#nor do i have any fabric of that color lying around

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn found a stack of neatly laid gowns waiting for her when she returned from the library. He’d lounged in a chair like a bored, spoiled prince, watching her catalog the paltry books Kai had arranged for her to have access to.

Looking at her list, Gwyn found nothing of use. Most of it centered around female troubles—childbirth, raising children, and ailments that seemed to afflict females only. Did the royals at Montessere genuinely think she’d come all this way to learn about midwifery? Gwyn had to reign in her frustration. This was not her area of study and though she’d always wanted children, she doubted she’d ever have them.

Azriel didn’t return with her, nor did he bother to explain where he was going. He merely left her with a babysitter. One of his shadows, perched on her shoulder with what she assumed was curiosity.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked it, watching as it slithered toward the neatly made bed to examine the dresses. No doubt these were a gift from the prince and not wearing one would be a snub, but…

Gwyn took a breath. “Out there,” she said, pointing toward the common room she and Azriel shared. She didn’t know if he could see through his shadows, and didn’t need the added embarrassment of him knowing what she looked like naked. And she certainly didn’t want him to see her in the dress if she choose to risk Kai’s wrath and not wear it.

His shadow balked, but eventually slithered away, pausing just outside the doorframe. Gwyn slammed it shut, though she felt a small prick of guilt. Enough that she murmured, “It’s not personal.”

After all—it wasn’t the shadows fault it was attached to Azriel. 

Carefully, Gwyn pulled her sisters evoking stone from where it hid in her pocket and let it lay on the bed beside the gowns. They were all cut in a similar style, with the laced, corset bodice and the straps that would hold it to her shoulders white delicate fabric hung against the tops of her arms. It would create a very specific shape—one she wasn’t certain she had. 

And Kai had sent nearly every color. No pink, she assumed because of her red hair, but greens and purples and blues. Darker, warmer colors that would compliment her fair skin. The fact he’d put any thought into it at all was confusing. Generous and unwanted, all at once. Gwyn didn’t know what to make of it and wished Nesta was with her to explain his intentions. 

Maybe she’d write a letter.

Gwyn shimmied into the amethyst dress, sucking in a breath before doing her laces. She didn’t pull them tight, and had to admit it was comfortable enough. There were pockets, which meant she wouldn’t be without her sister, which was the one thing she found intolerable. Turning to the mirror, Gwyn was surprised to find she did have a shape, even if the gown created it for her. Her body curved gently, while the corseted top gently pushed the tops of her breasts upwards toward her collarbone. A necklace would have drawn anyones attention to them immediately, which convinced Gwyn not to wear one.

She opened the door, tugging at her skirt for the shadow to look, which she spoke the language Azriel had mastered if only to get its genuine opinion. If shadows even cared about such things. 

“It’s…a lot,” she finally managed, embarrassed by how she looked and how she felt about her appearance. She shouldn’t care…but turning back to her reflection, she thought she looked good. Pretty, even, which she wasn’t supposed to care about. All Gwyn was supposed to worry about was serving the mother goddess, though she’d known plenty of more established priestesses who’d primped and preened—who’d cared for their appearance and how they presented themselves to the people they were attracted to. 

Catrin cared, a traitorous voice reminded her. 

A knock on the door pulled Gwyn from her thoughts. The shadow, once ribboning around her neck, vanished so quickly she thought she’d imagined its presence. Gwyn lunged for her sisters evoking stone, sliding into her pocket as the person on the other end entered her bedroom without waiting for her to respond. She met Kai in the lounge, wishing Azriel was with her.

Was Kai supposed to be here? Smiling, he said, “Oh good. You found my gift.”

Gwyn tugged at the sleeve tapered against her hand, wishing suddenly she’d snubbed him. “It was incredibly generous for—”

“It was nothing,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. He kept his eyes on her face, extending a pale, slim hand toward her. Gwyn didn’t want to take it, if only because everything about him felt too possessive. 

She did, though, because this was a job and Gwyn wasn’t going to prove anyone right about her. Not Merril.

Not Azriel.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling her hand into the crook of his elbow. She was, and there seemed no danger in admitting as much.

“Yes. Starving, actually.”

He smiled again—a genuine thing that made him appear alive and handsome. There was color to his cheeks and a vibrancy to his eyes that made her wonder why he hadn’t snagged some pretty female for a wife. What was he waiting on, she wondered? 

“You’ll get to meet most of the court and their wives,” he said, taking for granted that his court was made up entirely of males. It was that simple sentence that grounded Gwyn. He was handsome and not for her. A prince's attention was flattering, certainly, if it amounted to anything more than being kind to foreigners at court. But she could see what a future with him would entail—a quiet consort, pretty and sweet as she raised his young without much more. And while Gwyn certainly didn’t begrudge anyone who wanted that future, it was not one she hoped for herself.

“Will your…friend…be joining us?” he continued, oblivious to the slant of her thought. It was amusing to hear Azriel called her friend. She doubted he’d consider himself that, though there was also a question within that question.

What is he to you?

She was content not to answer it. Let them imagine whatever scenario they liked. “I would imagine he is.”

“Are there…many…like him, where you come from?”

Rhysand hadn’t said she couldn’t share that information, so Gwyn nodded. “Yes. Wings are fairly common in Prythian.”

“Among High Fae?” Kai questioned in a tone she didn’t quite care for. Because, no, they weren’t, and surely Kai would have known that. She wondered why it mattered, though it very obviously did.

“I guess we’re not as concerned about those distinctions in Prythian,” Gwyn lied. She knew some courts, like Night and Dawn and Summer were more progressive, but others very clearly looked down on people like Azriel, who were Illyrian and not High Fae. She’d heard from Nesta how Eris Vanserra often referred to Cassian as a low-born brute. 

Is that what Kai thought of Azriel? If he did, he had enough tact not to say so. “Interesting,” was what he said instead. “It seems we have a lot to learn from each other.”

“You met Morrigan, didn’t you?” she blurted out without thinking.

A shadow passed over Kai’s face, twisting his features for only a moment. Gone was the lovely, moon-lit prince, replaced with someone ugly and cold and cruel. She blinked and he was back, smiling tightly. “In Vallahan, yes. She was…quite the character. The High Lord’s cousin, is she not?”

“She is,” Gwyn confirmed.

Kai only grunted, leading Gwyn toward a pair of carved, double doors. Gwyn’s steps slowed at the sight of a figure cut in the wood, sword raised while someone just beneath raised up their hand in a futile attempt to stop the coming blow. It was a gruesome picture made worse by Kai’s grin.

“A long dead ancestor of mine,” he said, reaching for the handle of the door. “Evocative, isn’t it?”

Gwyn didn’t know what to say to that, and was spared by a cold, deep voice replying, “He lost his own head, didn’t he?”

They whipped around to find Azriel, wings spread casually behind his body as he approached. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that told Gwyn whatever he’d been up to had been successful. That look shifted as he took her in, eyes sliding down her body and too late, she’d forgotten she’d put on a Montessere style dress. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her face, his expression utterly blank. Beside Gwyn, Kai ground his teeth loudly.

“He did.”

“To Vallahan, if I remember correctly?” Azriel needled, coming closer. He turned those brutal, piercing eyes wholly on Kai who seemed to shrink beneath it. She hadn’t realize how much taller Azriel was until that moment, but Kai seemed to come to his knees when Azriel pulled himself up to his full height. Between the two, there was no comparison—Azriel could have wiped Kai from the face of the world with one backhanded blow. 

Why did that thought please her so much? 

“Is there a reason you’re bringing this up?” Kai demanded, placing his hand over Gwyn’s. Azriel caught it, eyes sharpening with lethal interest. She wanted to pull away and didn’t, too afraid she’d signal the wrong thing. They weren’t interested in her at all—this was all posturing, all pure male bullshit. 

Azriel shook his head, causing a lock of his thick, dark to fall against his eyes. “Just want to make sure Gwyn understands the geo-politics of this place.”

“I doubt she needs to concern herself with such things,” Kai dismissed, all but withering beneath Azriel’s cruel smile.

“Oh? Do you doubt that? I don’t.”

Gwyn cleared her throat. She didn’t know how she’d ever explain this moment to Rhysand. She had the worst feeling if Azriel couldn’t reign it in, they’d be facing a different sort of war. “I’m still hungry,” she announced in an attempt to diffuse the tension that had arisen between Kai and Azriel. “If you two are done, I think I’d like to go eat.”

And then, for good measure, she slipped her arm from Kai’s grip. Azriel exhaled, inclining his head toward the doors. Turning back, Gwyn found herself far more settled knowing that the king about to kill that man had died in the same brutal fashion.

And inwardly, she cursed Azriel for being the one to help soothe her. He hadn’t know, had he? She stepped through the doors first, feeling him just at her back. Kai, thwarted and clearly irritated, made his way ahead toward a high table at the far end of the dark, cavernous room. Huge chandeliers made of sparkling crystal lit the space, throwing long shadows over the onyx marble floors. As usual, the tall windows were covered by thick, velvet curtains that made the air seem to shimmer with heat. Azriel skimmed his hands against her spine, lowering his head.

“What are you wearing?” he whispered, leading her toward a small, round table at the furthest end of the room. As usual, everyone did a double take as they passed, stunned by his perfect features. It was starting to annoy her. 

“A gift,” she said, swallowing her fear that he hated it and was about to say so. Gwyn yanked out her chair, sitting before he could do something stupid like pull it out. Behind her, Gwyn could feel Kai’s eyes on her back though she didn’t dare turn around.

Azriel sat across from her, wincing at the hard back against his wings. “I thought it might be Nestas,” was all he said in response. That was a best case scenario, she decided. He hadn’t complemented her, at least. She didn’t know what she would have done if he did.

“I found the library in the city,” he added after a moment, nodding his head when a servant slithered by to place plates and metal covered dishes before them. The chatter in the room obscured his voice well enough, though Gwyn wasn’t stupid enough to think they weren’t being watched by more than just the royal family.

“I’ll wait for Kai to show me,” she said dismissively, too focused on cataloging the courtiers around them to notice the male in front of her.

She’d irritated him. “Great. I’ll let Rhysand know I’m hardly needed here. Perhaps he’ll reassign me,” Azriel bit out, pushing away from the table abruptly.

Gwyn huffed out a sigh. “Sit back down.”

But he didn’t. Azriel turned, his face all but carved from stone. She wanted to go after him—to explain more than just her dismissive remark, but everything. As if that would matter, she reminded herself bitterly. As if him knowing everything would change the way he looked at her, the way he acted. So Gwyn let him go, resigning herself to eating in silence.

And though a multitude of wives came to talk with her the moment Azriel vanished, Gwyn’s thoughts were stuck on Azriel.

Moreso when she returned to their shared room, joined by that same friendly shadow he had trailing her. Floating around her bed doing little joyful backflips, Gwyn found a rich azure bound book waiting for her.

Montessere, Vallahan, and Rask: A History of Treatsies from Gwydion to Armand. 

Gwyn sighed.

He’d gifted her a book.

AZRIEL:

Azriel had found the perfect spot to hide among the disconcerting Monstesseran palace. That spire, stretching to a steepled point high above the sky, obscured him from anyone who might peer upward and gave him a perfect view of the city and beyond. Behind him lay the sea and his home that he was missing more by the second, and in front of him was the city of Vignon, which had nothing on Velaris. Azriel had been taken aback by the suffering he’d stumbled upon and a king who’d shut himself away, sealing himself from his people and their problems. There was great wealth alongside the poverty, without much in between, and in between it all lay the library of Montessere. It was paltry in comparison to home, and laughable to someone like Gwyn, and still it housed far more than the embarrassment she’d been provided in the palace.

And she didn’t even want to see it without the prying eyes of the prince. That bothered him more than he was willing to admit. Knees drawn to his chest, Azriel forced himself to take a cool breath of night air, calming his raging temper. If he went back to their shared room, he was certain he’d find himself in another heated exchange with the priestess.

She was under his skin and he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why. That stupid dress and her stupid hand on his stupid arm…Azriel wanted to roar at the prince and then shake her. Didn’t she have any sense? Couldn’t she see what he wanted from her? He was too possessive already, his scent wrapped around her like thorny vines. She was going to give him the wrong idea and they’d have an international incident on their hands.

It wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. And he was too worked up, too emotional. It wasn’t even Gwyn’s fault—not really. He was still tangled up about the revelation about Mor and Elain’s anger and the constant threat of Lucien and…and that godsdamned dress. 

Azriel rose to his feet, about to leap off and take to the skies when a whisper from his shadows stopped him.

She’s in bed reading the book.

How did the Queen get up here without wings? 

Azriel halted, turning in a half circle. This was the spire the king and Kai had said the queen had leapt from…but how? He’d flown, courtesy of the wings at his back, but the stairs only trailed up to a balcony far, far below him. Would that jump kill an immortal? He jumped, his wings ballooning in the wind to guide him lower and lower, until he was level with that balcony. It was still a far jump…but Azriel didn’t think it was fatal.

Maybe for a human, with their fragile bones and useless blood. But for someone as long-lived as a faerie queen? No, he decided. She’d need to go to the very top and let the wind take her to the sharp rocks against the shore line, where the obsidian would have cut through her spine and stopped her heart. 

“Find out what the courtiers know,” Azriel murmured against the wind, letting his shadows pick up the command. He very much doubted the well-bred Montesseran courtiers were going to engage in a little gossip with the likes of him. As Azriel made his way to the ground, and with great hatred, he tried to think of what Vanserra would do.

Seduce them, the stupid bastard.

He was shit at pillow talk. He didn’t want to know their thoughts, only what their pussy tasted like. And the only words he wanted to hear were more and please and oh gods, untie me. 

Still, he didn’t wholly dismiss it. If all else failed, Azriel would pick out the most miserable looking wife and work a little charm and then…well. He’d figured it out, he reasoned. If Vanserra could manage it, how difficult could it be? 

Azriel returned to the room he was sharing with Gwyn to find her door closed tight. Fine, he thought, though the sight of it irked him. Two of his shadows slithered off, leaving him with just two more of the five he had in totality. He could feel them watching, wishing they, too, could join in whatever frivolity was happening in Gwyn’s room.

“Go,” he said with a sigh. He didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do, besides. His shadows zipped off, vanishing beneath the crack in Gwyn’s door.

“Oh, hello,” he heard her say with clear and obvious delight. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand to know where her enthusiasm for him was, but Azriel leashed it. He didn’t need another reminder that she hated the mere sight of him. Hated him so much that she couldn’t be bothered to tell him what he’d done to make her stop training with him. 

Azriel sighed, closing his door silently. He’d wracked his brain before and wouldn’t let it torment him tonight. Not when he needed to forget everything stressing him out so he could focus on doing his job and not getting himself killed. Azriel stripped off his leathers, rolling his shoulders when the heavy, thick armor was off his tight skin. He needed a bath more than anything, but it would have to wait—at least, for now. Azriel unlaced his boots before undoing his pants with a frustrated grunt. Why was he wearing battle-ready clothing in a place where no one seemed to be armed? He’d switch to a tunic which would be a little more functional and far easier to get at the thing he wanted, which so happened to be his cock. 

Azriel flopped back on the bed with a groan, stretching his tired, aching muscles. It felt like a week had passed when in reality, it had been only one day. What would he be like in a week? He’d need a vacation—something Rhys had been begging him to take for centuries. He’d never wanted one before Gwyn.

He wanted one now, though he had no fucking idea where he’d go. Somewhere quiet and cold—maybe high up in the mountains in Dawn, where he could have some peace…and would be bored within a day. He’d be crawling back to Rhys before nightfall, begging for something to do.

Or slithering back into the River House so he could listen to Nyx’s raucous giggling and Feyre’s shrieks as she chased him around. That, he decided, was music to his ears. Azriel had never had much to say and didn’t like to draw attention to himself, but he liked being in the presence of others who did talk—who smiled and laughed and made him feel like he was part of something special. 

He missed home, he decided, one hand on his thigh. It seemed wrong to touch himself while he was missing his friends and family so Azriel took a breath and cleared his head of thoughts of home and tried to focus on the last person who touched him because they wanted him. He hadn’t known her name, of course. He so rarely did. But she’d been beautiful and attentive and after the revelation with Mor, Azriel had needed someone to take his mind off his self-loathing and misery.

How had he missed something that, in retrospect, felt obvious? Settling himself against soft pillows, his wings draped on either side of him, Azriel reached for his flaccid cock and gave it a stroke. His body responded immediately, rising with each new pump against the memory of that female on her knees, licking up the length of his cock. He could still recall his hand fisted in her hair coppery brown hair, could remember the way her teal eyes—

“Fuck,” he growled. Her hair had been blonde, her eyes green. “Focus.”

But his body wasn’t inclined to listen because right then, all Azriel could feel were Gwyn small, lithe hands pressed against his lower stomach as she demanded he move. His hips bucked off the bed, attempting to comply with the request. He could smell her, too—viola and cinnamon, eyes on her mouth and— “No,” he hissed, refusing to complicate this mission by stroking himself to Gwyn’s beautiful face. She hated him. He wasn’t terribly fond of her, either. 

But Azriel was strung tight now, pleasure coiling hotly through his stomach before settling in his balls as release had begun to gather. His hand never stopped even when his mind tried to put him back where he’d started—with the female that lacked a gag reflex. She’d swallowed him root to tip, tears blurring in teal eyes and—

“Oh for Cauldron’s sake!” he exploded, yanking his hand away from his throbbing cock. What was wrong with him? 

Azriel took a breath, skin humming for him to continue. Stop thinking about Gwyn. He hadn’t thought of her in months. He didn’t need to think of her now, either. Resettling himself and closing his eyes, Azriel fisted his cock once more. And for a moment, it worked. He was focused on the memory of that female’s tongue gliding over the head of his cock, building higher and higher until—

“Azriel? Are you awake?” Gwyns soft voice on the other end of the door called, breathless and sweet.

Azriel came all over his hand, his mind emptied of everything else. He couldn’t say a word, so focused on not letting her hear him finish to the sound of his name on her lips. 

Oh, gods, he thought to himself. He couldn’t stop, his release coating his thigh and hands as wave after wave of pleasure made his body shake. It felt as though she’d pulled it out of him like a fish on a hook and the violence both overwhelmed and excited him.

He couldn’t remember the last time touching himself had felt that good.

Maybe it never had. 

Composing himself as he came down, Azriel cleared his throat. “Yes,” he called, praying she didn’t open the door as he hastily swung his body off the bed to retreat into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you put a dagger under my pillow?”

Guilt pricked at his chest. “Yes.”

He should have asked.

There was a soft pause, and then— “Thank you.”

Azriel exhaled, ignoring the kernel of pleasure that bloomed in his gut. Turning on the tap, to wash away his sins, Azriel called back, “It was nothing.”

He didn’t go out into the common area. She’d scent his arousal and know what he’d been doing—and though she wouldn’t know she was the subject of his fantasies, Azriel would. So he turned the bath on until the water was scalding, well aware Gwyn had padded away, though this time he didn’t hear her door click shut.

And Azriel decided that was progress.

[moseslikellamas]

Cinders in the Dark pt.5

Pairing - Benjicot Blackwood x Whent!OC

Summary - The lord of Raventree arrives.

Warnings - Magic, delusions, trickery, frightening imagery, blood, graphic depictions of violence, depiction of death, depictions of panic attack, anxious thoughts, grief, not canon, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Listen, I’m about to play VERY fast and lose with both how magic operates in asoiaf and significant cannon aspects. We’re all gonna have to suspend our disbelief and believe in the heart of the cards.

Lucinda had found her way back upstairs to her room much easier than she would’ve thought possible. She had even found her abandoned torch lying on the ground still flickering. As weird as things were, this did not concern her. She’d just picked it up and continued on her way back. Then she went up to her room and promptly fell asleep, exhausted.

She dreamed of being young again, just a small girl climbing trees and wading in creeks. Carefree and unencumbered. She dreamed of the sun on her face and the sound of her peers laughing. Most of all she dreamed of being held and the soft sounds of shared sleep. They twisted together in a golden ray of hope, something she had forgotten the feeling of.

When she woke, it was with purpose and a plan. The evening was late but no one had come up for her, so she had to assume the lord had not arrived. She set to work getting dressed, wearing another gray dress that nearly blended in with the depressing castle stones. It would’ve blended in completely if it weren’t for the embroidered front fabric which displayed her house colors and sigil. The tiny bats had garnets sewn in as eyes and they would shimmer in the torchlight whenever she moved. She’d hand stitched several dresses over the years. It was good to have hobbies in a place where reality twisted, it was something concrete to hold on to.

She spun around to face her cluttered desk, suddenly remembering the sword she had grabbed and looking for it. It lay untouched where she’d thrown it before collapsing into sleep. She walked over to it slowly, admiring the way the oil slick pattern shifted in the firelight, the shadows dancing along the blade. It didn’t make sense, any of it. The charred rib bone, the crown, nor the sword should exist because a burning pile of bones cannot give you physical objects. And yet all three lay there staring back at her accusatory. She didn’t own a sword sheath, why would she? But she had plenty of belts to spare. So she tied a few together and slid the sword in between, then strapped it to her side.

Lucinda had never swung a sword before and didn’t really intend to now. It was merely for show. And when a burning omen gives you a gift, you carry it. She tucked the rib in her dress top against her skin, but she did not wear the bramble crown. It was still coated in her blood and she didn’t relish wearing it again ever. So she just left it on her desk. The sun was nearly gone at this point, just the faintest bits of light were visible in the sunset.

Then she headed up the stairs two at a time to visit the witch again.

“S’not going to work.” She said right off first thing.

Lucinda huffed at her, irritated. “No lord is immune to Hemlock and I know you possess some.”

“Well that’s true enough. But that pretty blade of yours is just going to suck it up. How’d you like the Sept of Burnished Night?”

That was a nonsensical order of words to Lucinda. “Sept of what?” How could the night be burnished? It wasn’t a sword. She shook her head, irrelevant.

“The room you got the sword in, of course. Didn’t you see all of the polished stones?”

She’d been a bit busy going insane to admire the color or quality of the stone in the massively creepy room.

“Look, I don’t care about the Sept. If I can’t poison the blade then what can I do?”

The witch looked at her innocently. “Wait and see what happens? Easy enough.”

“Agh! Help me out here. I can’t just go in empty handed.”

But the witch had only clapped her hands and extinguished the light, leaving her alone again. Lucinda stood angrily in the doorway, the clear night sky peeking in through the windows. Then she sighed and started the long walk down to the main hall. All of the torches were out again and this time she knew she wasn’t leaving any windows open. It made the stairs dark and hard to navigate. She had to hug the wall because she couldn’t tell where the stairs ended. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom.

She stepped into the great hall and had that relief stolen. All of the air was sucked out of her at the sight of hundreds of candles positioned around the room. They were on the floor, stacked on tables, high up on shelves. Everywhere she looked was the dim glow of a million tiny flames. She turned around and around, taking it all in. Why had they done this? And where was everyone? Surely she hadn’t missed supper, had she? She started to walk towards the kitchens to see what was going on in there but before she could reach the other side of the main hall, people began bringing in the dishes.

The entire house staff must have been helping to prepare the feast because it was an endless stream of people that came and went. Setting dishes down and then quickly exiting to go grab the rest. Lucinda decided she might wait somewhere else after all. She turned to leave but was stopped by a flood of Blackwood men coming in through the doorway. She hadn’t seen how many men had come originally with the imposter lord. It had only been the copy and a handful of men when they stood in front of her father that first time. Now she saw it was a quarter of a battalion at least.

Unable to fight through the incoming crowd she took her seat up on the dais, and waited for her father to arrive. The hall was eerily silent for the amount of men inhabiting it and it made her skin crawl. The only thing keeping her from bolting was the familiar sight of Orwyll standing by the door. Curiously, the copy of Lord Blackwood never showed up and she wondered if somewhere in the halls was a dead body. There couldn’t be two of him, so he would rid himself of the copy. It was a glum thought. At last her father arrived with her stepmother and her two baby brothers. That was concerning to her. Why would they bring the babes out? But she didn’t have long to ponder this before their guest of honor burst in.

The Lord strode in wearing a rich ruby cloak that billowed behind him. His hand rested on his sword pommel when he came to rest in front of the dias. Her father stood, raised his glass and called for a toast.

“To uniting these two great houses in holy matrimony.”

She hadn’t even really registered her fathers words because she was too busy watching the hand movements the lord was making. A queer moving of his fingers in a downward motion before flicking them up. By the time she looked up to meet his eyes, it was too late to stop him. Orwyll was across the room by the door and could not have hoped to reach them in time. Her father was grabbed from behind and pulled backwards out of sight. It was worse for her stepmother who started to scream when they ripped the children from her.

That was what got Lucinda up and on her feet, sword pulled out, standing in front of her stepmother. Her arms were shaking so badly she was afraid she might drop it. Their own guards had finally arrived but were having to fight through the crowd in the hall before hoping to step foot inside. She watched in silent shock as Orwyll was cut down, blood coating the walls before soaking into them. Her attention was split between the chaos of fighting and defending her stepmother who was still screaming. She’d lost sight of the babes in the sea of men writhing around them.

Lord Blackwood stood in front of her, the candlelight reflected brightly in his eyes. He did not draw his own sword as he approached her. She was overwhelmed by the amount of things happening and her mind was trying to shut down. But she held fast and tried to swing at him when he got within range. It was a sad attempt and he’d simply batted the blade out of her hands. It hit the floor with an echoing clang. Her stepmother was still screaming behind her. The lord looked down at her.

“You’re not wearing your crown.”

She stared at him completely disoriented, saying nothing. That was when someone ended her stepmother's screaming, the sound of metal on flesh and then silence. Lucinda winced when she heard the sound of her body hitting the ground. She took one stuttering step backwards, her vision filling with black spots before she lost the fight to be conscious.

***

When Lucinda woke her head was pounding. She groaned, putting both hands on her head and rubbing. It took her a full minute before she would attempt to open her eyes and a minute more before she could force them to stay open. She sat up slowly, trying not to jostle her aching head. Her hand was wrapped up and she looked at it confused. The events of the night came back to her and she began to hyperventilate, glancing around the room frantically. She calmed down a bit seeing she was back in her own room alone.

She tried not to think of what happened at dinner. But it was impossible not to. The sight of blood on the stone floor and walls followed her eyes wherever she looked. The lord hadn’t outright killed her or her father. She tried to think even less of the marriage proposal that had been sprung on her. She had no doubt that it was a sham. They had intended to take the castle after all. She would’ve been glad to be rid of it, they could have it free of charge. No need for murder, just have it. But if they were here and in such a force it was likely the crown knew about the trip.

Lucinda said a small curse to the witch in the tall tower. Nothing crazy, just that she would fall down the stairs… and off the side plunging to the ground. ‘Wait and see. Easy enough.’ What a joke of advice that had been. That’s how she wished her fall to be, easy enough. She stood gingerly before walking over to the window. Outside the stars twinkled so brightly they seemed to mock her. A night like this shouldn’t be beautiful, it should be dark and wretched. She stood there, wishing she could climb atop her horse and leave this horrible castle.

Her door squeaked open and she turned to see who would enter.

“Lady Whent.” The Blackwood lord said, dipping his head towards her.

“Abomination.” She snarled back. They were past the point of pleasantries in her eyes, if they’d ever been there to start with.

For the first time she saw the lord smile, a true grin broke out on his face at her words. He stepped closer to her, crowding her in by the window. He paused when he spotted the crown on her desk and picked it up. He twirled it in his hands, not making a sound when the thorns cut into his hands. Then he stepped even closer, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him.

“My queen.” He whispered, placing the crown delicately back on her head.

She looked up at him eyes wide, heart pounding. He offered her his arm to take and having no other choice she did. And together they began to descend the staircase towards the ground floor. The torches were glowing with the gleam of scarlet as they walked.

[h-s-moonshadow]

Sigils and Willows: Part 8

Nomira could not express how happy she was to have her clothes. They had not given her her bag, nor her nightgown books or candies. They had given her her clothes. She could have wept as she felt the familiar fabric hug her skin. Wedding dresses were not meant to be slept in. Indeed hers was meant to be taken off as fast as possible.

There was a pit in her stomach as she sat in her room, waiting to move down to the breakfast area. A worry. Her parents would send people after her right? They would try to rescue her from this place. From Untine.

From a place who’s king claimed that he did not know why she was brought here. Could that really be the case? If so, why was she here. Who had brought her here and for what purpose. She stood from the bed, thin but not uncomfortable simply not lavish, and started to pace around the small room.

If this was not a politically motivated strike why had it happened? The Princess seemed to be less of a scholar here, more of a warrior. Perhaps Princess Orsa was as Nomira considered Halnoa, a scholar of the blade and body.

Granted Nomira’s own “scholarship” was less that and more just her notating her favorite types of sigils, favorite theorycrafting about sigils. Even the possibilities of new sigils. It did not matter to her if her ideas were possible or not. Even here in the once home of the dragons she could not access the power she had always dreamed of.

She stopped pacing as she saw herself in the mirror. Tan skin, teal hair, silver eyes. She looked tired. Haunted. Sad. What could she do here? What if the king and princess were lying? Could she do anything about it?

The answer was obvious. No, she could not. Politically, she was as useless as a dull blade here.

Dull blades could still rip fabric, you just needed to apply more pressure. She looked away from herself in the mirror. The image of the tired sad girl staring back at her draining her confidence. She was not made for this type of thing. For political intruge. She was barely made for contracts and treaties. One look at the contract she had made with the Silver Forest and you would be able to see that she could not be trusted to do anything political. Why they agreed still baffled her.

She almost did not notice the knock at her door. Her mind was so in thought in the dull room around her that she barely gave it any thought, simply thinking it another product of her mental state. 

When it came again more insistant she finally moved to the door, and put on a smile. It was the prim proper smile of a princess. The servant who greeted her smiled back.

“Can I help you?” Nomira asked gently.

“You’ve been summoned to breakfast.” He replied with a small bow. “I am to lead you there Princess Nomira. 

Nomira nodded, wonderful she had a chaperone, and gestured for him to lead the way.

The grand hall was beyond Nomira’s wildest imaginings. The king used this for breakfast? Carved into what felt like the very heart of the mountain, with doors that seemed to lead into every other part of the castle and two large entrance doors made of stone, fifty feet high that lay open to a long staircase that descended to the city of New Untine, the grand hall was a sight to behold.

The walls were smooth as if sanded to the finest of grits. Colors that were a true part of the stone swirled and mixed in the stone. Reds, whites, yellows, greens, and browns swirled, dotted, and captured a natural beauty that also eemed truely ethereal.

The area itself could hold thousands of people. Perhaps tens of thousands if they were shoulder to shoulder. Or maybe just ten thousand. It was hard to say. The room was very large.

Nomira had not noticed that she had just been standing and gawking. It seemed strange. That now, in this place she would loose her composure.

She was in the day dress, a pale blue garment that dropped down to her ankles and had short sleeves and a modest neckline. Not to high not to low. The skirt flowed around her, yet she felt nearly informal as she walked into the dining area.

It was not that everyone in the room was dressed more formally than her, it was that everyone in the room was dressed differently than her. The noble ladies come to dine in the castle wore elegant tops that exposed their midriffs. Often the edges covered in sparkling gemstones or scales of metal.

The women also wore skirts that cut of at the knees, made of fine leather died to match. Were they died to match their eyes? Yes. Dyed brown, green, blue, or red in order to match eye color. It was a beautiful fashion.

The men in turn wore vests. No shirts adorned them, simply open vests with the same stylings of gemstones or metal scales. Shining in the light of the day. Wearing skirts the same color as their own eyes.

There were two people in the noble class who were not dressed in this style. Nomira watched the king and Princess of Untine as they sat at the high table. Both dressed in fine suits of a fashion that she herself did not know. They were elegant. Powerful. Two figures that loomed over the hall, though everyone inside of it was at least six feet tall apart from Nomira. She was the odd one out here.

She glanced around, she had been invited to dine here. To engage in breakfast with the court. There were empty seats at the high table, but perhaps. No, she had been invited by the king himself.

As she stepped towards the high table the king stood, gesturing to a seat, and nodding. He then sat down, and continued to eat his breakfast.

With a nod, Nomira walked to the seat and took it primly. She noted the looks of the other nobles. Curious, yet not indignant or enraged that she got this seat of honor near to the king. After Nomira had seated herself she spoke.

“Thank you your majesty, for this seat,” Her voice was cool, calm. She took a breath to calm her nerves. She nodded as the servants brought her a plate full of food. Toast, butter, eggs, bacon, and some varying greens. She blinked looking at it.

Her stomach rumbled. She was so hungry, more hungry than she was sure she had the right to be. That did not stop her from digging into the food. Prim and proper as always. She ate quickly and with a hunger that while not as potent, reminded her of worse days. She had gotten soft. That was obvious to her.

Her eyes trailed the room, and noticed that many other eyes were on her. The strange princess from a foreign land who happened to appear in this place. She cared not for the nobles eyes, but then…

The chair next to her moved. Nomira jumped turning to see the beautiful princess of Untine. Orsa. Hearts that woman was so tall. She blinked as the Princess sat beside her. Nomira paused fork halfway to her mouth as she just, took a moment. Stunned into silence by the strangeness of what was happening.

“Princess?” She inquired, or well tried to. That was the only word that came out of her mouth before her brain flooded her tongue with so many questions that she could not ask a single one. At least the many questions was part of the reason she was tongue tied.

The other reason was Princess Orsa herself. Tall, with light skin and dark brown hair. She was beautiful in a fearsome way. As she took a seat next to Nomira, Nomira could not help but gaze over physique of the woman. Muscles that shown even in that suit. A grace that could only be achieved by a true warrior, powerful yet gentle. And those ruby red eyes, not as stern as Orsa’s fathers but certainly beautiful in their own right.

It was not like when Orsa was running. Yes certainly Nomira had seen more of Orsa while she was running but somehow that was less than she saw now. Of the political side of the princess. Something she had, evendentlly mistakenly, wondered if Orsa even possessed.

Nomira shook herself slightly. Now was certainly not the the time to get distracted. She paused as she felt the ring on her right hand ring finger. Closing her eyes she closed her fist. Feeling that pressure. She had a duty, she would make sure to achieve that duty.

“Princess Nomira?” Orsa’s voice, a deep feminine tenor brought her out of her own mind. Nomira blushed deeply.

“Apologies Princess,” She said incining her head in a gentle sign of respect. She needed to focus. To play whatever political game would allow here to get out of here, to get home. “I got distracted and missed if you said anything.”

Orsa laughed, a beautiful series of tones straight from her chest. The sound of someone who enjoyed laughing and did so a lot. Nomira smiled back gently.

“I rarely say important things Princess Nomira.” Orsa responded waving a hand, a small smile touching her lips. “More often than not I only say important things at parties.”

“Oh?” Nomira intoned, taking another bite of her food. She was almost done with the plate. This breakfast had been amazing. Yet something stuck out to her. After the cold conversation they had had on the walls of the palace, Orsa was being rather friendly. 

“Yes, most often its when I’m tired and the dancing is done. I make a statement that my father simply must refute the following day.” She waved a hand. “There was a time where I made a proclamation that every child in the city needed a flower crown. Still don’t think that one needed refuted.”

Nomira paused, regarding Orsa. “Every child needed… flower crowns? You have the power to make procloations like that?”

Orsa paused. “Yes,” She paused. “Father and I share duties in the regards. He holds court today instead of myself. Starting soon.” She paused. “How does Galdraz do it?”

Nomira blinked, and for a moment was stunned. Orsa was allowed to make policy desisions? Perhaps it was underneath the kings supervision. Yet holding court. Dealing with the woes of the people. That was something usually only reserved for the ruler of a kingdom.

“I worked as a diplomat and ambassador, Princess.” Nomira replied after a moment. “I was not necessarily in charge of anything. I’ve never made any policy desisions. Or helped in court. Though I have attended many sessions.”

And offered advice. Advice that was never heeded until she worked so hard. She fought so hard. Until her father finally gave her the responseability to create a union with the Silver Forest. And she did. 

She almost missed Orsa’s next reply, but thankfully snapped out of her own thoughts as the Princess started to speak.

“You were not allowed…” She frowned. “Were you going to rule after your parents death or abdication?”

Nomira nodded. “Yes, it would either be me or my brother. Most likely myself,” She paused. “Depended on who was married, on who had heirs.” Nomira looked at Orsa. “Why do you ask?”

“It simply seems odd that a queen or king would be expected to rule when they themselves have not made policy desisions.” Orsa shrugged. “If it works for Galdraz then I see no reason for it to not continue, I simply find the idea odd.”

Nomira nodded. “I’ve used that argument, believe me,” She tried to keep the tired effect out of her voice. The one that came in whenever a subject like this was discussed, one she had argued on for so many years. “It has not worked like I wanted it to. Granted, it did get me a wedding eventually. Sadly…”

Nomira sighed looking at Orsa. She knew she looked pathetic here. With everyone so tall, so mighty. The Untinians were who killed the dragons, and each and every one of them looked like they could do so without issue. It was an intimidating sight. She paused and finished off the final few bites of her plate.

“Sadly?” Orsa prompted gently.

Nomira shook her head. “With luck I can convince your father to help me get back, then the wedding will go through.” She paused. “Does anyone really know why I’m here?” She asked gently. “Do you know why I would be here?”

At that Orsa seemed to shrink a little bit. Ruby eyes glancing out at the room. “No. I don’t think any of us know why you are here.”

An interesting choice of emphasis for words. Nomira noted that but for the moment dismissed the ida that it would mean anything. After all, she had a king to speak to. She stood, and walked around the table, so she could stand opposite him. She would look this man in the eyes.

[heavenlyakin]

Part 9: You're Intertwining Your Soul With Somebody Else

Summary: Your life is forever changed when your most trusted advisor arrives home with an engagement treaty. As Queen of your Kingdom, you knew there would be sacrifices but little did you know how much the cost of these sacrifices would be. What do you do when your mind wants one thing but your heart longs for another?

Characters: Reader (some descriptions apply), Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo, Bella and Ella (oc chambermaids), Sebastian (oc butler), Haku (oc child of Gojo and Reader).

Warnings: mentions of childbirth, struggles connecting with the baby, and feelings of anxiety, guilt, and grief.

Length: 2k

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The sleep you get that night is unlike any you’ve ever experienced. You’re sure it's from the exhaustion from having Haku. You don’t even dream, something that always unsettles you. Suguru is still sleeping by your side when you awake, lying on his side, his arm draped around your abdomen. He looks so peaceful while he sleeps. You’ve never seen him sleep, you realize. 

“Suguru,” you wake him gently, his eyes opening and cheeks grinning as he sees you. 

“My love,” he smiles, and you feel your face warm. He did hear you last night. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Bella and Ella will be here any moment to assist me.” You sigh, sitting up and feeling uncomfortable as you do. 

“It would be unfortunate to be caught here,” he sighs, shoving the covers off of him. He stretches briefly, then walks around to your side of the bed. “Shall I return tonight?” 

You nod. 

He smiles then leaves, leaving your lips burning for his. 

As the door shuts to the old passageways, Bella and Ella come through the dressing room, holding a lovely baby blue gown. 

“King Gojo had this fabric picked out just in case you had a boy. We had a pink one ready too, but we can always save that.” Ella chimes in, holding the gown up for you to see. It is gorgeous, matching the King’s eyes. It has white pearls and silver lace around the bodice and down the skirt. 

“I suppose I don’t get to rest today.” You sigh, tossing the covers off you. “At least I do not see a corset,” you grin, those have been gone for months now. 

“I believe it would be considered cruel to put you in a corset after birthing so soon.” Bella helps you out of your nightgown. “Do you need the nurses before we dress you? Do you have any pain?” 

You shrug. “I’ll be fine.” 

Today you must introduce your child to court with your husband. It is tradition here. You assume you will have to make the three-day journey to Satoru’s court soon. It has been postponed many times, neither his council nor yours wanting you to travel in a delicate condition. However, the child is alive and healthy, and no longer in you. You can travel. 

The twins dress you, styling your hair and applying powders and creams to your face to liven your tired look. By the end of the hour, you realize this must be what your mother felt like after having you. Exhausted and dolled up for the pleasure of everyone else. An intense pang of longing hits you in the chest, but you will it away. 

Ella suddenly hugs you from around the chair. “I’m just so happy for you and King Gojo. I hope I can find happiness in the same way you have.” 

The pity you feel is immense. 

“Thank you,” you smile at her through the mirror. “Thank you both for always being so attentive to me. Now, go get ready to meet my son.” 

They hurry off, needing to get ready themselves as you stated. It gives you time to pace around the room a few times to get your legs warmed up for what will be a long event of standing and holding your child. 

A knock at your door startles you. When it opens, you see your husband, wearing attire similarly colored to yours. His overcoat is the same baby blue fabric as your dress, the rest of his outfit white and silver. He has his regalia on, and you realize you need to go select a tiara for the day. 

“Good morning,” he smiles, waltzing over to you and taking your hands. 

When he kisses you, you feel your stomach turn. 

As if you’re doing something wrong. 

“Thank you for the dress. It is very beautiful.” You release his hands and he grins, looking down at you in it. 

“You’ve given me everything I’ve always wanted. This is the least I could do.” He caresses your cheek and you smile. “Where is your crown?” 

“I forgot to tell Bella to get me one. We can select one now if you’d like to help.” You suggest and he nods. 

You lead him to the dressing room, opening the wardrobe where your tiaras are stored. He looks at them all carefully, mostly taking note of the silver ones that will best match your jewelry and dress. He picks up one with tear-drop diamonds that was your mother's. 

“How about this one?” He asks, holding it in front of you. 

You feel your heart flutter. “It was my mother’s. I would love to wear this one today.” You take it from him, walking over to the mirror to put it on carefully. “We better go to the throne room now.” 

He holds his arm out, and you place your hand on him. He guides you out of your room. The castle is alive with noise, everyone running around you and your guards. However, you have not seen your nurses or child. 

“Where is Haku?” You ask Satoru.

“The nurses took him to the throne room already with the guards. I didn’t want everyone flocking to us and him at once.” He tells you and you nod.

The guards part way for you and Satoru to go into the throne room before anyone else. The entire court is outside the doors, watching you closely and chattering. You hear words like “boy,” “girl”, “bet,” and “heir,” as the doors close. 

“It seems there’s a bet going on if we’ve had a boy or girl.” You laugh, as Satoru looks at you. 

“I think they all are just bored,” he shrugs. 

A bassinet is placed beside your throne, white and unrevealing of the gender of your child. You approach it slowly, finding your baby boy asleep solemnly. He’s dressed in simple white clothing, matching his hair. He makes quiet noises as if he’s dreaming. You stroke his white hair, feeling the warmth of him in your palm. He smiles as you touch him, recognizing your touch, you think. You smile, feeling the first connection with him since he left your body. 

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Satoru’s arm wraps around your waist. 

You just smile at Satoru, unsure what to say. He is a baby, not much to note. He is cute if that’s what he’s pointing out. You love the child, you’re sure of it, and know if anything were to happen to him you’d be distraught. However, you’re not sure why Satoru is fawning over him the way he is. 

“Haku —--- Gojo,” Satoru announces his name with both of your last names, picking up the child and cradling him in his arms. “You will be a great King.” 

You laugh, “Let’s get him through infancy before we worry about that.” He places the babe in your arms, and you smile down at the child, feeling warmth flourish in your chest. 

“Guards, open the doors. Let the court come look upon our child.” Satoru commands them and they do. 

Courtiers rush in, stopping just in front of the guards, making a makeshift aisle amongst themselves in the middle of the room. Everyone is giddy with excitement, some bouncing from side to side trying to peak up at the baby in your arms. 

“Thank you for gathering here this morning.” You decide it’s time to start. “The King and I are immensely proud to announce the birth of our son, Haku —--- Gojo.” You look down at him, seeing he’s still asleep despite your loud voice. “If you would like to step forward and greet the child, please do so orderly.” 

“Also, we would appreciate it if no one touches the child. He is newly born and we want to avoid any illnesses. If you believe yourself sick, please do not step forward. There will be other times when you may meet Haku,” Satoru announces and you nod. 

You had not thought of that. It’s smart, considering both you and him have lost your parents to sickness so young. 

The line forms, and you spend most of the morning standing there, only taking breaks when Haku becomes unruly and needs fed and changed. It gives you and Satoru a chance to eat and talk to each other away from the court, while they anxiously wait to meet Haku. 

“I’m becoming quite tired,” you admit to Satoru during the second feeding. It’s nearly noon now, and you’ve been talking and showing your son for nearly three hours. “The rest of the court can meet him at the ball tonight.” 

“Do you wish to retire to your rooms?” Sebastian asks, taking the empty plate of food from you. 

“I do,” you tell him. “Satoru, will you announce the ball?” 

“Of course,” he smiles, squeezing your hand softly. “I’ll come check on you after the courtiers are satisfied with my presence.” 

“Check in with Camilla and Satoru, as well. We need updates on the harvest this year. I’m sure you know what needs to be taken care of when they give you the update.” 

“I do,” he smiles. “Please get some rest.” 

–

Bella and Ella are waiting for you in your rooms, helping you undress and get into your robes. You pass out the moment you hit the bed, ready for another few hours of uninterrupted rest. When you awake, the sun has set and Ella and Bella are playing cards in the corner of your room. 

“You’re up!” Bella says with surprise. 

“How did you rest?” Ella asks. 

“How long have you two been in my rooms?” You ask, propping yourself up on the pillows.

“The nurses asked us to watch over you, just in case you started to bleed again or needed someone quickly. They are with precious Haku now, just across the hall in the nursery.” Bella tells you, laying down a card, making Ella frown. 

“I appreciate your watchfulness, but I don’t think you’d noticed me bleeding out from all the way over there.” You sigh and laugh. 

“Oh, I’ve been checking every half hour,” Ella laughs. “Don’t worry, we won’t let you die on our watch.” 

“Has the King come by?” You ask. 

“He has, three times. Once an hour.” Bella tells you. “Actually, he should-” 

A knock at the door interrupts her. 

“-----,” your name from Satoru’s voice echoes in the room before he enters. 

“I’m awake finally,” you announce and he comes to sit on the bed with you. 

“Ladies, can we have some privacy?” He asks and they nod, running off out of the rooms. 

“Privacy?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I hope you know there is nothing you’re getting from me after yesterday. Nothing is going in or out of me for several months if I can help it.” 

He laughs, laying down on your pillows. “I just wanted to close my eyes for a moment. I’ve been tending to all the duties you’re excused from while you heal.” 

Satoru does close his blue eyes, looking peaceful as he lays in your bed. You let him lie there for several minutes, until you worry he’s falling asleep. You shake his shoulder. 

“We have to get ready for the ball.” You tell him. 

“I need to talk to you about something first.” He tells you. “I got distracted by your bed. I swear it’s more comfortable than mine.” 

“I swear it’s the same,” you laugh. 

“We need to make a show at my court,” he tells you and you nod, expecting this. “I want to leave after Haku is a month old and strong.” 

“Have you talked to the council?” 

“I have,” he confirms. “Everyone but Suguru agrees with us leaving in a month.” 

You sigh. “You two love to fight in council meetings.” 

“Talk to him, perhaps he will listen to you. He usually does.” Satoru narrows his eyes at you then looks away. 

“I will. Now, let us get ready for our child’s first ball.” 

[redbootsindoriath]

#but the actually fun reason is i've finally gotten to working on the costume i've been trying to put together for like two years now#the great part is i get a cool outfit out of it#the time consuming part is that i'm making myself sew EVERYTHING by hand including the seams for the sake of authenticity I would LOVE to hear about this if you'd want to talk about it?? I love sewing by hand (even if it takes forever)! Would you be willing to share pictures?

Oh wow, thanks for asking about this!  I can never be sure how many of my followers are reading the tags, so it’s cool to know that you are.  And I’ve been keeping this costume a secret for a while, so I’m excited to ramble a bit about it.

Okay so.  A couple of years ago I decided I wanted to try making a costume based off something I’d drawn, and I also wanted a Silmarillion costume, so I’m doing both at the same time and making the gold-hemmed green tunic that I’ve drawn Beleg in a few times.  It’s about half done at the moment, but I finally got the sleeves to sit right (only took me four days, RIP; as I said before, I’m no tailor) so I’m feeling confident enough to post this progress picture.  Pardon the ugly black background; I decided to erase the real background because it was kind of cluttered.  And you’re going to have to take me at my word that the fabric is green.  It turns kind of brown in warm toned lights and kind of grey in cool toned lights, and I took the picture in a room where the light was yellowish so that’s why it doesn’t exactly look green.

Eventually there will be a gold border around the sleeves and lower hem (probably embroidered but I’m saving that decision for the very end). The outer waist belt sits approximately where those three safety pins are, and there will be a total of five buttons above that line.

Ah, but then!  Once the tunic is done, I’ll only be about halfway finished with the whole outfit.  Sure I’ll have the big pieces (the tunic and trousers), but many of the little details that actually bring the whole look together (belts, pouches, bracers, gaiters/puttees/winnigas, etc.) have yet to be found/crafted.  The outer belt I’ll probably not be making myself since I have a stamped leather belt with moose and forest imagery on it and I think that’s dope as heck, and I have a buckled bracer that I was given last year which matches that belt, but everything else I’m pretty sure I can make myself.  We’ll see. I’m hoping to have the entire outfit completed by the end of the summer, but because I’ve been procrastinating for ages I’m starting to run out of time if I’m going to make that deadline.  As a wise man hobbit once said:

...but at least I’m working on it.  The thing I’m really dreading making is the bow and arrows because no matter how many tutorials you read and watch, you don’t have the skill to do it well until you’ve tried it yourself and messed up a few times, and also those are a bit important to the character so it’s kind of crucial that I do well on them.

Anyhow, this post has gotten pretty long now, so I’m going to leave the rest of my rambling in the tags.  Thank you again for asking about this!

[honey-lemonz]

From Wattpad..

Xmale Reader

3rd Pov

Warning includes sexual content

Includes: dumbification, master kink if you see it rough sex, degradation, barley a praise kink, female form Muzan, squirt, getting eaten out over stimulation

Muzan will still go by He/him

Requested by:maskstudioart

Thank you for the request!

Muzan didn't ever think he would dub down this far. He would every single day, change his form to his more feminine body and go flirt with a demon archer.

The demon knew it was Muzan the progenitor and knew if he did something wrong he would die but...

Muzan had an obsession.

He overly loved the feeling of climax in a female form, it was so different than a males.

You could say he was a virgin with this meaning he was inexperienced but God's did he fucking love to finger himself.

He just wished a certain archer would make him feel the climax himself.  Muzan couldn't lie, he was a strong demon, very useful as well, very strong too. Good enough to be a spot for the twelve kizuki. Not a lower moon of course most likely and upper rank.

But for some odd reason he didn't want him as a servant.

He wanted him as a lover. And he knew love needed to be two sided otherwise it wouldn't work.

So how do you make a lust full demon king make another demon who is a devoted archer and is devoted to his sport and possibly not interested in him or fears him?

Gifts and buy lots of them, bribing.

Muzan wore his most fancy kimono and tied his hair into his bun and made Daki put the pins in. He wore a signature floral style which is famous muromachi period which it the century the archer if from.

He put on a red lip and was out the infinity fortress and walked to the archery park filled with cherry blossoms and bamboo gates. No human knew of the hidden places.

Muzan glared at the other demons to open the gate and strolled on in, he felt like a school girl who had a crush on her upper class men. Except he is older and stronger.

The archer was practicing with their bow and was in total focus. He could sense Muzan and smiled vividly that his lord could see him.

"Hello, Muzan-sama. How are you tonight under this moon." His voice made the king's pussy clench on nothing. He bit his lip and walked closer. A pale and touched the grey-ish skin of the archer. Veins throbbing on muscle.

Muzan traced them and hummed, his voice not menacing but suggestive.

"I am well, my archer..My search for the blue spider lilly is going unsuccessful but I grant time will tell. Now, how is my dear, archer. Have any whores here?"

Muzan is a jealous and petty thing. He knew the archer can have whores here and there. Daki has spoken about it. She even said his physical domination is almost more tempting and frightful than Kokushibou. (sexy ass man koku)

The archer inhaled before letting the string of the bow go. "What of it my lord?" Normally Muzan would be angered of the question but he, he made it sound like a challenge.

"Well, I came here to see my beloved and most favorite archer...I didn't come to see if he is fucking another whore. I thought warriors like you were supposed to be poised."

The archer's fist clenched, snapping the bow in half. Muzan let out almost a moan at the sight of his strength.

"Yes my lord. I am poised, who ever told you of these lies must want to anger you. I haven't had a woman nor man at my side since the Sengoku."(making the archer older than Koku)

Muzan gazed at his split eyes, cat like with the gold color shining through. He wasn't lying, so either Daki was or whoever told Daki lied. Either way Muzan will deal with it later.

"So, my archer if to say you did have a whore what would she be? What would she looked like? Would she be rich? Poor?"

Muzan stepped behind him and pressed his womanly breast against his stern and muscular back. A thing kimono separated the skin to skin contact. The archer prepared his stance again. He inhaled and held the strong and tight bow. He pulled his back to his cheek.

"She, or he would have to learn how to speak of what they want." Muzan hummed and wrapped his hands around his waist from behind. Moving his hands up and down slowly, taunting him. His nails circling around his peck and the faint lines of his abdomen.

"What about her mouth? Should she speak like a whore or more of a queen? Or do you want to shut her up yourself..."

Muzan's hand dipped down to the hakama pants, the white fabric holding and slowly untying them. "Or do you want her to do all the work, my archer.."

His other hand curled around the arm that was holding the arrow. Holding onto his bicep. Leaning up to whisper into his ear.

"Tell me my archer..what kind of whore do you want me to be for you?"

(M/n) sighed and rested his arms and set the bow down. He sighed and let his head fall down to look at the ground. The sweat off his body made it shine slightly underneath the moon light. he looked so delicious, it made Muzan restless.

He wished he could see him during the sun or wake up beside him and just let him fuck the shit out of him or eat him out.

"Muzan-sama." The king in question hummed and smiled devilishly at his favored archer. "Yes (M/n)?" he answer as his long blue nail was tracing the outline of his cock.

"One thing."

He hummed again, he could read his mind and knew what he was going to say and it made him drip with slick.

"Whores that ask to many questions are just begging to be fucked." He dropped the bow and turned around the see Muzan. He smiled and blushed.

Muzan lifted his arms making him carry him. He didn't want to be in control he just wanted him to fuck him deep into the ground. His pussy was aching it.

Muzan was laying in his shoulder. If any demon saw him, they'd be killed.

They walked into the large estate, the house had been a gift from Muzan. He was so happy he decided to kill of the family here and give it to him.

He dropped Muzan on the engawa and stripped himself of his thin kimono but not the hakama pants. His chest that housed that baritone voice, a voice he wanted to her moan his name and name alone made the demon lord almost finger himself then.

"But since my king is here I believe it is best to pleasure him first than myself." He got onto his knees and stomach and rested on the wooden flooring. The white curtains only showed their shadows but neither cared.

He pushed the layers of cloth out of the way only to see no underwear or anything. A bare pink pussy dripping with cum.

"My lords pussy is dripping..did he plan for this? To be eaten out like a slut? How disgusting you pig." He breath fanned his clit. The anticipation was harsh but the impact was so enjoyus.

"Yes, I am your little slut, now please my archer eat me out like one." Muzan's head tilted back and spread his legs wider, his clit twitch waiting for the intense sensitivity to send it over and beyond.

"Yes, my master." His cool tongue circled his clit and spread his labia. Muzan moaned loudly and gripped the archers head. His attention to certain spots was so endearing and so careful.

"More, please! More my archer!"

His tongue dipped into his tight entrance and pushed deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger entrap his clit. His thumb circles it roughly. Muzan felt the blood from his teeth digging into his lips dip down onto the floral patterned kimono.

"Fu-fuck. More! Please my archer give me more!" He was arching his back and pushing his head deeper. (M/n) removed his tongue, Muzan missing the contact was about to yell at him to continue but his three fingers replaced the rage with more pleasure.

He moved his hand in and out at inhuman speed. He reached up to lick away the blood from his lords lips and bite them. His thumb moved harsher and harder. Wet and sloppy sounds filled the air.

All coming from the demon lord.

His hands gripped the arches forearm and dug into it, drawing blood with his nails. He was whining and moaning. The pressure built more and more. More lewd and rude comments were whispered into his ear.

"Who knew the demon king wanted to get fucked like a whore..so fucking wet for an archer. Was it your plan to have a good fuck? To act like a such a slut and pig. Your dripping all on my hand."

With the words Muzan's pussy gushed. He had never felt so disgusting but it felt so good to feel like a sloppy whore.

He panted and clenched on his hand.  But then Muzan felt another finger being added. (fisting) The pressure came back and made the demon lord fall back out of over stimulation. Begging and begging for more. His own hand playing with his clit and slapping it too.

His kimono was drenched by the second orgasm, he squirted father this time and more. The engawa was soaking with his delicious fluids. The blood on his lips were lapped away. (M/n) pulled his hand away and liked his digits clean of the others juices.

"So tasty my lord, you did such a good just squirting like a whore."He stood up and lifted his fucked out demon king to farther into the estate.

He rested Muzan on the futon. He stripped himself and then Muzan. His breast were round and plump, his nipples hard.

Kissing and biting them, also playing with his clit made him scream at over stimulation again.

"Pl-please, my archer..fuck me..fuck me until I cannot think.." He begged, his lipstick smudge covering his cheek, hair a mess and his bun not as perfect. The decorations were falling out. This obsession he had was growing and growing because of his dear archer.

"Yes my whore lord."

He untied the sash of the hakama and revealed his thick and long cock. Muzan felt like he was going to fucking squirt again.He pulled (M/n) down to kiss him and to force him and let their body's run against each other. His cock rubbing against his clit made him arch his back.

"Please, my archer just fuck me!"

The archer pushed no slammed himself into Muzan. Letting the demon lord get a taste of what he wanted.

But he pulled out and flipped the demon on his hands and knees. He pushed back in and growled as he clenched tightly around him. His chest pushing into Muzan's. Fucking like a wild animal.

His cock pushed pass his G-spot and made the demon lord cry out about how he is going to cum again. His mind as he fucked him wandered off. Just blank and white all he felt was his pussy gushing and squirting. His arousal dripping down his legs and (M/n)'s cock and balls.

He was drooling and crying, not even having proper speech. When the archer pulled out and showered his back and ass with cum, growling and grunting.

Muzan felt his whole body just become sore. He was the strongest demon but got fucked like the weakest.

"T-this i...is..w-whhy yo-your myy favorite..m-my archer..."

The archer chuckled and wiped the cum off Muzan and the liquids off himself. He waled away to grab a kimono for the demon king.

"You'll ma-make a great King.."

The demon king relished in the feeling of being pampered. He liked how much attention he was getting and how much care was put into it. He smiled as he was place into the warm pool of water and treated perfectly.

By the time the sun rose, the archer and him retired to their sleeping quarters and sleep in the large western style bed. Muzan cuddled close to (M/n). While he was a sleep, which proved he was a hard worker. Demons don't sleep unless anything they do is put with 100%.

Muzan pushed him nail into his temple and pumped his blood into him. The archer growled in pain but kept his eyes closed. Muzan's curse was still in affect but it would not be death just a sting.

"Yes, you would make a great King, my favorite archer.."

He fell a sleep too. His new demon king was going to be perfect, he knew it. 

That is why he was the favorite, he made his obsession grow day by day.

He was truly satisfied.

[minxystories]

Nightly Tea

This one is abit longer than usual, so have fun reading!

@panyum

Unlike usual, it was quiet in the building. The lights were out and the night spread its darkness through the hallways like wings. The only noise were careful steps. She didn’t want to wake anyone up, they all deserved a peaceful night of sleep. However, sleep couldn’t come for her once more. She was tired, but lying in her bed for hours on end didn’t help. So at last, Sammy could only quietly leave her room and wander around the building.

A shiver ran down her spine and she pressed the stuffed bunny closer to her chest. As tips of her fingers turned a sickly blue, her curse showed its ugly head again. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have gone on all of those gathering missions, but they needed the materials, so she had barely any choice. Her hands buried themselves in the soft fabric of the plush animal as her steps hastily echoed through the halls.

Maybe she could make something to drink, a tea or maybe some hot milk. No coffee, that would only make her situation worse. While the warmth of the drink couldn’t outlast her curse, the relaxing taste and momentarily heat makes the trip worth it. Her journey quickly lead her to the kitchen. A cabinet was opened, a teabag stolen and the kettle turned on. The bunny quietly sat on the counter, watching its owner at work.

Sammy was just about to reach for a mug when something brushed against her back and fell to the floor. The teabag was gone in a flash, being burned by a small burst of flames. The magic sparked between her fingers as she turned around. But just before she could summon her staff, she noticed the big heap of fur. It was dirty with mud, but you could still recognize its blue color.

A sight escaped her lips as she identified the wolf. A grumble came from the big animal as Sammy sat close to him on the ground and started to run her fingers through his usually fluffy coat.

“Pray tell Lobo, what did you do this time?”

Another grumble and a soft laugh from Sammy. With a burst of courage, she laid her hands on his back and just messes with the dirty fur. Quickly, the avenger turned his snout to her and growled playfully, but Sammy was already standing again, preparing her tea once more.

“You know you don’t have to scare me like that. I’m glad I only burned the teabag and nothing majorly important.”

This time she got no answer. Instead Lobo just stared at her critically. While he obviously didn’t like how she messed with his fur, he also didn’t do anything expect the growl, so she didn’t seem to have overstepped the boundary. After putting the teabag and water in the mug, she turned back to her servant. At the sight of his muddied pelt, she returned his critical stare with one of her own.

“We’ll have to wash you later.”

He gave her an irritated growl and distaste was clear in his eyes. Neither Lobo nor Sammy liked those days when the wolf needed to be washed. It was the one thing both agreed upon, even though their reasoning were wildly different. The girl just rolled her eyes and sat back down again, leaning her back against his side.

“I don’t like it either, but if we don’t wash you, the staff will complain about muddy paw prints again. If it would make things more comfortable for you, then I can ask Paris for help.”

The tail of the big animal moved from side to side in a slow manner, showing both his excitement for the small Archer, as well as his tiredness. A giggle left the blond girl as she watched her friend. She leaned further back into his fur, relaxing and closing her eyes. Talking with the canine made her more tired, so maybe she might be able to sleep now.

However, this hope was quickly destroyed. As she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else. A pathway into a forest stretched before her. The trees were green, giving the forest a lively look. It seemed to be spring. For a second she thought she was dreaming, but that illusion was broken in a matter of seconds. An angry voice called a name. A name she couldn’t understand, the sound being dampened enough to be indistinguishable. But she knew exactly who's name he called.

Panic filled her as her body began to move, running along the path, deeper into the forest. Her legs were shorter than usual, her body smaller, so running away was even harder. It didn’t take long before the voice grew louder and heavy steps followed her. Despite the little distance between her and the man, she still couldn’t understand what he was yelling. But knowing this man from her previous visions, she could guess it is for her own good that he seemed to speak gibberish. The closer he came, the colder the air around her got. Her limbs started to hurt, burning from the cold. The surroundings changed as well, slowly turning into a muddy fall forest. Everything seemed dead and the ground became more slippery than before.

It was hard to run on the mud, her feet slipping with every step. The voice of the man became so loud, it seemed to ring in her head. Thinking became harder, resulting in her not paying enough attention to her surroundings.

Everything came to a stop as the ground disappeared, giving way to water. The river seemed calm, a total opposite to her inner turmoil. For a handful of second, she could see a reflection in the water. Instead of ashen blond strands, the hair of the girl in the reflection was a fiery red. It was hard not to recognize Giselle as the girl. It immediately validated her suspicion.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

It was another vision of Giselle’s live.

A wet feeling on her cheek brought her back to reality. Instead of leaning on Lobo, she was now lying on her back, the avenger standing beside her. The dark kitchen was illuminated by blue flames that danced across the ground, whispering and giggling among themselves. Her cheeks were wet and her back hurt. The avenger seemed to have stood up as the flames appeared and in turn, her back met the floor. Slowly, the girl sat up, her body shacking from what she saw. Adrenalin still flew through her system, allowing her to stand up, albeit a big struggle. Her hands pressed against the counter, trying to find some sort of help to stay on her feet. Lobo watched her and walked closer, a soft whine escaping his throat. It was oh so different from the growl and scowl, it would have made her giggle under different circumstances.

“I’m fine…”

It was an obvious lie. Quickly she reached for the plush animal, pulling it towards her and burying her face in its fur.

“I’m absolutely fine…”

A sob wrecked her body. Her words were muffled by the toy and she pressed her face further into the fabric, hiding from the world. The flames quieted down, stopping their whispers and observing the girl. The cup of tea was long forgotten, slowly losing its warmth. Lobo couldn’t give her any comforting words like the other servants. So instead, he gave her his company and softly pressed his snout against her side, hoping it would give her some sort of comfort.

[mangekyuou]

                                             SOUL ━ﾞ

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           kujo jotaro           fem!reader

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           au           angst           fluff           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           the orphaned vampire prince of the           joestar kingdom, jotaro spends his           days alone in the castle that used           to belong to the family that was taken           away from him in his youth by humans.           but one day he meets a human woman           who will change him forever.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           mentions of death ‘ a bit of ooc jotaro tbh

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           2.5k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           this wasn’t the request word for word           per say but i started writing and i couldn’t           stop. so i really hope you enjoy this one.

A light nightly wind slipped through the dark green leaves of the tall trees of the forest. The wind’s whisper was soft and distant, but it could be heard many miles away through the heightened sense of hearing of one being.

Through the chilly winds was another being that interrupted its flow. Its flight was as silent as the dead, as it inched closer and closer to the castle that sat in the middle of the dark forest. Its bright yellow eyes were all that could be seen.

The lanterns placed at the entrance of the castle had revealed the creature. A gray-brown great horned owl flying up to one of the high balconies, perching itself on the shoulder of a dark-haired man who had leaned against the railing.

The man took a long drag from the oddly-colored pipe in his hand, letting the smoke out through his mouth, partially revealing sharp fangs. He opened his eyes, revealing the irises. His irises were blue-green, blood-red had glossed over them in the moonlight from above.

He hummed lowly, staring at the moon.

Tomorrow was the day.

The night the moon would be its fullest.

The night he would bind his immortal dark soul, to the mortal, pure soul of the woman he had come to love.

If you had told him he would be marrying a mortal woman one day, he'd probably kill you where you stood. But when she washed up on the gates of his castle two years ago, bruised and battered with no place to go, his life changed forever.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” The young maiden’s voice’s reached his ears from across the room. She stood, terrified in the corner of the cold room with a glass shard in her hand dressed in old linen he could not fit anymore, as opposed to the bloodied rags she showed up on his doorstep with.

He gave her the change of clothes to not only protect her but to control his vampiric urges.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew who he was, rather what he was. It had dawned on her the moment she found what she assumed abandoned castle in the middle of the forest.

It was clear as night. She had heard the many tales of what lurked deep in the unexplored forest. Ferocious beasts that were taller than man, demon children of the devil, witches of the elements, and bloodthirsty vampires. The red irises that pierced through the darkness of the night he took her by the throat did not fool anybody.

He was a vampire. But not just any vampire.

Prince Kujo Jotaro, the last prince of the Joestar bloodline.

She had heard the tale over and over again through her childhood of the tragedy of the Joestar bloodline and their kingdom from almost a millennium ago. How the kingdom had fallen apart. How its citizens and the Joestars themselves had met their end. How only one remained. Or at least that is what she believed the story had been.

“Would you have preferred me to?” He answered her question with another question.

It was the first time she heard him speak since she had taken shelter unwillingly in his abode. His voice was monotone, uncaring of anything.

Though the truth was, he was unsure. He had been asking himself the same question since he brought her in, checking up on her the past few days, controlling his bloodlust to tend to her wounds and care for them the best he could.

She was a walking blood bank for the taking. She practically plopped down at his feet. Her intoxicating humanly scent, the blood rushing through her veins, her pounding heart. She was just the perfect catch to sink his fangs into and drain the precious life she clung so dearly to as she struggled in his grasp as he had done other victims.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Though she feared him, she stood her ground. She wasn’t going down without a fight, made apparent by the glass shard she held in her hand toward him. Even if she had no chance, she still wanted to attempt to make it out of here alive.

“What is your name?”

She didn’t say, rather firing out an insult.

Her words had begun to irritate him. With a blink of an eye, he stood in front of her. With no time to react, he removed the glass shard she held pushed her further into the corner, entrapping her with the weight of his body. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

Had this been the end?

Jotaro had leaned down, near the shell of her ear. He whispered, “Do you fear me?” He lowered his head further, as she gulped shallowly preparing for her end. She could feel his lips ghosting over the skin of her neck, breath sending chills down her spine.

“N-n-no!” She stuttered out, lying to both herself and him.

He pulled himself away from her as if nothing happened, leaving her out of breath and confused. With that, he had left her. The door was wide open for her to escape, to which she had done. She didn’t spare him a second glance she ran out of his castle back into the forest.

She had nowhere to call her home, but she couldn’t stick around and be the meal of a vampire.

But alas her escape was cut short. Tripping over a large tree root, right into the clutches of a tall blonde man who had lurked in the shadows with those similar red eyes to Jotaro’s. Just her luck to run from one vampire into the hands of another one.

He had done this on purpose. He set her up!

( y/n ) backed into the tree, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“A young, beautiful maiden all alone in these parts of the forest? It’s dangerous out here. Are you lost, little one?” He grinned.

The pet name sent chills down her spine, but not in the way Jotaro’s breath did. This was viler, more disgusting. She hated this feeling, this gross feeling he had on her.

She took in his face, he was quite breath-taking. He was sculpted by the devil himself, dressed in the finest fabrics.

He inched closer to her, as she scooted back further.

“Don’t fear me, little one. I just would—”

She backed into a figure, one that did not feel like a tree. One that felt like strong legs.

“Dio.”

That voice. He had come back, standing right above her.

Jotaro.

“Oh come on, Jotaro. I’m sure you can share your company. Only for a little bite,” The one named Dio suggested with a wink followed by him licking his lips.

Jotaro had reached down, pulling ( y/n ) up to her feet by the back of the shirt she wore. He ushered her behind him, a protective hand placed high on her waist. His touch startled and confused her. Did he not send her to her own death by this man? Was he really trying to save her? Why?

“Jotaro, protecting a mere human?” Dio laughed hysterically. “You Joestars with your human affairs. You would think you’d hate every last one of them after what happened to your poor family before your young eyes, Jotaro. Humans are not our friends. They lie about us, they harm us, they hate us, they fear us.”

“She does not fear me,” He defended. His voice was still flat, void of emotion, but his hand had seemed too tight on her waist for a brief moment as if he was giving her a reassuring squeeze.

A squeeze that was meant to put her at ease and let go of the worries that clouded her mind. A squeeze that was meant to make her trust his words. A squeeze that was meant to show this was his fight. The sudden squeeze was different from earlier when he towered over her in his castle. She did not feel like a helpless doe, rather protected and guarded by the vampire of tall stature.

But his touch was as gone as fast as it had come. He removed his hand from her waist, returning it to his side. It left her with an emptiness that was unexplainable.

“Run,” He whispered to her.

“W-What? But I—”

His eyes hardened, as he looked over his shoulder to her, “If you don’t have a damn soul you care about in this world, then stay here and die! So be it! But if there is one soul, just one soul you want to see again, then you run and you don’t look back.”

One soul?

Not a single one had come to mind. She was alone, without anyone to care for. When she landed at his doorstep, she had been abandoned, left to die.

Those bruises she wore were nothing done by the forest or any beast known to man. Those bruises were caused by the hands of other humans. By the souls who were supposed to be her family.

So there was not a single mortal soul she cared about in this earth, this harsh realm that spared no one. She barely found the strength to care about her own. But there had been a new soul she wondered about.

The immortal, impure soul of the man that stood in between her and her fate.

An evil that stood in the way of another evil.

“What about you?” The words tumbled out of her mouth. He was a strong man, she was sure he could take care of him. Not that she even cared, at least she believed so. But he was the only soul who had shown her such kindness through his own harsh way. But it was kindness nevertheless.

He hadn’t answered her question with words, leaving her with a telling silence.

He didn’t plan on seeing her again. Not that he even believed he would if she made it out of there in time. Nor did he believe he deserved to see her again. He didn’t plan on making it out of this battle alive.

This was his judgment day and he embraced it with open arms.

“I’m sorry...” She muttered out. She turned on her heel, running away from the scene. Her mind has called her a coward. There wasn’t much she could do now. She was mortal, she couldn’t stop a fight between the supernatural even if she wanted.

Her feet came to a sudden halt as a loud groan, followed by a hard thump among the commotion behind her sounded.

She had done what she told him she wouldn’t do. The action that would change her life forever.

She looked back.

Her ( e/c ) eyes had met a scene she could barely make out from her distance, but it was clear who the current winner had been.

Dio held a battered Jotaro up by his throat. He did not struggle, he did not fight, he had just accepted his loss. Though another competitor had made itself apparent before her unbeknownst to the two other fighters.

The sunlight.

Her feet had moved on their own, right back to them. She had no clear plan, but her goal was clear. To save Jotaro from perishing in the sunlight. Even he didn’t understand what her plan was at first, until she collided with him roughly, shielding his body the best she could from the bright rays of the morning.

“What are you—! You…harlot!”

A horrific screech filled their ears until it faded into nothingness.

“You came back and…saved me. Why?”

“The same reason you didn’t kill me the night you found me.”

He didn’t understand what he had done to earn her care. After the battle, she shielded him from the light, making it back into the darkness of his castle where light could not shine through. The wounds he sustained were life-threatening, making it hard for him to move.

He expected his sins had caught up to him, expecting he had finally reached the end of his days. Jotaro closed his eyes for what he believed would be the last time and drifted into a deep slumber.

Alas, his slumber did not last forever. He arose in a cool sweat, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as he looked around the familiar bedroom he had spent his entire life in.

He lived? He was alive?

He stared down at his arms and exposed chest, his wounds were almost completely healed. How long had it been?

A calmly beating heart filled his ears, sounding from just at his bedside. There she said asleep, ( y/n ). She sat in a chair with her head resting on the side of the featherbed. She had been worn out, skinnier than he remembered, dressed in some more old clothes of his, bandages covered her hands. She looked peaceful as she slept, he thought. An involuntary smile had come to his face.

She was the reason he was alive. She took care of him. She...she didn’t leave him alone. He remembered how he reached a hand out to stroke her cheek. Instead of moving away from him as anyone else had, she relaxed under his touch. “Thank you,” He recalled whispering to her.

“Can’t sleep?” That same melodic voice reached his ears from behind him. He could hear the sound of her calm heart beating in her chest from where he stood on the balcony. It put him at ease.

The owl resting on his shoulder had flown away into the night. The light shuffle of her feet grew louder and louder until they came to a sudden halt.

( y/n ) wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, letting her head rest on his broad back, "Having doubts about tomorrow?"

He relaxed under her gentle touch. She had always been so gentle with him. "Why would I?"

"You always answer my questions with questions, why is it?" She pointed out.

"I suppose it's a habit of mine. Now answer this question," He turned around in her embrace, now face to face with the mortal. Not just many mortal, the woman who changed his view of the cruel world that took his family away from him. She changed his view of humans, she wasn't the monster the others had been. She gave him a new reason to live.

Love.

He continued, "Why are you awake, ( y/n )? It's awfully late."

"I couldn't fall asleep. So I thought a late-night stroll around the castle would help me feel tired, and I found you here," She answered, pushing a loose of his hair behind his ear. "We're not supposed to see each other until the ceremony tomorrow when our souls are finally bound as one."

The corners of his mouth curled into a grin, "When have you ever been one to follow the law set in place?"

"You are right about that. If I did follow the law set in place we wouldn't have met one another. I don't know where I would be without you."

"And you'll never have to think about being without me. For the rest of our days, however long that may be, I'll be yours, heart and soul."

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION …

[yourdeepestfathoms]

song of storms

Texas decided to flash flood, so my school went into its severe weather drill yesterday. we sat in the hallways in darkness while some kid played his guitar and sang for us. it got me inspired, so here’s some hurt/comfort!

—————————

In Romania, it sure did rain.

A storm so powerful it seemed to have some kind of vendetta against Castle Dimitrescu had blown in around the early afternoon, and by the time dinner was almost ready to be served, the brisk rainfall had warped into a mini hurricane. Raindrops fell like silver bullets and thunder cracked repeatedly, lightning tearing through the sky with white fangs, splitting the horizon in two. Water splattered across the windows like sprays of blood, and Alcina went around making sure they were all secure against the howling wind, seeing as the maids were too useless to do so.

While checking the glass and locks in the western wing, a massive boom shook the entire castle, making even Alcina feel small in comparison. Pulling the drapes shut firmly, there was a second crash of thunder, but this time, she heard something inside of it.

A whimper.

Alcina turned. The room closest to her was the library. It had to have come from in there.

Creeping inside, Alcina first checked the windows, making sure there were no leaks, then looked for the culprit of the cry. It wasn’t very hard when the sky roared like a vicious beast and caused its victim to sob from behind a bookshelf. Peeking around the polished wood, she found the sufferer.

It was her eldest daughter, curled into the fetal position, her knees to her chest, hands clamped over her ears, shaking all over. She flinched when a burst of thunder seemed to shake the entire castle, threatening to bring the ceiling down on top of them, and then let out a choked whimper, digging her claws into her scalp in a vain effort to block out the noise.

“Bela?”

Bela’s head snapped up, and Alcina watched as shame crept into her expression.

“M-Mother--” she stammered. “I-- I--”

Alcina walked over and crouched down next to her. She set a hand on Bela’s shoulder, feeling her shudder beneath her touch. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mother,” Bela said, despite her obvious panic attack. “Of course.”

Alcina narrowed her eyes. “Bela, what have I told you about lying to be about your health?”

Bela lowered her head. “I shouldn’t do it…”

“Right. Now, I will ask you again: are you alright?”

Bela shifted, sniffling. “I’m-- I’m just a little freaked out, that’s all. But-- but I’m okay. It isn’t that bad.”

And then, like it was trying to be helpful, thunder crashed, and Bela jolted right into Alcina’s arms with a yelp, practically vibrating with fear. She clung to Alcina’s gown with her claws, her eyes wide and bulging.

“Isn’t that bad, huh?” Alcina said.

“It-- it just startled me!” Bela blustered. She was adamant about saving face, it seemed.

“Uh-huh,” Alcina set a hand on her back, rubbing up and down her spine slowly. “Bela, I thought you said you weren’t scared of storms anymore? Were you lying just to look strong for your younger sisters?” She squinted. “Or did they shame you again? I’ve told those girls that all fears are valid, no matter how irrational--”

“N-no!” Bela cried, clenching fabric between desperate claws. “No! Don’t get mad at them, please! It-- it wasn’t them!”

Alcina looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised.

Bela lowered her head. “I-- I’m not afraid of storms. Rainstorms, I mean. But the thunder…” She cast a dismayed look at the nearby window and jumped when lightning torched the sky. She huddled closer. “It’s just so loud. And dangerous! What if-- what if there’s a tornado?!”

Alcina bit back a laugh. Her eldest child had the wildest imagination.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Romania doesn’t get tornadoes.”

“It has before!” Bela said, steadfast on her opinion. “And FLOODS! Oh, Mother, what if it floods? What if the castle floods?! Where will we live?! What if-- what if--”

Sensing Bela’s growing panic, Alcina cupped her cheeks and made her look at her. “Breathe, darling. Breathe. You’re starting to spiral.”

“But-- but--”

“Breathe. Here, follow me,” she then inhaled deeply. “Come on, my love. Just like me. In…” She demonstrated again.

Bela shakily inhaled.

“And out…” She exemplified.

Bela shakily exhaled.

They repeated this process three more times before Bela was calmer, though she wouldn’t stop glancing out the window. The rain had gotten so bad that the trees outside weren’t even visible through the pelting sheets of rain. The lightning, however, still made itself known, slashing right through the water walls like the talons of a monster.

“It’s so bad out there,” Bela murmured, her eyes becoming distant as she started wrapping herself up in her own fear again.

“Ah, ah,” Alcina redirected her gaze over to her. “Don’t look at that, darling. Look at me.”

Bela swallowed thickly and obeyed. Her claws dug into Alcina’s arms. “Mother,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m-- I’m scared.”

Alcina frowned, though she was proud of Bela for openly admitting such a thing. She pulled her in close.

“It’s alright, my darling,” Alcina murmured. “It’s alright. Nothing is going to get you. It’s just a noise.”

“I-I know, but--”

Thunder cracked, and Bela buried her face against Alcina’s chest. Her shaking worsened.

“I hate it, I hate it,” Bela wept.

Alcina moved her hands over Bela’s ears, holding them firmly, hoping to block out the sound for her precious daughter. How could she forget that Bela didn’t like loud noises? Of course this would be like hell for her.

“Shh, shh,” Alcina rocked Bela back and forth in her lap. A faint rumble rippled through the house and she glared at the window, cursing the storm for causing her baby so much distress. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay…”

She spent five more minutes on the floor before Bela finally pulled her head back. She didn’t look any less terrified, nor had the storm lessened its brutality, but there was a new light in her eyes. Alcina already knew what she was doing.

“Bela, don’t--”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Bela said anyway, dipping her head for a moment. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t even pretend, child,” Alcina scolded. “You’re still as white as a ghost. And these shivers… You’re shaking like a newborn goat!”

Bela shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You said it yourself, didn’t you?”

Alcina wrinkled her nose, then sighed. “Alright then. Shall we both go down to the parlor, then? I should check on your sisters.”

Guilt flitted through Bela’s eyes. “Yes. Of course. We must make sure that they aren’t scared.”

That got a small chuckle out of Alcina. “Sure.”

They both stood up, with Alcina helping Bela on her unsteady legs. While walking down the hallway to get to the main parlor, both mother and daughter couldn’t help but gaze out the windows.

The sky was the color of the ocean- dark, wild, and swallowing everything in its wake. The only thing that could possibly rival its impenetrable wall of thick black-blue were the constant cracks of blazing lightning that split the roiling clouds like a hot knife. The storm would be cut in half at the flash of its searing glory, then sewed itself back together like a monstrous, watery wound. The wind was so fierce that it seemed to be sent by an enraged being to punish the castle for some unruly sin. Water rushed down the pathways that Alcina could just barely make out in the garden like baby rivers, threatening to drag anything and anyone in its way down the dirt with it. Raindrops battered the glass and walls and doors, knocking so viciously like an unwanted guest.

An unwanted guest. That was what this damn storm was. And Alcina was at her wit’s end with this elemental stranger.

Especially when one particular crash of thunder knocked the power right out.

Now, a good portion of Castle Dimitrescu used natural lighting to ward away the darkness, sunlight and torches and whatnot, but there were also light fixtures and lamps, which were cut into complete blackness by the outage.

Shadows swept around the corridor like curtains, chased off only by a few flickering torches. At Alcina’s side, there was a sharp cry of terror that pulled at her heart with talons, and she turned to see Bela pressed against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily, her eyes practically bulging right out of her skull.

“Oh, honey,” Alcina said sadly. She reached out, tenderly cupping her daughter’s cheeks. Bela was aware enough to press into her touch like she usually did, which was good. She was too far gone in her panic just yet. “Shh, shh… It’s okay.”

“Th-the lights--” Bela gasped. Her hands were pressed flat against the wall behind her, claws dug against the plaster. She wouldn’t look at Alcina, instead peering around her figure to the storm outside. “It’s-- it’s--”

“Breathe, Bela,” Alcina instructed, seeing her spiral again. It was worrying just how quickly it could happen, coming out of nowhere and consuming her like a colony of angry fire ants. “Breathe. In and out. Just like I taught you.”

“M-Mother--”

“Shh, shh,” Alcina stroked Bela’s cheeks with her thumbs. She moved closer, trying to block out the view of the windows with her form. “Don’t look at that. Look at me. I’m right here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Bela whimpered and looked up at her. Hot tears slid against Alcina’s fingers and she brushed them away. She smiled when she heard the shallow sound of her daughter’s rhythmic breathing.

“Good girl,” Alcina cooed. “Good, good girl. Just like that.”

Bela closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Alcina’s smile grew a little wider.

“You’re doing so well,” Alcina praised her, knowing it would help her work harder to calm down. Bela was always the easiest to manage out of all of her children, as all it took was a few words of approval for her to do just about anything she wanted. “Such a good job, even when you’re--”

“I’m not--”

“I know, baby,” Alcina said, humoring her. She moved one hand to stroke Bela’s hair. “You’re not scared. Of course you aren’t. I was going to say when you’re in the middle of a blackout.”

Bela opened one eye to stare at her incredulously. Alcina grinned at her. Bela huffed, closed her eye, and then nuzzled into her hand with a faint purr.

They stayed like that for a little longer before Bela finally extracted herself from the wall. The color had yet to return to her face, nor had she stopped shaking, but at least her breathing was back under control.

“Ready?” Alcina asked.

Bela nodded quietly.

With one hand on her daughter’s back, Alcina continued down the hallway with Bela.

Upon entering her favorite parlor, Alcina found her other two daughters already inside. Cassandra was stretched out in front of the fireplace like a lounging cat, her head pillowed by her arms and a look of bliss on her face, while Daniela was bouncing by the window, watching the storm eagerly. The youngest had always been fascinated by the sheer destruction of weather.

“Thirty-four!” Daniela shouted when lightning flashed across the sky.

“That’s great, Dani,” Cassandra said dreamily without lifting her head or even opening her eyes.

“What are you two doing?” Alcina asked in amusement while ducking inside.

“Counting lightning bolts,” Daniela answered.

“Relaxing,” Cassandra said a moment later. “Isn’t this weather amazing?”

Bela winced.

“It certainly is something,” Alcina said, glancing out the window. She gave Bela’s back a gentle rub before walking over to her chair and sitting down. Daniela instantly skittered over to her and pressed her head right into the space between her neck and shoulder with a bright smile. Alcina chuckled, stroking her cheek, earning her blissful purrs.

“Where were you, Bel?” Cassandra asked, rolling over to look at Bela, but not quite getting up. She seemed much too relaxed.

“I-I, umm--”

“She was helping me close the windows,” Alcina answered for her eldest. “After I had to berate her for reading in the dark again.” She gave Bela a playful glare, making Bela smile faintly.

“Ooooh,” Daniela giggled. “You got in troubleeeee!”

Bela rolled her eyes. She finally moved from her rigid position by the door to sit on the floor next to Alcina’s chair. Alcina reached down to set a comforting hand on her head.

It was then that thunder ripped through the castle, causing all of the walls to shudder, and each of Alcina’s girls jolted. Daniela and Cassandra’s heads popped up, while Bela sank her claws in the cracks between the floorboards, trying to keep her breathing under control.

“Goddamn,” Cassandra muttered, sitting up straight. She stretched out the sore spots in her back. “We’re going to drown at this rate.”

Bela’s shoulders lurched. Alcina gave Cassandra a stern glare.

“Oooh, you know what we should do?” Daniela said. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Beli should sing to us!”

“What?” Bela snapped her head to her younger sister faster than the lightning could strike outside.

“Ohh, yeah,” Cassandra nodded.

“What are you talking about?”

Daniela gave her a look. “Don’t be dumb! We all know you like to sing!”

“No, I don’t,” Bela stammered, the tips of her ears turning red.

“Yes, you do,” Cassandra said. “We hear you sing when you fill up the bathtub.”

“You can hear me?!” Bela shrieked.

“Yeah!” Daniela said. “When you hit that vibrato last night… Incredible! Amazing! Showstopping!”

“You did sound very nice,” Alcina nodded.

“MOTHER!!”

Bela buried her face in her hands, which had gone completely red with embarrassment. Alcina chuckled and scratched her scalp.

“You have a wonderful voice, darling,” Alcina said.

“Yeah!” Daniela agreed. “Much better than Cassie. She sounds like a crow with a chicken bone stuck in its throat!”

“At least I don’t belt at the same octave as the torture victims,” Cassandra struck back, and she and Daniela both burst into laughter.

“Now, now, girls,” Alcina said.

“Oh, come on, Mother,” Cassandra said. “Daniela knows I’m just kidding. The victims sound better than she does, and they’re not even trying to sing!”

Daniela shrieked with more laughter. She didn’t seem offended at all. “Oh, I sound bad? You know the noises a donkey makes?”

Cassandra slapped the ground while snorting into her hand.

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way, then smiled down at Bela. “You would be a step above whatever they can do. But only if you want to.”

Bela looked up at her, her amber-gold eyes glinting in the firelight, then nodded. After a moment of silently encouraging herself, she took a deep breath and began to sing.

It was a beautiful melody in the howling of the storm.

[lune-hime]

Future (Chocobros x f!Reader)

“How did you imagine our future?” 

↞Noctis↠

The blossoms tickled your cheek as you turned to regard the prince. His question was asked with a tone as light as the crisp night air.

“Well, last I checked we were still getting married.” You chuckled, reaching out to idly caress a velvety petal between your fingertips. “It will be a grand wedding, no doubt.”

Noctis hummed contently next to you, your forms spread out in the vast field.

“We can expect nothing less from Specs.” He added. The two of you giggled at the image of a Ignis as a wedding planner.

“What should we do for the honeymoon?” You speculated to the starry sky, gaze getting lost in the endless maze of constellations.

“Sleep.” Noctis replied dreamily. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief, the movement causing petals to fall into your splayed locks.

“How about going fishing?” He proposed. The scowl you gave him caused an amused smile to settle on his smooth features.

“Altissia and a little sleeping and fishing on the side?” He offered in a last ditch attempt to fit his two favorite activities into the plans.

“That sounds more like it.” You sighed happily, letting the coolness of the midnight breeze delicately prickle your skin.

“Y/N.” Noctis cooed, the sound as smooth as the surface of the flowers. You turned back towards him, heart lighting up when you were met with his smile. The euphoria only lasted a moment, however, before the once pleasant chill of the night began giving you goosebumps.

“Promise me something.” He requested in a feigned upbeat tone. You could tell he was trying to mask the sadness in his voice.

You nodded once, watching the corners of his mouth quiver slightly.

“Anything.” You whispered. Noctis’ touch was temperate in contrast to the brisk air as he reached out to run his palm along your jawline.

“Promise me you won’t let me ruin your future."

Every physical aspect of reality had seemed to halt in that moment. You no longer had any sense of time nor of the itchy feeling of the blades of grass against your bare legs. You could no longer see the complex colors of the heavens and the moons seemed like dull street lights in the sky. The cold wind no longer bit at your skin. You felt completely numb to everything except Noctis.

“What?” You choked, suddenly feeling like a rock was lodged into your throat. Noctis’ shook his head, silently telling you not to cry, and flashed you another grin.

“Please do everything we just talked about, either for yourself or with someone who makes you happy.” His voice cracked at the second half of his phrase, but he retained his grin.

“I’m so sorry I’m not able to give you that future, goddess knows I would have given you the entirety of Eos.” His sapphire eyes reflected the dazzling lights in the sky and his gaze was filled with thousands of words he would never be able to say to you.

“Instead of living in my memory, live for my memory, okay?” His eyes softened into a smile of their own as he regarded you like it was the last time he ever would.

Suddenly, you felt the sudden urge to embrace him but before you could throw yourself into his arms, he had disappeared on the wind and you felt yourself being dragged out of the field with a swift tug.

“Rise and shine, Y/N. By the six, we need to find a new expression for that now. Time for another hunt.” Iris sang as she gingerly shook you awake. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you craned your neck to peek out the tent window to regard the dark world that awaited for you. Heaving yourself up from your sleeping back, you rubbed your eyes and cracked your back with a resounding pop before getting to your feet. After slipping on your boots, you gave the jewel around your left ring finger a loving twirl as you walked out to the campsite. Even in the shadows of Eos, the little gem still managed to shine.

“I promise, Noct.”

He was now your past, but you would forever be his future.  

↞Prompto↠

He was the personification of a wilting flower. His once bright eyes were now sunken and bordered by heavy bags. He barely showed his dazzling smile anymore, so you had said goodbye to the little dimple on his cheek weeks ago. Even his once vibrant golden locks had seemed to dim in hue along with the rest of the world. When Eos lost its sunlight, so did you.

You barely registered the question he posed into his lukewarm coffee. Your heart broke when you hear the hopelessness in his voice.

Turning towards him, you reached over only to brush past his arm to grab his camera lying on the diner counter. Prompto looked over to you with slight interest, still slumped weakly in his chair. You flipped through the photos, pressure bubbling behind your eyes at the happiness of your youth. He always kept old pictures on his camera to make sure he never forgot what life used to be like. Photos were physical and more tangible compared to memories, anyway. You blinked back the wetness in your eyes until you found it.

Wordlessly you slid the camera over to him, and he picked it up with gentle hands. Once his gaze met the screen, they starting shaking and the camera began to fall from his grasp. You placed your hands firmly over his, securly holding the device in place.

It was a selfie Prompto took of the two of you at Wiz’s Chocobo Post early on in your journey. Sandwiched in between the two of you was your own Chocobo, Blueberry, his periwinkle feathers bristling in excitement and his beak open in mid chirp. Happiness radiated off you and Prompto, your smiles overtook all the other features of your face and the afternoon sun casted a cheerful glow over the image.

Prompto sucked in a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

“This was our future.” You gestured towards the photo with a sad smile. You removed your hands from his and used them to cup his cheeks, turning him to face you. It was the first time in a while you had gotten him to directly look at you.

“And it still is.” You stated, voice unwavering. As you looked into his eyes, all the memories of your Prompto flashed through your mind like the title credits of a movie. A happy smile found it's way to your lips this time.

“You are forever my sunshine, even more now so that the world has grown dark. And we will find the light again.” You sealed your promise to him with a soft kiss, his arms immediately coming to cup your forearms gently. When you pulled away you saw a few stray tears had begun staining his cheeks but more importantly that dazzling smile that could drive the darkness away with one glance.  

↞Ignis↠

The soft puff of air that left your mouth tickled the corner of Ignis’ lips. Your hesitation caused his heart to sink. He bit his lip nervously, teeth worrying over the chapped skin. He didn't mean to sour the previously sweet and intimate moment but the question had become a chronic worry of his. The various fictional situations of his disability somehow ruining your constantly ran through his mind and were gnawing on his insides.

In the absence of a response, he felt his intrusive thoughts begin to manifest into reality. Before he could turn away, however, your hands on his chest rose to gingerly clasp onto his cheeks, forcing him to face you. Through his clouded vision, he could only see the shadow of your movements but he knew your features were contorted in the way they did when you were trying to articulate a particular feeling.

“I didn't picture it like this, but I know you didn't either.” You almost laughed, bringing his face closer and looking into those milky green orbs. Although seemingly lifeless, they still sparkled with the same vigor the man had expressed before the incident. Brushing his eyelids shut with gentle fingertips, you replaced your touch with a feather light kiss to both of them. When you pulled back, the look of adoration on Ignis’ face made your heart swell. Who knew such a simple thing like a kiss could calm the tidal waves of insecurity that resided within the man.

“But I wouldn't change a thing, because even though the world went to shit, I still have you. And you are still you no matter what happens.”

↞Gladiolus↠

Gladiolus’ question replaced the comfortable silence between the two of you as you maneuvered through the briarwood. The inquiry made you laugh and you almost slipped at the minor distraction, boots squelching against the muddy ground. Gladiolus, reflexes as nimble as ever, gripped your arm thus preventing you from coming into contact with a sizeable bramble bush.

“Well, our lives haven’t exactly been a fairytale now have they?” You replied sarcastically, the both of you chuckling as he lifted up a low hanging vine so you could step under.

“I mean, sure I obviously thought it would be a lot different than this-” You started, abruptly stopping in the middle of the path much to Gladiolus’ confusion.

“But look.” You smiled, pointing to the sky. Gladiolus followed your finger to the thick canopy of the woods. A clearing in the branches allowed for pale rays of sunlight to seep through the dense foliage, the sun warming his skin and causing him to squint. His eyes started to sting from it’s intensity, but it was a welcoming feeling. What wasn’t welcome, however, was the moisture that began collecting in his eyes.

“And we have this” You stated, taking his hand and guiding it to rest on the slight bump of your stomach. He splayed his palm and rubbed soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. He regarded you with an adoration he never knew he would get to experience.

“Thank you, Noct, for giving us this future.” Gladiolus said to the sky, his voice thick with a menagerie of emotions. The sun had given back their ability to live, but it was the boy behind the sun that had given Eos a second chance to shine.

↞Bonus↠

“Noct for the thousandth time NO we are not spending our honeymoon at the recreational fishing area.” You retorted over your shoulder as you sped walked to keep up with a swift paced Ignis. Why did he have to have such long legs?

Ignis was simultaneously speed firing you questions regarding the shapes and materials of various dining wares and whether or not you wanted hydrangeas or lilies placed in the center of each table as the three of you maneuvered through the elaborate department store. Well, it was more like the two of you with how far back Noctis was straggling behind. While Ignis was like a worker bee buzzing from section to section, the prince on the other hand was taking a leisurely stroll; touching random items here and there but not regarding them with much enthusiasm. You had told him that it was fine if he didn’t come; you were enjoying planning out your wedding enough for the two of you. But Noctis protested, saying that even though it wasn’t his favorite thing to do, he wanted to be there because at the end of the day it was both your wedding.

Ignis abruptly stopped in front of a vast display of fabrics, carefully inspecting each one with fine detail. You patiently waited behind the advisor, giving Noctis some time to catch up.  

“On any other occasion a weekend fishing with you sounds heavenly, but I don’t want to spend our honeymoon smelling like trout and stinky worms.” You stated, grimacing at the thought of your cute outfits smelling like dead fish.

“Which one of these do you fancy would be suitable for the table cloths for the reception?” Ignis inquired, shoving a book of samples into your hands as he slowly moved down the line of textiles. A moment later, Noctis popped up behind you, idly looking at the samples from over your shoulder. Once you noticed his presence, you held them up so he could get a better view.

“Black obviously.” Noctis declared blandly. It was clear to everyone that he wasn’t that into the whole wedding planning process and was more excited for the actual event than having to be involved in everything that went into arranging it. It didn’t help that he had to get up two hours earlier than he normally did either.

“Of course, Noct, but which black.” Ignis exhaled, looking close to short circuiting. The cloth samples were indeed both a dark shade of cobalt, but they differed in pattern and sheen. Taking matters into your own hands you pointed to the silk cloth with intricate silver embroidering.  

“This one is pretty, Iggy.” You chimed in, wanting to keep Ignis’ sanity intact and let Noctis be done with the whole process as soon as possible.

“Couldn’t agree more, Y/N. You always have had the better sense of aesthetics out of the two of you.” Ignis praised before immediately moving onto the next item on the list, leaving behind an annoyed Noctis. You choked back a laugh and turned to face him, poking his puffed cheeks until his pout turned into a smile.

“How about we go to Altissia, with some fishing on the side?” He proposed, grasping your hands and lowering them from his face to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“It’s a deal!” You beamed, bouncing on your heels. The excitement on your features set off sparks in Noctis’ chest.

“If I receive some persuasion, maybe we can throw in a few naps in there too.” You added playfully, swaying your entangled hands from side to side.

“Oh, we can do more than just nap.” Noctis grinned, taking his hands out of yours and fluidly moving to lightly tickle your sides, offering an animated shriek from you. Just as you were getting into a small tickle fight, the buzzing of the store’s intercom system activated.

“Stop dilly-dallying lovebirds and lets get a move on, we still have to go to the caterer’s office after this. I am in isle 24, the silverware section.” Ignis’ unamused voice echoed off every surface of the building.

The two of you exchanged a look of disbelief before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

“Better not keep him waiting.” You patted his chest and broke away from his embrace. Noctis rolled his eyes and placed a kiss to your forehead before the two of you ran hand in hand to your lovely wedding planner.

[tothemeadow]

hi!! um, since you're open for requests, could i maybe ask for some spicy nsfw for akaza and an f!reader with marechi? preferably one who'd actually be willing to give a little blood? i'd love to see how he reacts to the temptation, considering his reservations with women >v>;; i hope that's ok! if not i totally understand, and thank you regardless for your lovely writing, i've been really enjoying reading through your work <3

Alright, so this request really caught my attention. Back before the Mugen Train hit theatres, I was thirsting over Akaza with somebody and I had this idea of an Akaza dry humping scenario stuck in my head ever since. 

This was my excuse to finally write it 👀

‘the taste of marechi’ / Akaza x Reader

warnings: NSFW, semi-public sex, blood drinking, dry humping/grinding, slight impregnation kink

words: 2,349

-

The marechi. The most delicious, powerful blood a human can have. It’s the forbidden fruit that only so few demons are blessed to have a taste of.

It’s what flows through your veins.

But of course you don’t know, since you’re a lowlife human. Your lifespan is short, your life itself dull. You aren’t aware of the sweet, sweet, liquid gold flowing in your body. You don’t how much demons want you, to taste you.

To devour you.

Now, some demons are utter heathens like the others. Some have standards. Take Akaza, for instance; as he watches you trek through the nighttime streets, he could easily jump you, rip your heart out with his teeth. Why you’re walking alone at night is a mysterious unbeknownst to him. You should certainly know better – there’s more predators than just demons that stalk the night.

It’s a simple rule of his not to eat women. There’s no way for you to defend yourself, for one, and the fact that his food supply comes from women is another point entirely. He tells himself he should just walk away and let you be. That’s what he should do, but his body refuses to leave.

In the distance, he sees a shrouded figure stagger onto the same street you’re walking on. Perched on the sloping roof of a nearby house, he’s essentially able to the entirety of the small town. As the figure draws closer, he can tell that it’s a middle-aged man. His clunky movements tell Akaza that he is clearly drunk. Akaza scoffs at that; oh, to be a pathetic human, having to rely substances to feel a single damn thing.

“Hey, doll!” the man suddenly calls out. Akaza curses under his breath – he must’ve seen you.

Glancing up, you see a strange man walking in your direction. Even from where Akaza sits, he can see your body tense up. Alright, that’s enough for him to spring into action.

Jumping from the roof to another, Akaza draws closer, his eyes locked on the creepy man. He’s already dangerously close to you, a drunken slur of compliments and suggestions spilling from his gross mouth. You slink away, trying not to make any sudden movements. The man follows right after you, his hands extended before him; you screech as he grabs onto your arms, a scowl crossing his face as you struggle in his hold.

A growl rips itself out of Akaza’s throat as he lands on the ground. A cloud of dust kicks up around him from the sheer force. He watches as you squirm in the man’s hold, struggling to break free. The man promptly slaps a meaty hand over your mouth and curses loudly when you bite down on his palm.

Akaza’s on him in seconds; he rips the man off of you, a snarl cracking his face. The man cries out as Akaza throws him like he’s nothing more than a rag doll. He grunts as his back collides with the siding of a building, a sickening snap filling the night air. Akaza turns to your trembling form. You stare at him, eyes wide, your hands clamped over your mouth.

“He was going to take advantage of you,” Akaza grunts. “Come on; I’ll take you home.” Quickly taking your hand in his, he drags you away from the unconscious – maybe even dead – man.

“Hang on!” you yelp.

It’s the first time he’s hearing your voice, but Akaza immediately decides he already likes the sound of it. He complies to your request and comes to a complete stop.

You yank your hand out of his grip. “Who are you? And what did you-“ You cut yourself off as Akaza turns around, golden irises and blue sclera rendering you speechless. Your eyes dart over the dark blue markings of his face, follow them down his body. You audibly swallow. “What are you…?”

Akaza scoffs. “Somebody who just saved you from some creep, obviously.” He rolls his eyes. “Damn weaklings. You’re lucky you’re a woman.”

You gawk at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean? One moment you’re saving me from some stranger, and then the next you’re ridiculing me. I didn’t ask for your help.”

“So you were just going to let him have his way with you?” Akaza quirks an eyebrow. You frown in return but don’t say anything. “That’s what I thought.”

You tongue the inside of your cheek in irritation. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Akaza doesn’t miss the way you stare at his muscled arms as he crosses them over his chest. “I’m a demon, sweetheart.” He cocks his head, his pink eyelashes fluttering. “Or do I have to spell it out?”

A demon? Seriously? But those were only a myth!

Your eyes trail of his markings once more. Everything about him seems inhuman: the markings, the colors of his eyes, his hair. The sheer amount of strength he holds is a different matter entirely.

“Do you have a name?” you croak.

Okay, now that takes Akaza by surprise. Normally, he’d only tell people his name after he’s deemed them worthy. You’re nowhere as strong as him, and from your reaction alone he can tell you’re not a part of the corps committed to taking his head.

“Why do you want to know?” His eyes lock onto the way you bite onto your bottom lip.

“…So I can thank you.”

Akaza’s eyes dart back up to yours. “You want to thank me?”

Slowly, you nod. “You saved me for a reason, right? You could’ve easily killed us both…” You wring your hands, your brows knitting together.

Akaza realizes that you’re right. He could kill you at any moment he wished, but he chose not to. He still doesn’t want to. Your words roll around in his head; he genuinely doesn’t know what to say. With every minute that passes, you visibly grow more nervous. Your fingers clutch onto the fabric of your yukata, and your teeth mindlessly gnaw on your lip.

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He’s ready to tell you to stop. Only pathetically weak people act like this. And he’s ready to tell you off, he really is, but then that smell smacks him right in the face. It’s rich and sweet, just like the world’s finest wine. His mouth waters as it fills his nostrils, makes his head spin.

Marechi.

His stare is intense as you release your bottom lip, tiny droplets of blood sticking to the plump flesh. Heat stirs in the bottom of his abdomen. He stands rigid, his breathing turning heavy.

“Akaza?” you ask, voice gentle. You sound concerned. Your pink tongue flicks out, wipes away the blood.

No, Akaza wants to roar. It’s mine.

Without fully realizing it, he frantically grabs onto your hand. Opening your mouth in a silent question, a surprised yelp escapes instead as Akaza drags you between two houses and away from any possible prying eyes. You grunt as your back meets a wall.

“Akaza, what’s wrong-“

Swooping in, Akaza promptly presses his sturdy body against yours as he captures your lips. Your eyes shoot wide in surprise, but then they quickly fall shut as he does wonders with your mouth. He eagerly sucks on your bottom lip, moaning as more droplets of your blood break the surface and meet his tongue. With one hand on your hip and the other pressed against the wall behind you, Akaza kisses you hungrily, passionately. Your hands scramble to clutch onto his bare shoulders, desperate for something to hang onto.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Akaza pants as he forces himself to break away. You stare after him, a dazed expression on your face. Your lips are swollen, tinted red from both your blood and the force of his kiss. He moans at the sight, a familiar flame sparking in his abdomen.

“Akaza,” you breathe. You yank on his haori, urging him to come closer. His kiss is intoxicating, leaving you drunk and craving for more. Guiding his lips back on yours, you clutch on the short strands of his hair. Furiously, he sucks on your bottom lip, drawing more of your delicious blood.

A nagging voice in the back of his head tells him that he should stop. It’s against his morals to hurt women. But he’s not really hurting you, is he? He’s only drinking your blood, nothing more. He takes back the comment about humans having to rely on substances to feel anything. Your blood is doing things to him; his own blood is spiking in temperature, his heart is thrumming against his ribs, and – oh gods­ – that heavy feeling lying at the bottom of his guts.

His hips buck on their own, his growing arousal nudging your hip. He groans at the friction, the sound deep and husky. You swallow it entirely, your fingernails scratching his scalp. A frustrated keen slips from your lips as he pulls away again; this time, though, he’s frantically yanking the material of your yukata up.

Are you seriously going to do this? You don’t even know the guy! Hell, you’re positive he killed somebody! Yet you can’t deny your own heavy breathing nor the slick gathering between your thighs. And the look he gives you is so sinful, his strange eyes shining with lust. You let him do what he wants, bunching the bottom half of your yukata up to your hips. You moan as his cock grinds against your quivering pussy.

Slathering open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, his hips keep up their relentless pace, his cock practically fucking you through his pants. Your undergarments are completely soaked through; you’re probably getting the front of his pants wet, but you don’t care. You follow his pace, grinding your pussy desperately against his cock.

You’re so dizzy, high off the pleasure he’s giving you. His teeth skim the surface of your skin, but you can feel the hesitation in his movements. You whimper in need, wishing he’d just do it already. “Bite me,” you murmur. “Fuck, Akaza, bite me.”

Akaza openly pants into your neck. “I can’t,” he grunts. His cock kicks in his pants. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

“Akaza,” you whine. “Gods, please, bite me, bite me, devour me.”

A growl emits from the depths of his chest as he gives into his carnal desire; heat bursts in your neck along with the sharp pierce of his teeth. He’s careful only to break the surface of your skin, but fuck it’s enough to have your delicious blood flowing into his waiting mouth.

Desperately clawing at his back and shoulders, you shamelessly grind against him even faster. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head from it all. Throaty little moans leave his mouth as he drinks your blood, his hands grabbing onto your thighs and hauling you upwards. You quickly snake your legs around his lithe hips, the head of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

“So good, Akaza, oh my gods,” you babble.

“Gods dammit,” Akaza snarls as he yanks himself away from your neck. He holds you up with a single hand as the other pushes his pants down, his cock kicking up and smacking against his stomach. Like the rest of him, his cock is covered in dark blue markings. You don’t get much time to appreciate it, though; pushing your undergarments to the side, he slips his cock into you with one brutal thrust.

He bounces you on his cock, his mouth finding its spot on your neck. You moan loudly at his ministrations, the head of his cock reaching far and hitting against the sweet spongy area. Your nails tear into the skin of his shoulders; if it weren’t for that, you’re sure you’d float away. His cock is deliciously thick, fills you up so good every time your velvety walls suck him in.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he growls. You answer him in a fit of stuttering. “Your pussy is as good as your blood,” he says into your ear. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He ravages your body, your slick emitting sinfully wet noises with each stroke of his cock. “I’d fuck a baby into you if I could.”

Throwing your head back, you moan loudly. Your walls quiver around him, your orgasm coming closer and closer. As if sensing your growing need, Akaza drops a hand between the two of you, his fingers seeking out your clit. He rubs harsh circles into the nub, pinches it between his fingers. You clench down around his cock, a mantra of his name echoing into the night.

“More, Akaza, more!” you beg.

Akaza’s hips are bound to leave bruises on you if the force of his thrusts is anything to go by. You convulse around him, your toes curling as you cry his name out. You cum around his cock, your slick going everywhere. The front of his pants and your thighs are completely soaked.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?” Akaza groans. Sinking his teeth into you once more, he grunts as he shoots his load into you. Warmth floods your system, and the head of Akaza’s cock pushes it further into you yet. A mixture of slick and cum drips between your legs, soils his pants and the ground below.

He’s breathing raggedly as he finally halts his thrusting motions. You shake from sensitivity, your thighs trembling from the strain of clinging onto his hips. Akaza helps you down and immediately pulls his small haori off; crouching onto the ground, he slings one of your legs over his shoulder. He curses as he takes in the sight of your puffy lips covered in white.

“Fuck, that’s the best thank you gift I’ve ever received,” he tells you as he gently cleans you up.

You sigh at the feeling of his fingers against your slit. “I can do a lot more than that.”

Golden irises focus on you. “Is that a statement or an invitation?”

You flash him a tiny smile. “Take me home and I’ll show you.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 7- Touch Me Under The Stars

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Now that Bucky is finally out of Cryo, the two of you adjust to life in Wakanda.

Warning: fluff, smut (it gets spicy), Bucky being soft

Masterlist

Life in Wakanda was something you could never have ever dreamed of, they literally had everything here. The buildings were huge, the people so interesting and lively, the scenery absolutely breathtaking, and the tech? Out of this fucking world to put it bluntly. Tony Stark who?

Though you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to be fully satisfied with your new corner of the globe, you had a place to exist and feel comfortable in, even a nice apartment overlooking the city that’s attached to where Bucky is currently being held in.

Right. Bucky.

He’s been on your mind as of late, well in actuality he’s been consuming most of your brain processing for the past couple weeks since you and him arrived here with T’Challa and Steve after the mess in Siberia.

Another painful memory added to the already long list of traumatic experiences endured by you throughout these past sixty or so years. But you’re surviving, well enough for the most part that is; you see Steve left soon after Bucky went into the Cryo chamber. Leaving yourself all on your lonesome in a strange new country with no friends but T’Challa.

If you could even consider him a friend.

Who by the way, makes you still feel pretty uncomfortable around considering all the times you beat the shit out of each other in the past, and he thought you and Bucky killed his dad, so it’s been light treading even if he insists it’s all in the past.

On a lighter note you met his little sister Shuri, who upon discovering who you were and what you can do, immediately began marveling at the fact that you have Adamantium claws in your forearms. She was thoroughly impressed and asked for you to cut a lot of random expensive looking objects for scientific purposes only.

Well that’s what she claimed at least. Other then then those two, you’ve been pretty solitary for the most part. Which has really started getting to you recently, something that T’Challa has begun to notice.

That man is too observant for his own good.

Wind rustles the jungle trees from outside this large glass window in the lounging area of King T’Challa’s extravagant home. They sway freely in the open sun as they stretch their great green leaves to the beautiful sky above. But no bout of joy resides in your heart this day, no matter how enticing the weather may appear.

Soon a new presence is felt in the room, though it’s nothing to be alarmed about as he walks to your side, a thoughtful yet concerned expression crossing over his kingly features, “Are you finding your stay here welcoming Y/N?” Wonders T’Challa softy as you slowly blink.

“I am.”

He frowns, you’ve been quit talkative before, but now you barely even speak to anyone, “My friend I know you are not alright. Please tell me what troubles your heart.”

Dammit he’s good.

Sighing, you hug your sides as he patiently awaits an honest answer, frowning, you reluctantly begin, ��I thought I would be fine....I’ve always been alone for most of my life anyways. Never counted on anyone but myself. Never needed anyone but myself. That’s how I survived. It’s just now.....I have Bucky. And I care about him more then anything in the world, but he’s gone.......well not really but, you know.” You whisper before turning your head towards some tall trees so that the king cannot see the way that your eyes brim with unshed tears. God the ache you feel for him is almost unbearable.

Understanding your deep sorrow from your lovers absence, T’Challa slowly nods, “I cannot fully express an understanding of your pain, as I have never felt it like the way that you have now. Nor have I lived the life of your own.” He admits as you turn your head to catch him in your peripheral vision, not quit ready to meet his unthreatening gaze.

He swallows before continuing, “But this I do know, you are a warrior if I’ve ever known one, and I know many.” Chuckles the king, “You fight fiercely and love deeply, Bucky should be proud to have you by his side. I may envy that kind of love, though I should not say it, it is true.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek as you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand, “Love.” You whisper softly in thought, “I do love him, yes....very much. I’ve been withdrawn lately, because well, I guess I miss him more then I’d realize I would. I hope your people help him. That’s all I ask for, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You might not be waiting quit that long actually.” Reveals Shuri as her familiar footsteps wander into the large sun-lite room overlooking the jungle, “My team just needs a couple more days with him and he’ll be good to go for the most part. Though the process of fully becoming free from the trigger words may take a little longer....his mind will still need time to heal.” Explains Shuri as she moves to stand on your left, opposite of her half-brother.

At this your heart speeds up with excitement, eyes turning to face the smiling princess , “I don’t want to threaten royalty, but I might break a couple of your lounge chairs if you’re lying to me. I’m not joking.” You add half jokingly as T’Challa lightly chuckles.

“Now I do not doubt that.”

——

Today you’ve been summoned into the lab in preparation for Bucky’s defrosting, claiming that having a familiar face as the first thing he sees was probably the best for when he wakes up again, at least that’s what the doctors told you.

And of course you didn’t even hesitate to say yes. So now here you are in their cleaner then a soap bottle lab, standing nervously a couple feet away from the Cryo chamber as some scientists go about their duties to his left. It’s strange, he looks relatively peaceful and serene, like he’s having a nice little nap while standing upright and covered in frost.

Nonetheless Bucky looks handsome as always, soon a tiny subconscious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you await the aftermath of the defrosting process. A button is hit and the familiar whoosh of the air chamber fills your ears as bouts of warm white steam push up into the air from the bottom and sides of his chamber.

The inside goes foggy before one of the scientists flicks a switch and the glass door pops open to emit a plethora of tiny clouds that float up and dissipate just as quickly. In the aftermath, your eyes search for Bucky, he’s still sleeping and is covered in a couple specks of blue frost, his hair undoubtedly wet from the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Give him a moment, he may be slightly disoriented as the body wakes up again.” Explains Shuri from the doorway as you bite your bottom lip anxiously in anticipation for when he’s finally conscious.

“Right.” You nod in understanding, “Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.” You mutter with a depressing chuckle.

A second later you’re alerted to the sound of someone sucking in a deep breath, immediately your head snaps over to witness as Bucky stirs, his fingers curl back to life as his lips part. Then soon after his two icy blue pools slowly reveal themselves to the rest of the lab as he takes a look around.

Your fists grip tightly onto the fabric of your jacket as Bucky swallows before blinking back the slight blur of waking up from a couple weeks of hibernation. The scientists, Shuri, and you study his movements as Bucky’s brow raises in thought, his eyes only on you.

“How longs it been?” He wonders before taking a step to get out of the Cryo chamber.

“Exactly a month and a half Mr. Barnes.” Chirps Shuri enthusiastically as he nods in understanding before she gives a glance between the two of you, “Alright, I’ll give you and Miss. Valerious some time to catch up while we check your vitals.” Adds the princess before exiting out the door, the other scientists following suit.

Now it’s just you and your Bucky; glancing at the floor, the two of you wander into a semi-awkward silence before he finally breaks the ice, “You look good.” He mutters softly, a small reassuring smile on his pink lips as your eyes trail up to meet his.

Revealing a breathy laugh, you shrug, “Hardly. But you on the other hand, white, I like it. It’s a good color on you.”

His stubbled cheeks flush pink as he smiles brightly, “I think I remember you telling me the exact same thing before I went under.”

“Well I just told you again, because I mean it.”

“Well I like the new style..” Points Bucky to your outfit, “it’s Wakandian but very Y/N.....I like it.”

Shaking your head you begin giggling at his adorable compliment, “Barnes you’re too much....but seriously, how do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Thirsty?”

He smiles, “No, uh....I actually feel pretty good honestly. I could go for something to eat though, I’m starving.”

Walking over you gently take his hand in yours, “Say no more. T’Challa’s got everything here.”

——

After Bucky got readjusted and evaluated by Shuri’s team of incredible scientists and brilliant doctors, Bucky was well on his way to a full recovery from the years of mental torture given to him by Hydra. The words didn’t affect him anymore, the anxiety surrounding the very thought of breaking and turning on everyone again was a thing of the past.

He was your Bucky, completely.

In the following days after, T’Challa found a nice place on the outskirts of the grand city where you and Bucky could lay low and recover for some time as needed. Not wanting to over due your stay in his lavish home, and also wanting to feel the breeze again, you both agreed to live in a little village on the edge of a large pond.

All of it was Wakanda, so neither you nor Bucky stressed any worry that the Romanian and German authorities would come bursting through the front gates to whisk you away for your crimes. Or Tony Stark for that matter, he definitely hates you guys without a doubt in your mind.

Definitly with good reason, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever dare give Bucky up.

But on to greener pastures, it’s truly a possible thing that you’ve never seen Bucky in colors besides black or faded red shirts. But now? He wanders around in the brilliantly beautiful colors of Wakanda and her people with a brighter smile on his lips and lack of one arm for the time being.

Ah yes, the arm.

For the most part he’s been fine about it, though he needs your assistance when getting dressed or when attempting to wash the grime from his growing mane. Although, and fortunately for you, he’s still quit proficient in the area of love making with no decline in performance with lack of one arm, much to your satisfaction and his.

Besides that, it’s amusing, since you’ve been staying in this little friendly village, the kids have begun calling him the White Wolf when they want his attention. Which in turn earns a small smile upon his lips, one because he knows you usually hear it and think it’s adorable, and two it’s probably the first honestly kind thing anyone has ever placed on him, ever.

Walking across the villages center area, past huts and ladies washing some of their tunics, you follow the excited rambling of one of the village children as she talks a mile a minute about how you just have to see this really cool thing right now without exception. So of course you have to see this really cool thing, right now.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come! Faster you’re going to miss it, hurry you’re being slow.” Urges Ryn’a with a wave of her hand as she beckons you to starts running with her.

Heeding to her urgent request, you give her aunt a pursed lip grind before racing after the sprinting child, “This better be very interesting, or I’ll throw you into the water again!” You playfully threaten as she giggles across the grassy field.

Soon you’re crouching behind a rock as she peeks over the stony edge, ducking back down, she gives you a mischievous grin, “The White Wolf doesn’t see us.”

Raising a brow you nod, “This is what you wanted me to see? Him?”

Shaking her head she rolls her dark eyes in amusement, “No. We’re hunting.” She smirks in excitement as your brows furrow in confusion. Huh?

“Uh.....what?” Suddenly you connect the dots, “Are we hunting the White Wolf?” You ask, pretty damn positive that’s where this little adventure is going.

Shaking your shoulder excitedly she squeaks with joy before instantly catching herself and quieting down real quick, “He’s just over this rock. Chopping wood for the fire tonight....we need to hit him with a stick okay, then we run.”

Slowly nodding, your eyes trail over her excited face, “Hmm, okay. But I gotta ask, did Kova put you up to this and I’m now an accomplice?”

Biting her bottom lip, she diverts her gaze to the bushes behind you before mumbling out, “He might have......and if I was to hit the White Wolf on his head without getting caught. I’d get to play the drums for the fire tonight.” She whispers almost embarrassed.

Giving her a kind smile, you gently touch her shoulder in reassurance as she looks to you now, “Well then. Looks like we’re on a wolf hunt today, huh. Lucky for you, I’m great at throwing sticks.”

Immediately she squeals in joy before standing as still as stone, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t think he heard a sound.” You reply, snatching a ruler sized stick from the ground before peeking over the grey sun kissed rock.

There he is, in his red tunic completely oblivious, using a Vibranium axe to chop away at the wood for tonight’s fire dance. Sitting back down, you press your back against the stone as Ryn’a clenches her fists in excited anticipation, “Ready, Y/N?” You nod as she smiles.

“Okay good....don’t miss.” She warns.

“I never miss.” You muse before turning back around, your eyes peek up over the edge and watch as Bucky sets another log on the flat rock, he hauls the axe down, splitting the wood in two.

Setting the axe down again, he walks over to the small log pile before selecting one and setting it back on the flat rock, bending down to grab the axe and when he stands to his full height again...

Smack!

Instantly the dry weather worn stick flies from the back of his head to the ground below as he throws a wary look in your direction. Though he sees absolutely nothing but a big grey rock and some bushes. Touching the back of his head, he looks down and swiftly picks up the relatively unthreatening piece of dried wood.

Studying it like it’s the holy grail and will give him all the answers to eternal life and whatnot, he throws it to the ground before continuing with his duties as you turn back to Ryn’a. “That was a good hit.....can you do it again? Please?” Mutters the little beast as you settle down from that adrenaline rush of perfectly nailing Bucky in the back of his head without getting caught.

Let’s not forget you were one of Hydra’s most deadliest assassins.

Her dark chocolate eyes stare pleadingly and puppy-like as she fake pouts, “Please Y/N? I won’t ever leave another turtle in your house ever again....promise. I promise, please?” She quietly begs as you contain your laughter.

“Yeah alright. But you’re gonna have to run cause he’s probably gonna figure out where the second one came from.” You add with a smirk, “I’ll deal with the wolf after. I can take him.”

“Yes!” She squeaks, “Oh, sorry I mean....yes.” She whispers quietly as you search for a new stick to throw.

Soon enough you find another and cautiously look around the side of the rock this time, there’s Bucky, setting another log on the flat rock before slicing it in half. Instantly the biggest grin pulls your lips into a Cheshire Cat smile as he turns to grab another log.

Smack!

“Hey! Who was that?!” He shouts in confusion as Ryn’a bursts with laughter before booking it back to the safety of the village while you crouch there behind a rock cackling like a child.

God that was such an accurate hit too. And he didn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly you hear the sounds of feet running against the earth, when Bucky makes it to the back of the large rock you’re nowhere to be found. Brows furrowing, he looks at the bushes and then over to the nearby village before shaking his head and turning around to walk back over to his usual duties for the day.

Only now he’s confronted by the casually innocent face of you who’s standing there with the axe slung over your shoulder, “Something scare you Barnes?” You muse with a small laugh before nodding towards the wood, “I mean these logs can be pretty scary I won’t hold it against you. You might have seen a snake, who knows.”

Sauntering back over to you he stands there for a moment just observing your casually calm self, “Why do I have a suspicion you just hit me with a stick. Twice.”

Shrugging, you slam the axe into the dirt before rising up to meet his humored gaze, “Maybe it was a Rhino, maybe it was a little nine year old who needed me to win her a drum. Guess you’ll never know.”

Glancing from the ground then back up to you again, Bucky shakes his head at your theatrical antics, warm smile ghosting across his lips, “Well just so you know it didn’t hurt.” Assures your big tough man with a nod.

“I’ll use a bigger stick next time.” You quip as he takes a step closer to you.

Handsome face breaking out into a beaming grin, “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’m tired of chopping wood.” He says as his fingers ghost against the bare skin of your sleeveless shoulders, “I just want to be with you.”

Touching the side of of his stubbly cheek affectionately, you smile, “Where too? By the pond?” Which causes him to snort a breathy laugh.

“No, I don’t trust you by open water.”

You shrug in agreement, remembering the first time you both arrived here and the children brought you into a splashing fight where you got Bucky’s hair all wet, “Yeah that’s fair.”

——

After enjoying a pleasant evening walk together, eating a delicious traditional Wakandian meal, and watching the performers for the celebration dance and beat on their drums for hours into the night. You and Bucky decided to steal away from the festivities and have a little moment together under the stars, just you and him, nothing and no one else.

“That was nice wasn’t it.” You mutter as he lays on his back next to you, “I like these people. They’re kind.”

Turning his head to meet your shadowed face, he smiles adoringly as you keep a steady gaze set on the stars above, “Well, no ones trying to kill us so I’d say we’re doing alright.”

“We are, aren’t we. Who would have thought that shit huh? Two ex-assassins, two fucked up people like us laying like sappy teenagers under the stars. This almost feels like some stupid romantic film.”

Bucky lets out a proper laugh this time as you send him a humored look, “What? I’m being honest!”

Quickly he rolls onto his side to face you, a new sultry flicker flashing through his dark gaze, “Maybe I like being sappy with you.” He mutters lovingly before trailing a finger across your jaw as you study his face.

“Sappy with me? Why Mr. Barnes are you flirting with me this fine evening?” You muse with a breathy chuckle as he smiles brightly down at you.

“I was hoping you’d notice, is it working?” He asks, a hopeful look in his dark blue eyes.

Leaning closer, he’s pleasantly surprised when you gently press your lips to his, “My God James you’re making me swoon.” You jest before snickering at your shitty old-timey accent replacing the Eastern European one, “Why I’ve never met such a character, now tell me Mr. Barnes, are you a single man?”

Holding in his laughter, he takes a breath before answering, “Doll, I’m taken.”

Gasping in mock surprise, you quickly sit up before pushing him onto his back by both shoulders, your legs to either side of his torso as your faces keep mere inches apart, “Well, well, well how about that.” You slyly tisk, your natural accent dripping heavily as it sends a thrill through Bucky, “Lucky woman indeed. But I can guarantee you, I’m much more enticing.”

Bucky shivers as you lean your body closer to his, your silky hands to either side of his flushed face as you smile a devilish grin in the darkness, “I don’t doubt it.” He rasps, voice just barley above a whisper, lips so close to yours now you could almost taste him.

“I just realized something.” You suddenly mumble against his plush inviting lips.

Bucky hums in reply, to completely and utterly enthralled by your seductive charm to even form a coherent sentence, you smirk before rising to properly sit up against him, “Bucky, you look better in the dark.”

His stomach rises with a deep laugh that rubs pleasingly against your growing warmness as he gently squeezes a hand on your right thigh, “You’re gonna get it for that one.” He muses, appearing like he’s about to flip you over but you’re not having any of that.

Pressing a hand against his firm chest, you suddenly grind your clothed nether regions slowly and meticulously against his lower stomach. He quickly lets out a low guttural moan as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Pulling away, you rest one hand on the thin Wakandian blanket that’s keeping you two from the dirty ground below, your other hand gently trailing down the side of his stubbly face, “Just let me make love to you okay? If you want that i...”

“Yes!” Interrupts Bucky with a great bout of enthusiasm before catching himself, “I mean....uh, yes please.” He mutters, failing to regain his composure as you circle your hips against his fiery skin. Oh, you are certainly enjoying yourself.

Smiling into the half moonlight, your eyes trail cautiously over to the burning village bond-fire a small trek away, seeing everyone laughing and minding their sweet business you then immediately pull your shirt off, your bra following right after just as quickly. Laying discarded on the nearby grass for later; Bucky’s eyes go wide with lust as the outline of your curves and protruding breasts flash like gold in the moonlight.

God you’re so beautiful, he thinks, and all mine.

The smile that Bucky gives you could just about light up a room on the darkest of nights, he wants you, he needs to be consumed by you, to feel you for all that you are. You can see it by the way that he rubs your partially exposed thigh, by the way his eyes never leave yours and when they do it’s to wander around your divine vessel.

He’s never been more in love then in this very moment, if that’s even possible; he’s never really spoken too deeply about it, his time with Hydra. But he’s undoubtedly glad that you found him when you did, he was in a dark place then. Lost and alone, on the run and keeping to the shadows as best he could from the rest of the hungry eyes of the world.

Then one day out of the blue you showed up with nothing but your wits and a kind smile to show you meant no harm, all you wanted was to see him again after all that time apart from your escape and his imprisonment with Hydra. He was sent to kill you, but you came back to him anyways.

He didn’t understand it at first, when he began to realize what falling in love truly felt like, but with time it came to him. At first sight wasn’t something that happened by any means, he was nervous to see you, standing there so innocently in his apartment in Bucharest. He thought he was being careful, he thought he was safe.

But then Hydra’s most prized weapon and most difficult one at that, you, had shown up to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t believe it, but what scared him the most as he let you stay with him, he was slowly but surly beginning to fall in love with you.

Now that was a new feeling he hadn’t felt in decades, you intrigued him, made him laugh with the simplest of offhanded side comments, made him try to be a better person. And most of all you made him feel wanted and loved, and that is something he will always hold dearly to his very heart and soul.

Because as you’ve said to him, you’re his ride or die no exception, you’ll always be there to throw a punch for him or to gather himself in your arms when the darkness threatens to consume him for all he’s worth.

You’re not afraid of him like so many are, you don’t run from danger, oh no, when Bucky’s concerned. You’re ass will fight to exhaustion to keep him safe and alive. Which so far has proved a very useful state of mind in consideration to the past events that have currently led you two on this ever changing roller coaster.

From Bucharest to Berlin, a flight to Siberia and a long skip down to Wakanda; you two will be by each other’s side no matter the distance. Because to put it bluntly, you’re all Bucky has left in the world and Bucky is all you have either, one without the other would be a dreadful existence.

Luckily for you, Bucky’s incredibly alive and doing pretty damn alright all things considered. Also for the current moment, he’s becoming an undone mess underneath you. Which is just what you’ve wanted, he deserves it.

Trailing a fiery pathway of butterfly kisses from his collarbone all the way up to his neck and jawline, Bucky emits a deep groan of pleasure as you palm him through his baggy pants that have started to tent with the pull of his growing hardness.

His lower half is still clothed while your whole body is free for the shimmering stars to bear witness to, and Bucky of course. “Y/N. Please.” He rasps as you feel up his clothed manhood while you grind tirelessly against his bare stomach, the sensation no doubt drawing you into a blissful rising climax to follow.

Stopping your pleasurable attack to his hardened member, you swiftly roll off of him as you decide it’s time to get things rolling, “Alright hot stuff get that shit off, I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

“Give me a sec...” Grunts Bucky as he kicks off his pants into the grass before you help him prepare to slip off his underwear, holding the top rim of the fabric, you generously pull it to his ankles before he kicks them off completely.

He chuckles as your face flashes with delight once all the goods are finally shown at long last, “See something you like?” Quips your man as your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze, huh were you staring?

A hot second later you’re hovering directly above his heated body as he strains from grabbing your soft hips and pushing your slick entrance into him. He wants you to enjoy yourself more then anything in the world, so instead does he pull you in for a heated kiss.

“I see many things that I like.” You whisper against his soft lips before slowly sinking down onto him, the sensation of his fullness and girth pulling you into a world of bliss.

Your smile is almost provocative as he moans, the sounds of his pleasure sending sparks of electricity into your system, “God Buck, you feel so fucking good.” You praise, rolling your hips back and forth against him shamelessly, God he loves it when you sweet talk him

He smirks against the corner of your lips before kissing your cheek, “You.....to-too.” Stutters Bucky while you continue to relentlessly ride him like a wild bull, the rocking of your hips causing him to forget how to properly speak.

He looks absolutely angelic, dark locks spread out upon the Wakandian blanket, shirtless, and face smiling with great happiness and joy that he’s been so terribly deprived of for such a long time. Not anymore. Not if you can help it.

Biting your lip when his member twitches inside you, you’re helpless to stop as a soft voluptuous whimper leaves your parted lips unexpectedly when he bucks his hips into you for some more friction. Noticing how well this new action is being received by you, Bucky does it over and over again until you’re nothing but a moaning mess above him.

Dammit he knows how to make you feel good.

Your body falling fully onto him as he makes you cum hard, “F-fuck.....oh God Buck, fuck me.” You mumble against his lips as he thrusts up into you over and over until he finally spills inside you with a concentrated grunt.

“oh.” You gasp breathlessly as Bucky flips you onto your back in one skilled motion, still deep within your wet warmness as his whole body presses you wonderfully into the soft blanket, “I hope they can’t see us.” You point out as Bucky chuckles before kissing your jawline, strong hips pushing against yours as he parts your legs further with his large body.

“It’s dark out.” Mutters Bucky in reply as he pulls another moan from your sweet lips, “They’re dancing.....and we’re....oh fuck....uhh....yes...” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suddenly squeeze your walls tightly around his cock as a second orgasm hits you, “Dear God Y/N.” Moans Bucky while you trail pink fiery lines down his muscular back.

Smiling against his lips, you fully enjoy the sensation of his thick member sliding in and out of you at a blissfully rapid pace as he continues to make a mess down there with his pleasure inducing actions. You’re incredibly grateful for the fire dance celebration happening a little ways away and all the loud pounding of the tribal drums that masks over the sounds of yours and Bucky’s intense love making on the Wakandian savanna.

Biting your lip, you can’t help when more whiney moans slip from your mouth, he’s a relentless force of lust and love that’s on a mission to see you filled to the brim with pleasure once more. He needs you, he wants every single inch of your heated vessel, he needs you to come for him just one last time.

“Y/N.” Mumbles Bucky against your parted lips as you slowly nod in acknowledgment, too fucked out to think. He smirks, “Cum for me, last time okay.” Says your lover sweetly as his hips roll against your sweaty skin, sending waves of building pleasure on a crash course for your hot core that’s pulsating in delight.

Digging your nails into the slick muscle of his broad back, you suck in a breath while his hard member slides in and out of you with ease. You’re about to come undone right under him yet again, the power of this man you could just about die happy, “Fuck,” You whimper helplessly as he kisses your cheek, “oh God Buck I’m close.”

He smiles proudly as his hips thrust forward, cock sliding deep within your warm walls as his manhood presses on the brim of your entrance, working absolute wonders on your over-stimulated clit.

Soon enough, the tight coil bursts open, sending shock waves of absolute radiant bliss that causes your muscles to tighten and shake reflexively. A sudden wetness slips out around his cock and onto the Wakandian blanket that’s definitely going to need a deep cleaning tomorrow.

The new liquid slides down your inner thighs as your body slowly yet surly comes down from your salaciously erotic climax; head unclouding the thick fog away, you take a deep breath only for yourself to realize you just squirted for the first time ever.

And it appears Bucky has just come to this thrilling realization too, locking eyes with him, you’re greeted with a sly smirk, “Did I just make you squirt?” Muses Bucky in underlying excitement as you simply roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I can deny it considering it’s all over the blanket, among other places.” You sass back, still aware of how he’s still buried deep inside you, “Proud of yourself?” You add with a small laugh.

Kissing your lips in reply, he pushes himself up by his one arm to gently slip out of you before laying in an exhausted heap at your side, “Actually. Yes, I am very proud of myself thanks for asking.” Quips Bucky while his hand trails down your bare rib cage before a huge grin reveals itself in the darkness, “I just made my girlfriend squirt!” Shouts Bucky without a care in the whole goddamn world.

Smacking his arm, you quickly sit up and look around, though it appears no one even knows you two are out here, “Will you shut up!” You whisper yell down at Bucky who’s giving you the biggest white toothed smile ever, “Stop smiling it wasn’t that impressive.”

Faking a half offended look, he pats your leg affectionately, “It was! And you seemed to be enjoying it so just accept that I’ve gotten better at this.”

You scoff, “I never said you weren’t. It’s just we’ve been together for almost three years and that’s the first time I’ve ever done.....that. So..”

“And it just happened so therefore I am amazing and you’re just going to have to accept how hot I am Y/N.”

“Buc..”

“I was getting you all hot and bothered doll.” Winks Bucky seductively as you shake your head at him, a reluctant smile creeping onto your beautiful features anyway.

“God you’re so old.”

Bucky snorts, “And aren’t you 65 or something? Sleeping with a 90 year old man....Y/N you’re getting out of hand.”

Shoving his hand off of your leg, you swiftly fall into his side as his arm curls up to wrap protectively against your waist, “Bucky shut your ass up.” You snicker, “I liked you better when I was on top. All you did was give me that “oh god Y/N oh fuck me ohhh I’m gonna I’m gonna...”

Bucky squeezes your side, “Okay. Okay. I get it you little asshole....let’s just, let’s just rest a moment yeah?”

You hum, shifting yourself so that you can lay against his chest, “Getting mushy on me now Barnes?” You whisper softly with a playful smirk.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his plush lips while he glances down at you, “A little.”

For about twenty minutes the two of you keep silent, just listing to the yelps and thunderous pounding of the drums from farther away. There is no reason to leave, no reason to move, no reason to speak. Just you two, laying wrapped up together in each others loving embrace, taking in the moment for as long as you can. The future is always uncertain, so every single second with Bucky is a blessing to be cherished and consumed for all you can take.

His breaths are slow and steady as you feel the soft rise and fall of his muscular chest that’s pressed against your breasts and face. His fingers run gentle line up and down your naked skin as you hug him close.

“Do you remember when we first saw one another?” Asks Bucky, his voice almost startling you. Lips just barley brush against your naked shoulder as he holds you close, your face nuzzled comfortably against his dark hair.

You pause, eyes blinking as they shift over to Bucky while he awaits an answer, “It was a long time ago Buck.”

“I know. But do you remember?”

Shrugging, you shift a bit to have a better look at his face, “I do. But you were the Winter Soldier and I was.....something I never want to be ever again.” You mutter, the sadness and regret deep in your soft voice.

All goes silent for the next couple minutes before Bucky suddenly kisses your shoulder, “I thought you were beautiful.”

Yours brows raise as you pull from his right grasp to sit up on one elbow while you look down at him, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you hold back tears. You didn’t expect to get this emotional but here you are naked and bare for him, “You did?”

Bucky nods in the darkness, heart hurting when your voice cracks, he’s never told you a word about how he felt when he was a weapon, “And every day after that.”

“oh.”

“I didn’t want them to.....well, you know.....I didn’t want to forget you.” Confesses Bucky, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t. Thank you for finding me Y/N....I owe you my life.”

Biting the bottom of your quivering lip, he smiles adoringly up at you, “Bucky....shut up you’re going to make me cry you bastard.” He laughs as you indeed shed a couple stray tears in this soft moment of vulnerability with your sweet man as he holds you protectively in his arm.

“I mean it...every single word, you mean so much to me Y/N. The world would be a darker place without you in it...”

You lower your head in shame, all those buried memories piling up all at once, “No. No it wouldn’t be....I’m part of the darkness Bucky...you know that..”

“Y/N, look at me, please.” Begs Bucky as you begrudgingly lift your head for him to meet your tearfully sad eyes, “Don’t let them win. What they did to us, what they made us do....you’re so much better then all of that. We’ve changed Y/N, for the better and you know it...the words can’t break me anymore and you, you’re free.”

“Okay.” Is all you’re able to rasp out before more tears fall willingly from your eyes, tiny water droplets of grief and remorse pattering against his bare chest, Bucky’s heart breaks for your pain and loss, and everything those fuckers at Hydra put you through before your escape to freedom.

He knows how much you hate yourself for all the innocent people you killed, granted not many were adherently innocent, but there where many that died by your hand because wrong place wrong time or by Hydra manipulation. Selling you false secrets that painted some people who were indeed good, as the enemy equal to the worst kinds of humans.

He knows, and he refuses to let you fall into this dark pit of despair, “I love you...okay, Y/N I love you so fucking much.” His words are well heard and received as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

There he holds you tightly, there he will protect you with his life, and there he will stay with you under the stars until dawn breaks out over the horizon.

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A little written-in-the-middle-of-the-night Loki fic snippet that just grew another leg. TVA Loki + Lokane. Rating T.

(First part is here)

Shine a Light, part II

The tempad feels hot and slippery in his palm as he stalks down the hallway, quickly putting distance between himself and the hunter he left unconscious amidst overturned chairs and tables in the canteen.

The mess had already been there, leftovers from workers rushing panicked to man their stations. He had simply added one more touch.

Tiny droplets of sweat bead his brow and blood has started seeping though the tear in his crumbled shirt.

The fabric is clinging wetly to his bicep, but in the mayhem unfolding around him, nobody gives him a second glance.

For the first time, he is thankful at least to be wearing the anonymous uniform dictated by the oppressors.

He reaches the kill me kind of room again and shuts the door behind him.

You were meant to cause suffering and death.

You’re a cosmic mistake.

You were meant to die at the hands of the mad titan.

Lies.

All lies.

Still projected on the wall is the paused image of a lost memory of his unfulfilled fate.

He sees himself, Thor and her on the barren planet with the black soil. The man he never became is lying on the ground, Thor cradling him.

She watches them both in shock.

It resonates in his bones. He has to go there.

He has to reach his brother at this precise, excruciatingly rare moment of heroism. His act of heroism.

Before the scheming and deceit poison their bond once more in an endless loop of disappointment.

In this moment, all is forgiven. Thor will listen and help. A different path will branch.

And he has to go to her.

It is ludicrous, this riddle, yet the truth of it presses hard on his chest.

On the grainy roll of film, he saved her life and her eyes bore into his with such intensity, his acute need still reverberates like an echo between the walls of the kill me kind of room.

The smell of lilacs lingers.

What will happen when he faces his own self on the timeline, he can’t imagine. Also, he gives it little thought at this late stage with universal logic already suspended as it is. Hopefully he can reason with the man he was meant to be.

He has had quite enough of being his own past, present and future selves’ worst enemy.

And so he pushes the buttons on the tempad.

//

Something is very wrong.

The sky is too blue, the distant sound of waves lapping calmly at a shore is misplaced.

He has emerged from the door onto a quiet gravel road lined with tall grass and low pines. A single, white wooden house stands to his left, surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. The sun is warm on his back.

This is Midgard, he is sure of it.

How could he shoot past his destination so spectacularly?

He is about to scroll down the list of numbers and names on the tiny screen of the tempad when he notices a man approaching. Old, walking leisurely with a round, short-legged dog much the same white color as the mortal’s own wispy hair.

The latter starts a little when he spots Loki.

And then he does the most unexpected thing and speaks his name.

Loki’s name.

He almost drops the tempad (no! Not again) and the old one grins good-naturedly. “Hold on to your fancy phone there. Far away, were we?”

Loki only just about stops himself from shaking the man by his shoulders. His fists clench uncontrollably.

“What year is this?! How do you know my name?”

His voice sounds shrill, feverish, and unsurprisingly the eyes in the lined face before him go wide with puzzlement and … something else.

“Loki, what on Earth? Are you quite alright?”

Shock washing over him, Loki staggers back. H-how?

But the man is closing the gap between them, oozing concern. “Have you - are you drunk?” he asks incredulously.

He reaches out.

What is happening?

Loki shies away from the touch, his mind spinning.

Forcibly gathering his composure, he straightens and wills his words to come out steady. “No, I’m okay. Apologies. A bad joke”.

He smiles reassuringly. It takes more effort than parting an ocean.

The dog is sniffing insistently at his ankles.

The man looks him over with suspicion but the worry is subsiding. “Okay, then… no harm, no foul. You know, sometimes these peculiar ‘jokes’ of yours can make a neighbor all kinds of slightly worried”.

Neighbor?

“Most understandably, won’t happen again. Sorry to have bothered you”. Loki cuts him off smoothly. “Have a nice day”. He nods and turns before hysteria can creep into his voice.

“In case you need it for your punchline, the year is 2016”, the man calls over his shoulder as he shuffles away, pulling the reluctant dog after him.

Loki’s blood runs cold. 2016. Oh, this is so wrong. Three years wrong.

Did he hit another button at the last minute? He had been clutching the tempad so hard the edges cut into his fingers.

He curses his own impatience. Tech savvy indeed.

Holding up the blasted piece of TVA wizardry, he tries to enter a new series of numbers when his name rings out again.

And again, he almost jumps. But this time, his heart stays in his throat.

//

“Loki? What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you”.

Her voice reaches him from the porch of the white house. She is skipping lightly down the steps, the screen doors left open behind her. Music drifts into the garden from somewhere inside.

She is crossing the lawn. He is no longer breathing.

Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a light blue summer dress. Her feet are bare.

Absurdly, he notes that she looks more tanned than the last time he saw her through the visor of the destroyer in the desert. A year and a lifetime ago. To him.

His grip on whatever reality he’s been clinging to since New York is seriously faltering.

She is beaming. He cannot move a muscle.

She comes all the way up to him and without pause wraps her slender arms around his neck. He can feel the warmth of her body through his shirt, smell the perfume of her skin. She smells of … -

“Where did you go, handsome?” She smiles playfully.

“Pepper called earlier to say that she actually got Tony out of the door on time, if you can believe it, so they’ll be here any minute. And her and I agreed that you two hotheads are going to play nice tonight, okay?”

She is teasing him but he hardly understands the words she’s saying. It makes no sense.

And then, before he can begin to form a response, she stands on tiptoes and kisses him and the world falls away.

Reflexively, he puts his arms around her, drawing her close to him. She moans happily. He leans into the kiss, not knowing what he’s doing other than that he never wants to stop.

Her mouth is soft and warm and new and familiar all at the same time, and the way her fingers curl in his hair sends electricity shooting down his spine.

It should be all anguish and tragic confusion, like before in the castle beyond time, but it is not.

It feels more right that anything he can remember since before his fall from the Bifrost, more real and yet more magical than his recent journeys into mystery.

Then it’s over all too soon and she draws away.

His arms are suddenly much too empty and he almost reaches for her again, craving her touch.

For a fleeting heartbeat, his soul had no longer felt torn apart to the point of forgetting he’d ever been whole.

The chaos had crumbled in on itself like a bad dream.

He is surprised he still knows what peace of mind feels like after what has happened to him since arriving at the TVA.

But now she looks at him with alarm in those beautiful brown eyes and he is crudely reminded that he is an intruder in her reality.

What she thought she saw, she clearly no longer recognizes.

It takes him all of three stupidly long seconds to remember that she said his name. That he’s wearing his own face and not a disguise.

That she knew him immediately, just like the old man.

She kissed him.

Too many impossible possibilities and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat (surely she can hear it too) blur his vision.

He’s only vaguely aware that he is stepping towards her, trying to say something without the faintest idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth.

If it’ll even be words.

Her eyes dart over his clothes, his face.

“Loki, what - Why are you dressed like that? Have you been gone? Is that … blood?”

She retreats further, fear building.

“Jane, I-“

Her name rolls of his tongue with a sweet-tasting intimacy like he has said it a thousand times before.

But he doesn’t get to dwell on this, nor gather his thoughts to say anything else before something abruptly lifts him off the ground and hurls his body across the road.

“How dare you touch her, beast?!”

Immediately as his back connects with the rough gravel, someone is there, a knee pushing him down, fingers closing around his throat. A sharp object presses against his chin.

There is a dangerous, unhinged growl as his attacker breathes hotly in his ear. “You will die for this!”

The man is strong and somehow blocking Loki’s own magic, but he still manages to twist his head -

And looks right up into his own eyes, nearly black with rage.

//

“Speak! What are you??”

The man with a face exactly like his presses the tip of his blade closer to Loki’s left eye. “You will show yourself right now or -“

Gathering his magic tightly around him (focus!), Loki pushes back, hard.

With a surge of energy, their bodies are separated, and the other version of him lands heavily in the middle of the road some meters away.

Both of them are on their feet with the fluid movements of two panthers ready to pounce, the other now in full armor.

He has to leave, right now, even if means leaving her which is a catastrophe that might either kill him or make him try to kill his other self if he stays here another minute.

This timeline is clearly not his own.

It cannot be.

Arm outstretched to ward off his furious twin with a shield of magic, he tries to work the tempad with one hand.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

A booming voice above their heads.

“You know, when Jane pressed the panic button just now, I thought we had an actual emergency. Not that you were preparing a little dinner show for us, Reindeer Games. Gotta be honest though, this doppelgänger stunt was never my favorite -“

“Stark!”

The variant - for he must be a variant - angrily interrupts the man in the metal suit hovering in the air.

Of course, Loki remembers him all too clearly.

What has it been, less than a week since he threw him, or a version of him, out the window of the glass tower?

“This is not my creation”, the variant hisses with venom dripping from every word. “I caught him assaulting Jane. Kissing her”.

“What?!”

Stark focuses all his attention (and one of his iron fists) on Loki. A metallic humming rises steadily from inside the suit.

“A man on a suicide mission then. Boy, did you smooch the wrong wizard’s baby-mama. He may look all domesticated and cute now, but I assure you he’s still all kinds of crazy. In fact-”.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I know it’s asking a lot, of you in particular, Stark, but could we possibly save the personal insults till we have dealt with this right here?”

Wait, just wait.

Damn it, he can’t tap in the destination on the tempad without looking at it.

Green smoke is swirling around the hands of his other self. He knows what’s coming.

“This is your last warning, devil! I will not have you hiding behind my face as I -“

“This is my face! I’m you, you fool! Bigger things are at large here and-“ Loki falters, his silver tongue failing once more with rising predictability within what seems a disconcertingly short period of time.

Although he honestly can’t tell anymore.

“Please, take a minute -“

He can’t help but shout, sounding hopelessly desperate.

In another life, he might have felt humiliated, but letting pride dictate his emotions is no longer a luxury he can afford to indulge.

Still, the silence that follows his outburst is not nearly as long as he needs it to be.

The variant stares blankly at him, mouth slightly ajar, but Stark recovers easily, his voice now icy.

“Yeah, dude, that one might have worked better if you’d put on a clean shirt. Time to fess up real quick or we’ll have to-“

Drawing what might become his last breath, Loki looks away and down at the tempad. He presses the button. No more time to double check.

“What the?!”

Both Stark and the variant visibly flinch as the door appears.

He quickly makes for it. “I - I’m sorry. Truly, I am”. He looks to their stunned faces before turning to his exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registers the variant move (he has to be a variant). His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and two familiar daggers are appearing by his sides.

Before the door snaps completely shut, Loki sees Jane run up to the man and grab his arm.

“Love, no, don’t!”

He sees the slight bump under her dress that he didn’t notice before.

And then the scene disappears and he’s gone.

Part III

[love-hatred-stuff]

Villain's girl } Im Changkyun [monsta x]

genre: royal/soldier au, vampire au

warning(s): mentions of war(indirect), kind of kidnapping

word count: 1.9k

He, he was perfect, but I just wasn't ready to get involved with him.

I knew I would regret it because we needed each other. But he just hurt me too much. No, actually I really didn't care about myself. Still, I ran away from him again, probably the most unnecessary decision of my life. The only thing that stood in my way was my fear of the gilding of his life. I simply wasn't worth it, was I?

before:...

I was lying on a green meadow that was on a mountain. Hundreds of Lisianthus flowers had grown next to me. I loved them, their scent, their colors and also their sizes. They had a calm effect on me because I had known them since my short childhood.

I've been looking after myself since I was ten years old. My parents? Probably dead. They had left me for a reason unknown to me, but I hadn't thought about it for a long time, because it had racked my mind for the next thirteen years after they disappeared.

Now I was lying here and as far as I knew it was my birthday that day. I couldn't exactly remember that date, but I had celebrated it over and over again on the same day for a long time.

It wasn't a big deal to me as it wouldn't change anything in my life but I was finally eighteen.

The sun had just started to rise, but I wanted to start the day like this, with a quiet hour on my favorite meadow in the morning sun that smiled at me. Unfortunately she was the only one who did that.

Often times I would lie there all night and watch the stars. I was more than lonely, for many years I hadn't met anyone except soldiers who attacked and burned villages, as well as my house eight years ago.

I lost my parents, my house, my food and everything else I owned. Even if it wasn't much, my already small property shrunk even more. But I had to take it for what I was, what I was trying to do.

Despite my health, which had kept up well, I had thoughts of suicide several times. Jumping off a cliff is, eating any branches and herbs. And after a few temptations, I gave up. I couldn't do that to myself yet.

As slowly as possible, I got up to look for something to eat. I didn't really liked to go hunting because I was very fond of animals and hated to hurt them, so I mostly ate berries or mushrooms.

Except once a week, I took my bow with arrow to get me a hearty meal.

When I finally got up on my two legs, I ran and went to my hut, which I had built a long time ago from branches and bushes.

I was there in no time, but something bothered me. Everything was still in its place, but I could make out a musty smell of smoke, which made me cringe.

I looked around silently and indeed, about half a mile away, a huge gray cloud was making its way through the trees.

My heart pounded alarm and without thinking twice, I sprinted in the opposite direction from which the possible fire was coming.

At the moment I didn't care about my growling stomach, nor my hut.

After a while of running I could hear voices in the direction I was walking towards.

I slowly walked slowly in order to be able to listen to every sound, no matter how small. But suddenly a soldier was standing in front of me who looked at me with a grin. I was wearing only a thin, white, yet dirty dress that hung airily up to my knees.

Uncomfortable, that's how I felt. I had never had closer contact with men, how could I (?).

"Well, who do we have here?" The soldier mockingly said.

I just widened my eyes, not to mention my mouth, which had been open since I saw him.

After a short time, more and more soldiers came and looked at me, but I was frozen. People were so fascinating but at the same time so nauseating. The soldier, who was still grinning stupidly at me, stepped closer and grabbed my hand.

"The little one must have forgotten how to speak. But she is breathtakingly beautiful. Take a look at her, guys!" He asked his men to examine me too, which is why they all took a few steps closer.

"Hey!" I heard it from not far away, in the woods.

The one whose voice it was now also ran towards me, which made me take some steps back.

"Don't touch her! She's an innocent one!" The soldier who was now standing in my immediate vicinity.

Fortunately for me, he now attracted the attention that had been on me. He pushed the others away from me, who then stumbled backwards. Then he grabbed my wrist and I felt a heat rise in me instantly, it was a completely new feeling.

I looked into a prominent face with defined cheekbones, which made him look very masculine to me. He looked like someone that could be royal, naturally beautiful.

He looked at me out of his intense brown eyes in which I could have lost myself in, in a matter of seconds.

He raised his hand, pushed a strand of hair out of my face and touched my cheek in the process. All I could do was to stay still like a statue and admire his figure.

His dark black hair that was a little messed up and some strands also graced his face.

A cold but pleasant shiver ran down my spine from his touch. I was fascinated by his looks, it seemed like he looked like a friendly devil. Although his features seemed absolutely flawless, he radiated a dark aura. I couldn't see it but I could sense it. He also had broad shoulders from which two muscular arms protruded. He was looking like a God next to me.

"She really is quite acceptable. Nevertheless, she has to come with me." He pulled me by the arm to the horses, which were not far away at a campsite.

Damn. I should have run faster, now I have to go with them if I don't get a chance to get out of here. I blamed myself silently.

The men were in the majority and clearly superior to me.

The Soldier's grin was quite strong and even when we were already in one of the tents, he was still holding onto my arm tightly. After we I hissed in pain.

Besides all that, I was still totally in shock as it was my first close contact with people in many years.

Suddenly he stopped and took a close look at my body, me not really thinking anything, because I first had to get used to people's behavior and body language.

With his gaze he stopped where he had gripped me tightly to probably prevent me from running away, but slowly the pressure got too big and hurt. Immediately he let go, but he took a closer look at the now yellow spots that adorned my arm.

They weren't the only wounds I had, I kept getting injured and accordingly had blood wounds or scratches all over the place. We were alone in the tent and he finally broke the silence.

"Who did this to you?" He asked, pointing to my wounds, like the blood stain on my dress, over my stomach. At first I didn't know what he meant but then I understood. He meant if I had been hurt by someone else.

"Nobody." I answered clearly and looked up into his wonderful eyes that flashed at me.

"What's your name?" Was his next question.

"Y/n. I think." I guessed to myself.

My name had never been relevant, but I still had vague memories from my childhood and how I was often addressed by that name back then. In the other moment, his gaze softened. He put a strand behind my ear again, as he had earlier. My attention went to his full lips which he twisted into a small grin.

“You are beautiful, Y/n. You will be mine I promise it. Nobody's going to get you." He said with determination.

What did he say? Was that just a compliment? If so, then they sound really nice, but actually I didn't really know what they meant to me. Although I could speak his language fluently and had a good vocabulary to choose from, I wasn't up to date.

"What do you mean?" I was taught to ask when you didn't understand someone, so I did just that.

"Means that we will take you to the palace where you can be sold." He suddenly changed his face and removed his hand from my cheek where it had lingered for a moment.

He had just changed his mind from one second to the other. He wanted me to be his and complimented me, so what now? Now he just wanted to drag me along and let me get sold? Great, I probably wouldn't find a way out on all these soldiers.

"But, to whom should I be sold?" If it was to my advantage I would accept it, then I would no longer be alone and would finally be among people who were equal to me.

"To some rich snob." He simply replied.

I was surprised at his sudden change of heart, but it was the chance for me to finally escape this hole. It had made me sink deeper and deeper until that point. I was redeemed.

"You have to change. We'll stay here one more night before we leave." He stepped away from me and took a white dress down from a kind of drawer, to give it to me afterwards.

A little baffled, I stood there and took the soft fabric towards me. It was soft and embroidered with small flowers.

"Thanks, where should I change and where should I sleep?" I asked briefly.

"Change here. There's a bed back there, behind the curtain. You will sleep with me, I don’t want you to run away." He answered less summarily.

Only after a short moment I could understand what he wanted from me. He was still standing right in front of my feet and looking down at me.

"So I'm supposed to change here and now?" I asked with disbelief in my voice.

"Yes, you should." He persisted.

I suspected he wouldn't give in, so I told him to at least turn around. Then he innocently raised his hands to shoulder height and obeyed my request. When he let his hands fall again, I pushed my dirty dress off my body, which meant that I stood in front of him, completely bare for a moment. Fortunately, he was standing with his back turned to me. But even if not, I would probably have obeyed, because I didn't know whether I corresponded to the typical image of women and had never had unpleasant situations like this before. That's why I never had a reason to be ashamed of my body. But as I stood in front of him I realized how important it actually was to be able to see someone like that.

I quickly slipped into the fresh dress, which clung to my thin body and my delicate curves. It actually looked very pretty, but I could hardly judge it because I still had no taste for fashion.

"You can turn around." I wanted to point out, but my words got stuck in my throat when I noticed that he had already turned around.

I had focused on my dress the whole time and trusted it. Obviously this was a mistake.

-to be continued-

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 18 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Rus makes a decision.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning:  Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

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Read Chapter 18 on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Lilies were lovely flowers, and it was a damn shame that Humans seemed to only associate them with funerals and Easter. They made for a beautiful focal point in a bouquet, large waxy petals in a bright array of colors surrounding the dark stamen, dozens of them spilling out and around a vase or basket, brilliant shades complimented by a delicate frame of leafy greens.

So many gorgeous colors available and Blue grew many of them, but the lilies Rus was working with were white, only a hint of creamy yellow at their centers. They smelled nearly as beautiful as the crimson roses that joined them, each delicate bloom nestled into its cushioning bed of neighboring white.

(A single red rose, please)

Only Rus’s fingers were stained with redness, not from those velvety petals but from the thorns, the dark crimson of his own marrow spotting the lilies, smearing bloody across those pale petals and he couldn’t stop even as they began to wither under his touch, white petals spotted in redness curling up and dying, and—

Rus woke with a gasp, the cold sweat on his bones chilling him as the dream of withered petals slowly faded. He sank back against the mattress and ran a trembling hand over his face, grimacing at the dampness.

Next to him, his brother slept on obliviously, his smaller frame buried deeply in the luxurious comforter on their borrowed bed. The bathroom light was on, seeping out to cast the room in shadows and even in the dimness, Blue’s much-loved face was lined with obvious exhaustion. The crow’s wing of a bruise running down his cheekbone wasn’t quite hidden into the pillow, stark against pale bone.

Thoughtlessly, Rus reached out with the vague idea to heal it and hesitated with his fingers still inches from that bruise. Tired as Blue was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to sleep through any sort of magic being used on him. Better to let him rest and take care of it when he woke up, and if looking at it made his gorge rise with swelling guilt, then Rus only had himself to blame. This all might have started with him getting dragged in, but things had changed since that day in the shop when he had hidden behind the counter in a stranger’s arms.

That day was over and a new one was dawning, one where Rus complicit, for not listening to his brother’s warnings, for not keeping his distance, for letting his desire for Edge overrule his rather uncommon sense.

No, that wasn’t entirely true, at least one other person was at fault here, the one who’d caused that bruise. He wasn’t sure he believed Blue that their so-called host wasn’t to blame; even if he hadn’t struck the blow, he’d obviously failed to protect them as promised. Broken promises tended to multiply, that was a hard lesson Rus learned while they were still Underground.

Well, he certainly wasn’t lost in a metal fog any longer. He felt as if he were waking up from more than an unpleasant dream. His pleasure-tinted memories of last night in Edge’s bed had lost their luster the moment he got a good look at his brother’s bruised face and cold reality settled in its place, sinking down into the pit of his soul like cold water sinking to the ocean floor.

Somehow, he’d been slowly starting to forget the truth; that he and Blue were here unwillingly, staying only for protection against revenge that hadn’t been theirs to begin with. They were very bad men, Edge warned Rus of that from the very beginning, and Edge was still planning on dealing with Blaze however he would; someone would likely be dead and dust by the end, and Rus couldn’t allow himself to forget that, if only to ensure that neither he nor his brother were part of it.

Rus wrapped his arms around his legs, settling his chin on his updrawn knees. Where the hell did he think this was all going to go, anyway? When everything was said and done, and Blaze was dealt with, where did he fit in a place like this? He didn’t, that was how, did he really think he’d be able to finish up his shift at the shop making bouquets and then come back here to pretend he didn’t know what was happening around him, both inside and out of these walls. Even if Edge wanted him for longer than a few nights, Rus couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

His brother’s comment about getting paid well might have been cruel, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. Only it didn’t seem to be dollars that Rus was bartering with, but instead his own soul.

No. He couldn’t let that happen, not to Blue. His brother worked so hard for everything they had ever since their pop left. He wasn’t going to throw it away, not for a few minutes of pleasure, he couldn’t.

This would end eventually; they would go back to their home and their flower shop and leave all this madness behind, and though it made a fresh lump rise in his throat to think of it, Rus decided that he would tell all of this to Edge today. Whether it ended in pleading or demands didn’t matter, he was going to end whatever this was, could it even be called a relationship? All Edge knew about him was what he’d seen through a window. It was time to set aside this ridiculous fantasy, if not for himself then for his brother’s sake.

The sheets were still clinging to him clammily, sweat from his nightmare drying uncomfortably on his bones. Rus slipped carefully from the bed, snatching up his phone and using the flashlight to help him pick out fresh clothes from the closet.

It was still relatively early, only barely past six am, no wonder Blue was still sleeping. Normally, Rus would be as well, it was another hour before his time to groaningly drag himself out of bed and down to the shop for his daily shift. As tired as he was, the idea of crawling back in to lay on the damp sheets didn’t appeal much.

Instead, he went into the bathroom to change, this time in a pair of loose, flowing trousers with an oversized sweater layered over a plain button-up. It was a heck of a lot closer to something he’d find in his own closet, even if he could tell by the feel of the fabric that it was from some pricy department store and not the local thrift shop. He wondered idly if someone had actually gone shopping for these new clothes or if they’d simply ordered in like Chinese takeout. He had kind of a hard time picturing a delivery boy turning up at the back entrance of the club loaded down with bags of clothes instead of egg rolls. Whoever brought ‘em, he was reluctantly grateful for the quantity even as he shrank away at the thought of how long they might be intended to be there, and how could he stay away from Edge living directly down the hallway from him, how could he…?

Rus resolutely pushed that thought aside, splashing cool water on his face and patting it dry. It was a good thing their closet was filled, he told himself, ‘cause the clothes he’d worn yesterday were downstairs in the stripper’s dressing room, probably never to be seen again.

That thought made him cast a guilty look at the clothes he’d worn up here, the ones loaned to him by Mona for her brief tutorial on dancing. They were lying in a careless pile leftover from last night’s shower and he bit the tip of his tongue worriedly. Maybe Mona would need them back, someone had to. He could ask the Dogs to bring them to her with a note of thanks…or he could take them himself and let her know that he was all right.

Plus, it’d be a chance to give her some proper gratitude for trying to help out. Sure, it hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped, really not, but that wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t have the first idea how the story ended last night. Seemed like she should at least get to know Rus probably wasn’t gonna end up with cement shoes or anything, but this time, if he was going downstairs, he’d do it properly and walk.

Decision made, Rus gathered up the clothes, folding them into a tidy bundle. They were rumpled and stank richly of sweat and sex. He blushed to think of returning them that way, but he couldn’t lie, it felt less embarrassing to bring them back to Mona than to leave it for the Dogs to find on laundry day. Worst that could happen with her was it would confirm some suspicions she already had.

He carried the bundle out of the bathroom with him, hesitating as he glanced at the bed and the lump in the covers that was his sleeping brother. This time there wouldn’t be any slipping off without a word, no more secrets, not if he could help it. He paused at the little table by the door to write his brother a note, his scribbly handwriting stating clearly that he was returning something downstairs and he’d be back soon.

That was one thing done right, at least.

That done, he slipped out the door to the hallway, closing the door hastily before the light could wake his brother. As expected, there was a Dog standing guard outside and it turned to him questioningly, its headed tilting to one side.

“excuse me, can you take me downstairs to speak with the ladies?” Rus said. Firm yet polite seemed like the best route and he held up the bundle in his arms. “i have some stuff to take back to them.” He really hoped they didn’t offer to just take it for him and not just because there was no way a Dog wouldn’t pick up on the reek. He was gonna talk to Mona one way or another, flimsy excuse or not.

The Dog said nothing, and Rus still wasn’t quite sure if that was a choice, an order, or simply a physical impossibility. It seemed to consider, then pulled out a cell phone, unhindered by its paws as it briskly tapped out a message. Whatever reply they received, they nodded and led the way down the hall to the elevator, the same one Edge brought him upstairs in, hey, he was starting to get the hang of this place.

Once the doors open again, Rus took the lead, heading to the dressing room from last night. The Dog waited at the entrance as he slipped inside, clothes in hand.

It was mostly empty now, none of the bustling and hurried dressing of the night before. The only stripper in the room was the Cat Monster…Lilith, that was her name, and her clothing was a stark contrast to their first meeting. Her revealing slip of a dress was exchanged for simple jeans and a t-shirt with ‘Bad Girl’ written in sparkly letters across the chest. She was tying the laces on her sneakers, glancing up and then again in a doubletake as she caught sight of him.

She gave him a sultry smile, pink tongue curling over her lips. “Well, hey there, sugar skull, stopping in for another visit or are you hiding out again?”

“no, um,” Rus said, awkwardly. He held up the bundle. “mona loaned me some clothes, i was just bringing them back.”

“Oh, is that all?” she yawned, showing sharp teeth, “Night shift is over, hun, Mona’s gone for the day.” She tilted her head in the direction of a large bin that was already overflowing with clothes, bra straps and stockings hanging over the sides. “You can toss it in the pile, they’ll get take care of.”

Rus wavered, torn, then decided he didn’t need to keep them as an excuse to visit with Mona. A lack of one hadn’t stopped him yet. He tossed the bundle in the pile and started back out to the hallway, then hesitated to ask, “do you know when mona will be back?”

Maybe if she worked tonight, he could slip down to see her before she started for the night.

“Sorry, hun, schedules change. If you want to wait, I can check after I get a smoke. I’m dying for a cig.” She held up a pack of cigarettes and against his will, his gaze strayed to it longingly. He hadn’t had one in days now and his nicotine craving lifted its ugly, eager head, starting a painful itch in his marrow. Damn, he hadn’t even checked his backpack when the Dog gave it to him and didn’t remember if he had a pack of smokes in it. He sure wasn’t about to ask Edge or, angel forbid, Red for one. It might be days yet before he got out to buy a pack himself.

Lilith gave him a knowing look. “Want one, sweetheart? You got that kind of look.”

The sudden flood of saliva in his mouth was embarrassing, but eh, the rules were a little different for smokers, nothing wrong with bumming the occasional cigarette so long as it didn’t become another habit, a worse one than smoking itself.

“i…yes,” Rus said gratefully, “if you don’t mind?”

“Nah, c’mon, I can share.”

She turned and walked towards the back of the room, her slender tail curling around her feet and Rus followed her to heavy door with a bright ‘Exit’ sign gleaming over it in neon red.

“I’d get a smack on the hand if they caught me sneaking out this way,” Lilith confided. Her whiskers quivered as she wrinkled her little muzzle. “But I can’t stand walking all the way ‘round for a quick smoke. I get enough exercise on the pole, you know?”

He didn’t, but he could certainly guess. He followed Lilith outside into an alleyway lined with trash cans, the sky overhead tinged grey with the coming dawn. She shook out one for herself and lit it before handed over the pack, and the first hit of nicotine melded into his magic with deep, mellow relief. Talking didn’t seem necessary, Lilith only played on her phone while both of them smoked silently through their cigarettes and when Lilith was done, she tossed her butt to pavement already littered with dozens more and shook out another before handing the pack back to him.

“May as well have another, honey,” she said, and he really shouldn’t, he had enough debt as it was, and what was that look she was giving him, something like regret…?

There was a sudden stinging at the back of his neck, coupled with hot breath, whispering low in flame-speak. “Yes, do have another. It might well be your last.”

The still smoldering butt fell from his nerveless fingers, falling into a puddle with a hiss, the dizziness already swarming over him distancing him from both his senses and his magic. He whirled clumsily around to see a fire Monster standing behind him, as tall as he was and nearly as broad as Red. The hectic flutter of his purplish flames cast the alley in disturbing shadows, devils dancing to their deaths in the slowly growing sunlight.

Blaze.

Rus took a stumbling step back, fumbling at the door, but there was no handle on the outside, only smooth metal. He looked at Lilith disbelievingly, slurring out, “wha…why?”

Tears were streaming down her pretty face, soaking into the short fur. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. He was offering money, so much money, you don’t understand what it’s like here—”

He didn’t hear whatever else she said as he was suddenly seized, pushed back against the rough bricks of the alley wall. Those deep purple flames managed to be somehow both dark and blinding, Rus squinting against that painful light, cringing away.

“don’t—” Rus stuttered out. But his hands were disobedient and strengthless, pushing helplessly against Blaze’s shirt as he stepped closer, his surprisingly heavy body pinning him against the wall. His face was too close, burning fingers painfully pinching his chin and forced Rus to lift his head, the smoky ash of his breath gusting over Rus’s face.

“Perhaps I judged too quickly on Edge’s tastes. You are rather a pretty thing, after all.”

Rus cried out, the sound muffled, choking as his mouth was taken in a rough kiss, the pained heat of flaming tongue forcing its way between his teeth. He didn’t think, could hardly manage a single idea past no. He bit down automatically, choking again as his mouth filled with bitterness reminiscent of gasoline.

He nearly fell as he was released, gasping for breath, and he only barely managed to open his sockets enough to see the blow before it struck, his vision exploding into whiteness as Blaze backhanded him and sent him to his knees amidst the filthy puddles and the rotting old cigarette butts.

Dazed, he could only watch as Lilith grabbed hold of Blaze’s arm as it rose again. “Stop it! You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“So I did,” Blaze said, and someone Rus couldn’t see was translating in a gleeful drawl, “You should have secured the same promise for yourself.”

A deafening sound rang through the alley and Rus stared dumbly as a bright blossom of red appeared on Lilith’s shirt, splatters of crimson stark against her white fur like winter berries in a snow bed. She looked down at herself in confused disbelief, touching that awful wound with trembling fingers and smearing that stain across her shirt as she slowly collapsed to the ground. Filthy water splashed, more redness tainting the puddle in a slowly spreading pool as she stared sightlessly up at the rising sun.

In that moment Rus found his voice, managing to croak out something like a hoarse scream before a rough hand slapped over his mouth, the brutal grip painful on his jaw.

“Come on, put him in the backseat. I’ll see if I can keep our guest entertained for the trip.”

He was dragged over to a waiting car, shoes scraping the pavement uselessly, barely noticing the leather seats beneath him. A door slammed and hot hands hauled him upright until he was sprawled awkwardly across an uncomfortable lap, a scorching mouth licking a painful path up his cervical vertebrae. Fingertips plucked threateningly at his clothes, but didn’t wander beneath them, and that only made Rus shudder helplessly, dizzily nauseous and numbly clouded in rising fear over what was to come.

edge. help me. It was hardly more than a distant, uncertain thought, the words never making it to his slack mouth.

tbc

[lordoftermites]

Fairy Chess ‖ p. ⅰ

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you...

Ship: Roiben x Kaye

Summary: {set immediately after Ironside} Kaye provides Roiben with a little more... entertainment at his coronation revel.

Rating: M/E for me going to hell but hey at least i’ve got reading material Part Ⅱ

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He wanted only one night.

One night, devoid of drunken courtiers. Of the endless pouring of wine. No constant strumming of lutes and harps and laughter echoing through the cavernous hall, no attendants bidding for a moment of his attention with some new seemingly-urgent dispatch. Just a single, fleeting night of glorious, undisturbed peace.

But when you're a king of two courts, both of which would see the other fall to ruin, peace is a knife's edge; a balancing act—not a reward. And no amount of wishing is going to change that.

Still, as Roiben leans back into the twisted branches of birch that make up his blood-won throne, watching the frenzied, continuous dancing, he finds himself hopelessly wishful anyway.

Before the dais, a mass of fey move almost as one enormous wave to the music, their entranced twirling and swaying both beautiful and nauseating. They have all come to celebrate the second crowning of their brutal new lord.

Groups of sprites whirl their little forms above the throng, bathing the packed earth of the newly-rebuilt Palace of Termites in flickering yellow light. Roiben decides he likes looking at them better—their movements don't make his stomach quite nearly as unsteady.

But even then, the way they blink in and out, reminiscent of fireflies in the trees at dusk, causes him to squint himself into the headache he's been suppressing all evening. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, sinking further into the throne that feels so much more like a cage; a cage he killed his way to get into.

“Acorn for your thoughts,” chimes Kaye’s voice against his ear. He smiles, eyes still closed, as he feels the familiar, comforting brush of her fingers slide over his shoulder. Roiben reaches a hand up to cover them, to ground himself in her touch. Her skin is warm— a constant contrast to the chill he can never seem to thaw from his own. “I find I have had my fill of revelry, for the next ten moons at least,” Roiben answers with another sigh. His eyes open to the overcrowded throne room once again, and that weariness washes over him anew. “Unfortunately, it would seem this one has no intentions of slowing anytime before that.” Kaye moves from her position behind him, slipping between his throne to the wooden stool beside it.

Roiben shifts his gaze to look at her, and cannot stop his breath from catching: she’s clad in a fluid, iridescent dress coming to tattered strips just above her clover green knees. Pewter ties gather slashed sleeves at her shoulders, the front of it dipping below her collarbone to pool at the beginning of her sternum. He smiles again: the sheen of fabric is the exact silver of his eyes.

Her wild hair is pulled up into two emerald knots on top of her head—space buns, she called them once, much to his confusion; they resemble neither celestial body nor baked good, but he assumes it’s simply another human reference lost on him. At the roots, she’s dusted a silver glitter that catches the light of the sprites above them. Silver hoops line the length of her earlobe, and from each dangle a single star or crescent moon, respectively. On her feet, to no surprise, are the cracked leather boots she favors above any slipper made by Skillywidden, no matter how intricately stitched or comfortable they might be.

Roiben can’t help but marvel at her: a creature of two worlds, and equally as beautiful in both. He reaches out to take her hand, brushing over the extra joint in her thumb. She smiles at him, the smile that’s just for him, the smile he would burn the world down for.

“I’ve been to some pretty wild raves,” Kaye says, turning her inky black eyes to the sea of Folk before them. “But this one definitely takes the cake.” Again, another human phrase he doesn’t quite understand, but this one makes at least more sense than astronomical hairstyles. When she looks back at him, her brow raises. “It's your coronation revel, and you’re already partied out? I thought dancing till your feet bleed was just another day in Faerie for you.”

He chuckles, eyes settling on her hand in his. He’s almost sure his stomach will betray him if he dares another glance at the swirling revel-goers. “My… previous duties kept me elsewise occupied from most of the festivities,” he replies. To his great relief, neither of them need his explanation of what those duties had been. “When the guest of honor is you, it’s not nearly as easy to slip away unnoticed.”

Kaye leans over to take a fluted glass of wine from the table between them, and Roiben can’t help his gaze shifting up to the loose fabric at her chest, which opens at her slight movement to reveal a hint of the deep green curvature there. He swallows automatically, his throat suddenly dry.

“Like the view?” Kaye asks, leaning against her own arm to further accentuate that curve as she takes a sip of the plum-colored liquor. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough to make Roiben’s breath catch. When his eyes flick back up to meet her, she’s wearing that coquettish grin that speaks true to her pixie nature. “Though doubtless you already know my answer," he says, giving her an impish smirk of his own, "Verily, I do.”

Kaye shortens the gap between them, near enough for him to smell the clove and blackberry wine on her warm breath. Near enough to kiss him, but she doesn’t. She lingers, instead pulling her bottom lip between her teeth—a move she knows all too well sets a fire alight in his veins, and it’s all Roiben can do not to close that gap between them entirely.

Her hand reaches to the collar of his doublet, where she trails a lazy finger along the silver stitching, brushing feather-light against his neck. He inhales slowly, a deliberate drawing of breath, as though to remind himself where they are. Again, he finds himself wishing the hall was empty and cursing the reality that it isn't.

Kaye pitches her voice low, so only he can hear among the raucous around them. “I think I know how to make this party a little more… interesting. A game. Kinda.”

His brow goes up at that. “A game?” he repeats, only slightly warily. While admittedly, any diversion to keep him from spoiling his own revel would be welcome—by his attendants as well as himself—he’s almost certain, from the mischievous glint in those sable eyes of hers, it isn’t likely to be something as simple as a chess match.

Kaye shrugs. Her gaze drifts down the front of his black doublet to his lap, lingering there momentarily before fluttering back up to his face. There's a craving there in those onyx depth. A shark circling its next meal.

“Unless, of course, you’re too chicken to play.”

Indeed, this will be no game on a checkerboard.

Roiben shifts in his seat, already finding himself full awake from his previously half-present participation in the night’s celebrations. He leans in, until his mouth is against Kaye’s silver-clad ear and grins at the small, sudden breath she takes in response. “If you mean to play a game of torment,” he whispers, his lips grazing her skin, “you may find I am not at all a fair opponent—nor a patient one—when I mean to win.”

Kaye, cheeks flushed with drink and something else, opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off. From below the dais, as if on cue, a throat clears. Roiben, gritting his teeth against a sudden rise of annoyance, draws himself back up on his throne. Bowed to nearly kissing the earthen floor is Ruddles, his chamberlain.

“Yes?” Roiben sighs, unable to hide his displeasure at being interrupted; he was, for the first time tonight, on the verge of actually enjoying his own celebration. Of course there would be something to stall that entertainment. “What is it now, a ninth round of toasting? More petitions? Perhaps a naming of yet another inanimate object?”

The old hob rises with a grunting effort, either unaware of Roiben’s clipped tone, or so used to it by now that he doesn’t let it perturb him. “My King,” Ruddles says formally, and even though the title has been invoked countless times since his first crowning, Roiben still can’t quell the sour taste that floods his mouth upon hearing it.

The chamberlain continues, again oblivious to the ticking in his master’s jaw. “Since it is nearly dawn, I thought perhaps you would wish to retire.” Ruddles turns to sweep his hand over the continuous movement of courtiers. “There are naught but a few simple matters of the court that myself and the other members of the council can handle in your stead—or save upon your return, should so desire."

Desire is the very thing being kept from him at the moment, though it isn't as if his chamberlain knows that. Still, Roiben can barely stifle an eye roll. "I was unaware that I needed permission to—"

The gentle squeeze of Kaye's hand on his arm stalls his scorn, and he forces himself to start over. "Apologies, Ruddles," he sighs. "I admit, I am overtired. I should indeed very much like to rise from this seat—before I become part of its ornamentation." Roiben stands, tired limbs groaning in protest from hours of being stationary.

Kaye stretches at his side, feigning a yawn. "I could totally kill for a bed right now," she says, and while she is also bound incapable of lying, the look in her eye when Roiben meets her gaze tells him there is nothing to do with sleep in her confession. The wink she gives solidifies her meaning.

The little hob nods, seeming to miss their unspoken exchange, and bows low once more. "As you wish, my King. I shall address the court of your retirement—"

Roiben shakes his head to forestall the chamberlain, and holds a hooked arm out for Kaye, who takes it with another squeeze. "No need. They are blissfully unaware of my presence as it is, let them continue. And, Ruddles—" He pauses at the foot of the dais next to the hob, leaning low enough to not be overheard. "It would please me greatly if you saw to it that we are undisturbed."

Ruddles gives a reverent nod and steps aside, clearing their way off the platform. Without stealing another glance back at the endless revel, the king and his consort leave the tumultuous celebration behind them.