#ive well and truly lost my mind

[loneleeghost]

“true that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me”

[rosykims]

im a eurydice = solas truther btw and ill die for my beliefs

be so serious........ and lavellan as orpheus......

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 5: Degradation

Pairing: IVE Ahn Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,681

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

--------------------------------------

--------------------------------------

“That looks awful, Yujin.”

“Come on, daddy, you’ll like this!”

Well, the blending of her outfit composes an unorthodox harmony which makes you detest it but the beauty behind what lies within is the most important aspect—Yujin herself can pull off any style, even if it means for you to not like it. Yujin, a glamorous girl, never fails to look close to a goddess at any time possible, even when she’s totally sullied, she’s still the most gorgeous girl you’ve laid your eyes upon.

Even such harsh criticisms about her are meaningless, faulty and full of bullshit—she’s close to perfection yet you can’t really comprehend the beauty of her outfit right now and it’s really bothering you.

“It’s really weird, Yujin—no matter how much I gaslight myself to think your outfit’s good, it’s really not there—” 

“Maybe, but it’s your own opinion! My stylist really approved of this style!”

Sometimes, Yujin’s optimism is off the charts and it’s getting kind of on the verge of craziness, in a good way. Such uplifting energy being emanated by her is contagious and you love it, no wonder why the rest of members feel cheerful whenever she’s there as it’s evident. Not to mention, the days where you almost lost everything, Yujin was there to fuel your happiness and to cheer you up and you’re just grateful to see such a kind soul in Yujin’s heart. 

Well, well, back to where we were…

“Whatever, you still look beautiful, anyways…” You pull her wrists towards you, initiating into a torrid kiss in which she was caught off-guard, yelping and humming as the kiss was making her heart melt.

“Yah—daddy, someone may see us, let’s go in. Don’t want my daddy to get caught by those paparazzis…”

“You’re so sweet, Yujin—I don’t want that to happen to you either.”

With the fear of getting caught by those possible eavesdropping people, you let her into your humble home as the best of all things were just going to start.

---

“You wanted this all along, huh, Yujin?”

“I’ve planned this all out, daddy, isn’t it obvious?”

Bet it is like that. It wasn’t even a sweat finding it to be too conspicuous as visiting you means three things for Yujin: one, is that she misses you a lot that she couldn’t contain it anymore and wants your affection; two, she wants to talk about something that means a lot to her or, that piqued her interest truly and; three, she’s here for a quick fuck for her daddy.

All options were optimal and understandable and probably, all of the reasons were checked out on why she is here, at your place, with the most ruinable outfit imaginable.

“Yeah, no shit, Yujin—” You pin her down the wall, as you mutter a hot breath that sends down tingles up her spine as an admiration of her faultless beauty and then a faint snarl as you glare at her and continued, “—I bet your slutty pussy won’t even make a day without my cock plunged into it, isn’t it?”

That alone arouses her into oblivion, whining in response as you mark her neck softly, nibbling onto the porcelain skin with aims to let Yujin know where she belongs only, and that’s you. Struggling because of her sudden sensitivity with your touch, she lets out a series of moans in which you love but at the same time, your patience is running out quickly as you will soon be enraged with it.

“Answer me, Yujin—”

“Y-yes, daddy—I’m just s-so horny right now that even with o-our photoshoot earlier, I can’t think of anything besides only you, daddy…”

That thought prints a smile on your face as you were flustered about Yujin clouding her mind with you only, yet, it doesn’t stop there as this was just some obvious foreplay as the test was about to begin pretty soon.

“You’re cute when you’re needy, Yujnnie, but I want to ask you something.”

Yujin’s eyes lit up in anticipation and excitement as your words set the switch of her submissive and needy demeanor—by all means, she’s willing to take and answer whatever question you will utter, no matter what the consequences may be.

“What is it, daddy?”

You sit on the bed, facing up the ceiling and then letting out a sigh as worry paints her face, scared of what may trigger your possible disappointment even though they weren't any cause. “I’m not easily convinced if you really deserve to get fucked silly—you need to earn it first and will you do that for me, Yujin?”

Your stern look forces an immediate answer escaping her lips, willing to do anything that will make your life full of heaven and delight. It is true, you need to test her capabilities first and earn her desired grand prize—hard work pays off in the end, and you’ll let her know that. Spreading your legs for some clarity or rather, a hint of what she’s about to be tackling, she immediately knows what you want her to do as her clever mind never fails to make you smile. Falling down to her knees, lined up in level with your crotch, she makes the most endearing look towards you, her puppy-eyes flattering as she feels excited about what she’s about to do to you.

“Undress me, make it quick.”

“Yes, daddy.”

She is told what she’s told and immediately, she fulfills your command, quickly undressing each piece of your clothing as she starts unbuckling your belt, her fingers shaking a little bit for unknown reasons. You don’t know if it’s because of the nervousness injected right from the start, her lack of experience in which you doubt or something else that you don’t know—you didn’t care about it as she continues what she’s doing with no more interrogation. With her current sluggish pace of stripping your bottom half, you called her out and scolded her a little so that she can up the ante and to not disappoint you. She took this as a hit of a stride, further doing what she’s been told to as the cold air meets your skin, feeling your last bits of defense falling down to the floor, deeming useless. Well, it seemed like she succeeded on her first task as with the last bit of your iron wall protecting the beast within getting removed, you let out a sigh as Yujin was met with your already-erecting member, her eyes in awe and pupils dilating as she admires the beauty of it, inch by inch.

“Daddy’s getting hard, oh god—it’s so perfect.”

“Then do something about it—” You lift Yujin’s chin with your fingers, then glaring at her, voicing an intimate need that should be fulfilled by her and it’s a must. “—don’t you dare disappoint me, Yujin.”

Of course she won’t try to because the consequences are unbearable at her end. With your already erected end, she didn’t faze herself to ask what to do and immediately obliged to pleasure you. She looks in awe with your throbbing cock as she places her finger at the base of it, massaging it slowly and stroking it with fervor. It was sluggish and pleasurable but you didn’t want that, so glared at her as she was confused right after, scared that she may have provoked something that you didn’t want—it’s about time for her to know about that. 

It’s not too long for her to know what you want as she slowly parts her mouth in contact with your mushroom-shaped tip, swirling her tongue around the slit and then parting kisses in admiration of it. She continued with this as you suppress your moans, trying to silence yourself despite the intense pleasure she’s been putting you into. She didn’t up the pace and continued to suck you off with only half of your length in her tight mouth, growing the pleasure as she alternates it between strokes and suctions. You grew impatient with her sluggish endeavors as you slowly formed a tight grip on her head, forcing her down to take your whole length as her nose became buried down your abdomen. It caught her off-guard as constantly gagged on your whole length, tears seeping out of her eyes and then running out her cheek and when you’re satisfied, to let go of your grip as she ejects herself out immediately, gasping for air as her ruined visage is such a sight to treasure.

“W-what the—hah—f-fuck was that, daddy?”

“You’re complaining, Yujin?” You’re in disbelief as she tried to question you and immediately, she knew that wasn’t the right move. She liked your harshness but the shock is inevitable and you didn’t care about that.

“N-no, daddy…”

“Good—you fucking know I like it sloppy, what are you waiting for?” Your commanding tone forces Yujin to do what is asked as she parts her soft, luscious lips onto your tip again and immediately starts to suck you off with renewed fervor and determination, aiming to impress you truly with just her mouth. Inevitably, saliva seeps out of her mouth as your whole length is sheathed with it, with some dripping onto your balls. The pace was ridiculous as her gags were also constant too, bawling her mouth in every thrust she does of her mouth as more tears run down her cheek because of her own masterpiece. It may be a masterpiece for the others, but not for you as she lacks a lot of principles of a great, sloppy blowjob.

“Have you really forgotten what I taught you, Yujin?” Your words didn’t break what she’s best at, unfazed with your remarks as she continues to blow you as fast and as sloppy as she can. “I’m really not having this one, Yujin—again, you don’t want me to be disappointed.” She ups her pace, regardless on how much she gawks and gags as she does the best that she can, blowing you like no one truly could as her face gets sullied, her hair disheveled and her saliva creating an awful mess on her beautiful face and onto the vicinity of your raging length.

“Do I need to repeat myself? You're a pathetic slut—do I need to teach you something again? I might get to call Wonyoung to teach you about the basics, no?”

Having enough of your degrading antics, she pulls herself out of your length, catching a breath and asking a point to you. “Daddy, what do I e-even need to—gluck—mmfh!”

“Even forgot to fondle my balls and stare at my eyes—you’re better than this, Yujin, come on now…”

With such elements being unattended, worry expresses her face as she seemed to forget such simple things on a spectacular blowjob as with no time to waste, her dainty hands averted your attention towards you sensitive balls, rather than gripping your thighs harshly as a leverage to the pace she ensued with. It alternates and it’s better—those orbs shining with lust everytime she thrusts her mouth onto your cock is such the cherry on top as eventually, she maintains eye contact with you despite the current struggles she’s experiencing. It was better than what she'd done earlier and you’re satisfied with it but you mask your satisfaction with a stern look, prompting Yujin to up the challenge more. With an incredible task she’s been doing, you can’t help but let out faint moans and expectedly, the familiar knot in your loins, signaling your near release. Yujin noticed this, as the persistent throbs of your cock onto her mouth makes it evident and took this as an opportunity to milk such a healthy load from you. You knew this, she wants from you as you stop her advances, not wanting to paint her throat with her load as you have more plans with her and the both of you were just starting.

“You fucking greedy slut—trying to milk a damn load, huh?” You let her go as she immediately pulls out of your succulent meat, gasping for air as she frowned in disbelief, wanting your load to be tasted by hers as she didn’t approve of your commands but there’s nothing she can do with it as you have the higher authority, the omnipotent one.

“I c-can’t help it—I want i-it so b-bad, daddy—”

“You won’t have it because girls like you don’t really deserve it up in their throat…” You rose up from your relaxed position, approaching her as you stared at her eyes with such suspenseful intent. “They deserved it inside this tight, little cunt, do you understand?”

Yujin nods frantically with her eyes uneasy, fear emanating down every emotional chemical running up her body as she doesn’t know what to feel after her oral service. Nonetheless, she did a nice job but you want to let her know something that may snap her back to reality.

“B-but did I do good, daddy?”

You sigh, facing her, then looking back at her muttering, “I’m such a hypocrite if I lie yet there will be room for improvements, Yujin.” You sat back down to the bed, shooting up a stern look on your face as you commanded her to strip. It wouldn’t fall deaf onto her ears as she slowly get to work, undressing that stupid jacket off as the long-sleeve followed right after, the hypnotic sense of the show making the atmosphere even hotter as every clothing that gets off is a wondrous sight, and it’s much better because of that dreadful outfit becoming useless and stripped away. She seduces you like a vixen, her eyes constantly attracting you and her smirks letting you know how much she’s enjoying this. You’re just on that emotionless and serious demeanor, unfazed with her unparalleled hotness as with the last bits of clothing getting removed, you can’t help but be aroused with the sight of a god-like body. You weren’t  immobilized either, as you stripped off the rest of your clothing while eyeing and admiring her scrumptious figure.

“You liked this, daddy?”

“Of course—who can possibly detest and reject such a five-course meal in front of them, hm?”

She doesn’t need any questions about that, because every inch of her is perfection at its finest and meal to be savored and devoured whenever possible. You’ll never get tired of the taste of her sweet nectar and the delicious skin as every inch of her should be praised yet this is not where you should bless her with praises—you’re here to test her and conclude on your judgment.

“Thank god you got rid of that awful outfit. It’s mildly concerning how bad it is.”

“Yah, daddy—it wasn’t even that bad!”

“Shut your mouth, Yujin! You don’t get to talk back until I say so, do you understand?” 

Surprisingly, she obeyed your command, nodding slowly as she didn't talk back further, her eyebrows furrowed right after, full of fear and anticipation.

“Now turn around and bend over the bed, hand behind your back and with your foot still stepping on the floor, alright?”

Another nod ensues as she immediately bent her figure over the bed, her ass high up in the air. You take some moment to admire her backside, her thick thighs and it’s plump, spankable butt that’s all offered just for you. The black thong she’s currently wearing was such an arousing sight that it got your cock twitching constantly. You then gave her ass a harsh spank that reverberated around the room, the jiggle after the slap becoming the cherry on top as it hypnotized you but nonetheless, you didn’t give in and fought the urge. Yujin always moans heavenly and blesses your ears in each spank you do as it fuels you to tease her even more and you absolutely love it.

“You’re kinky, huh? Imagine doing a photoshoot having a buttplug up in your ass—you’re really a desperate slut, Yujin.”

“I can’t help it, da—”

You spank her hard again, in distraught as she breaks the golden rule and immediately, she let out a cry from the harshness of your actions.

“What did I fucking say? You don’t get to talk until I say so, right?” You retorted towards Yujin, gritting your teeth with a hint of anger being felt as you were getting disappointed with her disobedient remarks.

“Y-yes, daddy—I’m sorry—”

“No need to be sorry, Yujin—” You spank her as she let out another cry, feeling the intense sensitivity coursing down her veins as you hitch a breath onto her ear and whispered, “—you get to talk with this pussy. Take me well and you’ll be rewarded, do you understand?”

She frantically nods again as her thighs quiver in sensitivity, feeling the utmost pleasure as she’s now in a very defenseless state, prone with your attacks as she can’t do anything but enjoy with your masterclass. You smile with the fact that Yujin is powerless against what you could do to her, feeling the utmost delight inside but you still emanate an intimidating demeanor, scaring her still. With your still fully-erected member, you tease your tip onto her labia, making her moan constantly as sweat now forms down her back, feeling the hot air permeating all over her porcelain skin. 

“Imagine moaning this much with even just the tip teasing you—you’re such a desperate one—a pathetic slut, Yujin, that’s what you are…”

“I a-am a pathetic slut, daddy—ahh, fuck!”

Another harsh spank was drawn with your hands as the reddish sting is imprinted onto her butt, letting her know that the way she contravened you again was not the play. You chuckled upon the helpless predicament she’s in, feeling the utmost authority as you draw your finger up to her dripping core up to her puckered hole, teasing her repeatedly as she moans in pleasure driven by your dexterity.

“One more and you’ll see, Yujin—you’re such a worthless fucktoy for me to use, don’t you? You even struggled to take me in your mouth, what more into this tight, little cunt?” She lets out ragged breaths once you insert a finger up in her pussy, deeming it as her kryptonite as she almost fell down to her knees due to the intense pleasure and sensitivity she’s experiencing. 

“See? Even with just my fingers, you look like a helpless, little slut that lives only for my cock—I bet you won’t even last long with my cock buried balls-deep inside your pussy—hah…”

You continue pleasuring her with your fingers as she didn’t even care to suppress her moans, giving it absolutely everything to arouse you further. You then continue the pace of your fingers as you tip teases her puckered hole, letting out a series of cries from her on par with her angelic moans and the whispered into her ear, “Do you want daddy to fuck you real silly, hm?”

Yujin took seconds to respond, as the intense serotonin she’s experiencing was too much to handle as she nodded instantly and pleaded, “P-please, daddy—I need y-your cock—gahh—i-in my slutty pussy. Fill me u-up and show y-your slut who she be—ahh—longs too…”

You plant another grin as she’s right, you’ll absolutely oblige to that even though she knows where she only belongs to. With a couple more flicks of your fingers inside her pussy, you became contented on what you’re about to do to her as you let her have her desired prize—not really a prize, but rather proving something to her as she let out a muffled scream (it was subtly silenced thanks to your hands) from the warmness of your cock plunging right into her tight heat. Whenever she moans, it really gets you to up the pace immediately as it’s like a curse to lure into your deepest, carnal desires but you fight it, wanting to savor the tightness of her walls and to prove a point to her.

“Look at you, Yujin—look at how pathetic you look right now. My cock is barely even in and you’re this sensitive and weak? I knew better, Yujin—now take it whole, you slut.”

You immediately bury your entire length inside her tight walls as you feel it clench, the both of you then exchanging moans with Yujin letting out the most broken and sensual ones. You could feel her wetness enveloping your member, almost suffocating it as she’s incredibly tight—she was always tight and you love it truly and you’re so thankfully that only you will get to feel her, nobody else. With a newly profound arousal, you noticed how much Yujin is getting turned on with your degradations towards her as you noted it, wanting to show more of what you bring to the table. You then start to thrust with such a moderate pace as you harshly grip the side of her hips, hard enough to leave print but not bruises—maybe it can because of how you're holding it for dear life.

Of course, such spanking didn’t get forgotten here as every thrust or two you do, a harsh spank comes right after, resulting in a silent cry escaping her lips, voicing out her pleasure. With all of the perfection your eyes lay upon, such faulty inevitabilities are on the path, and you’re ready to voice it out.

“God, if you didn’t cut you hair short, I could have gone and pulled your hair while fucking you from behind.”

Yujin answers back, her voice still trembling from your pace and the pleasure running through her, “I w-wanted this, daddy—I thought y-you—gahh—would li-like me experimenting o-on things?”

“Yeah, I know but it’s alright, at least I get to spank you real good.”

You spank her again while maintaining a newly profound ruthless pace, now her bubble butt becoming imprinted with red marks because of your harshness and you smile just with the sight of it. With now your cock constantly ramming her pussy like it’s your last, her moans orchestrate music in your ears as screams come right after. You noticed how much your raging length makes her enervated as you can her legs partly giving out from the repeated onslaught of harsh thrusts in aims for your pleasure and not her—but still, she’s taking advantage of this as even thought you didn’t mind giving her the utmost pleasure, it’s inevitable considering how she’s having a good time and the constant clenching of her wet walls around your cock. It wasn’t anything new and still, it’s arousing as fuck—Yujin saccharine yet deep voice when moaning is such a blessing and disguise, and it’s hypocritical if you say that it doesn’t put gasoline onto the flames of peak arousal (of course you won’t because it’s always an eargasm hearing her soft, deep moans of need).

Such cruelty is ensued with your hips, and Yujin replies with such profanities escaping her mouth, voicing her satisfaction and the pleasure that she’s cherishing—and not so long after, she’s about to be gifted with such a blessing only her daddy can give, no one else can. Within your rapid thrusts and the harsh grips and spanks you’re giving her, you noticed something that was bound to happen, smirking in delight at the fact that it signals the fact that she’s loving your rough treatment despite the possible struggle she’s up into.

“What’s this, Yujin—already cumming onto my cock? Do you even deserve to do that when you could barely take me like a good girl?”

It is true—your whole length stretches her out so well that she couldn’t comprehend to think about taking you in like a champ but rather, fully give in and voice her satisfaction like she’s losing her sanity.

“I’m s-sorry—gahh—daddy—ofh fuck, y-you’re just too b-big—gah!”

She’s not sorry for that but rather didn’t mind it as you continue fucking her senseless. Yujin inevitably spreads her slowly in order for you to fuck her deeper and greater as it’s rewarding, fiding such intense pleasure and new depths that makes her cry in such intense pleasure, unable to take everything as it’s too much on what she wanted but loved this right away. Within your intense pace, you can’t just become a robotic entity programmed to just fuck her until she gives out, so you grabbed onto her small, perky mounds and kissed her nape while doing it, further letting her know the affection you’re giving to her as she moans in response, feeling too grateful to your enamored actions. You pinch the taut bud and massage those pillowy mounds as the heavenly tightness of her pussy sends you into overdrive—becoming too overstimulated as the pleasure you’re experiencing is now off the roof as it’s the same with her, the juices of her cunt forming a rivulet dripping down to your balls and onto the floor is a sign that the both of you are just too lost on the pleasure. Kissing her neck repeatedly and sucking onto the porcelain skin, you know you weren’t far off to reach your peak as you continue fuck her mercilessly, chasing your orgasm.

Such profanities and lust are now the paramount feeling coursing to your veins, so you voice your near-ending and your approaching euphoric disposition as you whisper on her ear, “I’m going to fucking cum inside you, Yujin and you better take it like a good girl, you pathetic slut!”

Now giving her pussy the last thrusts in concern for you pleasure, you flood her ears with moans as she took advantage of your pace and came again onto your cock, streams and streams of her nectar streaming down her thighs, your balls, onto the bed sheets and some onto the floor, staining it. You didn’t mind the sneaky orgasm she was in as you licked down the sweat that profusely formed onto her back, tasting the salty skin and for further arousal to chase your long-awaited orgasm.

Within your last rams, you groan as the pleasure coursed down you’re veins and the inevitable snaps, burying your whole length and filling Yujin up to the hilt as you shoot thick shots of semen deep inside her, painting her walls white as she lets out series of lustful moans because of the euphoric state that she’s in. You continue thrusting into her, further fucking your seed inside her and riding out your orgasm and once it subsided, you slowly pulled out to her, admiring the mess you’ve make inside her with some of it dripping out of her heated core, running down her thighs. You caressed her butt as you admired the sullied sight of Yujin, full of delight and satisfaction as you finally gave her what she wanted but to come up and conclude your judgment, you wanted to make one more thing as a final remark.

“Get up, go on your knees and clean up my cock, Yujin.”

Even with her wobbly legs almost giving out, she didn’t hesitate to oblige, further servicing you with another oral assault as a conclusion on this steamy session. She plants her soft, luscious lips onto your lips and sucked the remnants of your seed and her nectar, cleaning up the mess the both of you made. She hummed in satisfaction as she finally tasted hints of your semen after being deprived for a month without it. After series of licks and swirls of her tongue onto your throbbing length, you let series of weak moans due to your sensitivity as she’s now done with her concluding masterpiece—your cock crystal-clear clean as you help her to get up, and then muttering up a proposition that she won’t deny.

“Want to clean up, Yujin?”

“B-but I want you up in my a-ass, daddy—want to g-get all my holes filled…”

You glared at Yujin, and then let out a chuckle from her needs, “Come on, you can’t even take me that good up your tight cunt, moreso on your ass? Don’t worry though—” You planted a kiss on her lips as you reassure her, “We’re just getting started, there’s more to do later so you better be prepared…”

And god, this will be one hell of another night, again…

[speed-world]

Hello! I wanted a request you of a Baker!Reader

Honestly ive had this little moment thing in my mind for some time and I wanted to seehow Baker!Reader just completely annihilated Dark Enchantress Cookie with a frying pan, honestly of how big Baker!Reader is and how Baker's (as well as Witches) are.. Well Baker's of the Cookies and as such Witches are considered God's.. So Baker is considered one too, and just how Baker!Reader is just scolding Dark Enchantress Cookie for this whole.. " Cookies are made to be eaten " nonsense. While also some Members of the Cookies of Darkness just watch in either fear or shock...or worse I say worse..both! I would Imagine this Baker!Reader being more strict and intermediating if they are handling evil, but has a big softe side when not or just hanging out with their Cookie friends, especially the Ancients. Also may wondering why a frying pan? Because it's a funni weapon of mass destruction :3

I CAST FRYING PAN!!

That was the booming call before a giant pan smit down Dark Enchantress Cookie. Time virtually stopped when it happened, as even Cookies who didn’t witness it heard the sound of your angry voice, and stood in silence for a few moments that seemed like ages….

The Cookies of Darkness were all at such a loss seeing the giant pan whack their leader down with such ease and authority. They had no clue what was the proper way to even react to everything, other than being in a state of shock and fear. Licorice and Poison Mushroom Cookie vowed to never get on the baker’s bad side if this is what they’re in for. Red Velvet Cookie had such a hard time processing everything and just wanted to forget what he saw. The poor Cookie had to rethink everything about himself to avoid your wrath. Pomegranate Cookie…was lost, seeing her great master defeated in such a manner. If this is the fate of her master, then what’s to become of her? Pomegranate would devote her life to yours, anything, just please don’t let her fall to such a cruel fate…

Even the Cookies that were your friends were still scared. They knew you were kindhearted and loving, but your kindness was almost forgotten when they saw your judgement cast down on Dark Enchantress Cookie. They’re grateful that they’re in your good graces and that you’re a benevolent baker, but they can’t exactly shake the image of your anger out of their minds…

The Ancient Heroes were concerned for you. They respected your position as a Baker and couldn’t have prevented you from smiting Dark Enchantress, but it’s about how you went about it that made them question you. You found humor in it, as for you a frying pan as a weapon of mass destruction seems hilarious…but to these Cookies, there was nothing to laugh at. Fortunately, you only hurt your target, but far more than just Dark Enchantress were at risk from being seriously harmed. The Ancients love your kindness for the Cookies and understand your strictness for evil, but they still want you to remember how different your world is to theirs. They love you, truly, but please be more mindful, even to those that are evil.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Bandage To A Broken Heart (Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem Medic!!Reader

Summary: You're a medic assigned to the 141 task force, Ghost is particularly fond of you and after an injury, he comes straight to your door. This is in Ghosts point of view (still second person, just from his perspective)

Warnings: explicit content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, praise kink, size kink (mans 6'4 whaddya expect), choking, dirty talk, language, mentions of injuries, mentions of reader being much shorter than ghost and has tattoos, no other physically descriptions

WC: 7k I'm so sorry

A/N: FINALLY, ive been writing this fic for like 3 weeks now and I finally got to finish this and omggg, Im down so fucking bad for this man, so naturally I wrote filth for him. I hope my ghost girlies enjoy this

You can also read this over at Ao3

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Ghost was no stranger to pain. Not in the slightest. Pain was second nature to him. He had spent his entire life experiencing and learning to manage his pain to the point where he no longer felt it. But he'd be lying if he said that your touch didn't take away his pain better than he ever could himself. 

Always so careful and gentle, and always willing to help anyone that walked into your infirmary and in the field. He couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could've ever ended up in the military, but then again after the things he had seen you do in the field, he'd be a fool to ever doubt your capabilities. 

He was no stranger to you either, afterall, the 141 had become your main patients after you were assigned to their task force as their physician a year ago. And for one reason or another, Ghost always ended up at your infirmary, whether it was for an actual injury or to ask about your day under the excuse of  needing some painkillers he probably didn't really need through grumbles and that particularly dry humor of his that always made your day. And truly, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his day too. 

Simon Riley was down bad for you, and he didn't know what to do about it. 

He had lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was from the crash or just the overall shit show that his latest mission had been, but everything was an absolute blur to him. All he knew is that there was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing only. He wanted to see you. No, he needed to see you. 

Price had insisted Ghost joined the others at the infirmary, but he knew it wouldn't be you stitching up his wounds. After a very disastrous previous mission, you were left with pretty severe injuries yourself, ones that left you at your own infirmary for a few days. And while you assured them you were ready to go back to your duties, which included accompanying the 141 to their latest assignment, Price and Ghost himself insisted you sat this one out, and took a couple more days to fully recover. After a good fifteen minutes of protesting, you were outvoted. There were medics on base after all. But they weren't you, so naturally Ghost refused to go to the infirmary. He didn't trust anyone else but you. He'd rather bleed out, he said. 

Price wasn't one to question anything Ghost did, he could take care of himself. And he knew you were the only one he trusted to take care of him.

Before he even realized it, Ghost was dragging himself to your quarters, unsure if you'd tell him to fuck off and to go to the infirmary instead, or if you'd honor the idea that he only trusted your hands to fix his wounds and take away his pain, for a little while at least. He was hoping it was the ladder. 

He knocked, once, twice and a third time, and with a pained groan he leaned his body against the door, trying to take some weight off his sore legs. He waited, his mind racing and thinking that maybe you weren't at the infirmary for a reason, that maybe he should leave you alone and let you take some well deserved rest. 

But he needed to see you, right now.

He lifted his head only a few inches to find you, for the first time not in your usual uniform, but instead a plain dark green tee that left the pattern of black and colored ink on your right arm on full display, and sleeping pants. But you didn't look like you had been asleep, you looked wide awake. Though that quickly turned into what Ghost thought was a mixture of worry and relief on your features. He knew because he had that same look when you woke up after he had carried your unconscious body to the medivac. 

"Will you ever learn to take care of yourself out there?" Were the first words out of your mouth as you scanned his slouched body, taking particular notice to the hand glued to his right shoulder.

He let out a dry chuckle and the way in which his entire body relaxed, his shoulders dropped and was no longer on high alert the second he saw you was more than obvious. Whether or not you did notice that or not was beyond his people reading skills. 

He didn't have to ask or say anything, you simply moved out of the way and walked back. He followed you in, his heavy but surprisingly quick steps following close behind you until you eventually came to a stop. He stopped, standing to his full height and his dark eyes were fixed on you as he waited for you to grab your medical supplies, which he knew you always kept around just in case. 

"I can't check for injuries with all that gear Simon." You motioned your free hand to his tactical vest strapped with just about every weapon he could carry and most likely a bullet covered plate underneath his jacket.

He stood silent for a long second, just taking in the way you said his name. You only ever called him Simon in private, where you both knew you were safe from everyone else, where your protective armors could come down for once. He liked it when you called him Simon, it reminded him that he was still, in fact, a human being, that he was still Simon Riley, not just the ghost of a dead man that hid behind the mask of a killing machine.

He gave you a nod and his hand went towards the clips that kept his harness and vest together. Slowly, minding the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he dropped his vest on the floor, his black jacket quickly following the same fate. This, though, earned a groan of discomfort when his shoulder moved, he closed his eyes momentarily as he pulled the sleeve from his injured shoulder before dropping his jacket to the ground as well. All that was left was his clinging black shirt leaving the black ink of his arm on full display, and of course, his balaclava and the skull plate stitched to the thick fabric. 

You were already gloved up by then, your tools already laid out on a desk behind Simon. So once he was free on his gear, you looked up at him, now seeing the trail of dry blood that ran down his right arm, starting at his shoulder. You stared at him for a few seconds as he stood there before you spoke. 

"I can't stitch your shoulder if you're all the way up there Simon, sit down." You rolled your eyes, forcing out an exasperated sigh and exaggerated motion for him to sit down by your desk.

"It's not my fault you're all the way on the ground down there. Would it kill ya to grow a few?" He said with his usual lack of emotion, but under his mask, his lips tugged up just a tiny bit at the glare you gave him as he sat down in front of you, because even with him sitting down, he was still half a head taller than you. 

"I'll remember that next time you come to my infirmary asking for pain killers after you get shot or stabbed again." You shot him a nasty glare, but you both knew you didn't mean that. "Speaking of getting shot, how did this happen?"

He hissed barely loud enough to be heard through his mask when he felt you lift the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it up to his shoulder to reveal a gash from a bullet just above his bicep. You glanced at him, eyes meeting his own for a second in a silent apology before you turned your attention back to his wound. 

"Bastard shot me at close range, bullet must've grazed through my jacket. Good thing he was a shit shot though." He answered, his eyes watching you as you cleaned the dried blood around the wound, more focused on you than any pain he could be feeling in that moment. 

"Y'know, had you let me go on that mission I probably would have cleaned this up hours ago." You muttered, swiping the wet cotton around his skin, giving him a minute or two to breathe before actually cleaning the wound. 

"Had you gone with us you would've probably ended in the infirmary for another week." He quickly shot back, his naturally gruffly and raspy voice turning just a bit more so at the idea of it and you could feel his shoulders tense under your fingers. "Better me than you, eh?" 

"That's not funny." Your eyes flickered in his direction and you narrowed them at him, only to find his brown eyes staring deep into you, not once looking away. Until you swiped a soaked cotton over his wound and he exhaled deeply and unevenly, his eyes closing momentarily as he felt his skin throb and burn. 

"I'm not laughing," He eventually responded in a quiet tone, eyes finally opening to meet yours once again. 

"Do you ever?" You asked with a tiny smile, earning the typical dead eyed glare Ghost gave everyone that annoyed him. 

"No."

You looked away from him, lips curved up into a smile as you covered his clean wound with a gauze, not really needing stitches. You weren't looking at him then, so you missed the way he looked at you, his head slightly tilted and his eyes hooded as he memorized every detail of your face. He always did this, just in case it was the last. 

"Anything else hurts?" You asked after a minute, taking your gloves off and throwing them on the desk and leaned on your left foot, head tilted as you looked at him again. 

"Mmm," He half pointed to the left side of his face, "I hit my face when the heli crashed. 'm afraid I did some irreparable damage to that side of my face." 

You stared at him, you blinked a few times and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his request. He knew you were trying to understand his request, he was giving you permission to see his face. For the first time and you weren't sure if he was being serious or not. 

"I can't, y'know, the mask," You pointed to the thick fabric covering his face, noticing the tear on the left side but you made no effort to actually look, let alone touch.  

You stood still, hands glued to your side, itching to remove his mask yourself, but you were afraid, afraid to cross an irreversible boundary. He could see it, he could see the way your hands shook and your teeth nervously dug into your bottom lip. And he wasn't much better, he could feel his heart pound in his chest and his breath pick up. But he wasn't scared. 

He trusted you. 

Simon watched you intensely, brown eyes watching every detail on your face, every expression as he reached up to the front of his balaclava and with a deep exhale he pulled it off his head. Your lips parted and your eyes slightly widened. He could hear how your own breath picked up in an instant. But you weren't scared or disgusted, not at all. All he saw was awe. 

You slowly licked your lips as you stepped closer, until you were standing over his knee with your parted legs. With a shuddered breath you leaned down, eyes lingering on his own before they flicked down to the cut on his left cheek. Your hand ghosted over his face, but didn't quite touch him, for some reason, this felt like another boundary you didn't want to push unless he said so. 

He noticed your hesitation, and he didn't blame you. But he didn't need to say anything, he simply nodded. 

He shuddered when he felt your soft fingers graze his skin and he momentarily closed his eyes, before opening them again to watch you bring a wet cotton to clean the dried blood on his face. 

“What happened to your face?” You asked quietly after a long silence, brushing the cotton over the cut that appeared to be a couple inches long right across his cheekbone.

“Enemy missile, the heli crashed. I dunno how I got out of there. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was being dragged out of that heli by Soap.” He explained, the memories of it all still being too blurry to remember clearly. But he did remember one thing; the thoughts going through his head in that moment. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.” 

“You’re lucky all you got out of that was a cut on your face and probably a concussion. You could’ve died.” Your throat nearly closed up then, your fingers stopping to rest on his face. You were both used to this idea of death, of going on an assignment and never coming back, but that didn’t make your heart ache any less.

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searched for yours, but you weren’t looking at him, “Well I’m alive aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, and you’re one lucky motherfucker for that,” Your voice was close to breaking, and your hands were shaking. Was that anger he heard in your voice? Or was it panic at the idea of him dying? “I could’ve helped, I just wish I had been there.” 

His gaze turned hard and his jaw tightened, “I don’t.” His tone shifted, there was nothing lighthearted about it, he was being dead serious. And you actually looked at him this time, and you found his eyes. But you didn’t respond, you couldn’t, so you stayed silent as you gave yourself the time to actually take him in. 

"So what's the diagnosis Doc, am I gonna make it?" The low timber of his voice startled you after a long minute or two, but not because it was loud, he barely raised his voice above a whisper, it startled you because you were so focused on taking in each and every one of his features, the unique shape of his nose, his sharp jaw, the three day stubble that scratched the pads of your fingers, his light eyelashes that contrasted the dark paint smeared over his eyes. You memorized all of them in case you never saw them again. 

A small smile eventually tugged at your lips and you chuckled softly, nodding, "Looks like it, you'll have a scar though." 

He chuckled, and this time, you could see the tiny curl of his lips when he did so, "I can live with that." 

His lips fell back into a flat line and instead, his eyes locked onto yours for a long second and he could swear he could hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was this close and he couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head.

Something was different. Something in the air felt different. The careful touches of your hands, they were different. And he felt different too. 

He leaned in, stopping only when he heard you take a small breath. One of his hands rested on your hip then, and when you didn't tense or shoved him away, he pulled you closer with a tight grip

“Tell me to stop, right now.” His voice was low and quiet, but you heard him loud and clear. And you didn't want him to. He didn't want to either.

"Simon…" 

He didn’t have to hear anything else, he heard all he needed to hear. The way his name fell from your tongue, the shakiness in your voice and the way you also leaned in, like your body was gravitating towards him. He knew. 

His large hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in, lips capturing yours into a kiss that left you without air. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer and forced you down on his thigh. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you welcomed it nonetheless and you threw your arms over his neck as his mouth covered yours. He took it slow, much to your surprise. For a man known for his brutality he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed you slowly, his tongue eventually slipped into your mouth, but it never felt messy or rushed. You honestly didn't know how long he held you like this, but eventually he let you go to breathe when he started to feel you panting. 

"This okay?" He asked barely above a whisper, the raspy ring of his voice filling your ears in a way that made your thighs unconscious clench against his leg. Which he definitely felt, but he kept that to himself. 

"Yeah, more than okay." You answered with a breathless laugh.

"Good."

Both of his hands were on your waist and he was on his feet in an instant. He completely forgot about the pain shooting through his arm when he hoisted you around his hips. It caught you off guard and you were wrapping your legs around his torso instinctively. 

"Simon your arm—" 

"I don't give a shit about my arm." He had his uninjured arm holding your thighs and he was looking at you with this look in his eyes you had never seen from him, but you liked it. 

You leaned down, lips crashing against his own with an urgency that made him want to find the bed even quicker. He eventually figured it out and your back was hitting the mattress before you even realized it. He held himself above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His lips left yours and attached themselves to your neck. He wouldn't leave a mark knowing everyone would see it, but he still took his time finding that spot that made you squirm under him while his own hands were making work of exploring. He ran a cautious hand into your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin until he found your breast, and he squeezed. You shivered under his touch and an unconscious moan escaped your lips. He could himself twitch against the constraint of his denim jeans at the mere sound. Fuck, if that's what you sounded when he barely touched you, he could only imagine what you would sound like wrapped around him. And he wondered when was the last time someone touched you like this. Probably as long as him. 

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?" His words caught your ear in a haze, it took you a minute to register them, but when you felt him pitch your covered nipple you answered. 

"I don't—” You swallowed, blinking a few times as you tried to clear your foggy mind, “A long time, years I think." You eventually answered, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to keep your head straight. 

He gave you a quiet hum, his hand moving down to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants, and he lifted his head to look at you, "Did you ever think about me touching you like this?" 

The way his words left his mouth, the raspiness in his accented voice and coated with arousal, it made your throat close up, and the way his intense and dark eyes were fixated on you didn't help either. You felt so small under this mountain of a man and his gaze, all you could do was nod. 

"Words love, use 'em." 

“Yes.”

A subtle smirk tugged his lips, the confirmation that you had wanted him as much as he had wanted you igniting a hunger and need that could only be satiated with one thing. You. 

He lifted his head to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that was so rough it made you gasp into his mouth. You snaked a hand the back of his head, one that quickly took a hold of his messy short brown strands, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The growl that came from his throat was otherwise muffled by your lips, but what he did next, however, didn't go unnoticed either. His large hands found the collar of your shirt, and without hesitating, he tugged and ripped the fabric right in half. The moan that ripped from your throat at his manhandling was anything but subtle, and he swallowed it happily. He pulled back, tugging your bottom lip as he did so and his dark hungry eyes fixated on the newly exposed skin once he laid eyes on you. He took a hard swallow as his hands traveled to your chest and much like he had just done with your shirt, he ripped your bra open by the thin fabric that connected both cups. 

“Fuck, look at you,” He breathed out, hands brushing over hardened nipples as he took in the sight of you in front of him, chest completely exposed, your hair loose and pooling around your head and arms now sprawled above your head, expectant and ready to do as he asked, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” You replied, breathless and reaching to tug at the hem of his own shirt with urgency. “Please Si.” 

Fuck, how could he ever deny you anything? And more so when you ask him like that? 

With a short nod, he moved his hands from your chest and grabbed the back of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. And fuck, the amount of gear this man wore definitely didn’t sell him short. His muscled chest was covered in various scars, ones you had seen, and others you hadn’t. And from his neck hung his dog tags, ones you had never ever seen him wear. Lord this man was going to be the death of you just as you were going to be his.

“Listen to me,” He said through a heavy breath, pulling you from your frenzied state for just a second, “If you want me to stop you tell me, no fancy words, tell me stop and I will. Is that understood?”

It took you a couple seconds to respond, your mind already foggy with the need to feel his touch, but you nodded at his words regardless, “Yes sir.”  

Your hands found the back of his neck and you crashed your lips against his with a newly found urgency that made him groan into your mouth. His calloused hands found the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down without hesitation. With a hard swallow you lifted your hips off the bed, allowing him to pull them down, your panties quickly following. He tossed them behind him somewhere to join his previously discarded vest and jacket. 

He brushed a long finger through your folds, swallowing the choked out moan that came out of your mouth. You shuddered under him, your thighs unconsciously closing around his hand as he drew circles around the bundle of nerves. You didn’t even remember the last time you were touched by hands that weren’t you own, and fuck, his felt so much better already. 

“No, no,” He tisked, pulling back to glance down at his hand practically disappearing between your thighs before he gave you a stern look, “Keep those legs open for me.” 

You did as you were told, you shakily spread your legs apart, and you were rewarded with a thick finger dipping into your entrance with ease. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around his finger and he could feel himself twitch in his pants, wondering just how you would feel around his cock instead. 

With a hiss of pleasure, you threw your head back and your hips slightly lifted off the mattress as he filled you with two of his long fingers. He drew them in and out until he could feel you start to drip on the palm of his hand. 

“Shit, shit, fuck.” Your lips fell open, silent cries leaving your mouth as he began to scissor you open with each snap of his wrist. It wasn't long before you could start to feel that delicious burn in the pit of your stomach. 

His thumb eventually found your nub, he pressed it and rubbed circles around it as he buried his thick fingers to the knuckle each time. He could already feel it, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, your shuddering thighs, your hands fisting the sheets. His lips found the shell of your ear, and as he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot he spoke. 

“You’re doing so good,” He coaxed, his thumb pressing your clit with enough force to make you twitch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, “This what you need love?” 

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep, his palm rutting against your clit. He could have you screaming anything he wanted and he knew it. 

“Yes Lieutenant!” 

“Good. Good girl.” 

He knew you were close, he could feel it. He was slamming his fingers in and out of you, burying them knuckle deep and crooking them against your most sensitive spot over and over. Until you were nothing more than a shaking and whimpering mess, begging for release. And he was gladly going to give it to you. 

“O-oh fuck. Fuck Simon please!” 

He nearly lost it when he heard you scream his name, your voice shaky with pleasure, and your own body overwhelmed with pleasure. But if there was anything he had a lot of, it was self control. He had a mission to accomplish. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you falling apart under his touch. Which happened soon enough. One of your hands flew to grip his wrist, the lewd sound of his palm slapping against your dripping core filling your ears in the most delicious way possible. And in a quick flash of a blinding heat, you tossed your head and buried your face in his shoulder, your toes lifting from the mattress and curled as your juices coated his hand. 

“Goddamn,” He cursed under his breath, the sound of his name leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper filling his ears as his fingers slowed, but never quite left you, “My name sounds so good when you say it like that.”

You barely caught his words as he spoke under his breath, but you did, and all you could say in response was a high pitched hum as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes were still screwed shut and your legs were still shaking when his fingers left you. With a quiet hiss, your head fell to the side as you brought a hand to your burning face, trying to compose yourself. 

“You still with me Doctor?” Simon spoke, amusement coating his tone. You chuckled softly and gave him a nod. “I need verbal confirmation love.” 

You wanted to roll your eyes at him because you knew he was teasing you, but you indulged him regardless. You turned your head in his direction and opened your eyes to find his own glued to your face of course.

“Solid copy Lieutenant.” You finally said with a small eye roll. He looked amused, and he nodded. But what caught your attention was the growing smirk on his face as his eyes eventually landed on his hand as he held it out of your eyesight. “What’s so funny?” 

“This,” He brought his hand closer to your face, and even through your slightly blurry vision, you could see it glisten. You opened your eyes more and your jaw dropped, your face burning with embarrassment. With a low chuckle, he rubbed his fingers together and then spread his index and middle finger apart to show the extent of the wetness you had left on his hand. 

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands over your face, effectively mortified, you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel pathetic. Simon, on the other hand, was quite pleased. 

“Gettin’ shy are we?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shove him slightly. 

Both of your hands eventually fell to his chest as your eyes found his brown ones, and the look he found behind those eyes of yours made him want to take you over and over until you were nothing but a shaking and whimpering mess. 

“Lay down Simon.” You eventually said, both hands flat on his scar littered chest. He took a deep breath and he nodded slowly. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He was on his back in an instant, eyes never leaving you as you threw a leg over his hips and sat just above his crotch. Your thighs burned with ache as they were stretched out over his massive body. His hands held your hips as he watched you through hooded eyes, very tempted to shove you down on his cock, but he let you take your time, this time. 

“Let me ride you, please.” Your words were quiet, pleading and desperate, and they shot straight to his cock. He honestly didn’t know where this side of you came from, pleading and so eager to please him, but fuck he wanted to explore every inch of it. His fingers dug into your hips, but he remained still, only nodding.

“Permission granted.” He replied with a quiet hiss, his patience growing thin the longer he had you on top of him, your wetness coating his lower abdomen. “Go on.” 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, the buckle ratling a few times as you tried to undo it, the button of his denim jeans quickly following. He momentarily closed his eyes when your hands brushed against his clothed erection. He blew out an exhale through his nose as he lifted you up just enough to be able to pull himself from the confines of his boxers. He let out a long breathy groan as he freed himself, his cock slapping against his stomach. With a hard swallow, you held yourself above his cock, hands resting against his lower abdomen to brace yourself as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick. 

He was expecting you to take your time, to take him slowly, so when you sank down on him, his length slipping inside a few inches before being met with resistance, he had to take a deep breath. 

“Easy..” He coaxed, easing a hand up and down your stretched out thighs, watching closely the way your eyes closed and your face twisted with a mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so big..” You blurted out between breaths. Simon opened his eyes in surprise at your remark, he knew he was significantly big, but he wasn’t expecting to hear you say it. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch the slightest bit.

“You’re doing good. Slow.” He spoke lowly, guiding your hips little by little, hissing softly each time you took another inch of him, until you sat fully on him, and even then you couldn’t fit all of him. He allowed himself to close his eyes as you sat still, your hips only rolling ever so slightly as you adjusted to the massive size of him. “There ya go, atta girl.”

When he felt you were ready, he guided your hips up, lifting you off his cock inch by agonizing inch, his eyes stuck to where his cock left your soaked cunt, and when he was almost all the way out, he pushed your hips down without a warning. You let out a quiet cry, you dug your nails into his abs and your thighs tensed. His eyes shot up to your face with concern and he sat still, but you were quickly shaking your head.

“I’m okay Simon, please.” Your eyes found his and you nodded reassuringly, teeth digging into your bottom lip eagerly. He squeezed your hips and nodded.

You were rocking and rolling your hips, your walls clutching his length with a bit of resistance. And you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up each time you rolled your hips. But he stayed still, only his fingers dug into your hips, surely to leave bruises in the morning. His eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath as you moved at your own pace. For now.

“Fuck, come on love,” He encouraged, voice restrained as you eventually moved with more ease. His words gave you a new found confidence, and with such, you lifted yourself up and sank back down on him, and again, and again, until your whimpers turned into moans. “That’s it. Fuck that’s it, take what you need.”

You’d be damned if you didn’t do as he said.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you bounced on his cock. His eyes moved from your face to where your bodies connected, he watched with glazed eyes as his cock disappeared inside your walls, only to appear again covered in your juices. He focused on it, the sound of his belt buckle clicking each time you bounced filling his ears.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” His words came out through breathy groans as he guided your hips again and his own hips involuntarily lifted every once in a while. 

“Please Simon, more, I want more— Fuck—”

He had to take in the way you whined his name, the way you begged, it was so fucking intoxicating and he never wanted to stop hearing it. 

“Yeah? You want more?” 

You were nodding frantically, your movements only doing so much to give you what you both needed and he knew it. 

He sat up, his chest now pressed against yours as he sneaked his tattooed arm behind your back, holding you upright as he thrusted upwards. He found a pace quick, and even faster and deeper than the one you had made yourself. He had you twitching and shaking in his grip as cries ripped from your throat in a matter of a minute or two. And you definitely weren’t complaining, his cock was pounding deeper, hitting that perfect spot better than you could ever get it there yourself. 

“Yes! Fuck, Simon please, please don’t stop.” You were begging frantically, your hands landing on his back and your nails dragged across his scar littered back and shoulders. He took in the way you pleaded, the way you moaned, and took particular note of the squeal you gave when his thick cock hit your g-spot with ease. And he did so, over, and over, until all you could say was his name between cries. 

“Yeah, like that?” Again, and again his cock brushed against the perfect spot. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, your face was buried in his shoulder and tears slipped from your eyes. 

“Yes!” You sobbed into his shoulder, your walls clenching around his cock in the same way you had around his fingers a little while before. 

“Shit, come on, come on. Be a good girl and come for me.” He muttered, not once faltering his pace, only bringing you closer to the edge with each delicious drag of his cock. He slipped a hand into your hair, fingers fisting around the strand a as he pulled your head back, making sure you were looking at him, “Look at me, that’s it, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come.” 

His name slipped from your tongue over and over as you came, somehow managing to keep your eyes open as your whole body shuddered violently. Tears slipped from your eyes as you sobbed his name and you brought your forehead to rest against his, one of your shaky hands resting on the back of his neck. The hand on your hair moved your face, and his fingers brushed against your cheek, catching your tears. 

“Fuuuck, that’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He groaned out as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

He felt your wetness coat his cock even more, allowing him to slip just ever so deeply until he was nearly rutting against you, the patches of hair at the base of his cock brushing against your oversensitive clit. With a guttural groan, the hand on your face slipped to the base of your neck and he held it between his long fingers as he fucked into you with a new urgency, like he was chasing his own release. He fucked you like it too, his thrusts were sharper and shallow, and they faltered. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered, droplets of sweats rolling from his forehead and mixing with the already messy grease paint covering his eyes. His forehead fell to your chest as held your neck in place, “I’m right there… Fuck I—”

He was about to pull himself out of you, but you slipped out from your drunkenly euphoric state for just a second to slam down on his cock until your hips met, hands on his shoulders as you sank down on him with enough force to slip a breathy moan from him. 

“I have an IUD. I-I want you to, please.” You said shakily into his ear, your words barely coherent, but you knew what you meant, and he did too. 

A low growl ripped from his throat as he gave you a few more thrusts before his hips faltered, his other hand found your ass and he held you down on his cock. His fingers squeezed your throat and a guttural moan left his lips as he spilled himself inside you. 

“Bloody fuckin' Christ,” he panted into your chest, most likely smearing his war paint on your chest, but you honestly didn’t give a fuck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

You gave him a weak hum, eyes closing as you tried to breathe once he let go of your neck. “I’m guessing your arm doesn’t hurt anymore?” You laughed weakly, brushing a hand under the gauze you had placed there earlier. 

He lifted his head, brown eyes as intense as ever as he slightly tilted his head, “What arm?”

You shot him a playful glare and shook your head as you unwrapped yourself from him and with a long breath of exhaustion, landed on your back next to him, your mixed releases dripping down your thigh. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of his jeans, mixed releases pooling at the front of the denim. With a sigh, he tucked himself into his boxers, catching a glance of you, chest still glistening with sweat, hair messy and pooling above your head as you lied with closed eyes. He shook his head, about to stand up to find something to clean his mess with when you spoke. 

“Simon?” His eyes found yours on him and he nodded, allowing you to continue. You bit your lip and sat up with a sharp exhale, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities, “How long have we known each other?”

The question hit him unexpectedly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but he answered quickly, not even having to think about it, “About three years.” 

“Why did you take your mask off now?” You dared to ask, the curiosity of what suddenly changed eating you up. 

His lips fell in a flat line, his eyes opening as he remembered that he had, in fact, taken his mask off, he had felt so comfortable that he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing it. He didn't answer right away, he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as you watched him expectant. You brought the sheets up to your chest, bringing them with you as you moved closer to him, until your shoulder was touching his. You looked up at him, but you never rushed him, you simply waited patiently. 

“When the heli crashed,” He began, “I knew I was going to die. And I was ready to die. And then I thought..” His lips fell in a flat line again as he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, but you didn’t cry, you simply nodded for him to continue, “All I could think about in that moment is that I was going to leave this world when the only woman I had ever cared about didn’t even know what I looked like.”

Your lips fell open and your eyes widened with awe. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew what he meant.

“Simon…”

“Either of us could die at any moment, I realized that when I carried your unconscious body through that field, and I realized it when the heli crashed, didn’t make sense to pretend I don’t give a shit about you.” 

Your hand found his face and you pulled him down into a deep kiss, one that said everything you both needed to say, everything you couldn’t say with words. 

You were the remedy to all his injuries and the bandage to his damaged heart. You were all he needed and he’d be damned if he let that go.

[aurianavaloria]

KoH - To Rival Eden (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Split (Baldwin - Fem!Reader)

Length: Short (<4k words)

TW: Vague mentions of leprosy

A/N: Well, here we have it, the much-anticipated sequel to "What Good May Come"! I took your feedback into account regarding Y/N's preferences, as well as circumstances and relationships, and created another chapter in this little romance. As in the previous story, I've done my best to keep Y/N as generic as possible with a personality that seemed to fit what is currently popular. I hope you enjoy it as much as the first, and once again, thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

Baldwin could hardly believe his good fortune.

Tiberias had spoken truth: she loved him.

He hadn’t slept a wink that night after she left his chambers. Had barely paid attention to his physicians’ work as he’d given his failing body to their care for the hundred-thousandth time in his short life. Whilst his mortal shell continued its slow and endless march towards inevitable disintegration, his heart and mind were soaring above the clouds, his spirit filled with a fire he hadn’t felt in years.

Lady Y/N loved him.

He lay in his bed, eyes staring up into the canopy’s shadows, yet unseeing of anything that was actually there. Instead, he saw her sitting before him as she had that evening, the smile dancing across her lips, the color in her cheek…

Thus lost in his thoughts, all he had to do was close his eyes to still feel her warmth in his arms, the touch of her hand upon his own… still smell the sweet perfume that cloaked her in its allure. Even as his fears screamed at him that every moment he spent near her was a risk he was selfish to take, that the poison coursing through his veins could destroy her like some fetid rot devouring a perfect flower, all he desired was to hold her again… to imagine what her hair would feel like slipping between his silk-gloved fingers…

These visions of her swirled in his mind all night long and into the next week, until he thought he might go mad with them. He had never thought much of the songs of the troubadours before, dismissing their melodramatic lyrics as nothing more than mere fantasy.

But now he had tasted that very pain of love of which they sang, and he knew they were right.

Love was insanity.

Unfortunately, it was an insanity he had to endure through nearly a week’s worth of increasingly-numerous duties that forbade his interaction with anyone other than his advisors and court petitioners. Conversation on such matters proved his only respite, for when he was finally left alone once more, she haunted the depths of his mind.

And as his quill slowly glided through the practiced motions of his signature upon his latest letter, his aching heart wondered if he haunted hers the same way…

He hoped and prayed she had not taken offense to his exclusion of visitors outside his immediate council. It was all such ill-timing, and yet the administration of his kingdom could not wait for courtship. He could not afford the distraction of anyone else’s presence amidst such delicate matters, and there were some things that he refused to delegate to others.

That he could not trust to others.

The thoughts of sharing those tasks with a queen he truly loved and adored above all else, however…

Plunk!

He abruptly sat back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut.

That was it. It was time for some fresh air.

Rising slowly to his feet, he reached for his hooded cloak where it hung nearby. Without even being asked, his servant Ihsan wordlessly appeared from the shadows to help him don it, moving with quiet grace.

“Shall I accompany His Majesty?” the Christian Syrian asked, aiding Baldwin in pulling the hood over his head. Jerusalem’s sun was bright today, and harsh on the ill king’s eyes.

“No, I shall walk alone, I think.”

“As you wish, sire.”

And loyal Ihsan melted into those shadows once more, as quickly as he had emerged.

With that, Baldwin began making his way to the palace gardens, keeping his pace measured as he followed the long halls, close to the wall should he need it for support. Alas, his numbed foot would allow for nothing else. Yet, even so, he didn’t wish for this stroll to be a hurried one, crammed in between the endless sessions of his work. He needed time to center himself – to clear his mind and ease his heart.

His hood low over his mask, he still squinted against the sun as he emerged into the palace gardens. The strength of its rays had only seemed to intensify in recent years, even as their warmth had faded; his body hardly felt it, now, beaming down upon him, as if he had already hovered between the land of the living and the dead. But his eyes most certainly did, and he kept his head dipped low, his mask half-shadowed by the hood of his cloak.

Anyone else who had chosen to wander the gardens the same as he soon found themselves departing, as usual. The king was instantly recognizable, even cloaked like this, his presence garnering immediate notice by his courtiers. Their dread of his disease they always attempted to cover with pretense – the courtesy of yielding the space to their liege-lord as they offered deep bows and curtseys. Yet they always slipped away with the hiss of whispers swirling in their wake…

His lips twisted in amusement at the thought that his experience behind a mask had made it easier to see past theirs.

Thus, he largely ignored them as they bestowed upon him their customary greetings, their well-rehearsed gestures of obeisance. And the answers he gave in reply were just as superficial. They deserved nothing more. Little by little, they left as he slowly made his way along those meandering paths, bordered by every plant native to these lands, flowering or not…

All but one.

At the end of one of the paths, perched upon a bench before a towering hedge, was Lady Y/N.

She sat with a small book open in her lap, her garb a simple green bliaut with a matching embroidered belt. A brilliant white veil over her hair, pinned to the barbette that looped beneath her chin, shielded her downturned face from the sun. Even from this angle, he could see the slight smile that played across her lips, and he felt his own mimic the expression beneath his mask.

The sight of her thus made him pause his stride, and he considered backtracking to the previous fork in the path and leaving her to her peace. Yet another part of him desired nothing more than to speak to her – to self-indulgently converse, even if only briefly, with this sweet angel of a woman he’d neglected for the sake of his divinely-mandated duty.

What resulted then, was an indecisive hovering, a prolonged pause at the bells of the lovely flowers that brushed his silken sleeve – blossoms whose aroma was now all but lost to his dulled senses. But none of the velvet-petaled jewels gracing this paradise of a garden now compared to the one he could not tear his eyes from, yet hadn’t the heart to approach…

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

Jerusalem’s palace garden was a sanctuary as peaceful as the cloister of any church you’d seen and perhaps twice as beautiful. The open air was filled with the scent of the exotic flowers that had been meticulously cultivated there, surrounding visitors in an alluring embrace. The cool shade beneath the towering hedgerows and elegant palms had been too tempting to resist, and, with a new book of poetry in hand, you’d made a beeline for an empty bench in the farthest shadowed nook you could find.

Gardens such as these were haunts for lovers, or so you’d been told. Some had even been designed in such a manner that encouraged clandestine trysts – a convenient niche here, a cleverly-planted bush there…

Alas, there were no such surreptitious visits in your near future. No, you’d merely come to the gardens this day for some fresh air and relative peace and quiet.

It was with great eagerness that you had rushed to the bench, sweeping your skirts beneath you and opening the book upon your lap. It was a loan, in fact, from Sibylla; the princess had been spending more time with you in the past week, indulging in light conversation mostly revolving around scholarly interests and pastimes. During the course of one of these discussions, she mentioned having received a few books from France and, quite unexpectedly, asked if you would like to borrow one of them.

Such a generous offer had been impossible to refuse, and your eyes had lit up as the princess passed you the small, leather-bound book of poetry, which you handled with utmost care.

The plan was to spend an upcoming evening sharing what the two of you had enjoyed most about the tomes over refreshments.

It was something you rather looked forward to.

Now, you were fully immersed in the book, your eyes drinking in the copyist’s hand as it swirled across the delicate vellum pages; it was a work of art in and of itself, to say nothing of the words it held within. So engrossed were you that, for a long moment, you failed to notice you were being watched…

But then, suddenly, a slight movement from the periphery of your vision caused you to glance up, and for a brief second, you thought you saw an angel. You quickly realized, however, that it was not.

The awestruck smile that tugged at your lips was perhaps a bit uncouth, but you couldn’t help it. Angel he was not, and yet the king was still radiant enough that you wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see a pair of wings upon his back or a fiery halo ringing his head. The hooded cloak he wore, trimmed in gold, was such a blinding white in the midday sun that it almost blurred his outline, and the half-concealed silver mask with its perfectly-chiseled countenance could easily be mistaken for the face of a saint…

“Your Majesty!”

On reflex, you stood, abandoning the book on the bench before starting to dip into a curtsey, but the upwards flash of his gloved hand stopped you mid-movement.

“I require no epithets or courtesies from you, Lady Y/N,” he replied as he wandered down the path towards you. “I should hope that I may abandon such performance in your presence.”

The warmth in his voice heated your cheeks. “Very well… Baldwin.” This was only the second time you’d dared to speak his name without a title preceding it, and it felt oddly right on your tongue. “If that is the case, then I must also insist that I am simply Y/N.”

His hooded head dipped. “Of course. Y/N.”

Something about the way he said your name made your heart flutter, and you glanced away briefly even as you sidled nearer to him. “It is good to see you again. Baldwin. You are well, I hope?”

“I am now,” he replied softly. Now you could look up into his silver-clad face and see the glitter of his eyes beneath the shadow of his hood. In their impossibly-blue gaze you found a softness that belied the sharpness of their hue.

“I… missed you,” you breathed at last, your voice lowering. “I must admit, I’ve worried for you. Lord Tiberias assured me all was well, but… well, you’ll forgive me for being a bit distrusting.”

A low chuckle emanated from him. “If there is anyone you may trust with his honest assessment of matters, it is Tiberias.”

A chuckle of your own escaped you in response to his jesting remark before he continued in a far more serious tone, “I must offer you my sincerest apologies, Y/N – here you’ve given me the most beautiful gift anyone has ever bestowed upon me, and I’ve done nothing but neglect you in return. Already, I fear I must seem a poor partner in courtship.”

Your mouth opened a little in shock at that. “Absolutely nothing of the sort! I understand you are busy. I know you wouldn’t have isolated yourself like this otherwise.” A light smile played upon your lips as you met his eyes again. “I’m just glad to see you again now.”

It was then you reached forth, brushing his nearest forearm lightly in reassurance. The damask silk of his sleeve was so very soft and smooth beneath your fingertips. And warm. Though from his body heat or the sun, it was difficult to tell…

Suddenly, another movement out of the corner of your eye had you glancing past the king at a visitor on the garden path: a small tabby cat – silver with stripes of black – trotting along the hedgerow towards you.

“Oh, look!”

You pointed, and Baldwin half-turned to follow your gesture, another quiet chuckle following once he realized what had caught your attention. “Ah, a palace mouser, I see. Either that or a street cat has managed to breach the walls.”

His choice of words elicited a light laugh from you. “Perhaps he is a scout, then. Come to assess our defenses.”

The two of you watched as the cat slowed a few paces away, looking up at the both of you.

“Mrow?”

It was a questioning little sound the tomcat made as he hunkered close, sniffing first at the toe of Baldwin’s shoe before doing the same at the hem of your skirt. For a moment he merely stood there, his banded tail a waving S in the air as he continued to take in king and lady with shining green eyes.

“Mrrp.”

A quiet trill followed as the cat proceeded to bump up against your shin, tail curling about as he wound his way behind you before bumping against Baldwin’s calf in the same manner. He paused, staring upwards, and then he repeated the pattern, his path creating an infinity knot around both your feet.

“Aww, I think the darling wants attention,” you cooed, bending at the waist towards the little feline as you held out your hand. You were rewarded with another bump up against your palm, whereupon you happily scratched behind the cat’s ears, a grin plastered to your face.

“I would greet him as he wishes,” Baldwin remarked beside you, “but I fear I’d lose balance and keep going.”

You glanced up at him. “Well… we can’t have His Majesty tumbling face-first into the roses, can we?”

“No, I do believe that would tarnish my reputation for being upright.”

A snort escaped you at that. Baldwin’s sense of humor never ceased to amaze you – that he could find humor at all amidst his terrible suffering was a testament to his fortitude.

Confident that the cat was comfortable with you, you then reached for him, moving to pick him up, which he allowed with surprising ease. Palace mouser indeed, and obviously used to human company; you were certain no street cat would allow such familiar handling so soon…

“Oh, look, he has little gloves, like you.”

Your observation of the cat’s stark white mittens, curled as they were overtop your arm, had Baldwin chuckling lightly once more, and he nodded in reply, his own gloved hand slowly approaching. “So he does. Alas, I fear his bear weapons mine do not.”

He paused long enough for the cat to sniff again at his fingers – which he did – before gently stroking the top of the creature’s head between his ears. Almost immediately, a rumbling purr emanated from the feline’s throat, his eyes half-closing. Despite the near tentativeness of Baldwin’s movements, the cat seemed quite satisfied with the attention, though a part of you wondered how much the king himself gleaned from it…

“Can you feel that?” you heard yourself ask.

“Barely,” was the quiet reply, a lengthy pause following before he withdrew and added, “I relish moments like these while I can. There will come a day when I shall feel nothing with these diseased hands, glove or not.”

His words shot like an arrow straight to your heart. As much as you both tried to ignore it, to look past it, the truth of the matter was that Baldwin was slowly being eaten alive from the inside out, and it was only a matter of time before it utterly consumed him. Just this simple encounter with a sweet palace cat was enough to bring reality crashing down around both your ears.

And you hated it.

Swallowing, you cleared your throat and then bent to set the curious feline back on his feet. “Let’s let our intrepid little friend here continue on his way now, to do the noble work his kind has been mandated to do, yes?”

Once released, you gave the cat one final pat on his head and he was off, trotting away down the path before promptly disappearing under a bush.

“Y/N?”

The softness of your name upon Baldwin’s lips suddenly brought your attention back to him, and then there was his hand on your cheek, cupping your face gently as his eyes searched yours. You could feel the concern in their depths, his gaze probing your own for answers. No doubt he sensed the shift in your mood – you never had been the best at keeping your emotions hidden…

“I wish I could do more for you,” you whispered before he could ask. “I wish I could… I wish…”

There were so many things that you wished. You wished for him to be healthy again. You wished you could lift the many burdens from his shoulders. You wished you could rid his court of the treacherous vultures just waiting for his final breath to tear apart the corpse of his dream. You wished you could send his enemies running for their lives beyond the desert sands. Alas, you could do none of that.

But you could do this…

Without a word, you swiftly closed what gap was left between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Instantly, he stiffened, his hands clamping to your shoulders on reflex, their grip tighter than you anticipated.

“Y/N…”

“Hush!” you hissed, interrupting any warning he felt impelled to give you. “Let me do this… let me do it, and let yourself have it!”

You could feel him tremble in your arms, his breathing uneven. For a harrowing moment, he was naught but a statue, indecisive – no-doubt waging a war in his own mind, if you knew him by now as well as you thought you did…

Whichever side flew the banners of Propriety and Precaution, though, evidently lost the battle, as a shaky sigh escaped him at last, a quivering hiss of breath between the lips of his mask.

“God forgive me.”

And then, in a move that made your heart flutter wildly again, his own arms slid around you, pulling you into him and shrouding you in sun-soaked silk. The pungent scent of herbal salves alongside crisp linen followed, piercing past the exotic fragrances of the garden flowers, although you detected the distinct note of roses rising amidst it all – perhaps from the oils the physicians applied to soothe his ravaged flesh. He cocooned you in this warmth, the hardness of his mask as it rested atop of your head a sharp contrast to the softness of the rest of him. And thus he held you tight, tighter than you had expected him to, your ear pressed to his chest where you heard the quickened thumping of his heart.

For one blessed moment, nothing else existed. Perhaps he was an angel after all, just awaiting the wings set aside for him in Heaven. For here he held you in earthly Paradise amidst a garden to rival Eden, shining bright as the light of the sun that enveloped you both in its purifying rays, and you knew peace…

You heard the raggedness in his breath, however. The unsteadiness of his hold. Pulling back from him, you promptly swept his hands up in your own, tugging him towards the bench. “Come. Sit. Stay with me a while and forget your troubles, if only for a few moments. If you can spare them, at least.”

His regard held an almost painful tenderness as it met yours, his voice dropping to a silken timbre. “That and more, should you but ask.”

Your eyes never left his, then, as you led him with ease to your chosen perch. Scooping up Sibylla’s book, you made room for him to sit beside you there, and as he slowly settled himself, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief, you were keenly aware that your legs were touching, hip to knee…

“Do you like poetry?” you inquired, choosing to ignore how your heart continued to race a little at his continued close proximity.

He glanced sideways, his eyes flicking downwards towards the book in your lap. “As much as the next person, I suppose. Is that a new acquisition?”

You grinned up at him. “Princess Sibylla loaned it to me, actually. We’re planning on discussing it in a few days.”

He nodded slowly at that, seeming to approve. “My sister is in need of good company. I am glad to hear you are getting along well with her.”

“She terrified me at first,” you admitted with a laugh. “But I think she truly wishes for us to be friends.”

Baldwin’s gaze leveled at you behind the mask. “And you were not terrified of me?”

The question was a soft one, wavering slightly, though from recent exertion or emotion, you couldn’t quite tell.

A gentle smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Never.”

For a long moment, his eyes searched yours, and you couldn’t help but let them. Their color, their shape, their intensity… they were so beautifully expressive that it didn’t matter that his mask concealed everything else. When they looked at you, you were almost certain you could feel what he felt in your own heart. And what you felt now was more warmth. This time, though, it blossomed from within as those eyes relaxed into a half-lidded stare that was so much like that of the cat you’d just found…

Aware of the blush heating your cheeks at such a look, you finally tore your gaze from his and cleared your throat. “Would you like to hear a bit of this? It’s rather good…”

“Yes, I very much would,” he answered, his tone an almost distant one.

With that, you opened the book where you left off, taking a breath before beginning to read aloud. You hoped he didn’t mind romances, as that was precisely what this one was – a chivalric tale of doomed love…

Any self-consciousness you possessed about the contents was banished, however, the moment you felt his hand curl around your waist.

It was so light a touch it barely registered at first. But then you saw the flash of white out of the corner of your eye, bright upon the green of your gown. Felt the slight weight of that hand upon the curve of your waist. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him in response, and his grip tightened a little.

“I am not hurting you, am I?” you asked quietly, concerned about the effects of any weight against his fragile flesh.

“You could never hurt me,” he replied in a whisper.

And that was the moment you felt his head rest against yours as you continued to read.

Thank you all very much for reading! 😊I hope you enjoyed! ✨ And if you have any other ideas for Y/N, I'd love to hear them!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule V

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: tysm for all your support! Our Agustd is now…showing.

Masterlist, Latibule IV

“What the fuck is that?”

You turned around to glare at the man with a confused look. Suga was looking down, observing what he called ‘that’ with his brows furrowed and his eyes squinted. He could not have looked any more disgusted and confused than he did at the very moment.

You briskly walked to him, flashing him a tight smile before pulling his arm so he could follow you, however reluctantly. You stopped dragging him when the two of you reached the kitchen. You looked up at him while he was busy looking down at your hand that was trying so hard to encircle his thick wrist with a look of a somewhat confusion. Suga couldn’t, for the life of him, answer why he felt something he didn’t want to name. And now, you were too aware of the feel of his skin, of how thick his wrist was, and of how the heat emitting from his skin felt good. You were much too aware of him.

And upon realization, you dropped his wrist carelessly as though it burned you. “That-“ you pointed your finger to the living room while glaring daggers at him. “-is a child.”

He frowned, his dark locks falling on his face as he look down at you. “Fine. Why the fuck is a child here, angel?”

You sighed in exasperation, explaining to him as patiently as you could that his father asked you to look out for his child because he had to travel for work, to which he rolled his eyes dramatically.

See, this was why you thought he was similar to a cat. He hated people, he hated morning, and he hated being hungry.

Was it morning? Check.

Was there another person in your house today? Check.

Had he not eaten yet? Check.

“That’s free childcare, angel! You should charge for it!”

“He’s my friend!”

“And?”

“And this is a favor! Have you not heard of that? Are you not familiar with the concept?”

Oh, he knew favor. He knew a lot of people owed him one and he was going to collect all of them soon.

“Do you hate children? Is that it?” You asked again when he failed to answer you, stepping closer to him to annoy him further. You didn’t know why you found it so entertaining to see him lost his cool, or how his face scrunched up when he was annoyed. But he stood his ground. He looked down at you, his lips tilted to the side as he focused his dark eyes on you.

“No. I hate people in general.” But he didn’t hate you. He wasn’t put off by your existence. He wasn’t happy when you were away for too long. But these were the things he would never admit to himself.

Nope.

“Well, he’s staying here until tomorrow. Be kind! Or else!”

He had the audacity to look affronted as though he wouldn’t do the exact opposite of what you asked of him. Right now would be the prime example.

“Who are you?” Suga asked him once the two of you returned to the living room where the child was happily watching cartoons. He was looking at the child as though be was dangerous when

“I’m Jackson,” he answered back, his little arms folded on his front as he looked up at the man questioning him with an equally defiant glare. “Who are you?”

Suga turned to you, his eyes in disbelief at what he heard. “He named his child his name?”

You blinked twice, unable to even defend your friend. But you didn’t have to. His child got his sassiness, after all.

“Your name please, ahjussi,” he repeated as he tapped his foot on the ground in obvious irritation at the older man. This was the first time he saw Suga and he automatically hated him. You were his favorite aunt, albeit you were the only aunt he had. But still! He thought you were too beautiful for the man you called your fiancé. He thought he didn’t deserve you.

“Ajhussi?” He repeated in disbelief as he squinted his eyes at the child. “I’m…Suga.”

“What kind of name is that?”

“Yah! What kind of name is Jackson?! Can’t your father think of another name? Is he that-“

You could feel a headache coming as you listened to them bicker. “Guys-“

“My friends said I have a nice name!”

“Yeah? Well, they’re lying to you!”

“At least I have friends! You look like you have enemies!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong though, Suga thought as he paused. He’d give this round to the kid. But he would return with a vengeance.

“Noona,” the young Jackson turned to look at you with his puppy eyes and an adorable pout on his lips that you couldn’t help but cooed at him and opened your arms so he could hug you.

He wrapped his little arms around your middle before whining at you. “Are you sure that man is who you want to be with? There are better guys out there, noona,” he said as he turned his head to glare at the other man.

“Yah!”

To which, he just stuck his tongue out.

“Angel, why is he still here? Can’t his mother take care of him?! Or did his mother also find him insufferable?”

“Suga!” You reprimanded him as you felt the child’s small body shook with impending tears. You glared at the man before hugging the now wailing child. For heaven’s sake, did he really have to fight with a child?! “Are you a child?! You should know better!”

“What?! He started it!”

“His mother…passed away,” you whispered the last part, feeling sorry for the child who never knew his mother. You thought that this was why he was somehow too attached with you. You were the only female figure in his life because his father refused to date anyone. He had said one night when you asked him why he never dated despite it being years already and he only said that he found the one. That his wife was it, that anyone would only fail in comparison to her.

You thought it was sad to have found your soulmate, only for her to be taken from your grasp forever, to be only left with memories that would fade in time, to be the only one whose love had no where else to go.

Suga’s eyes widened in realization, his gaze on you as what you said sunk in. He always knew he was an asshole, an abomination of a greedy man. He knew he was all that was wrong in mankind, but God, seeing that child cried his heart out displaced him. It felt…wrong. Was he developing a fucking conscience? Was this safe place making him soft?

Were you making him a better man?

He turned his dark eyes on the weeping child before he stood up. He clapped the child’s shoulder, “If you stop crying, I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You watched the two in front of you devoured their ice cream like it was the end of the world. After fighting like vicious animals, they were sitting in front of you quietly as though they never said hurtful things to one another. You didn’t know that Suga even know this place. You thought that he must probably roamed around the town while you were at work and must have familiarized himself with the town. When he said that he knew a place, this was the last place you thought. This was the most colorful place in the whole town and it was also the loudest with pop songs playing on the speaker and children running all over the place. He was too in contrast with the aesthetic of the place with his all-black clothes and the emotionless face he was showing to the world.

You looked up to watch them again when you caught him already looking intently at you- or more specifically, your ice cream. “What?”

You ordered what you considered the normal flavor, chocolate and cookies and cream which were your favorite, while they ordered fruit-flavored ice cream. Suga thought it was peculiar that you didn’t eat fruits and you said he was weirder for fighting with a kid, to which he had no comeback for.

“I want your ice cream,” he announced as though it was his birth right to receive everything he ever desired.

“Suga- we talked about this.”

“About what?” He asked absentmindedly as he reached his spoon to your side when you slapped his hand away.

“What’s the magic word?”

He glared at you, his jaw clenched uncaring if he was bringing the vibe of the place down, or that he looked like an angry kitten.

“It’s ‘please’, ahjussi,” Jackson quipped up, looking up at the man sitting beside him with doe eyes. “Did you not know that?”

“Yes, Suga, did you not know that?” You asked him with faux confusion, batting your eyelashes at him annoyingly.

“May I please have your ice cream?”

“Of course, honey.”

You couldn’t help but smiled triumphantly at him before scooping your ice cream and lifting it to him. He glared at you before holding your hand closer to his lips before opening his mouth devouring the ice cream, all while holding eye contact with you.

And fuck it if you weren’t entranced with the way his lips seemed so pink…or the way his dark eyes seemed to hold so much hunger that you felt your cheeks heated up. You tried to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let go.

“Delicious, angel,” he said lowly before flashing you a smirk and placing your hand down gently on the table. “I’ll go pay the bill.”

You blinked owlishly, shaking the haze from your mind. “What? You don’t have money. Let me pay-“

He regarded you with bored eyes before lifting his eyebrow, “You told me to get a job, right?”

You were still reeling from the added information as he already walked to the counter. He got a job? When? Also, who would hire someone as socially inadequate as he was?

Jackson grinned widely as he spotted his best friend from across the diner. The other child was waving at him excitedly. He turned to you, jumping from his seat with an elated expression on his face. “Noona! May I say hi to my friend?”

“Of course, honey. Just be careful and don’t run.”

You watched him walked to the other side and you only lost sight of him for a moment when you watched Suga smiled with the old lady working in the diner. He looked like he was familiar with her. Your brows furrowed. How would he, an anti-social, always irritated, mannerless man, know her? Unless…did he work here?

Your thoughts were cut off when you heard an aggressive shouting from behind you.

“Watch where you’re going, little boy!” The man hissed down at Jackson who accidentally bumped into him. He looked like he was about to cry as the man continually berated him that you snapped up to your seat and walked to them. You placed your hands around the little boy’s shoulders, hugging him closer to you as shield from the screaming man.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

He turned his sinister eyes on you, “Are you her mother? You let your son run around like that? What kind of mother are you?!”

“He was not running. I know because I saw. And what about you?! You’re a grown man who shouted at a child over a harmless mistake!”

He sneered at you, his beady eyes roaming on your form. He chuckled tonelessly, before walking closer to you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he whispered before pushing your shoulder hard with his index finger, making you step back from the force. “Do you know who I am?”

“Should I care?”

“I can ruin you and your family-“

He was about to hit you again when a someone caught his finger in his fist. Suga stepped in, his eyes devoid of any emotion, his jaw clenched as he walked closer to the man.

“I’d think twice about doing that,” he ordered coldly, stepping closer to him that the two of you were now hidden behind his back.

And it was as though he noticed a predator more dangerous than him because he did nothing but gulped as he struggled to look into Suga’s eyes. Suga whispered something inaudible to the man before smirking at him and dropping his hold on him. You felt him wrapped his arm around you as he guided you out of the diner and out of reach of the customers’ curious eyes.

The silence was overbearing, so unalike the one you were used to with him, the one where you could break it with your sassiness and teasing ways to him. No. This time, he looked like a different person. He still hadn’t released his hold on you and you could feel the tension emitting from his hand. You were almost to the park, the one you’d promised the little boy you could go to after the diner, when he paused his tracks.

You turned to look at him- only to find him already staring at you with a swirling darkness in his eyes. He let go of you, his hand that had just touched you was clenching.

“You go ahead, angel. I left my wallet in there,” he stated after a moment, his hands now in his pockets before turning around and walking back.

—-

“I told you I’d be back.”

The man’s eyes widened when he noticed Suga casually leaning against the wall of the narrow and quiet walkway. Had he not said a word, he would have walked passed the man who emitted an insane and menacing vibe. His dark hair was falling on his face, his scarred eye leering up at him as though he was elated to finally find a prey in this quiet and sleepy town.

“I-I don’t want any trouble, man-“

“Tsk tsk,” he pushed himself off of the wall before sauntering to the man. He looked relax as though nothing could phased him…as though he wasn’t about to do a crime. “It’s too late for that…man.”

The man whimpered as he was slammed to the wall, his body falling weakly to the ground. He couldn’t hold his own weight, no, not against Suga. His huge body was likened to a rag doll as the man he thought was the devil incarnate landed blow after blow on his body. And he did so without any emotions in his eyes.

“You listen here and you listen good, asshole,” Suga said in a toneless voice, his eyes holding a barely constrained anger. He stepped closer, uncaring that he was crushing the fingers of the man that dared touched her..or that the sound of bones crunching made the man whimpered louder. He crouched down, his hand hanging on his knees nonchalantly. “You fucked up,” he whispered as he took in the disheveled state of the crying man. Softly, he touched the other man’s fingers. He smirked when he heard him cried louder.

“You didn’t only scare the child, but you touched a woman. My woman,” he stated as though he was merely discussing the weather.

“W-what? W-who are you? Are you her husband?” He asked as tears fell down from his eyes.

“Yes.”

Latibule VI

[turcott3]

off the table

charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, kissing and fluff! (this is not edited apologies for any mistakes)

positions fics masterlist

~but i just wanna know is love completely off the table?~

-

your eyes fluttered open as the sun filled the las vegas hotel room. you roll to face away from the window and you’re met by a familiar sleeping face. the relationship you and charles had created was special but complex. you weren’t together. you’re primary relationship is sex and nights out together but it never extended beyond that. occasionally you received a grand prix invite, las vegas being one of them. he messed with your feelings often. one second it seems like he wants you and the other he’s leaning on a bar counter talking to another woman. you just let it happen because you wanted him, even if it does hurt you not knowing.

“good morning char.” you say quietly as the brunette stretches out and looks at you.

“good morning amour.” he smiles before getting up out of bed. you wanted to reach out and grab for him but you didn’t wanna push your limits. you yearned for him. all you wanted was to be his and his only, but it was starting to feel like too much to ask for. every day you’ve spent together, a bubble of anxiety grew in your chest.

“what time do we need to leave?” you call out.

“we have a few more hours no worries.” he smiles walking back into the bedroom and climbing back into bed, quickly nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“how many is a few more?” you giggle, scratching his scalp lightly.

“like four or something.” he says, his breath on your neck was hot and sent goosebumps all over your body.

“i need to get a shower okay?” you say and he pulls away after pressing a short kiss to your neck.

“okay, ill be here.” he smirks laying back on his side, scrolling on instagram. you enter the bathroom, grateful for the escape you just made. he made your mind spin. when he cuddles to you and kisses you, yet doesn’t care to want you is the mode confusing experience you’ve had. you let the warm water soak your body as you stood in your thoughts, tears pricking your eyelids. eventually you lost the fight and let the sobs wrack your body. all you wanted was answers. tearfully, you finished the shower and dried off, staring at your puffy face in the mirror.

“am i just not good enough?” you whisper to yourself. you walk out into the bedroom to grab clothes from your suitcase, avoiding looking in charles’ direction.

“y/n?”

“i’ll be out in a second.” you say shutting the door behind you. quickly, you slip on your clothes and hang your damp towels.

“y/n?” he asks again as you walk out.

“what?” you say, eyes still red and face still puffy.

“come sit, what is wrong?”

“i don’t know.” you lie sitting down next to him, not wanting to possibly ruin this trip.

“yes you do. tell me.” he pushes clearly wanting an answer.

“you confuse me charles. you confuse me so much and you’ve made me catch undeniably strong feelings for you but you confuse the fuck out of me. one second i think you may want me and then the next you’re talking to another woman. i’m just confused on why you wanted me here.” you express as lightly as possible.

“i do have feelings for you. i truly do y/n, i don’t want you to think that i don’t.”

“then why don’t you want me charles?”

“i do i just- im just so busy and stressed with the season i don’t want to have more things to keep up with. not that you don’t deserve the absolute best, i just don’t think i can give you what you deserve.”

“well i’m here right now aren’t i? i’ll come to every race, every event, everything. i am here for you and you only. i don’t want to get in your way so im trying my best to stay out of the way and id say ive done pretty well.” you add, tears falling once more and he nods.

“is love just not something you’re looking for right now? tell me baby.” you say as he pulls you into his lap, wiping your tears.

“it is. i don’t know why ive been pushing you away. you’re too good to me and i feel like if i can’t be 100% here then it won’t work and you deserve 100%.”

“i’m willing to try, only for you.” you say and he kisses you on the cheek.

“mon amour. you’re incredible.”

“so does this mean?”

“yes, it means you’re my girlfriend, i’m not even gonna ask i’m declaring it now.” he giggles and hugs you closely to his chest.

“look at us, newest couple on the grid.” you laugh.

“and arguably the best, sorry everyone else.” he says placing a light hand on your lower back.

“definitely the best.”

-

“carlos, this is my girlfriend y/n. you’ve met before but i figured i should re-introduce with the proper title.” charles giggles at his teammate.

“hello y/n, it’s great to re-meet you.” he smiles sticking his hand out to you which you gladly shake.

“it’s great to re-meet you too.”

“alright well baby, we got to get to it so, ill see you in a bit alright?”

“alright, good luck out there char.”

“thank you.” he smiles kissing you sweetly on the lips before walking off with his teammate.

“i was waiting for this day to come.” one of the staff says nudging you.

“really?” you giggle.

“yes, last race you weren’t there and he was like ‘i wish y/n was here, she makes me calm.’”

“how sweet.” you smile at the woman before she follows behind them.

guess love was never off the table.

-

sorry this is so short😭

[damianbugs]

What you mean by" willis todds love for jason is the reason bruce failed him" ?

Sorry ive seen your post and I agree with everything but this just kinda suprise me, not hating, just curiuos

HELLO! so this is a take that is based on pre-new 52 todds, before they were simplified to the one dimensional (and classist) personalities they're known for now. neither of them were shown to be abusive or willfully negligent, but rather found themselves in bad situations out of their control and died, leaving jason to fend for himself.

in the most simplest way what i mean is willis todds self sacrificing actions of turning to crime in order to provide for jason and catherine is the key defining part of jasons life and why he views bruce's love for him as 'not enough'.

(of course, the actual proof of this is like. one single panel and its not even said by jason. however i think it is something that can be found in jasons character through other, less obvious situations.)

in jasons initial (public) return to gotham and that long and convoluted plan to mess around with batman psychology to get the two of them and the joker in the same place, it all seems like a well planned out revenge story until the final conversation:

Batman: Under the Red Hood

it always stood out to me, not just because of how absolutely heart wrenching the entire moment is (definitely read utrh if you haven't, at least once), but because it really gives you an insight into what love and loving someone means to jason.

to him it's an all encompassing responsibility. this idea that love is something that you need to be able to prove by the quantitive value of what you'll sacrifice for it. in this case, jason is saying i love you" in the way he truly believes gets across how much he means it; i would kill the person who hurt you.

whenever i read this part of utrh, another situation immediately pops into my mind. and that's when jason found out two-face had killed willis todd.

Batman #411

upon finding out two-face had killed willis, jason goes on a brief grief filled rampage, swearing he'll kill him for what he did. it's important to note that up until now, jason had assumed willis was still in prison, only to find out he was actually murdered.

again, it's this idea that love is the extremes you'll go to for family. jason was well aware of willis' less than legal means to make money, and even bruce makes a mention of it in.

Batman: A death in the family

i imagine, like a lot of what fuels jason to fight crime now, guilt is a major deciding factor in a lot of his choices. it's this guilt that he feels upon hearing about willis' death that makes him take it out on two-face. it's even guilt that plays a huge factor even in new 52 stories (such as Cheer).

so when he returns to gotham, or even before that, just hearing about what bruce had done following his death (locking the joker up instead of killing him, taking in tim as his robin) were, to him, clear evidence that he did not love jason in any way that mattered. that bruce did not love jason as much as jason loved him.

because loving him means giving up your morals. loving him means sacrificing your health and your time and your safety.

but bruce didn't do any of that in a way jason could see.

i imagine to someone like jason, who lost every parental figure in some capacity, whether it be to illness or crime or something else entirely, the evident disregard for him was as painful as any rejection could have been.

a lot of how jason feels and acts can be seen in much more interesting ways if we all look at him for he is; an unreliable narrator. he is missing huge chunks of story, especially when it comes to bruce, and has no choice but to act irrationally on the little truth he does know.

of course we the readers, and some other characters, know just how hard jasons death was for bruce. how destructively he mourned for his son.

but again, the surface level proof of it is not enough for jason, who's entire life has been love through sacrifice. but now, it's a sacrifice bruce can not ever give him.

Batman: Under the Red Hood

[barrenclan]

I've been thinking of this for so long and have only now mustered up the courage to send an ask here. The Nowhere Kings lullaby is so very Deepdark coded.

Thank you for sending in an ask! I always like receiving them.

I agree very much with you, so much that Nowhere King has been on the PATFW playlist for awhile now! Here is a link to it if you'd like to listen.

I like your analysis on it!

Oh, yeah, I can absolutely see this Rainhaze at the very end of his line, twisted by Defiance, and the last lines of the song about him singing to Slugpelt wondering if even she would take him back after everything he's done.

it goes on for so long and it takes so much goddamn shit and benzos to make the skin grow thick and to make the heart grow cold to make your heart grow cold

cover your ears Emily your weakened mind fears nothing i want to know if you'll still care for me if I left you to decay

emily will you bury me the purest sin that ive ever seen emily will you still love me

I like this version! Very mournful. I can see Defiance in it, with more specific Rainhaze bits mixed in.

In the land of Gods and Monsters I was an angel living in the garden of evil Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed Shining like a fiery beacon

"This is Heaven, what I truly want" It's innocence lost Innocence lost

I think I'd put it as a song sung by Pinepaw about Nightberry.

The old man next door says his house is haunted He says a ghost keeps him awake I think he's having a hard time, to be honest Since his darling passed away

I said Robert I'm so sorry Your house ain't haunted You're just not used to bein' alone

Every song is about Rainhaze.

I love this song! Actually, one of the main characters' theme songs - "Twelve Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming To the Canyon)" for Egrettail - is by the Mamas and the Papas, so nice choice. Fits well with Blacknose.

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown) And the sky is gray (and the sky is gray) I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk) On a winter's day (on a winter's day) If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her) I could leave today (I could leave today)

You know the preacher like the cold (preacher like the cold) He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)

All Fleetwood Mac songs fit with Slugpelt, this is true. Of course I would always love to see an animation of my characters, but the song choice is very good regardless! I like the descriptions of Slugpelt as a "pale shadow of a woman", it fits her chracter very well.

Well, did she make you cry Make you break down Shatter your illusions of love? <- Dustfeather And is it over now, do you know how? Pick up the pieces and go home

Pale shadow of a woman Black widow Pale shadow of a dragon Dust woman

I was very fond of this song when the game first came out, especially a cover that sadly doesn't seem to be on YouTube anymore. Oh well, it still fits Pinepaw perfectly.

Stuck on this dead end street Where all the new kids come to play Stuck–where past and future meet Watching all our autumns drift away

And if they ever hear my name Will they know I walked alone Around these dusty streets–My Tired old home

And will they ever stop to think What was here before, no They won’t remember that I’m gone

[sayafics]

Dance of Shadows - Chapter IV

Sorry this took so long to update, I spent a lot of time figuring out the timeline and how the story would work with the scenes I wanted to add.

I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This is a really long chapter which hopefully makes up for the long wait!

Expect a lot more Saenyra&Daemon moments in the next chapter! This chapter was a mix between adding more depth to their relationship, as well as building one between Saenyra and other characters <3

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra's heart ached endlessly when the news of Daemon's exile had reached her - she had expected it, of course. But the weight of her mother's death and now the absence of her uncle had become too much to bear.

Her mind fell back to her incidental meetings with the Lord Hand, and of how his words had turned kind despite his cold eyes, since her mother had passed. She understood why the man would be sympathetic to such a thing, having lost his wife to the same burdens of labour as she had lost her mother.

There was a quiet kinship there, a moment of solidarity and understanding.

Perhaps that was why he had come to her chambers today, knocking upon her door and entering with a sullen expression as she beckoned him forth.

Behind his slender form stood the broad figure of Ser Harwin Strong - she had only thought it fair to seek a Shield of her own if Rhaenyra were able to have one. Especially one as pretty as Ser Cole.

Ser Harwin nodded his head in greeting, waiting for her instructions as he stood at attention by her door. She waved the man away, rolling her eyes at his constant worrying.

Saenyra focused on Otto - the Lord Hand looked pale and stricken, eyes unfocused as he tried to string together his words.

The truth was, Otto felt nothing like the image he portrayed to the young girl, but he hoped such a performance would make her grow to trust him.

Those who were unable to see the infatuation the Targaryen girls held for their uncle were truly blind. And Otto would be a fool not to use such a bond to his advantage.

Daemon Targaryen was a dangerous man.

With all the roles within the Keep he had taken, none had sung to him more than the tireless echoes of a title so buoyant and inflamed - the Rogue Prince.

And if Otto wanted Saenyra on his side, then the only way to assure such an alliance was to remove the only person who could change her perspective.

Perhaps this method of madness was mean and trifling, but it would work. It had to.

Otto remembers the look of anguish on Rhaenyra's face when she had heard the news, when she demanded dragons be sent to threaten the man and return what was rightfully their's. He only wished Saenyra would show a reaction so similar.

"Lord Hightower, is everything alright?" Saenyra frowned softly at the man, eyes watching him with concern.

He sighed deeply, "my Princess, I am afraid I come bearing bad news."

Though her stomach sank with dread, her heart beating frantically at all the possibilities and all the horrors that could have occurred, Saenyra steeled her spine and spoke encouragingly, "you can speak freely here."

Again, Otto found his heart tremble with softness at the young girl's kindness. Here, he could not see a shadow of a dragon in sight, simply a girl who had been placed in the nest of animals and beasts.

"It is your uncle, dear child."

Saenyra frowned in earnest now, the mere mention of her uncle bringing back the flashes of the beautiful woman who pressed herself against him as though she were laying her claim. She blinked furiously, scolding herself for such envious feelings - even if that woman had not been there, it did not change the truth that Daemon was still a married man.

Daemon had not cheated her - he had cheated his wife and himself.

"What about my uncle?"

Otto lowered his head in a show of misery, "it seems he has dared to steal the egg of Baelon."

"Why would he do such a thing?" Saenyra's lips had parted in surprise, caught off guard by her uncle's audaciousness with such an act of defiance.

"We are unsure of his motives for the time being," the lie slipped off his tongue with ease. Otto was willing to do all he could to make the girl hate Daemon, but he could not risk her acting out of turn. "But we intend to claim the egg and return it to the Keep - the ships are setting sail soon, and an army rests upon it. Ready to reclaim the egg and Dragonstone by force, if needed."

"I want to come."

Otto sighed softly, not willing to disappoint the girl but knowing he will have to. He could see the anger bubbling in her eyes, but he could also see the confusion etched in her expression.

"Your sister asked us of the very same. I fear you cannot join a feat such as this - it is far too dangerous."

"Perhaps he would listen to me."

"We can only hope, Princess," Otto smiled faintly at her determination, "but it is a risk we cannot take."

Saenyra's hope faltered, hands twisting into the soft material of her gown as she bit her lip to hold back spiteful words.

Otto took a step back, gaining her attention.

"The ships leave soon, so I must take my leave. I simply believed it was important to inform you of our plans, despite the King's disagreement on the matter."

Otto watched as the girl's eyes narrowed in disappointment - had it not been for Otto's visit to her chambers, she would have been kept in the dark on the actions of her uncle.

Her father and her sister would hide such tragic news from her without a guilty conscious.

She glanced at Otto once more as he took his leave, and he smirked at the glimmer in her eyes that shone like something akin to trust.

***

It had not only been trust that gleamed in her lavender hues, but determination.

Her father and sister thought of her as weak, of being spineless and thoughtless. But she would show them. She would show them her determination, her influence, her fire.

Dragonstone was not simply a base Daemon had chosen for its view, no - its caves and tunnels homed the largest dragons - wild and crazed.

Upon the small isle was an opportunity for something more.

***

Saenyra had changed into a set of leathers she had stuffed deep in her wardrobe - they had been a gift from a Lord in a far away land who thought her to be a dragon-rider like her sister. A stark contrast from her usual soft colours, but one she hoped she could grow used to.

Her lip quirked at the idea of riding her dragon in her billowing gowns, and she whispered a promise to herself she would try.

Her heart had always weeped with disappointment at the sight of the leathers, but she never had the heart to get rid of it. It seemed all her waiting had paid off - today, she would get a dragon.

When she had changed into her leathers, she spared a moment to glance upon the jewel resting on her hand. A hesitant smile twisted upon her lips as a speck of dread bloomed.

What would Daemon think of her when he learned she had travelled to the isle to claim a dragon? Would he think differently of her? Would he be proud? Disappointed?

She tiptoed to her chamber doors as quietly as she could, ignoring her nattering thoughts. She latched it shut, hoping Harwin would leave her to her peace and not attempt entry.

Shs slipped back to the portrait above her bed, prying it open with silent breaths before slipping into the tunnels behind. She sprinted her way down tunnels she memorised a thousand times over, finding her way to an exit.

The day was bright and early, and the Keep was buzzing. But no one would expect to see Saenyra of all people in riding gear, as she had no dragon to command.

She slipped through the sea of people with ease, making her way to the ships as she dodged the sight of curious soldiers.

Saenyra knew Otto and the Kingsguard would board the ship at the forefront, so she slinked her way onto one of the smaller ships instead.

She let out a sigh of relief to see it unoccupied for the time being, rushing below the deck to hide in the shadows behind barrels and netting.

She would stay here until they reached Dragonstone.

***

The sail to Dragonstone had been bumpy, her stomach rolling with nausea as she steadied her breaths and pretended she was at home rather than upon the sea.

She swallowed harshly, thirst clawing at her throat as she wondered how much longer it would be.

It seemed only seconds, as her head raised in surprise at the shouts that carried over the ship. They drew closer to Dragonstone now, and she could hear the men prepare to anchor the ships before they continued on foot.

Just a few moments longer.

***

Saenyra had waited until the ships had emptied and the air had struck silent. Her stomach protested as she pushed herself to her feet and her knees ached. Her throat still burned with thirst and she could feel the clawing stabs of hunger pleading with her.

Still, she knew coming by boat was better than the alternative.

She was sure Rhaenyra would find her way here, but Saenyra would be damned if she asked the girl to allow her to ride upon Syrax alongside her.

Saenyra did not want the first dragon she rode to be one that was not her own - she did not want such an experience to be tainted by the hatred and jealousy that soured her relationship to her sister.

As she hiked her way towards where she hoped she would find the entrance to the caves and tunnels, her mind fell back to the dragon she hoped to claim.

Saenyra did not want a dragon that had previously been claimed. She wanted a dragon wild and free. Just as she was.

She wanted a dragon to whom she could love and dote on, to teach not with violence but patience. She wanted a dragon that was a reflection of herself, one that would burn worlds if she asked.

When she had finally reached the mouth of the cave she was panting lightly, her eyes wide with wonder as a breathless laugh escaped her. She sprinted inside, struggling to keep her footfalls quiet so as not to fall prey to any other beast that lurked within.

She spun through the tunnels, twisting and turning but failing to find the dragon she had so desperately tried to seek.

Grey Ghost was a shy dragon, calm and quiet, preferring to spin through the skies and feast in the seas. Hidden away in plain sight much like she was.

Grey Ghost is a dragon Saenyra believed she would bond well with, love strongly and protect fiercely as he would do with her. But Grey Ghost was nowhere to be found.

Her hope of claiming a dragon began to crumble as the tunnels were silent. It seemed the only life within them was her own, and she could feel defeat sink into her bones.

Saenyra sat down in a huff, eyes closed as she rested her head against the rough and craggly surface behind her.

She didn't pay mind to how long she sat like that, thinking - dreaming, hoping.

She only hoped that Harwin had not noticed her absence. Prayed that if he had, he did not report it to the King.

She doubted Viserys would care for such a thing - perhaps he would be relieved he had one less heir to worry about. Rhaenyra and Daemon were already such a handful.

However, for all she knew, the moment her deception was brought to light, a whole new shadow of chaos would be wrought upon them - one, perhaps, even Daemon could not escape.

She was still a Princess. Even if Viserys did not hold any personal regards for the girl, he would have to act in show, lest people see him as weak.

Still, she stayed. She sat upon the solid ground and listened to the sounds of her own breaths, counting every inhale and exhale and wishing she did not have to return to the Keep - knowing when she did, she could never escape the walls that confined her.

Slowly, she began drifting off. She leaned into the comforting smell of a home she would never find - a dragon she could never have.

That was when she felt it.

So lost in the tumultuous thoughts roving through her mind, she hadn't heard the gruff breaths, hadn't felt the quaking thuds. But a rough and scaly surface brushed against her cheek, slowly as though it was almost curious.

It was then she smelt it, the stench of dragon strong and high - the cloying scent of smoke coated her tongue as the brushes became firmer. She allowed herself to hope that perhaps it was Grey Ghost. That although she couldn't find him, he found her and it was a sign.

A sign that she was meant to be a dragon-rider. That the fire of a dragon burned hot through her veins - a raging blaze instead of a waning fire.

But her hesitant eyes found the predatory gaze of a dragon so monsterous it ate its own kind. So close to her, a hair's breadth away, was the slow and steady gaze of a cantankerous beast - Cannibal.

He was an inky shade of black, scales so dark that he could meld into the night sky and would cast envy from the moon, escaping its sight.

The beast reared back, but still stayed so close. Too close.

Saenyra wanted to close her eyes, to resign herself to her fate.

She was no dragon-rider, especially not to a beast so ferocious and violent. She didn't have the strength to make him submit- didn't have the gall.

But there was a subtle glint in Cannibal's eye that made her think wreaking havoc and killing her was not on his agenda.

He inched closer, almost like he was asking a silent question.

Saenyra raised a hand, fingers trembling as she took a steadying breath - the fire of a dragon ran through her veins, the ice of a thousand winters cursed her soul.

She held her breath as the tips of her fingers brushed against Cannibal's face, so close to the edge of his mouth he could break off her arm with a single twitch.

Instead he shuddered, preening as she shuffled closer and began to sit.

Surprise bound through her body, elation colouring her features - had she tamed a dragon?

Had she claimed a bond?

There was no need to violence, no yell for obedience, no fighting and no blood. There was no sacrifice because what was meant for her had come to find her.

Saenyra's eyes welled with tears, a shaky laugh escaping her as it grew louder and steady.

Saenyra had come looking in the depths of darkness for a dragon that lived in the light, hidden amongst clouds and thriving across the seas.

But that was not the fate the Seven had assigned to her. That was not the dragon she needed.

Her dragon, her fate had come to her. Undeterred and knowing.

Her dragon had come to seek her because finally, the time was right.

Her dragon - so fierce and raging and monsterous. The fire she had been missing all her life.

***

Daemon watched Rhaenyra in amusement, barely able to hold back the smirk upon his face at the pathetic attempt to pull him into line.

Had she truly thought she could command him? Call to him?

Had she truly thought he would be soft with her? Kind and adhering?

"I'm right here, Uncle. The object of your ire - the reason you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir, you'll need to kill me. So do it."

Daemon could commend the girl's bravery, perhaps even her stupidity. It was a tempting thought, truly - to end all this fuss and take her head in one quick swipe.

But he was fond of the girl, despite her growing infatuations. She was his niece - his brother's child. And to hurt her would be to hurt Viserys.

"Do not bother with such words, Rhaenyra. It will gain you no favours. You would sooner leave Dragonstone empty-handed than with my undying fidelity."

Daemon couldn't help the smirk that broke across his face as her expression fell - she had been so sure presenting herself to him, a prize upon a platter, would have made him succumb and relinquish the egg.

She was sure he would give up to her. For her.

"Uncle, you do not know what you are saying. This isn't what you want. She isn't who you want."

The words she spoke were true. But not in the way she had hoped.

"Perhaps if little Saena were here, I would be happy to continue this farce for a few moments longer," he grinned at the envious expression that crossed Rhaenyra's face, "it is a pity she is not. I believe she would have enjoyed Dragonstone."

"The Princess is safe at the Keep," Otto began, his words stern as he met Daemon's glare with one just as fierce, "where you shall be unable to find her."

Daemon gritted his teeth at the show of audaciousness, but before he could speak, a set of stumbling footfalls and a shouting voice drew their attention.

"The Princess! She is in Dragonstone!"

A handful of soldiers assigned to watch over their ships had raced up to the base, panting as they waved frantically for Otto's attention.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, "yes. Well, if you could not tell, I came by dragon-back. Such fan-fare is quite uneeded."

She turned back to Daemon, ready to push and prod, but the voice continued in panicked insistence.

"No! The Princess is upon the isle. She entered the tunnels before my men could stop her. We followed her in, but we fear she is lost within them."

Daemon's expression of amusement fell, his heart sinking as his stomach twisted. Tumultuous waves of rage washed over him at the realisation of who they spoke of.

Saenyra.

Saenyra was in Dragonstone. And she was lost in the tunnels, surrounded by wild dragons.

He seethed and frothed at the mouth, trembling in anger as he pulled out his sword and raised it against Otto's throat - "you told me she was at the Keep. You told me she was safe!"

Otto's own eyes had widened in surprise, shock flooding his system at the realisation the Princess must have snuck onto a ship to reach Dragonstone.

But why had she gone into the tunnels instead of following them to Daemon?

Otto stumbled over his words, almost speechless at the turn of events. It was Rhaenyra who spoke in his stead, "lower your sword, Uncle. What my sister does out of her own stupidity is no one's fault but her own."

Daemon ground his teeth in frustration, lowering his sword from Otto's throat only to throw a dangerous glare at Rhaenyra instead - "your sister is lost within the tunnels where dragons feed upon everything with a heartbeat, and you stand here and mock her? You are heartless."

Rhaenyra's face fell, her own heart now stammering with fear as she realised there was a truth to Daemon's words. She had lost her mother such a short time ago, could she truly lose her sister now, too?

"If she is hurt- if she is scared, I will kill you all. I will slaughter you all, and I will show Viserys the truth of my brutality. If there is so much as a scratch up-"

His words came to an abrupt end, halting mid-sentence at the sound of a victorious cry.

Daemon watched in fascination as a black mass emerged from the lip of a cave, climbing high into the sky as it unleashed a violent burst of green flames into the sunlit sky.

He could hear gleeful shrieks and melodic laughter from where he stood, and he could feel the ground shake as a monsterous beast rumbled from its place confined deep within the tunnels.

The violent beast flew overhead, murmurs spreading across as they all watched in fascination as the dragonless princess rode upon the most horrid beast of all and laughed.

There was a softness there, still present despite the beast she rode. One that sounded in her voice and in her laughter. One that sang in her eyes as they crinkled with joy.

Saenyra had conquered a dragon, but she had not lost herself in doing so.

Cannibal circled over Daemon and his army, and Daemon watched in amusement as Otto and his men backed up as far as they could.

Cannibal landed with a quiet thud, his rider grinning with excitement and pride exuding off of her in pretty waves. She slid from his back, scratching his neck as she murmured praises to the beast.

Daemon watched the scene unfold with soft eyes, his heart swelling with pride as he watched Saenyra fret over a vicious beast who submitted to her freely and with ease.

He took a step forward, uncaring of the watchful eyes and bated breaths of those around him.

Saenyra caught his gaze, a gasping laugh sounding from her lips as she moved to meet him halfway. But a glance over his shoulder had her stumbling to a stop.

Daemon knew who she had seen and couldn't stop the guilt that stung his throat and left a bitter taste.

"Rijes aōt, zaldrītsos (congratulations, little dragon)."

Daemon's words were gentle but hesitant. Saenyra could not find it within herself to meet his gaze.

She took a steadying breath, eyes passing over him with great difficulty as she sought the calming gaze of the Lord Hand instead.

Otto nodded to the girl as she eyed him in quiet despair - "Prince Daemon," he began, so quietly Daemon prayed Saenyra could not hear him, "has stolen the dragon egg as a gift to his heir."

Saenyra's eyes flitted back to Daemon as they welled with a betrayal she had no right to feel. And yet, from Daemon's worried gaze and guilty heart, she could not help but feel that perhaps it was not all in her mind, after all.

"His whore, Mysaria is with child. And Daemon is to take her as a second wife."

As Otto concluded his words, he could see how the girl's shoulders tensed and her spine stiffened - he hadn't expected to unveil the truth to her, but as she stared at her uncle with poorly hidden anger he found that it was probably the smartest move he had made.

Saenyra couldn't help but glance at her sister and see how her shoulders had deflated with defeat and how Rhaenyra could not meet her gaze.

Despite everything she had heard, despite the tears that pooled in her eyes and despite the hopes she had hidden deep within her heart that had caved and crumbled, she stepped forward. She closed the gap between Daemon and herself with a stifling sense of formality.

Saenyra stood before him in the image of a poised princess, a stiff smile upon her face as she searched his eyes for something.

They glinted and gleamed and grew dark under her stare, as though he was trying to force every word he could not say aloud into her mind.

"Tepagon se zaldrīzes drōmon, kepus. Let us be done with this. (Give the dragon egg, uncle)."

"Daor (no)."

His voice was quiet - his eyes pleading.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, her mind knowing what it was he wanted - what he needed. But her heart was too fragile to concede.

"Ivestragon nyke skoros nyke jorrāelagon naejot rȳbagon (tell me what I need to hear)."

Daemon did not care if Rhaenyra heard him, did not care if the others understood.

He would be exiled, unable to see Saenyra anymore. He knew although he could succeed in this battle, the game of politics that would follow would not work in his favour.

Too many men had sworn their allegiance to Viserys, and now his newest heir - Rhaenyra.

She gave him a strained smile in return, "I cannot upset your wife."

"Ōdrikagon zirȳla mirre ao hae, issa daorun naejot nyke (hurt her all you like, she is nothing to me)."

"And what about me?"

"Brōzagon naejot nyke (call to me)."

Such words were a promise in themselves, a claim if one wished it to be. And from the glimmering darkness in Daemon's eyes, singing with desperation and anger and a plea for understanding, Saenyra let herself reluctantly hope it was.

"Kepus, give me Baelon's egg."

"Kostilus (please)."

"Daemon."

The name came out in a quiet rush, a hushed confession.

His breath caught in his throat, a raging heat battling through his body as his heart trembled and his body singed with relief.

"Daemon," she whispered again, looking into his eyes so pleadingly, "give it to me, Daemon. Prove it to me."

Daemon was ready to kneel for her should she ask it of him. He handed the egg over readily, the fight leaving his body with the same rolling ease his name dripped off her tongue in such erotic rivulets.

As she reached out to take the egg from his grasp, he allowed his fingers to trail over her trembling hands. He rubbed his thumb over the ring she still wore, despite his misgivings, despite his harshness and despite his exile.

She wore this piece of him with pride and adoration. Such a sight made his heart sting with grief, knowing he would have to leave her behind. Knowing he had done nothing but made everything worse.

It had been amusing, yes. It had been a show of power, a show of all the cards he held. But now he knew it was almost over - the Gold Cloaks would retreat and return to King's Landing, and he would be exiled. Never to return, if Otto had it his way.

Saenyra stepped away from him, pulling her hands back as his own fell to his sides.

He sighed as though he was amused and steps closer, hand reaching for her chin as he tilted her head up to meet his warring gaze. He smiles, so gentle and so soft and so kind.

Daemon closes his eyes, placing a soft kiss upon her head and breathing in the scent of her - he would be exiled in truth now, unable to return for years if it was what his brother wished. He would only have this memory of his lips against her skin, his nose buried in the scent of her hair, his hands digging into her soft flesh.

He murmured a promise against her, his voice hushed so no one else could hear - "Nyke kessa māzigon arlī. Kesan māzigon arlī naejot ao. Se pār, kesi kipagon īlva zaldrīzoti naejot ūndegon qilōni's iksis se sȳrje. (I shall come back. I will come back to you. And then, we will ride our dragons to see who's is the best)."

Her eyes fluttered closed at his claim, "kivio? (Promise?)"

"Kivio."

She stepped back from the man, her eyes meeting his in silent mourning. She held the egg close to her chest as she made her way back to her dragon and mounted him, lips pursed as she tried to hold back her tears at the realisation she would likely never see Daemon again.

***

Saenyra returned to the Keep upon dragon-back, soaring the sky with a mourning sense of enjoyment. Perhaps she would not see Daemon again, but her ventures had gained her a dragon.

And such a gift was not one she would be ungrateful for.

Still, she was inexperienced upon dragon-back. Though her beast was adept and gifted with a masterful skill at flight, she had never soared the skies upon a dragon, let alone one so large.

It did not take long for Rhaenyra to catch up to her savage dragon, and it took even less time for her to soar past them and glare down at her with contempt flooding her gaze.

Saenyra grew worried as she drew closer to the Keep - the sky had darkened as a clouded mist settled low on to the soil. She grew anxious as she landed Cannibal on the grounds, eyes flitting across the planes in search of the Lords and Ladies, maids and knights that haunted the Keep, only to see it bare of life.

Cannibal flew off at her beckoning, never one to be tied down to a place so small but ready to find her if she were to call.

She entered the walls of the Keep, the corridors silent as she tiptoed to her room. She slipped into the closest tunnel she could find, her footsteps rushed as she made her way to her chambers.

She knew the secret of her travels would be revealed with Otto's return. Until then, she would take advantage of what she hoped to be Harwin's discretion and the King's ignorance and take a well-deserved rest.

***

It was not long until a flurry of frantic knocks sounded against her chamber doors - she sat up in a hurry, the sheets slipping off of her as all she remained in was the sheer material of her nightdress.

Saenyra stumbled out of her bed, reaching for the latch only to be faced by Alicent.

The girl looked worried, her eyes full of sadness as she frowned at Saenyra softly.

"The King is asking for your attendance at the Counsel, this evening."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "Father has never asked for my presence at his meetings. Did something happen?"

Had Daemon acted out of turn once again? Had he returned to the Keep despite his exile? Has her father truly grown so angry by her travels outside the Keep?

She was unsure, and unwilling to seek answers to such questions.

"You must come at once, Princess. I fear I am not at liberty to answer your queries."

Saenyra nodded in ascent, understanding Alicent coming to retrieve her may have been a leniency on behalf of her father as well as a well-devised ploy.

She turned back to grab a dressing robe, wrapping it tightly over her bodice as she nodded for Alicent to lead the way. Alicent conceded with one last hesitant glance at the girl.

When they had reached the hall where her father held his Counsel meetings, the doors parted to reveal a truly formidable sight.

Upon his seat, though weakened by his ailings, Viserys was seething - frothing at the mouth as a well-groomed Lord stood beside him with a predatory grin.

It had taken Saenyra only a glance at Rhaenyra's proud face and Otto's sorrowful expression to learn what truth came to light.

Her lips parted, an apology sitting upon the tip of her tongue before her father's brash voice cut off her musings - "here we have her," a dragon's rage pooled in his veins, "my youngest daughter."

"Father..."

She was unsure of what she could have said - the placative words she could have spoken. But Viserys paid her no mind.

"Princess Saenyra is to be your wife, Lord Byrch." Viserys' eyes met his daughters, sharp and unforgiving as he recalled the conversations Rhaenyra whispered in his ears that took place between his youngest daughter and his devious brother - "you are to wed and take my daughter to your lands where she will swell with your children and make me a happy grandsire."

Her eyes burned as his words echoed in her mind, heart sinking in betrayal as she glanced towards Rhaenyra who spoke with a smug tone, "congratulations, dear sister."

Saenyra could hear no more talk of the betrayal that had just taken place, could no longer restrain her cries or hold back her tears.

As the Lord Byrch stepped closer to his awaiting bride, the girl stumbled back as she fled from the room in a flood of emotions.

Viserys' boisterous laughs could be heard echoing through the Keep, "she is but a shy girl, Byrch. Take no offence, you shall get your bride. That I promise."

***

Saenyra did not leave her chamber for several days - taking to dining within the walls of her room where she was safe and away from her traitorous sister and looming husband-to-be.

In those days, it was only Otto whom she allowed to seek her audience; even Harwin, now her Shield and Commander of the Gold Cloaks, barely caught a glimpse of the girl when he would assign his men to keep watch over her.

The man would whisper his disapprovals of the King's decision, acting wary of listening ears and speaking in hushed anger. He would weave tales of her bethrothed's violent nature and greedy hands, of his narrow mind and stubborn heart.

He had laughed as he suggested that the death of her betrothed may be her only saving grace - as though such a proposition was preposterous and only made in jest.

Otto had ingrained upon her an expectation for a horrid future - unloved and hurt and bred like an animal.

That was the life Viserys had chosen for her, and such a realisation wrought her soul with anger and agony. She had known Rhaenyra was the favourite, but to cast Saenyra aside in such a manner made her feel truly unworthy in his eyes.

Perhaps this was why - angered by her father's aversion and terrified by Otto's quiet truths - she had found herself in such a position.

Otto had encouraged the girl to escape the confines of her room, to walk along the corridors of the Keep and, at the very least, find enjoyment in the activities she used to before.

She had agreed, reluctantly. And that very night, she left her rooms through the tunnel, unwilling to be trailed by soldiers that belonged to both Harwin and Daemon.

She found herself in the library, fingers skimming across the spine of large tomes and story books. Her touch was light and airy, her mind quiet in the comfort of the night sky.

But the sound of footfalls drawing closer had her grow keenly wary of her surroundings.

She turned in anticipation, hand falling to her side as she came face-to-face with the man she had been avoiding all this time.

Oh, how the needy and desperate whispers of her mind grew louder wishing it was Daemon she saw.

Instead, in front of her stood the slim and staggering figure of Lord Byrch. There was a grim smirk upon his lips, his voice hushed as he whispered, "my little bride. Oh, how I have been searching for you in all the crevices in the Keep."

She smiled stiffly, "my Lord."

She stepped back, nodding to be polite as she searched for a way around the man and to the door.

There was no escape.

He stepped closer, hands clamping around her waist as he pulled her towards him - so close she could smell the scent of strong ale permeating from his lips.

The man was shameless and crude, stuffing his face into the hollow of her throat as he took deep breaths and groaned roughly at her sweet scent.

Her hands came to push against his shoulders, but the man did not relent. He stumbled forward so he could press her against a table and lave at the delicate skin of her neck.

He hummed at the taste of her, groaning in her ear in a fervent breath - "I cannot wait to make you my bride and fuck you. I cannot wait to fill you with my children and make sure you never leave my bed without my cum dripping from that sweet cunt of your's."

She cried out in disgust, her hands reaching back to brace herself against the table as he grew hurried and frantic. He began to pull up the fabric of her dress, her heart sinking in dread as her eyes stung with tears.

Her hands reached for something, grasping at anything she could use to scare this monster away.

Her fingers wrapped around a thin and delicate item, and it only took a glance back to see the silver sheen of a letter opener held tight in her grasp.

It was at the sight of such a lacklustre weapon hope began to bubble in the pit of her stomach as her breath was stolen from her in preparation of such a feat - an opportunity.

Her heart sung with rage as a guttural cry escaped her, and the weapon in her hand found its place in his shoulder. The foul beast of a man reared back, and as he cried out in agony, she could hear a fierce cry shatter through the quiet of the night as though it shared in her pain and agony - Cannibal.

At the sound of his angered roars, she felt the dragon within her come to life, a disastrous blaze flooding through her as rage took over fear.

Saenyra was angry.

So angry.

Angry at Daemon. At her sister. At her father. And this pathetic excuse of a man who thought himself worthy of marrying her. Of touching her.

With a battle cry, she ripped the blade from his flesh, throwing herself at him and knocking him to the ground as her body moved with a mind of its own. She wailed upon the man as her screams gave way to mourning cries and the aches of a thousand days washed upon her and all the agony she felt, all the grief, was poured into a deserving beast.

Hands wrapped around her body, her dress tainted red as blood seeped deep into her clothes and burned her skin with feral delight. She fought against the touch, reaching forward after her prey as her mind went mad with hunger.

The arms only held her tighter, wrenching the blade from her grasp and casting it aside as they turned her towards a solid chest and hushed quietly in her ears.

Her breaths came back to her in quiet huffs, her racing heart settled as it was finally quiet once again.

"Princess," Saenyra stiffened at the voice, eyes glancing up to meet the determined gaze of the Shield she had escaped for far too long.

Harwin met her gaze, determination giving way to a kind softness as he frowned softly at the blood splattered against the girl's face. His hands reached up to her face, rubbing against the wet liquid and smearing it across her cheeks, making her seem like a blushing bride who awaited eagerly for her husband's embrace.

But Lord Byrch was dead.

His body mutilated, his face unrecognisable.

Harwin felt his own heart race in anger at the thought that the Princess would have been hurt whilst under his charge, his protection.

He gritted his teeth as he strained his mind for a plan - "I accompanied you to the library," he began, his voice lowered and his words fast as his eyes darted towards the door, hoping it would be his Gold Cloaks who arrived first and not the Kingsguards.

"Then Lord Byrch came and asked for a listening ear - which you granted him. He spoke of treasonous plans after your wedding, and when you refused, he grew mad. So I killed him."

She eyed the soldier in fascination, wondering why he would lie on her behalf about a deed so grave.

"I killed him. Did you hear me, Princess?"

She held her breath as she nodded, confusion still clouding her eyes.

"Repeat it back to me."

She began in a whisper, hands tightening around his arms as she continued, "you killed him. You killed him because he planned to act against my father. He was going to hurt me, so you killed him."

"Good. Good, you're doing so well. Leave this to me, I shall handle this."

"Harwin," her voice shook as she protested such a thing, tears tracking down her face as her hands trembled at the realisation of what she had done.

Saenyra had killed a Lord. She had murdered her intended husband.

But he had deserved it.

Still, she had taken a life.

"I am your sworn Shield. When I took such a position, I vowed to protect you with every inch of life I have within me. Allow me to do my duty, Princess. Allow me to protect you."

Saenyra threw her arms around his neck, heaving sobs against him as he held her tight and turned her away from the gruesome scene she had created.

Otto had found them in such a position only moments later, eyes growing dark with understanding as he realised what must have occured.

It was safe to say Harwin escaped with such a deed unpunished, and Saenyra grew to trust her Shield just as she grew to trust Otto.

Her heart grew discontent to sit with her sister and listen to her father's demands, but even her disheartened feelings towards them would not stop the fact her father sought another husband for the girl to wed.

Saenyra could only hope he failed in such a mission of his.

Saenyra could only hope Daemon would return before Viserys succeeded in his ventures, and Rhaenyra celebrated her departure.

Thank you to everyone who enaged with this series, I cannot wait to write more chapters!!

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta @pet1t3 @serving-targaryen-realness @tojigirl @do-it-for-kicks @aprosiacperson @moongirl27 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @bogbutteronmycroissant

[goomyloid]

PLEASE explain your thoughts on kriselle in full detail

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS 100% UNPROMPTED ASK! I SHALL EXPLAIN

i hate toby fox. why did he do this to us. he really put it better than anyone else. not really romantic not really platonic but…. something else… some secret more sinister more heartfelt more absurd third thing

i wonder at what point should i clarify that i dont even really seek out kriselle in a romantic context… DONT GET ME WRONG i have zero issues with the ship whatsoever and all of the krisellers out there are living their best (most painful) lives and i SEE THE APPEAL. BUT when i rotate them in my brain i dont need them to kiss or anything like that i just need them to sit down and sadly hold hands and stay like that forever and ever. in case you couldnt gauge that from my art so far

tldr i dont think i ship them in the traditional sense at least …. the things that i usually fixate on for any romantic ship are not there with these two. there are no romantic feelings there In my mind. and all at the same time i start screaming and throwing up and killing myself (all positive) whenever i see them even in the same image together. hngh

ive tried explaining this to people before and they usually suggest something along the lines of a QPR and even that doesnt feel right to me. truly the best way i can put it is… that red string of fate man… which i almost hesitate on saying too because i dont actually know if noelle is Quite an important enough character to the story to warrant a connection like that. WHICH IS A CRAZY THING TO SAY. I KNOW. DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING ME WRONG i think dess and her connections to gaster and her usage as a stepping stone into the weird route are all VERY important… but in my brain its just not kris/knight/asriel/every other mysterious main focus of the story Important. i didnt mean to get into deltarune theorizing here i hope nobody’s blood is boiling rn

so yeah in the end. toby fox once again put it best. they are friends, but they are also something else.

back to the actual pairing though… sometimes i think im going overboard and overestimating how close kris and noelle were as children because noelle will go and say things like “i wonder if we were ever really friends at all.” which is kind of a fair statement considering the circumstances. sure they played together and all and tagged along with their siblings to do stuff together but when dess went missing… it all kind of stopped. kris is just a kid, they dont know what to do or even how to process it, much like noelle. asriel is probably dealing with his own feelings, he just lost his friend and likely old enough to understand the weight of what happened. while noelle and kris cant say much to each other at all.

im always back and forth on speaking headcanons for kris but the one that i always seem to come back to is selective mutism… to me kris had a lot of trouble communicating well as a child and could only grow comfortable around certain people, asriel and noelle being clear examples because they’re both so patient with them. maybe because of this noelle felt like they could understand each other without really needing words, and just physical interaction was enough to achieve some form of closeness… or maybe that was all just on her end, she thinks when kris goes to play the piano. but if that’s the case, why does it feel like a concert just for her…?

jesus dont even get me start on them as teenagers either. noelle has lost her sister, and now kris has lost their brother… but not in the same way. they look at each other and wonder if they’re the same now. or, maybe thats too cruel. maybe its not the same thing at all. asriel’s coming back soon, after all. it will all be over soon, kris won’t have to feel this way for much longer, right? so then, why does kris look so miserable, sitting in the corner over there? all noelle feels like she can do is sit next to them quietly. to be there, and to somehow, vaguely, messily help each other. the misfit kids that dont really know how to talk to each other and yet understand each other regardless

thats why the dark world feels like such a dream to her. these crazy city lights, fantastical creatures, susie’s there, and she actually might have the means to defend herself and stand her ground, whether it be verbally or… otherwise

and most of all, much like with kris offering an adventurous haven to susie in ch1, the same is extended to noelle. by kris’s side, no less. it feels like theyre doing things together again, and its fun, and nostalgic… she wants to bring dess. and i think its okay to assume kris wants to bring asriel, too. recreating the make-believe world they lost so long ago… is it really possible?

no… how can it really be possible, when this isnt kris? something is wrong. its almost perfect, except kris… it’s them, but it’s not. she sees their face, their expressions, their laughs, their worries. and yet the voice that comes from them… isnt them. and it scares her! even if nothing particularly bad happened as a result. and if something bad DID happen, well…

she just wants what they had before back. is it really so impossible? can they reconcile after all these years? does kris want to? is kris capable of doing so? maybe they just need to hug again. will it feel like a real hug? the person she thought she understood is acting in ways she doesnt understand. they’re telling her to do weird things. they cycle through actions as if they just want to know what happens. and they cant even play piano anymore.

[loveandmurders]

Ya ain't love me... yet IV (Bo Sinclair x female reader)

Hello everyone! I'm so happy you seemed to have enjoyed this little Stockholm syndrome series with Bo x f!reader. If you have missed it, the first part is here (you can find everything on my House Of Wax masterlist too).

Hope you'll enjoy this finale <3

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of murders, a little bit of angst, fluff.

For once, you opened your eyes before Bo. You slowly remembered what you did with him the night before as you felt his naked body against yours. You truly wanted to hate it and to feel bad about it. But you couldn’t. You had truly enjoyed yourself and you even surprised yourself thinking you wouldn’t mind having sex with him from now on. You watched him rest. You took the time to observe him and you found him handsome. You had noticed the marks on his wrists last night, and you wondered what happened to him. You almost felt sad and angry. It was strange, because you were supposed to hate him and to enjoy his suffering. Something was changing, or had changed already. You were wondering about it a lot. Especially because you knew you were getting closer to a crossroad; soon you would need to pick between getting back to your previous life or staying by his side forever. 

It was obvious he was trusting you now. You were certain that if he always woke up before you, it was because he couldn’t let his guard down. After last night, he could. He was probably thinking you were in love with him now. You started to play with his curls, without realising it, as you were thinking about the consequences of your future choices.

You would never be able to truly get back to your previous existence because your boyfriend and friends were dead, and because your family and the police were probably looking for you all. It had been months you were missing now. It meant that you would need to tell them about Ambrose and about the Sinclairs. Something inside of you hurt at the thought of destroying their existences. And you weren’t too sure you wanted to face them in front of a judge. The Sinclairs treated you well in their own way. Plus, you didn’t want your family to treat you differently than before, but after this, they would pity you or not understand you. You would be the girl who got kidnapped and lost everything in the South of the country. You would be a survivor, you would be forced to go see a therapist to talk about everything. And you would be forced to realise that maybe it was a mistake, that maybe you wanted to live in Ambrose, away from your previous life.

Indeed, a growing part of you thought you might be free in Ambrose because you didn’t have to deal with your parents’ plans for you. Your dead boyfriend started to talk about having children with you because your parents told him it would be a good idea. He agreed with them. And it felt forced on you. Your parents picked the studies and the job they wanted for you. It had always been their plans for you before your own. Your friends were good to you, most of the time, but they were dead now and you weren’t too sure you were missing them that much. Here, you could restart your choices. You were certain you could find a job near Ambrose once Bo would trust you enough to let you go. It would be something you truly wanted to do. You could also learn how to paint with Vincent. You could laugh around with Lester. You could… be happy with Bo. Plus, you like to have a town for yourself because here, no one could tell you what to do or how to dress or how to behave.

You were free.

You unconsciously kissed Bo’s cheek and snuggled against him as your mind kept wandering to an existence in Ambrose. You didn't want to find this so appealing, but you also didn’t want to come back to the real world. You snapped back to reality when you felt fingers gently tracing your spine. Bo tightly hugged you as he fully woke up. He wanted to ask you if you were his girlfriend now, but instead he asked you what you were thinking about.

“Ambrose” you replied and he tilted his head to the side, confused

“How so, baby girl?” he hummed, drawing abstract patterns on your skin

“It’s not such of a bad place” you said and you weren’t even sure anymore if you were lying or if you were telling the truth.

“‘S a better place now ya’re here” Bo murmured, lazily cuddling with you.

He reluctantly went to work that morning.

You were quite silent that day, as you couldn’t stop thinking about what your life had become and about what you should do. You thought you needed to occupy yourself or you would go crazy, so you decided to bake something. You had never done this before but you knew the brothers had a sweet tooth. In the middle of your preparation, you realised you were making a chocolate cake to make them happy. You didn’t have the time to question it because you felt Bo kissing your shoulder. You had to resist the urge to smile at the gesture. It was scaring you; did you fall in love with him? Did you want to be a Sinclair, after everything that happened? Was it too late to run away?

“Watcha doin’?” Bo asked

“Chocolate cake” you quickly replied as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your neck.

“That’s nice” he mumbled against your skin “Might convince Les to stick ‘round” he commented and you nodded.

“Hey, Bo” you whispered as an idea sparkled into your mind

“Yes, doll?” he hummed back

“Maybe we could go eat out tonight, like in a restaurant.” you offered. Bo stayed silent for a few instants, silently debating with himself

“Why?” he finally asked

“For a date… Isn’t it what you do when you have a girlfriend? Don’t you bring her to nice restaurants from time to time?” you replied with a cheeky smile. You were playing with fire. Bo turned you around and tried to read in your eyes if you meant what you just said. He cupped your face and pressed his body against yours.

“No game?” he questioned, his breath tickling your lips

“What game?” you asked back

“I’ll think ‘bout it” he finally replied before moving from you. You were quite disappointed but you didn’t say anything.

He started to cook the meal as you finished off your cake. He noticed how silent you got and he felt bad about it. He didn’t want to upset you, especially now things were getting good, especially when you were calling yourself his “girlfriend”. He was afraid you would use the restaurant to run away from him. At the same time, if he didn’t show you some trust, he knew you would always be a little bit afraid of him and he didn’t want that. If one person was supposed to never be scared of him, it was his soulmate.

“Ya really wanna go to a restaurant tonight?” he asked and you shrugged “Ah baby, don’t pout” he hummed and he hugged you. “I’ll ask Lester for the address of somethin’ nice” he finally said; he couldn’t stand your silence. You smiled.

“Really?” you excitedly asked and Bo only nodded. He felt butterflies flying in his stomach at the sight of such joy coming from you. He was wrapped around your little finger and he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

The whole journey to the restaurant, you thought that it was going to be the night. Tonight, you would have to make a choice. His hand on your thigh was distracting you from your thoughts though, unable to take a decision.

You and Bo had dressed up a little more than usual, and you even put on a little bit of mascara, eyeliner and red lipstick. It was the only few products you came with, but it was good enough and you could tell Bo enjoyed the sight of you all dolled up. He couldn’t stop complimenting you. And truth to be told, he wasn’t half bad himself.

When you arrived, you were surprised by the very romantic setting of the place. Bo made sure you enjoyed it as you followed the waiter to the table he reserved for the two of you. You rarely went to a restaurant like that, but you really liked it. It was a nice change. Bo was very careful because he didn’t particularly like to be surrounded by strangers, but he was eager to make you happy. Once you both decided what to eat, he took out a little box from his pocket. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re getting me gifts now?” you gently teased and Bo smiled

“Bringin’ ya to a date without a gift… Ain’t feelin’ right” he shrugged.

He tried to play it cool, but he was really worried you wouldn’t like the jewel. It wasn’t something he found on one of his victims. For a first gift, he wanted something special. It was a silver chain with a little diamond on it. It used to belong to his great grandmother. It was one of the only valuable items his family ever owned, with his ring. You opened the box and gasped. You hadn’t expected something so beautiful.

“Are you sure?” you asked with wide eyes. No one ever gifted you a jewel that was so delicate, refined and pretty.

“Ya like it then?” Bo asked, quite relieved. He got up so he could help you put it on. The diamond settled right in the crook in between your collarbones, shining against your skin. It was as if the necklace had been made for you. 

“I love it, thank you so much. I have no words… You shouldn’t have” you babbled and Bo enjoyed it, shaking his head.

“Ya deserve the world, baby” he replied.

You smiled and you forgot that your plan was to find an issue and to run away from this man. How could you still want it when Bo was his absolute most charming self that night? He called you beautiful more times than you could count. He cracked quite a few jokes and he managed to make you laugh. You saw the way his eyes lit up at the sound you made and he brought your hand to his lips. He was certain things were finally getting good, and he was hoping so badly you weren’t thinking of escaping anymore, that you were in love with him, even half of what he was feeling for you would be enough for him. He was finally able to make you happy too. He flirted all dinner with you, and you couldn’t help yourself but flirt back. You were enjoying yourself and you felt like your ex boyfriend never existed. Deep down, you knew you didn’t want to run away anymore. 

But you needed to know something.

You leaned towards him and whispered so he was the only one who could hear you, not that anyone was listening to your conversation anyways.

“I need to know what’s going on in Ambrose, Bo. I can’t live with you without knowing why you do this.” you said. You didn’t want to ruin the mood, but it was important. Bo kept your hand in his and thought about the right way to answer you.

“Why askin’ me this now?” he replied and you bit down your bottom lip

“Because we’re a thing, and that I should know about it.” you said

“No, no need for ya to know ‘bout it.” he shook his head

“If you keep secrets from me, it means I’m not part of the family” you hummed and you were clearly touching something sensitive for Bo. You had noticed he was a family man.

“It’s for the House of Wax” he finally replied and he hoped it would be a good enough answer for you. You didn’t understand what that meant at all and you simply stared at him, in pure confusion. “Vinny is making wax statues,” Bo added. But you still didn't get it how it was relevant. "With the tourists"

“Oh” you simply whispered. You stayed silent for a little while. The Sinclairs weren’t just robbing and killing people, they were also using them for the House of Wax, as statues. You didn’t know how to react to this, or what to feel about it. Bo worried a little. He kissed the back of your hand once again, trying to get your attention back on him. “They’re there then” you whispered. Bo knew you were talking about your friends so he simply nodded. “And him?” you asked. Bo looked away before shaking his head. He had made sure there was nothing left of your ex boyfriend, of course.

You excused yourself to the bathroom. Bo didn’t stop you but he was on edge. He was really afraid you were going to do something stupid. He was already regretting that he told you the truth. He should have waited for the two of you to be at home, so he could have been sure, you wouldn’t have tried to escape him. He was trying very hard to convince himself that you loved him now, and that you wouldn’t care about the murders anymore.

You tied your hair up and washed your hands before refreshing your makeup. You were trying to busy yourself to not think about what to do. You were glad there was no one in the bathroom with you. 

You watched yourself in the mirror for a little while, as if you could see your future in your reflection. Your eyes first fell on the necklace Bo got you, then on your face. You noticed you didn’t seem afraid, you didn’t seem sad, you were just lost. You were supposed to want to leave, you were supposed to be disgusted by what Bo admitted to you, you were supposed to want to call the police on him and his family. 

You saw in the mirror that there was a window in the room. It was big enough for you to pass through it without too much trouble. Yes, it was your moment, you could try to run away now. 

Now or never.

But why would you want to go? You had been treated well in Ambrose and you could hope to have three dangerous men wrapped even more around your finger once you would fully forget about your past. You could be whoever you wanted to be, you could be truly happy. In your previous life, you were always thinking about your parents, your boyfriend and your friends first. What was the point now they were far away from you or dead? You didn’t want to get back to the world you used to know, you wanted everything a killer could give you.

Bo relaxed when he saw you coming back and you smiled at him.

“I’ll ask Vinny to give me a tour of the House of Wax, I’m curious about it now” you admitted and Bo tried to read on your face if you were truly alright. You grabbed his hand. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me.” you added and he nodded. “You know… Months ago you told me that I wasn’t in love with you yet. But I think I am now”

At those words, Bo kissed you like a mad man. He had never thought he would have the privilege to hear this from you, because he hadn’t been so sure he would be able win the game, but he was glad he did.

He did because even monsters deserve a happy ending.

--

Taglist : @lacychick ; @adalwolfgang ; @hollabackgrl ; @number1120 ; @the-number7 ; @hisokas-cardz ; @iwantsleepplz ; @loveinglymessedup ; @jojooasis ; @robin-the-enby

[fairycosmos]

I just read your post about your lack of identity and I feel so very similar. I've always been shy and quiet and weird even as a kid but nowadays (I'm 23) I have extreme social anxiety and one tip I always hear is to "just be yourself" and to not be ashamed if you say/do something embarassing etc etc. And the thing is...I dont know how to be myself. I spent the last 5 years basically only interacting with my immediate family because i lost all my friends due to my mental illness and my being unable to be a normal young person. And in this time of (relative) isolation all these things that humans naturally do in interactions or just everyday life have become very hard and artificial-feeling for me. Like everything i do i am aware of and i think it through, even the dumbest stuff like scratching my fucking nose. Now when I'm around other people I lose all sense of who I am and what I want to do and say. I'm not even scared to embarass myself anymore, I just turn into a completely empty shell around others because it feels like all of myself is gone then, so it is IMPOSSIBLE for me to "be myself". What would myself do now? Smile? Say something? Move around in my seat? I literally dont know. Who am I even? And then I HAVE TO put on some kind of facade and try to act normal because otherwise i would literally sit there, staring blankly into space with no expression, not saying a word. It is so fucking hard. Sorry for telling you this, I hope you have a nice day if you ever read this <3

i completely understand what you mean, im in the same boat and honestly you articulated this so well.....ive nicknamed it social or mental atrophy and it's incredibly painful and disorienting to deal with......what's worse is you'd think the simple solution is to just force yourself to be around people more but it's not that simple at all and it just sucks so fucking bad. especially the older you get. im 23 too and i just feel like i never got to develop a mind or personality of my own around others. to this day im just on autopilot with nothing to offer and my natural state is just silence and not talking or expressing anything. people are obviously not very drawn to that and it's just a really lonely way to be but i quite literally don't know how to be anything else. i go through that too - just questioning what am i supposed to do in this moment? what would "i" do or say? i just don't know and ive tried really hard to push myself into social situations for years and it still hasn't changed anything. yeah, i completely get what you mean - it's really hard and im sorry you have to deal with it as well. i truly hope you find people who appreciate you the way you deserve to be appreciated. i hope you're able to discover yourself bit by bit and that you feel comfortable enough to express that someday. i hope you have a nice day too and if you ever need a friend or anything feel free to shoot me a message ❤️

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - IV

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: Long, multi-parted, slow burn, fem!reader, fluff, not proof read, angst

Stepping into the apartment made it instantly clear, that this wasn't a birthday dinner, it was a birthday party. Music played from the living room and you could hear laughter and conversation from every corner of the dwelling. In almost every crevice, there was at least a pair, usually more, cutting up and reminiscing on old times. There were cousins here you hadn't seen since early childhood. What was this all for?

Shortly after entering, your mother abandoned you to tend to whatever was in the kitchen, leaving you and the tallest person in the house to fend for yourselves. "Let's go in the dining room," you said, grabbing hold of Shoji's hand and pulling him along.

He silently nodded, feeling eyes on him from everywhere. He did truly stand out amongst your family, who mostly had emitter-type quirks if he had to guess. He could always count how many mutations he saw in any given space- something he'd learned from an early age. It was a tactic of knowing who to risk interacting with and who to avoid. He found that mutated people would find him...less unnerving.

Currently, he'd counted two people with mutations, but they looked nothing like you or your mother, so he had to guess that were were related by marriage. One was a young woman with a round head and abnormally large ears. The other was a small boy with a slender, rat-like vestigial tail- both cases of small, some might even say charming changes to a regular person's anatomy. This made Shoji feel even more freakish as he ducked into he dining room, seeing a large percentage of your family staring back at him.

The feeling, however, was lessened by the cheering that came with you entering with him; long-forgotten aunts, uncles, and cousins excited to see your face after such a long time of low contact.

"Well if it isn't our very own hero in training!" one man chirped, raising a glass. "Glad you were able to make it out to see us, don't go forgetting about us little folks when you hit the big leagues!"

"(Y/N)!" A little girl came running up to you, tugging on your pants. "Do you get to fight bad guys?!" You laughed sheepishly, explaining in the best way you could to fit a toddler's understanding what your training actually entailed.

Shoji couldn't help but feel warm watching you interact with your family. It was clear that they were all so proud of you and overjoyed to see you. To his dismay, however, the distraction of your presence from his didn't last long.

"So, kiddo, whose this uh..." the man spoke up again, raising his glass and tipping it towards your guest. "guy you brought with you?"

Your cheeks flushed as you quickly clung to Shoji's arm with a nervous smile. "Oh, how could I forget? Everyone, this is Shoji, my boyfriend!" It wasn't lost on said 'boyfriend' how your tone had changed this time around. It almost felt genuine. Almost.

"Boyfriend?" The man, one of your uncles sneered. "You're too little to be having a boyfriend, besides, you don't want anybody distracting you from going pro!"

You laughed in response, failing to sense Shoji's discomfort. "Uncle, it's not like that! Besides, Shoji's training to be a hero too! We want each other to succeed first and foremost."

"That's enough, son." An elderly voice called from the end of the table. Glancing over, your heart swelled with joy.

"Grandma!" you cheered, dashing over to sit beside her, engulfing her in a tight hug. "I miss you so much!"

"I missed you too, dear," she replied with a kind smile, patting your back. When you pulled away,. she reached forward, placing her hand on top of Shoji's.

"Now don't you pay my son any mind, young man." She reassured, eyes darting over to the said man. "He's had a few too many." It was at this point your 'beaux' realized the empty glass your uncle had been holding had tan foam collected at the bottom. It was beer. "You know, son, you outta be a lot nicer to this boy, he saved little (Y/N)'s life you know?"

Shoji wasn't sure what he'd expected your grandmother to say, but that sure wasn't it. He saved your life? When? "G-Grandma-!" you stammered, cheeks burning. "You don't have to bore them with the details!"

"Oh, no, dear, I do!" She insisted. "Don't you all remember when (Y/N) got her license to become a hero? That test she had to take?" There as collection of hums and variations of 'yes' from the crowd. "Well, that day, she called me up and she said 'Grandma! You'll never guess! During the exam, I was stuck in this trap and that handsome guy I told you about rescued me!'"

You definitely didn't tell the story like that, you cringed. She made it sound so mushy, it was like that at all!

"I don't remember that," Shoji, glanced down at you with a curious smile.

"I don't either," you grumbled. "I didn't say it like that."

"No need to be so grumpy, dear." your grandmother said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's alright, I think it's a romantic story."

You couldn't take this suffocation much more, feeling more humiliated by the second. Suddenly, you stood up, needing an out. "I-I think I hear Mom calling me from the kitchen, better go see what she needs!"

Before Shoji could stand to follow you, you'd disappeared. He blinked at your grandmother, confused, who beckoned him closer and he stole the seat you'd sat in and leaned closer to her. "That girl is just head over heels for you, know it?" She smiled kindly. Part of him wanted to ask if she was sure, not feeling like it was possible, but the other part of him knew that was the wrong choice. "I haven't told her yet, but my sickness has gotten worse," she confessed, looking past him, following the path you'd taken. "I won't have another birthday party, this is my last one. We wanted to make it special."

"W-With all due respect, ma'am," Shoji swallowed hard, shifting nervously in his seat. "Why are you telling me this instead of her?"

"I just wanted you to know you have my blessing." The old woman smiled, brighter than she had before, cradling one of his hands in her withered ones. "I'm content knowing my little girl is in good hands." She laughed. "And she can be a handful, but from the looks of it, I'd say youve got enough hands for the job."

Suddenly, this all felt heinous. How could he lie to this woman after she confessed to being on her last bit of time on Earth? He had to come clean. "M-Ma'am, there's something you don't know..."

"You aren't actually together, I know." she finished his thought for him.

"How did you...?"

"Some call it telepathy, I call it an old woman's intuition." She chuckled heartily. "But I'm not worried, I can see you care very deeply for my granddaughter, don't you, Mezo?"

He froze hearing his first name while knowing for a fact you hadn't introduced his full name when you came in. Obviously, the old woman had a mind-reading quirk. He chose to ignore it in favor of the bigger picture. "I-I..." he stammered, unsure of what the answer truly was.

"Only someone who cares would put themselves in the predicament you're in, am I right?" she rationed with a knowing smile as she sipped a cup of tea.

"I guess that makes sense..." Shoji finally admitted. "I guess I've always liked her a little bit, but I never really thought I had a shot."

"You've got more than a shot, son." She finally said. "You've got a guaranteed bullseye. Now just promise me one thing and I'll let you go."

"What's that?"

A tear slipped down the woman's wrinkled face. "Take care of my baby."

"I will," he lunged forward, enveloping her in a hug. "I promise."

Part I

Part II

Part III

[day-drawn-blog]

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die. - "I want to live".

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. This is set in Act I.

Tags: angst....

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace.

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live.

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known.

Part VI: These ain't my sins. I broke my chains.

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours.

Part VIII : Your blood like wine, invites me in.

Part IX : I welcome my sentence, to give you my penance

--------

Into the night, turbulent thoughts led you to dark places in your mind. You got up, and stepped out. The campsite was desolate. Serene. You walked towards the distant hills. Alone. Feelings of loneliness, rejection, abandonment haunting you. The bond you thought you had built with another, these past few weeks, was perhaps too fragile to endure. A shared secret had brought you close. Only a yearning remained. Of what could have been. 

He was holding her, consoling her. 

You reasoned. The cool air on your face brought you back to the present. The great vastness in front of you, made you feel, insignificant. You had been too greedy, and had come full circle to the start. You were here back then. Rejected, and abandoned. But now....amidst the chaos you knew you did the right thing. You would trade guilt for your pain any day. You needed to bring order. 

You needed to refocus. 

The moonlight bathed you. You heard someone approach. You didn't expect him that night. But there he was. You looked at your cut, blood trickling down. "Stay back, Astarion. Do not come closer." He didn't heed your warning. Bad move. You thought through gritted teeth. You had overlooked every transgression of his. No more. 

You reached for your weapon. 

You swung it. The great hallberd gleamed in the moonlight and was met with two of his swords held in each hand. Anger coursing through you, you retreated and attacked. Again and again. What you lacked in martial skill you made up in pure bitterness. He defended himself well. He was more skilled in wielding his melee weapons than you were. 

His eyes were as resolved as yours. 

He hadn't uttered a word till then. But you were beginning to lose your breath, and your footing. You could incinerate him instantly, but that wasn't your goal. That wouldn't suffice, wouldn't calm your wrath. You hit, harder, repeatedly. He parried every single one, swift on his feet. Eventually he overpowered you. 

He had a sword to your throat. 

You fell to your knees. Exhausted. Still in the grips of an unfathomable rage. You cast Eldritch Blast on a nearby rock, shattering it to pieces. Only then did you feel your rage subside a bit. Spent, you on all fours, you hit the ground with a fist. He threw his swords in front of you. "Stop", he growled. "I'm yours... already" he continued. "Stop this madness. Why ...punish yourself in my stead. My body is yours. Just ... use me as you wish...punish me ... or use me for pleasure ..." 

"However you like. As you desire..." 

What nonsense is this?!. Does he understand the gravity of what he is saying? Has he lost his mind? 

"I do not want you, Astarion. You are not a thing, nor mine to claim". You got up. "Why are you here, anyway?" You couldn't mask your resentment. You no longer wished to be caught in his web of lies, ensnared by his charm, in the illusion of love and desire. Yes you craved to be needed, wanted, sought out. But this... was just an mirage. Carefully crafted to manipulate you. 

You were being used the entire time. 

And you would put an end to that now. Fully resolved to not relent to his charm. To none of his advances. You braced for the next honeyed words he would inevitably utter, to pull you back into the dream he wove. But he said something entirely unprecedented. "I ....have nowhere else to be". He said, quietly. 

Another lie. You thought. 

"You abandoned Shadowheart? I cannot help but marvel at the coldness of your heart. But of course, you are a vampire. You do not have one". 

You hoped to cut him. But why. 

He looked at you, searching, with his eyes. Did you really mean that? He could try reading you all he wanted. Your face wouldn't betray your inner turmoil. Unable to fathom you.... He relented. 

"She doesn't ...want me. She never did. All she ever wanted, all anyone...has ever wanted...from me...was pleasure. When someone seeks me out...I do not refuse them. It's what she did. So I gave myself to her. It's what I was taught. It's all I have ever known, to do. As long as I can remember...to be". 

"It's, all ...I am". 

Wait. What? Hold on...

"In another lifetime" he continued. Oblivious to the horror on your face. "I would have taken her to my master, Cazador. No one has ever sought me out, more than once. They never got a chance..you see. They either died...or were enslaved by my master." He looked at you, nonchalantly explaining his life to you... Not realizing how it made you feel. 

Your words failed you. 

Astarion was baring his most vulnerable self to you. He was being....honest. Was that really how he had lived ...under Cazador? How could Cazador do that to him? You needed to help him. The hatred in you, the seething rage was replaced with remorse. That you hadn't known ...about his man. About the darkness he was battling with. He was a prisoner in the past ...and a prisoner now, to the scars he bore. 

"But now...is different". He continued.

"She did seek me out. More than once. And I was happy, to oblige. I was grateful. I was happy ...to be of use to her. She is beautiful...and powerful...and kind. I felt safe... protected. So, I served her, to my best ability." So ... Yes, you both found pleasure in each other. But she probably felt more than that about you, Astarion. Or were you so oblivious to the fact that someone can want you...for more than pleasure....it made you blind to ...her true feelings?

He needed saving. And love. 

"Why abandon her now? If you devote yourself to her, she will continue to cherish and protect you. Im.sure. " you reassured him. "That's what you want isn't it?" You gently led him. Hoping to steer him in the right way. If Shadowheart could bring him out of the darkness, maybe he should ...let her. 

He shook his head. He disagreed. 

"I felt ...empty...with her. Around her. I had to wear my mask. Never let her know who I was, lest she throw me away, because I was a ...monster. I am a monster, you see. I'm prey on the living. I drink...blood." He looked away. 

He really despised himself, you noticed. 

The regret in his voice was palpable. "But you.... You forgave me, for being, who I was. I felt free...with you. I have never been myself, around anyone outside of Cazador's ..."family"...Returning to her ... after you...was exhausting. Unsettling..." 

"I didn't want it anymore. "

"Didn't look forward to it...it was ... difficult. I was growing cold to her...avoiding her. She noticed ...I'm sure. But she never spoke of it. Which led me to believe she never sought me outside of ...carnal pleasure. Perhaps she had tired of me too. Perhaps I wasn't my best... with her anymore. I couldn't force myself anymore. I was happier....when with you..."

You wanted to heal his fragile heart. 

"I do not want you for carnal pleasure Astarion. That's not what I need from you. I will give you my protection freely. And perhaps my blood, should you desperately need it." Astarion looked at you. That was not what he was expecting to hear at all. He was fully prepared to be thrown away. He had had several nights with you. More than he could have wished for. 

He was happy with just that. 

What had he done to deserve that? Him. Why him? He was the lowest of the low. A murderer, evil incarnate. Despicable.  "But ...why? I have given nothing to you. I have only taken .. I have nothing to offer you...I have nothing...I possess nothing, The only thing I know how to do, only thing I'm good at....is ...my body. To serve...to pleasure ..." 

"So ... just use me, please". He pleaded. 

Must he be so used to degrading himself? "You can offer me many things Astarion. Your loyalty to start. Your cheerful disposition. Your strength... both of body and mind. Your... friendship ...your trust." You smiled at him. You could give me your real self, your affection ...your pure, uninhibited love... But you didn't say that. That was not something you would ask. "You can keep your promise to me from the other night. A reason ...for me to live on". You reminded him. 

"I do need you too....your embrace... " 

You said, as you smiled, you looked at him. To reassure him that you meant it. He looked at you blankly at first. Unsure. But ..then...in what felt, forever. His face lit up. "Really? Is that all you want...from me? Can I offer you ... Yes....i promise you...you have my.. my trust and my faith. My loyalty and my unwavering friendship. My gratitude." He walked to you. "You have ...all of me. Every bit of me. The monster and the ally. The sword and the shield. My ..self ..." He held you. 

"I'm yours. Only yours". He smiled.

Looking at you. "Whether you need me or not, I'm here for you. You need not look further.. I devote myself to you. Till you...till you no longer want me". He held your face in his hands. His voiced suddenly tinged with sadness. "But even so ....I only hope and prey, that you don't abandon me. Can you promise me? After making me feel wanted, for who I am.... I would not be able to live on, if you threw me away too...I have no one else..." 

He pleaded with his eyes... Before kissing you.

-------

Epilogue 1 -

Leave the flames and take a chance to be with me tonight