, under the cover of dawn, you and Carlos made your way to Friar Laurence's small chapel. The early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the stone floor.

Friar Laurence stood at the altar, a knowing smile on his face as you approached. "Are you both ready to take this step?" he asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and understanding.

Carlos squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes, Friar," he replied with unwavering certainty. "We are ready to start our life together."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a swell of emotion rise in your chest.

Friar Laurence began the ceremony, his words a soothing balm to your anxious heart. As you exchanged vows, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Friar Laurence started, "Carlos and Y/N, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your union bring an end to the conflict between your families."

Carlos said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you, Friar Laurence. With this marriage, I hope my father and Y/N's father can find peace."

"As do I, Carlos. Our love will show them that there is a way forward, beyond this senseless feud."

Friar Laurence smiled, "I pray that your marriage will be the first step towards reconciliation. May God bless you both."

For those precious moments, it was just the two of you, bound by love and the promise of a future together. . . .

Later that afternoon, Carlos met with Mercutio in the secluded garden behind his family's estate. The air was filled with the scent of blooming roses and the gentle hum of bees.

Benvolio, ever the jester, was the first to speak. "Carlos, you look like a man with a secret. Do tell, what has you so radiant today?"

Carlos couldn't suppress his joy any longer. "My friend, I have wonderful news. This morning, Y/N and I were married in Friar Laurence's chapel."

Benvolio's eyes widened in surprise. "Married? So soon? But what about the feud between your families? Do they know?"

Carlos shook his head, a determined look in his eyes. "Not yet, but we hope that our union will be the catalyst for peace. We believe that our love can end this senseless conflict. Now, more than ever, we need your support and discretion."

However, he is soon stopped when he sees Tybalt Alfonso, Y/N's cousin, there arguing with Mercutio. The tension in the garden was palpable, cutting through the serene atmosphere like a knife.

Tybalt's face was flushed with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at Mercutio. "What are you doing here, Montague?"

Tybalt spat, his voice laced with venom. "This garden is not for the likes of you."

Mercutio, ever the provocateur, smirked and replied, "Oh, Tybalt, must you always be so dramatic? We're simply enjoying the lovely weather. Besides, Carlos invited us."

Carlos stepped forward, trying to diffuse the situation. "Tybalt, please, this isn't the time for old grudges."

Tybalt glared at Carlos, his eyes burning with fury. "You dare refuse my challenge?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "We are sworn enemies, and you will face me in combat!"

Carlos held up his hands, his expression calm and resolute. "I cannot, Tybalt. You are like family to me. I love you as a brother, and I will not raise my hand against you."

Tybalt's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected response. "What madness is this?" he demanded.

"We have been at odds for years, and now you claim to love me as kin?"

"It is no madness, Tybalt," Carlos replied evenly. "My heart has changed, and I see now that our feud has been a foolish and pointless thing. Let us put aside our differences and embrace as family."

Tybalt's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "You mock me with your words, Carlos," he growled.

"I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue. The time for talk is over - draw your sword and fight, or be forever branded a coward!"

"I cannot believe you refuse to fight like a true man," Mercutio spat, his eyes narrowed in frustration as Carlos once again declined the challenge.

"Do you not have the courage to face me on the battlefield?"

Carlos averted his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, Mercutio, but I have no desire to engage in such violence. Perhaps we could resolve this matter peacefully."

Mercutio scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Peaceful? Bah! You dishonour yourself and all those around you with your cowardice."

He stepped forward, his chin raised defiantly. "If you will not fight, then I shall take your place and show you how a true warrior conducts himself."

Before Carlos could protest, Mercutio had already turned to face Tybalt, his sword drawn and his stance ready.

"En garde, Tybalt!" he called out, his voice ringing with a mixture of anger and excitement. "Let us see who is the better swordsman!"

Tybalt and Mercutio drew their swords, the blades gleaming in the sunlight as they began to duel.

The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the streets as the two men traded fierce blows, their movements swift and precise.

Sensing the escalating tension, Carlos attempted to intervene, stepping between the combatants in a desperate bid to stop the fighting.

However, Tybalt, blinded by rage, lashed out with his sword, aiming to strike Carlos but instead catching Mercutio in the chest.

Mercutio cried out in pain as the blade pierced his flesh, crimson blood spilling onto the cobblestones. He staggered backward, his own sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound.

Tybalt, realising his mistake, hesitated for a moment, his expression a mix of shock and regret.

The brief pause was all Carlos needed to seize Tybalt's sword arm, wrestling the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. Mercutio, his strength fading, collapsed to his knees, his laboured breaths echoing in the stunned silence that had fallen over the scene.

Mercutio drew his final, shuddering breath, his body racked with agony. He turned to his friend Carlos, pain etched across his face.

"Alas, dear friend, I fear my end is nigh," Mercutio said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This wound, it burns like fire, sapping my strength with every passing moment."

Carlo grasped Mercutio's hand, tears welling in his eyes. "Speak not of such things, good Mercutio. You shall recover, I promise you."

Mercutio managed a weak smile. "Nay, Romeo, my time has come. Promise me, promise me you'll not forget me." Romeo nodded solemnly, a single tear cascading down his cheek.

"I shall never forget you, my dearest friend."

Carlos's heart ached with unbearable sorrow as he held Mercutio's hand tightly. "Your memory will live on in my heart forever, Mercutio," he vowed, his voice breaking.

With a final squeeze, he watched helplessly as the light faded from his friend's eyes. . . .

Carlos felt furious at Tybalt for killing Mercutio. The death of his dear friend had left him overcome with rage.

How dare Tybalt take Mercutio's life in such a callous manner? Carlos seethed with anger, his fists clenched as he replayed the tragic events in his mind.

In that moment, all Carlos could think about was avenging Mercutio. The thirst for retribution burned within him, clouding his judgment.

He knew he had to confront Tybalt, to make him pay for this heinous act. Carlos was determined to ensure justice was served, no matter the cost. His grief had morphed into a fierce, unyielding desire for vengeance.

Carlos scanned the area, his eyes narrowing as he searched for Tybalt. The coward had fled, leaving chaos and heartbreak in his wake. Carlos's rage intensified with every passing second, knowing that Tybalt had not only taken Mercutio's life but had also escaped without facing the consequences of his actions.

The thought of Tybalt's cowardice fueled his resolve, and he vowed to track him down, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.

Determined and unwavering, Carlos rose to his feet, his mind singularly focused on his mission. He would hunt Tybalt to the ends of the earth if necessary, driven by a mix of grief and fury.

The streets that once seemed familiar now felt like a labyrinth he had to navigate to find his enemy.

As he moved forward, each step was a promise to Mercutio: justice would be served, and the pain inflicted upon his friend would not go unanswered.

Carlos and Tybalt found each other in the dimly lit alleyway, the tension between the two palpable. They circled one another, eyes locked, hands gripping their weapons tightly.

Without warning, Tybalt lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air. Carlos parried the attack, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the narrow passage. The two men traded blows, their movements quick and precise, each one trying to gain the upper hand.

The fight raged on, neither man willing to back down. Tybalt's attacks grew more frenzied, his desperation fueling his strikes.

Carlos, however, remained calm and focused, his counterattacks landing with devastating precision.

In a final, desperate attempt, Tybalt made one last lunge.

But Carlos was ready, and with a swift, decisive movement, he plunged his blade deep into Tybalt's chest. Tybalt's eyes widened in shock, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Carlos stood over Tybalt's lifeless body, his chest heaving with the adrenaline of the fight. The rage that had fueled him moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a heavy, somber silence.

He glanced up at the darkened sky, a sense of emptiness washing over him as he realized that, despite his victory, the void left by Mercutio's death could never truly be filled.

Realising what he has done, Carlos fled in a panic. The weight of his actions overwhelmed him, and he knew he could not face the consequences.

The Prince arrived on the scene, his expression grave.

With a booming voice, he declared, "Carlos, your crimes for killing Tybalt are unforgivable. You are hereby banished from Aragonia, effective immediately. You must leave our lands at once and never return, lest you face the full extent of our justice."

Carlos trembled, knowing there was no arguing with the Prince's decree.

You crumpled to the floor, the news of your cousin Tybalt's death and your husband Carlos' banishment hitting you like a tidal wave. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the letter that had delivered such devastating news.

The room seemed to spin, and you felt an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The love you had for Carlos was now intertwined with the grief and anger over Tybalt's demise, leaving you torn and shattered.

Days turned into nights, and the sorrow did not relent. You wandered through your home, haunted by memories of happier times, now tainted by the tragedy that had befallen your family.

Friends and family tried to console you, but their words felt hollow, unable to bridge the chasm of pain that consumed you.

The future seemed bleak, and you struggled to find a way forward, questioning how you could ever rebuild your life with the two most important people ripped away from you.

Each moment brought a fresh wave of anguish, the love for Carlos clashing violently with the grief and anger over Tybalt's death. You found yourself trapped in an endless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to reconcile the two.

At night, when the world was quiet, the memories of Carlos's gentle touch would surface, only to be shattered by the haunting vision of Tybalt's lifeless body, leaving you torn between the man you loved and the cousin you had lost.

"Y/N! Open the window door!" you heard someone too familiar say at your balcony at night.

You were about to sleep when you ran to the balcony to see Carlos, your husband who was supposed to be banished from the kingdom for killing your cousin.

"Carlos, what are you doing here?" you asked, opening the window for him, still angry for his actions.

"Y/N, my love, I had to come back. I couldn't live without you," Carlos pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I did it to protect you. That cousin of yours was a threat, and I had to eliminate him."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Protect me? By murdering my own flesh and blood? Do you have any idea what you've done? You're a wanted man, Carlos. If they find you here, they'll kill you."

"I don't care about that," he said, reaching for your hand. "All that matters to me is you. I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to be with you."

You pulled your hand away, your heart torn between your love for Carlos and the weight of his actions. "Carlos, you have to leave. This is madness. I can't protect you, and I can't be with you, not after what you've done."

"They didn't tell anyone but your cousin killed Mercutio," Carlos muttered.

"What? That can't be true," You exclaimed, your heart racing. "My cousin would never do such a thing!"

Carlos shook his head solemnly. "I'm afraid it is true. I was there, I tried to stop them. They were trying to cover it up. I'm sorry I killed Tybalt but it was justice for Mercutio,"

You felt a sense of disbelief wash over you.

"Tell me everything, Carlos," you demanded, your voice trembling. "I need to know exactly what happened that night."

Carlos took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It all started when I was telling Mercutio about our marriage. Tybalt suddenly came out of nowhere and challenged us to fight. Tybalt lost his temper and attacked him. I tried to intervene, but it was too late. When I saw Mercutio fall, I knew I had to act."

You could see that Carlos wasn't lying through his eyes, which made you feel even worse. You walked further into your room, your hand on your face, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.

Carlos followed you, quietly closing the window behind him to ensure no one would hear your conversation.

"Y/N, I know this is difficult to accept, but I had no choice," Carlos said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't let Tybalt get away with what he did to Mercutio. Our friend needed justice, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Carlos, despite the anger and betrayal still burning within you. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the truth pressing down on you both.

"Y/N, I didn't come here to discuss bloodshed and the past," Carlos said, his voice steadying as he took a step closer to you.

"Then what did you come here to discuss?" you asked, leaning against the nearest wall to face him, your eyes searching his for answers.

"Us," he muttered, looking down at the floor. "We haven't really consummated the marriage, have we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. "Carlos, this isn't the time," you whispered, trying to hold back the storm of emotions. "Our lives are in danger, and all you can think about is us?"

Carlos raised his eyes to meet yours, determination etched in his features. "Yes, because despite everything, I love you. And I need to know if there's still a chance for us, if you still love me too."

You stood there, stunned by his confession. The love you once felt for Carlos was now tangled with the pain of recent events. "Carlos," you began, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't know if I can just forget everything that happened. Mercutio's death, the feud—it has all changed us. But I can't deny that a part of me still cares for you."

Carlos took another step closer, his eyes softening. "Then let that part guide you," he pleaded. "We can find a way through this, together. We can honor Mercutio by trying to build something better, something that isn't marred by hatred and violence."

You searched his eyes, longing to believe in the possibility of a future where love could triumph over the shadows of the past.

"Y/N, I want you," he said, his voice low and husky.

You looked up at him, your heart racing. You wanted him too, but you were still scared. . . .

"I don't know if I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling.

Carlos took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll be gentle, I promise," he said, his fingers tracing the outline of your face.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, you knew you couldn't resist him any longer. You took a deep breath and nodded, and Carlos led you inside.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Carlos pulled you close and kissed you, his lips hot and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body melting against his.

He started to undress you, his hands skillfully removing your clothes. You stood there, trembling with anticipation, as he kissed every inch of your body.

When he reached your breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You let out a moan, your body responding to his touch.

He continued to explore your body, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your pussy, he spread your lips apart and started to lick and suck, his tongue delving deep inside you.

You let out a loud moan, your body writhing with pleasure. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in to stimulate your clit.

You felt an orgasm building inside you, and you grabbed onto Carlos's head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," you moaned. "Don't stop."

He didn't stop, and soon you were crying out in pleasure, your body shaking as you came hard against his mouth.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, Carlos stood up and kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. You could taste your own juices on his lips, and it only turned you on more.

He reached down and pulled out his cock, and you could see the desire in his eyes. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he entered you in one swift motion.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you up, your body adjusting to his size. He started to thrust, slowly at first, and then faster and harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You could feel another orgasm building inside you, and you urged him on.

"Harder, Carlos," you moaned, "harder."

He responded by thrusting even harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every stroke. You let out a loud cry as you came again, your body shaking with pleasure.

Carlos continued to thrust, his own orgasm building. He let out a loud groan as he came, his hot cum filling you up.

You collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat. You kissed him, your tongues intertwined, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

"Let's run away together," you muttered breathlessly, your lips still tingling from the intensity of your kiss.

Carlos looked into your eyes, his face softening with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "You mean it?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a surge of certainty wash over you. "Yes, let's leave everything behind and start fresh, just the two of us."

Carlos smiled, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "I’ve wanted this for so long. We can go anywhere you want," he said, caressing your cheek. "Paris, Bali, or even a small cabin in the mountains. As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

You kissed him again, your decision cemented by the passion you shared, ready to embark on a new journey together.

"You stay here and rest, and I'll pack for you," he said, sitting up with a playful smirk. "I've gotten a good eye for fashion, you know."

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief and exhilaration wash over you. "Oh really? I'd love to see your choices," you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

Carlos stood up and began gathering clothes and essentials, his movements quick and efficient. "Trust me, you'll look amazing in everything I pick," he said confidently.

You watched him, a smile playing on your lips, feeling a newfound sense of freedom. "I can't wait to see where this adventure takes us," you murmured, your heart swelling with anticipation.

Carlos turned to you, holding up a sundress and a pair of sandals. "How about this for our first stop in Paris? It's perfect for a romantic stroll along the Seine," he suggested with a wink.

You giggled, nodding your approval. "I love it! And maybe a hat to go with it? We don't want to look like typical tourists," you added with a playful grin.

He chuckled, placing the outfit in the suitcase. "Consider it done. And for the mountains, I've got just the thing—cozy sweaters and boots for those chilly nights by the fireplace," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You felt a rush of warmth and affection, knowing that no matter where you went, as long as you were together, it would be perfect.

"Here's to new beginnings," you said, raising an imaginary glass, and Carlos joined in, the two of you basking in the glow of your shared dreams and the promise of endless possibilities. . . .

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, Matilda burst into your room, her face pale with panic.

"Where are you?!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear. She tore through the room, throwing open the closet doors and rifling through drawers, but all she found was an empty suitcase and a note left behind.

Matilda's hands shook as she unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. "Dear Matilda, I've decided to start a new chapter with Carlos. I hope you understand. Please don't worry about me; I'm finally following my heart. Love, [Your Name]."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew deep down that you were doing what was best for you. She took a deep breath and whispered, "Be happy," sending her silent blessings to wherever your adventure was taking you.

Matilda took a moment to collect herself, then resolved to support your decision despite her initial shock. She decided to focus on her own journey, finding solace in the thought that you were finally pursuing your happiness.

Matilda knew that breaking the news to your family would be difficult, so she opted to tell a little white lie.

Over breakfast, she calmly explained to your parents that you had taken a spur-of-the-moment business trip and would be out of touch for a while.

"It's a great opportunity for her," she said, forcing a smile. "She didn't want to worry you with the details but assured me she'd be back soon."

Your parents exchanged concerned glances but ultimately trusted Matilda's explanation. As the days turned into weeks, she continued to cover for you, providing updates and reassuring them that you were doing well.

Deep down, Matilda felt the weight of the secret she was keeping, but she knew it was what you needed.

She found strength in the hope that one day, you would return to share your incredible journey with everyone. . . .

[bumblesimagines]

The Cold Stars

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Daenerys encounters a lonesome stranger in Meereen who shares a bitter history with Ser Barriston

Pronouns: He/Him/His

TW/CW: Suicide mention

~~~

"I cannot hide behind walls forever, Ser Barriston," Dany spoke gently, dragging her eyes over the small marketplace in the city. She knew the dangers of being out in public but she had trust in Ser Barriston and Grey Worm, her loyal subordinates. They'd never allow harm to come to her, she knew that very well. Besides, she needed to show the people of Meereen that she cared and valued them. Trust had to be earned, not given freely. So, despite the worries expressed to her by Ser Barriston and Daario, she marched forth into the marketplace, eager to see what her people were selling. 

"I know, Your Grace," Ser Barriston sighed quietly, his eyes just as diligent and alert as Grey Worm's, bouncing around from cart to face in search of anyone with less-than-innocent motives. Most of the people watched them silently, the caution on their faces making Dany frown. She needed their loyalty, not their fear. She couldn't comprehend it well. She freed them from their masters, breaking the chains that made them slaves and they'd seemingly loved her for it. But the hesitation and unhappiness on some of their faces made her heart twist. 

"Do you think King's Landing will receive me like this?" Dany asked the older, more experienced man as they rounded a corner, slipping out of the market into an alleyway, her head angled over her shoulder to peer back at the two. Ser Barriston's lips parted to respond but his eyes flickered away and Dany noticed Grey Worm reaching for his sword. Her head snapped forward, preparing herself for the worst only to notice the young man leaning against the wall with an apple in hand, his eyes-

His eyes...

Cold and displeased and undeniably violet. Her mind flickered back to Viserys, to the mentions of her parents and Rhaegar, to all the portraits she'd seen of her ancestors and all the stories told about them. She felt as if the air had been knocked out of her, and she suddenly yearned for her family, for the mother that died moments after having her, and the father that earned the title of Mad King. For Rhaegar and even cruel Viserys. But the man before them lacked the notable silver hair and appeared more... Dornish.

"(Y/N) Dayne," Ser Barriston gaped, eyes large and pale skin as if he'd seen a ghost. "You... are a long ways from home, child."

"As are you, Selmy." His bitter voice seemed to jolt Ser Barriston, his mouth clamping shut and bushy brows knitting together. (Y/N) raised the apple to his lips and dug his teeth into the crunchy fruit, a trickle of juice dripping down his chin. He chewed slowly as he studied each of them, his hardened gaze only momentarily growing indifferent when he turned his attention to the perplexed Grey Worm. "You are far from King's Landing, Ser. As are you, Targaryen."

"You are in the presence of Queen Daenerys Stormborn, child, you will refer to her as such. Your brother fought fiercely for the Targaryens during the rebellion."

"And he died." (Y/N) licked his lips, the apple beginning to crack and drip with juices under his grasp. The bitterness, near hatred in his eyes sent a chill down Dany's spine, yet she found herself unable to tear her own eyes away from his face. "You claim to have loved and respected Arthur and Ashara but where were you when they died? Where were you when Stark slaughtered my brother and my sister threw herself into the sea?" 

"I would've given my life for either of them, you know that." Ser Barriston responded sharply, almost bristling at the silent accusation. 

"You would've given your life for the Prince." Her trance broke immediately at the mention of her brother, of the man Ser Barriston always recalled fondly. Her lips pulled back into a deep frown and (Y/N) turned his attention onto her. "You should've been willing to give your life for Elia and her children. That Targaryen-" The sneer when he spoke said plenty of his opinions on her family. "-abandoned them to die like a coward."

"Mind your tongue!" 

"My siblings are dead because of him!" (Y/N) snapped back at the knight, the apple finally breaking under his hold, different parts flying around while some of it turned to mush in his palm. Dany flinched and stepped back, one piece sliding right up to her feet and almost disappearing beneath the skirt of her dress. (Y/N) shook his hand and scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and barely sparing Grey Worm a glance when he stepped in front of Dany defensively. Ser Barriston's shoulders sagged, the fury dying immediately. "If he'd done his duty as a husband, Allryia, Aran, and I wouldn't be mourning them, Ser."

Dany raised her hand and placed it over Grey Worm's shoulder, meeting his questioning gaze with a reassuring nod. He stepped aside, allowing Dany to step forward, her shoe kicking aside the apple piece before she lifted her head to look at him once more. "Why have you come here, Lord (Y/N)? If not to ally yourself with me, why?"

"To see if the rumors were true. They say you have dragons and you'll use them to take back the Iron Throne. Ashara told me stories of dragons when I was a child. Elia, too. Dorne fought back against them during your ancestor's conquest."

"I have no qualms with Dorne," Daenerys told him softly. "And I am sorry for your losses. I am not my father nor my brothers. I wish to do things differently. The Lannisters, a common enemy between us, rule Kings Landing, do they not? We can ensure they will not bring harm to anyone else, not under my rule. House Dayne of Starfall is a noble house in Dorne with... close ties to the Martells of Sunspear. As I know it, the Martells despise Lannisters as well."

"Why would we fight for you? Justice is a mere action when you'd be getting the Iron Throne. Dorne has been at peace for many years."

"Perhaps..." Dany paused and glanced toward Ser Barriston. The older man met her gaze with an arched brow and a curious, almost concerned glint in his eye. She pursed her lips. She needed stronger allies, she needed angry allies... and even queens require heirs. "Perhaps House Dayne would be more pleased if one of their own became King Consort of Westeros." 

(Y/N)'s eyes only narrowed in response. The crown would be tempting to any man, especially one of noble birth, but he only appeared annoyed by the offer. "I'm afraid my brother, Lord Aran Dayne, is content with his wife, and Edric is far too young to marry. I've had the freedom of being the youngest all my life. Why would I give it up to become a king when I can do whatever I please?"

"Kings do whatever they please, do they not?"

"Kings like Robert Baratheon and Aerys Targaryen, sure. Your brother did whatever he pleased as prince and plunged the kingdom into war. Rulers do what the people want, what they need. You haven't exactly been keeping your people happy, Daenerys. Dorne will only ally themselves if we know we'll win. You may have your army but Tywin Lannister and his dog have been commanding far longer than you and I have been alive. Prince Doran will never allow a child parading themselves as ruler of a city anywhere near Dorne's army. You'll have better luck asking for Prince Oberyn's hand in marriage."

"It almost sounds as if you believe you can do a better job than me... if so, join my council. You'll have your freedom and when the time comes, you'll have your justice. Perhaps then, you'll feel more inclined to accept my proposal. I know Dorne is known for its... queer customs. You view bastards as equal, women are seen as fine rulers, and having multiple lovers is common. Many have their opinions of Dorne but... I'd be rather happy with a Dornishman. I will grant you the freedom of doing as you please, if you become my consort, as long as we have a-" Her voice nearly broke, forcing her to pause again and clear her throat. "A healthy heir. What do you say now, Dayne?"

[moonselune]

Hey! Could you write something about jealous Gale, Wyll and Astarion, please? 💕 (Thank you!!)

jealous jealous boyyyyyyy I loved this so muchhhhhhh jealous prompts just make my brain go brrrrrr

Gale:

You had always admired Gale's prowess with magic. His spells were elegant, his incantations precise. Yet, on this particular day, as you walked through the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a different mage approached you, offering to teach you a new spell.

"Allow me," the mage said smoothly, his eyes lingering on you with more interest than was purely professional.

You hesitated, intrigued by the promise of new knowledge. Gale, walking beside you, stiffened noticeably. His jaw clenched as he watched the mage perform a simple cantrip, showing off a minor illusion with a flourish.

After the mage walked away, leaving you with a scroll and a promise to meet again, Gale turned to you, his eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy. "Why would you need someone else to teach you magic?" he asked, his voice tight.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tucked the scroll into your pack. "Gale, my love, are you jealous?"

"Of course not. It's just… I know your capabilities and it’s insulting to see someone else presume to teach you as if you were an amateur." He huffed, crossing his arms defensively. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"You know you're the only teacher I could ever have," you said softly, looking up into his eyes. You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, moving to hover over his ear. "Your lessons are much more intimate and attentive."

His tense posture relaxed slightly, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as a small blush bloomed across his cheeks.

"Very well, then," he said, his tone warming as he pulled you to his side, a hand snaking around your waist, "I have a few new spells in mind that I think you’ll find quite invigorating"

Wyll:

The vibrant melodies of a bard's lute filled the air as you walked through the marketplace. The bard's eyes lit up when he saw you, and he began to serenade you with a heartfelt tune. Before you knew it, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, stood nearby, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the bard's antics. The bard spun you around gracefully, and for a moment, you were caught up in the music and the joy of the dance. But just as the bard pulled you closer, Wyll stepped in, intercepting the dance with a fluid, graceful motion.

"May I cut in?" Wyll asked, his voice polite but firm, not waiting for an answer as he took your hand and led you away from the bard.

You smiled up at him, amused by the possessive edge in his movements. "Wyll, are you jealous?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Jealous? No, no. Gentlemen don't get jealous."

You pretended to believe him, nodding solemnly. "Of course, how silly of me. I'm glad I have such a composed and unaffected partner."

Wyll smiled, spinning you around before pulling you close again. "Just remember who your real dance partner is," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning.

You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his lips, but to your surprise he dipped you over his leg and deepened it. Kissing you passionately before lifting you back up. You giggled and pressed your face to his chest in slight embarrassment, trying to hide your rosy red cheeks. He laughed and put a hand on your back, definitely not sending a glare to the bard who had seen the whole thing.

Astarion:

Astarion had always been charmingly possessive, but today his jealousy was more biting. As you spoke with an attractive merchant, Astarion's eyes darkened with jealousy. Later, when you returned to him, he greeted you with a cold, cutting remark.

"Enjoying your time with every attractive stranger who crosses your path?" he sneered, his eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Or are we just so deperate for attention that we will take any measly means of it."

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. He had been acting like this all afternoon and you had had enough. "What is your problem, Astarion? Why are you being so foul?"

Instead of answering, he turned away, his shoulders tense. You threw your hands up in the air in frustration and stormed off, your heart heavy with hurt. You walked a few metres outside of camp, Scratch diligently following you, and sat on a fallen tree. Scratch put his head in your lap as you stroked him for comfort.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps behind you. Astarion appeared, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a look of remorse. Scratch let out a low growl, the dog being rather attached to you and sensing how this was going to play out.

You didn't look at him, just remained petting Scratch and looking out into the forest. "What do you want Astarion, or are you just here to shame me some more?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness and trembled with an emotion he was unfamiliar with - guilt? Shame? "I was out of line."

You stopped petting Scratch and turned to him, your eyes searching his. He looked downtrodden and overall quite pathetic, his usual bravado nowhere to be seen. "Why do you do this, Astarion? Why do you push me away when you're jealous?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and he walked to you, dropping to his knees. Scratch eyed him with slight irritation as he pushed him out of his spot, but he soon became distracted by a squirrel that ran across the path and he left the two of you to it.

"It's because I care about you more than I care to admit. The thought of losing you to someone else.... it.. it.. terrifies me. Please, I can't lose you" Astarion begged, as he held your hands in your lap, looking up at you with wet red eyes.

You softened, leaning towards him, brushing a strand of his pale curled locks behind his ear. "You won't lose me, Astarion. But you need to trust me."

He nodded, resting his head in your lap. "I know. I promise I'll try to be better. Just… don't ever leave me."

You combed your fingers through his hair, a small smile on your lips as you felt the sincerity in his words. "I won't. Not ever."

my hands slipped and I accidentally made Astarion's a bit angsty - or should I say Ass-starion, am I right.?... I'll leave now.. - Seluney xoxox

[dumbsoftheart]

threads of fate

pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x preachers daughter!reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, heavy and dark religious themes, dark themes, fingering, kissing, swearing, sliiight voyerism, corruption and innocence kink,

summary: after a chase in the woods, coriolanus becomes devoted to making you his one and only follower.

notes: i don't know what came over me.. enjoy!

word count: 7.2k

౨ׅৎ

the blood of the lamb, washed over the sins of those strayed away from god, atones those begging to be spared from destruction. the saccharine ichor was the ultimate gateway towards deliverance- and thus sought out by sinners and saints alike to be granted eternal redemption for the transgressions that permeated the sweats and tears of the individuals whose secrets would have them damned to the dreadful inferno beneath their feet. the sweet lamb; symbol of innocence and purity, and the wolf who hunted it, the face of deception and treachery, stood now in the heart of the woodlands, the sweet kill hidden shamefully in the asylum of the crowded aspen as it’s predator tauntingly whistled in pursuit of it’s coveted prize. 

tears fell in a waterfall down into the vessels of your collarbones, trailing down and staining the frail white fabric of your dress, unveiling the soft tanned skin of your chest in its wake. with one hand clasped tightly against your mouth, you tried to conceal your wails of fear and the threatening thumping of your heart so as not to draw attention to the towering figure looming dangerously close to you, chuckling lowly as he carefully made his way through the maze of trees and forestry. your other hand was clutched desperately on the golden cross that hung around your neck, thumb haphazardly caressing the delicate engravings and etchings of the cool metal. 

hail mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus. holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.

shame washed over you as you thought of your mother and father- your dear father, and what they would make of your inevitable disappearance. you were taught the way of the lord since you emerged from your mothers womb; it followed you everywhere you went. by all means, you had lived your life for god himself. what would he think of you now? the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of god. and yet there you were, a thief, running from, no doubt, god’s punishment for your sins. 

despite your fathers widespread fame throughout the district, your family struggled to bring food and water to the table regularly. seeing the despair that clouded your mothers eyes as she failed to provide a dinner some nights for her family had driven you towards madness. you grew desperate- desperate to alleviate the stress that haunted her and satiate the hunger that settled in your stomach for the fifth day in a row. you rationalised, that with your undying devotion, god would find it in him to forgive you. with all the work your father put into his sermons and dedication to delivering god's word to the poverty stricken peoples of district 12, the divine being would be forgiving in his punishment in recognition of the loyalty you harboured. 

now, you knew you were wrong. 

you berate yourself for even entertaining the stupid idea of pilfering from the small bakery near the marketplace. in truth, it wasn’t even stealing. you had waited until dark threatened the sky, then snuck behind the establishment to snatch a few meagre, stale loaves that had been carelessly discarded in a small bin beside the refuse receptacles. combined with the butter you had been gifted earlier in the week, these provisions would barely suffice to stifle the persistent pangs in your stomach for a few days, at most. you naively assumed you were in solitude and hastily fled when you’d filled up your small leather bag with as many old rolls and loaves as possible. 

oh, how wrong could you have been? you never caught sight of the face of the man who now charged after you- only a faint glance at a familiar blue that weaved its way through the trees- but the adrenaline rushing through your veins urged you to run, and to never stop. and now, here you were, caught in the act, pathetically weeping as you waited for the repercussions of your actions to find you. 

you moved to press your back harder against the thin trunk of the tree, a twig snapping under the weight of your foot, and your eyes widened with fear as the sound reverberated against the still of the forest, the soft footsteps that trailed behind you coming to an abrupt stop. then, a voice. 

“my dear, it would make it so much easier for us if you just came out. i promise you, i don’t bite.” it purred. the way he spoke was low and unrecognisable, laced with an amusement that had you shiver with the depravity of it. your crying ceased at an attempt to remain as hidden as possible, nary a whimper escaping from behind the painful grip of your hand across your mouth. 

“i know you know what you did was wrong. i mean, stealing from a bakery? i wonder what your father would think of you now, his daughter a thief.”

you fought back tears at the mention of your father, shame once again weighing at your conscience, “come out, and i promise your punishment won't be as harsh as it should be.”

the proposition had you thinking for a bit, the truth behind the words appealing to you for a sliver of a moment. before you could consider your next step; find an out or comply to the omnipresent man’s offering, a gunshot pierces your ears, and you let out a shriek so loud you swore all of panem could hear you.

you begin to wail again then, uncontrollably, screaming and begging for respite as your body gave in under the weight of itself; your knees buckling and falling harshly against the ground. you shake with the ferocity of a small rodent before you’re pulled up by your shoulders and engulfed into a familiar, warm hug. your eyes wide with panic, you thrash your head back in forth in an attempt to find the man who was tormenting you, only to see that he was now gone, and in his place, a small search party lead by a peacekeeper cheered in glory at the sight of you. relief washed over you as you looked up to find your father, falling into the safety of his arms as he escorted you out of the forest, giving a curt thank you to the peacekeeper and another man you recognized to be one of your fathers students, before dragging you to the comfort of your home. 

౨ׅৎ

when your father found out the reason behind your being in the woods, you’d landed yourself a life of extra chores and punished to more frequent church visits until your father decided you had repent enough. your father, reassuring you of god's forgiveness as his child, warned that your actions wouldn't fade from memory. he emphasised the necessity of restoring your relationship with the lord and savior. you were under his constant watch, now. each morning, before dropping you off at school, he compelled you to pray fervently for protection over your family and yourself, urging you to plead for deliverance from the consequences of your actions.

with your increased presence in church taking up most of the time you had to yourself, you found yourself taking note of the other frequent church goers. your father, of course, and his dedicated student, were a constant in your peripheral vision. the old couple who lived only a few minutes away from you, mrs. harmon and her froofy, dirty church outfits, her boisterous children, and her grumbling husband. you noticed small things; like how the wife of the newly-wed couple in town had stopped wearing her wedding ring, and how her husband seemed to never give her a second look. how the twin boys in the grade below you suddenly surpassed you in height, and their younger sister now seemed to lack a certain innocence that was pertinent in her character before. you made a small promise to yourself to pray for her. 

there was one person, however, who you were not familiar with, yet you could feel it in the deep ends of your bones that you knew exactly who he was. he had begun to appear only once a week, his shiny buzzcut and blue peacekeeper uniform sticking out sorely from the rest of the crowd. then, twice a week- then three- and then suddenly you found you could not escape from him. everywhere you turned, he was there. when you walked home from school, you would catch him patrolling somewhere nearby, or laughing and chatting with his peacekeeper friends. when you opened the church doors for mass, he would be first to walk in, handing you a small smile before making his way to sit in the pew farthest away from you. he was there, everywhere you looked, and it unsettled you greatly. there was a lack of sincerity in his eyes when he smiled, and for a moment you thought that it had seemed like hunger, but you pushed the idea away before your brain could process it. one night, when closing the church doors and heading to your home, the small sound of rapid footsteps triggered your fight or flight response, the latter winning. when the man rested his hand on your shoulder politely, handing you a handkerchief you had dropped, you felt a strange sense of deja vu. the speed at which it sounded he had ran towards you didn’t match how he stood before you now; breathing even, chest pushed out pridefully, his dark sapphire eyes never leaving yours. but you were so sure that the man had been sprinting, just like the man who had sprinted after you a few weeks ago had. you gave him a small thank you before speed-walking your way to the front door, panting heavily as you locked it shut behind you and your hand made its way back to the pendant on your neck, grasping it so tightly it hurt, the stipe digging into the soft flesh of your palms as a way of grounding yourself back to your senses. 

that night, when you got on your knees to pray, you couldn’t shake the look on the mans face from your thoughts. his features themselves were even, lacking any sense of emotion, but his eyes troubled you the most. the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you would burst into flames right then. it made you feel as if there was something he wanted from you, but your poor innocent soul couldn’t figure out what. when you nestled yourself into your bed that same night, you vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. 

you hadn't realised how hard that would be. 

he approached you the next morning. it was saturday, and the usual gloomy weather of district 12 had been forced away and replaced with the harsh, bright sunlight. it shone spectacularly through the stained-glass windows, gracing the dark wood of each side aisle with vibrant reds and yellows and blues  and brightening the deep red carpet that lay evenly along the nave. you stood behind the pulpit, readying your fathers sermons and homilies for that week's sabbath. he had barged in unannounced, making his way towards you slowly as you pretended to ignore the tall figure making its way down the red path. 

“good morning, miss,” he spoke lowly towards you, peering upwards slightly as the pulpit was slightly taller than the rest of the church, and you pretended to read through the cards and flip through your bible as if it were you preparing to speak in a mere 15 minutes. he cleared his throat once, and you waved your hand nonchalantly towards the pews, “the preacher will be ready shortly. please, have a seat.” 

from behind your fathers flashcards, you could see a small tick of his jaw and he pressed his lips together tightly, nodding slowly before making his way to his usual seat, feigning interest in the architecture of the building. 

“its quite beautiful, no?”

you hummed. 

“i wonder how the district could afford to pay for it.”

the comment caught you off guard, causing you too look up at him with scrunched brows, your lips parted in confusion. surely, he knew the capitol had paid for it- and even then, what did it matter? a sanctuary for god deserved only the best of resources, you thought. the beauty of the church was a reflection of the beauty of your religion, the intricacies and meticulous carpentry of the building spoke to one of the three transcendentals that point to god. of course, it would be beautiful. 

before you could think of a response to the bizarre musing, your father burst in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek and thanking you kindly for preparing for him. the man stood up to make his way to greet the preacher, and you were out of sight as fast as lightning. 

that cycle continued for a while. he would sit in the pews, admiring the architecture (when really, he was admiring you), then stand to greet your father enthusiastically, frowning ever so slightly when you disappeared the moment he made any closer to your father. eventually, you had become quite good at avoiding him. you saw him less in the markets, saw less of him in church, and rarely caught sight of him anywhere else. that was, until you found him at your doorstep one hot summer day. 

you and your mother swore it was the hottest day to see district 12, and you sat on the porch in a small, lace trimmed top and cut-off jean shorts. your hair was carelessly tossed into an updo to relieve your neck of some heat, and you sat in your fathers old chair as you sipped on some juice your family had been given earlier that day. 

you weren’t expecting any visitors that day, so it was safe to say you nearly choked when the man appeared from behind the path of thrush that hid your small home from sight of the church, dressed only in the blue dress pants of his peacekeeper uniform and a thin white shirt, silver dog tag swinging like a pendulum across his chest as he made his way towards you. your father had emerged delighted, mr. snow!, he cheered, patting the man- snow, what a fitting name- on his back and urging him inside. you scrambled to the backdoor and into the kitchen where your mother rest, the door slamming behind you loudly as you entered, causing her to jump. 

“dear?”

“that man daddy’s talking to- who is he?”

she gave you a halfhearted shrug, “i wouldnt know, pumpkin, it’s probably business with your father. he goes to the church, no?” 

you nodded, pacing back and forth, ignoring the crazed look your mother threw at you as you processed the information. 

“do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” she reminded you, and your jaw dropped at the silent accusation she threw at you. 

“absolutely not, mother!” you stormed back out the door, drowning your mother’s laughter out with frustrated mumbles of has she lost her mind? and what a woman! how she could ever think something about snow was tempting you was beyond your understanding. however, when you made it back to your chair and your watered down glass of juice, the sight of a shirtless ‘mr. snow’ and your, otherwise fully dressed, father in the garden, dripping sweat shamelessly into your mothers vegetable patch, a snap thought breached your mind that perhaps there was something tempting about the mysterious man. 

that sent you into a frenzy. your knee bounced anxiously as you silently begged god to forgive you for the thought, and that it was simply intrusive, and not reflective of the morals and high grounds you held closely to your heart. nervously, you grabbed the book you had abandoned weeks ago and shoved your nose into the pages as if to distract yourself from your own brain and its wicked ministrations.  

you weren't sure of how much time had passed, yet it felt like the man's stay was suspiciously short as he and your father made their way inside. you gave him a curt nod, and your father gave you a small lecture about manners, insisting that the two of you become accustomed to one another. and there you were, legs drawn up to your chest as if to protect yourself from the sinful looking man before you. 

“my name is coriolanus snow,” he said. coriolanus. it was unlike any name you’d heard before. you returned the gesture softly, hoping that he would disappear behind your father into the house and you could breathe again, but he stayed and stared at you with that look, “your father tells me we’re the same age. he’s a nice man.”

you bit your lip at that. the same age? there was something about coriolanus that seemed older. it also begged the question: what was someone his age doing as a peacekeeper? you opened your mouth to pry at him, but he cut you off, stepping closer. 

“tell me, dear, what sins weigh in your heart?” 

you drew yourself back further into the safety of your chair, face laced with disgust as you tried as hard as possible to distance yourself from the imposing man now caging you into your confinement. his breath was heavy on your nose, and your heart pounded harshly- from what, you weren’t sure. fear? a sense of danger? temptation? his lips were so close to yours now, you could smell the faint scent of cologne that mingled with the saltiness of his sweat, and you tried your best to keep your breathing as even as possible, feigning indifference to his proximity to you poorly. 

“i dont know what you mean, mr. snow.”

he smiled at that, laughing lowly. he didn’t expect you to know what he meant, of course, but he had an inkling that if he played his cards just right, he’d have you right where he wanted. he leaned closer now, lips dodging yours, lightly brushing your nose as his head turned to whisper in your ear. 

“do you think of me at night? our little chase?”

“wh-what?”

“you’re smart, miss. think about it.”

he disappeared into the house, bidding goodbye to your mother and father and whisking himself away. your mouth remained parted, eyes wide with confusion as you tried to process what his words could have meant. 

surely, he couldn’t mean.. 

no. absolutely not, you decided. coriolanus may have unsettled you ungreatly, but he was a peacekeeper- and your father had always told you that they served to protect you, that they would never harm you purposely. you stood shakily and made your way quietly into the old house, reeking of old wood and boiled vegetables. you sat on the couch near your brother, holding his head to your chest as you stroked his hair comfortingly, still trying to process. from the kitchen, your father called, “he’s a nice boy, no? perhaps he could be of some influence to you, sweetheart.” 

you agreed meekly, despite disagreeing with your father completely. you werent entirely sure what he saw in the man at all, yet you were adamant that he was, in fact, not a good influence, but a parasite. you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. he made you feel unsafe- unsure of yourself, and for some reason, your faith. you decided he was no good; but yet you couldnt make any understanding of the bittersweet ache between your thighs. 

when coriolanus walked home that evening, he couldn’t fight his smile. he saw you, in all his glory, struggling pathetically under his gaze, squirming and fidgeting uncontrollably as he trapped you within the cage of his arms. 

the sacrificial lamb has been caught, he thought. 

what a stupid, stupid lamb. 

౨ׅৎ

you rushed into church near 5 am the next day, sleep deprived from the constant running of your mind and the damned words of coriolanus snow. 

“our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” you repeated to yourself, kneeled below the large wooden crucifixion of jesus, hands clasped tightly together, your head resting painfully against the white of your knuckles. 

what you were praying for, you didn’t know. you couldn't go to the confessional- heavens forbid, no. confessing secrets of your dreams of coriolanus’s hands, the outline of his jaw, the way he whispered his sinister words so sweetly into your ear- to your father? you would rather be hanged for the whole district to see. there was nothing sinful about your dreams, exactly, but it felt sinful, dirty, downright hellish. you thought of his lips, the soft and pink flesh of them, the stormy blue of his eyes- and, oh god, you couldn't stop replaying his words in your head. 

‘do you think of me at night?’ he had asked you so earnestly. as if he needed you to tell him yes, you did think of him, every night. it wasn't a lie, of course, only the way you had begun thinking about him had changed. but that wasn't your doing at all, was it? no, he was to blame, for speaking to you like that, for dangling his dog tag so close that it brushed your cross indecently, for showing up to your house and stripping himself half naked, sweating impurely over the soil you and your mother sowed and reaped with love, with innocence, purity. it was entirely his fault, from the way he seemed to be forcing himself into your life. the church door creaked open, and you continued to pray, “give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

your heart raced as footsteps neared closer, as if you knew exactly who they belonged to. 

“what troubles you, little lamb?” his voice took you with fear, the way it rumbled in his chest and reverberated on the walls confining the two of you, alone. you raised your head, refusing to look back at him, “i do believe that's none of your concern, mr. snow.”

you heard him chuckle lowly, repeating the words mr. snow to himself under his breath. it made you shiver, and you recited the bible verses your father drilled into your head from as young as you could remember: vindicate me, o god, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation; rescue me from deceitful and wicked men.

you could feel him now, knee pressed lightly against your back. you stood up and turned to face him, eyes wild and daring as they searched the azure maze of his own. his hand reached to stroke your hair, and you flinched. 

“why is it that you fear me so much, do you think?”

“i’m not afraid of you.”

he tsked, “‘fear’ is different than ‘being afraid’, darling. to be afraid is a fleeting moment. your brain's immediate response towards danger,” he moved to touch your hair again, now more forcefully, tucking the loose strands along your hairline behind your ear. 

keep back your servant also from willful sins.

he continued, “i asked, why do you fear me?”

you tried to search deeper into his eyes, trying to grasp any understanding at what he was trying to communicate to you. your mind ran amok, and it was no help that coriolanus's hand now snuck its way into your fingers, fidgeting with the soft digits mindlessly. 

“i don't.. i don't know-” he cut you off by stepping closer before you finished. you had wanted to tell him that you didn't know why he thought you feared him, that you didnt understand the question, and that you needed to get home soon, so to please excuse you. 

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

you let out an involuntary laugh, giggling childlishly at the accusation. you stopped, when his eyes darkened. 

“i’m sorry, mr. snow, but i really don’t know what you mean!” you were struggling to contain your girlish giggles. what he imposes between me and god? it was such a bizarre statement, so plainly laid out for you, that you couldn’t even comprehend it entirely. your laughing ceased, for good now, when his hand circled tightly around your wrist. 

let them not have dominion over me.

then i will be upright.

“i’m not stupid, love. i saw you, yesterday, practically drooling over me. i wonder what your father would have to say if he saw the sinful way you ogled at me,” he paused, and you swallowed painfully, “and dont tell me you’ve forgotten all about our little chase, hm? wasnt it exhilarating?” now, panic engulfed you. you tried to back away from him as the pieces etched themselves together in your brain, but his hold on your wrist was only getting tighter. 

“that was you?” your voice was impossibly small, weak from the alarm that blared in your head. your eyes darted back and forth desperately, searching for an out, hoping and praying that someone might burst in and see the scene before you, tear hades away from his persephone and save her from her impending doom. 

i will be blameless and innocent of great transgression.

he dipped his head to your neck, lips deliciously grazing over the supple skin of your collar bone, pressing kisses so light you could barely feel them as you tried to wriggle from his grasp. 

“of course it was me, darling,” the way you felt him smile against your skin was chilling, and you fought back tears as he moved impossibly closer to you, “isn’t that adrenaline rush just addicting? tell me, dove, what do you think about me when you lie in bed and replay our precious little moments together in that pretty head of yours?” 

your breathing quickened, and you winced as coriolanus gripped tighter at your wrist, his other hand painfully gripping the small of your waist, massaging the gentle muscle of it. you could feel his entire body pressed against yours, and a tear threatened to slip when you felt the hard pressing of his lower region on your stomach. you shook your head, refusing to give in to his line of questioning, but his grip on your waist tightened and you cried out in pain, “your hands!” you whined, relief slowly making its way to the sore area of your waist as he loosened his grip. he made to grasp your chin under his index, forcing you to keep eye contact with him and urged you silently to keep going. 

“your..” you let out a shaky sigh, “your h-ands, your voice, the words you speak to me. i don't understand why.” 

he cooed at you now, as if proud of you for speaking up. your eyes darted to his lips, and you saw something flash in his eyes, “anything else?”

let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight,

lord, my rock, and my redeemer. 

you tried to look down at your feet as if to run away from the question, but his hold on your chin was unrelenting. shamefully, you whispered, “your lips.” 

he let out a small ahhh, as if the admission shocked him. he knew, of course. of course he knew. you poor thing. sweet, little lamb, so innocent and pure. untouched by lust, blind to its deceptive allure. he knew from the moment he’d gone after you in those woods and failed to catch you, that he would do everything in his power to make sure you would never escape his grasp again. he knew when his frail attempts at getting closer to you failed, he had to resort to a harsher solution. he needed to infiltrate every space you breathed in, and break his was into your mind until he had you right where he needed you to be: malleable, so he could corrupt you just as easy. 

he knew your father protected you, the extent to which he went to protect you, as well. banning sex education in your school, ensuring your mind stays as pure as possible to the exploits of fickle men and their wants. you knew the basics, thanks to your mother and her worrisome self, but her teachings were meddled down into some confusing allegory that left your mind as clueless as before, so that you stayed intact, perfect and pristine in the lords eye as well as the rest of the district, in your white frilly dresses, light makeup, and perfectly crafted manners. 

he knew how easy it would be to get in your head. the human body is funny, like that, wherein it begs for things it doesn’t know of. he knew when he flexed his hands you caught sight of it, when he swallowed you intently watched the way his adams apple bobbed, he knew when he showed up to your home and stripped himself almost bare it would plague your mind with an unknowing want and desire, and soon enough, you’d have no choice but to give in to it, abandon your god and his lessons for coriolanus alone. 

he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, swiping his thumb across yours as if to mirror himself, and then ducked his head closer, “go on.”

you squeezed your eyes shut. everything felt so, so wrong, and you didn't know why, but you couldn't stop. when he continued to toy with your lip, slightly plunging the tip of his finger past them and into your mouth, you let out an involuntary, small moan, and your legs shook and quivered as the strange ache from yesterday returned. 

“wh-what?”

“kiss me.”

your eyes widened, and you shook your head. coriolanus thought it was adorable, how you struggled to piece together what was about to happen, how your brain tried desperately to fill in the blanks with information it didnt know. you heard coriolanus sigh disapprovingly at your protests and he shoved his thumb further into your mouth, causing you to choke. he removed it, then wiped the saliva that remained over your bottom lip before inserting the digit in his mouth, tasting you. 

“its okay, little one. you can kiss me. he wont mind,” you didnt realize your fingers lingered over the necklace nestled on your chest, and your gaze followed his finger as he gestured upwards. he wont mind. you racked your brain over the things coriolanus said to you from he entered the church.

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

now, you truly hoped someone would burst in, and you could scream and wail as you explained the horrors coriolanus was about to commit to you (even if those horrors were unclear). he was so close, and something still pressed hardly against your stomach, and suddenly you couldn't breathe, “he would mind. i promise to pray for you coriolanus, i don't know what troubles you, but the lord-” 

he cut you off by shoving his lips onto yours harshly, groaning at the contact. his hands made their way to rest on your clothed breasts, and you wriggled and struggled to try get away from him, but your efforts were fruitless. you were cornered, now. a lamb with nowhere to run or hide, forced to face its fate. he ravaged your lips, hands restless as they caressed all over your protesting body. the ache between your legs grew, and a small part of you realized that the last thing you wanted right now was for someone to walk in, and see the preacher's daughter being completely defaced by a peacekeeper. 

“your god cant give me what i need, angel. cant you see? you did this to me,” his hand grabbed yours as he pulled away to speak, trailing it down the hard muscle of his abdomen and palming the hardness that threatened to burst through the seam of his pants. your eyes were wide and doe-like, and coriolanus never needed to fuck you more. his lips met yours again, and his other hand fumbled to remove his pants, hissing when the air hit his straining cock, all while you tried your best to distance yourself from him as much as possible. your face was hot, and your hands remained in the air, unsure of where to rest them, as you slowly allowed coriolanus to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

“good girl,” he practically growled, and you let out a pathetic squeak when you felt your core tighten, pleasure washing over you at the small praise. coriolanus was turned on beyond conception, moaning disgracefully as he stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear. if you could see the spectacle the two of you were making, in the middle of church- no less, the thought alone had coriolanus close to the edge. you gasped when you saw him palm himself, and without thinking, your hand brushing his ever so slightly, lingering a second too long before his eyes snapped up at yours, pleading you to go ahead and touch him. 

when you finally pressed your hand to his clothed region, you swore the way coriolanus threw his head back with a small mewl and moan would land you an eternity in hell alone. 

“thats it, baby, jus’ like that.. keep going..” you gasped when his hand sneaked its way under your dress- your sunday best- your hand faltering a bit when his long middle finger lightly grazed your clothed cunt. the foreign feeling it elicited from you had you desperately searching coriolanus’s eyes for an answer, unable to speak as his fingers that toyed with the most intimate parts of you had you moaning softly and lowly, uncontrollably. you continued to palm him, and his hand slipped into the lacy cotton of your panties, cursing hotly under his breath when he feels you. 

“so wet for me. you dirty fucking girl, look at you: making a mess in church.” you didnt know what he meant, but shame burned through your skin. confusion grappled at you and you began to sob, not ignoring the way your tears seemed to make coriolanus throb beneath you, “please stop, coriolanus, this is immoral.”

“baby, if it feels good, then it cant be bad,” he stroked the tear stains on your cheek softly, cupping your face with false earnest as he pulled your head to lay on his chest, “does it feel good?”

coriolanus reveled in the way you looked up at him, like a devoted follower in the arms of their saviour. when you nodded slowly, he gently spun you around and shoved your face into the cool wood of the crucifixion behind you, his hand painfully pushing against your cheek enough so that you couldn't look anywhere but above you, into the sad eyes of jesus. 

your panties were ripped off with a shriek that was muffled by coriolanus’s hand around your mouth, and you sobbed as pain mixed with pleasure as he gave a few slaps to your dripping cunt, mumbling about how pretty it is. in a desperate attempt to wiggle out of your new position, you accidentally arched your back further, giving him more access. 

“let me show you how i can love you,” he whispered into your ear, before returning his fingers to the slick mess that coated your cunt, your body jolting when they occasionally brushed over your clit, the unfamiliar sensation already too overwhelming for you to handle. with a few more agonising strokes of his fingers, he prodded at your hole, teasing your entrance in a way that had your eyes roll to the back of your head. when he finally slipped them in, your hand pounded desperately against the cross you were pressed up on, pleads to stop falling pathetically into the hand of coriolanus and onto deaf ears. he was merciless with it, greedily pounding his fingers into you in a way that had your knees gravitating towards each other and animalistic grunts of pleasure vibrating through his hand. 

something in you burned, your body was pleading for more as an unfamiliar coil formed in the pit of your stomach. your hand continued to bang against the cross, tears falling as you forcibly peered into the eyes of your saviour while you got your cunt ravaged in the middle of his shrine. 

“oh god, oh god” you mumbled through his hand. you were unsure if it was shame, or the delicious way coryo pumped his fingers into you, but you grew lightheaded and dumb, eyes hazy as you grew closer to your release. 

“thats it, take it. you’re filthy, taking my fingers so well in the middle of church.” now, both hands scraped desperately against the cross, leaving marks in the wake of your fingernails digging into the hardwood. coriolanus tugged your head further up, forcing you to stare at him with tears streaming down your face and desperate pleas for him to stop going unheard. he smiled coyly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, and he withdrew them just before you reached your release, a loud, agonising whine of relief and desperation leaving your smushed lips. he was quick to replace his fingers with his cock, the slow intrusion of it making you let out a low, droned out groan as he stretched your virgin cunt past its limit.

he removed his hand from your mouth, and a string of prayers tumbled out of it, “o my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee,” and “and i detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend thee, my god, who art all good and deserving of all my love.” it earned you a slap to your ass, and you cried out loudly as coriolanus shoved your dress off of you, watching as it fell uselessly around your legs into a pool of white. he flipped you around, admiring your soft breasts and the way they spilled over in the hold of his fingers, and he traced the soft, plumpness of your belly as he chuckled lowly at your continuous prayer. with his cock still nestled into you, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“god loves you, but not as much as i do,” and then he thrust his cock into you with such force that you nearly tumbled to the floor. his hand rest on your lower back, forcing you to arch closer to him, your hips meeting his unwillingly at his fast pace. coriolanus’s cock grazed the inside of your gummy walls perfectly, and you found yourself slipping from reality as he continued to pound his dick into you, moaning when you contracted around him without rhythm, your inexperienced self almost overloaded with pleasure, unable to control your body. 

“you’re being such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” he weaved a hand through your hair, “‘n you’re gonna let me cum inside you, yeah? gonna make a woman out of you.” you couldnt focus on the words he was throwing at you, lost in pleasure as the tip of coryo’s dick hit that one spot over and over again. the way he spoke to you had you at a crossroads, and it didnt help that he was fucking you into oblivion, and now you understood what he had meant when he said he imposed between you and god, because you were becoming addicted to the push and pull of his cock inside of you. 

“thats right, take it. you look so pretty all dumb and fucked out on my cock,” you reached to grab his arm to steady yourself, your orgasm creeping in closely, “you gonna cum for me?” 

you didn't know what it meant, but you nodded anyways, completely lost in bliss, “coryo..” you moaned out, his brows raising slightly at the new nickname, a smirk settling on his face. moans and mewls lewdly left your mouth as he quickened his pace, his unused hand massaging at your tits, twisting and pinching softly at your nipples as you thrashed with pleasure under him. 

“gonna make you worship this fucking cock, baby” he was close himself now, his head falling and his voice itching up an octave, lewd moans clashing with yours as the rhythm and pace he set began to falter, and he fucked you as hard as he could as he chased your high and his own, “gonna make you devoted to me. you’re never gonna wanna be away from me again,” his face twisted with pleasure, and you circled your arms around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, the coil in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel and threatening to snap. a shadow passed, and your eyes widened with terror as you slapped coryo’s arm haphazardly, begs falling from your mouth to stop. he turned his head lazily to look at what you were whining about, but his thrusts didn't stop. 

“let them see what a dirty fucking girl you are.” 

your walls tightened and your eyes rolled so far back into your head you were scared they wouldn't come back up as your orgasm reached you. you covered your mouth, shrieking desperately as the shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, the newfound feeling unrelenting as it took over every part of your body. coriolanus repeated words of encouragement and praise as he fucked you through your high, before bottoming out and releasing his load in you, christening your walls. you whined at the feeling, so full and drunk off of it that your concerns of the passerby faded. the both of you stood there, panting heavily, both groaning when coryo slid out of you. he slapped his tip on your puffy clit one, two, three times, before a loud knock rapped on the church door. 

you could feel coriolanus’s spill leaking out of you as you crouched on your knees, hidden, and you cried silently, the reality of what had just happened to you settling in. coriolanus snow had corrupted you, in the worst possible way, and now you could only feel yourself crave more of him. as he spoke to the intruder, egging them to run along, a thumb caressed your head gently, as if to tell you he had everything under control. the small southern drawl he’d begun to pick up was more prominent. when the intruder finally left, you were forced to your feet, and coriolanus grabbed your ruined panties, resting on his knees below you to shove them into your used cunt, before making his way back to his feet, towering over you. he spoke to you like he would if he were on duty:

“you go on home now, miss. and tell your father i say hello.” 

and you did. 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[nanamis-baker]

The Bold Stroke

Chapter 2 | Whisper of the Petals

Pairing: philosophy student Geto x art student f!reader (College AU)

Summary: A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology… but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together.

Content: Fluff | slow burn | Light angst (I am not sure) | Mention of scars and accident | Mention of family issues | Reader falling for Geto | Geto being a gentleman but also a big big idiot.

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 10.2k

a/n: okayy it's here!! This chapter took me a while to write because writing conflicting emotions is something new for me lol.

But a big big bigg thank you to my girl @whereflowerswenttodie for reading and rereading it and helping me out with it!! 💙

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“So, are you meeting up with someone?” you asked Inumaki as you fixed your hair a little, the elevator mirror being perfect for it. The two of you were going to the library. Well, you were going to the library, and Inumaki had some work on the same floor, so he accompanied you.

Inumaki nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as the lift opened with a ding. The two of you went separate ways, waving each other goodbye as you went into the library. But as soon as you entered, your legs halted. What you saw was… unexpected, to say at least.

The library had transformed into a bustling marketplace of stressed students. Every table, including yours and Suguru's usual spot, was now occupied by unfamiliar faces. The studious quiet you'd craved was replaced by murmured arguments, frantic typing, and the occasional frustrated groan. This wasn't exactly how you'd envisioned making the presentation format with Suguru.

You had texted him earlier about the presentation format, but there was no way you could get any work done in this chaos. What could you do now? And what other option did you have? You could go to the cafe but-

Just then, a warm hand settled gently on your shoulder. You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat, only to find Suguru standing there, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled, his voice soothing amidst the library's chaos. You shook your head, the disappointment momentarily forgotten.

"No worries," you managed, forcing a smile. "But seriously, what do we do now?" You gestured towards the library, the silent question hanging heavy in the air.

Suguru's smile faltered, replaced by a knowing frown that mirrored your frustration. "I kind of expected this," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, a bunch of students submitted the same assignment, thinking they could fool their teacher."

A flicker of surprise shot through you. "The same assignment? How did you…"

"Long story," Suguru interrupted with a wry smile. "Let's just say the rumour mill at this school is efficient." He paused, his gaze flickering around the library before landing back on you. "The good news is, I might have a backup plan."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A backup plan, huh?" The unexpected turn of events had certainly piqued your interest.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "It is a Top secret," he declared, smiling to himself. "But trust me, it's worth it." He reached for your bag, gently relieving you of the weight. "Just promise me you won't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"Can't guarantee anything until I know where we're going," you teased, the disappointment at the ruined library session fading with each passing moment.

Suguru grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. He reached out and gently grasped your arm, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, the crowded library seemed miles away as Suguru led you on a detour.

The corridors twisted and turned, a confusing maze that would make recalling the route later impossible. You found yourself relying on Suguru's confident strides, a comfortable silence settling between you broken only by the rhythmic click of your shoes against the polished floor.

Finally, you arrived at a seemingly nondescript wall, the only hint of something unusual was a small, silver panel nestled discreetly within the plaster. Suguru pressed a button, and with a soft whirring sound, the elevator door slid open.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You had no idea this elevator even existed!

Suguru stepped inside, beckoning you to follow. It was a maintenance elevator, you realised. The cramped space barely accommodated the two of you comfortably, and the close proximity did little to deter you. He punched in a series of numbers on the keypad, and with a slight jerk, the elevator began its ascent.

"This elevator," you began, looking up at him, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. "How did you find it?"

Suguru chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he looked down to meet your eyes. "Let's just say Satoru and I stumbled upon it during an… 'unforeseen circumstance'?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks at the memory. "Someone was rather displeased with us - him, actually - at the time. Finding this secret elevator was a happy accident." His gaze lingered on the keypad, “And figuring out the pin wasn’t difficult, especially when Satoru is with you,” He finished, smiling fondly at the memory. You found yourself smiling too.

The elevator came to a halt, the familiar ding echoing in your ear. With a sense of anticipation, you watched as the doors slid open, revealing a sight that took your breath away. No longer confined by the walls of the library, you found yourself standing on a rooftop terrace bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

The sky stretched out before you like a canvas splashed with luminous hues of apricot and peach, with a hint of purple, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon. Below, the sprawling campus unfolded like a miniature world, with buildings and pathways etched in the golden light. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair and caressed your skin, carrying with it the scent of drying leaves, with a hint of muskiness.

For a moment, you were speechless, captivated by the unexpected beauty that lay before you. Turning to Suguru, you found a wide grin plastered across your face.

"So this is what you meant by 'Top Secret'?" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding confirmation. "This place is a bit of a hidden gem."

His gaze swept over your face, searching for your reaction. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Like it, Geto?" you repeated, the question almost comical. "I absolutely love it!"

This secret terrace, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, felt worlds away from the unexpected chaos of the library. It was a private sanctuary, a place just for the two of you.

A satisfied smile spread across Suguru's face. "Good to know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He gestured towards a nearby bench, its weathered wood and faded brown paint promising a comfortable perch. "We should have plenty of light for some time now - enough to complete that presentation, at least."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, you readily took a seat on the bench. Suguru settled himself beside you, the air crackling with newfound energy. "Perfect!" you declared, clapping your hands together. "Then let's get started."

The sun, it seemed, had a favourite today. You sat beside Geto, bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon light, as it casted a golden halo around you. He found himself mesmerised, his gaze drawn to the way the light danced on your skin, turning it a canvas of shimmering bronze. Each flicker in your eyes held a spark more captivating than any gemstone, a tiny fire that seemed to ignite a warmth deep within him.

A golden aura surrounded you, and in Geto's eyes, you became the most exquisite treasure the world had to offer.

He struggled to focus. Every few moments, his gaze would snag on the way the sunlight danced in your eyes, igniting a flicker that stole his attention. Geto found himself mumbling a request for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly, you didn't seem annoyed, simply repeating your point with a gentle smile.

You intrigued him – a captivating puzzle he couldn't seem to solve. Your thoughts, a fascinating mix of unexpected angles and surprising echoes of his own, kept him constantly engaged. During discussions, you'd throw out a witty remark that had him stifling a laugh, a sharp observation that made him see the topic from a whole new perspective. He'd marvel at the way your mind effortlessly weaved humour and insightful analysis, a combination that felt refreshingly unique.

There was a depth to your intelligence that went beyond mere academic prowess. You possessed a genuine curiosity about the world, a thirst for knowledge that mirrored his own. He found himself drawn to your passion, the way your eyes would light up as you delved into a subject that truly interested you. It was as if you held a mirror to his soul, reflecting things he hadn't even realised were there.

The more he interacted with you, the more he realised how much he craved your presence. It wasn't just the conversations; there was a spark between you, an undeniable chemistry that left him both exhilarated and strangely vulnerable. He found himself wanting to impress you, to share his thoughts and ideas in the hopes of eliciting another one of those dazzling smiles.

"Okay!" you said, a triumphant smile lighting your face. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow on the terrace, painting the cityscape in hues of lavender and gold. "We are done now," you declared, gathering your things. You turned to him, and your smile was even brighter, “Suguru, I can’t thank you enough for your help with this - I couldn’t have done this without you” Gratitude and sincerity shone brightly in your eyes, but that wasn't what held his attention.

Suguru. You had called him by his first name. It was a simple gesture - you probably didn't even realise it - yet it resonated within him like a physical touch. The sound echoed in the twilight, a melody far sweeter than the chirping crickets. He craved to hear it more and more.

"You don't have to thank me again and again, you know?" he managed, his voice a touch rougher than usual. He cleared his throat, hoping to dispel the unexpected feelings that bloomed within him. "I enjoyed working on this project too," he added, hoping to convey his sincerity. It was true – it had all been stimulating for him. But a deeper truth lurked beneath. He enjoyed simply being near you - in your presence.

A pang of sadness, sharp and sudden, twisted in his gut. Here he was, enjoying the afterglow of a shared experience, yet a looming shadow threatened to engulf it. The project, the reason you were here with him, was done. When would be the next time the two of you see each other? Would you, like the last rays of the sun dipping below the horizon, simply slip away too?

The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed down on Suguru as you walked towards the elevator. The last embers of the sun had faded, leaving the sky a canvas of deepening indigo. As he reached to press the button, blinding darkness swallowed the world whole, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

"What happened...?" He heard you murmur, a whisper lost in the sudden quiet. Suguru turned towards your voice, his eyes straining to adjust to the absence of light. He found you, a faint silhouette framed by the faint glow of the rising moon.

Concern flickered across him. He couldn't see you clearly, but he didn’t miss the slight tremor in your voice. He gently grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours, hoping to calm you.

Needing to confirm his suspicions, he took a tentative step towards the railing and peered over. Darkness. Not just the terrace, but the entire university grounds were shrouded in an inky blackness. The distant hum of activity that usually filled the evening air had been replaced by an unsettling silence.

"There seems to be a power cut in the area," he replied gently, his voice sounding hollow in the darkness. "But don't worry, we should have power back soon." He said, but for some reason, he had a hard time believing his own words.

"Can we use the stairs or something?" you asked, the slight tremor he had heard in your voice earlier was still there.

"Unfortunately, no," he sighed. "Satoru and I found it earlier, but they are blocked - inaccessible."

You didn't say anything, but Suguru heard a small, defeated 'Oh' escape your lips.

"But don’t worry, we can go and sit on the bench?" he offered, trying to shake away your worries. He could see the outline of the bench as his eyes had started to adjust to the darkness.

"Yeah, let's go," you agreed. As he guided you towards the familiar wooden seat, he felt your hand tighten around his, drawing his attention towards you.

Suddenly, you stopped, your voice tinged with awe. "Suguru, look up!"

He followed your gaze, tilting his head back. And then he saw it. The unexpected darkness had stripped away the veil of artificial light, revealing a breathtaking spectacle he hadn't even realised he'd been missing. A vast expanse of midnight blue stretched above them, a canvas sprinkled with a million shimmering diamonds. The stars. So many stars, each one a tiny beacon in the infinite darkness.

The darkness, once unsettling, now felt strangely beautiful. He stole a glance at you, your face bathed in the ethereal glow of the starlight, a look of wonder mirrored in your eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing.

Not at all.

An unexpected idea sparked in Geto's mind. He gently released his hold on your hand and reached for his jacket. He knelt, spreading the garment on the cool ground, making sure it was properly spread out.

"Here," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. He could see you better now, bathed in the faint moonlight, and a flicker of curiosity played across your features.

"What are you doing?" you asked, And Geto could hear the amusement in your voice.

"Come on," he said, extending out his hand, offering it to you in the dimness. "This way we can see the stars better, without straining your neck."

Understanding dawned on you, and a delighted smile spread on your lips, mirroring his own. Taking his hand, you allowed him to gently guide you down onto the makeshift blanket his jacket provided. A warmth spread through him as the two of you settled on the jacket, laying down side by side. Geto could feel the heat radiate from your body against his arm.

A comfortable silence descended, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a cricket, a sound that seemed louder than usual in the quiet. Geto kept his hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of your skin a surprising comfort against his. His thumb, as if possessed by a will of its own, began tracing lazy circles on your palm.

Stealing glances at your face, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, Geto searched for any sign of unease, a flicker of disapproval that might suggest he had crossed a line. Thankfully, he found none.

"Suguru?" He heard you say, your voice, soft as the night breeze. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze in the dim moonlight.

"You know," you began, a playful glint dancing in your eyes, "you never really told me why you were nose-deep in all those business books in the library that day."

A surprised chuckle escaped Geto's lips, despite the topic you were referring to. "Yeah? And you never told me why you chose to drown yourself in the world of arts," he countered, his voice betraying a hint of the unease he felt.

You let out a laugh, the gentle sound echoing in the dark. "Well, you never really asked!"

"But I am asking now," he countered, amusement dancing in his voice.

"Okay, okay," you said with a grin. "Fair enough. First, you answer my question, and then I'll answer yours. Deal?"

Geto hesitated for a beat, the darkness both a shield and a prompt. So Geto had to offer a part of himself to get to know you better - sounds interesting "Deal," he finally agreed.

You looked up at him expectantly and taking a deep breath, he decided to be honest. "The thing is," he began, trying to hide the disgust he felt about this topic, "those business books weren't exactly what I wanted to be reading. You see, my family owns a pharmaceutical company, one of the biggest in the country."

"Oh wow," you said, a hint of surprise in your voice, “I didn’t know that.”

"Yeah," he said, a humourless scoff escaping his lips. "They expect me to join the business after graduation. Here's the real thing though," he continued, feeling his voice drop low, "They see me as a puppet, someone to inherit their greed and continue their ruthless practices."

"What kind of practices?" he heard you ask, concern flickering in your voice.

He felt his jaw clench slightly, the darkness a welcome shroud for the anger simmering within him. "They price their life-saving drugs at exorbitant rates," he spat, the venom of his words sour on his tongue. "People who desperately need them can't afford them, all because of my family's insatiable thirst for profit. It goes against everything I believe in."

A heavy silence descended. He stole a glance at you, unsure how you'd react. But your expression was open, devoid of judgement, and held a flicker of understanding. It was an unspoken invitation to continue, a safe harbour for the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"They wouldn't listen to reason," he continued, his voice low and defeated. "I've tried, believe me. But logic and compassion seem to be foreign concepts in their world." But still, Geto had to do something right? "Maybe, just maybe, by learning their game, I can break this system and change it from within. But honestly," he admitted with a bitter laugh, "I don't even know if that's possible. Their control is absolute."

The darkness seemed to press in on him, a reflection of the despair that threatened to consume him. He yearned for a way out, a way to break free from the gilded cage his family had built for him.

Your hands squeezed his, bringing him back to the present. "That's a lot to carry," you finally said, your voice soft but firm. "The anger, the frustration, the feeling of helplessness." You paused, letting your words sink in. "But Suguru," you continued, your voice gaining strength, "don't let them steal your compassion, your beliefs. As long as you hold onto them, you’ll find a way. I know you will”

Geto smiled. You were so sweet, so kind, trying to comfort him. It was a small, tired smile, the kind that held the weight of the world but acknowledged a sliver of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Your words, laced with a quiet strength, resonated deep within him. It was true. He couldn't let their greed and corruption taint the core of who he was. But, at the same time, he knew it wasn't wise to hope for much when it came to his parents. Still, he wouldn't burden you anymore with his issue. Maybe a lighter topic would chase away the shadows that had crept into the conversation.

"You're right," he said, his voice regaining a touch of its earlier playfulness. "Now, answer my question from earlier." He raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness, hoping to lighten the mood.

He saw you smile, but it wasn't your usual, happy smile. A faint shadow flickered across your features, a subtle shift in your demeanour that sent a wave of unease through him. "I was in a car accident a few years ago - both my mom and I," you said, your voice softer than usual, your fingers twisting a loose thread on your shirt.

The playfulness drained from his face. An accident? The image of mangled metal and shattered glass flashed unbidden in his mind. "Oh," he stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Another car crashed into ours," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "The driver was drunk. Thankfully, the major impact was on my side, so my mom wasn't hurt too bad."

This wasn't what Geto was expecting to hear. He watched as you reached for your phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. With slightly trembling fingers, you lifted the hem of your jeans, the phone's cool flashlight revealing a constellation of scars that snaked across your calves. Geto's mouth went dry.

You turned towards him, a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes. Hesitantly, you reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, revealing a faint scar that traced a jagged line along your hairline and the back of your neck. The moonlight glinted off the raised, pale flesh, a contrast to the smooth skin surrounding it.

Geto thought he had memorised the expanse of your face, every little detail like the map of a cherished land. But god, was he wrong. He had missed such a big part of you.

Shame washed over him in a sickening wave. He'd been so caught up in his own problems, that he hadn't noticed the silent stories etched across your body. His fingers moved to trace the scar, to feel it under his fingertips, but retracted his hand before it could reach you.

You continued, your voice quiet, "I was bedridden for months, Suguru. I couldn't even speak because a shard of glass had damaged my vocal cords. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to survive, but I did." You let out a humourless chuckle. "I could barely move, I couldn't speak at all, and the frustration – I can't even begin to tell you." You shook your head slightly, a ghost of the ordeal lingering in your eyes.

"My parents were worried, you know, and that's when I started painting," you continued. A small, bittersweet smile touched your lips. "It was horrible at first, of course," you added with a self-deprecating laugh, "but with time, I got better. It became my voice, a way to express the things I couldn't say. Even after I healed, I kept up with it. I wanted to know more – about other people's work, their thought processes, and why they painted what they painted. And so, I chose art as my major." You finished with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal or anything.

Geto didn't really know what to say. Words felt hollow compared to the weight of your story. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. He mentally face-palmed himself. Really? That was the best he could offer? It sounded insensitive, trivial even, in the face of what you'd been through.

You offered a small, understanding smile. "Sometimes," you admitted. "Not the scars themselves, thankfully. But half of my body is metal now, thanks to the accident. That gets achy sometimes, especially when the weather gets cold." As if on cue, a cool wind rustled through the leaves, and Geto saw the way you flinched so slightly, a shiver running down your body.

Geto's heart lurched. He cursed himself for his obliviousness. Here he was complaining about his family, while you carried the physical and emotional weight of a traumatic experience. Without thinking, he shifted closer, offering you the meagre comfort of his body heat. "Here, let me shield you from the wind a bit."

A warm smile graced your lips as you leaned into him slightly, accepting his support - accepting him. The gesture ignited a spark within Geto, a warmth blossoming in his chest that rivalled the one he offered.

Geto's fingers, which had hovered awkwardly in his lap, found themselves drawn to you again. This time though, they didn't hesitate. With tenderness, they brushed against the cool expanse of the scar on your temple, then trailed down to the faint jagged line along your neck. Your skin felt cold under his warm touch.

You inhaled sharply, your breath catching against his chest. Geto's touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were tracing a sacred map. He met your gaze, the moonlight and stars reflecting in your eyes like a million scattered diamonds. At that moment, it felt like he was peering into a whole new universe, one filled with unspoken stories and hidden depths. A universe he desperately wanted to explore, to get lost in, and maybe, just maybe, find a way back to, together.

His thumb grazed the soft skin of your jaw, a gentle nudge that tilted your face up a fraction. He wanted to see everything, to re-learn every detail etched on your face, the scars, the way the moonlight glinted off the moisture gathering in your eyes. He wanted to learn all your secrets, or at least the ones you were willing to share.

You responded instinctively, leaning in further until the space between you evaporated. Your warm breath mingled with his, a silent question hanging in the air. The stars seemed to wink in approval as the distance between your faces continued to shrink. Anticipation flickered in your darkened eyes, which then fluttered shut as Geto leaned in even closer. Slowly, the space between his lips and yours became nonexistent, a mere breath away.

Just as your lips were about to meet in a brush, The world erupted in a harsh burst of fluorescent light. Both of you jolted back, blinking away the temporary blindness.

It took Geto a moment to realise what had happened. He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the sudden quiet. "We got the power back," he mumbled, his voice thick with the unspoken desire that hung heavy in the air moments ago. His gaze darted away from you for a moment, then returned, searching your eyes for any indication of how you felt about the interrupted moment.

He took in your flushed cheek and your dilated, glossy eyes. That was all the indication he needed. A small, frustrated sigh escaped your lips. "Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment, the intimacy between the two of you, was shattered like a dropped glass, leaving behind a thousand shimmering shards of unspoken desire.

The silence stretched, heavy with what could have been. Geto watched as you began gathering your things, a subtle shift in your demeanour that spoke volumes. You turned to face him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the lingering frustration in your eyes. "We should go now, it's getting colder."

He nodded in agreement, his voice thick when he finally spoke. "Yeah, definitely." He grabbed his jacket and dusted it off, the simple action taking longer than necessary. He watched as you reached for your bag, then blurted out, "Here, let me get that," as he grabbed the bag, relieving you of the weight. It was the least he could do, anyway.

Geto had spent hours with you today, yet it felt like mere moments. "Let me walk you home, please," the words tumbled out before he could stop them, fueled by a desire to prolong this stolen time, this unexpected intimacy.

He held his breath, bracing himself for a polite refusal. But then, a bright smile bloomed on your face, a smile that lit up the terrace brighter than the harsh fluorescent lights that had shattered their moment. "Thank you, Suguru," you said, your voice soft but filled with a warmth that sent a thrill through him. "I'd like that."

“Okay, so what happened next? Did you invite him up?” Maki leaned forward, her eyes eager. She glanced at Yuta, who was also listening intently.

Your friends—minus Inumaki—were gathered at the campus café for a small celebration. You’d just received an A+ on your presentation, and of course, you had to share how Suguru's help had played a crucial role. The moment you mentioned his name, their ears visibly perked up.

It had been two weeks since that night on the rooftop, two agonisingly silent weeks. You and Suguru had barely exchanged any texts, and you hadn’t even seen him around campus.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. “Of course not! It was just something we felt in the moment. I don’t think inviting him up would have been a wise decision.” You took a sip of your iced tea, the coolness soothing the flutter in your stomach. Every time you replayed the scene in your head, your heart skipped a little. But the silence that followed since then was deafening.

“It doesn’t sound like ‘something in the moment,’ especially with the way you described everything.” Yuta pointed out. One might think he wouldn’t be interested in such stuff, but when it came to his friends, Yuta was always supportive.

"Maybe," you admitted, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. The truth was, the interrupted kiss felt less like a missed opportunity and more like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. But what if you were reading too much into it? The thought sent a pang of disappointment through you, a feeling you quickly brushed aside.

Maki scoffed playfully. "Girl, you were practically glowing when you talked about him! And no one does what he did just to be friendly, you know."

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Maybe Maki was right. Maybe there was something between you and Suguru. A tiny flicker of hope ignited within you, but it was quickly washed away by a wave of uncertainty. Here you were, falling for him, yet his silence indicated that he probably regretted things—didn’t want it. But then the gentle look in his eyes, his silent support, and the way he held you oh so tenderly, shielding you from the cold...

Ugh, it was all so confusing. "But what if—"

Yuta cut you off with a gentle laugh. "Hey, you never know until you try, right? And besides, even if things don’t work out romantically, you made a great new friend. Win-win, I'd say."

You couldn’t help but smile at your friend’s statement. Yuta always knew how to see the bright side. Taking a deep breath, you decided to focus on the positive. Suguru was interesting, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You could confide in him as a friend. But the way his touch comforted you, ignited you...well, that was definitely more than friendly.

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, a newfound determination settling in your voice despite the nervousness you felt. "Maybe I'll just...see where things go."

Admitting it out loud felt a lot easier. "I like him, you know," you said, looking at your friends with a small smile. "He’s someone who seems to be interested in something that’s not superficial—like he wants to know me, understand me. And it just seems so rare for someone to be genuinely interested in you, right?"

Your friends looked at you with knowing smiles, a silent encouragement hanging in the air. It was probably more than just liking him, you knew. But admitting it out loud, even with just a hint of the deeper feelings swirling within you, felt like a huge step.

The art exhibition buzzed with a quiet energy. The gentle notes of classical music filled your ears, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses from the nearby champagne bar. 

You stood mesmerised in front of a large, abstract piece. It was a puzzle, quiet literally. Fractured squares of vibrant colours and captivating strokes hung on the stark white wall, making an incomplete puzzle, while its other pieces were scattered chaotically on the floor below. The missing pieces created a gaping emptiness in the artwork, a void that tugged at your emotions.

Was it a metaphor for loss  - longing? a commentary on the incompleteness of experiences? You longed to discuss it with Yuta. He'd always loved puzzles; his apartment was filled with framed pieces of puzzles he had solved so far. His mind was a kaleidoscope of unconventional interpretations, making you look at things with a different perspective.

A pang of guilt lanced through you. You were supposed to visit this exhibition with your friends, but Maki wasn't feeling well. Yet, here you were, lost in the beauty of the artwork displayed. Although Yuta had assured you he was taking care of her, telling you to not miss this exhibition, a part of you still yearned to be by your friend's side.

“Intriguing, is it?” A voice interrupted your thought. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The voice, once a source of comfort and playful teasing, now startled you. It was him, the man who had vanished after nearly kissing you under the twinkling stars, leaving you with nothing but lingering confusion and a heart full of unanswered questions.

And now, after almost two months, he was here, asking you this bloody question.

Suguru Geto.

Well, if he wants to play it this way, you can entertain him. After all, two can play this game. "It is," you began, your eyes finally meeting his. "But I'm trying to figure out what the artist is trying to show here."

Geto hummed thoughtfully. "You know what I think?" He paused. Was he expecting a response from you? Well, he wasn’t getting any. You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the artwork.

Undeterred, he continued, his voice taking on a philosophical tone. "This artwork seems to be a metaphor for life. Life throws pieces at you, like the ones scattered on the floor. It's all you need to make your life meaningful and beautiful. Opportunities, people, love..." he trailed off, the last word hanging in the air unspoken.

His gaze shifted back to the painting, his voice softer now. "But it's up to you how you make use of those pieces, to put in the effort to fit them together. If you're not careful, if you wait too long..." He paused again, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to regret and longing passing through them. "The pieces might be lost to you forever."

You sucked in a breath. No, he couldn’t mean what you were thinking. After all, the only conversation the two of you had after hanging out on the terrace was when you told him about your assignment and the grade you scored.

Yes, you had texted him a couple of times after that, but the reply seemed…dry. So, you stopped, hoping Geto would reach out to you when he was ready, but the man beside you never bothered to do anything about it.

But your mind replayed the memory of how he held you that night, a tender embrace that spoke volumes without words. It was a gesture that made you feel cherished, as if you were his most prized possession, far above any material wealth the world could offer. And when you shared the news of your accident, his reaction was unexpected - a mixture of regret and concern, as though he wished he had been there for you, even though he didn't even know you at the time.

No.

You couldn’t allow yourself to go there again.

Not if he wouldn’t follow you, keeping up with you.

Your mind buzzed with Geto’s words, his interpretation of the art piece lingering in your thoughts like an unshakable presence. Was he a piece that life had flung your way, meant to enhance the beauty of your existence? Or did he hold some other significance, perhaps serving as a lesson - a piece that doesn’t enhance the beauty of the puzzle, but serves as a guiding force for other pieces? Was he a fleeting moment of joy, destined to fade into memory like the strokes of paint on a canvas? Or was he a constant, a steady presence meant to shape your journey, to teach you lessons you had yet to grasp?

Stop.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to go there. Not again and again.

This man almost kissed you after you told him one of the deepest truths about yourself, and then disappeared, leaving you alone to deal with the darkness so similar to the inky blackness of that night. But this time, even the stars weren’t there to keep you company.

Leaving the painting behind, you moved towards a different section of the exhibition. Here, the air shimmered with vibrant light. Holographic projections of the paintings danced around you, painting your surroundings with the artist's colourful strokes. These ethereal brushstrokes, magnified and swirling, seemed to come alive, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of the artist's imagination. 

However, the original artworks remained untouched. Hung on the wall next to their holographic counterparts, they offered a more tangible connection to the artist's hand, allowing you to study the physical texture of the canvas, the subtle nuances of the brushstrokes, and the deliberate choices of colour.

The projections painted your off-white dress in different colours, the fabric a soft caress against the skin of your calves as you walked from one painting to another.

Geto followed you closely behind as you navigated through the section, his silence a palpable presence behind your back. You felt his gaze track your movements, but you paid it no mind, completely enthralled by the painting before you.

It was a complete mess. It was a riot of colour, a whirlwind of strokes, a storm of emotions, yet it held you captive. The longer you stared, the more it seemed to transform, the chaos morphing and shifting before your very eyes. What initially appeared as a meaningless jumble began to hold meaning, revealing a hidden order within the frenzy. The chaos formed a structure - The structure within the chaos.

It was almost as if the holograms mirrored your feelings - Confusing, chaotic, shifting.

Lost in the painting's mesmerising chaos, you barely registered Geto's approach. He stood so close behind you that the warmth of his body radiated through your clothes, his upper arm brushing against your shoulder. His voice, soft and low, shattered the silence.

"What are you doing at this exhibition?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Turning around to face him, you finally took him in. Dressed in a brown turtleneck that mirrored the depths of his eyes, his attire accentuated their warm, inviting hue. He wore a casual blazer on top of it, the colour slightly lighter than the colour of his turtleneck. His raven hair, noticeably longer, was tied back in a simple half-bun, the remaining strands cascading down his shoulders. The change, subtle yet noticeable, added a touch of softness to his features.

But what stood out the most were the circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his face. Even as the holograms danced all over his face, they did nothing to conceal his worn-out state; they almost amplified it.

A pang of concern flickered in your chest, a fleeting thought about his well-being. However, you quickly pushed it aside. Geto was the one who decided not to keep in touch anymore, so now it wasn’t your job to be concerned.

But of course, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your feelings for someone like they never existed, was it?

"This is an art exhibition, open to all," you finally answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and in case you forgot, I am an art student, Geto." Your voice was filled with sarcasm, and Geto chuckled. You smiled sweetly at him as you asked, "What about you?"

"Well," he began, his voice laced with a playful drawl, "as someone just said, this is an art exhibition, open to all." He shrugged, smirking. You gave him one final, unamused look before your eyes turned back to the painting.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and the lingering warmth of Geto's presence. Finally, he spoke, "What do you find so captivating about this painting?"

His voice, a soft melody laced with genuine wonder, resonated with a yearning that transcended mere curiosity. It was as if you held the key to answering the storm of questions swirling within him, your insights holding a weight far greater than anything else. A hunger to delve deeper, to peel back the layers of your being until he could see the very essence of you, consumed him.

A ghost of a smile danced on your lips. How could you deny the man who held such profound significance in your heart, the man who yearned to truly know you, to unravel your soul until there was nothing left to be discovered?

No, of course you couldn’t keep away, no matter how hard you tried.

Finally, you answered him. If he wanted a piece of your mind, you would gladly offer it to him. "For me, it’s those golden strokes," you began, "It was definitely a risky move for the painter. Those strokes could have ruined the painting, but it didn't. Instead, it made this painting what we see."

Geto hummed, "So, you feel like that stroke was a bold move for the painter?"

You nodded your head in response. Geto continued, "But what if that stroke ruined the painting?"

A slight smile played on your lips. "Well, then the painter would have learned something important. They'd know they could create the painting again if they wanted to, and that's a power in itself. They'd know they have the skill and the confidence to reach that level of greatness again." You looked him in the eye, your gaze pinning him, "Even if the stroke ended up ruining the painting, the artist could always put in the effort of making it again, and that in itself is a form of victory. They wouldn't be afraid to take that bold step again and again, till the painter gets what they want from the painting."

Geto's gaze drifted away for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words. It was as if he was engaged in an internal debate, weighing the implications of your statement against his own judgement.

“I wish I could look into your mind.” He finally said, his eyes slightly wide in wonder.

But oh Suguru, little did he know, he has been settled there since the two of you met in the cafe.

A soft buzz from Geto’s phone brought you out of your thoughts, making you realise how quiet it was around you. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message. As you watched him, the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and met your gaze. "It was good seeing you again," he said. Were you overthinking, or was his voice a touch more formal than before? "I have to go now. Enjoy the exhibition."

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried, leaving you standing there with a lingering feeling of unease. You hadn't had a chance to say goodbye, and the abruptness of his departure left you wondering about your interaction with Geto.

Soon, you were done with the exhibition, the vibrant colours of the holograms still dancing behind your eyelids. Your mind buzzed with inspiration, the beauty of the paintings displayed sparking a flurry of ideas in your head.

The puzzle painting seemed to mock you as you passed it one last time, the question echoing in your mind: where did Geto fit in your life? What piece of the puzzle was he?

Exiting the building, you descended the stairs, the chill in the winter air making you shiver despite your sweater. As you reached the bottom, your steps slowed, coming to a halt. There was Geto, standing by the entrance. But he wasn't alone. He held a woman close, his arms wrapped tightly around her like he never wanted to let go. Her head rested against his chest, and his eyes were closed, almost nestled against her shoulder. The intimacy of their embrace was undeniable, a silent language of comfort and connection that spoke volumes.

Despite the prickling suspicion in your chest, you knew better than to jump to conclusions. This wasn't your place to pry. Yet, the image of their closeness branded itself into your brain, a searing feeling that left your heart burning.

"Well, don't you two look cute," a voice boomed. You looked up to see a man with white hair and sunglasses approaching them, a wide grin plastered on his face.

Gojo Satoru - the name echoed in your mind - Geto's best friend.

You watched as Geto and the woman pulled away, the woman playfully swatting Gojo's arm. But it wasn't the playful interaction that held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see the lingering longing in Geto's eyes as he looked at her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut. This was what he'd been preoccupied with. This is why he had kept you in the dark. This all felt like a cruel joke, life playing a twisted game on you. Of course he had a girlfriend - a guy like him probably had women lining up around the block.

You shook your head, a humourless chuckle escaping your lips as you made your way down the remaining stairs. Yeah, it was pretty obvious what kind of piece Geto was. A missing piece, a piece that belonged to someone else's puzzle, not yours.

You stood outside maki’s wooden front door, finger hovering over the buzzer.  But, before you could ring, the door swung open, its hinges creaking slightly as familiar black, tousled hair came into the view.

Yuta lifted his head, momentarily startled to see someone standing right outside the door, before his eyes met yours. A small smile graced his lips. You took note of the black duffle bag hanging on his shoulder.

You returned his smile, “Leaving now?” you asked him, watching as a small blush crept up his cheek. “Yeah, Maki is feeling better now, so I figured I should go home.” He answered, relief clouding in his eyes before his expression turned curious, “Oh, how was the exhibition yesterday? Again, I am so sorry we couldn’t make it.”

You shook your head, dismissing his apology. “No need to apologise, Yuta.” Despite the events of last night, you found yourself smiling. After all, you saw some works by your favourite artists. You cannot let a man - no matter how much he meant to you - ruin something that you have been looking forward to so eagerly.

“The exhibition was great, Yuta,” You said, as you told him about the puzzle artwork. “I really missed you guys there, you would have loved it too.” You finished, hoping to convey your sincerity with your words. 

Yuta’s eyes lit up and his smile widened, “That sounds amazing! I hope next time all of us can go” He said, before gesturing towards his bag, “Anyways, I gotta go now - Maki’s in her room, by the way.” With a final wave, he moved towards the front door, the door shutting behind him as he left Maki’s apartment.

You made your way towards her room, the minty smell of ointment filling your nose. You found Maki sitting on her bed with a small crochet blanket draped over her legs. The vibrant colours of the blanket reminded you of summer. 

Maki looked up when you approached, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she rolled her eyes, inviting you to sit on the bed. “I knew I would see your face today.” she said, causing you to smile. Her voice today was a far cry from the shaky, tired voice she had yesterday.

Yeah, Yuta was right, Maki was definitely feeling better.

You also noticed that some colour has returned to her face, and Maki looked better now than she did at college, and this observation somehow soothed and comforted you. You enquired about her well-being and got to know that Maki had a cold and fever, but thanks to Yuta’s support, she was feeling far better. 

Oh, Speaking of Yuta…

“So Yuta stayed the night, huh?” You finally asked, an eyebrow raised and a smirk gracing your lips. 

Maki rolled her eyes again but she didn’t shy away from the topic. You watched as the top of her cheeks turned slightly pink. It was a rare sight, something you found so cute. Both Yuta and Maki had a similar reaction to a similar situation.

“Yeah, he was just making sure the fever doesn't get worse or anything,” she said, a small smile on her lips as if she was recalling last night. “He was really sweet about it, actually.” She said it as if she just realised it too.

You smiled for your friends, “So, do you want something with him?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Maki’s expression turned thoughtful, though a hint of playfulness remained, “I do like him,” She admitted. There was no hesitancy in her voice. “But I don’t want to force things with him or anything. Just go with the flow, you know?” She met your eyes as she said, “Besides, he is a great friend - that matters above everything else.” 

You admired Maki’s clarity. She knew what she wanted. 

Nodding your head in response, you reached out to squeeze Maki's hand. But just then Maki let out a small cough. You quickly reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and handed it to her, "Here, take a sip of this."

After a few sips, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice slightly raspy, "enough about me. Tell me what’s going on between you and that Geto guy?" Her gaze, even dimmed by illness, held its usual unwavering intensity. It burrowed into yours, leaving no room for secrets. “And don’t lie, I can tell something is bothering you.”

Your heart sank at the mention of Geto's name, the emotions from last night bubbling back to the surface. You avoided them, though. "I think he's seeing someone else," you admitted with a bitter chuckle.

Maki's frown mirrored your own confusion. "But from what you told me…?"

"Yeah, I know," you sighed, your voice heavy with resignation. "But then again, we didn’t speak for two months. I don’t really blame him for pursuing someone else."

But the ache in your chest refused to dissipate, stubbornly clinging to the remnants of hope you had tried to bury.

You recounted the events of the exhibition, the cryptic nature of Suguru's words, and the sight of him with another woman. Maki listened attentively, her unwavering gaze conveying understanding as you poured your heart out to her.

Maki sighed, her disappointment evident in the furrow of her brow. “The woman you are talking about,” she began, her tone tinged with frustration, “I think I saw her and Geto at a cafe - the description sounds the same. But I didn’t think much of it because I just assumed they were friends or something.” Another sigh escaped her lips, laden with exasperation. “But from what you're saying… man, that guy is so clueless!”

"Now, there’s no point in that anyway," you murmured, your shoulders slumping as you shook your head. "I’m just disappointed because I thought we had something, but I guess I just misunderstood things."

Maki's eyes flashed with indignation. “I saw the way he looked at you in the cafeteria - like a teenage boy looking at his first crush. It was so sweet it was almost disgusting,” she said, her nose scrunching up slightly. “So no, you did not misunderstand things. That guy turned out to be an asshole.”

Maki reached out and squeezed your hand, a gesture so unexpected from her that it caught you off guard. “You deserve better than someone who doesn’t know what he wants.” Her gaze was intense, taking in your slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “You know what?” she began, determination clear in her voice. “Give me your phone.”

“You are not texting him,” you said sternly, though you unlocked your phone and handed it to her anyway.

“Of course not,” she replied with a humourless chuckle. “He isn’t worth my time.” You rolled your eyes at her statement, but the corners of your lips twitched upwards, feeling a bit of the weight lifting off your shoulders.

You peeked over your phone, curiosity getting the better of you. Maki was busy downloading - “A dating app?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Maki nodded in response, her fingers flying over the screen as she added a description and prompts to your profile. “But Maki, I don’t want to date someone just like that,” you protested.

“You deserve to meet someone new and exciting. It doesn’t have to be serious,” Maki replied, her voice firm but caring.

You had never used dating apps before, so you felt hesitant to try it out. The idea of swiping left and right felt strange, almost impersonal. But another part of you was curious to see how things would turn out. After all, college was ending soon, you had barely dated anyone until now, and then the thing with Geto...

Maki looked up from the phone, her expression softening slightly. “I know it feels weird, but sometimes you need to step out of your comfort zone. Just give it a try. If you don’t like it, you can always delete it.” She angled the phone towards you, the dating app now downloaded and ready to go. “Think of it as an adventure. You never know what might happen.”

Maki began swiping for you, her eyes occasionally flicking up to check your reaction. One particular profile caught your eye. “Wait!” you stopped her just as she was about to remove the profile.

“What? Him? Really?” Maki asked, her nose scrunching up in mild disgust.

“Hey, he looks good, okay? But that’s not the point,” you said, leaning in to get a better look. The picture of a familiar white-haired man stared back at you. “That’s Geto’s best friend, Gojo.” You told her, swiping down on the profile to see more.

You came across a picture of him and Geto, seemingly from a beach trip. Both of them were wearing floral shirts and sporting big grins. The sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. The carefree happiness on Geto's face contrasted sharply with the confusion and heartache you felt.

The text with the picture read:

Yeah, that’s my best friend, but you won’t find him here. His heart is already taken, but mine isn’t ;)

You shook your head, ignoring the icy feeling that crawled up your veins; a feeling that didn’t have anything to do with the cold, biting wind outside. After a few more swipes, you got some matches. Maki took over, texting them on your behalf.

“‘Are you free tomorrow?’” Maki read the text from one of your matches out loud. Yeah, you were free, but was it wise to go out with someone you barely knew? As if sensing your hesitation, Maki said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think you should.” Then, she added, “It might help you deal with your feelings for Geto.” You noticed a hint of bitterness when she said his name, as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.

You bit your lip, considering her words. Maki has always been your rock, her advice helping you through the toughest situations. Finally making up your mind, you said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll go out with him - see how it is.” Then, with a teasing tone you said, your voice light, “But I am going only for you.”

Maki smiled at you, her expression lightening. “Great! I’ll text him then.” Her tone turned serious. “But keep texting me, okay? He seems okay, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be worried about you.”

You smiled at your friend’s protectiveness. “Yeah, I will Maki, don’t worry about it.”

A small part of you felt like this was wrong, especially since there was no communication between you and Geto to clear things up. But he had started dating someone else, hadn’t he? His heart was already taken, wasn’t it? So did it matter what you felt for him? Clearly, it didn’t mean anything to him, so the sooner you got over it, the better it would be for you.

The sudden crack of lightning jolted you, sending a streak of black liquid across your eyelid just as you were applying your eyeliner. A muted curse escaped your lips as you grabbed a makeup wipe, determined to fix the line. But the damage was done – a dark smudge now decorated your under-eye. With a sigh, you opted for a clean look, wiping away the eyeliner completely.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a low rumble of thunder. Your brow furrowed as you pulled on your clothes for the date. Winter rain was a rarity, but the damp air and earthy scent were unmistakable signs of a downpour.

You had to hurry now. Getting caught in a winter rain shower was the last thing you wanted, especially with your already achy legs. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that you were looking presentable. Despite the eyeliner disaster, you felt satisfied with your hair and makeup.

You made your way towards the restaurant, taking the subway. As you emerged from the station, the warm, stale air was replaced by a blast of icy wind that stole your breath. It was raining now, but thankfully it was misty; the droplets of water barely felt like anything. The rain clung around your face, blurring the city lights into shimmering halos. The rhythmic rumble of the train faded behind you, replaced by the traffic honks and the murmur of people walking around.

Your legs felt like lead as you trudged towards the restaurant. You'd chosen a cosy Italian place that was a little far from your apartment. Your date had insisted on a ‘middle point’ since he lived far away from your place, and you couldn’t protest.

Doubt gnawed at you. Was this the right way to get over Geto? The memory of his supportive glances and gentle laugh sent a pang through your chest. This date with someone you barely knew, suddenly felt like a flimsy shield against a tidal wave of longing. Yes, you and your date had exchanged some text, but could you really judge a person just through texts? But cancelling now felt like a betrayal – you couldn’t bring yourself to leave someone hanging like that while they waited for you.

With that in mind, you pushed open the glass doors of the restaurant. The smell of molten cheese and basil greeting you, followed by the gentle clink of glasses and happy murmurs. The whole place was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights. 

Once inside, you navigated through the crowded space until you spotted a familiar-looking face. Your date's blond hair was combed neatly, but there was something different about his hair compared to the pictures you saw. Still, you paid it no mind as you made your way to the table.

As you reached the table, you noticed an almost empty lowball glass that sat in front of him. It had a single ice cube clinging to the bottom of what appeared to be bourbon, given by its amber colour. Before you could dwell on the obvious red flag, dark hazel eyes met yours.

You forced out a smile. “Hey, you must be –”

The words died on your lips as he cut you off, his voice clipped. "You're late."

Huh?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Looking forward to your feedback 🌷

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I know things take a turn here, and even I wasn't expecting this to happen but it just happened, to the point I had to change the storyline lol

@whereflowerswenttodie @celestie0 @lostfracturess @nakariabnrb @yungbloode

@peppertoastuniverse @hopefulpeachcolor

Stained glass and heart dividers by @/saradika

Line divider by @benkeibear

Galaxy divider by @/cafekitsune

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

HIS SONGBIRD

Warning: english is not my first language, aemond is obsessed, mention of masturbation

Kings landing was always bustling, whether it was merchants offering their wares or whores luring passers-by into the house of pleasure. There were thousands of voices in the city, but recently there was one more that was louder and kinder than the others. A voice that used to sing for money, food, or a place to sleep. A voice that every innkeeper wished to have with him, because his sound attracted customers even from the outskirts of the city. Lately, the owner of the voice has been seen in very crowded marketplaces singing songs encouraging the common people to support the rightful Queen Rheanyra. These meetings were always ended by golden cloaks that began to make their way through the crowd, but the girl always miraculously evaporated in the adjacent alleys.

Aemond left the brothel in the early hours of the morning. He was tired, stayed up all night and told his woes to the madam in the brothel. He felt a little better, but he was still bothered by the fact that without the coin, the madam wouldn't even look at him. All he longed for was his soft bed with its silky, cool sheets. When he saw a female figure dancing and tapping a tambourine to the beat of a song. Her voice left him mesmerized, he was used to bards from the court, or the songs of dragons as they soared into the sky. Her voice felt like cold water after days of thirst, he listened to her voice so much that he didn't even realize the words of the song.

In the shadow of the palace, the people cry,

Underneath the gilded rooftops, where the hungry die.

Golden crowns and silver spoons, but empty plates,

While the children of the kingdom face their cruel fate.

From the throne, they preach of grace and charity,

But in the streets, there’s only pain and disparity.

Hey, King, can’t you see?

Your people starve while you feast.

Hey, Dowager Queen, hear our plea,

In your kingdom of the beast.

No more, no more, we won’t bow

We’re rising up, we’re shouting now.

These words, although not directed at him, angered him. How could this street rat say this about the royal family and how people seemed to agree with her.

And you know what they say don't make a dragon angry.,, Hey you, stop now.” he yelled at her. Her face immediately realized that silver hair meant trouble for her. Before he could blink, her dark blue skirt was already disappearing around the corner. He immediately ran after her, pushing several people out of his way. He couldn't even see her properly for several streets, he always caught a glimpse of her hair, or the edge of her purple scarf tied around her hips. In one street he thought he had lost her for good, when he heard the faint strumming of a tambourine coming from under the cloak of a veiled figure walking hand in hand with a little girl. He slowly followed them, the tall figure didn't turn, but the little girl periodically turned and watched him. When the figure, which turned out to be an unknown singer, finally approached them within two steps, she pushed the little girl into the next alley. “Run Jenny.” she called to her and ran into another alley that turned out to be a dead end.,, Now what about songbird, looks like you're trapped.” he taunted. "Don't worry, prince, I won't be in it for long," she snapped back at him. He didn't even realize it, but they were standing in an alley that housed a woodworking shop. A log was leaning against the wall that blocked the end of the street. Like a wild cat, the woman leaped onto that log and climbed onto the roof of the wall and kicked the log down so he couldn't climb up to her.,, Goodbye one eyed prince I hope you enjoyed my performance.” she taunted him.,, Once I will catch you and then your treacherous head will be exposed for all to see.” he cursed at her. "That sounds very good, you're very interesting Targaryen prince, maybe I'll write my next song about you." But before the girl could disappear, her scarf got caught on a piece of chipped wall, unfortunately the woman was already jumping to the other side of the wall, so her scarf remained gets stuck in the wall.

The next day, a new song about the one-eyed Targaryen was heard throughout the city.

Hey, Aemond, how’s it feel to be so bold? With all your fire, yet your heart is cold. Hey, Aemond, playing the warrior prince, We all laugh at your pretense. In the shadow of your brother, you try to stand tall, But you're just a puppet at the grandest ball. Scheming and plotting, with your dragon's might, But when it comes to bravery, you’re out of sight. You talk of honor, of strength and pride, But without your dragon, where do you hide?

Although the song offended him, something inside him warmed his heart. He made such an impression on her that she wrote a song about him. He could only smile and listen to her voice waft through the city as he pulled her scarf to his nose and breathed in her scent. It was a mix of herbs and smoke, the combination made his cock harden again, and his red head was already leaking some of his spending onto his stomach.

Oh, the next time he sees you won't run away from him, he'll keep you as his own little bird just for his pleasure, he'll put you in a golden cage so you'll never fly away from him again.

Pt.2????

If anyone have request i would be happy to write it for you.

And only best for you. kisses

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Stolen Wife

Synopsis – Tommy Shelby is married to Grace but he becomes obsessed with Y/N, wife of Reuben Fitch, Tommy’s business partner in the U.S. who is unaware of his actual “business”

This blog supports Palestine. Zionists are not welcome here.

As soon as the papers were signed for new consignment delivery and the ink was dry on the paper, Tommy decided to throw a curveball, to get to know his elusive new business partner.

“Grace is throwing a party for some charity. She asked me to invite you and your wife.” Tommy said carelessly.

“Party…?” Reuben asked in confusion, he had never mixed business with pleasure or even family.

“Don’t you Americans have over the top exuberant parties?” Tommy taunted the former soldier.

“We do, but I don’t believe in getting my family involved with the people I do my business with…” Reuben tried to reject the offer as politely as he could.

But little did he know, Thomas Shelby was not going to give it up so easily.

“It is a charity ball for orphaned kids nothing dangerous, I’m sure your Mrs can handle one night with the Shelbys” Tommy cajoled.

“Mr. Shelby, I don’t mix my work with my personal life. It is better that way and I certainly do not involve my wife in anything related to this side of my business.” Rueben tried to argue his way out this predicament.

“It is not going to be anything illegal or even borderline illegal, I have promised Grace that I will do no shady dealings at the ball.” Tommy reiterated.

“I really don’t mix my business and personal life and I would like to keep it that way.” Rueben did not budge. 

Tommy lit a cigarette, giving himself time to think of any other way of getting insight into Rueben’s life, any pressure point that can be exploited if needed. Tommy’s other attempts had been in vain; soldiers in Rueben’s rank had been tight-lipped about everything, something he admired about Rueben and his tightly reigned empire.

Tommy took out the invite from his drawer and handed it to Rueben as a last resort.

“Take this, will you, I don’t want Grace finding it here. I will tell her you are busy” Tommy added defeatedly.

Rueben pocketed the invite not wanting to further prolong the conversation with the king of Birmingham.

Ruben got up and held out his hand to shake Tommy’s to read his temperament. Tommy shook Rueben’s hand with mild annoyance, annoyance that he hadn’t been able to pierce the armor around Fitch and his gang.

Rueben gave Tommy his charming smile, he was relieved that Tommy dropped the subject.  He was never going to let his two worlds mix. You were too precious for him to be tainted with what his not-so-legal life is filled with, the grotesque violence, the depravity, the drugs among other things.

Tommy decided that he needed to find another way to find any weak spot in Rueben’s Gang.

What he did not expect was for Grace to get Rueben to the ball.

When he saw Rueben at the ball, he was astonished…Apparently, Grace had run into the loving couple at the marketplace and somehow convinced Rueben’s wife to come to the ball. Tommy could not describe the feeling when he saw you for the first time…There you were looking glorious and innocent like a princess in a purple dress. He gulped visibly, he now understood why Rueben kept you away.

[milliesfishes]

Hi was listening to special death and I CANNOT stop thinking of billy with an x witch reader please 🥺🥺🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: talk of witchcraft, trauma pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: witch reader x billy the kid author’s note: anon, this has been on my mind forever since you sent it I hope you enjoy! Open to doing a part 2 btw let me know <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Billy had always taken a liking to those on the outcast side of society.

Since he himself fell into that category, he paid special attention to the ones those with exorbitant amounts of money declared misfits. They were a curious subject to him since he often discovered them not to be what everyone declared.

When there were whisperings of a new face in town, one passerby pronounced as strange, his attention was piqued. Billy wasn't a gossip by any means, but he leaned in a little whenever he heard someone talking about said soul.

"She's very odd," one woman said as she examined a bushel of apples, not bothering to quiet her tone. "Moved into a little cottage over the glen and hasn't spoken to anyone yet."

"I saw her one morning," her companion said, nodding along. "Out in the hills shamelessly, shoulders uncovered, gathering plants. I'm so glad she hasn't come into town. Although it'd give us a good laugh, I suppose."

Billy stopped listening after that, their facts trickling into fiction. He was used to the way women in the marketplace spoke about each other, and usually he paid them no mind. But this was interesting. Most folks didn't move to this little corner of the world, willingly or not.

As the weeks passed, the whispers about the new woman in town grew louder. When he heard a few men in the saloon talking about her, his interest was really captured. Usually, the only thing they talked about was work or the game at hand. Now the only topic on their tongues was the woman with long hair who did strange things in the woods.

"She's a witch," one older man said earnestly, setting his hand down. "Ain't never seen anythin' like it. Someone oughtta drive 'er out before she curses us all."

"Nah, she won't hurt anyone," another man chortled. "Saw 'er myself the other morning. Timid little thing. The second she saw me she bolted. Doubt we'll hear from her much."

"Gives our wives somethin' new to talk about," the cowboy across from him said, tossing a few coins into the pot. "Good thing too. I was sick of hearin' 'bout who's doin' what at the inn."

A witch? That was a new one. Billy had been told tales of spellcasters both good and evil in his mother's Irish fairy tales, but he'd never heard of one existing. It was a far-fetched notion. One he was keen to discover the truth of. One he didn't know he would stumble upon.

The morning was was misty and cloudy, the sun barely risen over the hills. He hummed to himself as he guided his horse to a forest-y part of the hills. Now was the best time to be out. The world was quiet, the chatter of everything quieted by a required action of unconsciousness.

He peered through the thick branches, dismounting and tying his horse when he saw something moving. There was a little clearing nearby, and he wondered if a deer had wandered in to graze.

But when he got closer, he realized the presence was human. He could make out long hair and a white dress between the leaves. Then when he pushed willow leaves aside, he finally saw you clearly.

Graceful and lithe, you pushed your hair aside as you gathered a purple flower from a bush he recognized as lavender. The thin strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, and he found himself staring at the expanse of skin exposed. As you bent over, he could see the tops of your breasts, a single pendant on a ribbon tucked between them.

Instantly he knew you were the woman everyone was talking about. When they said witch he'd pictured an old crone with gray hair and time worn skin. But here you were, youthful and smooth and lovely.

The way you moved was mesmerizing. There was an air about you that made it impossible to look away. It was more than being attracted; Billy had certainly felt that before. This was something different. This was being drawn like a magnet, being helpless to the pull of your gravity. And you were in your own world, unaware of him, of anything at all.

He watched, captivated, as you tied your lavender with a ribbon, sticking it into a little bag so the purple poked out. Now you were climbing a tree expertly, crawling across a branch that hung over a tall patch of wild roses.

Cocking his head, Billy observed you turn upside down, still hanging from the branch like a sloth. Your hair fell like a curtain he longed to part. You stretched your neck to see below you, squinting a bit. Positioned right over the middle of the large patch, he was confused at what exactly you were doing.

Then in an instant you let go.

Billy's hand stretched out as if he could reach you from where he was standing. His jaw dropped, eyes wider than saucers as he watched you fall like a ragdoll into the mess of brambles and blooms.

He jumped into action, running before he knew what he was doing. Thorns gnawed at him when he pushed through the stems in an attempt to get to you. The result was sharp bouts of pain that made him wince, and he had to stop halfway there, grunting and touching the scratches on his face and arms. His fingers came back bloody.

There was a rustling sound, and your head popped up, eyes wide, plants coming up to your shoulders. With a furrowed brow, you called, "Are you okay?"

Oh, your voice was musical. A song he wished he could sing, a song that wouldn't sound as lovely unless it was coming from your mouth. He managed a half smile. "Ah...little tangled up."

You were moving closer with worried eyes. "Did you fall in?"

"N-no," he managed, disarmed as you came near. Being close to you was like drinking too much whiskey- it sent his head into a buzz. "But you did."

Pausing, your lips parted in realization. Now you knew what he had been trying to do. "I see."

"But you're-" Now you were reaching out a smooth hand, touching his face and turning it to the side so you could presumably see the battle scars from the sharp vines. The feel of your touch cut him off for a moment. He could see your eyes more clearly, and there was a spark in them he couldn't place. Maybe if you stood like this forever, he'd spend an equal amount of time drowning in them.

As you studied him, he studied you. Despite the fact you'd fallen right into the roses, there wasn't a single scratch on you. You were utterly untouched. He opened his mouth to ask, but you frowned, turning his cheek to the side. You took off his hat, so the shadow of the brim didn't disturb your view.

Clicking your tongue regretfully, you looked at him apologetically. "Come with me. I'll get you something for all these..." you gestured at the mess of his bodily afflictions.

Billy didn't think he'd ever be able to say no to you. He merely nodded as you put his hat back on his head, moving elegantly through the bush. The thorns slid over your skin like it was made of glass. He followed you, wincing as the same plants re-scratched him.

Once you were both out, he noticed you were holding a bunch of the wild roses, tied with a ribbon just like the lavender had been. You shoved it into your bag, picking it up and smiling a little at him. "C'mon. I can help you if you want."

A little wistfully, he nodded, looking back behind him. "My horse-"

Like clockwork, his horse appeared from the thicket from where he'd left it. Billy shook his head, sure he was seeing things. You didn't seem surprised by it, however, merely reaching out to the creature.

"Be careful, he-" Billy's warning was lost as he saw his normally finnicky horse nuzzle against your hand. He was baffled.

You handed him the reins. "I don't live very far away."

Powerless to stop your draw, he followed you.

You were quiet on the short journey, facing forward. The sun was higher now in the sky, and it illuminated you beautifully. He had a feeling any element would suit you. Practically one of the earth's daughters, you glowed here as if you were born directly to it.

The cottage in which you resided was simple, surrounded by wildflowers. Vines crept up the walls, kissing the roof. It was quaint and charming, just like you.

He tied his horse at the fence, and you produced a carrot from your bag, feeding it to the animal before leading Billy inside.

The walls were lined with shelves of old books. There were vases of flowers on every surface, but they weren't filled with water as expected. Instead, mounds of little shells held them in place. He could see jars full of herbs and liquids, lit candles lighting the space. You set your bag down on a table in the center, beckoning him to sit.

He did, watching you flit around the room, reading the labels on jars until you found the perfect one, popping the cork and peering inside. Nodding once, you came back over to him. "Here-" you removed his hat once again and dipped your fingers in the jarred substance, dabbing it where the thorn scratches must be.

The paste wasn't unpleasant smelling, and he liked that you were so close. Billy could see clearly your silky hair and smooth body. He wanted to run his fingers over it, see if it was as soft as it looked.

You knelt at his side, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm to put substance over the wounds there too. He smiled at the sight. "Are you a healer?" He didn't know if witch was the correct term.

Looking up at him, you offered him a little tilt upward of your lips. "Is that what they say in town about me?"

"Well..." he squinted as he thought. "Not exactly."

"I figured," you resumed your task, and he enjoyed the feel of your fingers on his skin. "For what it's worth, I do not wish to hurt anyone."

With your kind eyes and seemingly gentle demeanor, he hadn't thought you would. He told you so. Now your smile was wider. "That's nice of you to say. It seems I'm a danger to everybody else."

He shook his head. "You're helpin' me."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, and his heart fluttered. "Do you know what I am?"

Billy was lost in the universe of your eyes for a second. He thought of the way you'd glided through the thorns, retaining nary a remnant. The way you seemed to have such a way about you that was nearly magical. His tone was light when he guessed. "You're a witch?"

Your eyes were unchanging, when he half expected a rain of fire to engulf him. "It's funny. I've had that term lobbed at me in anger a thousand times. But you say it so casually. You say it the way I do."

"My mama used to tell me stories about witches," he nodded, noticing with awe that his scratches were fading into his skin as if he'd never been grazed. "Not all of 'em were bad."

Tilting your head, your smile grew. "She was right about that. It's just like people. Not everyone is fully good or evil. But majority rules."

The way you spoke was so lilted. He could listen for hours. "And you're good."

"I hope so," you said, and he caught a hint of melancholy in your eyes. But you shook it off as quickly as it appeared, rolling his other sleeve up and leaning over his slightly parted knees to put your salve on that arm.

"Did ya live near here before?" he asked, eager for information about you.

You resumed dabbing. "No. I used to live by the ocean."

He caught sight of the shells in the vases again. "'S far from here."

"It is." Standing up, you examined his face again, soft fingers gracing his jaw and positioning his head to the side. Tracing his jawline, you examined the area, fingers ghosting his stubble. "I miss it a lot. It was very beautiful."

"I can imagine," he nodded lightly, careful to keep his head in place. "And have ya always...ah...practiced witchcraft?"

A little giggle escaped your lips at his hesitation. "You can say it. It's okay." Then you shook your head. "No. Not always. But I was in a bad way and a different witch took me in. She healed me. And in exchange she spellbound me."

"Spellbound?" Billy felt like he was pressing for information, but he couldn't help it. You were so fascinating to him.

You either didn't see it that way or didn't mind. "Very few witches are born. They're nearly always spellbound." Now your fingers were in his hair, pushing it back to check for any more injuries. It felt wonderful, and he slightly leaned into your touch. Delicately, you sat on his knee, leaning in to check closer. You smelled like lavender. His hand twitched, wanting to rest on your waist, but he resisted.

"When a witch finds a successor, she gives her powers to someone else," you explained, eyes roving over his face. "Then that someone else is spellbound. They take up the burden of witchcraft and practice it to keep the magic alive until they find their successor. Usually when someone is spellbound, they've been an apprentice to that witch for a while. But she was getting older, and she hadn't found anyone and..." you trailed off, looking away. "It was easier to trade favors."

"There's no way to get out of it otherwise?" Billy questioned, searching your eyes.

"It's dangerous," you confessed. "That's when you give the power back to the earth, where it came from. I've looked into it. But in order for the current vessel of power to remain living afterward, the powers have to be more good than evil. And since they're passed down so many generations, and the vessel often doesn't know by who..."

"You can never know how much good there really was," Billy finished, guessing at it. You nodded, and a spark of pride lit in him.

"It's safer to give them to someone else," you concluded. "I haven't found anyone yet. The last town ousted me out before I could. And by the looks of things, I'm not sure I'll find anyone here either."

Billy could feel the deep sorrow in you like a tangible thing. He wanted to ask you more about it, about what had happened for the other witch to find you, about what exactly you did with your possessed power.

Instead, he reached up tentatively, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "You don't want the burden?"

"It's a heavy thing to carry," you said softly, and it tugged at his heart.

"'F course," he whispered, looking between your eyes. His fingers were still on your face. He couldn't resist drawing a line from your cheek to your chin. You let him, staring into his eyes.

"You're beautiful." Billy said it like a prayer.

"That'll be the magic," you half smiled.

He shook his head, thumb tilting your chin up. "No. It's you."

Before he knew it, he was leaning in, lips ghosting yours, almost like a question. And you responded, hands sliding over his shoulders, leaning into him. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and the sensation sent him reeling.

You were nothing short of enchanting.

Lips moving, he could feel the magic running through your veins. There was something electric in your touch, something about you that made him need you like water. It was like there was an ocean roaring inside you that he wanted to drown in.

His fingers grasped the ribbon around your neck, finding the pendant between your breasts and grasping it, using it to gently pull you closer. The ribbon untied, and fell from your neck.

Lips separating, you drew back, leaning your forehead to press against his. "Is this how you treat everyone who heals you?"

Billy was drunk off you, and he wanted another hit. "No." He chased your lips, catching them in another searing kiss. Splaying his fingers on your back, he found a fistful of your dress.

You let him kiss you lazily for a moment, lips dragging down to your neck, then your collarbone. Oh how he loved your collarbone. Nosing against it, he showered a series of soft kisses there.

Then he felt something brush against his leg. Pulling back, he looked down to find a black cat purring as it pawed at his shin. You followed his eyes, smiling slightly. "Sorry...that's Fish. He likes people."

Keeping the hand holding your pendant around your waist, Billy reached the other hand down and scratched Fish's head. "'S alright. Seems like a good fella'."

He could feel you watching him interact with the cat, and you didn't sway your eyes when he lifted his own to meet them. Smiling, he leaned in, pecking your lips once, then twice. That made you smile in turn, and you nudged your nose against him, hands on the sides of his face.

Noticing he was holding your pendant, you uncurled his fingers, tracing the shape of it against his palm. It was an oval, framed by gold. There were three little stars in the center, and you touched each one before folding his fingers over it again. "Keep it."

Billy looked up at you again. "You-?"

Both your hands came to clasp around his. "It's a witch's symbol. How we know each other. But I've been here for weeks and haven't found anybody. And I'm not going to find a successor. Keep it."

He wanted to protest the hopelessness of the statement, your resignation to the fact that you'd be weighed under your powers forever. But you seemed determined.

So, he intertwined your fingers, the pendant pressing between palms. Then he lifted them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. A promise to keep it safe.

Billy kissed your nose, and then breathed, "D'ya feel it?" The pulsing hypnotism that overwhelmed him whenever he looked at you, that sensation that he knew wasn't just the magic residing within you.

You traced runes into the skin of his cheek, pressing your lips there when you were done. "I feel it. This is real power."

Next part

[throwaway-yandere]

19th Century YANDERE!WANDERER x F!Reader idea:

You were once a well-liked farmer in a remote village. Despite owning a small library of your own, which was a massive social symbol of wealth at the time, you experienced no discrimination from both the rich and the poor. Each side treated you with respect for you grew the finest of fruits and vegetables at such a cheap price. Go any lower, and they'd think you were positively doing charity work. Every poor man and noble maids would line up each morning for a chance to buy "Lady (Y/n)'s produce".

However, you faced your peaceful life's turning point when a hooded young man opted to cut the line. With grace, you approached him and politely told him to follow the rules. You see, if he cannot respect others, how can he respect the food you've grown with such kindness and care?

That's when WANDERER's interest piqued. He understood little of the North's customs. Where he's from— most transactions can be accelerated with the help of a Fixer. When (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at the sight of his bribery, he understood that he royally messed up. He didn't apologize, but he admitted that he was wrong and left the marketplace. But that was when he knew, there might finally be a place for him after all the traveling he had done.

If the village thought your prices were near charitable, your approach to befriending the WANDERER certainly was saint-like behavior. You visited his inn and presented him with a bread basket. With a hearty laugh, you uttered hopes that you were not bothering him as you watched him fix his bed-head. The dark-haired man could only watch perplexed as you motioned to the chair and asked to sit down. You asked for his name, he didn't comply. You asked if you could call him "Iris", just like how you'd assign flower petnames to close friends, and he only replied with a morning grunt and a pinkish hue on his cheeks.

Iris Ensata, in the royal gardens, meant "a gentle heart". Whether you knew floral languages or not, each time you called him by that name, his chest tightens as though he has one.

He's grown fond of your conversations, but his travels cannot cease. WANDERER's goal had always been to find an ancient artifact his mother preached. Attaining it meant he would be the next to rule the land, for he was secretly the Crown Prince. He was vague whenever he talked about his troubles to you, but you instantly related to his musings. You yourself managed the farm because you wanted to please your father. He saw you as a lesser human, and decided that to prove your worth, you needed to manage your own small "empire". His mother was the same. Both of you were tested, and you are now standing on the same crossroad. To be a slave to a kin's whims, or to carve your own path? He had yet to decide that for himself...

Hence, when stress had taken its toll, he pulls out his map to find his way back to you. Moonshines later, he reached the point where he no longer required one. His soul knew where you were. Where home was. Stopping by the village just to see you was always a lull before the storm. And he was incredibly excited to tell you that his adventure is now finished, and the crown now rests on his head.

But what if he was too late to salvage what was left of such a natural disaster? What if the lull was eerie? What if the lull was a silent void he could never get rid off?

In his return, he found not a storm, but a rain of fire. There, at the center of the square, was you. The smell of singed hair defiled his senses, and your face burned in his mind. He saw you everytime he closed his eyes.

"BURN THE WITCH!!! BURN THE WITCH!!!"

The mob drags on. And on. And on. The chant does not stop. He stands there, petrified.

When only the lull remains, he pulled down his hood and looked over to the stake you once stood.

"It's just ashes..." He muttered. "Nothing left but a-ashes..."

He chuckled, humorless. His voice was once a small crackling sound, like the fire that took you, until it erupted into a full blown laughter. His eyes were wide, and his grip on both your ashes and the earth you once tended to and loved made his knuckles white. The WANDERER— no, The CROWN PRINCE laughed hard in his mind, but that was not what the townsfolk heard.

What they heard was the alarming anguished screams of a lover who had everything he had stolen away.

He will be merciful, for he knew you still loved your friends and neighbors even when they had tied and burnt you to crisps. He will make their deaths brief. As brief as his soldiers could make this whole village burn and purged off all its filth.

Maybe when the spring comes back, so too will you return. Maybe once he had purged off all the filth in this village's wreckage, he'll find his home.

But until then, there is no longer any sense of gentleness in his own heart.

[quintessencewrites]

Y-yes, Daddy pt. 3

college student!ShuRiri x college student!black!fem!reader

Her eyes sent the message that her lips didn’t; they couldn’t, too busy being bitten to the flesh between Riri’s perfect rows of teeth, the gold on her lower set mirroring the gold around her neck.

Warnings: (buckle up, there are a few) 18+!!!!! Smut HEAVY, dom! Shuri, switch! reader, switch! Riri, cuckold? voyeurism, fingering (reader receiving), oral sex (reader/ Riri receiving). rough sex (reader/Riri receiving), public sex? explicit language (as always), double penetration (not saying who, it's a surprise), anal sex (not saying who), heavy praise kink, slight illicit drug use, strap slinging! all three of them... etc because I know I missed a few...

Word count: 8.4k+

Tags:

@percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rose @saintwrld @someshuriposts @jessiap @ilikegecos @iiluvl4n @katymae12344 @shurismainbxtch @crookedsaladlover @motheroffae @saintwrld @marsolgy @ogbells16 @verachii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @dominquesheart @shuridefenselawyer @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @cansah2002-blog

A/N: Y'ALL!!! I'M BACK <3 I don't know how to thank you guys enough for checking in on me while I was gone and giving me such grace while I got myself together a bit <3 I love you guys

Dedicated to my baby, @inmyheadimobsessed, Yes Daddy's biggest fan, president of the fan club, and one of my biggest supporters. She also gave me an idea for one of the scenes in this so co-writing status goes to her <3 Anyways ily, Lyric. As always, I hope I did you justice.

The cobalt waters glistened around your figure, swaying to and fro with a serenity unlike any you’d experienced. Eyes closed, face warm from the sun’s rays kissing your skin, Wakanda was a beauty to behold, with such vibrancy in its colors and its people. 

Its marketplace was adorned with rich tapestries, the palace was picturesque. The rivers that flowed through the heart of the capital flowed the bluest blue you’d ever seen; the grass was too green, the sand too yellow. 

“You grew up here? Shuri, it's fucking beautiful. Why would you ever leave?”

Riri’s hand never left yours, excitement traveling back and forth between your bodies. “I’d asked her the same thing, baby.”

“It’s unreal. It’s cartoon-like, like the trees and flowers, even the fucking sky, were painted that bright.”

Shuri couldn’t deny the pride that swelled within her at your awe of her home. She’d experienced it with Riri the first time she brought her over, and now, with you, her heart skipped a few beats just the same.

Your mouth dropped at every spectacle, arms wide, ready to engulf every new person. Merchants shared your contagious grin when you approached their displays, excitement beaming across every feature on your face. 

“Princess, Miss Williams,” they greeted. They’d nod in return, dropping a wave or two every now and again.

Shuri fell into your forestep, presenting a beam just as wide. Her usually too-cool demeanor dissipated the moment her sandaled foot touched the Wakandan dirt. Even Riri couldn’t deny the peace that the country brought forth from her. Her shoulders fell, relaxed for the first time in weeks as the stress of midterms and exams and assignments finally evaporated. 

 The princess hadn’t anticipated taking you home to meet ma dukes so soon, but you were ready. 

“Wakanda? Why?”

You rolled your eyes, an exasperated sigh floating from your lips and through the air. Riri sat on the other side of your dorm room, man spread with a wrap between her fingers, preoccupied, but still tuning in. “I told you, y/n.”

“Hush, Ri. She ain’t even say no yet.”

“I’m waiting to hear why before I say no.”

Upon your face were the biggest, roundest, neediest eyes Shuri had ever seen. Your bottom lip protruded into a plump little pout that quickened the pace of her heart. In her mind, she’d already lost. Regardless of the reason, she wasn’t going to be able to deny that look.

“Because it's spring break, I’m tired of the same old beach trips, and I’ve never been,” you walked closer, until your bosom rested on her stomach, eyes batting up at her with sweetness. “What better tour guide than the Princess?”

“Give it up, baby. Ain’t no way she gon say yes that ea-”

“Shut up, shortie. What better tour guide than the Princess, right?”

Shuri made plans to take you to her home that very night.

You were ready to visit the fairytale-like land; the very place where the rumors of its grandeur couldn’t even do it justice. The place where vibranium ran through its streets and every shade of brown sparkled under the sun's rays like a spotlight on the deserving natives. 

You were ready to meet their monarch, the powerful woman whose monologue at the State of the Union address those few years ago still gives you goosebumps. The awe-inspiring mother who raised such a capable daughter, so unlike herself and allowed her off to the States. 

You were ready to put a face to the names Shuri and Riri spoke of, those who were oceans away and still held such a prominent place in their worlds, one which you wished to be a part of. 

Thank Bast, or God, or fate, or whatever the hell it was for placing you at MIT at the same time as Shuri and Riri. Their pervertedly twisted minds complimented yours so beautifully, like the missing piece in a complex puzzle. 

 Nerves didn’t dare touch you when the Queen greeted you, slender, loving arms pulling you in, holding you tight, and giving you a motherly love you hadn’t felt in quite some time. 

“Y/n,” the older royal’s voice was booming. “Shuri, umhle (she’s beautiful).”

“Ndiyazi (I know), mother.”

“Grinnin’ like a dummy” Riri’s voice was a barely-heard whisper, not risking her words to be heard by the well-respected monarch. 

Shuri's eyes threw daggers at the small girl, an even smaller smile playing at her lips. She felt such serenity at your acceptance of her country that not even Riri’s words would get to her. 

The young royal wanted so badly to praise you, to kiss you, to shower you in the melody of ‘good girls’ that you deserved. 

Slender fingers snaked around your exposed waist, rippling the water around you and pulling your mind back to the present. Your lids lulled open, meeting a familiar gaze in the foreign place.

“Hey, ma.”

 The scent of cocoa butter radiated off you in an aura. Riri inhaled deeply, taking it in, entangling her brain with your essence in a dizzying spell. You were so soft under her touch, your chocolate-colored skin melting in her hands.

Her head was heavy against your shoulder, pushing her weight against yours until your back was pressed into the damp marsh of the riverbank. 

The lifting of your hand and caressing of her curls was instinctual and Riri softened even further underneath your fingertips. She’d been wanting this for hours; just to fall into your hold, to grab you and know that you were really there. 

Barely an arm's length away stood your princess with Nakia, engulfed in a conversation of their own, paying you no mind. Okoye sat close by, only allowing her feet to be swallowed by the water’s gentle waves.

“I see the States are treating you well, Shuri?” Nakia’s light voice curved at the end of her sentence, a tease evident between her words. 

“What makes you say that?”

“You haven’t returned home yet is what.”

“I haven’t graduated yet, Okoye.”

A string of mumbles leaves the general’s mouth, laced with curses. “You’ve gotten greedy, Princess.”

Shuri leans over the shore, elbows resting in the sand. “Greedy how?”

“You went to America for school, not to become a sister-wife.”

The poor young royal can’t hold back the laughter that erupts from her. “A sister-wife?! What the fuck are you talking about, Okoye?”

“You need two girlfriends, Shuri?”

“I do.”

“For what?”

Shuri’s wandering gaze over to you and Ri is full of desire that spills over her ducts like a tear. “They both got something different to offer.” 

Riri caught Shuri’s gaze from the corner of her eye. Of course, her majesty was watching you. She was always aware of what her girls were up to, both on and off campus. She saw the way Ri’s nails grazed the small of your back and the way your body curved upward in response, pressing your two figures into one another even further. 

She saw Riri’s hands travel further and further south, tickling your skin until they stiffened in the waistband of your bikini bottoms and came to a stop. Shuri’s breath caught in her throat, waiting and watching, wondering how far Riri would go considering the audience that surrounded them. 

Riri knew Shuri was watching. She wanted her to; she wanted her to see the effect she had on your body, without Shuri’s presence. She knew the panther could smell the heat radiating from your frame, pressed tightly against hers.

 So tight, so close that the chain that never left Ri’s neck was resting in your bosom. The chill of the metal contrasts with the humidity in the air and causes a shiver to travel down your spine.

It was such a slight movement, one that didn’t go unnoticed by either girl. Those mocha-colored eyes that you adored bore into yours, and baby, if only you could read the filthy thoughts behind them. 

Luckily, you didn’t have to. Riri wanted you and she wasn’t being slick about it. Her slender fingers toyed with your bottoms, one hand gently tugging the drawstring that held the thin pieced fabric together. The other grazed the front of your dangerously low waistband, touching your sensitive skin, but barely. 

“You’re so pretty, y/n, baby. I tell you that enough?”

“More than enough, Ri.”

Hmm, the distracted girl hums. “I like this swimsuit on you.” Her fingers don’t move from your waistline, playing and fiddling with the fabric there, tugging it away now and again. 

You wanted more; you craved more, and Riri didn't need to be a mind-reader to come to that conclusion either. Her eyes sent the message that her lips didn’t; they couldn’t, too busy being bitten to the flesh between Riri’s perfect rows of teeth, the gold on her lower set mirroring the gold around her neck. 

She cocked a thin brow and a devilish smirk played across her face. Her thin fingers continued to move, slowly and meticulously so that the water didn’t stir. 

Shuri caught the exact moment Riri succeeded in untying the dainty strings of your swimsuit. Her gaze traced your startled features when the fabric floated away from your body. 

“Riri, what the fuck?” It’s supposed to come out intimidating and intense, but the pitch of your voice and vibrato in your vocal cords melodizes a low moan from your lips instead. 

Underneath the still waters, from the waist down, you are completely naked. Everyone is oblivious; except Riri, whose actions were intentional, and Shuri, who was using every bit of restraint held in her slim frame to remain stoic.

“You gonna be good for me, baby? Good and quiet?” Riri’s lips brush the sensitive skin where lobe meets neck. In the back of your throat is a low moan, one that you know can’t be expelled. It stays tucked away and you nod instead, head barely moving, bobbing curls that can be explained away by the breeze. 

Shuri’s truly amused at the sight before her and the reaction it has on her body. She’s hypnotized by Riri’s fingers playing with you, gliding through your slit, brushing against your tender bud much too gently for your liking. The wetness in your folds can’t be deciphered from the wetness of the water, yet those bejeweled nipples that stood at attention, straining behind the padding of your top, exhibited the arousal that started in your toes and crept its way upward. 

She’s amazed at how little the water moves around you, eyes darting back and forth between you struggling to remain quiet and the conversation she held a part in with lifelong friends. Her mouth waters at the thought of you, so exposed. Thoughts of how fucking wet you must have been, how slick your pussy was, calling out for her. 

Your mind is muddled, completely ignorant of the extra set of eyes on you. Riri’s teasing you, never putting her long phalanges right where you want them. She’s taking her sweet time, mapping out every line, dip, and curve of your core. Her touch is too light for your liking as the neediness in the pit of your stomach expands. 

She’s got a few moments left in this game of cat and mouse before you break and the moan you try to disguise as a cough tells her just that. 

Shuri’s eyes wander back over at the sound she knows all too well. She couldn’t help but smirk at the noise. The heat she burns into the back of Riri’s head causes the distracted girl’s head to turn, resting her gaze on the princess’s watchful glare.

Ri’s brow raised once more in a silent question to Shuri, one that you weren’t able to decipher. 

Too bad for you. 

She doesn’t even look at you as her dark eyes drag slowly down Riri’s small frame and back up. Her chiseled face is unreadable to you and with a nod, a quick tilt of her chin towards the sky,  Ri reaches for your bottoms, dragging them back between your two bodies. 

“Lemme help you put these back on, baby,” Her whisper is so low, it’s almost nonexistent. 

Your sigh in response is frustrated, so sexually frustrated, just oozing an attitude Riri wants no part of. “You fucking tease-”

Her hand leaves the water, snaking around your chin and drawing your faces together. 

“I’m not done yet, baby. Just listen, damn.”

The chill behind her words shut you up immediately. Silence washes over you as your choppy movements ripple in the water, too quick for Nakia and Okoye to notice anything but your smiles, plastered across your face like a mask.

Shuri’s stifled laughter reeks of “I know.” The way she looks at you, so deep, so suggestive makes it clear she knows exactly what you two were up to. Her voice pulls her friend's attention back to her, those glistening coffee-bean-hued eyes dancing with knowing. 

“Nakia, how is my little Toussaint?” 

Riri’s body emerges from the river first, bottoms hanging so low on her waist, the indent where her abs meet her pelvis winks at you. Her hand reaches down, extending to you and the little effort it takes for her to lift you from the water is beyond impressive. 

Your drenched swimsuit runs streaks of water down your body, glistening against your dark skin like glitter. Your steps falter, the quiver from your heat making its way down your legs and tripping you. Riri guides your walk back to the palace, a ‘goodbye’ to Shuri barely playing on your lips as she lingers. Squelching emits from your soaked steps, following Ri’s quick ones. 

Goosebumps prickle your skin at the icy air in the palace, the large place still maze-like to you. Riri, however, is an expert guide. She makes every turn with precision, every array of large doors leading somewhere. 

Her steps suddenly stop, in the nook of a long hallway. Yours skip a bit, not expecting her sudden standstill, and her cool hands, still damp and shriveled from the water, reach for your bicep, pulling you into her. 

“Ri-what?”

Her lips crash into yours, kissing you the way she’s craved all day. They’re moving in sync, tasting every crook of her mouth, entangling your tongues, and swapping saliva. The moan that remained trapped in your throat finally releases, deep and breathy between her lips.

“Couldn’t wait til we got to the room. Need you, now.” 

The way Riri’s hands travel your body, the way they hunger to hold you, squeeze you, anywhere, everywhere. It’s fucking intoxicating, coating your mind like a drug.

“W-wait, fuck, Ri,” her lips move from yours, trailing down your jaw, licking up your neck in such a way that you shudder. She’s famished now, having had a taste of you, and she needs more. Her lips attack your throat, nipping and biting. You’re close, so close to melting in her arms, right then and there.

“Come on baby, you know my name and it ain’t Ri. Say it.”

There was a part of you that hated the effect their vulgar words had on you. They were so lewd, so perverted, and they had such a fucking hold on you. The dampness in your bottoms couldn’t be explained away solely by your swim any longer and Riri knew it. She could feel your body temperature rise, your skin growing warmer under her touch. 

“Ma-”

She tasted the word from your lips, growling at what they did to her. She couldn’t keep her hands off you, overwhelmed, not knowing where to grab. They rested on your right breast, squeezing, but she removed them quickly, afraid that your left one would grow envious at the lack of attention it was receiving. Caressing your back didn’t feel exact either; your front being so soft- there it was, begging for her fingertips to sink into it as well. 

Riri’s mind was racing an unwinnable race. What if the Queen was around, or the Dora? What if her body broke, fucking fell apart, needing so much of your touch that it couldn’t be satisfied by the little bit you were offering up?

Your still-wet (now even wetter) bikini bottoms were glued to your skin. The effort it took for Riri to pull them away from you, to pull them to the side just enough to reveal your pussy to her left water dripping to the stone floor beneath you. 

She wasted no time. Fuck all the teasing she did before, Riri fucking needed you. Her lips were on yours once more as she lined up two fingers at your entrance, preparing herself to swallow the moans that would spill from your lips. 

And swallow them she did, keeping your lips connected until she was knuckles deep, only coming up for air once your moans had died down to whimpers. 

“My good girl, baby. I know you can be quiet, right?”

You weren’t so sure. As soon as those digits got to moving, you knew that biting your tongue would be a near-impossible task. 

“C’mon, baby. Gotta be quiet so I can fuck you good.”

How pathetic was it, the way obedience ran through your veins? Your nod was hard, curls bouncing back in forth. “I’ll be quiet, ma,” the words quickly followed before Ri could correct you for not using them.

You felt your knees buckle beneath you the moment her slender fingers slid out of your wet center, only to be thrust in once more. What a beautiful pattern, one that left a warmth spreading through your body, face hot, cheeks hot, cunt hot. 

Ri knew your body better than no other, though she and Shuri were neck and neck. Her free hand had already slithered around your waist and her center of gravity shifted, preparing herself to catch you if your legs were to give out entirely. 

Your bottom lip was rolled between your teeth, moans collecting behind it. You were a sight to be fucking seen, a pussy full of creamy fingers, and eyes that begged and pleaded for more. 

“Look at you, baby. You doing such a good job, taking me like that.”

Riri was enjoying the sight before her, the tightness of your walls, clenching around her. She almost drooled when she looked down and saw the cum she was digging forth from you, collecting in the palm of her hand. Even she had to resist a moan as the need to taste you, to fuck you, to ruin you crossed her mind. 

The fingers trapped within you would not speed up, nor slow down, much to your demise. Your hips rocked, pelvis crashing back against Riri’s hand as you rode her. Whispered moans were shared between you, lewd praises being thrown your way. 

“Shit, baby, you doing so good. Look at you, fuck.”

Low moans were all you could respond with.

“You gon ride me like this in the room, pretty girl? Gon let me get strapped up and watch you bounce on my dick?”

Fuck, Riri’s words had opened the floodgates. She could feel you tightening and convulsing around her fingers. Your moans had grown at that point, but she couldn’t stop you, Your head was thrown back, so her lips couldn’t cover yours. She couldn’t use her hands either; one of them was holding up your limp figure, the other, still being ridden into the sunset. 

You’d earned those moans, she decided, and as soon as you were done, the trek to your room would continue. 

All Riri could do was watch as her fingers tipped you over the edge. Your chest strained against your top, rising and falling with every gasp; those lips, round and full and so fucking biteable, parted and poised as you came. 

A sea of thoughts swam through Riri’s pretty mind, not a single one of them an intelligent one. There wasn’t a moment when she didn’t think you were stunning, but baby, when you came? Ugh, it fucking did things to her, bringing forth groans from her chest. 

Your brows furrowed, your body stilling and Riri’s hand was drenched. “Ohh, shit-” Your voice shook, just as unsteady as your legs, but Ri had you. 

“I know, baby, I know.”

You were a bit louder at this point, your voice echoing off the tall walls. Riri wasn’t religious, but she was truly praying to Bast that no one would wander upon you two. 

Her thighs were pressed together, her body shaking a bit, still in the wet swimsuit. You didn’t even have to touch her for her body to react. Just watching you, so vulnerable, so needy, all over her-just for her. 

Your head rocked back up slowly, eyes finally meeting Ri’s. A deep blush grew in your chest and rose to your face. Riri’s was adorned with a sexy smirk, one so delicious. 

“Good girl, baby.” 

You had made Riri soft and she hated to admit it. She’d never been so gentle to someone, so tender. 

“You ready to keep walking?” She plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, pairing it with one on your neck, nuzzling her head into the sensitive space.

“How much further we got?”

She pulls her head from you and glances down the hall. “Um, not too far.”

Mm, you groan. “Do we have to? You could just take me right here.”

Riri’s chuckle is so deep and alluring. “Don’t tempt me, baby. C’mon, it’s not that far.”

“Carry me?”

She couldn’t tell you no. You knew she couldn’t. Neither of them could, especially Riri. You were spoiled in every sense of the word, and they’d stopped trying to deny you. Why should they? 

“Bridal style or piggyback?”

Your dark eyes danced with joy as she trekked through the halls, you upon her back with a goofy ass grin. 

She was right, it really wasn’t that far. 

The bed bounced when Riri finally dropped you on it, legs spread wide, bosom bouncing with the fall. 

Ri tapped your pussy through your bottoms, standing to retrieve her suitcase. “Off, baby.”

You were eager, the fabric still sticking to your skin, falling to the floor with the weight of the water drenching them. Your damp pussy came into view to the girl across the room, whose breath caught in her throat at the delicious sight.

She watched you sit up and untie the strings to your top, the barely-there piece falling from your body. You watched her visibly drool when your breasts come into view, full and round, nipples erect, begging to be touched in any way.

You had her, every bit of her attention was on you, waiting so patiently for her to touch you.

Patience had never been your virtue, however. 

Your hands stuttered as they traced up your body, your nipples hardening at the sensation. With fingers you wanted so badly to be Riri’s, that you imagined were hers as she watched you from a small distance. 

The piercings adorning your bosom were one of her favorite parts of you. If her pupils could form tiny hearts, they would have. The sight before her was mouthwatering. Your fingers flicked the jewelry, that perfect little “O” forming on your lips. 

The heat in the air was palpable, the intimacy between you two undeniable. 

Your left breast weighed heavy in your hand as you brought it up, further and further until your tongue flicked out, eyes never parting from hers while you tasted your hard nipple and the metal pierced into it. 

Every bit of her demeanor cracked under the sexiness that was you. She stood frozen, in awe as you rose from the bed, strutting towards her on your toes, ass high, head even higher. 

You bent into her suitcase, finishing the task she’d abandoned. The harness was tucked away into the bottom, hidden beneath weeks worth of clothes. 

Still on your knees, you grab Riri behind hers, pulling her closer, until her clothes pussy sat in your face. “Here, lemme help you.”

The wet suit was already hanging so low on her waist that it only took a tug to drop them, her pretty, wet cunt coming to view in front of you. 

Your mouth is on her before you can resist the urge. She accepts your hands on her ass, holding her in place against your tongue. 

Riri’s hand rests on your head, trying so hard to keep her balance and not collapse. Your mouth goes to work, the taste of her satisfying your insatiable hunger. Her clit is so plump against your tongue, the sensitive bulb of nerves twitching, jumping away from the licks that won’t let up. 

“You taste so good, mami,” the urge to please fueled a courage unfamiliar to you. Riri bucked at your words, eyes rolling into her head. 

“Shit-“ the moans came from her in rapid succession, her lungs never fully expanding to take in a complete breath. They were music to your ears. Your pussy leaked, needing to be stuffed full of her. 

You couldn’t part from her just yet. Her hands tangled in your hair, gripping and pulling. Your name was on her tongue, her abs flexed with the orgasm building within her. 

“Shit, baby, you doing so good.”

The praises rang in your ear, satisfying something deep within you. You lapped faster, sucking and slurping. Riri’s pussy was wet, the vulgar sounds echoing in the room. 

She was close-so fucking close. The juices that poured from her were streaming, dripping onto your tongue with a taste that you couldn’t get enough of. Her body burned, needing to feel you everywhere. 

Ri’s thick thighs trapped your head between them, drowning you in the waters that she released, so warm and sweet. Your satisfied moans vibrated within her and though your jaw grew sore, you weren’t stopping. 

Not until you’d planted a passionate kiss to her center, tonguing it as though those lips would kiss you back. 

She watched you stand to your full height with a look full of lust. Oh, she was gonna fuck you up. Riri no longer cared who heard; she needed to hear you scream her name, she needed the bed to be soaked and she needed you to spill over for her time after time. 

“Strap up, Ri.”

The harness had gone from your hand to hers as you backed away, returning to her suitcase to choose the dildo you so craved.

“Where’s mine?”

There were at least six toys, all stored away from any wavering eyes. They were different shapes and sizes, different lengths and girths, all ones that you’d used before.

“Which one, baby?”

Ri wasn’t looking at you, too preoccupied with the straps around her hips and thighs. 

“The vibranium one-“

“They’re all vibranium, y/n.”

You made an audible sound when your teeth smacked your lips, one that Riri took note of. 

“The one I like the most, Ri.”

“I don’t know which one you talking bout, baby,” she stepped towards you, reaching into the bag to pull a thick piece from it, securing the toy to her pelvis. 

“Guess we gotta try them all, see if any of them are ‘yours’.”

She sat on the bed, resting on her forearms, arm held out and welcoming you over. Your steps were slow, and when you were finally close enough, Ri grabbed your waist, pulling your legs on either side of her hips. 

“This how I like you most, pretty girl.”

You hovered over the thick cock awaiting you. Riri’s hands on your backside, eyes scanning you. She brought your hands to her chest and tilted her hips upwards. 

“Sit on it, baby.”

Her whispered commands floated softly to your ears and you groaned at them as the heat burned within your chest. Your pretty lips parted over the tip of her dick, her hands guiding your body onto the extremity. 

Ri was biting on her lip so hard, she was afraid it would bleed, but the sight of you would be worth it. Your body lowered, further and further and she could feel your pussy stretching over the thickness of her cock. She could feel your warmth as her tip kissed your cervix and your pelvis kissed hers. A deep groan rumbled in the back of her throat.

Your pussy felt so full. Beneath you, your legs quivered, the tightness of Riri in your cunt weakening you. “Ohh, fuck-”

Riri gave you a moment to get adjusted, lifting your hand to kiss the palm before resting it back above her chain, the metal cool compared to the heat emitting from your bodies. “Move, baby. Bounce on this shit.”

You weren’t one to be told twice. Knees planted, toes digging into the mattress, you gave her what she wanted. The faux dick slid in and out of you, slurping with your wetness. Ri’s head is thrown back, mouth wide open. “Fuck, baby-”

Riri was something to behold. Her brows furrowed, forehead pulled tight in concentration. Each time you landed back on her cock, your ass slapped her thighs and the sound vibrated through the room.

“S-so good, ma. D-dick so fucking good.” You were already stuttering between clenched teeth. It felt so good, so right. Riri fit into you like she was made for you. Your thighs started to burn, your speed picking up, throwing Riri’s small body into the bed each time your body slapped hers. 

“Griot, soundproof the room.”

Her African accent was thick and low and it shocked you to stillness. You hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Ugh, baby-” Riri didn’t give a fuck who had entered. She already missed the feel of your pussy swallowing her cock.

Shuri sat on the loveseat adjacent to the bed. Her swimsuit had been swapped out for a black shirt and jean shorts, Her chains swung around her neck with each movement, her curls hanging lower in her face than usual, still weighed down by the water. 

“Who told you to stop, intombi entle (pretty girl)?”

She rested her elbows on her knees, hands folded before her. Her tongue flicked over her lips, moistening them before her canines sunk into them. 

“Ri, fuck her.”

Wakanda was doing a number on all of you because Riri did as she was told with no smartass comeback. Her hands grabbed your wrist, pulling them from her chest and restraining them behind you. Alarm bells rang in your head, but you ignored them, your body too excited for what was to come. 

You could feel Shuri’s eyes on your ass, anticipating Ri’s next movements. She fiddled for a moment, her thick cock sitting stuffed between your walls, jerking into you just slightly. You were leaking around her, growing wetter at the watching panther. 

Riri’s first thrust was anything but gentle. You bounced back down on her dick with the echoing sound of skin slapping skin. “Oh, my g-”

Your words are gagged in your throat, the next thrust coming quick and hard, cutting you off. Shuri’s eyes follow your body as Riri finds her rhythm. 

“You fucking her good, Ri. Look at her, just taking that shit.”

You and Ri share a moan at Shuri’s praises. She can’t wait until she can step in and get a taste. She’s allured by your bouncing breasts, so heavy and needy, the way they jump with your gasps and Riri’s movements. Your cunt is spilling onto Riri’s thighs, causing a stickiness between you two that the princess can’t wait to get her mouth on. 

Your movements sputter, cries growing louder, climbing higher. You feel Riri deep-its like she's in your stomach, the way she pounds into you. You’re clenching around her, squeezing your thighs, praying away your impending orgasm. You weren’t ready to cum yet. You didn’t want her to stop, Bast, you didn’t want this to stop. The lack of feeling in your legs was nothing compared to the feeling in between them.

“Ooh, pretty girl. You gon cum already?”

Words no longer exist in your mind so your head shakes in response. Shuri doesn’t move, fueling your flame from her front-row seat. “You not? That dick not good enough to cum on? My bed not good enough for you to flood?”

Riri is fucking drilling you. Her hips rotate into yours, her cock digging into parts of your cunt that you don’t think have ever been reached. 

“C-cum on m-me, baby,” Riri is breathless, her own orgasm fighting to get past the dam she has in place. “F-flood my shit.”

Their words are too much-they’re always too much. You could be on the edge of a cliff and their words would be what pushed you over. It did, every time, and this time was no fucking different.

Your cunt rains down on the girl beneath you, a scream trapped in your chest as she continues amidst the mess you’re making. 

“Fuck-” it drags from Riri’s mouth. She can’t hold it anymore. You’re just too warm, too wet, too tight. “I-shit, baby, c-can I cum in you?”

A nod is all she gets as confirmation and it's more than enough for her. Your eyes hit the back of your skull when you feel her warmth fill you, pushing around the cock that was still buried within your walls. 

“Ooh, fuck, ma-” your words find you, still gasped and low. 

You raise up on shaky legs that fail you. Riri releases from your pussy with a wet squelch and you fall beside her, body spent, legs sore. Both of you lay side by side for a moment, hoping for a few moments to recover, but Shuri is having none of that.

She stands from the chair, eyes stuck on your dripping cunt. It’s calling her and she saunters over, a “good fucking girl” falling from her parted lips. Her large hands hook beneath your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the bed with swift movements. 

Her head dips to your sore center, blowing gentle, cool air over your soaked lips. They’re so pretty, so puffy. You quiver beneath her, “W-wait, Shuri, I need a second-”

“I don’t care,” Her tongue is flat and wide, licking your entire core. The moan she releases at your taste is primal. Both you and Riri’s juices dance on her tongue, and it's better than any chef-made meal she’s ever had. 

The princess’s lips cup your clit and suck. Your back arches, throwing more of your wetness into her face and she accepts it graciously. You feel her everywhere down there-tongue stiffening and darting into your slit, nipping at your lips, kissing on your clit. 

Her tongue picks up speed, developing a pattern. It goes from left to right, up and down, in circles and drawing shapes. A square, a triangle, an S-H-U-

“D-did you just spell out your name?”

A big, stupid grin stretches her cheeks when she parts with your pussy. “I did. Good girl, picking up on that.”

Her praises bring forth a slight chuckle from you. “Why?”

“It’s mine; you’re mine.” She shrugs and her lips are warm and wet when they return to yours.

Riri is mesmerized, stomach heaving. “Can I taste?”

Shuri’s eyes may leave you, but her mouth does not. She beckons Ri over with a quick nod, tongue on your clit while her finger toys with your entrance.

You thought Shuri would move then and make way for Riri, but you were so fucking wrong, it was laughable. 

Two tongues, two wet mouths were on your pretty little cunt and it was heavenly. Shuri and Riri had your sensitive bulb trapped between their tongues as they tasted you, tasted each other. 

“Fuck, fuck, please-”

“Please what, baby?” Riri’s voice was muffled, her head still between your thighs. She wasn’t talking to you, though. Her words were directed to the glistening pussy stuffed in their faces, begging for them to tear it apart.

Fingers enter you and again, you didn’t know whose they were, but they were fucking you, deep, hard, so damn fast. “You squeezing me so fucking tight, baby, damn. Squeeze on my fingers, just like that. Look at you, you doing such a good job.”

“I-shit, mm, I w-wanna cum, pleaseeee-” That last syllable dragged through the air. It was too much. Fingers and tongues and mouths, everywhere. You couldn’t tell them apart, but it didn’t even fucking matter. They were going to bring you to your release, orgasm after orgasm. They weren’t planning on stopping, there would be no breaks. 

“Ooh, Shuri, she asked so nicely.”

Mhm, she moaned, too busy with your clit in her mouth. “Give her what she wants then.”

There was perfection in their movements. The two fingers curved into your cunt were rubbing your G-spot every time, the tongue on your clit further tangling the sensitive nerves behind it. Baby, you were so fucking close, you just needed one more thing-

The third finger in your pussy is what did it. 

“F-f-uck, I, coming, da-shit-” You were drunkenly incoherent. The feeling was overwhelming, so much so that it hurt. Your body needed to get away, but it couldn’t move, frozen in place as pleasure mixed with pain. 

Shuri and Riri were soaked, faces still deep between your thighs as you squirted before them. They devoured you, not letting a single drop go to waste. Your juices ran down their chins, glistened on their cheeks. It was so sloppy, so fucking messy, and it was delicious, the way they swallowed you.

Finally, your sap ran dry and your breathing evened out. Shuri flicked your bean with her tongue once more before she parted with it.

“Aye, Ri-”

Riri’s eyes departed your quivering cunt with a roll. “I swear to God, if you say I took that like a bitch, Imma-”

Shuri’s lips shut her up, pressing hard against Ri’s. It catches the small girl off-guard for a moment, and her mouth drops open.

The princess uses that as her in, tasting your essence from Riri’s tongue. The kiss is sloppy, strings of spit connecting them, your cum being swapped between their mouths. Riri moans into it, and you follow up with one of your own. 

You can see their tongues caressing each other, twisting and tangling, and it's so damn sexy.

You’d never seen them like this, so tender with one another. 

Shuri drops Ri onto the bed beside you, their mouths never detaching. An idea forms in your mind at the sight and you will yourself to get up. Your sore muscles scream as you turn towards them, reaching between their close bodies to unfasten the harness still strapped to Riri. 

Her moans fill the room, coming out muffled underneath Shuri’s lips. Neither of them notices you leave the bed, moving through the room like a ghost. Riri’s suitcase is still open and at the very bottom, zipped behind a discarded pocket is exactly what you’re looking for.

You weren’t one to strap up often in this relationship, and you had no idea how the straps were supposed to go around your hips. “Shuri, c’mere.”

At the sound of your voice, Shuri pulls away from Ri, drool covering their faces and sparks behind their eyes. She turns and catches a glimpse of you, struggling with the harness, and cocks a sharp brow your way.

You can’t help the eye roll you let follow through. “C’mere, please?”

“That wasn’t the problem with that sentence, and you know it, baby girl.”

“I need help,” you whined, patience thinning. 

“What are you trying to do baby?” Shuri reaches you in two steps, her long fingers taking the harness from you and securing it properly. 

You ignore her, directing your next words at the girl still on the bed, watching, waiting for what was to come. 

“Ri, can I fuck you?”

Her mouth fell agape, stunned by the thought. You took her dick so damn well, but she had never taken it from you. The thought was dizzying, excitement in her bones, slick in her cunt.“Y-yeah, baby.”

“You sure it’s not you who need to get fucked again?” Shuri grabs your face, index finger, and thumb sinking into your dimples. “You seem to have forgotten how to address us, baby.”

The smile that spreads on your lips is devious. “Whether or not I address you correctly won’t change the answer, now will it?”

You’ve rendered the princess speechless. Before she can open her mouth again, you throw a pair of boxers in her direction, the ones she used when she fucked you into oblivion. 

“What you want me to do with these?”

“Wear em on your head,” your sarcastic tone cracked a smile on the young royal’s face. She reached up to catch the object you threw her way. It was one of your toys from home, a smaller cock compared to others you used, but still impressive. 

“Safeword, ma?”

Riri sat on the bed, legs spread wide. Anxiety pooled through her veins at what was coming for her and she couldn’t wait. “Um, shit. Red?”

“You always choose red.”

Her shoulders rise and fall, “Then it should be easy to remember.”

You were too busy trying to secure a thicker piece to your body, the vibranium running through it connecting you to the fake cock like it was real. A soft moan lingered on your lips at the feeling radiating down your legs and through your center. 

“You think you in charge now baby?” Shuri’s tone was teasing but her words were true. You’d taken a new lead in the new country and she kind of liked it. 

“Nah, I like being taken care of too much,” your wink actually causes the princess to blush. “Can you go sit behind Ri? Put her on your lap?”

“Yes ma’am,” Shuri gave you a swift salute and made her way back across the room. She lifted Ri with no effort, placing her still-naked, still-wet body on her lap, back to front. 

You made your way behind her, the bed dipping with your added weight. Riri was mesmerized by the sight of you, on all fours, making your way to her like a predator to its prey. 

Her lips are parted so prettily, waiting for you. Her breathing hitches as your mouth approaches hers. When they connect, it’s with a moan and you can still taste yourself, still taste her on her own tongue. 

The kiss is brief and wet. Your lips wrap around her tongue, sucking on your own flavor and when you pull away, you pull her bottom lip with you, teeth sunken into their softness. 

“Remember the safe word?”

“I-yeah? I just said it like two minutes ago.”

You move past her, lips brushing her ear ever so slightly. “Just making sure.”

Shuri’s your target and you get close, your voice getting low so that only she can hear you. 

“Has she ever taken you in her ass, daddy?”

She sputters, her nickname rolling off your tongue and straight to her core. “U-uh, y-yeah, baby. Why?”

“Because that’s where I want you.”

This fucking confidence, it looks so good on you. Shuri can only nod, mind foggy. She lifts Riri by the back of her thighs, planting slow, tender kisses on her neck. “You ready, Ri?”

Shuri’s cock is lined up, ready to enter and Riri’s caught on. “Baby wh-“

You’re running your hand down her front, over her golden chain, through the valley between her breasts, down the tattoo that sits at the top of her stomach, past her belly button, all the way down to her clit. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

Riri fucking loved this, whatever this side of you was. “I-I want to.”

“Good,” your arms fall around her shoulders and you nod at Shuri to continue. “And we gon take real good care of you, I promise.” You seal your vow with a kiss, just as Shuri’s tip slides in, trapped in Riri’s tightness. 

“Shit,” Ri hisses between clenched teeth. Shuri’s breath is gone, Riri’s squeezing around her just too well. 

“R-Ri, I-“

“Go ahead,” Riri’s pussy glistens at you, awaiting Shuri’s next movements. “B-bottom out. I’m good, f-feels good.”

Riri’s ass swallowing Shuri’s cock was a fucking delicious sight. Excitement grew in your stomach, your clit beneath the strap jumping at the sight. Her legs were spread wide as Shuri’s dick disappeared completely into her. 

“F-fuck Shuri-“

“Yeah, baby. It’s been a minute,  you so fucking tight. C-can I move?”

“Not yet,” you butt in, crawling into the space between Riri’s thighs. Your own cock lined up at her entrance, tip tracing her slit. “Ri?” 

“O-oh,” a dry chuckle escapes her. “Y-you’re gonna destroy me, baby.”

Your lips land against hers once more as you will your hips forward, just a bit. “Is that okay?”

Her nod is frantic, “F-fuck yes.” 

You’d intended to give her all of you at once, but with Shuri in her as well, you’re met with resistance. Riri has to feel every inch of you penetrate her walls slowly, digging deep. She throws her head back against Shuri’s shoulder, mouth wide open, eyes lazy. 

“Oh my god, baby, fuck!”

You stop before you’re fully in, halted by her curses. “Am I hurting you?”

Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop. Riri’s already gotten a taste of what you were about to give her, she wants it all. Her fingers grab your hips, pulling you closer until you’re hilt deep. “N-no, baby. F-feels good, please, fuck me, fuck me.”

Shuri’s index finger taps your chin, pulling your eyes from Ri and onto her. “You ain’t boss man yet, baby. Follow my rhythm.”

You agree, and pull out at the same time Shuri does. Riri whines, feeling too empty. She needs to be filled again and it doesn’t take long to fulfill her wishes. 

Shuri thrusts so you do too. “Fuck!” It’s more growl than moan, but it sounds lovely coming from Ri’s mouth nonetheless. 

You’re mimicking Shuri’s movements and Ri is a wet mess between you two. You can feel her, all of her. Her juices are trailing down your cock, her walls squeezing you, and god, they were so soft. 

It was like you just melted into her, your moans meshing with hers as though you were the one being fucked. 

“Babyyy, you’re doing s-so good, f-fucking me so good,” her words were fuel to your flame. Your fingers tightened around her waist. The pressure of her gripping you, the pressure of Shuri’s cock pressing against yours through the girl between you, my god, it was fucking delicious. 

And she was fucking delirious, unable to control the sensation as it ran hot through her body or the incoherent words that ran from her mouth. 

“S-so close, so close-“

When Shuri picked up speed, so did you. From the look on her face, full of focus and lust, she was also close. 

“D-don’t cum yet, ma. N-not ready to stop.”

You wanted her to hold it? Fuck, fuck that was gonna be hard. Her orgasm was right there, you were grinding into it with your tip, her pussy splashing around your cock, dripping down to Shuri’s. 

“O-oh baby, I-I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

Your lower stomach was covered in Riri, the wetness slicking your clit. She couldn’t though. She was already coming, your name on her lips, loud. 

“Y/n, baby, oooh, my b-baby, I-I’m f-fucking coming.”

Shuri breaks your rhythm, bouncing Riri on her cock at inhumane speeds, panther-like speeds. You slip out at the swift movements and Ri is free to release, coming, fucking squirting on your torso, soaking you in her stickiness. 

“Just y/n, Ri? You only coming for her?”

“N-no, Shuri, fuck, t-too deep-“

She lifts the girl slightly, but doesn’t stop. “Oh now you know my name? Didn’t know it when you were coming, so guess I gotta make you cum again, huh?”

Riri’s trying so hard to squeeze her legs shut, her body too sensitive from the orgasm that just wrecked her. “N-no, sorry, S-Shuri, fuck-“

The panther’s got her canines bared, eyes dark, voice low. “Nah, that’s n-not my fucking name no more, baby-“

Shit, what a fucking sight. Ri’s breasts bounce hard, her little body being thrown into the air, landing back on the entirety of Shuri’s cock. 

“I-I’m n-not-“

Shuri showed no mercy, her hand reaching around Riri’s front to swipe at her clit. The overly sensitive bud was already worn out. 

You watched, hypnotized, wondering when Riri would crack. Shuri’s eyes met yours and god, her smirk was so sexy. “Like what you see, baby?”

Your nod was slight, lip pulled between your teeth. “Good, cuz you next.”

She turned back to her task at hand, teeth sinking into Riri’s neck, licking away the pain she knew it caused. 

“C’mon, baby. Give it to me.”

“F-fuck, Shuri, please-“

Shuri was relentless-her torture wasn’t letting up. “My name, Ri. Say my name baby.”

She had to. Riri knew she had to as her second orgasm tethered near. It was going to rip her apart, Shuri was going to rip her apart. Eyes squeezed shut, cunt leaking once more, she caved. Riri gave in, just as her pussy poured into Shuri’s sheets, her name roaring through the air.

 

“D-daddy, fuck!”

Shuri was fucking pleased and her cock twitched deep in Riri, spilling her seed into her ass and back all over her dick. “Was that so hard? Huh, baby?”

Riri was silent, body shaking, nut collecting beneath the three of you. She convulsed like she was possessed, mouth wide open, a beautiful contortion on her face. 

Her body went limp afterward, falling into the wet comforter beneath her. “Shit-“

Shuri leaned over, a wet kiss falling from her lips and planting on Riri’s. “You called me da-“

“Nigga, no, okay? We don’t speak of it.”

You make your way between their two bodies, having enjoyed the tender moment, even if it was brief. “You did call her daddy, though.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, and then some. Riri’s eyes were slits, staring daggers into your head. 

Shuri’s lips moved to yours next, “I didn’t know you had all that in you, baby.”

Your blush brought butterflies to the princess’ stomach. “Did I do good? Did you like it?”

Her arms wrap around your body, pulling you on top of hers while Riri scoots closer, kissing down your arm. “You did phenomenally. I fucking loved it, fucking love you.”

“I love y-“

A hard knock cuts your words short. Okoye’s voice rings through the heavy door, “Hey! Yeah, your soundproofing didn’t work, Princess!”

[argisthebulwark]

TES Summer Fest Day Seven: Companion/Fallen

summary: Tired of being held to unattainable expectations, the Dragonborn turns their back on everyone to be with Miraak. gn reader/Miraak, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. warnings: none! a/n: bit of a continuation from day one :) @tes-summer-fest TES Summerfest Masterlist

"Humanity's greatest warrior has abandoned us!" A sharp voice tinged with fear rings through the marketplace, much to the dismay of its shoppers and merchants. "Mankind will fall to the threat of dragons once more if we do not turn our eyes to the true power of Tamriel - the gods!"

"Mankind should turn their eyes to us, not those useless old men on their mountain." Miraak snorts in your ear, earning a sharp elbow in the ribs. He huffs out a laugh at the rushed way you tug the cowl tighter around your face.

"Don't draw attention." You hiss, shoving likely too many coins into the woman's outstretched hand. Too many alarms are sounding in your mind - there isn't time to worry about counting change. Your singular focus remains on escaping the large city without encountering any trouble.

"The Last Dragonborn has turned against humanity - fallen from grace!" The man's shrieks grate against your last nerve.

Miraak's cavalier attitude does little to help. Adventurous fingers clamber under your cloak and hook into your trousers, dragging you closer until his lips find your ear.

"What worries you, my dragon?" He murmurs, the silky voice doing little to calm your nerves. "I will level this city if anyone upsets you - we could do it together. You shouldn't concern yourself with mankind's useless opinions."

"We've discussed this." You grumble and grasp his wrist, intent on dragging him out of the city's claustrophobic walls. Miraak hurries after you, apparently content to let you boss him around.

"I know, I know - humanity is worth saving, you've said that." He recounts with an especially dramatic sigh. "I'm not allowed to destroy cities or you'll leave me."

"Correct." Even as you voice it, you doubt your conviction; you've already turned your back on the Greybeards, the Blades, and every Jarl across the continent to be with him - is there anything he could do to sever your connection?

"What exactly is your plan, my love? I have no doubt in you, of course - but you must know that I will not be welcomed into Sovngarde."

"If those spirits want Alduin to fall they will make an exception." You grumble, praying that your words will convince the countless heroes waiting in the afterlife - brute force isn't a viable option against the legions that surely await you there.

They must. There is no other option. Regardless of the waves of useless propaganda spreading across Skyrim you refuse to let Alduin lay waste to your home. While the Jarls bicker among themselves and the Greybeards waste time fretting over your lack of mindless obedience you intend to solve the problem, even if they disagree with your methods.

"You will be there with me." You assure Miraak, breath coming a bit easier with each step you take away from the crowded city. His hand slips into yours, calloused fingers a comfort when they squeeze yours.

"That is not what the prophecies have foretold, Mal Dov." He reminds you, voice shakier than expected. When you whip toward him you find those harsh eyes staring straight back at you. "Perhaps I do not deserve the redemption you offer me."

Afternoon slips into an uneasy night, your brain clouded with worry about what the next morning will hold. Your stomach churns as shaky fingers comb over the perfectly arranged weapons and stash of potions - will it be enough? Would an entire calvary be enough to take down the World Eater?

"It is not redemption." You finally utter the words that have rattled around your mind all day. Miraak pauses at your side without speaking but you feel the unmistakable weight of his eyes on you. "I do not intend to bring you to Sovngarde and back to redeem your soul."

"Oh, is it a punishment you seek?" He chuckles but you catch the uneasiness in his voice.

"It is selfish." You whirl to him, suddenly so desperate for him to see how utterly awful you are. Tears claw at your throat when Miraak pauses his actions.

"My love, what do you mean?"

"I cannot do this without you." You swallow back the fucking lump in your throat but tears still sting. "I - I'm not who they wanted me to be, none of them. I'm evil, fallen from grace as that fucking preacher said."

"You are not evil." Leather gloves are cool when Miraak cups your cheeks. "I am evil, yet you chose to let me live - you've let me into your heart, given me a reason to keep breathing." His honeyed words soothe the erratic beating of your heart, face warming when his nose brushes yours. "If you have fallen from grace, I cannot imagine the things they would say of me."