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yorsgirl · 26 days

Note

Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

Oh my, I love love love this idea!!

I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late

Playing God

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.

Tropes: Dark Romance, Historical fiction, Angst

Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.

General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n, not proofread.

Word Count: 9.7k ( Just when I thought AFW2 was long, I write this... I know its too much but trust me, I needed to. There was just so many things which I couldn't miss out.)

A/N: This is the first request which I worked on, so idk if I did it up to your standard. I sincerely apologize, if this isn't what you wanted. + I hope its similar to what you wanted. Thanks for the wait and request.

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."

You had seen it all.

You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.

"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."

You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing, you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too. You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."

Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.

"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare – considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him.You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, your hand stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.

Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.

A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your Husband's lineage. Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.

Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.

You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.

Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down - no, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.

Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To have born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood combined with his, a living proof of your plight - disgusting.

Never. You'd never let that happen.

You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.

You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.

You were affirmed, an heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.

Speak of the devil, he appears.

An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.

"Sit." He commanded.

You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.

"I heard from the midwife."

You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.

With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"

"Not another word."

You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?

He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.

They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.

"The one at fault bore consequences."

That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"You aren't at fault, wife."

Oh, but you were.

Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."

The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."

"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"

He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.

But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."

His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).

After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"

Silence.

You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.

You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.

"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"

"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"

If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.

You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.

"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."

Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.

Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."

It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"

"I will accompany you."

"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."

Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.

"Bring him."

As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.

The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.

What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?

—》《—

"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."

"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."

"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"

"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."

"Or so, she's simply incapable."

—》《—

Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.

Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.

At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.

He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.

Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.

You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.

Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.

Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse, just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.

It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.

You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found...

Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.

The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.

"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.

"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."

The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.

"Rise," He declared.

The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"

—》《—

"May I make a request, my lord?"

Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.

"Speak."

He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing.

"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"

—》《—

"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"

"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant, he gets to live another day, then he'll just give what he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"

"In pregnancy."

The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"

Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.

"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.

"It-Its a- your highness, I d-don't think you-"

"Bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."

The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to misc-"

"Miscarriage?"

"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."

A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.

The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"

The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.

It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.

The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.

Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.

Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.

"Not edible, dispose of it."

You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.

He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.

No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.

Silence was never uneventful.

Taking up the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."

Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books, Sukuna had bought you).

On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.

"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"

The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present- shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.

"Pardon, my lord?"

Sukuna snorted , walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist - pulling you closer to him.

"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words - herbs."

Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. He knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?

Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...

The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.

Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."

He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.

"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."

Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.

"Come, let me entertain you."

You were walking to the gallows.

Not literally but you were sure, your end was near.

The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.

Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home - never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.

Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.

He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.

You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.

What happened to him?

"My lord," You called. "What are you-"

"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.

Dark.

It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.

"One bite."

Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.

Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.

You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.

Don't speak a word.

Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."

He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.

He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.

Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific - that'd be your excuse.

He won't die. Not from your hands.

You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.

Miscalculation.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, an gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.

You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.

Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.

You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.

The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.

The boy was dead.

"Enjoyed the show, wife?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.

"Wh-what did you-"

No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.

"What... did you do?"

Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.

And he was watching you.

It reminded you of the time, you first saw him - covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?

"What did you do?" You repeated again.

Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."

You needed to run.

The kanzashi, which was till then clasped in your hand firmly, fell down. A clank, you heard.

One step.

One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.

"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.

Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he puts any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.

"Dare to shut your eyes."

Compliance had become second nature.

The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.

The sight caused you to gag.

Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.

"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.

You shook your head violently, clawing at his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.

"You did that."

No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.

"You killed him."

No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.

"Take a good look. See what you've done."

You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.

"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."

Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."

No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.

It was... him.

"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."

"Really? How so?"

Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.

"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."

"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."

Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.

"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"

"Sure of it?"

You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."

His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.

"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"

Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.

"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."

Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.

"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"

"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."

"There was no venom on my pin."

"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.

"His fear turned into poison."

You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"

"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."

His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.

He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"

"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"

"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."

"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.

Disgust arose in you, yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never.

He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."

"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"

Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.

Fear, poison, belief, killing...

He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.

Why won't he much rather just end your life?

Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.

"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."

"And?"

His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.

You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. You could see him, rolling his eyes while speaking. "However, the taste of taking a life - isn't it delicious, wife?"

Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooden - bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You don't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.

A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"

"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.

"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."

Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.

But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.

"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."

His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."

"I am nothing-"

"You're. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line.

Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.

"You kill children in your womb, I kill them, after they're born. How is it so different?"

"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "I kill for your own sake, I do not."

"Then who do you kill for?"

"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.

"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.

"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."

From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.

You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.

"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."

He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.

"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."

He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete.

But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."

What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?

Oh, he knew.

Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.

Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.

He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:

"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"

Worth everything.

Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).

Oh, how good he has you memorized.

Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.

"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."

Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.

Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.

You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)

Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.

"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"

Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."

Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.

So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.

"Let me just show it to you then, wife."

It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.

You were home.

One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.

Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.

"Mother…"

She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.

"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."

Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"

The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.

"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."

"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.

You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"

You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"

Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.

"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"

"No more."

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"

"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.

"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.

"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.

"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"

"Don't you dare call me that."

The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.

"You are no daughter of mine."

You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.

"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.

The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.

"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."

This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?

You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.

Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.

Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.

You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.

You were truly pathetic.

But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.

"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."

"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."

Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"

"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."

You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.

You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"

"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."

"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"

"Save it for someone who would care, whore."

The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.

"You are just as twisted as him."

"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."

"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."

The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.

I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?

Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.

For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.

The next moment, everything made sense.

These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.

Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.

Did they truly try to lay down your life?

Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)

Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.

He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.

For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.

However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.

Provoking him was never the right move.

You were digging your own grave.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.

No one touches what's mine.

The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.

Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.

Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.

Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?

Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.

Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?

Traitors don't get to talk.

Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.

With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.

"Saw it for yourself wife?"

Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.

Their predicament was your solace.

Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?

You were always like me, wife.

You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.

"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.

"A pact?"

"A pact."

A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."

The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:

"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."

A year later

Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.

"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."

A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.

However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3

881 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 5 months

Text

Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem.

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage.

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer.

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all.

“You good?” asks Eunbi.

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply.

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon.

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama.

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes.

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it.

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff.

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails.

You huff. “I’m trying.”

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished.

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!”

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure.

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished.

“Ms. Kang!”

Curl.

Thread.

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her.

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?”

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks.

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional.

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no?

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse?

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do.

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done.

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job.

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around.

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely.

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers.

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows.

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design.

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world.

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours.

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it.

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles.

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people.

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault.

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.”

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop.

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth.

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright.

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy?

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck.

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.”

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her.

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile.

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on.

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.”

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media. Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.”

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well.

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty.

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.”

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so.

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.”

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.”

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking.

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless.

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.”

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver.

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is.

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar.

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent.

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.”

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further.

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles.

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them.

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch.

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet.

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh.

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them.

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart.

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy.

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts.

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs.

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger.

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!”

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!”

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to.

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues.

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.”

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore.

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

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hmxltn · 1 year

Text

mornings (charles leclerc)

summary: waking up w charles <3

pairing: charles leclrec x reader

warnings: not smut but like its pretty obvious that they fucked

a/n: sad ab charles not getting thru q1 so have this :)

A SMALL SWIRL swirl of leaves forms under the whisper of the wind as it blows reveries through the worn voile curtains, dancing a peaceful, timeless dance. Tendrils of sunlight bleed through the sheer curtain, caressing your cheek. The room is serenaded by the low hum of the bustling city you both call home, and the soft chatter of its people fills your ears. You smile; tranquillity has never come easily to either of you.

The scent of lavender fills the room, transporting you back to lush green plains, flowers swaying in the wind as it sings sweet melodies written by the most delicate of poets, and the beauty of Mother Nature reflected in the morning sunlight.

Suddenly, you can feel Charles' breath on your skin, similar to the night before, but this was less frantic and less intentional.

Last night, he had kissed you—and perhaps because you thought he won’t ever stop, you pulled him closer, and closer. His whispers, pliant to your ears, had never been so soft, so sweet. He held you; fingers against your waist and skin. His fingers had burned like wildfire; and like skilled artists, they painted trails across your skin. You had felt it first against your cheek, your arms then your hips. To you, he was like ambrosia, a respite after the cigarettes you’d been smoking.

Slowly you begin to feel his eyelashes move against the side of your neck and the feel of your own name against your skin. You only hum in response, too tired to come up with a simple ‘yes?’.

“Bonjour,” he says, and you can feel his smile as the ends of his lips move the hairs at the nape of your neck just enough for it to send a shiver cascading down your spine.

“Bonjour,” you manage to reply, and his fingers start to trace your hips, and now your waist. You turn your body so you’re facing him fully and cover your face in his chest, trying your best not to look at him. You can’t look at him. Because if you did, he’d let his fingers trace your jaw like this, and he’d put them under your chin like he was doing now and—

Christ.

“Belle fille,” he whispers to you, a grin painting his lips. (pretty girl)

You can’t stop the smile that breaks on your face, brighter than the tendrils of sunlight that bleed against both your skins.

feedback & reblogs r always appriciated x

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akutasoda · 3 months

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songbirds

synopsis - sunday can't help but form a slight crush on a beautiful voice from among the reveries halls

includes - sunday ft robin

warnings - gn!reader, reader is a halovian, fluff, slight angst, sunday listens to reder without them knowing?, wc - 1k

a/n: as mentioned before in a post on my blog, i don't write male reader. but this idea was too good to pass up so i just made it gn! additionally this anon made a second request with some aventurine ideas so expect that tommorow! this is a screenshot of the original request as i don't want to spoil the next idea :)

surprisingly to some, sunday did roam the halls and lobbies of the reverie quite often. he was apart of the family and so he liked to know what was happening outside of the dreamscape aswell as inside - especially if soecial guests were due to arrive. he was also often accompanied by robin but today she had her own business to attend to smooth out details about her performance in the upcoming charmony festival. and so he doubted his presence was needed.

on some various occasions he had heard visitors checking out or current visitors talk word about a lovely melody heard from some parts of the hotel. at first he assumed the reverie now offered a greater range of music and this was the current favourite. and so he didn't think much when he heard a similar melody gracing his ears.

it was a tune he could only compare to his sisters own lovely song. he practically became entranced the more he listened and so he stopped and listened to the entire song. he only broke free from this trance when the melody stopped and he heard footsteps grow more distant. this meant that the melody belonged to a person no?

sunday must admit that over the very short time he had stopped to listen to the melody he had become rather addicted. he wanted to hear more but unfortunately he hadn't caught who it was so he was at a wits end. his best hope was to return tommorow in search of the person who produced such a sweet melody.

you were a halovian that used to work amongst the dreamscape and helped with various affairs. however the family had requested you change your space of work into the reverie and instead help manage affairs their - so now most of your day included wandering around the various halls of the reverie.

you had built a hobby for yourself of humming or singing when doing daily tasks alone. you weren't fond of doing so infront of others however. the halls of the reverie were often empty as most visitors spent their time asleep in the dreampools and so you often could be heard singing among them as you never thought anybody would hear you.

sunday had finally managed to find time to exit the dreamscape and search for the owner of the melody he heard the other day. he wandered the halls of the reverie after not finding the owner where he found them previously and eventually he heard a very faint but familiar voice, he followed the voice until it was as clear as anything.

over multiple days and eventually weeks, sunday had made a routine of tracking down the voice that enchanted him. he had figured you worked at the reverie as he had heard the bellboy, misha, call for you multiple times - which was how he learned your name - and it seemed highly unlikely that somebody would stay for this long at the reverie.

but something was different today, instead of one melodic voice he heard two. one of which he recognised instantly as his sisters. robin approached you earlier that day and embarrassingly told you that she heard from others about a beautiful singing voice heard within the reverie. this made you terribly embarrassed as you never thought the guests of the hotel could hear you.

she eased your worries slightly by instead complimenting your voice and natural talent for singing. however you only became more embarrassed when she asked to hear it herself,even though she offered to sing alongside you. your worries eased when you finally decided to sing alongside her.

sunday really couldn't help the pang of jealousy that consumed him. how come his sister got to hear you sing comfortably around her? he knows he hasn't exactly been forward with his habit of listening to you, unbeknownst to you - sometimes he did think he was being kind of creepy. but still, all he could feel was jealousy and a longing that maybe you'd sing around him like this.

robin knew her brother was hiding something. he disappeared frequently and told her he was 'running errands in the reverie', she knew he was lying. but she never brought him up on it until she saw him retreating from your direction when she bid farewell from you. oh now she knew. and oh how she couldn't help but tease her brother about it.

he felt as if he had been caught doing a heinous crime when his sister asked him about you. he felt even more embarrassed when she figured out that you had no idea he was listening and as creepy as that sounded she unfortunately knew why he had no choice. but it was a difficult situation because there was no way either of them could tell you that sunday would regularly listen to you.

instead robin decided to lend her dear brother a hand and offered to atleast introduce him to you officially without letting you know that he had listened to you multiple times. but meeting you only made his admiration for you increase as now he had developed sort of a major crush on you. robin could only stare at her brother in awe at his awkwardness.

sunday would then come to toil day in and day out over you. your singing was a blessing to his ears that would replay over and over in his head until he listened to you in person. slowly but surely he would come to realise that he truly couldn't get his feelings across to you in person and so instead he wrote a letter.

a letter that he would then come to leave for you in your room at the reverie. and as your eyes landed on the letter on the table in your room, a letter accompanied with a familiar greyish feather, you knew immediately who it was from. and as you read it, a smile would grace your lips as you placed it carefully back upon the table and rush to find the man you'd happily take as your lover.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #hsr x male reader

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 months

Text

Please Fix the Story- pt 27 The Higher Realm

Here it is guys, a new part! Not very long, but it's new and I'm happy. Thanks for everyone who waited.

Masterpost linked here for anyone who wants to re-read.

___________________________

*** Soul transfer 25% complete. ***

As the words formed in front of me, I felt a sudden surge of dark power from deep within my soul. It crackled just beneath my skin, an incredible, immeasurable force. I could feel it, knew it was there with a deep certainty I couldn’t explain. But while I could sense the enormity of it, I couldn’t touch it, couldn’t reach it or use it in any way. I stared down at my hand in frustration, wishing I understood what “soul transfer” meant, and how it was connected to this power within me.

“Umm… are you okay?”

A soft voice broke me from my reverie. I glanced up to see Liam staring at me with a look of concern. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later…” He was still extending a hand down to me to help me to stand.

How long have I been sitting here, staring at my hand, like a crazy person?

“Sorry.” I took Liam’s offered hand, sucking in a shocked breath once I did so. There was a sudden connection when our hands touched. Something deep within my soul that had felt empty and alone had filled the moment my hand touched his, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. The connection was strange to me, but at the same time achingly familiar. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the shock, and used his help to stand next to him. I was somewhat surprised to realize how tall he was, his thinner frame disguising his height. I tilted my head back, my eyes meeting his own quietly amused gaze.

“Sorry.” I repeated. “I’m just a little confused and lost.”

“Ah. No worries about that! You’re in good company, I happen to specialize in being lost and confused.” He answered with a smile.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’m Bel.”

“I know.”

I sighed with relief. “Good, I wasn’t sure, since we looked so different when we last saw each other!”

“You knew that was me?” He blurted out, obviously surprised. “How?”

I tilted my head. “You have the same name? We had coffee? You were the assassin who wasn’t a cat?”

“Ah… Yes! The assassin world. That’s definitely the time I was thinking of, and not any other lower realm.” Nodding enthusiastically, he avoided my curious look, but didn’t step away from our close position.

It was then I realized, somewhat uncomfortably, that I had not let go of his hand after taking it to stand up. With a regret I couldn’t quite explain, I released him, my hand feeling immediately empty and cold. Besides that, I felt a deep fatigue slowly settling in, an unexplainable tiredness as if my energy was slowly being sapped away. It had started from the moment I woke up here, and slowly became more noticeable over time. I looked over at Liam, who seemed unaffected by any similar exhaustion.

There’s something so familiar about him, I feel it even more so than I did in the assassin world. Which reminds me…

BAM!

“Ouch!” Liam rubbed his upper arm where I softly punched him. He looked down at me, confused. “What was that for?”

Avoiding his puppy dog eyes, I forced myself to scowl and explain. “THAT’s for poisoning yourself, you jerk!”

“Oh. That.”

“YEAH THAT! Do you know how hard I cried when I realized what you did? Just casually drinking poison and sneaking off to an alley to die?”

“I’m sorry, I…” He stuttered as he rushed to explain himself. “I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think what?”

“Didn’t think it would matter.” His voice was neutral, almost carefree, which made the certainty of his words even worse. He truly didn’t think there was anyone who minded that he died in that world. “I’m the villain, Bel. I had to die if that lower realm world was to avoid being destroyed. I didn’t want you to feel sad or guilty, and that seemed the best way.” He paused. “Wait… why did you cry? Weren’t you happy the world was saved?”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to knock some sense into this man. “I cried because I thought you were dead! I thought I would never see you again!”

“You wanted to see me again?” His excited tone threw me off.

“Well… yes, but you’re missing the point!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Do you even know why are you apologizing?”

“Because I made you sad when I drank poison and died in the lower realm. So I’ll try my best not to drink poison ever again.” He paused. “Is that right?”

I rubbed my forehead. “Not just poison, Liam, try not to get hurt at all.”

“That would be difficult.” He now had a solemn expression on. “Villains have to have a bad ending for the story to end happily.”

The villain? I felt a dull burning ache in my heart at his words, a memory just beyond reach.

“Why do you think you’re the villain?”

He shrugged. “It’s my role.”

“I don’t think you’re a villain. Villains don’t drink poison to protect a world from being destroyed.”

“I never said I was good at being a villain.”

I sighed at his amused words, and gave up trying to convince Liam for now. Turning away from him, I finally took a good look at my surroundings. The sense of fatigue was growing stronger, I felt dead on my feet, but curiosity overcame the tiredness as I examined my new location.

“Where are we?”

It was a forest, somewhat similar to the one that surrounded the castle in the Higher Realm, but a dark and twisted version. The sunlight around us was a muted, almost grayish light, piercing through the rotting branches, barely reaching the ground that was mixed dirt and dying grass. The trees pierced through the earth, tangled dark wood fighting each other for the slightest hint of light and air. The shadows were just a bit too dark, not matching the objects casting them.

“Is this still the higher realm?”

“…No. I’ve never seen that place, but I heard it’s beautiful. This place is different.” Liam looked around dully.

“It’s not a lower realm though, there’s no story or mission prompt. So where is it?”

“It a separate realm, with a specific purpose.” He was now staring at his feet, avoiding eye contact.

“What purpose?”

“It’s a cage, Bel.” His blue eyes met mine, and I could see the deep sadness within it. “And you can’t stay here.”

I was shocked at that. “You want me to leave?”

“What?!” He almost fell in shock at my words, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain. “No, that’s not what I mean at all! I would love for you to stay! Nothing would make me happier than if you could live here… I mean…” He seemed to realize what he was saying, and flushed with embarrassment. “It’s this place that’s the problem… watch:”

He reached out and touched a tree branch, which fell to pieces in his hand.

“This place destroys life, slowly draining the energy from everything in it until only death remains. Nothing good can survive here.”

That explains the tiredness I felt. For a moment I remembered Adonis showing me a blood red door. What had he called it? “A higher realm like ours. But a place of pure evil.” He told me something similar at the time, that nothing good could survive there. Looks like I managed to explore the scary portal in the end. But if what they are saying is true…

“What about you, Liam? How can you live here if it’s so dangerous?

“I told you.” He shrugged. “This world is a cage. And I’m the monster it’s meant to hold.”

“You’re not…” I wanted to protest his words, but I stopped at the look in his eyes. Changing tactics, I asked instead: “So how do we escape this cage?”

“I don’t know.” He frowned. “How did you get here?”

I thought about my last memory before I woke up, and then cursed loudly. “That IDIOT!”

“…I’m sorry?”

“Not you! That jerk who drugged me and tossed me in here!” My stomach growled. “And he did it before I could even eat BREAKFAST! He couldn’t wait until I had a chance to eat?” I shook my head sadly. “That’s almost as much of a crime as the kidnapping itself!”

The tree Liam’s hand had been resting on snapped like a twig, falling to the ground with a loud crash. Ignoring the carnage, he turned towards me, his face grim. “Who did this to you?”

“The kidnapping? He calls himself Adonis, I, however, have much more descriptive and fun colorful names for him.”

“Adonis…” Liam thought the name over for a moment. “Blonde fellow? Acts as if he’s the most important person in the universe?”

“That’s him!”

Liam growled under his breath. It was difficult to make out words, but I barely made out “Should have bit him harder.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, “You BIT him?”

“In another world. Wish I could snapped his neck, or at least ripped a limb off, rather than just take a bite...” He stopped, seemingly realizing what he just said, and looked over at me with an embarrassed expression. “Not that I’m normally biting people!”

I waved a hand at his distressed expression. “Don’t worry, I’d bite a few limbs off of the guy if I could right now. Especially with how hungry I am.” I laughed bitterly. “He better HOPE I get some food in me before I see him again!”

“Well, if Adonis the Great and Full of Himself was the one who put you here, then we have a bit of a problem. He’s the only one that I know of who has been able to open the portal to here.”

“Not that I want to go back anyways.”

“I told you, this place will kill you if you stay.” He shook his head at that. “First, we need to figure out food. Follow me.” He started walking deeper into the forest. I had to trot to keep up with his longer stride at first, but he quickly slowed down to allow me to walk at a regular pace. Even that was tiring, but I pushed forward. I looked at the forest, wondering what there would be to scavenge in such a dead place. Deciding to ask Liam, I tugged at his hand, noticing idly his ears turning red at the brief contact.

“What kind of food do you normally eat here?”

Liam blinked, seeming almost confused by the question. “There’s a few beasts… kind of. They should be edible for humans.”

“Okay. Cooked meat doesn’t sound too bad.”

“…Yes… cooked…because that’s how normal humans eat. I eat it like that too.”

Eyeing his dodgy appearance, I decided not to ask.

After a few minutes of walking, during which I became progressively more winded, we finally came to a large cave.

“Here’s my home!” Liam smiled proudly as we entered. “I carved it myself!” He proceeded to show me the fairly spacious cave with roughly made, mostly empty rooms, boasting about the thickness of the walls and the special rocks he had collected along the way.

I smiled at his boasting, the stared at the enormous claw marks in the carved stone walls, and silently looked away.

He pushed a roughly made stool close to me. “Here, have a seat.”

“Thank you!” I sat down, breathing heavily. “I’m beat!”

Liam’s expression was concerned as he watched me rest. “This place is already draining you, Bel. I’m worried what will happen if you stay here too long.”

“I’m fine!” I waved a hand tiredly. “Just need to catch my breath.”

He wasn’t reassured. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Maybe I’m just out of shape, have you thought about that?”

“Sure, that’s it.” Liam laughed quietly, almost seemingly in spite of himself. “Either way, while you rest, I’ll get you some food.”

“I’ll help…” I stood up, but my legs gave out beneath me and I started to fall. Liam, surprised, caught me, lifting me up in a careful hold. Silently, he moved deeper into the cave, entering one of the carved rooms. A single cot sat on a dirt floor, and he gently laid me down on it.

“Umm, thanks.” I looked up at Liam and paused saw an embarrassed expression, his eyes avoiding my own as he turned away.

“Rest here. I’ll bring you food.” He muttered quietly. “Cooked meat. Cooked.” He seemed to be reminding himself as he hurried out of the room, leaving me alone with just my thoughts and the sound of a rumbling, empty stomach.

I stared at the empty room for a few seconds, and then laughed. “What a cute villain.”

*** Soul transfer 28% complete. ***

______________________________

“Where are we?”

I looked up at the stranger who called himself Liam. His face was indifferent, his dark blue eyes cold as he shook his head slowly. “This isn’t a place for you. That’s all that matters. You should leave.”

“I can’t leave.” My voice cracked into a soft sob as I failed to hold back tears. “I’ve been betrayed, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“You can do what you like, but you shouldn’t stay here.” He tried to laugh, but the sound couldn’t really be a laugh, it was far too sad and bitter of a sound to be called something so cheerful. “Otherwise, you’ll die, just like everything else.”

_______________________

“Bel, wake up.”

I blinked, the vision in my dream fading away as Liam’s face came into view.

I thought about the scene I had seen, similar to my recent interaction with Liam, but different. It felt real, like a memory. I’ve been here before. I’ve met Liam before in this place. It’s the same… but different.

But what is different? If I had to pin down what had changed from what I had remembered, it was Liam and I. The “me” in that memory was far more devastated by Adonis’s betrayal. I on the other hand, was more pissed than sad, wanting to save my mental energy towards plotting my revenge rather than mourning the friendship.

Anyone who is willing to stab me in the back doesn’t deserve my tears.

The Liam in my memory was different too. He was harsher, colder. The current Liam’s eyes were gentler, filled with a deep strength that hadn’t been there before.

We were both stronger, but it was more than that. There was a connection between us, not present in the brief memory of him from before. Something had changed in us. Something that had happened to bring us here again. I had a feeling that as the “soul transfer” continued I would learn more. If only I could figure out what made it increase!

“Bel, are you okay?”

I smiled at Liam, trying to reassure him. “I’m awake.”

“Good! So I made you some food…” He held out some charred meat that had been roughly cut up into bite sized chunks. It did not look very appetizing.

“I’m sorry.” He noticed me looking the food over and put his head down. “It’s my first time cooking it like this.”

I tried not to wonder how he usually ate meat if he didn’t cook it and took the burnt food from his hands. “Thanks, I’m starving!”

I ate it slowly, surprised at the not-terrible taste. Finishing the portion, I gave Liam a thumbs up. “It’s good!”

“Really?” He lit up with excitement. “I’ll keep working on my cooking and make it even better!”

Support spouse. The thought came and went, the words seeming strange and familiar at the same time.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to track down some fruit on the edge of this realm that are still alive and edible.” He said with a grin as I continued to eat. “That should at least keep you going until that Adonis the Jerkwad can come back to save you.”

I put down the meat in my hand. “I mean it Liam, I’m not going with him.”

“But you’ll die here.”

I didn’t hesitate, meeting his dark blue gaze with my own. “I’d rather that then agree to his broken idea of fate.”

The word fate seemed to twist within Liam, and for the first time I saw rage instead of amusement deep within his eyes. “Fate.” He spat the word out like a curse.: “… So you want to stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Look you see we should talk about this before you say no…” I paused. “Did you just say ‘yes’?”

“I actually said ‘okay’ but essentially yes.”

“But… but…”

He was grinning again. “Did you want me to say ‘no’’? Or did you want to finish convincing me? Because I can pretend to say no if you want to say your piece.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll get hurt?”

He pointed at me. “You don’t want to be under Adonis the Asshat’s control, under the control of fate.” His finger pointed at himself. “I happen to really really like having you around.” He shrugged. “So I guess we’ll just have to come up with a way to help you survive here.”

“Just like that?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

I grinned. “Then it’s settled. I’m staying with you AND not dying!”

*** Soul transfer 29% complete. ***

Eyeing the silent glowing words in the air, and curious about their meaning, I went back to eating the meat, which seemed to taste even better than before.

_________________

After eating I fell asleep again, feeling drained. This time I didn’t dream, but when I woke up, I still felt tired. Liam wasn’t kidding when he said this place would drain my energy from me.

…

Where is Liam?

Looking around, I saw that Liam, who had been by my side since I first woke up in this realm, was gone. I felt momentarily lost, and a bit lonely. Shaking my head in mild frustration, I forced myself to stand, bracing a hand against a claw marked wall.

Bel… you’ve been just fine being alone in the higher realm before this. In fact, you used to be excited when you could ditch Adonis the Buttface and spend time by yourself! How can you be so affected by just a few minutes without Liam?

…

… as the uncomfortable silence stretched on, I twiddled my thumbs, feeling a strange urge to juggle.

BAM!

A loud noise sounded out from a different part of the cave. “Thank goodness for that!” I didn’t even care if it was a deadly monster that broke into the cave, it was better than sitting bored and silent. I walked out, holding onto the wall for support, my feet shuffling oddly as I forced them to move. Taking short pauses to catch my breath, I continued to go slowly to the source of the noise. When I exited the room into the large open common space of the cave, however, I stopped, this time due to shock rather than exhaustion.

A glowing portal had opened in the air. It was similar to the ones in the higher realm, but different in several ways. The edges glowed a blood red, and the whole space gave off a malicious energy. As I watched, the tear in space closed, leaving only the feeling of unease behind.

And on the floor beneath where the portal had hovered, lay Liam.

“Liam!” I stumbled forward, half kneeling, half falling towards him. He was curled in a ball, his clothing damp with sweat. His face was paler than it had been, his face drawn in a silent mask of pain.

What had he gone through in a lower realm? I knew from experience that injuries from the lower realms didn’t follow you to the higher realms.

But the pain did.

Before I could investigate further, Liam turned over onto his back, his blue eyes still showing pain… but triumph as well.

“I got it!”

“You got what?” I asked. “Beaten up?”

“No! … I mean yes I did but that’s not the point!” he laughed. “I tricked Dumbo into slipping up and telling me what we need!”

“Dumbo… you mean Adonis?”

“That’s what I said, Adonis the Great and Mighty Dumbo.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, having to sit down as even kneeling became too much. “So what did he tell you?”

“You don’t belong here… your very nature makes this realm reject you. Just as my nature, my energy allows me to live here trapped but fine. Which means you just need a different energy to survive in this world! One that won’t be sapped away. And who happens to possess an energy that this realm doesn’t feed off of?” His grin widened.

“You?”

“Yep!” He stood up, muttered “excuse me” and picked me up again, carrying me back to the cot in the other room.

“Wait! So if that’s the case why are you taking me back to bed? Can you just give me the energy? Also how do I get your energy? Do we have to do it on the bed?”

Liam turned a bright red. “No, it’s not what you think! I’m just letting you rest while I go prepare stuff…” He very quickly but gently set me down and rushed out of the room, as if afraid to hear anything else from me.

“Ummm…”I was asking in earnest, but my words seemed to make Liam misunderstand. Thinking for a moment, I groaned and covered my face in my hands, feeling the heat radiating off it “Stupid Bel.”

After what seemed like an eternity Liam returned with a cup. Still slightly embarrassed, I took it from him, looking at the liquid inside.

It was gold.

“What is this?”

“This?” He seemed confused by the question. “It’s blood.”

“No, it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

“The blood of what? A magical creature?”

Liam laughed uncomfortably. “No, just my blood.”

“Why is it gold?”

He hesitated at that. “Normal blood is a gold color. That’s what regular human blood looks like. Yep. That’s it.”

“No… it’s red.”

“Maybe you’re confused?” He flinched at my expression. “Maybe everyone has gold blood and it just seemed red at the time? Because of bad lighting?”

I watched him bend his head uncomfortably, looking almost scared that I would ask further. My heart ached.

“Sure, Liam. It’s just normal, human blood.” I smiled as I saw him sigh with relief out of the corner of my eye. “Now what do I do with it?”

“You drink it. Thus, the cup.” Seeing my blanching expression, he continued to explain. “You see, it’s how to transfer some of my energy to you. It won’t fix everything, but it will help with the worst of it. I promise it won’t hurt you!”

I believed him. “Thank you, Liam.” I tipped it back and drank it. It was warm, but strangely sweet.

Yeah, definitely not “normal human blood” even if the color didn’t make it obvious.

As I drank it, I felt a good portion of energy return to me. I was still a little tired, but at least I should be able to walk without falling or passing out. I stood up, turning around, and gave Liam a hug. “Thank you!”

He stiffened in shock, but reached out to hug me back before stepping away, blushing. “S-sure… anytime…”

We smiled at each other, and for the first time that I could remember, for the first time since I had woken up in the higher realm, I felt at peace.

I felt at home.

*** Soul transfer 30% complete. ***

#writing #please fix the story #pfts #i wrote something!#mostly interactions between the two #but i'm happy to let them talk again!#hope you guys enjoy #I'm posting this shorter part as an encouragement to myself to keep going

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morallyinept · 5 months

Text

A Christmas One Shot follow up to my Joel Miller series, Five Days.

Five Days Series Masterlist

☝🏻It would be ideal for you to read the series first if you haven't yet, as this one shot follows on from this series directly. You can read it as a stand alone, but some things might not make sense.

Summary: Months after the final events in Five Days, you and Joel prepare for the next event in your lives at the commune - your wedding day.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Word Count: 7.7k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M receiving/fingering/angst/mentions of death

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.

☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: An additional festive part, wrapping up Joel and Reader's journey, with a spangly Christmas bow on top. Thank you again to everyone who has read and enjoyed Five Days. Truly means the world. Happy Holidays! 🎄

Enjoy! 🖤

FIVE DAYS SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Your breath fogs the pane, a condensed, misty cloud as you breathe, surveying the view below in the main square.

The small commune square is adorned with makeshift festive decorations, remnants of the world that once thrived with the capitalist depiction of it all. Buzzing with a distinct holiday cheer, despite the lees of the post-apocalyptic world surrounding it just outside the gates.

Improvised string lights hang from makeshift structures with a welcome, twinkling glow, despite the sky still being light outside, albeit a little more grey now. The pleasant threat of more snowfall lingers in the distance.

In one corner, a group of children - some of whose faces you can put names to now - their laughter echoing through the air, work together to craft snowmen from the scarce patches of snow that still adorn the ground from the recent flurry.

This winter hasn’t been as harsh as you’d expected yet, but the winter of your discourse still remains heavy on your shoulders despite finding some semblance of daily normality here.

You even have a job now, tending to the horses. It’s basically mucking out and feeding, but you’re keen to learn and prove yourself as someone who can pull their weight. Plus, being parted from the black mare for too long, whom you rode to and from the outpost, leaves you with a sense of unease.

Her big, glassy eyes fill you with some comfort the more time you spend with her; those gentle head butts into your own, when it all gets a bit much, reassures you she feels your pain and shares it with you. You’ve since discovered her name is Ashen.

You watch, curiously, as a trellis of flowers is lifted by several men and settled into place. A graceful arch, fashioned from salvaged and repurposed wood, and built and sanded down by Joel himself as a project over the last few weeks - a gift for your wedding day. It's now decorated in vines and dried wild flowers, preserved in their seasonal beauty and uniqueness.

You remember rubbing salve into his splintered hands in the evenings, massaging around his stubby thumbs and calloused palms as he winced and groaned at the rawness fading away before those hands would grip onto your skin and leave you gasping with fading imprints. He really is so good with his hands…

“Here,” Sal’s voice rouses you from your heated reverie and the view outside.

Turning, her hair is pinned neatly and she looks younger somehow. More at ease, more feminine than you’ve ever seen her. Flaming red hair matches her lips and her eyes sparkle.

You smile, taking the delicate lace that she holds out for you, and you step into it, allowing her to button you up.

“Are you nervous?” She asks you as her nimble fingers work. Your eyes are still transfixed out the window as rows of unmatching chairs are lined up by working bodies.

Seems like the whole commune is involved in contributing to the preparations.

You shake your head. “No. Feels right.” You say, agreeing with the stringent relief that prevents any butterflies from flapping their sickly wings. “Feels like it should have already happened, years ago.” You confess, smiling as you smooth down the lace around your cuffs.

“Joel’s a lucky man.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m the lucky one.” Luck, despite everything, seemed to have had your back all along. Although the paths it led you down to find it, you’re not so sure about.

“Let me get a look at you.” Sal says as she steps back. You turn to face her and she sighs in awe.

“Christy has outdone herself. This dress is stunning.” Sal murmurs, her eyes glistening.

“She really has.” You say, admiring the mid-length, hand-made, gown that sits snugly against your body. Made from scraps of lace, Christy, the resident seamstress, has managed to make a dress that’s perfectly suited for the occasion. Simple, elegant, but meaningful.

“Look,” Sal says, adjusting the mirror and you catch sight of yourself.

The lace is delicate and stitched with love and envious talent, and weaves across the front of your collarbone and down your arms. There’s a slight dip in the back as it hangs a little lower down your spine before cascading into a waterfall of buttons, some mismatching, some with sparkly gems in the centre, but it’s forgiven and actually adds to the charm.

The dress is simply more than you ever thought possible, more than you probably deserve. More than you ever thought you’d have in this lifetime.

“You’re beautiful.” Sal says, dabbing at her eyes.

“Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”

She laughs, a little choke being swallowed down. “I just wish Kelper was here to see you like this.”

“Sal-” You begin with a choking lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” You shake your head. “I wish he could too.”

You spend a moment regarding one another; her eyes wandering into the painful territory of yours as you both recall the eviscerating loss.

Both thriving in it for a few moments, sharing in the grief that has lingered in the marrow of your bones for the past five months or so. Paused, sometimes, in that moment when Tommy relayed over the walkie-talkie the devastation that Kelper had perished in the fight against the infected horde.

It still seems like yesterday and centuries ago. And you were mad, hopping mad with him for a while after your return to the commune; mad that he could be so foolish, so selfish, as to leave you all without him.

But with time, taking each day, each sunrise and sunset, one foot in front of the other, the anger dissipated into raw grief. And it walks alongside you now, linking arms with all the other’s you've lost in your life.

Another name on a chalkboard above a fireplace, another ribbon tied to a tree. Another splinter in your heart.

While the anticipation of marrying Joel fills you with inexplicable joy and pertinent relief, the absence of Kelper, casts a malignant shadow, a blot on the sun.

The glint of excitement in your eyes is tempered by a soft sadness that hovers like a wailing banshee that’s attached itself to your side permanently it feels; it won't stop screaming in your ear. A tribute to the friend, partner, even soulmate, who had been your anchor in tumultuous times of endurance and survival.

Yet, as you stand ready to embark on this new chapter with Joel in a world that still seems so uncertain at times, still so… frightening, despite being safe behind reinforced walls, you find some strength in the enduring gravity of love.

Kelper's memory, a guiding presence now in some ways when he talks to you when you most need it, whispers words of encouragement, reminding you that even in loss, love persists in this broken world and it’s worth finding and clinging onto.

It’s the reason you’re still alive.

And it's something you hold on to, even if your fingers ache from gripping it too tightly.

Even when the grief consumes and you sob unabashed and uncontrollably into Joel’s broad shoulders in the middle of the night.

And he holds you through it, anchoring you and steering you back to yourself as you work through it; a golden compass bringing you home when you lose your way in the dark.

Sal picks up the make-up brush and hands it to you with a gentle smile as you dab at your eyes, and you chuckle.

“I love you,” she says gently, nodding.

You pull her towards you and cradle her tightly.

“I love you, more.” You say, clinging on and wondering if you’ll ever find the strength to let her go again.

“Well, I’ll be fuckin’ damned.” Tommy says, taking off his Stetson as he ambles into the room.

“Don’t ya say it.” Joel warns with a frown.

“Ya don’t know what I was goin’ to say.” Tommy smiles with an adept grin.

“Yeah. I do.” Joel says, turning, his hands fiddling with the tie.

Joel regards his younger brother narrowly as he steps into the room and bounds up to him. “Was gonna say ya look handsome, is all.”

“Yeah, right.” Joel scoffs. ”Help me with this thing, will ya? It’s all fuckin’ knotted up to hell.” Joel gruffs with a heavy sigh, tempting to forgo the tie entirely, lest he strangle himself with it first.

“Ya comb your hair?” Tommy asks, and Joel ducks as he goes to swipe at it.

“Leave off.” He says, checking it’s still in place.

For once, his unruly curls have been slicked down and back neatly, silver streaking through them that appears metallic in the wet gel, and seems more prominent these days.

As Joel dons the smartest plaid shirt he owns, and his standard pair of jeans that have seen better days, a mixture of emotions play across his weathered features despite his hardest at trying to mask them. It’s getting harder these days to keep it up.

The nervous excitement of marrying you, the love of his life, is palpable, but it dances alongside a more subdued undercurrent of opaque reflection.

“Ya nervous?” Tommy asks, as he straightens up Joel’s tie. He sees how his face is pulled tight in that ever present frown.

Joel nods, then shrugs. “Were you? When you n’ Maria tied the knot?”

“Was shittin’ myself.” Tommy admits with a bashful smile.

“Why?”

Tommy shrugs. “It’s forever, man.”

“But, that’s the point, ain’t it?” Joel queries after a moment’s pause.

“Yeah… I dunno. Maybe.”

“Ya regret it?” Joel asks, peering at his younger brother who still seems to be ageing at a much slower rate than Joel; it makes him grind down on his back molars.

Tommy immediately shakes his head, slick oiled curls tousling as he does so.

“No. S’not what I meant. I love Maria n’ I wanted to marry her. Just feels… different now, y’know? Like, to how it would‘ve been back then. Means somethin’ more than just vows now, I think. Somethin’... profound.”

“Profound, huh?” Joel snorts. He never thought he'd hear Tommy say something like that. Didn’t even know he knew the meaning of the word.

“Yeah, like serendipity or some shit. Wasn't lookin’ for it, n’ there she was. She makes me a better man, Joel.” Tommy says quietly.

He glances briefly at his brother’s eyes, the same dark eyes they share from their mother, and then back to the tie. “Ya lady do that for you?”

“Mm. She does.” Joel agrees, his fingers buzzing slightly at the thought.

“Shit, what did ya do with this thing?” Tommy chuckles, as he fights with the knot.

“I dunno. First time I’ve ever had to wear one.” Joel grits.

“Ya tellin’ me.” Tommy snorts.

Joel remains quiet, thoughtfully contemplating. Thinking about back before the outbreak, and what it would’ve been like if he’d married you whilst you were both still young and fresh faced. When he might've known how to tie a fuckin’ tie by himself.

And of course, he had intended to, even brought a ring; spent ages picking it out, but he never got to give it to you.

You’d left.

He briefly wonders what happened to that ring, where it is now on the planet.

A season of what ifs and unanswered scenarios plague his thoughts with spiked edges. Would you have even said yes back then? Would you have lasted, or would a quick divorce have followed?

He knows it’s fruitless to try and unpick it all whilst Tommy battles with the knot that now feels tighter against his throat, but Joel’s always been a brooding thinker, much to his detriment at times.

But he can't help but think about the journey that’s brought him to this day - the years of separation from you, the trials faced, the things he’s done in the darkest chapters of his life. The loved ones he’s lost along the way.

Sarah’s face flashes in his mind, her soft eyes and gentle smile beaming at him, and he bows his head, sighing.

“Y’alright?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters.

He takes in a slow, deep breath, steadying himself against the swirl of emotions he can already feel lingering in the dark corners, brewing, flexing their claws ready to tear deep gashes in his skin. They never really leave.

Tommy finishes manipulating the tie and he taps Joel’s shoulder affectionately when it’s done.

Joel turns to the small, chipped shaving mirror to get a better look at it, and hums in a mirthed satisfaction. “It’ll do.” He supposes.

“M’happy for you, Joel.” Tommy says, and Joel glances up at him through the mirror. “Ya deserve it, some peace. A good woman to come home to who’ll rub ya feet.”

“She hates feet.” Joel states rather po-faced.

Tommy smiles, breaking into an airy chuckle and so does Joel. The chortles between them sounding so foreign despite their intensity as they mutate into wheezed laughter.

And then Joel does something he feels like he hasn’t done for a long time, and should probably do more often.

He pulls his younger brother Tommy into a tight, binding hug.

“I love ya, man.” Tommy says.

“You too.” Joel mutters.

“C’mon, let’s get ya married.” Tommy states, clapping his back like thunder.

Tables adorned with scavenged tablecloths showcase a humble feast of canned goods, preserved fruits, and perhaps a few hunted game offerings in the Tipsy Bison.

The survivors of the commune, dressed in their best makeshift attire, share muted stories, laughter, and the precious company of one another, forming a close-knit family that has thrown up two fingers in the face of adversity as they pack out the chairs just outside the bar, some standing at the back of the makeshift aisle as the whole commune comes to bear witness.

The nip in the air has them huddling in coats and scarfs, but the atmosphere is incredibly warm and inviting.

Guthrie stands at the head of the trellis, bible in hand and in his smartest pressed shirt ready to officiate in a world where laws are just spoken words now instead of legal documents.

But it doesn’t matter, because in matters of the heart, it's more than binding.

Tommy and Joel wait in front of him. Maria sits with her baby bouncing on her knee, cooing quietly. Max looks on from the opposite side of the trellis, wearing an excited grin that makes his jaw ache.

Hands clasped in front, Joel’s fingers twitch as he clears his throat nervously.

“Not long now, brother.” Tommy says, clapping him on the back again, and Joel swallows thickly through the heavy wind of it.

As Joel stands at the makeshift altar beneath the trellis arch he’d spent days carving intricately, adorned with the dried flowers collected by good natured souls, the weight of the moment presses upon him.

The air, usually filled with the festive sounds of the commune, now feels dense and stifling around him. The tie feels tight once more at his throat as he swallows with a now dry, grazed windpipe.

The trepidation that’s lingered in the corners of his mind crystallises into an overwhelming wave of anxiety. And he hears that little voice creep up again from behind his shoulders.

She’s not coming, Joel. She doesn’t love you. She could never love you.

His heart races, the sound echoing in his ears like a distant drumbeat. The gentle flutter of muted conversations around him and the soft whispers of the cool, crisp breeze seems to amplify, creating a disorienting cacophony that pierces his eardrums.

Joel's breaths become shallow, each inhale a struggle against an invisible force tightening around his chest. Each breath in seems to scrape against his throat, the air refusing to fill his lungs with ease like it once did.

Joel's hands, usually steady and weathered by years of survival, betray him as they tremble uncontrollably. Eyes fixed on the path where you’ll soon walk towards him, Joel feels the world closing in, seeming to warp and contort, and the edges of his vision blur like a watercolour painting in the rain.

The trellis arch, once a symbol of hope and new beginnings containing his blood, sweat and tears, now seems to loom overhead, threatening to crush him; its shadow dancing with an unsettling rhythm.

The vibrant colours of the flowers mutate into a disorienting palette, dying and crisping before his eyes, and the string lights flicker like lightning, their glow suddenly too harsh, too bright.

Dizzy, he sways as he clutches at his chest, and feels Tommy pressing up against him, like a weighted tackle.

“Joel! Joel!”

His voice is distant, sounding further and further away as Joel spirals, the ground coming up fast; his knees cracking against it.

She could never love you, Joel! Not after everything you’ve done!

Rampant beads of sweat form on Joel's forehead, his hands clammy as they tightly grip on the edges of Tommy’s jacket as he wheezes.

The weight of the moment, the culmination of years of separation and the scars etched into your shared history, bare down on him.

The fear of losing this newfound happiness seizes him in a vice grip until it chokes the life out of him and it all goes black.

Told you Joel.

Told you that you were going to die alone...

He wakes to the sound of continual beeping in his ears.

Beep-beep-beep-beep...

Heavy headed and with a really dry mouth, he sits up to feel a hand pressing gently against his bare sternum.

Following the path of it, the arm adorned in faded lace, he finds your face, pressed tight in its worry and concern.

He did it, he let you down. Completely and irrevocably, just like he knew he would.

“Slowly,” you ease, as he sits himself upright against a pillow that feels like it's barely there.

“Don’t fuss, m’alright.” Joel sighs, glancing down at his chest, shirt open and no sign of his damned tie. “S’all this?” He tweaks at the wires curiously stuck to his chest.

“They thought you might have had a heart attack.” You say, gravely.

“What?” His eyes widen and snap to yours.

“It was a panic attack, Joel.” You say, softly. “You’re okay.”

He frowns, his eyes shying away from yours. He feels your fingers knotting into his hand, thumb stroking reassuringly over the thick gristle of his knuckles.

“I ruined our day,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“No. You didn’t." You shake your head. "Hey, look at me.” You sway.

“I can’t. M’not supposed to see ya yet.”

“Joel. Look at me.” You press, delicately.

Slowly, he finds the courage to face you, head on, and he can’t believe what he sees. You, staring at him with the same adoration you’ve had etched into your features since the very beginning.

From that moment your eyes met when you were flighty, little things, when the world was kinder and had less teeth.

The same way you looked at him when you bumped into him outside The Tipsy Bison all those months ago, stunting him and making him believe that a bland, beige thing such as a miracle could really exist.

You, looking at him with those same adoring eyes when he made love to you again, after all those years that had passed between you. Decades of swampy regret and missing pieces that no-one else could really fit into or fill; connected with you again on some other level that could only transcend his mere understanding.

And he knows he's undeserving. That even though he shouldn’t listen to it, that insidious little voice is right. He doesn't deserve you looking at him like this.

But he never wants you to stop.

“Ya look… so beautiful, darlin’,” he chokes out.

You smile and pat his stacked chest. “You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr Miller.”

You lean forward and place a kiss on his temple, just below the spikey, flower-shaped scar.

Joel closes his eyes, savouring the feel of you, your breath settling into his pores. Inhaling the smell of fragrant soap on your skin; the scent of the lavender perfume that’s made in the commune and dessciates the pillows in your bed.

“Ya got all prettied up for me.” He says looking up at you, fingers brushing against the side of your cheek with a dusting of powder to accentuate your skin tone, and a light sheen of highlighter that makes you glow. “Ya glowin’.” He confirms, awestruck.

His lips find yours, tasting the balm on them. Your fingers scratch in the waves behind his ears; his once slicked back hair now ruffled and fluffy again behind his ears.

“Everyone knows? They saw, I-”

You smile, softly. “It’s okay, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Joel. They were all worried, because they care about you.”

He frowns again and squeezes your hand. “M’sorry. Don’t want ya to worry.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with my worry.” You smile.

“S’not too late, ya know.” He says, tentatively with a small voice.

“Too late for what?”

He sighs heavily. He turns towards the machine that’s beeping annoyingly in his ear and jabs at a button, but it doesn’t silence it.

“If you even think about saying what I think you’re going to say, you’ll be spending months in here, Joel. Multiple broken bones.” You warn and he shakes his head, unable to contain the small smirk that threatens to tear up the corners of his mouth.

“M’not gonna say it.”

“Good.”

“But, it’s not too late.” He reminds you anyway with a gruff peep.

“Is that what you want?” You question, your heart is already trying to make a run for it out of any orifice that will allow its escape.

“God, no.” He looks at you sincerely, eyes deep and reassuring in their richness. "I always want you."

“Then stop being a dork.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Dork…”

You squeeze his hand and he places his other on top of them both.

“What’d we do now?” He queries and you can still see the weight he carries behind his eyes.

“I have an idea. Can you walk?”

Joel nods as he pulls off the sticky patches from his chest, and the infernal beeping finally stops.

Ashen comes to a halt at your gentle command, and Joel helps you off after dismounting the tan stallion that he rode with you up to the outpost those few months ago.

Since then, settling into a gentle sway of life in the commune had been a constant that you never knew you needed, or missed so much, as you began building a new life with Joel by your side.

But there was a mild fidget in you that couldn’t be settled; a part of you that always remained on alert, and Joel sensed it in you because that same sense lingered in him too.

Life experience had taught you both not to rest so easily, to leave a limb out of the tub and not fully submerge; to leave a backpack stocked with supplies by the door in case you had to go quickly in the night.

Old habits die hard.

But shared with Joel made them easier to accept, to shoulder the weight equally instead of alone. It could be left placed and fuzzy, in the peripherals to fade out for a while, but it was always there.

You both walk a few paces up a short incline, your dress is covered by a coat and scarf, and Joel’s shirt has been rebuttoned with a sweater and a coat of his own thrown over the top.

You feel the heavy weight of the handgun in your pocket, knocking against your thigh. Joel’s own is holstered to his waist under his coat.

The wind is a little harsher in its nip up here, but the view is worth it.

Looking down into the valley, the Wyoming mountains spread out in the distance with their snowy caps like shark's jaws on the landscape; the commune seems like a tiny dot in the centre of the horizon.

“It’s beautiful, no?” You say wistfully, as the wind pulls tendrils from your styled hair that stick to your lips.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Joel says, his arms wrapping around you. You feel him plant a kiss on the side of your cheek and it warms you, from your toes up.

“Look,” you say to him, and you pull him gently with you towards the shelter of a large tree, its branches, almost shed full of its leaves, swaying rhythmically in the breeze.

Under the canopy of the majority of its stripped branches, your fingers place Joel’s onto the rough ridges of the bark, trailing them towards some carvings.

“What's this?” He asks as he studies the letters.

“You made the trellis for me, for us in our garden. Well, this is my wedding gift to you.” You say with a warm smile.

Joel runs his fingers over the letters, a familiar S as he reads the name Sarah carved into the wood. Underneath, another name is carved. Kelper.

“This is what ya did with my “missin'” tools, hmm?” He queries with a cocked brow.

You grin coyly. “If I told you my evil plan, you'd have put the kibosh on it.”

“S’like ya know me so well,” Joel nods. “Ya came out here by yourself?” He frowns.

“I’m a big girl, Joel.” You remind him and he reluctantly nods after gritting his teeth.

He glances up to see ribbons fluttering in the breeze, and reaches up to feel their silkiness between his fingers.

“Ya did this, for me?”

You nod. “This is the highest tree in the valley. I’ve been all over this valley the past few months trying to find the perfect one. I was safe… Sal was with me.” You assure him when you see his nostrils flare.

You turn to look at the names on the tree. “They’re both looking down on us, Joel. From all the way up here. Sarah and Kelper.”

“Darlin’,” he says, as your eyes mist over.

He reaches for your hand and pulls you in close. He looks at the names on the tree, smiling into your hair as he imagines Sarah indeed looking down on him and smiling proudly.

At least, he hopes he’ll be able to make her proud going forward - the past, he’s doubtful about that.

“Ya amaze me every day.” Joel says.

“I just wanted a place that was ours, to remember them. They should both be here today. And this way... it’s like they are.”

Joel nods. “Marry me, here.”

“Right here, now?”

He nods as he strokes your arms. “Yeah… feels perfect. With them.”

You smile at him, wondering how you made it. Wondering how life, despite it's cruelty, had given you this perfect morsel of happiness.

“Have you got the rings?” You ask him.

He fishes into his jeans pocket and opens his palm to reveal two gold bands. Both a little misshapen from years of wear.

“I wonder who they belonged to,” you say, smiling at the metal hoops looking so dainty and small in his gargantuan palm.

“Two people that were very much in love, I reckon.”

“Yeah. They were. Utterly mad for each other.” You agree.

“Probably drivin' each other mad too,” he smirks.

“You like it when I keep you on your toes.” You remind him starkly and with a brewing grin.

“Mm-hm.” He murmurs. “Like a hole in the head.”

You reach into his palm and take the bigger ring and take his opposite hand in yours.

You glance at the tree for a moment, smiling, remembering. Then you look up at Joel. Look at the man who carried you on through this world, even if he wasn’t physically there for most of it.

“Joel,” you begin, letting the words flow freely. “I never thought in my wildest dreams we’d be here. I never thought that all those years of fighting, surviving… enduring. I never thought that they’d lead me back to you. Fate sure is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“I sure as hell ain’t laughin’.” He says and you smirk.

You place the ring on his thick finger, sliding it all the way down. “I love you.” You say looking at him. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you, until I die. And even then, I’ll still love you, Joel.”

Blushing, he smiles. Then he takes your hand, the remaining ring poised at the tip of your finger.

“Darlin’... I don’t think there’s anythin’ I could say that would make it feel truly real. Still feels like a dream sometimes. But then I wake up, and ya there beside me. And I don’t know how that happened, not really. It’s somethin’ I just can’t even wrap my head around, y’know?” His voice carries a blend of warmth and sincerity.

“I know.” You smile.

“Two lucky son’s o’ bitches. But you’re real, you’re here. I found ya. God willing, I fuckin’ found ya again. And I promise to cherish ya, darlin’, in all ya strength n’ vulnerability. Your stubbornness-”

You giggle and he smiles, tucking a wisp of wayward hair behind your ear.

“You're my home in this unpredictable world… I love ya, darlin’. Not just for who ya are, but for who we've become together." He gulps, holding back a choke as you watch his eyes glisten.

"Ya make... ya make me a better man. The kind of man I wanna be for ya. M'bound to ya. Ya have me bound to you, forever.”

“Joel,” you say as your own eyes water, and he bends to kiss you, taking your lips in his as the wind whips around you both, and pulls you tight into his warmth. Pulls you deeper into his heart.

I knew he was a good man, Goose.

You glance over Joel’s shoulder to see Kelper standing there leaning against the tree grinning at you.

You smile, nodding gently at your old friend before closing your eyes, tears falling from them like tiny diamonds scattered over Joel's shoulder, and clinging on tighter to him.

Joel inhales the scent of your hair, holding you hard in his arms as the breeze billows around you both and he swears he's never been more elated, more satiated in his bones and flesh.

If he were to die now, he would die happy, and it's a thought that now comforts him, whereas for so long, it's been one that terrified him.

He lets himself bask, lets himself wander further into this pastel dream and stay there, ruminating for a few more moments in the calm bliss of your arms.

Dad.

He’s roused, eyes snapping open as he hears the familiar voice; a voice he had thought he had forgotten, and then a face he was convinced had slipped his mind also is there, smiling at him.

Familiar eyes, that scent of coconut shampoo filling his nose, and frizzy hair that he could never tame in the way she liked when she was smaller, billows in the wind.

Sarah, his daughter, is smiling at him, clear as day, a few feet in front, and he feels it lurch in his chest.

So do you, as you feel his body stiffen under your embrace, and he steps forward, confused to be met with nothing again.

“Did you…?” Joel murmurs out, his voice lost on a confused gasp.

You turn to see what he’s looking at so intently, but there’s nothing there except the whisper of the wind.

“You alright?” You ask, pulling away from him to look at his face, eyes staring a little way down the hill and filling with water that he frantically blinks away.

“Yeah.” Joel turns to you, stunned and speechless for a few moments. The familiar, expected stab in his heart rearing its ugly head fails to ice him over.

Instead, he feels awash with a sincere warmth, from where it emanates, he’s not entirely sure.

“Y’know what? For the first time in a hell of a long time, I really think I am.” He says.

You smile at him as you nuzzle into his neck.

“Jesus…” he mutters as he wraps his arms back around you. “Thought I saw I fuckin’ ghost for a minute there.”

You smile, knowing that he saw what he needed to. The same as you do when you need it.

He rubs at your back. “S’getting a little cold, we should head back soon.”

“Can we stay up here, just a little while longer?” You ask gently, as you both watch the winter sun setting slowly behind the mountains.

“We can do whatever ya want, darlin’.” Joel murmurs, smiling into your shoulder.

By the time you and Joel made it back, the celebrations had moved into the Tipsy Bison as the expected snow started to billow from the sky.

Candles flicker on the tables, creating an intimate atmosphere that contrasts with the harsh wilderness beyond the commune's borders. Handcrafted Christmas decorations and salvaged ornaments add a touch of festivity to the surroundings, creating a unique blend of the old and the new world.

As the night unfolds, Joel and you move through the crowd, your smiles radiant with the joy of your unity as everyone wants a piece of you both.

The celebrations carry on with a mixture of traditional and improvised festivities - a dance floor, a communal song led by Max and a beaten guitar, with a surprisingly melodic voice which awes you at his secret talent. Guthrie dances with you, twirling you around as you smile and clap.

The large Christmas tree in the corner twinkles with gold, glittery lights that reflect in your eyes as Joel looks into them as he sways gently with you.

Impromptu speeches that celebrate love, survival, and the strength of the human bond follow with laughter, and Tommy leads a toast to the both of you with minimal embarrassment for Joel, much to his relief.

But despite the laughter, the warmth, you catch Joel’s face a little later, and the familiar need for a moment of respite creeps over his features as the frown tugs further at his smile somewhat as the night moves on.

His smile hides years of pain underneath it, convincing you he's fine when you ask him. Some days, he believes it himself.

But he doesn't want to spoil this for you, drag you away, but he also wants to have you to himself; be selfish and attenuate that need that flourishes hot in his veins.

He searches you out as you’re engaging with Sal, Max and Guthrie, and catches your eye, quelling everything loud around him.

In the middle of the chaos, there’s you.

You know him too well, even after three decades of separation, you can still read him without words, and you decide too, that you’ve had enough of smiles and wine.

You both slip out, leaving your expanded family and friends to celebrate as late as they want without you both.

In the secluded corners of your home, away from the festivities, you and Joel allow the weight of your tumultuous journey to fall free from your shoulders and leave it outside.

The echoes of the after-party seem distant, drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ears.

Once inside the warmth of your shared home, the safety and privacy of the walls Joel had built once upon a time with his bare hands, those hands of his take to your waist and pull you towards him as he attaches himself to your lips.

He dips and slants, moaning softly against your mouth; pulling your head closer to his with a giant, swamping hand, slipping his other around you and drawing you closer against his taught body that always has a slight tremble to it.

Behind him, the lock on the door clicks shut as you reach for it. Your heart rate speeds up as you melt into him, skin melding together like melted candle wax.

You and Joel are very alone and very close, pushed up tight against one another; bodies reacting and heating up. His broad chest crushes into your own as you feel the increase in his heartbeat against your own rib cage.

You run your hand down his chest towards his groin, searching out that thick hardness you can already feel pressing against you.

Then, you feel him lifting you; arms swooping under you and pulling your feet off the floor.

“Joel!” You squeal as he heaves and steps forward.

"It’s tradition.” He says, stepping forward quickly towards the bedroom.

"Your back!" You wail, giggling.

You cling on around his neck, and he clumsily falls with you onto the bed laughing.

Your hands find his face as he lays on top of you, staring intently into his deep brown eyes.

“What?” He questions as you trace his lips with your fingers, watching as he kisses the tips of them.

“You’re so fucking strong. Do I ever tell you that?” You say with awe.

“Sometimes… not nearly enough.” He chuckles.

“Lay back, old man.” You say, winking at him.

“Oi, less of the old.” He says as you shuffle out from underneath him.

“It’s hot.” You say.

He watches you crawl over him. “Ya wanna be in charge do ya, darlin’?”

“Mm, is your back gonna let you lead?”

He scoffs, and then nods in defeat, retreating hastily backwards on the bed as you straddle him.

“Didn’t think so…” You smile, as you kiss him.

He slips his tongue inside your mouth, the remnants of a few whiskeys in celebration lace his gums.

His hands slide down your waist to cup your ass, squeezing it; pressing you against his crotch as you kiss him deeply, leaning over him. He breaks off, burying his face in the soft column of your throat that feels clammy already with anticipation.

He licks the salt of it, scraping his teeth against the soft perfumed flesh there, licking and nipping, sucking it between his lips hungrily.

"Ya too good to me, darlin’."

You keep your eyes on his face, noticing the way the tip of his tongue teases the middle of his upper lip as he looks hungrily at you. How his Adam's apple bobs with each thick swallow in anticipation.

How those deep, trusting eyes lance at you as you unbutton his shirt.

Joel watches as you trail wet, lingering kisses over his skin; skin mottled with freckles and silvery hairs, a liver spot here or there.

How you kiss and lick each scar delicately that he bears; the one on his hip from where he was shot at on outbreak day. The one where he was gutted trying to save Ellie from raiders.

He shivers as you explore every weak spot he’s ever had, birthing new life into the dead skin.

Watches keenly as you run your tongue around his nipples, sucking over them gently as he hisses in response. Shudders as you kiss down the centre towards his navel, swollen with age around his tummy that you lavish more affection and desire all over, running your cheeks against it.

Joel hitches his breath as you unbuckle his belt and free him from his jeans.

He’ll never get tired of watching you do that, of taking his throbbing, thick cock so slowly and hungrily into your mouth; hearing you whine in satisfaction as you taste him again.

Feeling how it tingles down to the root of him as he slides down your throat and packs you out until you can’t breathe.

He’s moaning like a dying man as you suck him with eyes that meet his with unspoken praise and worship.

He reaches down, weaving through your hair, letting it fall free of the pins that held it precariously in place all day. Combs through it as you lick up the length of him and suckle on the head of his cock, feeling it throughout your own body, the heat travelling in the streams of your arteries.

“Take this off,” he says tugging at the hem of your dress, and you’re soon naked on top of him, bodies growing warm and slick together as you kiss deeply and grind subtly against one another.

“Too long since I was inside ya.” He laments into your ear in a hot whisper.

“It’s only been a couple of days, Joel.” You smirk.

“Too fuckin’ long.” He corrupts.

He runs his thumb over your stiff nipple and cups your breast gently inside his warm palm. "Ya so beautiful, darlin'." He breathes.

He reaches down between your legs and slides his finger against your clit, watching as you jolt with the gentlest of brushes.

“So sensitive, aren’t ya?” He cajoles.

“Mmm,” you nod, hands on his chest as he slips in; finger stroking inside your wet folds.

He pulls out and slips another one in, marvelling at how you arch and mewl above him as he pumps slowly.

You wind you hips, pushing against his fingers as he fucks you keenly with them. Pressing deep against the right spots and stroking you closer with each curl of them.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ beautful.” He groans. "All for me, all mine."

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, fingers gripping into his chest meat as you feel yourself bunching tight already.

Grabbing his cock, he guides his engorged head between your puffy, wet pussy lips in place of his fingers.

“If ya gonna come, ya come on my cock, darlin’.” He pushes in gently, thick head notching into you slowly, letting you suck him in. Sliding slowly and purposefully so you can feel all of him.

Savouring, appreciating, falling further with you.

“Joel!” You gasp, the pinch of him still present as he enters; a sensation that’ll never falter.

He reaches up, mouth grazing over your breast, nipple between his teeth and gently sucks as you slide down the full length of him, taking him in deep, where he belongs.

Joel belongs inside of you.

He pulls you up, large hands crossed around your lower back as he lifts you up and down on his cock, sliding almost the full way out, leaving just the head precariously lipped inside you, until he brings you back down onto the full hilt of him, bottoming out each time he does it.

He grunts with you; warm breaths pelted into your skin like ink blots where they spread, staining you with him.

He begins slow, measured thrusts up into you; you push back, grinding with him, the tightness of your hole now slickly wonderful around his thick cock. He draws out a few inches at a time before pushing in deep, to the sound of plentiful, needy whines from you.

“Fuck, ya feel so good around me, darlin’,” he groans into your chest.

Laying back, giant hands caressing your breasts, he lets you work, lets you take control. Watches keenly, as you ride him deeply, with a heated fever as the sweat starts to slick down your back.

His hips push up to meet you when he senses you’re losing it, losing your control as your gasps pitch higher, becoming more frantic in their raspiness as your cunt tightens around him.

“Joel!” You gasp like you’re sobbing; the cadence stripped from your throat as he grunts in agreement with you at how good it feels, how good it feels to have you on the end of his cock soaking him with all the pleasure that he feeds you.

And it’s something he’ll never tire of. He’ll never want to stop giving you this, giving you all of him.

“There ya go, darlin’...” He ushers. "Ya close, ain't ya?"

“Mmm, yeah…” You can feel it, that glitter starter to gather under your eyelids, the bones in your spine pulling tight and ready to crack open the moment that hot bolt travels down it and into your core.

He winds you tighter around that spool, the slack almost unbearable. Your toes curl inwards, your thighs shake and your whole body tenses up.

"Come for me!" Joel growls, encouragingly.

Over and over he fucks into you, his fingers digging into your hips where they’ll leave bruises that he’ll kiss later.

Your voice is shaking as you stutter incoherently, a babbling mantra of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel…”

“Ya keep sayin’ my name. This cock s'makin’ ya feel really good, hmm?” He grunts into your face.

“So good, Joel… Oh my God, don’t stop!”

“Are ya gonna come for me? Ya gonna come all over my cock, darlin’?”

“Yeah… I’m coming. I’m coming, Joel! Fuck!”

A warm, desperate shudder pours out of you at his command; your entire body convulses, fingers gnarl around his skin. You cry out, your lungs disintegrate into mottled dust as it leaves you; punching that glitter out of your back once more into the air for you to breathe in and choke on the metallic fragments.

“That’s it. Give it to me… All over me. Like that. Don't stop comin’."

His lips chase yours, brushing sweetly against them with a peck and smooch to remind you he’s still there; your tether, no matter how high you fly above him.

You clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into the tanned skin as he pushes you back down on his cock, filling you up again. The constant symphony of his pants fill your ears, that subtle weakness in them; that tremor at the back of his throat as he draws closer to his finish.

“That, right there… fuck,” he grunts.

“That feel good?” You groan as your hips swivel intently.

“Yeah… s’way ya look at me like this.” He moans.

“How do I look at you, Joel?” You breathe.

“Like ya love me.” His voice cracks at the sound of it in the air. The realisation, the acceptance, The finality of his being.

“I do love you. I love you so fucking much.” You gasp.

“I love ya too, darlin’. Fuck, do I love you! Shit!” He strains, his muscles pulling tight, the tension in his jaw locking.

“Come for me, fill your wife up, Joel.” You urge.

"Fuck!"

He yanks you towards him, face tumbling into him as he catches you in a kiss as he whines against your lips as he comes deep inside you. Soft whines flow from his plush mouth into yours as he twitches and empties.

His thrusts gently still to an eventual stop, feeling the warmth of his spend flooding around his cock inside you.

He kisses you intently and for what feels like a lifetime, just connected to him; breathing him in down into your respiratory system where he'll always stay.

You stroke away the sweaty, grey curls from the sides of his face and temples, and he smiles at you; a smile he saves only for you, with glittery eyes.

You glance at the clock on the bedside table reading just after midnight, and smile excitedly at him.

“You know what day it is today, right?” You query with a grin, resting your chin on your hands as you lay across his chest, still connected with him inside you.

“Right now, I don’t even know my damned name.” Joel breathes with a heavy chortle.

You feel him slip out as he laughs, the wet warmth of him dripping out of you. “Jesus, ya kill me.”

“It’s Christmas Day.” You whisper to him, and he runs his thumb against your lower lip, watching as you kiss it gently.

“Well then, Merry Christmas, Mrs Miller.” He smirks, crushing you further into his chest.

You beam back at him, finally understanding your place in the world.

Finally understanding why you endured and survived as you take his hand in yours, the glint of your mutual wedding rings reflecting in the dim glow from the string lights outside the window.

You know it was to get to this exact moment, right here, where you're in Joel’s arms again, and nothing can get you anymore. Nothing.

Smiling, you lean up to your husband’s face and kiss him gently on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

The End

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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general-cyno · 7 months

Text

I'm caught up with manga rn so I wanted to share a few thoughts (ramblings) on egghead arc zolu too. first, this convo after the crew leave wano and find out abt what's gone down in the reverie, and wrt to vivi specifically,

I do agree with some stuff I've seen about how using ace here as an example was not exactly the best one since we know how that ended up. that said, I think it's lowkey sweet that zoro still remembers so clearly what luffy said back then and well, he's not entirely wrong.

as I've mentioned in other posts before, zoro takes the crew and his own role in it very seriously. these are his companions, his friends and family I daresay, and part of his duty as both crewmate and friend includes keeping them all check and safe whenever it's needed. especially luffy, as we've seen in different occasions (water 7, thriller bark, punk hazard, wano, just to name some arcs with relevant moments related to this). storming into marijoa, THE world government/navy stronghold, without any information and/or plan whatsoever is a bad idea all around.

luffy may be impulsive and stubborn at times, but he isn't really an idiot and he knows zoro's right even if he doesn't like it. hence this:

ngl I love how grumpy luffy is at zoro here. these two are usually on a similar wavelength but there are key moments where their approach to things differ, and it ultimately works bc it's kind of... a complementary thing. making up for what the other lacks or needs to hear in those moments. I believe they bicker relatively less than other straw hats do in comparison (precisely bc of how similar they are imo) but it's funny when it actually happens. I can so easily picture luffy here fuming and stomping like a brat also being seconds away from asking for a divorce

this one's perhaps on a more delulu note on my part, but I like that zoro brought up ace in specific bc he was there both times when ace and sabo asked the crew to take care of luffy. it was curious to me that in the former case, zoro was kinda shown with this "!" reaction sign and later when it came to sabo in dressrosa, he was the one to fondly point out he sounded just like ace did in alabasta (and the "!" is back).

(the fact that sabo handed zoro luffy's vivre card there also lives in my mind rent free btw)

so yeah. zoro's definitely not one to mess around when it comes to the crew and luffy's safety, though he may get a handful of grumpy straw hats (captain included!) for it.

another thing, and do bear with me bc I might be reaching once again is... the break up flashback between shanks and buggy. I pretty much forgot to make a post about water 7/enies lobby zolu bits (too busy crying over robin, I admit) but this actually reminded me of it.

the context and personalities involved differ from each other, yeah, but I believe this shows exactly how easily it could've been for luffy and zoro to have a bad ending of sorts under different circumstances.

I can't say for sure how much of whiskey peak was intended to affect zoro and luffy's relationship later in the manga (I personally find some parts of it kinda goofy), but it at least served as an early example that they're not immune to suffering from misunderstandings and miscommunication issues. though unlike shanks/buggy, the fact that they're more similar than they're different and their differences tend to complement each other's likely works more in zoro and luffy's favor. still,

if luffy hadn't listened to zoro here - if he'd failed to stay true to what's expected of him as the captain (and being the captain is related to his journey to become the pirate king), to stay true to the kind of man zoro believes him to be and that he chose to join in that marine base, we could've had a similar scenario to shanks and buggy's imo. more so when you consider that zoro's as headstrong as luffy is, that he's been mistaken for the captain and now has turned out to have the color of the supreme king too. hell, zoro used to be a bounty hunter, is still called the pirate hunter. I don't believe it'd be easy for zoro to leave despite what he says, or that they'd become enemies per se, but it isn't (or wasn't) out of the realm of possibilities. zoro has admitted that he sees no point in being a pirate unless he's part of luffy's crew as well.

as it is, the fact that luffy values zoro's imput and listens to him whenever the need arises is such an important part of their relationship. as loyal as zoro may be, as great as his displays of that loyalty are, they only exist bc luffy cares for him just as much and has earned them through his actions. I love it!

last thing before this gets too long is this:

the mobile app's pic upload limit is my enemy so I can't share it but I also liked the page before this one, where luffy asks zoro if he needs some help, to which zoro tells him to focus on kizaru instead.

this is such a great showcase of how much they've grown in terms of strength - that zoro can take on one of pre-timeskip luffy's strongest foes now, and that luffy himself is no longer unable to do anything against enemies like kizaru. and yknow, I find it special that luffy can go against him now considering kizaru was the one who almost killed zoro in sabaody - one of those instances in which luffy was genuinely worried, upset and feared for zoro's safety to the point he was actually all teary when rayleigh managed to save him.

I would've liked to see zoro's reaction to nika!luffy since he was knocked out in wano when it first happened, but I suppose he's already seen the wanted poster and his lack of reaction now isn't that out of character probably. godly power up or not, that's still his silly gremlin captain ig. can't wait to see what else is in store for these guys in this arc and onwards!

#zolu #tp #long post #back here again folks #this one is especially dedicated to the lovely anon who sent me an ask abt how they enjoyed reading my posts #and to everyone who's liked them: love y'all #zolu in my mind rent free as always #jay reads op

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denaliwrites · 7 months

Text

What Beautiful Things I'll Wear

Tenth Doctor x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Doctor takes you to a masquerade ball during the Renaissance.

Soundtrack: Marry Me by Emilie Autumn

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp (I always forget this bit, I'm so sorry!)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Peril.

"Oi! We're gonna miss it!" the Doctor called into the TARDIS wardrobe, startling you out of your reverie.

"You have a time machine!" you snapped back in lighthearted exasperation.

"We can't cross our own timelines!"

"I'm sure there are other balls we could attend, Doctor!"

"Yeah, but this one's got Machiavelli!"

"Wait, seriously?" you asked as you poked your head out of the wardrobe. "The Machiavelli?"

"Yeah," he said teasingly with a big grin. "So hurry up, before the party's over and he leaves!"

You sighed with a roll of your eyes and withdrew back into the wardrobe, adding the final touches to your ensemble in a rush.

Finally, you exited, adorned in a lavish dress of midnight and periwinkle. Sat delicately over your face was a silver wolf mask, which hid an equally wolfish smile. "How do I look?" you asked, giving the Doctor a twirl for effect.

He stood in silence, simply taking you in for a few moments. He looked somewhat awestruck, eyes wide and full of something you couldn't quite put a fully accurate name to. And the smile he gave you -- it was adoring in the way his smiles often were when he was faced with humanity's charm and brilliance. But it seemed deeper than that. More personal. Intimate.

It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Doctor?" you prompted him gently.

He blinked back to himself and his smile easily slipped into something more casual. "You look stunning," he told you as he held an arm out for you. There was still something in his voice that tickled your senses, but you left it, eagerly taking his arm. Without further ado, the two of you were off to the ball to meet Machiavelli.

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

Machiavelli had turned out to be a rather boring individual.

Well.

That wasn't fair. He just wasn't the kind of man you'd expected the writer of the Prince to be. He was a lot more mild, comparatively, and didn't seem to possess any of the traits that you, in your modern attitude, would consider Machiavellan.

Except maybe the way he seemed rather eager to get to know you biblically.

You swore, if he cooed one more "good lady" or "lovely mistress" or "darling girl" in your general direction, you'd lose your mind.

The worst offense, though, was that he'd separated you from the Doctor. You'd tried looking for him, but he'd seemingly vanished entirely from the ball.

Tired, lost, exasperated, you made your way to a bench out on a nearby balcony and flopped gracelessly onto the seat with a groan. It had already been such a night, and now all you wanted was to crawl into your bed.

You groaned again as a shadow fell over you. You turned, fully expecting to see the Machiavelli there to hound you into another dance.

Instead, you saw... nothing? But also something.

It cast a shadow, so you knew that there had to be something physically there. But as you looked, it seemed to shimmer and glide right out of your field of view, like the dancing dapples of light on the surface of a pool.

You'd spent enough time with the Doctor to know when things were a little... off. You weren't sure if this was the work of a perception filter, or something similar, but it definitely wasn't normal and it definitely wasn't human.

And it definitely wasn't throwing you off the trail.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a voice called out. "Don't!" You turned again to see the Doctor running towards you.

There was a sudden sting as something slid into your neck, and then heat spread out from the injection, dazing you. You heard the Doctor calling your name, even felt his hands on you, but couldn't see anything other than the shimmering man behind you.

"What have you done to her?" the Doctor shouted. You were startled, you felt it, yet your body didn't move. "Whatever you did, fix it! Cure her!"

You could feel the heat spreading. It felt like fire, razing through your veins like an inferno. You had the sense to know it should hurt, yet you felt no pain. Even so, you knew that without some kind of antidote, it'd kill you.

The Doctor seemed to know that too.

"Please," he said, and you realized he'd moved on to begging. "Please. Not her. Let me save her." Begging for you. For your life.

You watched as the entity produced something new -- it still shimmered, never letting you get a good look at it, but as it slipped into your neck you realized it was another needle.

This time, the plunger sent ice into your veins. It moved quickly, eating up the fire and leaving you shivering... but alive. You realized as the ice spread that, not only were you wracked with tremors, but you could move your own body voluntarily. You lifted your arms with difficulty and wrapped them heavily around the Doctor's neck. And gently, he tipped your head forward so that your eyes were finally on him.

"Doctor," you whimpered. "About damn time..."

He laughed a little at that, though it sounded hollow and the smile that came with it didn't reach his eyes. "Fashionably late as ever, eh?" he asked gently.

Your head lolled when you tried to nod. That made him laugh again, and that time it didn't sound so hollow.

"What did you do to her?" he asked the shimmering man again. There was no reply, and you almost thought that maybe the strange entity had left.

"She required correcting," a dozen voices said at once.

"Correcting?" the Doctor asked, pulling you closer protectively.

"The female carried disease. It's now eliminated, and she is corrected."

"Disease?" you and the Doctor asked simultaneously.

"She is corrected." With that, there was a whoosh behind you, and you knew that whatever that thing was, it was gone.

The Doctor stayed with you until you'd recovered, holding you close and stroking your hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles into your back.

Once you could move without fumbling like a ragdoll, he helped you to a stand and guided you towards the door.

Music still played in the ballroom, though most of the attendees had filtered out and the party was definitely in its final throes. Machiavelli, blessedly, was gone.

The Doctor brought you to a halt in the middle of the room and turned towards you with a light smile. "May I have this dance?" he asked, and though he tried to sound casual, you could hear that deeper note in his voice once again.

"You may," you answered thoughtfully.

He began leading you through the steps of a waltz you didn't recognize, but it wasn't too hard to pick up. You imagined he'd chosen something that would be easy for you, in case any effects from your "correction" still lingered.

"Doctor?" you murmured into his ear after a while of dancing in silence.

He hummed in acknowledgement, and you could've sworn his arms around you got tighter.

"You've seemed... a bit off, for a while... is everything okay?"

"Oh... everything's wonderful," he answered, and you could hear in his voice that he meant it. He shifted his arms so that he could cradle your face in his hands, one on your cheek and one on your neck, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where the entity had injected you with those strange substances. "Everything's perfect, in fact."

"Y-yeah?" you asked, looking into his eyes, your own wide as he watched you with such intense and bare adoration.

"Yeah."

You didn't pull away as he leaned forward, didn't move back as his lips pressed to your own. It was a sweet and tender kiss, the kind of kiss that sent an entirely different kind of warmth through your veins. You smiled sweetly into it, and you could tell the Doctor felt it as you felt his lips quirk up in response.

He pulled away, and while you leaned into his chest with a contented sigh, he peppered little pecks over your bare shoulders in reverence.

You stayed like that, swaying gently in a dance not from your planet, to music not from your time, up until the moment the band stopped playing.

#tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor x you #reader insert #doctor who fic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #the doctor #david tennant #canon typical peril

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punkshort · 10 months

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Chapter One

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

April 2003

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, as the subway lurched forward, catching you off guard.

Today was the first day of your new job at a big-time construction company in downtown Manhattan. You had just moved to NYC a couple months ago, and this job was the first place that made you a reasonable offer. You were beginning to work through the last of your savings and getting sick of bumming it on your old college dormmate’s couch, so you eagerly accepted the position. The last thing you wanted to do was ask your parents for money – they were already so worried about you living in New York and working in Manhattan.

You thought back to when you called your mom and dad to tell them you finally got a job offer, so excited to tell them you could get your very own place if it all worked out.

“But Baby, don’t you think it’s a little dangerous working down there after what happened?” your mom had begged on the phone.

"Mom, please don’t worry, this building is nowhere near as big, this one only has 10 floors, I promise I will be ok,” you pleaded, hoping she won’t guilt trip you into moving back to the suburbs of Chicago.

You had always been a quiet, shy, studious type. Your parents always joked you would live with them til you were 40, never one to party or do anything bad. Needless to say, when you announced after graduation you wanted to move to New York, your whole family was stunned. You were pretty sure they expected you to chicken out, or move back home after a month, but you had a dream and you were determined.

Suddenly, the tinny voice over the subway speaker broke into your reverie, announcing your stop. You filed out of the packed car with loads of others who look like they were all going to similar corporate jobs. You tugged anxiously on the sleeve of your blazer as you made your way up the stairs and out onto the street. The crisp spring air that hit your face was a welcome change to the stuffy, overpacked subway car you had just left.

Lucky for you, Miller & Miller Contracting, Inc. was a mere 3 blocks from the subway. Your heels clicked loudly in your ears as you approached the building with ten minutes to spare. Relief began to wash over you a bit when you realized you planned the commute perfectly. You hated being late.

You pushed the door open into the lobby, approaching a large desk with two receptionists. Both were talking animatedly on their headsets and transferring calls. Patiently waiting for one of them to be available, you casually glanced around the lobby to avoid looking as nervous as you felt. The lobby itself was beautiful: it was completely open all the way to the top floor, with the glass elevator shaft behind the reception desk. The front of the building also was all glass, so that it afforded a beautiful view as the elevator took you up to your destination.

“Can I help you?” one of the receptionists called out. She had curly, short blonde hair, thin, and was impeccably dressed.

"Yes! I’m sorry, yes, it’s my first day in accounting. I am supposed to be meeting Heather, my name is –“ the receptionist cut you off, guessing your name before you could even finish your sentence. You confirmed who you were, and she got up to come around the desk.

"I’m taking the newbie upstairs to accounting, I’ll be right back, need anything?” she called back over her shoulder to her long haired, brunette cohort.

The slightly older receptionist shook her head in acknowledgment, still listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone call.

The receptionist who greeted you smiled and stuck out her hand.

"I’m Maggie, it’s nice to meet you. Come around to the elevator, I’ll take you up to Heather.”

She led you around the back of her desk to the elevator bank, her curly hair bobbed as her heels clicked on the dark tile floor. She began rattling off questions and information, no doubt a side effect of her job, and possibly caffeine, as you waited next to her for the elevator to arrive.

"How old are you? Are you from New York? Do you know anyone who works here? I’m always so excited when someone new joins, sorry if I’m making you nervous! It’s a fun place to work, it really is, there’s a lot of great people here. I know your position can be a tough one, so please give it a chance, I swear it’s worth it.” She paused for a minute, realizing she might be scaring you off, as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Uhhh,” you stammered, trying to absorb the last bit of information without looking concerned, and stepped into the empty car. Maggie stabbed the button for the 6th floor as you replied.

"I’m 25, it’s my first ‘real’ job out of college, I just mainly had internships before now, and they hardly paid much. I’m glad I can finally stop couch surfing. I am from a small town outside Chicago, I went to school there and I’ve always wanted to live in New York. My old college roommate already lived here, so I decided to give it a shot,” you paused for a moment as Maggie nodded along eagerly with your story. You frowned slightly.

"I’m sorry, what did you mean when you said-" Right then, the elevator doors pinged to floor 6, opening up to an empty hallway.

“OK we’re here! Follow me!” Maggie cut you off, and whisked you down the hallway, which took you to an open floorplan filled with cubes upon cubes of bustling employees. Some were chatting between their desks, others were hurriedly talking on the phone, and some mindlessly scrolling on their computers.

Maggie led you to the back wall, which consisted mostly of offices, and what looked to be conference rooms in one end. She turned left as you rushed to keep up while trying to absorb your surroundings. You nearly smacked into her when she came to an abrupt stop in front of a partially open office door. She knocked gently, smiling at the person inside.

“Good morning, Heather! I have your new hire here,” she gestured towards you and waved you over. There sat Heather, your new boss, who you had only met when you interviewed with her and HR. Her mid length dirty blonde hair was perfectly in place, bangs framing her face, just like the day you met. She was probably about 15 years older than you, but she looked like she could pass for around your age. She was very trim, wearing a form fitting black dress with strappy sandals, and her makeup looked impeccable. If it wasn’t for the old fashioned hair style, she could pass for around 30.

You stepped into Heather’s office, which you hadn’t seen when you interviewed with her a couple weeks back. It was small, but it had a decent view, which was to Heather’s back as she stood from her desk to greet you warmly by your name and thank you for being so punctual. She glanced behind you at Maggie and thanked her for showing you up, effectively dismissing her. You turned back to wave your thanks to Maggie, but she was already gone, heels echoing down the hallway back towards the elevator.

“Alright! Follow me, I will take you to the rest of the department and introduce you to everyone,” she motioned for you to follow her out of her office. Being the Controller, she had her own personal space away from the rest of the group, which you found was not too far away from her office. Heather led you back the way you came but kept going straight along the wall of offices, talking to you over her shoulder as she walked.

"I hope you made it in OK, I’m so glad the sun is out this morning! I was getting sick of all that rain, this weekend was such a drag with all the dreary weather.” You hummed your agreement and assured her you made it in just fine, not letting it be known you were overanalyzing your commute all weekend long.

Heather stopped at the corner of the floor, punched a personalized code into a keypad next to a door and opened it. You had initially thought it could be a conference room, but in fact it turned out to be a decently sized room filled with cubes, some filing cabinets, and a small safe. You glanced around at the room of about ten employees hard at work, heads mostly down or on the phone. Two girls around your age who were seated next to each other in the corner of the room quickly quieted down their chatter, and looked in your direction when you walked in. You gave a shy smile towards them as Heather addressed the department.

“Good morning gang, this is our new Accounts Receivables Specialist,” she turned towards you, announcing your name to the group. “Please make her feel welcome, if you don’t mind showing her around where the bathrooms and coffee are, I would appreciate it. I have a meeting this morning with the big guy I need to get ready for, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself.” She turned back to you apologetically.

"We have a great, tightknit team here, they'll show you the ropes. This is your desk,” she led you over near the corner of the room where the two girls had been chatting. “I already stocked it with some paper and pens, but we do have a supply closet on this floor if you need anything else, and Colleen is going to be your trainer.”

She motioned over to one of the two chatty girls, who bounced over with a smile and an outstretched hand. You shook it, reintroducing yourself warmly as Heather made her exit.

"Again, sorry guys, I have a meeting with Joel, and you know how he is.” She rolled her eyes, and she was met with some chuckles and a couple looks of sympathy. Heather gave you a final wave and a promise to return around lunchtime to check in, and left through the same door you came in, with it locking shut behind her.

Colleen must have been around your age, her blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and she had curious, bright blue eyes. She was wearing a business casual, knee length, light pink dress that was perfect for the beautiful spring day. You felt a bit out of place in your navy blazer and matching navy dress pants, but you wanted to look your most professional on your first day.

Colleen began to explain you will be shadowing her for the morning, getting you used to the software system they used, how to look up accounts, and where important files are stored. You learned Colleen was working in Accounts Payables, opposite your job. You realized the two of you will be working closely together, and connected the dots on why Heather chose her to train you, vaguely wondering who had your position prior.

As you pulled your rolling chair up to her desk to observe, notepad and pen in hand, you coolly questioned who Joel was, and what the reaction was all about. Colleen seemed the type that liked to gossip more than work, and she excitedly settled in to explain all the office politics to you.

“OK, so, Joel and Tommy run the company, they are brothers – Miller & Miller, get it?” she began, smiling brightly at you. “Tommy is SO much nicer than Joel, he is the one who schmoozes all of the new clients and signs all the new business. Joel is, well…” she trailed off, hands flailing gently, searching for an appropriate word to describe the head of the company without scaring off a new hire. “He can be challenging to work with sometimes, but don’t worry, you won’t have to work with him one-on-one. We have monthly meetings with him as a department, it’s a lot easier to handle him as a group, most of the time.”

“How do you mean, ‘challenging’?” you pressed, leaning forward, hoping to learn more about what you were getting into, not that you had much of a choice if you wanted to continue to live in the city. “Do you mean he just asks a lot of questions, or…?” Colleen picked up where you left off.

He’s mean,” she stated bluntly, smile faltering slightly. “He has made employees cry before, and he has caused people to quit on the spot during his meetings. He’s tough, but he’s the guy who goes to the job sites and makes sure everything is running smoothly. Unfortunately, that type of personality, especially from a man, on those construction sites is exactly what they need to make sure nobody is slacking off and cutting corners. They are too scared of him to screw up!” she laughed, trying to ease any nervousness she caused you.

You leaned back in your chair, gaze drifting aimlessly around her desk as you absorb what she told you. Before you could add anything further, the other girl Colleen had been chatting with earlier piped up from the adjoining cube.

“He’s an asshole. If he ever does say anything hurtful towards you, you have to just let it roll off your shoulders. That’s why Heather is so good in her position, she has to be one-on-one with him a lot, and she can handle his shit much better than most,” the redhead, whose name you saw on the outside of her cube was Debbie, gruffly interrupted. You could tell she was the opposite of Colleen – while Colleen is bubbly and sweet, Debbie seemed tougher and had an edge, although she still seemed just as friendly as she continued to help paint the picture of the mysterious Joel Miller.

“At the end of the day, you have to keep in mind we are not out here saving lives. We are working in accounting at a construction company. He gets so heated and spouts off at the mouth like this company is saving the world," Debbie finished explaining with a huff. She rolled her green eyes, crossed her arms over her chest and glared off at a fixed point on the wall beside her.

“Debbie is right, but she is just extra emotional about it because the girl in your position before had a run in with Joel, and she quit. Cheryl was Debbie’s best friend here, so she is just a little sore over it still.” Colleen tried to explain gently, without upsetting Debbie more.

Debbie nodded in agreement, sighing, she leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees, she dragged her eyes away from the wall to look at the two of you.

"She’s right. Cheryl didn’t deserve that from him, but she did what was best for her when she quit. It happens a lot, I just thought Cheryl was used to it. She had been here 8 years!” Debbie exclaimed, throwing up her hands with frustration.

You gulped and began to get nervous, not really sure what to say. All you could hope was that maybe you didn’t have to have one-on-one time with Joel. You just knew you needed to keep this job, or else you were packing your bags and moving back home. Your hands started fidgeting on your lap, and you chewed your bottom lip slightly as you took in the information.

“Well, thanks for the warning, girls, I will do my best to keep my head down and stay below the radar,” you chuckled quietly, hoping to ease some of the tension and change the topic.

Debbie smiled at you, a little sadly.

"That's a good plan, but since you are in receivables, Joel may put you on the spot in some of our meetings and want to know what the payment status is on specific clients of his. Heather will typically field those questions if she knows the information beforehand, but if he catches you off guard like he did with Cheryl…” she drifted off, allowing you to connect the dots on your own. “Just keep your guard up, and go into those meetings with TONS of notes on all his clients, that is the best advice I can give you. And let Heather do all the talking.” With that, Debbie scooted her chair back to her computer to get back to work.

Your eyes probably gave away your nervousness when you turned back to Colleen. She smiled warmly at you and patted you gently on the knee. “Don’t worry about it, I promise it's not as bad as it seems. Like Debbie said, Heather fields most of Joel’s questions directly. Plus, we just had our monthly meeting with him last week. You won’t have to cross paths with him for another month.” Colleen turned back to her computer and started explaining the accounting software to you.

You were really only half listening as your panic was bubbling just below the surface, replaying Debbie’s words in your head while you tried to focus on what Colleen was teaching you. You were beginning to understand why this place offered you the job so quickly, you just hoped you could be tough enough to get through those monthly meetings.

Chapter Two

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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wangxianficfinder · 8 months

Text

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Thank you for answering my last request 🖤

For the next in “ITMF” I would like to read some good fanfics with Lan Wangji being older than Wei Wuxian

I’m okay with omegaverse, fantasy setting and problematic content in case anyone wonders @kanrax-blog

you only ever touch me in the dark by sweetlolixo (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Age Difference, Boypussy, Intersex WWX, Feminization, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dirty Talking LWJ, Stalking, Size Difference, WWX Has a Non-Con Kink, Dark WWX, Daddy Kink, Mirror Sex, Restraints, Virginity Kink, Blindfolds, Deranged4Deranged Wangxian)

and

4018 by sweetlolixo (E, 28k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, A/B/O Dynamics, Older LWJ, Immortal LWJ, Pregnant WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Age Difference, Boypussy, Vaginal Fingering, Dry Humping, Knotting, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talking LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Size Difference, Feminization) as well as few other works by sweetlolixo. beware tho quite a few of those fics deal with consent issues (although most of the time it is deranged4deranged wangxian)

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Teacher LWJ, dark twin jades, Age Difference, Manipulation, Protective LWJ, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Relatively canon-typical abusive Jiangs, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Clan Friendly) lwj is mid-20s, wwx is ~18; dark-ish but protective twin jades; not jiang friendly. warning that this one ends pre-relationship!

~*~

2. this is a bit specific but may i ask for fic where someone starts calling wwx 'the son of a-' and gets interrupted by 'the son of who? cssr, bssr's disciple? wcz, a rogue cultivator?' the cinderella fic has a similar line but not exactly (bc its said against wwx's own self deprecation). (honestly, i would also love a cutting response of 'ok he's the son of a servant and still better than all of u, you were saying?' but the gentry probably won't compute that lol) thank you!

SIMILAR! golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 95k, WIP, WangXian, Canon, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, which is an anachronistic term for this fic but it fits, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, WWX gets all the appreciation he deserves, even if he’s a bit confused about it at first, warprize au with a twist, in that everyone thinks WWX is a warprize, but LWJ has only platonic and honourable intentions, at first 😏, Eventual Smut) similar to #2, in the latest chapter of this fic, lwj interrupts someone who's about to call wwx son of a servant

~*~

3. Hello! Do you know any fics with the same vibe as By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller? Or any like To Choose Another Path by TsumugiHitomi? Thank you so much!

The Concubine Mo Chronicles Series by Enigmatree (T, 71k, WangXian, Royalty AU, Prince LWJ, Concubine WWX, Mild Hurt/Comfort) maybe ?? or at least i kinda associate them lol

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4. Hi! Do any of you lovelies know of fics in which A) Nie Huaisang is the one to donate his core to Jiang Cheng? I mean, it's not like he's using it, right? And B) fics that feature Jin Zixuan & Mianmian's friendship? That doesn't have to be the fic's focus, but I'd love to see some backstories there. Both canon era and modern AUs are welcome. Thanks! @danegen

4B)

mianmian the disaster lesbian saves the cultivation world by likeshipsonthesea (T, 27k, wangxian, LWJ & LQY, LWJ & JZX, fix-it, friendship, awesome LQY, war, blood & injury, light angst, self-acceptance, awkward JZX)

Candy & Conspiracies by Reverie (cl410) (T, 16k, WangXian, XuanLi, MianQing, Jīn Sect WWX, Chaos Gremlin WWX, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Cloud Recesses, Found Family, pure idiocy, And some light murder, good madam jin, No Angst, Canon Divergence)

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5. anyone has any recommendations of modern with cultivation aus? preferably similar to "the truth will out (when caught in video)" by kizu_katana, or just good and similar to the book characterizations (im also a little in the mood for some not jiang friendly). thank you ♥︎

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 81k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, parallel universes, post-canon, getting together, pining, case fic) this, is kinda modern, but as in modern wangxian travel back in tima and meet canon wangxian

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending) and of course, my absolute favorite

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint (E, 23k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ, modern cultivation, single parent LWJ, swordflight instructor WWX, fluff, protective LWJ, getting together, smut) but this one's jiang positive iirc

💙 the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern culitvation, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Animal Transformation, Shapeshifting, Sort Of, Getting Together, Confessions)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, wangxian, modern cultivation, music, kid fic, action/adventure, canon typical JGY behavior, slow burn, fluff & angst, happy ending)

Coil Tightly by Thunderstruck (Blueyed_Impala) (T, 50k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ, Shifters, Modern with Magic, WWX is oblivious to magic, Slow Burn, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, References to Animal Abuse but the animal is LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, WWX has abandonment issues, Possessive LWJ, Clueless Flirting, OC Lan disciples for plot reasons)

other earths and skies by binghecarer (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, (but not in the typical way?), Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Scars and Injuries, Curses, making a deal with a mysterious mountain spirit (?) to help your found family?, there was only one bed and it had narrative significance, (oh my god it had narrative signigicance), Hurt/Comfort)

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6. #itmf some similar fics to "hidden in the clouds" by karmiya, as in cultivator lan wangji and courtesan wei wuxian 🩷🐇 thank you for the good work!!

Some Things Are Just Fate by Signe_chan (E, 24k, WangXian, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Injury, it's soppy actually I promise, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending)

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7. Hi. For the ITMF I'd like to ask for fics where Wei Wuxian somehow hurts Lan Wangji unintentionally and obviously feels really bad about it (the more angsty, the better) but no WIPs please

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8. Hi there, can I hop on this IITMF series? Because I am in the mood for ✨️royalty wangxian✨️ and I feel like I've read them all (I know I haven't and need help finding some). Preferrably finished, but not a dealbreaker. I especially love ones that have passion through social etiquette, carefully crafted rituals, and words that mean WAY more than what they seem, you know? Sorry if its too much, its a tall order. Thanks also for this awesome account.

practicing our mistakes | End Racism in the OTW by isabilightwood (E, 49k, WangXian, Fairy Tale, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, royalty-adjacent AU, rom com, all the parents live, especially Mama Lan, who needs a divorce, consort competition, lwj does NOT want to participate, fake courting his best friend is the obvious solution, Qīnghéng-jūn's A+ Parenting, matchmaking while mutual pining, wwx is a mostly human-looking demon, Monsterfucking, Submissive LWJ, Dominant WWX, Bondage, (fully consensual), Outdoor Sex, Fluff and Light Angst, wwx's tail expresses his emotions, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX)

Royalty AU Compilation

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9. Hello! As always, thanks so much for all your work, I have found some beautiful works and authors thanks to you ^.^

I need help finding fics where cql! Wangxian meet novel! Wangxian or similar scenarios. I’m so sure I have read some of them but now I can’t find even one! Could you give me a hand please?

I remember enjoying the dynamics of “what do you mean you are/aren’t married!” And I just wanted to re read some :,)

Thanks!! @neko-in-gotham

💙 feel better love by Anonymous (T, 8k, WIP, WangXian, implied WangXianXian, Post-Canon, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, in a haha jk...unless? way, Light Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crack, Crossover)

Key Differences by pupeez4eva (T, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Dimension Travel, Crossover, Drama!WWX meets Novel!WWX, Public Confessions, Post-Canon)

We always get what we deserve!(Doesn't matter even if you think you don't deserve it. Fate has mysterious ways!) by Ajareenlovesbtsandshinee (Not Rated, 16k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL WWX and MDZS WWX Exchange places, Happy Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It)

The Young, the Horny, the Jaded and the Jade: Partners in Time by Admiranda (M, 55k, WIP, WangXian, Established couple, Crossover, road trip with your older selves, teasing your younger selves about their obvious crushes, yin iron does yin iron things, mdzs/cql crossover, adult wangxian, Teenage Wangxian)

not quite the same by M00_Nie (T, 5k, WangXian, Post-Canon Módào Zǔshī Novel, Married WangXian, Established Relationship, Multiverse, WWX in MXY's Body, WWX in WWX's Body, Post-The Untamed (TV), flustered lwj, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX being a menace, wangxian being in love, Dorks in Love, Alternate Universes, Fluff, A little bit of angst, WWX Being WWX, WWX is a Panicked Gay Supportive LWJ)

the roots by thelastdboy (E, 30k, wangxian, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, post-canon, post-untamed, MDZS/CQL combination, transmigrator LWJ, dimension travel, time travel, parallel universes, desperation, WWX pov, LWJ pov, heavy angst, mental health issues, giref/mourning, abandonment, depression, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, getting together, rogue cultivator WWX, WQ lives, found family, cottagegore, it gets worse before it gets better) gotta do some self-promo for #9

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10. Hiii I love your page and I thank you for your hard work in finding us so many fics 😁

For the next ITMF, do you know of any fics about A) JC being brought back as a fierce corpse like WN and this making everything somehow better or B) any good crossover fics of Hualian just taking care of bb WY (or even after he dies) and just WY getting the family and status he deserves? @crazy-gay-killxr

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11. Hello! Thank you for all that you guys do!! <3

I was looking for some fics with wangxian as grandparents

The Boy with the Sunshine Smile by Witch_Nova221 (T, 153k, WangXian, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Post-Canon, Romance, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Parenthood, Growing Up) it's not a major plotpoint, but wangxian become grandparents at the end of this story

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12. Hello hello! (＾▽＾) I was wondering if you got any fic were WWX's cultivation doesn't corrupt/actively harm him, like it's not really more dangerous then reguler cultivation, like he knows how to do it safely, something like that? it would also be nice if others learn that and/or WWX explain how it's safe,

Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? By 3988Akasha (E, 110k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, Canonical Character Death, Soulmates, Demonic Cultivation, Original Female Character(s), Emotional Constipation, Minor Character Death, Hand Jobs, Sexual Content, Bathing/Washing, Idiots in Love, Poetry, Mild Gore, Anal Sex, Angst, Rimming, Blow Jobs)

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13. ITMF the filthiest spiciest hottest WangXian fic you've ever read.

I Won't Tell If You Won't by anxiousTypist (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, but not really, no one sees, Coming In Pants, Wet & Messyish, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP)

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14. Does anyone know if any TopGun Aus exist? I feel like mdzs would have a field day with this concept. Especially with the volleyball scene. I've read Pacific Rim au that was really good so I'm more or less curious since I see both of these movies in the same category. @skylar-lei1634

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15. Hi! So this one is a mix of itmf and ficfinder request, but I remember reading a fic where WWX got pregnant via talisman. Do you know a fic like this? Because I can‘t find it for the love of god, but I want that plot and more of it. Thank you so much! @desperation-is-my-middle-name (also in a previous FF post)

with arms wide open by violia (M, 4k, WangXian, Character Entering Into M/M Marriage Invents Mpreg In Hopes Of Pleasing Their Spouse With An Heir, Fluff, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Slight Misunderstandings, secret reveal)

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16. any fics where wwx comes back to life and lwj doesnt recognize him but falls in love "again"? @chellsky

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX) this one that i recently recced

By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 31k, Wangxian, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Misunderstandings, Identity Porn, Identity reveal)

Tumblr series Lady Mo by Shanastoryteller is ongoing. Here's a link to the latest one because it has links to ask the previous installments so far, but definitely recommend reading in order so start with the first one.

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17. Hello, for the next ITMF(In the mood for), I’m looking for wangxian mpreg fanfictions with scenes of childbirth in. Preferably with Wei Wuxian being the pregnant partner.

Thank you for your work and i hope you have a great day.

Blood, Google, and Love by Prairie_Grass (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, they were roommates, A/B/O Dynamics, Getting Together, Mpreg, semi graphic giving birth, Alpha LWJ, Omega wwx, Intersex Omegas, (or you could head-canon WWX as trans if you wanted), Fluff and Angst, the run-on sentences are on-purpose because WWX and LWJ are both:, neurodiverse characters, slightly traumatic birth)

Surprise Baby! by trulywicked (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Didn't know he was pregnant, birthing scene, Little bit of blood, A/B/O Dynamics, Inspired by Twitter, Established Relationship, Fluff)

On The Way Home by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 59k, wangxian, Modern, Mpreg, Non-a/b/o mpreg, Unprotected Sex, Unexpected Pregnancy, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Pining while fucking)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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dwarf-hat-enjoyer · 10 months

Text

🌼Favorite Flowers🌼 (Bachelors' V.)

synopsis: Favorite flowers of all six Stardew bachelors! No farmer mentioned, headcanons. SFW.

w.c.: 1.2k words!

content warnings: None!

A.N.: shoutout to @jellyaris for inspo on the Shane section! Hope everyone enjoys these little snippety snippets...Suuure, some of these headcanons kind of diverge from canon (yeah, yeah. Alex is neutral to dandelions ingame. Sue me, LOL.) But who cares, it's Tumblr! Might make a bachelorettes' version too.

Alex

He's a simple man with simple tastes. DANDELIONS suit him well! He has fond memories of picking dandelions with his mother and blowing the seeds away, and even vaguely remembers how to make flower chains out of them. Of course, he could never get them as neat as hers, but Granny Evelyn still asks for his help when making crowns for the Flower Dance. Apart of him wonders why they have to use nicer-looking flowers for the formal crowns when dandelions work just fine. They're sturdy yet flexible- not nearly as fragile as the more 'beautiful' flowers, and as an athlete, he can admire that about them.

On a deeper level, there are many similarities to be found between Alex and his favorite flower. First impressions can be deceiving- just like most people think of dandelions as pests, Alex can come on a bit strong and even arrogant. But looking beneath the surface, they both share the same physical and mental will to push forward and survive in even the most difficult circumstances. They both go through drastic changes as well. Just as the bright and spiky bloom of a dandelion becomes softer and more delicate, Alex's spirit softens too. His own changes, though, won't float away on the wind anytime soon :P

Elliott

As obvious as it would be to say red roses, SNAPDRAGONS would be his favorites instead! As much as he is a romantic, he's just as much a daydreamer, and snapdragons would provide his imagination with ample opportunity to run wild, both with their fantastical name and lush, delicate appearance. They remind him of adventures in far-off lands, harkening reveries of ancient castles filled with wondrous secrets and the brave heroes set out to uncover them. He's a homebody at heart, but nothing is stopping him from holing up in his cabin and writing about any of it! (Or, well, fantasizing about writing about it, in most cases. <3)

But just as established, he's a romantic. Elliott is definitely well-versed in the language of flowers, and the meaning behind snapdragons in particular hardly eludes him. They symbolize grace, earnestness and strength under pressure, but are also known to represent something less than well-intentioned. Emulating the former qualities is something Elliott has done effortlessly, but in a way, the last one entices him the most. To create something beautiful, strong and mysterious; something that draws one in and sparks love and fear and longing for an endless more- isn't that what every writer wants? What every writer dreams of?

Harvey

A little like Elliott in this regard, Harvey is the sentimental type. FORGET-ME-NOTS hold a special place in his heart. It's a simple flower in appearance with an almost childlike name, but he likes them just the same. Maybe it's because of those traits that he does- they remind him of the carefree days he's missed out on, since moving to the valley. On top of his doctoral duties, he's a very lonely person overall. Forget-Me-Nots, with their hopeful pale blue, almost cheer him up to see on days where he feels less like a member of the community and more like a robot with a stethoscope and scrubs.

It's also their name that connects with him in a way...Forget-Me-Not. On top of the way they look, they cheer him up with that name. On the rare instance that the flower comes up in conversation, he jokes that the person who named it must've had terrible memory, as cheesy as it sounds. But all jokes aside, it's comforting to him that a flower otherwise unremarkable would have a name that insists to the listening ear that it shouldn't be forgotten. Almost inspiring, even. It makes him feel as if one day, he won't be another face-in-the-crowd. Somebody important, though to whom in particular...? Well, time will tell!

Sam

For Sam, it's DAISIES all the way! He constantly flip-flops between spring and summer as his favorite seasons, but daisies give him the best of both worlds. Seeing them dotting the fields in the warmer months always brings a smile to his face. Whether or not he's close with him, Sam definitely got Alex to teach him how to make flower chains one late spring...Of course, Alex may or may not have been mildly jealous of how easily Sam picked up on the skill, but when spending time together outside, Sam's restless hands sometimes find themselves picking daisies from the grass while Abigail and Sebastian chat and bicker and making the both of them bracelets!

When he still lived in the city with his mother, father and a much younger Vincent, he'd sometimes see them poking out of cracks in the sidewalk. While they weren't as common as dandelions, they still always caught his attention. While Jodi chatted aimlessly with her fellow PTA moms outside one of the countless Zuzu City JojaMarts, he'd busy himself, plucking daisies and dandelions from whatever nooks and crannies he could find and playing with them however he wanted. Back then, he didn't think much of it, but he looks at those times with almost a fond nostalgia. Things changed, but that doesn't mean it all has to be sad, right?

Sebastian

He doesn't think about this sort of thing very often, being the lovable terminally-online dork that he is. But if you ask, Sebastian's favorite flower would have to be BLACK TULIPS. It's not a very deep answer, really. Sure, tulips are more of a spring flower, but he finds the pitch purple color to be one of the more interesting colors that plants can have. They stick out among the cheerier colors that most other breeds of tulips display- the goths of their genus, if you will, and that's small part of why he likes them!

He entertained the idea of gardening, at one point, even prior to the farmer's arrival. Though he plans to move out eventually, he thought it would be a good way to get outside and get some exercise, though it wasn't ever really anything he thought to commit to. Though, he does chat with Evelyn on occasion- their shared affinity for tulips and his occasional fantasy of maintaining a small garden has ended up providing a lot more conversation than he's used to, or even expected! Even if most people see him as an asocial shut-in, it's comforting for him to recognize his softer side.

Shane

Look at him. All gruff and mean. His favorite flower is probably a thistle of some sort, or something poisonous. All things considered, his favorite flowers are FAIRY ROSES. Don't give him that look- it's just because Jas likes them so much! Seeing the way she lights up when she sees them is contagious for this gold-hearted curmudgeon. She'd spent two entire weeks planning out a one-woman recital for him and Marnie once, and when he handed her a little JojaMart bouquet of them afterwards...Well, the look on her face made the price tag worth it. Although, her excited squeal did leave his ears ringing for the rest of the evening.

The flowers are native to the valley, too...Sometimes, he feels as if he doesn't belong. Why would he? It's not as if he was born there or has any particularly close friends. If Pelican Town was a garden, he'd just be a weed. But Jas seems to have taken like a duck to water, although she's still shy as ever. Shane can be self-defeating and pessimistic at times, but he's not made of stone. He's grateful that she's in a place where she can flourish, just like the fairy roses she adores so much.

~FIN~

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dr3amlab · 1 year

Text

3. wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 1721 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE —We all need a friend like Athena. Tell me what you think!

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

TAGLIST — @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @charlenasaxen @johnmurphys-sass @alittlebitofinsanitea couldn’t tag @louieblue2 and @born2222die

III. OBLIVIOUS IDIOT.

Dear Draco,

You shine so brightly, no wonder why you were named after a constellation. I don’t like to admit it but, sometimes, when I’m stargazing, I unconsciously find myself looking for your stars, and deep down, I think it’s just so I can see you for a little longer.

You’re the first person I think of when I wake up, and the last person that crosses my mind when I lay my head on my pillow. You tuck me in with reveries and dreams of you ever loving me back.

Draco, I think you’re my first love. My heart is all for you.

Yours truly,

Your secret admirer

Draco was laying on his bed while holding the letter carefully in his hands for he was scared to cause the slightest damage to the piece of parchment. He couldn’t help but to read the words over and over and over again in hopes to find even the smallest clue to finally put a face to this « secret admirer. » Alas, there was nothing to identify this person.

Malfoy felt hopeless for he couldn’t recognize the handwriting and never saw someone use the same stationary in Hogwarts. He’d hate to admit it, but since he started to receive the letters, he has been analyzing his surroundings more often: Draco would try to see if any of the pieces of paper were similar to the ones he received or even to see if he could match the handwriting.

Though, there was something that could help him identify his secret admirer: The scent. You see, every time he’d receive a letter from that Hufflepuff boy, a sweet scent coming from the pink envelope would make its way to Malfoy’s nose. However, the fragrance could only be smelt for a few seconds before completely disappearing. And so, It was a faint and an unreliable clue, but still, it was a clue and draco would take anything at this point.

« You’re still reading this Malfoy? » Blaise asked as he closed the door of their shared room, «yeah, I’m trying to figure out who they might be from, » draco said nonchalantly, « I can tell, » Blaise replied, « you’ve been receiving these letters for like I don’t know— two months? And since then, every time I come into the room you’re always reading them.» Zabini removed his jacket and threw it on his bed, and then sat on the latter while facing draco, « are you like in love or something? » Draco threw a pillow on Zabini, « ow! I’m just saying, » Blaise whined, « I’m certainly not in love with someone I don’t know Blaise.» Draco put the letter that was formerly in his hands on his bedside table, « I literally don’t care about those letters. »

« I, personally, in my opinion, » Blaise pointed to himself, «think you care about the letters, » he shrugged, « I also think you’re completely, utterly smitten with your secret admirer, » draco scoffed, « what makes you say that? The statement you’re making is clearly stupid. You’re not making any sense, » draco said, « I, personally, in my opinion, » draco repeated Blaise’s words, « think I’m just curious to know who’s writing these letters to me. That’s it. » Blaise looked at him closely and did not reply to his friend knowing damn well they’ll only end up fighting. The two boys fell into a comfortable silence, leaving each other to the company of their thoughts.

Draco lied, and he knew that his dearest friend caught on. He cared deeply about those letters; it felt nice to Malfoy to see how someone seemed to care deeply about him and perceived him in a a way that nobody ever did before. It felt funny to Draco : How could someone see beyond his cold and heartless persona and see him for more than he showcased himself as? He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he sure hoped to know it one day. Until then, Draco will keep that question close to his heart, to make sure he’ll remember to ask his secret admirer.

« I’m curious though, » Zabini spoke up making Draco’s train of thoughts stop to a halt, « Y/N. We haven’t heard of her for a while. Like, she didn’t prank you or anything for weeks, » Draco smiled remembering the last encounter he had with you, « Oh, come on! Y/N? I’m sure she gave up, she probably couldn’t find a better counterattack, » he smirked, « Stop being so cocky Draco, » Blaise smiled back at his friend, « I suggest you stay alarmed, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch, » he warned jokingly, « look at you being wise Zabini, » draco laughed.

« Oh come on, Y/N, » Athena huffed, «are you still writing those damn letters? I thought it was a one time thing and you’d be over it by now.» You stopped writing mid-sentence to look up at Athena, «You just don’t understand Athena, I have to. It’s vital for me to embarrass him, » you defended, « plus, as a Slytherin, I ought to be a determined person. »

« Yeah, right, » Athena started, « so it’s vital for you to write him little love letters every day just so you embarrass him? » Athena sat down next to you, «but, tell me truthfully, aren’t you embarrassed y/n? ‘Cause honestly I would be if I were you, » she scoffed, « wait, » you changed positions so you could face her better, « how is it embarrassing? »

« You’re an oblivious idiot aren’t you? » Athena put her hands on your shoulders and looked at you straight in the eyes, «you are writing to him little poems filled with love every day! That’s a thing lovers do for each other, » she said, «and those letters seem so genuine if you ask me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ever told me that you’re in love with Malfoy. » You slapped her hands off your shoulders, « Me, in love with Draco? As if! » you scoffed, « I’m only doing this so I can get back at him! I don’t care about him, at all, » you said defensively.

Athena broke into a fit of laughter and all you could do was to look at her with frowned eyebrows, « w-why are you laughing? » you stuttered, «I don’t recall saying anything funny! » Your cheeks turned red from frustration, what did you say that made Athena laugh like you said the funniest joke ever?

Your childhood friend wiped her tears, « Y/N, my love, » she started, « we both know that if you didn’t care about the dude, you wouldn’t be fueling whatever childish feud you both have, » Athena explained, « and you’d be ignoring his existence like you’ve been ignoring Cormac, » she added, « I think that you actually care about draco and you may even want to snog him, potentially.» You touched her forehead to check if she had high fever, because she was saying some absolute nonsense. « Are you high? Drunk? Sick? » You questioned Athena, « You’re saying some crazy stuff right now Athena. »

« Y/N, my sister in Salazar, we both know that I’m right, » she shrugged, « plus, I know you like the palm of my hand! I clearly am in the right position to confirm that you do in fact have feelings for Draco Malfoy, » she elaborated, «Again if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be doing all of this, » she pointed to the stationary laying on your desk, « you’re in love, babe. » Without adding anything else, Athena went to her side of the dorm room leaving you with your thoughts

You felt like Athena opened a pandora’s box inside of your mind for all you could think of was that you may actually bear feelings for Malfoy. Athena’s words kept repeating in your head over and over again, and you couldn’t deny that she may be onto something: Were you playing these wicked games along with draco just because you wanted to have some sort of connection with him?

If you thought deeply about it, playing those games with Malfoy may have been an excuse to have a constant presence in his life because deep down, you didn’t want to be forgotten by Draco: Going by your logic, If you pulled some stupid pranks on Draco that would mean that he would always notice you and therefore you’d always be on his mind.

Sure, those games the two of you were playing did start out from a part of rivalry. But if you were to be honest, you did find draco quite handsome and there would be no doubt in your heart that you would actually like him if he didn’t open his mouth to speak on the day you first met him.

You glanced again at the half written letter in front of you. You lifted it up, and started to read it.

Dear Draco,

I think of you daily. It’s true. I think of you when I see green apples, books or even when I smell an expensive cologne. You probably don’t have a clue why, and trust me, neither do I.

I want to know everything about—

You put the letter down and put your face in the palm of your hands. The words you’ve written on the piece of paper were probably the most genuine sentences you’ve put into together in a while : You actually do think of Draco when you smell an expansive cologne for he had the most intoxicating smell. And you’d always wonder what the blond boy is currently doing at the sight of green apples.

To anyone else, the words you’ve written may seem mundane and they probably do not hold anything special, but for you they did. You obviously weren’t Kafka or Shakespeare for the way you constructed your sentences to confess your feelings weren’t exceptional and were far from deserving a Nobel prize for literature. However, you realized that you did mean every word you wasted your ink for and that said a lot of things.

«Shit, she’s right, » you thought, « I think I like Malfoy. »

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #Draco Malfoy x you #draco x slytherin!reader #draco fanfiction #draco fic #draco imagine #draco fanfic #draco fluff #draco ff #draco malfoy ff #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy fluff

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kckt88 · 6 months

Text

Drowning Inside You VI

Summary:

Aemond and Valaera set boundaries, and live a fruitful life on Driftmark.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Warning(s): 5 Year Time Skip, Inner thoughts, Language, Kissing, Smut, P in V, Breeding Kink, Knotting, Mild Angst, Possessive Behaviour, Child Birth. Epilogue

Word Count: 7850

Author Note: An Alpha/Omega Story.

P.S - Some Scenes/Dialogue from Dynasty has been reused.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“So, as it stands the potential agreement is when the children reach the appropriate age, they will enter a period of courtship and if at the end they do not wish to marry for whatever reason then the betrothal will be broken and Vaella will be free to pursue her own match,” said Valaera.

“Not to mention we have their presentations to consider, it’s not going to work if both Jaehaerys and Vaella present as Alpha’s or Omega’s” replied Aemond.

“As for Vhalarr, the same conditions apply” muttered Valaera.

“I’m fairly certain he will be an Alpha” said Aemond.

“How can you be sure?” asked Valaera.

“It’s very subtle but he already has a scent, similar to that of my own. Vaella smells sweet, like you” exclaimed Aemond.

“So, your saying she might be an Omega?”

“It’s possible but we would have to wait until presentation age to be sure” said Aemond.

Valaera knew in part that Aemond was right, Vhalarr did smell similar to his Alpha father and Vaella sometimes smelled like freshly baked cakes.

“Are we doing the right thing?” mused Valaera.

“Politically a match between Jaehaerys and Vaella makes sense. Our daughter would be the Queen and our grandchild would be heir, but I must admit that I wish to wait until our pups are older. Let them be children first” muttered Aemond.

“Then we wait” replied Valaera firmly.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Aemond.

“Our pups, our choice. My mother might not like it, but your right. Our pups should grow free of expectations”.

“So, it’s decided then” said Aemond.

“Yes, we are declining the betrothal until the children are older” replied Valaera sternly.

When they first moved to Driftmark, Valaera was shy and unsure of her abilities as future Lady of the Tides, but now she was really coming into her own. When she wasn’t looking after the children she was pouring over documents and checking trade routes, she would accompany Lord Corlys to Spice Town and oversee the ships and she even managed to broker a deal with silk merchants in Lys.

Aemond was insanely proud of his Omega.

That day she sat on the Driftwood Throne in the Hall of Nine called out the Queen for her poor decision making was something Aemond would never forget.

Despite all the ‘Strong’ jokes, Valaera was where she truly belonged and if truth be told, Aemond thoroughly enjoyed it when his Omega would become stern and serious. It made him incredibly hard, and he loved fucking Valaera on every available surface.

When he was younger, Aemond admittedly never had an interest in sex. He would often think that there was something wrong with him. He had that one experience on the street of silk on his thirteenth name day and wasn’t keen to repeat it.

But when it came to Valaera, it was all she could think about. Never had he known such desire before; his cock would get hard at the mere thought of his sweet Omega.

Every night he would lay with Valaera, sometimes more than once. His hunger for his mate was insatiable.

Just this morning, Aemond had thoroughly enjoyed himself as Valaera climbed on top of him and rode him like an unclaimed dragon.

“There. Finished” declared Valaera proudly breaking Aemond about of his reverie.

“W-What?” asked Aemond trying to ignore his cock growing hard in his breeches.

“Our official response to the Queen regarding the betrothal,” said Valaera.

“Y-You’ve included me” muttered Aemond as he quickly scanned the letter.

“Of course, your my future consort Lord and the father of our pups. Your opinion matters”

Was it possible to fall in love with the same person over and over again?

Aemond leaned towards his Omega and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

Yes. Yes, it was.

“I guess she didn’t take it well?” asked Aemond.

“No, she thinks you’re to blame” replied Aegon.

“I thought as much” muttered Aemond.

“Apparently you have too much influence over Valaera”

“Oh, piss off. Valaera is more than capable of making her own decisions” retorted Aemond.

“Of course, she is, but you know what our sister’s like. There’s always someone else to blame for her failings” exclaimed Aegon.

“I just want my pups to have a better upbringing than I did. Is that so wrong?”

“Not at all brother. Nothing will ever change unless we’re the ones that make those changes, I’m just glad someone finally has the balls to stand up and do it” said Aegon.

“How’s things with you and your Lord Strong?” asked Aemond.

“Good actually, he agreed with your reasons for refusing the betrothal” admitted Aegon.

“That is surprising. I assumed he would have agreed with his mother”.

“You’re not the only one. Should have seen Rhaenyra’s face when Jace told her that he accepted your reasons for declining” laughed Aegon.

“Maybe next time she’ll think before she opens her mouth”.

“Oh, she definitely knows she made a mistake. Jace has only just started talking to her again” said Aegon smiling.

“Did she apologise?”

“Yes, she did. It was glorious” said Aegon laughing.

“What about Daemon?” mused Aemond.

“Nothing to tell. The cuntstruck dog doesn’t really do much, which I must admit does disappoint me. There was everyone thinking that he’d be a second Maegor and yet he’s so boring. No drama, nothing” said Aegon shrugging.

“How’s mother?”

“As well as expected, she’s currently visiting Daeron in Old Town” replied Aegon.

“I keep meaning to invite him for a visit, but he’s spent so long in Old Town that he feels like a stranger” muttered Aemond.

“He’s our brother and yet it’s almost like he doesn’t exist”.

“So, are you going to tell me why you made an unannounced visit, or shall I guess?” asked Aemond.

“I just fancied seeing my little brother” replied Aegon sheepishly.

“Now I know that’s a lie” muttered Aemond.

“Actually, it isn’t. I just wanted to talk to someone other than Jace” admitted Aegon.

“Is he really that bad?” laughed Aemond.

“No, but since you and Helaena left the Red Keep there isn’t really anyone to keep me company. Joffrey is a total bore. Aegon and Viserys are too young, and my own children are not exactly great at conversation. I just miss you brother” muttered Aegon quietly.

“You know you’re welcome here anytime, right?”

“I appreciate that. Now can I see Valaera sitting on the Driftwood Throne?” asked Aegon.

“Why?”

“I want to see what Rhaenyra meant when she said Valaera looked like a totally different person sitting on her throne with her loyal consort by her side” said Aegon brightly.

“Now I see what Rhaenyra meant. She does look different” said Aegon as he stared at Valaera sitting on the Driftwood Throne.

“Not that different surely?” muttered Aemond feeling absolutely ridiculous at fulfilling Aegon’s request.

“Trust me brother, she looks positively delicious. I can see why your so obsessed with her”.

“You’re not serious?” gasped Aemond.

“Those Strong genes are really something aren’t they”.

“Don’t you dare” growled Aemond.

“I mean we could always figure something out; I could always lend you Jace granted he’s an Alpha but there are other pleasures to be had”.

That lecher. That vile fiend. Lusting after my Omega. I’m going to kill him.

“I bet you’ve fucked her on it haven’t you?”

“Halt your vulgarity” snarled Aemond.

“Oh, you have. You really are a whore” laughed Aegon as he turned on his heel and ran out of the Hall of Nine.

“I’m going to kill you” shouted Aemond as he ran after his older brother, leaving Valaera sitting on the Driftwood Throne looking utterly confused at what had just happened.

-Five Years Later-

“A son my Prince”

“I-Is he ok?” asked Valaera as Maester Selkin placed the crying pup in her arms.

“Perfectly healthy” replied the Maester smiling.

“A-Aemond look at him, he’s perfect” cooed Valaera.

“He is beautiful. Well done Issa dōna” replied Aemond proudly. (My sweet)

My pup has his mother’s face. But he has my silver hair.

“W-What shall we call him?” asked Valaera.

“Aerion” replied Aemond the tears streaming down his face.

I am so proud of my Omega. Our pup. Our beautiful little boy.

“Oh, Alpha it’s a wonderful name for our pup” gasped Valaera.

“Aerion Targaryen” exclaimed Aemond happily.

“S-Should you like to hold him?

“I would love to” muttered Aemond as his newborn pup was placed in his arms.

Valaera would never get tired of the look on her Alpha’s face as he cradled their tiny pup in his arms.

Such love and devotion.

As Aemond held their newly born son, Valaera was cleaned up and checked over by the Maester who declared her healthy, and once she was settled back into bed the Omega requested their other pups be brought so they could meet their new brother.

After a few moments, the door slowly opened, and four small faces peered in.

“Children, come and meet Aerion” urged Valaera softly.

Vhalarr was the first to approach, his amethyst eyes wide with wonder.

“He looks like Mother” whispered Vhalarr.

“But has father’s hair” gasped Vaella.

“Aemon my Issa byka zaldrīzes. Have a look” offered Aemond as he crouched down (My little dragon).

Aemon stared at his baby brother for a moment, and then he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Aerion’s head.

“Ryn, be careful” urged Aemond as his three-year-old pup began clambering up the bed.

“She’s ok, aren’t you Dōna hāedar” muttered Valaera as she drew their daughter into her embrace and held her tight (Sweet girl).

It must be overwhelming for Ryn; she is no longer the youngest of our pups. We must make sure she does not feel pushed out.

As the older pups surrounded Aemond and their new brother. Valaera thought back to when Ryn was born and how stubborn she was.

I was in labour for hours, far longer than any of the other pups. As worried as he was, Aemond had remained steadfast at his side, holding his hand the entire time. But she came, all pink and healthy.

They had named her Saeryna, but when Aemon had first met her, he could not properly say her name, so he kept calling her Ryn and the nickname eventually stuck. Admittedly at first Aemond did not like it, but he eventually gave in when he realised that Ryn was all she responded too.

Their second daughter looked a lot like Vhalarr, dark hair and amethyst eyes. She was so beautiful as was Vaella and Aemond was already sharpening his swords in preparation for any attention they would receive. The Alpha was weak for both of his daughters, and he was not ashamed to admit it either, which made Valaera smile.

“Muña. Avy jorrāelan” whispered Ryn (Mother, I love you).

“I love you too my darling” replied Valaera pressing a kiss to her daughters curly hair.

“I think someone wants feeding” exclaimed Aemond as he passed Aerion to Valaera.

“W-What is Aerion doing?” asked Ryn.

“He’s having his milk” replied Aemond.

“From Muña?”

“Yes, my sweet girl, all of you had milk from your mother” muttered Aemond.

“Do you have milk Kepa?”

“No, I do not, only those who birth pups have milk” said Aemond.

“How do mother’s even get pups?” asked Aemon.

This conversation is not happening. No. I refuse to acknowledge its existence.

“Do they just appear one day?”

“An Alpha puts them there” exclaimed Vhalarr.

“Wait. How did you know that?” asked Valaera.

“I heard you ask father to give you a pup and then one day you had Aerion in your tummy.”

Oh my god. I cannot believe he just said that.

“Yes, well mayhaps this conversation should take place when your older” muttered Aemond.

“Why?” asked Vaella tilting her head to the side.

“Because you’re a little young at the moment” said Aemond closing his eye and taking a deep breath.

“But I am almost seven name days old” retorted Vaella.

“Add another fifty million name days onto that and then I might think about telling you.”

“Oh, Kepa your being very silly” laughed Vaella (Father).

“You know what else is silly?” asked Aemond smiling.

“No what?”

“The tickle monster” exclaimed Aemond as he grabbed hold of Vaella and began tickling her.

Vaella’s delighted squeals of laughter echoed around the chamber and soon all of the children were set upon by the dangerous tickle monster.

Valaera loved watching her Alpha with their pups. The Alpha’s love for their family was boundless, and every day Valaera was thankful to have been blessed in such a manner.

Suddenly a knock at the door broke the tickle monsters reign of terror and Aegon appeared.

“UNCLE AEGON”

“Oh, my so many children at once” gasped Aegon as he was set upon by Vhalarr, Vaella, Aemon and Ryn.

“Good to see you brother” said Aemond as he resumed his seat on the bed next to Valaera.

“Looks like I arrived just in time” replied Aegon.

“Come, meet your nephew Aerion” said Valaera proudly.

“I thought you was naming him Aegon.”

“Since when was that ever an option” groused Aemond.

“Well, I am your favourite brother” replied Aegon.

“Your my only-“

Wait, hang on that isn’t right. Oh, yeah Daeron. I forgot about him.

“Is Jace here?” asked Valaera.

“Yeah, he’s with Baela and Helaena. There’s lots of children there too” said Aegon.

“Some of those children are yours” exclaimed Valaera.

“I know but don’t tell anyone” joked Aegon.

Aemond shook his head slightly and then sent for Tarla to collect the children.

The children’s nanny soon appeared and took the excited pups to see their cousins.

“Do you want to hold Aerion?”

“Oh, go on then, been a while since I’ve held a babe” replied Aegon happily as he took hold of Aerion and rocked him gently.

“Jace has brought an egg for your pup. Rhaenar chose it. I hope that’s ok?”

“It’s fine we’ll have it placed with Aerion later” said Aemond.

“Are you ok Aegon?” asked Valaera.

“I’m fine, just things can be a bit full on at times” muttered Aegon.

“You know your more than welcome to stay here whenever you like” offered Aemond.

“I know, thank you brother” replied Aegon.

Aemond knew that his brother was easily overwhelmed by the demands of being a mother and whilst he knew that Aegon loved his pups, he also knew that his brother sometimes needed a break.

“Word of warning though brother. If any of my pups start asking where pups come from, don’t you dare tell them” warned Aemond.

“Would I?” laughed Aegon.

Aemond and Valaera exchanged a knowing glance before quickly changing the subject.

A few days later, Valaera was back on her feet after the birth of Aerion and happily celebrating with her family.

“Welcome to the world, Prince Aerion Targaryen” declared Lord Corlys proudly.

Valaera smiled as cups were raised to her grandsire’s toast.

“Is the Queen not joining us?” asked Rhaenys curiously.

“No, important matters at court, but she did invite us to Kings Landing to celebrate when I’m capable of travel” replied Valaera.

“Just make sure you give yourself sufficient time to heal” said Rhaenys.

Valaera smiled and spied Aemond out of the corner of her eye nodding in agreement.

After their quarrel with her mother regarding the betrothal of Jaehaerys to Vaella, her Alpha mostly avoided having contact with the Queen unless he absolutely had to speak to her.

Valaera usually did most of the talking anyway, but even her relationship with his mother had noticeable cooled, especially when she dared to make a back hand request that both him and Aemond should apologise for openly disrespecting her in front of the noble lords.

Valaera outright refused and Aemond promptly told the Queen to stuff her request where the sun doesn’t shine and never in his life will he apologise for defending his own rights as a parent.

It had taken almost five years for Aemond to stop growling every time the Queen was mentioned.

“I just want to say thank you to Rhaenar for choosing Aerion’s dragon egg, I’m sure it will hatch into a fine dragon” said Valaera brightly.

“Your welcome Auntie Valaera” muttered Rhaenar shyly.

“Jaehaerys, will you stop winding your sister up” chided Jace sternly.

“Sorry father” exclaimed Jaehaerys as Maela stuck her tongue out.

“Speaking of dragon’s have your pups named theirs yet?” asked Jace.

“Yes, they have. But I’ll let them tell you" replied Valaera.

“My dragon is called Sapphyre” said Vaella proudly.

“Unusual name for a dragon” muttered Baela.

“Says the one who called her dragon Moondancer” retorted Aemond smirking.

“Oh, shut up” exclaimed Baela.

“I called my dragon Melarx, in honour of Meleys and Arrax” said Vhalarr.

"Silver" declared Ryn proudly.

“Vhagon, in honour of my father’s dragon,” said Aemon.

“Shocking, not one of you in the bunch thought to honour my Sunfyre, the most beautiful dragon to ever grace the skies” gasped Aegon.

“My father rides the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar is the Queen of the sky she flew alongside Balerion and Meraxes” said Aemon proudly.

“Why am I not surprised that your son knows that” said Aegon.

“My pups education is important, as is their knowledge of our family history” replied Aemond.

“Is Aerion named after Aegon the conquerors father?” asked Vhalarr.

“Yes, he is” exclaimed Aemond.

“The next pup better be named after me” declared Aegon.

“Who says were having anymore? We already have five” asked Valaera.

“Piss off, I’m betting you’ll have more. My brother can’t keep his knot out of your cunny”

“AEGON” shouted Valaera.

“Mother what’s a cunny?” asked Vaella.

Valaera didn’t have the chance to respond as Aemond had launched himself out of his chair and chased Aegon out of the dining room.

“You want to what?” asked Valaera.

“Renew our wedding vows” replied Aemond.

“A-Aemond. Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. Ao issi se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson, and it would please me greatly to marry you all over again with our pups by our side” said Aemond (You are the love of my life).

“C-Could we have the ceremony here on Driftmark?”

“We can have it wherever you like my love” said Aemond as he wrapped his arms around his Omega and held him close.

“I would like to have Valyrian ceremony on the beach” whispered Valaera.

“Sounds perfect” muttered Aemond.

My Alpha. My love. He wants to marry me again. I am truly blessed to have him by my side.

“Shall we arrange for it to take place in two moons time, that way people have plenty of notice” suggested Valaera.

“Good idea. I’m fairly certain Helaena will help you with any arrangements and formalities, we’ll obviously need the traditional Valyrian robes, I might ask Rhaenys to acquire those”.

“We can ask the cooks to prepare the same food we had at our first wedding” exclaimed Valaera positively gleeful.

“As long as we have decent wine this time, not that piss we had before” retorted Aemond.

“I didn’t take you for much of a wine drinker” mused Valaera.

“I’m not, but if I’m going to have to deal with Aegon and your mother there’s no way I’m doing that totally sober” muttered Aemond.

Valaera let out a little giggle and buried her face in her Alpha’s chest.

“Come let us tell the pups,” said Valaera.

“I thought you were already married?” asked Vhalarr.

“We are, but sometimes when two people love one another they can get married again”.

“-And this time, you’ll be there with us,” said Valaera.

“You pups mean everything to us and we want to share this with you” said Aemond.

“Can we help you to plan it mother?” asked Vaella.

“Of course, you can, I’m counting on my sweet girls to walk with me on the day,” said Valaera.

“What about us?” asked Aemon.

“I’d like you to stand with your father if that’s ok, we might have to get Aunt Helaena to hold Aerion, but I want all my pups close” replied Valaera.

“Help mama” said Ryn in a sing song voice.

“That’s my girl” said Valaera as he gently stroked Ryn’s hair.

“Let’s get started on the list of people to invite. I wonder if there’s anyone around here that can help” mused Aemond as he pretended to look around the room.

“We can help” shrieked Vaella.

“Oh, I don’t know are you sure?” replied Aemond smiling as he tapped his chin.

“Yes” yelled Vaella.

“Well, I guess I’ve found all of my helpers” said Aemond brightly.

As Valaera fed Aerion, she happily watched as their remaining pups crowded around their Alpha father and began reeling off a list of names.

“Uncle Aegon” bellowed Ryn.

“Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“Yes, love Uncle Aegon” said Ryn brightly.

As much as Aemond loathed his brother’s lack of morals and decency, he had a very close relationship with his children, particularly Ryn. She adored Aegon and would always seek his company when he came to visit Driftmark.

“Don’t forget my mother” muttered Valaera.

“Are you sure?” asked Aemond.

“We have to invite her; I don’t wish for any more arguments” said Valaera quietly.

“There’s also my mother and Daeron” replied Aemond.

“Don’t forget about my brothers and Rhaena” mused Valaera.

“Hm”

After almost an hour the list was finished, it also included the names of all the pups dragons at the insistence of Ryn who smiled with delight when Aemond gave into her request.

Aemond wrapped his arms around Ryn and lifted her into his arms, her tiny fingers fiddled with the straps of his eyepatch before she slipped it off his head.

“Gevie” whispered Ryn as she placed a gentle kiss on the scared cheek of her father.

Aemond had previously been reluctant to show any of his pups what lurked under the eyepatch, but after Vaella had accidently pulled it off when she was a babe, there was no hiding the sapphire. Aemond had always believed people were terrified of his scar and he waited for his pups to react in terror but neither Vhalarr nor Vaella turned away. Sure, they were curious, but they never looked at their Alpha father with anything but love.

So, with every pup that was born after, Aemond made sure to keep the eyepatch off as much as he could, and he was beyond touched the day Vaella had announced that she was naming her dragon Sapphyre in his honour.

When he was younger Aemond never envisioned himself as a father. The thought of having pups terrified him. But now as he was surrounded by his pups, he knew there was no other place he’d rather be.

“Issa dōna hāedar” whispered Aemond (My sweet girl).

“Avy jorrāelan kepa” muttered Ryn as she snuggled into Aemond and closed her eyes (I love you father).

“I think it’s the pups bedtime” said Valaera as she placed Aerion in his crib.

“But mother I’m not tired” moaned Aemon.

“Right, come on. Bedtime” said Aemond sternly.

“Yes father” muttered Aemon quietly.

Tarla soon appeared to help see the children to bed and rather than disturb Ryn, Aemond insisted on putting her to bed himself.

Valaera called for bath to be prepared and by the time Aemond returned to their chambers, she was already sinking into the hot lavender water.

“Care to join me, Alpha?”

Aemond didn’t need asking twice as he quickly pulled off his breeches and tunic and slid into the water behind Valaera.

Valaera relaxed against Aemond and closed her eyes.

“Do you know how much I love you” whispered Aemond.

“I’m not sure. Perhaps you should remind me” giggled Valaera as her Alpha lathered soap on her body.

“My sweet mate. My Laera” muttered Aemond as he began peppering kisses on the back of Valaera’s neck whilst he continued to run his soapy hands all over his mates body.

“My Alpha. My love” gasped Valaera.

“Your mine. Forever” said Aemond.

Valaera lifted her hips and reached behind him to take hold of Aemond’s already hard cock.

My perfect mate. My one love. My Everything.

After teasing her Alpha with a few slow strokes, Valaera lowered herself onto his cock.

Aemond groaned loudly when Valaera was fully seated in his lap, his hands grasping his Omega’s hips tightly as she began to move.

My mate is beautiful. All wet and slick.

Valaera gripped the sides of the bathtub for support as Aemond began thrusting into her.

That’s it my sweet, take me. Take all of me.

The water splashed over the edge as the force of Aemond’s thrusts increased.

I love fucking my Omega from behind. So perfect.

Valaera rocked her hips backwards in time with Aemond’s thrusts.

Gods, I will never tire of feeling my Omega’s tight wet heat wrapped around me.

Valaera’s loud moans echoed around their bed chambers as she felt Aemond’s knot tugging on her.

“A-Aemond. Yes. Yes. A-Alpha” whined Valaera as Aemond shifted slightly and began thrusting deeper inside her.

“I want to stuff my knot deep inside your cunny and never leave” moaned Aemond.

“Aemond. P-Please” cried Valaera as she felt his Alpha sucking on her mating mark.

“Take it. Take all of me” groaned Aemond.

Valaera began convulsing around him, making the sweetest noises as Aemond began fucking her harder.

Aemond held Valaera tight to him as he stuffed his knot inside his Omega.

That’s it. Take my knot.

Valaera shuddered and sagged against Aemond as they were locked together by his knot.

“My love. My sweet” exclaimed Aemond as Valaera began to purr softly.

Valaera felt like he’d barely blinked, and their second wedding was upon them.

Aemond and Rhaenys had successfully acquired the traditional Valyrian robes, the invitations had been sent out and now Driftmark was packed with people and dragons alike.

True to his word, Aemon and Vhalarr were with Aemond.

Aerion was with Helaena and Baela.

Her sweet girls Vaella and Ryn were with her, wearing pretty cream and red dresses, with decorative flowers fastened in their hair.

“You look very beautiful mother” exclaimed Vaella.

“Thank you, my sweet girl,” replied Valaera blushing slightly.

A soft knock sounded on the door and then Rhaenyra appeared clutching something covered by a thin cloth.

“Your Grace” whispered Valaera as she bowed respectfully.

“I might be the Queen, but I am still your mother” replied Rhaenyra.

“Apologise mother,” said Valaera.

“Grandma. Mother pretty” cooed Ryn.

“I agree, your mother is very pretty” said Rhaenyra smiling brightly.

“W-What do you have there?” asked Valaera.

“It’s the traditional headdress for a Valyrian ceremony, I wore it on my wedding to Daemon and now you shall wear it” said Rhaenyra as she removed the cloth and began placing the ornate circlet on Valaera’s head.

“I remember you looked so beautiful that day” whispered Valaera.

“Thank you my sweet one, and you look just as beautiful today” exclaimed Rhaenyra.

After her mother had finished attaching the headdress, Valaera turned to the looking glass and gasped. Shee truly looked like a vision of old Valyria.

I wonder what Aemond looks like in his traditional robes.

“I-I wish to apologise Valaera”.

“Mother?” questioned Valaera.

“It was wrong of me to betroth Vaella and Jaehaerys without talking to you and Aemond first. I did not wish for this rift to grow between us. I love you my darling and I just want you to be happy, I want my grandchildren to be happy,” said Rhaenyra.

“I am happy mother. Immeasurably so” replied Valaera.

“I know that me and my brother will not always get on. But I am thankful that he loves you as fiercely as he does. He is a devoted husband and a loving father” muttered Rhaenyra.

“Aemond means the world to me mother. He is my twin flame-“

“-And you were always meant to burn together” said Rhaenyra smiling.

“I love you mother. Never forget that”.

“I love you too sweet girl. Now, let’s get you married. Again” replied Rhaenyra.

Valaera took a deep shuddering breath and then held both of her daughters hands.

“I-I’m ready” said Valaera firmly.

This time there was no fear.

There was only love.

Valaera’s heart leaped with joy at the sight of Aemond and their sons standing at the altar.

“īlon jorrāelan muña” whispered Vaella (We love you mother).

“Avy jorrāelan tolī issa dōna hāedari” replied Valaera (I love you too my sweet girls).

“Kepa iksos gevie” said Ryn (Father is beautiful).

“I agree my darling he truly is” exclaimed Valaera happily.

Aemond of course was dressed in the matching traditional robes, but his long silver hair was unbound and hung loosely around his shoulders. He’d also removed his eyepatch, his sapphire on full display, twinkling in the sunlight.

Vhalarr and Aemon were standing proud next to their father wearing matching outfits of red, cream and gold, their hair braided and tidy.

“Y-You look beautiful” whispered Aemond as Valaera approached.

“As do you my love” replied Valaera.

“Are you ready?” asked Lord Corlys.

“Yes. Yes, we are” said Valaera as she took Aemond’s hand in hers.

Lord Corlys smiled and after a few moments of silence, the ceremony began.

“Hen lanoti ānogar, Va sȳndroti vaedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdroma āirza sīr, Izulī amapā perzi, Prumī lanti sēteksi, Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozundesi, Syndroro ono jēdo, Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi”

(Blood of two, Joined as one, Ghostly flame and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers, Forged in fourteen fires, A future promised in glass, The stars stand witness, The vow spoken through time, Of darkness and light)

Aemond and Valaera each took turns in cutting the other’s lip with a dragon glass blade and marking each other’s forehead with the symbols of fire and blood.

Aemond cuts his hand and then offers the blade to Valaera who does the same.

As they face each other once more, both Alpha and Omega join hands allowing their blood to flow into one another.

Once the vows are complete, they allow their blood to mix with a kiss.

A loud booming roar echoes across the sky as Vhagar and Arrax fly overhead, the other dragons soon join in and Driftmark is alight with sounds of a dragons song, unlike anybody has ever heard before.

As they part, Valaera and Aemond gaze upon one another.

“Will you love me Aemond, until the day I die?” asked Valaera.

“No. Much longer than that Valaera. Much longer” replied Aemond as he took his Omega’s face in his hands and kissed him once more.

-Epilogue -

“You won’t let me fall, will you?”

“Never” replied Aemond as he held his daughter’s hand tight.

Today was the day that his little girl was getting married.

He must admit it came as quite a surprise when Ryn presented as an Alpha. He felt for sure that she would either be an Omega or Beta.

But nothing was more of a shock than his son Aemon presenting as an Omega.

Valaera of course was delighted, another Omega in the family.

Aemon however found it difficult, he had spent years training with the sword, dedicating himself to his education and becoming the best dragon rider he could in order to emulate his Alpha father. Only to present as an Omega.

Aemon was convinced that the gods were playing a cruel joke on him. Omega’s were supposed to be soft and delicate; he was sharp and lean. His presentation had changed his entire future and he hated it.

He didn’t want to think of being married or mated to an Alpha. The thought of taking a knot sounded so foreign to him.

He was meant to be an Alpha not an Omega. Nothing his mother or father could say would ever make him feel any better.

The only thing that gave him any kind of reprieve was his dragon Vhagon.

Until his younger sister Ryn presented as an Alpha.

It was a strange feeling; sure, they’d always been close when they were children. But now it was like there was something else. A voice inside him, calling out for her.

He tried to ignore it first, but the more time he spent around his Alpha sister, the louder the voice became.

He started to touch himself at the thought of her, which made him ashamed.

Aemon wasn’t even sure that his sister felt the same way, until one day she’d cornered him after he’d been trying to avoid her, and she kissed him.

It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

The voice inside him was singing.

Whilst he was initially worried what his sister expected of him, he soon realised that he had nothing to worry about.

Ryn accepted him for who he was. She never once tried to change him.

Omega’s were supposed to be submissive, yet Aemon was defiant and strong willed.

Ryn seemed to like that about him.

She was his Alpha, and he was her Omega.

Revealing their relationship to their family had actually been easy. As their parents exchanged knowing glances, it seemed as though their relationship wasn’t much of a surprise after all and as soon as Ryn turned six and ten, they were to be married.

When Aemond placed his daughters hand into Aemon’s he smiled.

“Now I know I don’t have to threaten you like I did Jaehaerys” muttered Aemond.

“I’m fully aware of my duties father and I’m well aware of what will happen should I hurt Ryn”.

“Good lad. Just got to be sure of these things” whispered Aemond as he turned on his heel and took a seat next to Valaera.

“That wasn’t you threatening our son, was it?” asked Valaera smiling.

“No, I was just giving him a friendly warning that’s all” replied Aemond.

“That better be all it was. Jaehaerys is still terrified of you”.

“Good” said Aemond proudly.

I did what any father would do. I regret nothing. Jaehaerys will remember to take care of Vaella or they’ll never find his body.

The wedding between Ryn and Aemon went off without a hitch, despite Aegon trying his best to stir things up a bit by coughing loudly during the vows. But a glare from Valaera put a stop to any other shenanigans.

“I still can’t believe it. Our children are married” exclaimed Valaera.

“We still have others that are not yet married my sweet” replied Aemond.

“Aerion is nearing his presentation age-” said Valaera.

“- And there’s still Aegar, and Corla to keep us occupied” exclaimed Aemond.

Valaera smiled at the mention of their younger pups.

Aegar who was named after his uncle, was an energetic little boy who loved to draw and train with his father.

Corla was the pup that took them by surprise. Both Aemond and Valaera thought that they were done having children, especially after Aegar’s difficult birth which nearly killed Valaera.

But after a late-night dragon flight and incredible sex on the beach, Valaera forgot to drink moontea and nine moons later Corla was born, she had of course been named in honour of Lord Corlys who had passed away some months before her birth.

Not to mention they had recently become grandparents, Vhalarr and his wife Daena had been blessed with a son who they named Lucerys.

Jaehaerys and Vaella had twins named Aerys and Aeraea.

After the wedding was complete, it was time for the celebration, which due to the amount of guests had to be held outside.

Aemond watched silently as Ryn danced with Aemon. He was so proud of all his pups, but Ryn definitely had a special place in his heart, due to her acceptance of Aemon after his surprise presentation as an Omega and her declaration that she loved him exactly as he is.

“A wonderful day” said Aegon smiling.

“If you’re going to cause trouble you can bog off” replied Aemond.

“Would I ever do such a thing?” laughed Aegon as he took a sip of wine.

“Is that a trick question?” asked Aemond.

“He’s so much like you isn’t he, especially with the hair and the weird fixation with every item of clothing needing to be black or leather” mused Aegon smirking.

“Indeed” muttered Aemond choosing to ignore his brother's sarcastic dig.

“How’s he coping with being an Omega”.

“It took some adjustment, but he’s getting there. Ryn really helped” said Aemond.

“She’s a good girl. Reminds me a lot of Valaera”.

“I know you hoped that Aemon would be for Maela but-“

“-They weren’t compatible and I’m not talking about their presentations” said Aegon.

“I don’t think there was anyone else for Aemon if I’m honest. I can say with absolute certainty that if he didn’t marry Ryn then he wouldn’t have married anyone” replied Aemond.

“Is he prepared for the consummation?”

“I hope so, considering they’ve already bedded one another” whispered Aemond.

“What! When?” asked Aegon quietly.

“A few weeks before Ryn’s name day. Aemon confessed when I caught them both harassing the maester for moontea” said Aemond.

“Does Valaera know?”

“Of course, she does. I think Aemon had been asking questions about male Omega’s coupling with Alpha’s” mumbled Aemond.

“I’m surprised your so calm about it”.

“Initially I wasn’t very happy but there was not a lot I could do once the deed had already been done and they were due to marry anyway” replied Aemond.

“Well, you had sex before marriage” said Aegon.

“Only because you dragged me to the street of silk on my thirteenth name day and claimed it was your duty to ensure that I was as educated as you were” snapped Aemond.

“You learnt much and more from that did you not?” asked Aegon.

“From one visit? All I learnt that day was not to listen to my wastrel of a brother”.

“You seem to please your Omega enough, all the children you have” retorted Aegon.

“That’s because I devoted myself to worshipping Valaera and learning through our bond how we could please one another”

“You sure it’s got nothing to do with her sweet tasting cunny?” laughed Aegon.

“This is neither the time nor the place for your vulgarity” growled Aemond.

“Not denying it though are you. Say what you want brother but your cuntstruck for your ‘strong’ bastard” giggled Aegon.

“You have ten seconds to leave my presence otherwise I’m going to slam your head into the fucking table and then I will beat you death with that cup your holding” snarled Aemond.

“Ooooo, so violent and you kiss Valaera with that mouth” laughed Aegon.

“Piss off” groused Aemond.

Aegon refilled his cup and then returned to his seat next to Jacaerys who immediately began questioning the Omega.

“When are you going to learn not to let him get to you?”

“Mother” whispered Aemond.

“How are you doing?”

“Honestly. I think I’m still in shock that Ryn is actually married” replied Aemond.

“I felt the same on your wedding day” said Alicent.

“I’ve missed you” muttered Aemond as he wrapped his arms around his mother.

“Oh, my love, I’ve missed you too” replied Alicent.

“A-Are you proud of me?” asked Aemond.

“Of course, I am. You are the consort Lord to Driftmark, you’re an honourable husband and a loving father. I’m so proud that I get to call you my son” said Alicent smiling.

Aemond smiled and breathed in his mother’s flowery scent.

Valaera meanwhile had managed to snatch a few moments alone with Aemon.

“Does the bite hurt?” asked Aemon.

“For a moment, but it’s best to do it during the act” replied Valaera.

“I overheard some lords talking about a bedding ceremony-“

“You don’t have to worry; I will not subject you or Ryn to that” replied Valaera.

“Do we need to present the sheets”.

“Yes, but all you need to do is cut yourself in a place that no one will notice and a few drops on the sheets will do” whispered Valaera.

“I-I-“ stuttered Aemon nervously.

Valaera observed her son and she knew there was something bothering him. He had the same look on his face that Aemond always had when he was nervous.

“What is it my sweet boy?”

“I’m already with child mother” confessed Aemon lowering his head.

“Are you sure?” asked Valaera quietly.

“Yes. I missed my monthly bleeding and I feel sick” replied Aemon.

“It sounds as though you’re not very far into the pregnancy as your scent hasn’t changed yet, so just a few drops of blood on the sheets and we can say you got with child on your wedding night,” said Valaera.

“I’m sorry for getting with child before marrying Ryn”.

“I can’t exactly judge my darling” muttered Valaera.

“W-What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on sweet boy, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours,” said Valaera.

“A-About Harwin Strong and Grandma” asked Aemon looking over at Rhaenyra who was deep in conversation with Daemon.

“Yes. I’m a Velaryon in name only” whispered Valaera.

“B-But your Lady of the Tides”

“Your great grandsire once told me that history remembers names not blood,” said Valaera.

“He was a good man,” said Aemon.

“That he was” replied Valaera.

“I hope you’re not disappointed in me mother” exclaimed Aemon solemnly.

“I know presenting as an Omega was difficult for you, but I will never be disappointed in you. All of my pups are my greatest joy. But you are the one most like your father and you are something special”.

“Mother” gasped Aemon blushing.

“When you were born. The cord was wrapped around your neck and for the briefest of moments we thought that we had lost you”.

“Father said that was the reason why he’s so protective over us” replied Aemon.

“Your father has always that protective streak in him, but yes almost losing you caused him to become rather more focused on the safety of his pups” smiled Valaera.

“I love you mama” whispered Aemon.

“Y-You haven’t called me that since you were a small boy” uttered Valaera.

“I just want you to know that you will always be my mama,” said Aemon.

“Is everything ok?” asked Ryn curiously.

“Everything is fine my darling” replied Valaera as she wiped away her tears.

“Are you sure?”

Valaera nodded and placed a quick kiss on Ryn’s cheek.

“Take care of him sweet girl” whispered Valaera.

“I will. I promise” replied Ryn.

“That’s my girl”.

“Do you think we could slip away?” asked Aemon as he took Ryn’s hand.

“You can leave whenever you like, the celebrations will continue in your absence”.

Aemon looked at Ryn who nodded her head, and soon the newly married couple left the party in favour of a more private venue.

“Do you think he’s really ok?” asked Vhalarr.

“He will be, you worry too much”.

“He’s my little brother. Of course, I worry” replied Vhalarr.

“Where’s my grandson?” asked Valaera.

“He’s with Rhaena, something about seahorses” said Vhalarr.

“How are you doing anyway?”

“I’m good, the trade deal with Pentos is proving difficult but I don’t really want to talk business today” muttered Vhalarr.

“It’ll work out, try not to stress too much,” said Valaera.

“He can’t help it” laughed Vaella.

“Oh, shut it you” retorted Vhalarr.

“Why don’t you make me”.

“Honestly you two” exclaimed Valaera.

“What’s wrong with my good brother?” asked Vhalarr.

“The twins were awake most of the night”.

“I don’t miss those days” said Valaera smiling.

“Mother. Corla is eating sand again” shouted Aegar.

“Oh for the love of-“ exclaimed Valaera as she snatched her youngest daughter from the ground and began scooping the sand from her mouth.

“I’ll get her cleaned up my Lady” offered Tarla.

“Thank you, Tarla. I’m sure I’ll find a seashell in there one day” replied Valaera.

“I’m sure it could be much worse” laughed Tarla as she took Corla.

“Ahh how’s my namesake doing?” asked Aegon loudly.

“You stink uncle Aegon” said Aegar wrinkling his nose.

“Of what?”

“Piss wine” retorted Aegar.

“AEGAR” exclaimed Valaera as Vhalarr and Vaella began laughing.

“That’s what father calls it” muttered Aegar.

“Well, I will be having words with your father” said Valaera sternly.

“About what?” asked Aemond.

“Me saying piss wine, when that’s what you called it” replied Aegar.

“I never meant for you to repeat it boy” gasped Aemond.

“Well he did and now-“ gasped Valaera as Aemond surged forward and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Ewww gross” exclaimed Aegar.

“You won’t be saying that when your older” yelled Aegon.

“Aegon that’s enough” warned Jace.

“Oh, come on love, it’s just a bit of fun”.

“Yeah, and you’ve had too much wine. Now come and sit down” said Jace as he pulled his Omega back to his seat.

“I best go and rescue Jaehaerys” said Vaella.

“I’ll come and help” offered Vhalarr.

“Don’t think that gets you off the hook, Alpha” whispered Valaera feeling dazed.

“Maybe later when I stuff my knot into your cunny?”

“I-I think that will be sufficient” mumbled Valaera blushing.

“If you’re a good girl, I might even use my tongue first” whispered Aemond.

Valaera shook her head in disbelief at her Alpha before she pressed another kiss to his lips.

“Where’s Aerion?” asked Valaera.

“Speaking to Rhaenar” replied Aemond as he nuzzled Valaera’s mating mark.

“Is that such a good idea, considering he’s so close to his presentation?”

“You have a point” replied Aemond as he nodded his head at one of the guards, who understood the wordless command and went to stand next to Aerion who rolled his eyes.

“Everything ok with your mother?” asked Valaera.

“It’s fine, now can we retire for the night or is it too early?

“We can’t leave just yet. But soon” whispered Valaera.

“Don’t make me wait too much longer, I’ve been dying to get you alone all day”.

“Well, I need to see to the children first and judging from the state of your brother, he’s going to need escorting to his room” said Valaera nodding towards Aegon who was slumped in his seat.

“Let Jacaerys see to that, he’s my brother’s Alpha. Meanwhile we have people that can help with the children”.

“But Alpha” whined Valaera.

“No Valaera. You’ve been on your feet practically all day. Let us retire for the night”.

Valaera wanted to disobey on principle, but she loved it when her Alpha asserted his natural authority and dominance.

“Ok. Let me just ask the guards and Tarla to watch out for the children”.

“Hurry up my Omega, otherwise I will ravish you right here” muttered Aemond.

“You promise” challenged Valaera.

“Hm”

After leaving instructions with the guards and Tarla. Valaera found herself being whisked away from the celebrations and dragged back to the chambers she shared with her husband.

“Now my sweet. Take off your clothes” ordered Aemond.

“A-Aemond” gasped Valaera.

“I won’t ask you again” growled Aemond as he pulled off his own clothes and then sat on a chaise lounge.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Valaera began pulling off her clothes quickly, and soon she was standing in front of her Alpha as naked as her name day.

“Good girl. Now come here” said Aemond as he patted his naked thigh.

Valaera took a deep breath and sat on her Alpha’s lap; her legs spread open.

“I hope you have the energy my sweet, because I plan to have you many times this night”.

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