#source: the-pale-servant

[writingjourney]

Closer to the Gods || Alicent

Years into her marriage Queen Alicent permits only you to share in the more intimate parts of her routine. Despite the deep bond that connects you to Her Grace you are not certain that your feelings are returned – until she shows you.

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x lady-in-waiting!reader

Content: 3.1k words, repressed feelings, yearning, religious guilt, somewhat post-partum alicent, no y/n, smut (wlw, thigh riding, body worship, oral, v fingering, gentle smut), 18+ MDNI

Masterlist – Ao3 link

Her hair smells like citrus. The fragrance, enhanced by the steam of the hot water rising from the surface of her bath, mingles with the one of the perfumed oils that slick your hands as you weave them through her tresses. The scent makes you light-headed, as does the sight of her bare skin above the water. Her Grace sighs deeply when you massage her scalp, leaning into your touch with all the weariness she carries. You breathe her in, subtly, applying some pressure to her temples where you know her headaches to linger.

Born into a lesser house you were sent to be raised at court at a young age, a token of loyalty after the coronation of King Viserys. However, life at court changed after the death of his first wife and as a lady-in-waiting you soon became the new queen’s favourite. Ever since the birth of her first son she keeps you closer than any of the other ladies, allows you to take on the more intimate chores such as dressing and undressing her, brushing and washing her hair, keeping her company during the late hours of the day, singing and more often than not reading to her. Two years into her marriage now the queen will allow only you to take care of her in such a way and send away her servants once the more menial tasks such as filling the tub have been completed.

By now you know her whims and preferences better than your own. You feel an intimate affection for her Her Grace and it translates into the gentleness with which you touch her. Most evenings it is only you and her – unless the king requests her presence. Those nights you spend thinking of her in her soft white nightdress with her auburn hair falling in waves over her pale breasts underneath. You try to distract yourself from the thoughts of him touching her smooth skin, lacking the gentleness you know she desires. No one else but you is allowed to see her in any state of undress, let alone touch her. But he simply takes what he wants, what he thinks he is owed by right of being her husband. By right of being the king. Would that you could give her what he does, but you can never sire a son, you could never be anything but what you are now.

In front of the fire with your hands covered in scented oils you feel a shameful heat rising to your face, the immoral thoughts of replacing her husband a constant source of guilt. Rinsing her hair, you finish your routine. The water has cooled down and you know Her Grace will want to retire soon. During these moments she prefers solitude, as she told you once, dedicating herself to prayer or silent contemplation.

“I will have the servants remove the tub.” You absent yourself from her side, drying your hands on a piece of cloth. “If that would be all, Your Grace, I shall retire for the night.”

You are already turned around, placing her nightdress on the nearby table. Your hand traces the delicate ornaments of Myrish lace when her voice reaches you again. “Wait.”

You hear Her Grace stepping out of the tub and keep your gaze lowered respectfully. Once her robe is fastened around her narrow waist you dare look up again. She approaches you on bare feet, drops of water glistening on her skin like morning dew on the petals of a soft pink rose.

A damp thumb comes to swipe along your cheekbone as she considers you, soft eyes roaming your face. “You look lovely with your cheeks flushed.”

Her lip trembles as she says it, as though the confidence she displays is nothing but an act. Your queen has complimented you many times before but never in a such a way that you feel her words caressing your very soul. For a moment you are quite out of breath.

Her fingers dance along your collarbones then, toying with the seams of your dress. “I do not know why you should be allowed to see me and yet I am deprived of the same pleasure.”

“My queen, I do not know–”

Her face falls as she misreads your words for rejection. You catch her hand before she manages to tear it away and press it to your heart instead. Looking down you see that she must have been biting her nails again, her skin red and scabbed where she pulled at it.

“What I mean is…” You feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, the sting of insecurity and hesitation. “I am not much to look at. Not compared to Your Grace.”

She shakes her head, dismissing your words. “Call me Alicent.”

“I would not–”

“Please, for once let us not hide behind curtesies. I have grown tired of it, I have grown tired of you leaving when I want you the most.”

Her words claw their way underneath your skin, your heart racing at the implicit confession. You always thought your feelings to be unreciprocated, that Her Grace merely considers you a companion, perhaps a friend. But her eyes are wet with unshed tears, her hand pressing against your aching chest as though she is trying to reach inside.

“You would truly want me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“Every night you leave,” she says and it sounds like an accusation, laced with pain and longing.

“But Your Grace, you wished it so– I did not–”

“I know,” she interrupts. “I know.”

Her other hand moves to cradle your cheek, wiping a stray tear from your skin. She looks away for but a moment, as if to collect her thoughts, and when your eyes meet again her gaze is fierce, determined.

“I have tried to repress my feelings,” she says, her lips trembling again. “But I cannot stop– I cannot stop thinking about you. When you are not here I have to restrain myself not to call for you. I have to fight off the urge to run to your chambers to be near you. I am… so tired of pretending.”

You lean into her touch, closing the gap between you to rest your forehead against hers. “So am I, Alicent. So, so tired.”

“It is sin,” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours, her fingers ghosting over your lips. “To covet another, to covet–” Her words trail off, the thought left unspoken. “And yet I never feel closer to the Gods than when you touch me.”

Your queen swallows the air between you when she presses her lips to yours. Tentative and searching her mouth moves against yours with a softness that almost pains you. She tastes like sweet wine, smells of lavender and citrus. Unsure where to touch her you mirror her movements, stroking along her warm cheekbone, tracing the line of her jaw down to her neck where a few droplets of water have gathered. Your other hand still holds hers against your chest but then she slides it upwards to grasp your throat and you gasp into her mouth, warmth pooling into your belly. Her tongue grazes yours and she winds her fingers around the curve of your neck until they press against your spine and she can pull you in closer, lips firm and bruising.

You can feel her body through the garments between you, soft and pliable. She deepens the kiss and you get dizzy, your head spinning at the taste of her. The sensation is new, thrilling and addictive. When you break away she glances down at your dress and you make to untie it, glad to have chosen one that is not quite so hard to take off.

In your shift, you feel well-nigh naked. The cool sea air has goosebumps spreading all over your body, a breeze streaming in through the wide windows that overlook Blackwater Bay. Alicent takes you in, her eyes following her hand that drags the neckline of the sheer fabric down your shoulder until her fingers dance across your bare skin. The loose undergarment falls once it slips from your arm and you are fully bared to her. Instinctively, you cross your arms in front of your chest but she soon takes your wrists to pull them down.

“You are beautiful,” she whispers. “Do not hide from me. I have longed to see you as I have felt seen by you for a long time. Let there be nothing between us from now on.”

You nod and she unties the robe around her waist and lets it fall from her shoulders, silky fabric pooling at her feet in iridescent waves. Even though you have seen her bare many times before this time feels different. You do not have to hide your admiration, do not have to worry that she might catch you staring. Instead you allow yourself to revel in the sight of her, a body that has never truly been her own, changed from the months she carried her child, from the way she lent it to the king so he might have his son at last. Even though she does not look much changed when she is wrapped in her beautiful gowns you are witness to the subtle changes she wears underneath, the lines that run across her abdomen where her skin used to be stretched, her hips fuller and her breasts hanging lower than they used to.

To you, she is even more beautiful than ever before.

“May I kiss you?” she asks. The answer is a desperate nod.

She is more bold this time, even if you still hesitate, still wonder how you can ever touch her freely when she is your queen, when she can never truly be yours. The apprehension soon dissipates when you get drunk on the taste of her, of the feel of her soft curves following the shape of your own when she pulls you close. Her nipples brush yours and you moan wantonly, craving her so much that the feeling is akin to physical pain. Your whole body is burning, melting, your blood hot and heavy as it gathers between your legs.

You tentatively begin to run your hands over her body, following the line of her hips over her lower back, then up the ridges of her spine. She shivers underneath your fingertips, the same goosebumps that cover your body spreading across her still damp skin. As her tongue flattens against yours, her own hands curling firmly around your backside, you cannot hold back the desperate whimper that falls from your lips.

“I want you,” she whispers into your mouth. “I want all of you.”

“I am yours, Alicent,” you say. “I will always be yours.”

She breaks away and takes your hand to lead you over to her bed. Your lips are already swollen, your mind clouded by your need of her. She gently pushes you onto the soft mattress, expensive, silken fabrics welcoming you in her space. It feels too intimate, to be here, to lay where she lays. When she comes to rest on top of you it is like a vision from the Heavens, her slowly drying curls falling like a veil over your face until it is only you and her, breathing in tandem as the world around you blurs into nothingness.

Her mouth is hot when she kisses you and you meet her eagerly, pull her down until your bodies touch and you feel her weight on top of you. She moves her leg between yours, her thigh pressed against your core, and you whimper as the warmth of her touch spreads within you. A throbbing pain settles there and you cannot help but cant your hips to rub against her, soon grinding more feverishly as her tongue delves into your mouth. Alicent's hands roam your body but you hardly take note of each individual touch, so focused on the pleasure that builds inside of you.

"Please," you whisper, inching ever closer to a tipping point, your lungs struggling to inhale enough air.

Alicent looks down at you through heavy-lidded eyes, as though she wants to fully take in your reactions, helping you along as she presses her thigh firmer against your cunt, fingers teasing at your nipples. You gasp, forgetting to breathe as the pleasure tears through your body in hot tingling shudders. Alicent swallows your moans with her mouth, reaching between your legs now to feel your release, two fingers pressed against your wet core until they enter you easily. She carries you through your crest with slow rolls of her hand but soon the pressure builds again and you clench around her intrusion, unable to hold back.

When the rolling waves of pleasure finally subside, kisses turn slow and aimless and you take a moment to calm your racing heart. Alicent presses her lips to your face and neck with an ardent intensity while you hold her in your arms, fingers curled around her thigh. You can feel her arousal dripping against your fingertips and begin to stroke her there, revelling in the gasps she releases against your skin. The gentleness with which she touches you sends tears to your eyes, for what you are not quite certain. Perhaps it is the realization that you have never been loved like this, the fact that it is your queen, the woman you have been dreaming about for years, who holds such affections for you.

"Alicent," you say and she lifts her head to meet your gaze. "Please, I want to taste you."

At first she seems hesitant, almost like the young girl she used to be, uncertain whether your intentions are true. But after a moment she seems to come back to herself and remember who you are, her gaze softening, gaining confidence and trust. She settles on her back beside you, propped up by silken pillows with her skin glowing like embers, draped in the faint light of the fire and a dozen candles.

She is beautiful with her lips swollen by your kisses, her pale breasts exposed and hardened, a faint line of hair leading from her belly button to a thicker tuft at the apex of her thighs. You admire her for a moment, kneeling in front of her with your limbs still trembling in the aftermath of your pleasure. What love you held for her before this night has grown insurmountably and you believe with all your heart that this cannot be sin, that it cannot be wrong when it is nothing short of worship.

You gently spread her thighs, revealing her to you fully. Reverent kisses to the insides of her knees, down her thighs that feel so soft against your lips. She moans when you caress a particularly sensitive spot and the sound is like music, urging you to leave more kisses all over skin, following the lines on her abdomen up to her breasts. You take one into your mouth, sucking gently at her hardened nipple until it is pink and swollen. Alicent weaves her fingers through your hair, the other hand caressing your shoulder. Her hips buck, wanting for attention, and you finally succumb and settle at her core.

With your eyes locked on hers you leave a kiss on her mound. Alicent links her fingers with yours and presses your intertwined hands to her abdomen as if to ground herself. Her other hand brushes a stray curl from your forehead. You slowly press your mouth to her cunt, tongue dipping between her folds to taste her. She moans again, louder this time, and you continue to attend to her, dipping your tongue into her and kissing every part you can reach. You forget yourself after a moment, lost in the whimpers and gasps that fill your ears, her soft skin and sweet taste.

As her pleasure builds, Alicent's hand fully tangles in your hair and she pushes your face deeper against her, her other hand gripping yours so tight that you begin to feel a distant pain. You cannot help your own wanton moan, wanting to make her feel like she made you feel. As you focus on her pearl, applying gentle pressure to her most sensitive areas, you use your second hand to spread her folds and dip your finger into her entrance. When you meet no resistance you add a second one and begin to rub them back and forth inside of her. It does not take long until her hips stutter as she rolls them against your face, the music falling from her lips now muffled by her hand.

You can feel her release as though it is your own, her muscles clenching around your digits, her release wet on your tongue as her whole body shudders. You continue until she pushes your face away, looking up at you see chest rising and falling rapidly, her brow damp and lips parted. A sense of deep bliss settles inside of you at the realization that you made her feel such pleasure, that she allows you to see this intimate side of her that you are not sure anyone else has ever seen.

She releases your hand to brush her hair back and you sit back on your heels to clean your face, taking in the sight of her without shame this time. You are not sure you could leave her now, not sure if you could ever have enough of her, already feeling the need again to touch her, kiss her, worship her.

After a moment Alicent reaches out, her hand wrapping around your wrist before she pulls you toward her. Curling against her side you sigh at the softness of her body, hiding your face at her neck. She welcomes you, arms slung around you tightly as you notice her calming down more and more. You are exhausted, in a way, and yet you are not sure that the night will come to an end so soon. Her hand in your hair and the fingers trailing the curve of your breast remind you that she has not had enough of you either.

For the moment you are both content holding the other close. You breathe in the scents of her bath, listen to the slowing rhythm of her breath. Alicent trails gentle kisses along your brow, then her arms tighten around you and her mouth comes to rest by your ear.

"Promise you won't leave again."

You pull back, shifting to bring your mouth back to hers. “Promise you won’t make me.”

Thank you so much for reading! Kudos, comments, reblogs etc are as always much appreciated but most of all I hope you enjoyed the story ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3

[anastaaaaaaasia]

The First Queen

Aegon II Targaryen x niece!Reader

Previous chapter

Second Chapter

Mother always says that the princess should not leave her chambers after midnight. No, it’s not because you are a girl and defenseless in front of this world. Your brothers hear the same thing. Rhaenyra explained to the three of you that the castle is full of people with different thoughts and they are not always pure and noble. You didn't fully understand her words, but you hoped to make sense of her words at a later age.

Also, my mother always said in secret that girls should not rely on men in all matters. You weren't a damsel in distress, you have the blood of a dragon in you.

Therefore, when the master did not help you find the book with Helaena, you decided to find it yourself, under the cover of darkness, when the old grumpy warden was not around.

Now only the pale flicker of the moon and a lonely burning candle, which you hid prudently, illuminate your chambers. You tried your best not to fall asleep ahead of time, by the way, it wasn’t as difficult as you thought before. The Red Keep was crowded with guests, noble lords and ladies, knights from all over the Seven Kingdoms and servants always bustling about. So the constant sound of someone's footsteps, hoarse voices and muffled chuckles tore you out of sleep and drove away dreams for a week.

There really was a reason. The day after tomorrow will be Helaena’s seventh birthday and in her honor your grandfather organized a tournament. The holiday will last seven days and seven nights. The same week also included a holiday in honor of the mother, one of the seven. Knowing Queen Alicenta's religiosity, the entire royal family will take part in this. You have never been particularly religious, but if it is necessary, you will do it. Maybe it really was important to her.

Your relationship with the queen was simple. You interacted with all her children quite well. Together we attended classes with Septa, learned High Valyrian, and went to the dragon pit. Your eggs with Aemond never hatched. You handled it better than Aemond. Therefore, the prince began to skip dragon control lessons more often and paid more attention to sword control. Sometimes you would run away with him and even make him a pinky promise that he would teach you some exercises later.

The sudden noise of the passage opening brought you out of your thoughts. You turned towards the source of the noise and saw Aemond with a candelabra in his hands, standing in a secret passage. You accidentally found out about this when you were mindlessly poking at the ornaments on a carved cabinet. Now the passage seemed best suited for your little scam.

You threw your robe over your nightie and grabbed your own candle. Turning to Aemond, you smiled and told him “Good night” “Good night,” he replied and you involuntarily began to giggle, trying not to make too much noise. Otherwise, you won’t be able to explain to your guard why a six-year-old prince is in your room in the middle of the night.

You carefully walked down the aisles towards Helaena's room. Each of you had your own goal that you wanted to achieve that night. But they all led you to one place, the royal library. It turns out that books cannot be taken into the room. Absurd, you thought then. Who is the royal library for then, if not for the royal family?

Aemond wanted a book about the history of Westeros before the beginning of the Targaryen reign, which the maester did not give him, citing the prince's young age. He complained that the book was missing a page about Queen Nymeria and her fleet. It was brazenly torn out. “Barbarians,” you told him then, but remembered this idea as a plan B if something went wrong.

Helaena was looking for something about her insects, some rare butterflies. She wanted to see the drawings and make her own book, filling it with new notes and observations.

You, the organizer of this illegal raid, wanted to find a book about the language of flowers. Long ago, Septa said that every flower carries a sacred meaning. This memory flashed in your mind when you heard about the organized tournament. For almost two weeks you persuaded your mothers, Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent, to let you make wreaths. Favor to your knight. You were sure that someone would definitely ask for your favor. When persuasion did not work on your mothers, explaining the refusals by your young age. You have decided to choose a path that will definitely lead you to success. You went to King Viserys.

He listened to your request, even your argument, and laughed good-naturedly, saying that nothing in this world comes easy. You looked at each other with Helaena and mentally agreed that you would do anything to give your wreaths. Viserys asked for some help with a model of Old Valyria. He taught you how to carve the shapes and you added some details, truly enjoying your time with him. Your aunt made a small figurine of a butterfly and placed it on one of the temples, and with the help of an assistant, you cut out a horse with a knight and placed it on one of the streets of the model. You have received permission.

When a couple of days later you visited the king’s chambers again, you noticed that the figures remained in their places and smiled.

Now you and Aemond were approaching Helaena’s chambers. You carefully opened the secret passage and the girl ran into you with hugs. You hugged her back with one free arm.

“I thought you wouldn’t come already,” said Helaena. The poor princess walked around the room in circles to drive away sleep.

“But now we are here,” said Aemond and hugged his sister too

The three of you walked down the halls towards the library. It was a dark, dusty room, spiders weaved their webs in the corners of the walls, but quickly ran away when you approached with candles. After 10 minutes of wandering through narrow corridors, Aemond said.

“We are almost here, we need to push on this partition”

You gently pressed, but nothing happened. Then you hit her with all your might, and the door opened, showing you an empty library.

“Welcome,” you said with a smile, pleased with your success against the door. Harwin was right, sometimes you need strength, not cunning plans.

The three of you walked inside and each started looking for the right book. After looking through three bookcases, you didn’t find the one you needed. You were already frowning, but you weren’t ready to admit defeat. You want to find this damn book and you will find it. Continuing to look for the thing that had already been cursed five times, you did not notice Aemond behind you.

“Need help?” He asked.

You suddenly jumped and hit your hand on the shelf. Turning around, you saw Aemond standing with that very book. It was big, you didn't expect it.

“I found it on the table” He said. Of course, the table. How could you not look there? Of course, it’s good to punish yourself, but the main thing is that, even with the help of your friend, you had the book.

“Thank you, you really know this place like the back of your hand,” you said and hugged your friend. He chuckled slightly and handed you the book. There was a whole collection of essays about various plants. After flipping through the book, you realized that you only needed 8 pages You didn’t want to carry this Talmud with your fragile hands, and suddenly an idea struck you. Plan B.

“May the seven and the old master forgive me,” you said and looking at your friends who were already standing with their books, you began to tear out pages. Aemond clearly did not approve of this, but did not say anything. Heileina giggled quietly into her fist, you smiled at her. Suddenly you heard the sounds of metal armor and someone's heavy footsteps. You quickly tore out the remaining pages. Your relatives were already standing at the secret passage.

Suddenly the door began to open, and having thought through all the options, you waved to your friends to go ahead and close the passage. Your nightie and robe didn't have pockets, so you couldn't think of anything better to do than stuff the sheets between your nightie and your body. A ribbon around your waist would prevent them from falling, and this way you won’t compromise yourself with the book you ruined. No evidence, no accusation. Really?

In addition, the idea of hiding such desirable sheets in the chest area did not come out of nowhere. You were certainly a smart girl for your age. But one day the day before, while walking along the corridors of the castle, you heard the head maid telling her subordinate that the main strength of women is between the legs and in the chest. Somewhere in the depths of your soul, you knew that this was not exactly what you were thinking about when you hid your trophy, but it helped. Perhaps you will ask your mother later the real meaning of that phrase.

“Princess?,” a male voice called out to you. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at the figure in the doorway. You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that it was none other than Ser Harwin. “What are you doing here at this late hour?” he inquired and approached you, crouching down to be on the same level with you.

You couldn’t say and just blinked your eyes, smiling guiltily.

“How about you tell me the reasons for your night on the way to your room?” suggested Harwin. You energetically waved your head and you began to walk to your room.

“I was looking for a book about the language of flowers,” you admitted, blushing a little. Harwin arched an eyebrow.

"At midnight? This is probably really an urgent matter.”

“Yes,” you screamed slightly. “There will soon be a tournament in honor of Helaena and with the permission of the king, she and I can give favor to the knight, if he asks, of course,” you said the last words a little hesitantly and confusedly. You didn’t know why, but you always trusted him. His kind eyes always calm you down, and his smell… he smells like home, even now he smelled of flowers, aroma of oils and candles. He smelled like your mother, maybe that’s why you always felt calm with him and you could tell about all your thoughts, even the most secret ones.

“I'm more than sure everyone will be flattered by the attention from you, princess.” He smiled.

“You are very kind to me Ser Harwin, I hope so too.”

“But why did you still go looking for information at night?”

“The Old Meister didn't give me the book, so I decided to watch it when he wasn't around,” you admitted awkwardly. You had already walked most of the way to your room and suddenly a single leaf rustled out from under your nightgown and landed on the stone floor lock.Harwin noticed this and grinned.

“I see this is the information you were looking for?” he picked up the piece of paper and ran his gaze over it. “You don’t have to ruin the books, princess.” He said softly.

“It was necessary, otherwise I wouldn’t understand what flowers look like,” you sighed and lowered your gaze to the floor. You were ashamed. But not because you ruined the book, but because Harwin caught you with the evidence. “Please don't tell mom about this,” you begged him.

“It will be our little secret if you promise me that you will return the sheets to the book after the tournament,” he smiled softly and you shook your head, accepting the offer.

You were already standing outside your room when he said “Good night, princess.” And I’m more than sure that many knights will be happy to receive your favor,” he smiled and walked further down the corridor. You went to bed with a smile, thinking that tomorrow would be a wonderful day.

Two hours. You spent two hours with Helaena to find all the necessary flowers. The bright sun rose above the Red Castle. You were wandering around the royal garden to get the necessary plants for your wreaths. Or to be more precise, mostly for yours. When Helaena limited herself to one wreath, you wanted to make several. For the knight, for his brother and his loved ones.

After your grandfather allowed you to make a favour, your mother explained the rules to you. You can only give one publicly during the tournament, the knight must ask for it himself, and then you will throw the wreath on his spear. In public. Behind the doors, you just wanted to please your loved ones and friends, so you did even more.

Now you and Helaena were sitting in the garden, you were digging in the flowerbed, but for different reasons. Helaena collected all the flowers and was now looking for insects to study them. You tried to pull out the flower as carefully as possible, after several unsuccessful attempts. Aemond was sitting under a tree next to you, reading a book about the history of Westeros. You talked about different things from time to time.

“What was the name of Visenya's dragon again?” asked Helaena. She was so busy catching the centipede that she missed half the words.

“Vhagar, she is the biggest dragon in the world,” Aemond responded admiringly.

“Yes, Aunt Leina flies it now,” you added. It was true. At the age of 15, your aunt tamed the oldest and largest dragon alive. Now she and Damon live overseas and rarely appear. The last time they were when you were three years old. Now they won't even come for Helaena's birthday. You thought that if they showed up, you would also make Damon a wreath.

“How is your training with the Aemond sword?” you asked while weaving the first wreath. It was intended specifically for Aemond, but he was not yet aware of it. You chose small branches of thuja for him as a sign of eternal friendship, an orchid in honor of his diligence and perseverance in various matters, and a bell as a sign of gratitude for everything he did for you.

“Okay, Ser Criston really pays me a lot of attention and even helps me train extra, he said that I would be an excellent warrior,” Aemond said with a little pride and sparkles in his eyes. You were happy for your friend, really.

Criston Cole was the queen's close friend and protector. You often watched them during training. Even though Criston treated your brothers and you somewhat coldly, it never became personal. You thought it would be nice to make Criston a wreath as a thank you for training with Aemond. If your friend is happy, then you are happy. Stockrose buds signified gratitude, thistles meant nobility and epigea in honor of best wishes. As you were finishing the second wreath, Ser Harwin approached.

“Can I have a word with you, princess?” he asked. You smiled and brushed off the skirt of your dress and walked up to him.

“What is it, Ser Harwin?”

“Remember yesterday’s conversation?” he began. You thought he was talking about a book and you abruptly interrupted him.

“I’ll return it, I promise, but for now I need the sheets,” you jabbered. He just grinned.

“No, I’m not talking about that, I trust you and will keep your secret. I'm talking about the tournament and favour. I wanted you to be the first to know about this. I will be performing at the tournament tomorrow and would be very happy if one princess gave me a wreath.” He looked at you tenderly. You smiled and nodded your head vigorously.

“I will make the best wreath in all of Westeros for you, Ser Harwin.”

“I have no doubt” and after that he left, and you began to sort through the bouquet of flowers in search of the right ones. You had a knight who would ask for your attention. You were happy, and when you said that you would do the best, you weren’t lying. You do.

An idea instantly appeared in your head. A wreath of green, white, red and blue plants, like the color of the coat of arms of his house. Blue bells as a sign of gratitude, white clover as a symbol of his oath and devotion to your family, green coreopsis as a tribute to all the joy he helps you experience. And the final plant, a red rose as a symbol of platonic and sincere love. The book said that every red flower meant love, so there was no problem with that.

While Helaena continued to search for new centipede specimens for her collection, Aemond went off to practice with the sword. You finished the fourth and fifth wreath, for your older brother Jace and dad. They were similar, they had blue violets as a symbol of loyalty, a few branches of straw as a sign of unity and red and yellow roses in honor of all the joyful moments you experienced together.

Satisfied with your work, you lay down on your back and looked at the blue cloudless sky. Only after closing your eyes for a moment in bliss did you realize that you had forgotten something. The answer came unexpectedly and quite unusually. Suddenly the sun was covered with something, and before you could open your eyes you heard a dragon’s roar. The body of a small golden dragon rushed over the garden. Sunfyre. His body shone under the rays, and his pinkish wings flapped vigorously, holding the dragon and his rider in the skies. How could you forget? You didn't make a wreath for Aegon. For the Sunfyre Rider and your beloved uncle.

He is now 10 and you are 6. Recently, you began to move away and there were no longer the usual walks in the garden or playing together. He spent more and more time in the dragonpit with his dragon. And you, not having a winged lizard, were doing other things with Aemond. Sometimes you still met in class and Aegon spoke in fascination about his winged friend. He grew fast enough that he can now lift his rider into the skies and fly over King's Landing.

Despite the fact that you began to communicate less directly, you still watched him furtively. I heard him laugh as he talked to Jace. How he encouraged Luke to go to his dragon, how he looked at the other daughters of noble lords during holidays and festivals. You wanted to be in their place, you wanted him to dance and laugh with you.

And you felt something, something light, but at the same time oppressive. You then described the symptoms to your mother and she laughed and replied that it was falling in love. You remembered this, but never said the name of your crush, answering simply, “Every princess and lady should have her own secrets.”

After sorting through the pages from the book about the language of flowers, you chose two flowers that would be best suited for your final wreath. White and purple lilac. Symbols of first love and purity of thoughts. You remembered seeing these flowers in one of the flower beds nearby. You and Helaena walked through the garden twice until you found that very place.

“Damn flowers, I can’t pick them out,” you said desperately and sighed. You wanted to maintain the maximum length of the stem to make the wreath more luxurious.

“Let’s dig a little and you can easily pull out the flower even by the roots,” Helaena said casually. After spending the day in the garden, you were already covered in dirt and plant sap, your dresses were ruined and your hands were dirty. There was nothing to lose. You started to dig up the ground when Helaena exclaimed joyfully

“The Dornish centipede! I want it!," after these words, she looked at you and you saw her admiration and genuine delight. After your nod, you began hunting for the insect. It crawled underground and crawled back out at the other end of the flowerbed. Three minutes later, the flowerbed was hopeless spoiled, and you laughed loudly, holding the trophy in your hands.

Helaena looked at the centipede in fascination, and you collected the flowers that were already lying. Shaking off the dirt for the sake of appearance, you walked into the castle laughing. You decided not to push your luck and escape from the scene of the crime, even though you were princesses, you didn’t want to meet the stern faces of your mothers.

When you entered the room, you finished the wreath, but something was missing. You looked around and went to the closet, opening it you pulled out the ribbon from the corset. It was as golden as Sunfyre. You carefully wove it into the flowers and smiled looking at all your work.

This day began for you with loud cheers and singing songs in the corridors of the castle. This cacophony of sounds helped you wake up early in the morning and you couldn’t fall back to sleep. After getting dressed with the help of the maids, you were escorted to your parents’ room. Your family was already here. Your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, was already sitting at the table, carefully wiping the cheeks of your younger brother Luke. He was a restless boy, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes whenever something caught his attention. Unruly curls curled in different directions, no matter how much the maids tried to style them.

Opposite them sat Laenor, who was enthusiastically telling Jace something. From the fragments of sentences you were able to understand that it was about Triarchy. Your dad took part in those battles and you have already heard stories, including from your grandfather, Corlis. Despite being completely sure that Jace had already heard about this, he still listened in fascination, resting his chin on his hand. You laughed a little at that. He looked like a girl in love, maybe even like you when you looked at Aegon. But you will never admit it.

“What makes you laugh so much, sister?” Jace asked. Your dear brother got drunk and you exchanged glances with Luke.

“Nothing, Jacaerys,” you said his name deliberately louder and smiled innocently, batting your eyes innocently a couple of times.

“Don't call me by my full name,” he sighed loudly.

“Don't like your full name, Jacaerys? ” Luke said and laughed after. You chuckled too while Jace frowned even more. Your mom told you how Jace desperately tried to teach you to say his name and after that you never missed a single opportunity to hurt him. Luke later joined in, but it never escalated into bullying or bullying. You loved each other, your brothers were your friends and your support.

“Okay, calm down kids, let’s start eating already,” your father said and looked at each other with your mother, they both grinned. Breakfast began and, as usual, there was a lot of talking and laughter. Laenor will be participating in the tournament today and he told you in secret that he will ask your mother for favor while she is not listening. You giggled slightly. After breakfast, you approached your father as he stood on the balcony with a glass of wine.

“Father, I have something for you,” you began, moving closer to him.

“And what is this?,” you handed him the wreath and smiled slightly.

“You said that you would ask mom for a wreath, but I wanted to do something for you too,” he was slightly surprised and examined the wreath. The flowers were neatly woven and the ribbons shimmered in the light.

“Thank you, this is beautiful. Will you put it on me?” he squatted down and you chuckled as you placed the wreath on his head. He hugged you and you buried yourself in his chest. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. You stood there for a few minutes while he lightly patted your head. You didn’t know, but at that moment Rhaenyra was looking at you from behind the curtain and smiling warmly. She has a family that understands each other, for her this was the main thing in this life.

You caught up with your brother in the corridor while he was walking to his room.

“Jacaerys!” you exclaimed and laughed. You ran after him and when you caught up, you tried to catch your breath. He just playfully rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“Don't be like the old master, Jace.”

“Oh, you know my name” and after that you laughed together. The maids walked past you and also smiled slightly.

“Of course I know, Jacaerys. Even though you can’t participate in tournaments yet, I want to give you a wreath, I’m more than sure you will become a good knight and protect our family on Vermax,” you babbled joyfully and handed him the wreath. He was slightly surprised and thanked you afterwards. “It looks like the wreath I gave my father,” you didn’t notice, but he frowned slightly at the word “father.” Jace quickly changed the subject.

“I'm lucky to have such siblings,” he said.

“I’m glad too, maybe in the future we will have more brothers or sisters.”

“Why do we need more? We feel so good”

“Well, the queen has 4 children.”

“Do you think we will have another sibling?”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure of that,” you laughed and after saying goodbye to your brother, you ran to the other wing of the castle to find Aemond. And Jace remained standing in the middle of the corridor and wondered if you needed this family extension.

You found Aemond in the library. He was already reading another book, about Ancient Valyria. You were sure that it belonged to your grandfather, Viserys I. Based on it, he built his model of the city; you noticed this book back on the day when, together with Helaena, they asked for permission to bypass the decision of their mothers.

“I knew I’d find you here,” you smiled sincerely at your friend. Aemond looked away from the book and met yours. While you were talking to each other, you managed to hide the sheets and return them to their rightful original form. place, almost

“Were you looking for me?” His eyebrows were slightly knitted and his eyes looked interested. Aemond's gaze went down to your hands, which were holding a wreath of orchids and bells. “Are you so excited about the tournament that you’ll be wearing a wreath with you all day?” he joked lightly and your cheeks turned purple. Did you really have some kind of obsession? Perhaps, but you won't admit it.

“No, to be honest this is for you”

"For me?" his eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you could see interest and desire in his eyes.

"Yes for you." You spoke with confidence and held it out. Aemond looked at your gift for a minute, felt the thuja branches and smelled the aroma of the flowers. He slowly looked up at you.

“But I’m not a warrior, I don’t even have a dragon.” He spoke slowly, hesitantly, and even confusedly in some places. You knew about his complexes, you had them too. But now was the time to take care of Aemond and not of himself.

“But I believe, no, I know that one day you will have a dragon, just the way you want. And I doubt that you are not a warrior. You already hold a sword better than my brothers and even Aegon.” You remembered that one time Aemond defeated his older brother and Aegon ended up falling into a puddle. You will forever remember his wet hair and displeased expression on his face. But even like that, you still liked him. You smiled at the memories.

Aemond at that moment continued to look at the wreath until you took it from his hands. With an innocent smile, you placed the tangle of flowers on his head and giggled. He smiled and hugged you tightly, saying “Thank you.”

You hugged for a few minutes until Queen Alicenta walked in. You didn’t hear the sound of footsteps or the sound of a door opening. She was pleased to see her son happy, but it hurt that happiness was given to him by Rhaenyra’s child.

After waiting a couple of minutes, she coughed quietly to attract attention. You and Aemond abruptly pulled away from each other and looked at Alicent. "My queen." You said with a polite smile. Despite being close to her children, you still felt uncomfortable in her presence. You felt the tension within your family, your home.

The Red Keep was buzzing with rumors inside, they spread faster than the fires in the Royal Forest. Despite your young age, you weren't stupid. You understood that the queen’s glances towards your mother, comments about her marriage to your father and disapproving glances from the entire Hightower family when they came to the capital were by no means out of great love. You understood, but you still can’t find the roots of all this confrontation until now.

You heard rumors that Queen Alicenta, your adopted grandmother, wore a green dress to your parents' wedding. You thought about this for a long time, but unsuccessfully found answers to your questions. They multiplied at breakneck speed. Then, during your lesson with the septa, you learned that the color of the Hightower came from the light of the lighthouse in Oldtown. It glowed green when the Hightower troops gathered for war. But who did she fight with on her wedding day? And the more important question is, is this war still ongoing?

“Aemond, I think it’s time to start getting ready for the tournament. Y/N, I think your mom is looking for you too.” She said it politely. You realized that you were required to leave and therefore, with a final nod towards Aemond, you headed to your room.

You walked to your room and didn’t even suspect that the queen was watching you with a heavy gaze. An hour later you were already sitting on the royal stand. On the left side sat your dear friend Helaena, and on the right was Aegon. Your wreaths lay on the pedestal and you constantly giggled in anticipation of the start of the tournament. You vigorously clapped for each knight that was introduced while Aegon sat with a straight face.

“Why are you all so excited? It's just a tournament.” Aegon leaned over and asked you with some indignation.

“Because today Helaena and I will give favor to the knights for the first time,” you said casually and smiled. This was a small victory for you, you are one step closer to being considered adult girls. Aegon snorted and you looked at him again, the corners of your lips slowly began to droop, “What?”

“This is stupid,” the prince said with a grin, “Most knights throw away these things as soon as the tournament ends.”

Meanwhile, your father and a knight from the House of Baratheon were already galloping on horseback on the field. The bright sound of horse hooves drowned out everything around and forced you and Aegon to lean closer to each other to hear the words.

“And so what, I’ll at least give the knight a favor and he’ll wear it with pride during the battle.” you said defensively. You were absolutely not prepared for the fact that your secret object of affection was making fun of your desires.

“The wreath has no effect on anything, I’m more than sure that your knight will lose.” Aegon grinned, and you were already seething inside. It was unpleasant, it was painful. You pointedly turned to him and crossed your arms over your chest.

“At least my knight will have a wreath, and you won’t.” You whispered and went back to watching the game. Aegon wanted to say something else, but at that moment the next pair of contestants were announced. Ser Harwin and Ser Criston. You haven’t had time to give the latter a wreath yet, but you promised yourself to do it after the tournament. Both knights rode up to your bed.

“Queen, I would like to ask for your favor and give me your favor.” Criston said, Alicenta walked up without further ado and threw a wreath on his spear with a slight smile. You were worried because you knew you were next. Helaena has already given her wreath to her maternal uncle.

“Princess Y/N, today I would like to fight for your honor. Will you do me this honor?” Harwin smiled and bowed, a smile appearing on your face again. You stood up from your seat and looked at your mom. He nodded lightly in approval and you carefully placed the wreath on his spear.

“May the gods be favorable to you, Ser Harwin!” You smiled and the court was filled with applause. You truly were a ray of light in this castle.

“Your knight will lose,” Aegon continued to tease you. Aemond, hearing your conversation, just sighed heavily. You ignored the eldest prince as best you could. Why are boys always like this?

This round of the tournament was long, over and over again their spears broke, their horses roared as if on a battlefield. And then something happened that no one expected. They started fighting on the ground. It was quite a fierce fight. Few people knew, but at that moment Criston Cole, the queen's loyal defender, provoked Ser Harwin not only with weapons, but also with words.

Suddenly the entire court fell silent. You returned your gaze to the field, Harwin lay in terrible agony, the maesters were already running to his body. Criston stood, but his appearance was no better. Broken lips, blood and sweat ran down his dark hair. Your knight was carried away by servants, it was obvious that he was very seriously wounded. And you were wounded the next second.

“I told you your knight would lose. And the wreaths are of no use here; it didn’t help Harwin at all.” Aegon said with a smirk and you felt a burning resentment, tears gradually began to form in the corners of your eyes. You slowly looked up at him.

“That means you won’t get your wreath.” You said through clenched teeth and apologized and ran to your chambers. You cried in the room for a couple of hours. This day should have been one of the happiest in your young life, but in fact it turned into the most terrible. With the help of your handmaidens, you learned that Ser Harwin had injured ribs. And you began to cry even more, but the tears gradually subsided and a different feeling came. Anger.

You knew that at court you cannot directly express your feelings. Therefore, grabbing the last two wreaths, you walked with a firm gait towards Queen Alicenta’s chambers. You knew you'd find him there. And you were right. Seeing his face, you clutched the wreath that was intended for him, for Cole.

“I thought you were a noble man.” You said it again through clenched teeth and looked at him with a look full of hatred. Throwing a wreath at him, you hastened to retire to the garden, where you can be alone. Only now, in addition to the previous flowers, there was a hastily and carelessly woven orange lily.

“Oh, hatred and disgust,” said Larys. Cole, who had previously not understood anything that had happened, just looked at another close associate of the queen with incomprehension.

"What?"

“The orange lily is a sign of hatred and disgust, the princess knows how to express her indignation skillfully, albeit openly,” Larys chuckled.

At this moment, you were already sitting under the tree and began to tear small petals from the purple lilac, from the sign of your first love. You weren’t crying anymore, but there was still a pain in your chest. You sat in the garden, lost in your thoughts until sunset. The sun slowly set behind the horizon and the dark orange rays dimly illuminated everything around. You sighed and took one last look at the half-destroyed wreath and went back to your room.

Little did you know that at that moment Aegon was watching you from the shadows. The prince carefully picked up the wreath of purple and white lilacs that were so similar to his eyes and hair and sighed. He really messed up this time. Why did he even listen to the older guys who said that in order to attract a girl’s attention you need to tease her in every possible way and call her names. Why did he even listen to them? He felt so stupid. But one thought never left his head, he must fix this. Even though his pride and shame will prevent him from doing it directly, he must find a way.

The next morning, you found a wreath of white calla lilies and red tulips under your door. There was no note or clue as to who it was from. But after a night of more tears, you smiled for the first time. Today was a holiday in honor of Mother. And the wreath went perfectly with your dress in Targaryen colors.

Meanwhile, when the queen woke up her eldest son, she saw a pile of destroyed flowers that he was trying to hide in his closet. She didn't understand anything, but decided not to ask. She also did not know that under the pile of flowers lay carelessly torn sheets where it was written “King Jaehaerys presented his future wife with a simple but meaningful gift. Alysanne held a large bouquet of white callas as a symbol of respect and admiration, and the small buds of red tulips decorating the bouquet spoke of the feelings of the future king, of his love for her.”

Later, at the service at the Temple of the Seven, you appeared with a wreath on your head. You smiled and happily told Aemond about your morning discovery. Aegon stood at a distance, he smiled and constantly looked in your direction. You will be his Alysanne, even if it takes more time. He will no longer listen to other people's advice, not in matters that concern you.

Queen Alicent was deeply immersed in ceremony and celebration. But when she saw you, something clicked in her. She saw your head decoration and, having carried out all the logical chains, she just grinned.

The only people who were unhappy on Mother's Day were the gardeners of the royal garden. Next to one destroyed flowerbed, a second one appeared. Now the callas will not sprout here for a long time.

Taglist: @blurpleuni-squid

Note:

if you want to be tagged in this series, please write in the comments)

All this time I was thinking about what details I wanted to add to this series and breaking down the ideas into chapters. So far, according to preliminary estimates, there will be about 25 chapters. The next third chapter will be the last, which tells about the relatively carefree childhood of the main characters. The fourth chapter will be devoted to Driftmark and the beginning of active actions between the reader and Aegon)

Аnd honestly, I don't like writing warnings because there might be spoilers for the entire chapter:) Therefore, I think it necessary to say that the story will be a kind of mix of the serial and book versions.

[ophelian-darling]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna and Jolyne Cujoh - gn reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : There's more than a way to say I love you, yet there are many too ways to say I hate you.

TW : Obsession, delusional thoughts, verbal abuse.

enjoy ♡

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫:

♡ : Thank you for everything you do for me, JoJo.

It fills him with blessing to know how much his words and actions are something with great meaning in your eyes. Faithful servant when in love- except that everything he does sources from the warmest atoms of his soul and from the deepest corners of his heart. Jonathan fights the world to see you happy, and rests with a smile when he earns the slightest curve of your lips; to him, it's the ultimate gift he can ever receive- your Love.

- You mean nothing to me.

Tears- everything that would wash him with agony strikes at once. the sensation of tearing the flesh of a heart open accompanies your words; deeply cutting and painful, causing all of his insecurities to float : Am I being useless again darling? Am I being a burden? Have you grown tired of me? He can't help it when he sheds these tears: He had lost all of your affection and care. the only source of warmth he had, now doused in the cruelest way possible. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 :

♡ : I like you , you're awesome!

Just imagine it, that ghost of a blush coffined beneath a confident smirk and a glinting wink! Joseph catches a love fever once you state that his presence around you is enjoyable. He feels that he already aimed at the moon by gaining your trust and company- it meant that you were besotted with him in return, regardless of whatever you said about considering him as a mere brother or a dear friend. JoJo sees the colors of your eyes soften as you say so, it is surely, undoubtedly love!

- We're done.

a swift of a cut that it doesn't elicit any pain at first, then it's repeated again, slightly stinging, then it rolls down your tongue, fully sinking in his soul. How could you?! Was the thing in the middle of your chest a hard stone to not see or feel a fraction of his love towards you?! a heavy realization of being used falls on his head like a heavy anvil: the blood in his veins floats just right under his skin, painting anger as red, yet the pale dread underneath can't be helped. Why? He would scream at you, but the reasons were nothing of an importance, you just toyed harshly with his feelings. 

𝐉𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐣𝐨 :

♡ : I'm always by your side. 

It ignites a pleasant warmth within his heart and shines through his eyes; it confesses his undying love and loyalty for you, regardless of whatever mean words he utter. No force on earth can banish him from you: From the depths of Inferno to the ends of earth and above in the heavens, He would remain with you forever, his lineaments engraved under your eyelids and in the darkest curtains of your vision. JoJo doesn't show it, but he's on cloud nine to know that you're staying as well- that he finally earned your love. 

- Nobody loves you, not even me.

He's already aware. Half of people fear him, the other hates him, and there were you, probably feeling something negative swirl inside you towards him, now confirming it with each spiteful letter you let out. Couldn't you just shut the fuck up and swallow it instead of saying it out loud? He spits, the words of you reiterating louder and louder in his mind that now he can't unhear. You've just ruined everything for him, he had peacefully thought that everything went well, that your protests and complaints were just a childish fit- but now, it's all so grotesquely real: you truly hated him, and for the first time ever, he has no idea what he should do. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚 :

♡ : You're cute! I like your hair!

Nobody can stop him, the boy with a heart of diamond and eyes of warm seas! Everything in his eyes glints with beauty; especially you: everything about you is a well crafted detail, say your eyes, your smile or the contours of your face. The subject of his daydreams- they were made of spring rain drops and cotton candy, the enchanting human whom he had a silly intense crush on called him cute! Was there even a better time to be alive? to be praised by someone you adored was the epitome of being coddled beyond any wishes of a young man madly in love!

- Look at you, pathetic and ugly.

Huh?! 

It's all that he can think of as a response. Your words take a slow effect on him; as if he was trying to process it in another different light, in a gentle way that didn't convey the clear in them. At first, He's at sixes and sevens for a few minutes: people who are in love together were supposed to have each other's back, to boost each other's confidence and accept them whatever and whoever they were- so why were you saying this to him now? obviously it wasn't a joke, your voice was too cold to warm the words into a playful comment, he would have accepted them if you were just a tad above expressful, not a doll that just stares back eerily. He should be angry, but it just melts in tears, all of his hidden insecurities emerge into existence, and not even Crazy Diamond is able to fix the shatters of his heart. 

𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 :

♡ : You mean the world to me.

Galatea to Pygmalion, Juliet to Romeo, Layla to Qays- You to Giorno. Romanticism wasn't something he was versed in, but in a blink of an eye, the world fell into a pink blur, filling everything with such amour a human never had in a little heart. GioGio ponders to himself that you were an Angel, a poor pure plumed creature that tripped and fell into the land of the stained; worth to be kept in a vitrine till the sun burns away. The smile that dances on his lips when he hears your gratitude, the joy he feels when his efforts of shielding you are finally noticed by you equate the flow of sweetness he tasted for the first time he saw you: Love.

- You're a monster. 

The gray flicker in his eyes blends with the greens of his irises; it doesn't reflect on your face that you just hurt him, while having the audacity to brand him as a monster. His patience contained all of your attitudes, he bottled up every evil word you threw at him and continued to offer more than he should for the sake of winning back some or little of your affection, but to no avail. The mayhem under his skin is concealed by force, consuming whatever left of his patience as he makes you toe the line. You're selfish- you always were, yet he can't help his love for you. 

𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐣𝐨𝐡 :

♡ : Good Girl! 

Valentine, Friends and dates- High school sweethearts and kisses! Her world is a ridiculously colored picture of a sunny day; her imagination paints a world where she is with you and nothing could ever go wrong. How much would she offer to just touch the tips of your fingers with her hands? nothing less than what she is able to count! JoJo wanders around you in the excitement of a puppy around its master, waiting for a treat or a word of praise for pleasing them. She wants you to say it again, over and over again, to no end! A Good girl was a girl in Love! 

- How annoying you are. 

She had heard someone she loved before say this, but who were they? 

Remorse falls heavily on her like a dark curtain- She'd just ruined the best thing she ever had in life. She blames herself for being too clingy, too needy and too desperate- she carries the shame and burden like weights on her shoulders, staggering as the remains of her confidence seep through the fractures. Your sweet words and praises were brightening her existence; was she to be something if you didn't adore her? The talkative, open and daring Jolyne is now nothing but a silent, gloomy and wounded little girl, asking for a little of love and receiving none no matter how much she gave. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Fae King + G.N Huntsman Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Drugging, Kidnapping, Angst

-

What’s your favorite fairytale?

You hardly remember it now. It's been so long since you've been able to kick back and think back on all those old tales you once loved. Been a while since you've been able to do anything, really. The days drain away by the second with each life you take, and the nights in wait for the next cull. Your equipment receives better care than you’ve had in years. 

If you were another person, maybe you'd seek for a change. Scrounge up every coin you earn and never looked back on this world, living free and without needless bloodshed. If only such a life was meant for a person like you. The person deserving of that dream died ages ago, on the day they learned to block out the screams. 

He..lp me…

At least… The ones that no longer mattered. 

You shift towards the source of the plea, equipping your trusty steel from the fire in which it brewed. It damaged the durability, but was the only way you could properly snuff the weakened voice. Its frightened face reflects in the flat blade of your axe; the bloodstains you weren’t able to remove marking its place as another victim to the flame. You've lost track of how many have fallen before it. At one time, you carved a mark into the handle of your weapon, but you lost the original piece for which you did so. You can’t recall if you stopped keeping track before or after that happened. 

You stalk towards your captive like the cautious hero sneaking up to the wicked wolf to save the damsel in red, yet the only one who needs saving is one of you. Your feet grow colder the closer you approach, but lost in determination is not the cause. The snowy flesh and frozen tears of your prey chills the very air to a still. It's your first run in with such a creature, but far from the last. You raise your axe high.

“Please… Have you no heart?” 

You would’ve gagged it if you had more rope. There's no reason to reply, for your eyes speak volumes. Silence rains as you bring down the axe.

-

A wet thud sounds as you toss the spoils from your kill on the ground. 

“Found this in your barn. It's what's been freezing your crops.”

The farmer's face contorts in disgust, but they keep silent as they shove your payment in your hands and slam the door shut. You hear shouting over whether who will clean up the mess you made, but that's all behind you. With their miscalculation in pay, you should be able to get a decent meal in your system along with the supplies you need. The thought was a little too hopeful as the very second you allow yourself to rest, the ghost of your past comes knocking once more. 

“Hunter.” 

A note slides across the table you sit at, sealed with crimson wax. 

“Your majesty requests your immediate attention.”

You take small bites of your food. The messenger sighs.

“Need I remind you that it's mandatory?”

“Do I have to remind you that I no longer work for that man?”

“This isn't about you or your issues with our king. It's about another.”

Their seldom glance towards the window is all you need to know. You settle your rumbling stomach with a drink of water and pour the remaining contents over the letter.

“Let's go.”

The messenger looks confused, and slightly worried. “I really think you should read-"

You quickly place your axe on the table, blueish blood embedded into the metal. “I said we're leaving. Take me to him, now.” 

-

The messenger returns to the castle pale as a sheet and with you in tow. They hand you off to a younger hire to avoid the backlash of your arrival themselves; the servant leading you directly to the king's throne with the same tactic you used on the other party. The king sits in his chair, chatting away to anyone who'll listen to his personal retellings of the past. His general expression shows fearlessness and glee, but the trained eye could see the anxiety practically dripping from this shell of a man. A fear that unsheathes itself as he turns his head towards you. Not a thing has changed since you left.

“Hunter!” The king masks his faulty start with a well placed cough as he rises to his feet, arms raised. “It's been a while, hasn’t it, old friend? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. We had a feast planned and everything.”

“I'm not here for pleasantries. Are you finally putting an end to this petty war or not.”

The king struggles to maintain his smile. “Ah, right. Never were one to allow yourself a break were you? Well once this task is complete, you'll have all the time in the world. We believe we've found something that will put an end to everything once and for all.”

He calls a servant to bring the item in question. It's a map. Hand drawn from what you can see. You drew one similar in your youth. 

“With the noble sacrifice of our men, we've successfully navigated a path through the cursed part of the forest and straight to the fae king’s castle. There's theory that a hidden passage exists along its walls, but we have yet to figure it out. If anyone is able to, let alone kill that creature, it would be you. We'll prepare you a steed and armor by morning-"

“I'll leave before dawn.”

The king's eyes bulge out of their sockets like you just threatened his life. “Aha, surely you jest. There's the preparations, plus wouldn't it be better to leave on a full stomach and the support of your people.”

“No.”

Your flat, direct tone cancels any further argument. “If that is what you wish… old friend. Allow my staff to escort you to your room.”

-

You settle down for the evening in a room of the king's choosing. The bed is softer than you're used to, but too foreign to provide you with any actual comfort. You don't sleep that night, thinking of the life you'll have after you bring an end to the opposing forces' rule. A happy ending isn’t in the cards for someone like you, but maybe, just maybe- you'll be able to return home.

You refuse the servant's billionth attempt at offering you a warm meal, wolf down the dinner roll you snuck in, and tried to get some sleep with the remaining time you had.

-

You're up once again before the sun can peak over the horizon. The king, reluctantly giving in to your demands, greets you at the front gates with all the equipment his guard had prepared. You pick through it, only taking a water canteen, lantern, and the shiny new axe. The king appears uneasy with your hall.

“I do not doubt your skill, but is that really all you'll take? The journey may take less than a day, but you'll need to eat and walking yourself will only lengthen that time.”

“I know the beginning of the forest like the back of my hand. I'll be fine until I reach the creek. What happens after isn’t any of your concern. There's bigger fools than me ready to play hero if I don't come back.”

“I suppose you're correct…” He holds out his hand. “For luck? …and old times?”

You toss your bag onto your shoulder as you turn your back to the man.

“Suit yourself. Goodbye, Hunter.”

-

Word of your travel reached the village due to the drunken ramblings of an unnamed, yet frightened individual. The folk that shunned you lest they need your aid all watch as you set out towards the forest. Some try to give you words of encouragement or extra support, but you’re long past the need of their help. Taking your first step into the forest you feel the first thing you’ve felt in ages. Grief. It quickly passes once you cross the threshold of burnt wood laid out along the ground.

The start of the journey is as easy as you expected and remembered. Just a pleasant stroll through the woodlands, if you ignore the warning signs and nail marks in the tree bark. Some are faded and thin, but the majority are far larger and much fresher. They’re getting bolder. Best to hurry.

You make it to the creek with a few hours of daylight to spare. The bridge across it broke when you were a child, but now you were old enough to cross straight through without the fear of being swept away. The water barely reaches mid calf when you roll up your sleeves and step in. You hear splashing from nearby, but they quickly disburse with the squeak of a small gasp. The wise ones knew to steer clear of anyone who matched your general profile. 

Crossing into the forbidden area of the forest, you expect more danger than you're met with. In this business, it's more worrying to go without danger than to be right in the middle of it. The only sounds you hear are the crunch of leaves beneath your boots – and the rumble from your stomach. 

You stop to take a break at an overturned stump. The weight of the situation is really getting to you. Normally you’re about to go at least a day or two without something to eat, but now your body was fighting just to keep upright. You check your bag to see if you had anything left over from the last time you packed. It's empty, besides a single snack cake at the bottom of the sack. And a note.

“Dearest Hunter,

I know things between us have soured over the years. Your home was taken from you in the crossfires and that is truly one of my deepest regrets. I wish the fates could have turned out differently for you, but all I can do now is offer you my prayers and this final gift in hope that you'll forgive me in another life. Know that I do not even forgive myself. In the future, I pray you are cared for well.” 

You crumble the letter and toss it back in your bag. Could be used for a fire if need be on your way back. You take careful bites of the cake. It's sweet and a bit tart, filled with some sort of jam which taste you can't put your finger on. It gets caught in your throat after you swallow the rest in one mouthful, but you dislodge it with a sip of water and continue on your way.

-

It's night by the time you make it to the castle. The snack gave you some of your energy back, but your legs still felt heavy. You bite through the fatigue and lift them high as you cross over to the unfamiliar land. You were warned of the king's carefree attitude, but you never expected it to be this lax. Not one guard manned the front gates nor the road to doors from what your blurring vision could see. The wiser choice would have been to round the back of the castle like the original plan, but the prospect of freedom and the growing headache lead you down the riskier path. 

The heaviness of your legs travels upwards with each step you take. It isn’t long before you can barely keep a grip on your axe. You want to turn back, but something keeps you moving forward. The races through the trees. Cutting firewood in the fall. You want to be the person that loved those things so dearly in the past. You wanted to be you again.

Opening the gate with a shaky palm, you fall limp in the arms of the one person who could fulfill that dream.

Welcome home, my heartless spouse.

-

When you wake you find yourself in shackles. They're loose enough to give you a taste of freedom, yet they fit around your wrists just right to condemn you to the bed you lie in. You look around the room. It's impossible to move your body. Everything is so heavy and your throat is dry. A cool towel wipes away the sweat beading down your forehead. 

“Are you finally awake? I’m so sorry for the confusion you’re likely experiencing. This was the only way we could be together with our people coming for your head.”

His hands creep up your neck. Soft, cloud-like skin more inviting than the pillow your head rests upon, but twice as cool. His eyes meet with yours, too beautiful pools of love and adoration, and so, so much sadness. Almost enough to drown out your own. You know this man. You’ve never seen his face, but you know.

“They'll come around someday. Maybe not a month. Maybe not a year, but they will. I know they will come to love this version of you just as I.”

His fingers sap the warmth from your skin. “What ever did happen to that sweet human I promised myself to ages ago? Worry not for any attempt at change, for my love for you counters any tide.” 

You close your eyes. You don't want to hear another word of what he says. His lips ghost by your ear.

“Trust is a two way street. I should start our rekindling by informing you that it wasn’t just I who willed this fate upon you, but the king of the people you gave your years to.” 

Your eyes snap open. The realization brewing gifts you the will to speak. “You're lying.”

“I wish I was. I know this hurts for now, but in the future you'll see it's the best for us all.”

Your breathing grows ragged. “You're a liar.” 

“You and I both know that what I say is true. Deep down you know that the fire that broke out that day was not an accident. It was not by coincidence that the former king came across your weakened form. He was in need of a new tool, and you were in the prime condition to become his blade.”

You grit your teeth; nails sinking into the flesh of your palms. Precious memories break from the chains you had locked them in since that day. Your peaceful upbringing in the forest, the kind man who carried you away from the flames. The same man who made you kill those who you once called friends.

“You don't belong anywhere, my love. Raised right in the middle of the battlefield, neither side has use for you besides the things you can do. We are alike in that aspect. It's probably the reason you imprinted on me when we met for that brief moment he took you away. From that very second I knew – you were my everything.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“Don't be so cruel, my dear. There surely must've been a time when even you had a heart. I know that better than anyone. I will do my best to pick up those pieces and make you whole."

You can't keep it in. The floodgates you tried so desperately to keep up burst, and the decades of misery resurface. You thrash against your binds, kicking and spitting at the man who only draws his spit covered fingers into his mouth, and smiles so warmly at you. 

“I'll kill you! I'll slaughter the people this land protects, and then I'll go after that bastard and his! I’ll kill you all and I won’t stop until I make sure every single one of you is dead. Don't fucking touch me!”

The fae king hushes you as he hooks his arms around your flailing form. He does his best to comfort you, even when one of your hits finally connects, and long after your screams turn into hoarse cries. He brushes your tears away just as he'll do someday when he takes away all your pain permanently. 

“Worry not, my broken heart. You'll get your revenge when I bring you the broken body of that man to serve as the centerpiece for our wedding. We'll rebuild your cabin and live out the remainder of our days in nothing but happiness and pure devotion. Grief will only be a bad dream by then, but for now, just rest.”

[roguelov]

Crimson Stained Petals (Chapter 5)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~6.1k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: fluff, pining, heated makeout, bloodlust, some angst

Chapter 4, more chapters to come!

With a single exhale from the universe, days flew by on the breeze. Your once tense nerves for the party suddenly formed into bubbling excitement. Yet, before you could stew in such emotions, the day of the party arrived. As the sun slowly descended, you began to get ready and luckily Lucienne happily offered to help.

“You look stunning,” Lucienne commented as she finished up the final touches.

Your hands ran over the fine material. A bashful smile curled over your lip and you muttered, “Thank you.”

She smoothed out the dress once more. She stepped back, smiling at you. “Now go, you don’t want to be late.”

You stumbled out your thanks as she ushered you out of your room. You laughed then walked towards the front door. From the front entrance, Morpheus heard your footsteps and sweet melodic laughter. His back faced you, yet as you rounded through the corner he peered over his shoulder. In a single look, you revived his ancient heart.

You were draped in a matching color: an inky midnight black. The neckline plunged rather far, a revealing cut. Thick, velvet, straps looped over your shoulders with fine silver fabric mimicking tassels draped and swayed over your bicep at every fraction of your movement. The dark corset delicately cinched your waist, elongating your figure. Silver embroidery - swirls, spirals, with floral accents - trailed across the top of the corset. The same pattern was added onto the skirt, winding down the side and along the bottom. A single slit ran up the dress revealing the dark ruffling underskirt - or so the illusion. With every movement, a small train behind you swished. The final touch were silk black gloves pulled up past your elbow.

It was elegant, it was expensive.

It was also a gift from Morpheus for this special night.

Morpheus slowly remembered how to breathe again as he fully turned around taking you all in. “You’re beautiful.”

You bowed your head, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks, “Thank you.” It was such a simple compliment, yet coming from him it meant the world to you. “And you look handsome as well.”

Morpheus wore a pristine three piece all black suit. A notable design was the similar swirling, floral pattern on his vest, however it could only be seen up close. It was black on black, and still striking. His pale skin glowed against the void of color. His eyes sparkled like gems, blue topaz seen dangling from high society ladies’ ears and necks. He was the epitome of night, not an ounce of color on him this evening, not even his usual ruby.

“Thank you,” he smiled softly. He extended his arm out to you. “Shall we?”

You easily returned his smile, and looped your arm through his. “Yes.”

Morpheus led you out to the carriage, and the awaiting driver. He kindly opened the door for you and helped you in. For a moment, you were royalty. And you secretly indulged in the fantasy of riches and glamor. You were from wealth and not a lowly worker. You were about to have an evening of adventure and fun with your date -

Date?

Plopping down into the seat, you stewed in such thoughts as Morpheus joined you. He slid into the seat across from you and asked the carriage man to please go. It would be a long ride and it was best to start now. The sun had already set, leaving hints of its warm light still clinging on the horizon. Yet, neither of you panicked. It was a ‘midnight gathering’ per Robert Galding’s words.

You jerked in your seat as the carriage lurched forward.

Date? You thought again. Is that what you truly were tonight? Were you his date or was this a simple act of kindness? Yes? No? Somewhere in between? No, you were a simple employee who struck gold with such a generous employer.

Or, so you continued to tell yourself.

Even if a part, deep down, wished otherwise. A part of you with a voice so small and neglected over the years. If it could just speak, if it could just have this for a moment. But, perhaps it was best to not indulge in such dizzying fantasies. He was your boss and -

“Are you okay?”

Jolted by his voice, you snapped out of your thoughts. You blinked, staring wide eyed at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Morpheus offered a soft lopsided smile. “You seem … lost in your thoughts I suppose, are you okay?”

You laughed nervously, pushing aside your previous thoughts. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I haven’t had much experience in parties.”

If any.

“I’m sure you will do well. It will be fun, a nice change of pace,” he offered.

You nodded. “I’m sure it will be.”

Hopefully.

He smiled, leaning back into his seat. “Relax, we have a long journey ahead.”

Your eyes dropped down as his leg gently bumped into yours, a small reassurance. Your heart flipped then quickly settled. His calm aura, his charming smile, the way his head tilted back further into the seat, how his eyes softened as you stared, you were spellbound by him.

His calmness radiated, making you calm.

In a few short hours, you arrived at an extravagant home - a mansion. Warm light oozed out of every window and opening. Soft chatter and laughter of people enchanted your senses.

Morpheus stepped out, graciously took your arm and guided you to the front entrance of the home. Standing inside the main hall, a man talked with a woman. His laughter was so loud and so contagious. His smile radiated. He was a dash of sun during these dark hours. His chestnut hair, flecked with grey streaks on his temples, was slicked back and nearly touched his shoulders. His chin was stubbled with a faint beard, a certain ruggedness to his otherwise soft appearance. His suit was a fine charcoal grey, soft and subtle, like the color of a rain cloud blowing away on the wind revealing the sun behind it, or grey found in the pebbles of a riverbed full of fish and life. He was a breath of life, and you were instantly in awe of him.

The woman giggled then shuffled off into the ballroom off to the side. The man’s warm eyes swiveled, locking onto the pair of you. His eyes instantly lit up. “Morpheus,” he greeted, smiling ear to ear.

“Robert,” Morpheus said with a far more reserved smile. Morpheus turned his head addressing you. “This is my dear friend, Robert Gadling. Robert, this is my company for tonight, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Robert reached over, taking your hand and politely kissed your knuckles. “Pleasure, and do please refer to me as Hob most of my friends do.”

“Pleasure, Hob. You may simply call me, (Y/N).”

Hob smiled, beaming and bright. “So, how do you know our dear dark friend?”

“Oh, well, I’m actually one of his employees,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed. “I’m a live-in servant. I mainly do house chores.”

“She is my plus one,” Morpheus interjected. “And that is all I wish to hear from tonight.”

He didn’t need, nor want, more gossip.

Hob glanced at Morpheus with a certain flint in his eyes and nodded. He glanced back at you, still smiling, “Well, I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Thank you.” You returned the smile.

Morpheus led you into the room. He greeted a few others and introduced you, but you quickly forgot their names. It was a bit overwhelming. He steered you to a table filled with refreshments. Picking up two filled glasses, he passed one to you. You both silently cheered before taking a sip. A sweet wine coated your tongue and down your throat. You hummed, thankfully for the alcohol hoping to settle your nerves.

Morpheus leaned into you. “I am going to speak with Robert, will you be okay by yourself?”

You couldn’t deny the quick douse of fear over your heart. Your eyes darted to the other guests who laughed loudly. However, you simply smiled at him. “I believe I will be, I’m more than capable of handling some social interactions.”

He chuckled lightly. “Good, I will be back shortly.”

He strolled off to Hob, who stayed by the ballroom entrance to greet any other late guests. You eyed the crowd, sipped your drink for a boost of courage, then decided to try to talk with others. You hadn’t spoken to many on your way in, you might as well see what these fine folk are like.

Morpheus slid up beside Hob. His eyes were still on you as you made your way to the crowd of people. Hob followed his line of sight and snickered under his breath. He turned to look at his dead old friend with his ever charming smile. “So, a mortal?”

Morpheus did not respond initially.

”Although. I did specify not to bring Lucienne, you still somehow managed to bring an employee of yours.”

”Is there a point you are trying to make?” Morphues tore his eyes away from you.

Hob continued to smile, one that was endearing and kind. “I’m simply glad you came.”

Morpheus was slightly taken back.

”It’s good to see you out again. You haven’t visited me in years, and had declined my other invitations so I’m happy to see you are doing well.”

Morpheus’s gaze slowly peered back at you amongst the crowd. Your smile was wide and beautiful, and your laughter was still the most wondrous melody he had ever heard. “I am, better than I have been in years.”

“Good.” Hob pushed himself off the wall. “I do believe it is time we start the party, I hope you don’t mind what I am about to do.”

Unaware, you laughed as a woman recounted her lively escapades with countless partners.

“Excuse me?” You twisted around to see the host, Hob, with his hand reached out to you. “May I have the honor of dancing with you?”

“Oh, um,” you hesitated, seeing how Morphues was nowhere to be seen. But, you couldn’t be rude to the host of the event. You carefully placed your hand in his, “Yes, you may.”

Hob smiled and led you over to the dance floor. It was nerve wracking. It wasn’t the honor of dancing with him, but also the first dance of the night. Your nerves must have been apparent because Hob joked, “You don’t have to worry, if anything I should be. I have two left feet.”

A smile tugged on your lips as your nerves settled. Hob gently spun you around and instantly the musicians - who eagerly waited - began to play a beautiful melody. Hand in hand, arm on waist and shoulder. hob led the two of you in a circle to the heart of the song. Quickly, and thankfully, others began to join. The dance floor was filled with a sea of people and a cacophony of noise.

“So,” Hob began as he twisted you around, “how did you come to know our dear brooding friend?”

You laughed once. “It’s not an exciting story, quite plain actually.”

”Tell me, if you can.”

”Well,” you sighed, “I travel often, and wanderer I suppose, never in one place for too long. I was in town and saw an advertisement in the local paper for a live-in servant to do housework. I was low on funds and decided to take a leap.”

Hob nodded, “I see, so happenstance?”

”Correct.”

”And I hope you do not mind me asking, but why haven’t you set roots somewhere? I understand the need to see the world, I also don’t stay still for long.”

“Like you said, to see the world and sometimes my feet are already moving before I can hear the call myself.” Your smile turned somewhat sorrowful. “I am always looking for something. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ll know it once I see it.”

Hob’s eyes softened. “And I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Suddenly, Hob’s eyes flickered behind you. A knowing smile curled on his lips. A new hand tapped on your shoulder and a familiar voice asked, “May I have this dance?”

Looking behind you, Morphues stood in the moving sea of spinning people with his hand offered out. You glanced back at Hob, and he gave a small nod. You can go, it said. You faced Morpheus smiling widely, “I would be honored.”

You placed your hand into his and instantly the world faded away. Taking your hand, he spun you around almost as if he was showing you off. He brought you close as his free hand landed carefully on your waist. Despite the layers you adorn, you still felt it.

“I hope Hob wasn’t too much for you,” he asked, leading the dance.

You laughed lightly. “No, not at all.”

“Good.”

Dancing with him, the world melted away. It was you and him, nothing else. Two hearted pounded in unison as feet echoed the chaotic beat. If others were watching - and they certainly were - you did not care. Sparks flew. Words needn’t be said. Each of you were utterly entranced. You danced and danced, pulling and pushing each other. The gap between the two of you seemed to shrink and shrink with every step and turn.

He was so close.

So tantalizing close.

Morphues spun you around, bringing your back to his chest. His hand laid flat against your stomach. His other hand held your wrist still leading the dance. He dipped his head, his hot breath fanned across your ear.

“Care to join me for a breath of fresh air?” He whispered.

You tipped your head back, and hummed, “Yes.”

Off the dance floor, and your arm looped through his, Morpheus led you away from all the commotion. Through the pair of double doors, he stepped outside onto the terrace. On the lawn, there was a cobblestone path leading to a fountain with an assortment of bushes and flowers lining the path. It was open, and freeing, with its rolling hills surrounding the property. You could see to the farthest home with its lights still aglow inside. You could imagine picnics in the sun, or tumbling down the hills like a child. It was gorgeous, yet the hills brought a silence unlike the constant chatter of the forest.

Morpheus guided you down the cobble path and around the fountain to a bench. He sat down, his back to the fountain and manor. It was a miser of privacy, but he was willing to take it. He needed the fresh air, he needed just a moment alone with you. He gazed up ahead at the twinkling stars and crescent moon. You carefully sat down beside him, however you did not look uo. Instead, you looked at him. He was the night. The color of his hair plucked from the dark corner of the night sky, his skin bathed in starlight, and his eyes were like two moons brought to life from legends.

He was a god of night.

Stunning, lovely, and frightening all at once. He was dangerous, you knew that. A man of power, and a man of prestige. And yet, you could not stop your heart from fluttering in his presence, you could not stop yourself from constantly seeking him out, you could not stop thinking about him.

Delusion, such blind delusions.

He was dangerous and charming, a wicked combination.

But, for a moment, you allowed yourself to live in these dizzying emotions. If just for a single night. Let me have this, let me pretend, let me dream. You leaned over, with your heart in your throat, and pecked his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me,” you whispered. “Even if I was your only choice.”

Morphues whipped his head. Surprise and confusion battled in his eyes. You were so close. He could hear your wild heartbeat, and he knew his own matched it. He could smell your impossibly sweet blood coursing through your veins igniting his courage while also driving him to near insanity. Your soft breath hitched, your lips parted, and your face under the moonlight beckoned him - like a moth to a flame.

Or a predator to its prey.

Your words finally broke through his stupor. “Only choice?” He repeated those words, almost unsure he heard you correctly. “My dear, it was never a choice. I brought you - I came here - to show you a good time. If anything I should be giving my thanks that you agreed to join me.”

”But, you didn’t have to, even if your friend heavily suggested -“

”If I did not wish to come, I wouldn’t be here/ And you have been so kind and wondrous with your stay. I wanted to repay your kindness.”

He didn’t have to. He didn’t need to say a thing to you, yet he constantly sought out your options and checked in on you. “Why?” You asked.

Why me?

“Because I wanted to, is that so wrong?”

”No, no, it’s not,” you shook your head, “I just cannot fathom that a man of your stature acts the way you do.”

It doesn’t make sense.

“Should I ignore you? Scold you? Treat you poorly so that you hate working for me?”

”No, I -“

He leaned forward, his hand rested on top of yours. All you saw and felt was hime. His hand sparked a fire across your fire and burned its way into your chest. ”Please, stop questioning my generosity. I do what I do because I want to. I wanted to bring you here, I wanted you to meet my friend, I wanted to dance with you, I wanted you to be here with me.”

You couldn’t breathe. He stole your breath, your thoughts, and any sane reasoning. Don’t. Don’t do it. Your logical side urged you, it was here to protect yourself. However, you could not hear it over the sound of your own heart, a heart full of want and blinded by rose colored glasses. You couldn’t hear it over Morpheus’s voice that sang sweetly in your ears. You couldn’t see reason when he was directly in front of you, and how his soft lips tempted you.

Damn everything for just a moment.

In a flash, you closed the gap and kissed him. It was short, a quick peck on the lips. You may have gathered the courage to act, but you didn’t want to overstep. You pulled away - a small sliver of space to breathe and collect your thoughts. Opening your eyes, you were met with the most beautiful blue imagainable, a blue which haunted your dreams. You leaned away as an apology formed on your tongue.

However, Morphues was a viper.

His hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck, bringing you back to him. His lips collided with yours. This time he wanted to savor it, he had a tasting and it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He eagerly parted his lips, begging for entrance. And why would you deny him? It was messy, it was intense, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. You were set on fire by him, consumed by him.

He tilted his head, and slipped his tongue inside. Instantly, you moaned, unabashedly and surprised by how easily he pulled out such a sound by you. You gave yourself over, letting him learn how to make you sing.

And sing you would.

His tongue swirled around, making your skin flush. You grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. Your bodies flushed together like puzzle pieces. A hum rumbled in the back of his throat. His lips were impossibly soft and addictive. The touch and taste seared into your mind, a memory to always look back on. A hauntingly sweet memory.

More. He wanted more.

He gently lowered you down on the bench. His hands landed on either side of your head. He finally broke the kiss, staring down at you - you who was somewhat sprawled out so lovely on this stone bench. You looked delectable, you looked ravishing, you looked like a goddess he was ready to drop to his knees and pray to. Your chest heaved frantically. He could hear how your heart raced, and how it raced in tandem with his ancient one. You had brought new life back into this immortal.

Staring up, Morpheus was casted in the moonlight. An angel of mythos or the devil of temptation, you couldn't decide. However, in this moment, you frankly didn’t care. Salvation? You never cared for it, especially now. Under the moonlight, his eyes almost seemed to glow, unnaturally so. A trick of your drunk mind - drunk on alcohol, sin, and love. You reached up, caressing his face. He immediately leaned into your touch. He turned his head and kissed on top of your glove on the inside of your wrist.

A flare of desire and hunger swirled inside of him. It was deadly to play with them, but he couldn’t leave this moment yet. He weaned to savor every possible second until the clock struck.

Or before the monster called.

He kissed down your arms. You hummed, craning your neck. You threw your arm over his shoulder, not wishing him to leave. He nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. He groaned.

Dear lord -

His lips traced over the vein in your neck. Your blood called out to him. He could feel the pulse by his lips, beckoning him. He tentatively kissed the crook of your neck. Hearing you sigh in delight, he continued. He trailed butterfly kisses up and down your neck, feeling you squirm under him. He slowly placed an opened mouth kiss on your neck and you shivered. Desire surged through him. His teeth grazed over the unblemished skin, and he thought it a crime to not tarnish it.

Part of him, lost in the moment, wanted others to see. He wanted them to know you were his. No hands shall touch you unless they want repercussions. He began to nibble on your skin. You breathed out a moan, drawing him closer. You didn’t dare let him leave now.

He could imagine countless nights tangled together. He could imagine you laid out on his bed, on his silk sheets. He could imagine how you called out his name like a prayer. He could imagine mapping out your body with his lips. He could imagine how your back would arch under his touch. He could imagine how your eyes would droop in lust and want. He could imagine himself begging for a taste. He could imagine you smiling and turning your head to reveal a faint scar where he already fed before. He could imagine how sweet you would taste and how the pain brought ecstasy. He could imagine -

His incisors lengthened, beginning to poke at your skin. Unaware, and drowning in bliss, you hummed softly. Morpheus slowly began to apply pressure. His once playful intentions were replaced with something more sinister. Pain and pleasure mixed. Morpheus could not, and would not, stop. He had you in his grasp, and all he wanted was a taste. Just a mere taste. Back in the garden, it wasn’t enough. You lingered on his tongue constantly all day and all night.

More. Just a little more, a voice growled in his thoughts.

However, pain grew to discomfort, it was no longer pleasure. You hissed. He felt it. He felt your heartbeat jump, not out of lust but fear. He smelled the surge of concern wash over you. It was bitter. He instantly lurched back. He hovered over you. You opened your eyes, meeting his. His eyebrows furrowed together as sorrow stained his eyes. You tried to say something - anything - to calm him, to keep this going. But, he was gone. He muttered under his breath, then ran off.

It happened all so fast, like in a blink. One moment he was drawing out such desires, the next he vanished. Like a mirage, a dream. Now, you were left on your back, breathless, trying to claw at the fleeting memory. You wanted to savor, to hold it close to ensure it was reality and not some fantasy of the night.

“I’m sorry.”

That was what he said. The two words finally caught up to your ears. He was sorry, but why? Why would he be apologizing? Was it you? Was it -

You sighed, deeply. The fantasy, the allure of the night, had finally washed away. You shouldn’t be delving into such delights. Not with him. You sat up, and ran your hand over your neck. You winced slightly under the tender flesh. You glanced back at the light of the manor, to the cheers of people and music. Now, you had to walk back and pretend to others as if they did not know what happened, as if the signs were not slowly forming on your neck.

You walked away, not daring to glance back at the space which held a new secret. It was best to get back to the manor, best to get back to reality. You shouldn’t mix yourself with him, you knew better. Slipping back inside, you scanned the room. No one paid any mind to you, perhaps too drunk to care. However, you did not see Morpheus, no signs of the regal dark king.

The idea of the ride back, those long few hours, weighed on you. The tension, the awkwardness, and the obvious confrontation was going to be unbearable. Yet, you continued on your search because you wanted to go back, you were done with this silly dream, done with your delusions. You only needed Morpheus to return back with. If you can find him, which was somehow proving to be more difficult.

You did, however, find Hob. He was leaning on the wall near the doorway to the main foyer and ballroom. He was watching over his guest ensuring they were still enjoying themselves.

You approached him, “Excuse me, Hob?”

Hob, who was enjoying a moment of solitude with a drink, smiled at you. “Yes?”

You glanced around once more, yet still no Morpheus. You sighed deeply, addressing Hob. “I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Morpheus?”

“I’m sorry, I have not.” Hob frowned, “Has something happened?”

“No, I just wish to go home now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to see you go. But, I will keep an eye out for him. If I see him, I will tell you straight away.”

“Thank you, Hob, I appreciate it.” You turned and fell into the crowd, moving through the crowd of people trying to find him.

Hob sighed and leaned his head against the wall. “I suppose you heard that.”

On the other side of the entrance, Morpheus was pressed against the wall hidden in the edges of darkness. Yes, he heard it all. And, it pained him greatly. He ran his hand over his mouth, still feeling your lips and skin on his lips. Most of all, he felt his incisors still out seeking your blood.

“I did,” Morpheus mumbled.

“You should talk to her.”

“And do what?” Morpheus hissed. “I nearly killed her tonight, Robert. And I can still feel myself being pulled in by her.”

“And what should I do?”

“I’m not sure. I simply can’t be alone with her, for I am afraid I will hurt her gravely.”

Hob sipped his drink. “I understand.”

A silence hung over the pair. Hob watched as you circled the party still looking for Morpheus and even asked a few others. Meanwhile, Morpheus was only a few feet away.

“I’m surprised you brought her.” Hob whispered. “A mortal and one in your care, it’s just like -“

“Do not speak his name.” Morpheus’s tone was cold, and intimidating. Hob was crossing a line, one neither spoke of but knew existed.

Hob, however, quickly brushed over Morpheus’s threat. He wouldn’t speak his name, but he would warn his friend. “I worry about you, Morpheus. That is all, we all do. I just hope you understand what will and what always happens to mortals.”

“I am very aware of their lifeline, Hob.” More than most realize, he bitterly thought.

“… I … I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Morpheus frowned at Hob’s gentle tone. Hob was truly his closest, and only, friend he had. He trusted him without a doubt. “I believe we both know pain is permanently ingrained in our long lives.”

Hob snorted, taking another sip. “Yes, I cannot disagree with that.”

“Please,” Morpheus mumbled, completely broken. “Tell her I fell ill, or that I already left. Send her away in our carriage, and I will find another transportation home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can’t be near her now.”

“Okay.”

That was all Hob said, before he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you.

Morpheus peered out from behind the wall, and watched. Hob smiled as he approached you, only for his smile to drop like a well timed act. He told a lie, and said to take a carriage home. Your face dropped, but before sadness could take hold you smiled. You thanked Hob, and wished him the best and to hopefully see him again. You held yourself high, and buried your emotions deep. You would not break, at least not now in public.

Morpheus’s heart squeezed. To think he caused this, to think he brought heartache upon you, it nearly ruined him. And in a way, he believed he deserved it. Was he not a monster after all? Did he not almost lose himself and try to kill you?

Hob, taking your arm, led you out. While, Morpheus slinked away into the darkness, into halls unseen. Like the monster he was. Hob walked you outside and saw you out. With a flick of the reins, with a whine of a horse, Morpheus now knew you were safely away from him. When Hob returned, he headed directly towards Morpheus casted in his shadows.

“She is gone.” Hob stated.

“I know.”

“And so how will you get home?” Hob asked.

“I have my ways.”

Anger and discontent roared inside Hob. “What will you do? Run the whole way? Ride a carriage and pray the sun doesn’t touch you? You are not even wearing the charm I gave you, how will you protect yourself now? You think you are faster than the sun, or do you want the sun to catch you? Or do you think my magic can do such great feats of sending you away in a blink or stopping the sun from rising?”

Morpheus’s lips thinned.

Hob sighed heavily, dropping his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am just worried for you.”

Morpheus’s expression softened. “I know and I appreciate your concern. But, I can see myself out.”

“Morpheus, please -“

“I will be fine, I assure you.”

Hob wanted to argue more, but Morpheus had been set in his ways. “Okay, but do make it back alive. If not for my sake, but for her sake.”

Morpheus blinked, then sighed. “I will. Thank you for inviting me, Robert. I do apologize for the inconvenience I thrusted upon you.”

Hob waved him off. “Nonsense, it makes for an exciting night, just keep in contact more.”

“You have my word.”

Morpheus was out the door before Hob could properly say goodbye. Outside under the moon, Morpheus tipped his head back, exhaling deeply. He opened his senses allowing the world to flood through him once again. Hob’s comment about running home was partially true. Perhaps if he was in his younger years, and if he had fed properly recently, he could have surpassed you in the carriage. However, he was older and muscles had not been used in so long. He had resigned himself to a chair and desk, dealing with stories and business. Instead, he could make it home before sunrise, but not before you. No, you would walk into an almost empty manor with questions and thoughts he could not answer.

No, not until tomorrow. Or if he had the courage to do so.

He looked towards the direction of home, towards you in the carriage vanished from sight. Inhaling, he turned then stepped once then twice then sprinted away. One moment he stood in the driveway of Hob’s home, the next Morpheus was gone. All that was left behind was the sounds of wiping wind, and regret.

Meanwhile, you stewed in your thoughts. Hob had lied. You knew that. It was evident on his face. Morpheus was not sick, he was hiding. But, why? Why the lies? What happened by the fountain? What changed?

And why did you care so much?

You closed your eyes, and rubbed your temples as a headache slowly formed. To think tonight ended in such an unbelievable way. You nearly wished to go back in time and warn your younger self. But, you couldn’t. So, instead, you sat here with bitter thoughts and a confused heart.

When you arrived at the manor, in the dead of night, you quietly thanked the carriage driver. He said nothing, only rode off. You slowly approached the door, and it dawned on you: you had no key. You internally groaned, but knew one person was home. Ringing the bell, you winced at how long it resonated throughout the silence. You, thankfully, did not wait long. The door swung up revealing a slightly disheveled Lucienne. Her glasses gone as she blinked trying to get her bearings.

“I am so sorry, Lucienne,” you apologized. “I truly didn’t wish to wake you, but I didn’t have any choice.”

Lucienne’s eyes landed on you, then darted behind you. “Where is Lord Morpheus?”

“Still at Robert Gadling’s. He had fallen ill, and insisted I go without him.” You so easily spewed out the lie you were told.

Her eyes widened, “Is he okay?”

“I believe he is, he is under Mr. Gadling’s care that I see no reason to cause concern.”

Lucienne nodded. “Right, well, I do hope he comes home soon.”

You didn’t respond to her statement. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Lucienne stepped aside and allowed you through. She shut and locked the door behind you. Turning towards you, Lucienne asked, “Are you okay?”

“What?” You spun around.

“Are you okay? Traveling alone and for so long, not to mention having to leave Lord Morpheus, I suspect you might be in some distress. Which is unfortunate after what I hope was a lovely evening.”

“Oh, yes, well the night was fun, certainly unforgettable.”

Lucienne smiled, softly. Her eyes were clearly tired.

“I should let you go,” you said. “You must be tired, for I know I am.”

She chuckled lightly. “Of course, goodnight.”

The two of you started to parts way, but Lucienne froze halfway up the stairs. “Oh! Before I forget, there is a letter for you.”

“There is?” You glanced up at her from the bottom floor.

“Yes, I went to the post office this morning and the worker there asked me to give it to you. I placed it on your desk in your room.”

Your eyes darted to the hall, to your room. “Thank you, and again I apologize for waking you.”

“Nonsense, it soothed me knowing you made it back okay. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow about your adventure,” she smiled, making her eyes crinkle.

“Yes, maybe.” You returned the smile, despite it not being as genuine as hers.

“Goodnight,” she hummed sleepily.

“Goodnight, Lucienne.”

Walking into your bedroom, you first started the task and annoyance of undoing the corset and peeling off the layers. You sponged yourself off, then threw on a nightgown and robe. You nearly crawled into bed, utterly exhausted when you remembered the letter. You changed course heading towards your desk. Picking it up, the sender was titled: Alvin Sheng. A pen name you recognized. And instantly, you were greeted with relief and dare you say some nerves. Opening up the letter, you moved to the window using the moonlight to read it.

My Dearest,

I hope this letter reaches you well while on your new chapter of your life. In your previous letter, you spoke of your new job - one you implied of utmost importance. I am impressed to say the least, but I do hope you know what you are doing. If anything - and I do mean anything - arises please do contact me. But, as you are like myself, I know you will accomplish what you set out. I just implore you to be cautious. So, all I want to say is I wish you luck, and I hope to hear - or to ease my old heart, see - from you soon.

Please write again soon.

Much love and sincerely,

Alvin Sheng

To you Alvin Sheng was your loving uncle, to most he was a nobody, however to the hidden dark world lying beneath it all he was a legend: he was Van Helsing.

[chosos-mascara]

blood night

𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪

(yes, you read that right)

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as a maid to the geto-gojo house, you're surprised when they request your presence alongside their usual source of food, megumi.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - vampire!satosugu, human!megumi, human!reader, reader + megumi are servants so dub-con, blood, biting, blood drinking, fingering, cunnilingus, man x man, fem!reader, voyeurism (megumi x reader while satosugu drink from him), scratching, teasing language, aged up megumi(mid-late 20s), names like good girl, cum eating,

4.6k words

"Gojo-sama requested a change of sheets within the master room." 

With shaking hands, you'd worked to collect new linen. Sights you'd allowed yourself to predict had plagued your mind, restlessly preparing yourself for the encounter you'd been about to endure. After a mere few months working within the Gojo-Geto household, you'd still been regarded as a long-serving member, with most employees barely making it past a week. Being exposed to the harsh realities of a vampiric lifestyle had scarred many; the truth of a co-existence beside humans (or rather, above) too much to bare. In only the first fortnight of employment, you'd been subjected to more blood than a doctor had in one lifetime, and through that, multiple personnel packing their bags to leave the trauma they'd rather be ignorant to. 

Usually, fresh sheets later into the evening had signified someone's life being close to taken, and with that, a bloody mess for you to deal with. If the pay hadn't been needed and your social life so barren, you'd have thought twice about this job. 

Of course, there had been other risks too. Not only being exposed to an unhealthy amount of blood and taking on board many mentally scarring images, you'd ran a risk of an attack on yourself. Although you had trust within your bosses, you lacked that very trust for their friends. Only a few nights prior they'd hosted a younger vampire by the name of Mahito, and due to his uncontrollable urge, you'd lost three colleagues. Of course, your employers had offered you a sizable amount for your silence on the matter, as not to 'scare your poor colleagues' - subsequently reminding you of their morally grey personalities. 

One step at a time, one foot had been placed on the stairway before another. The careful dance had been done as your heart had raced so vigorously, nauseousness rising to your throat. Memories both old and prospective of crimson and decay flashed before your eyes, a tightness in your chest. With only a few more steps you'd approached Gojo's room much sooner than you'd hoped, drawn out movements no longer able to postpone the inevitable. His door had been ajar with a slither of light cascading through the crack, growing to shine brighter when nudged by your elbow. Quick-drawn breaths had halted when you'd encountered both men within their room, indulging in a sight you'd rather not be privy to. 

The bed had been made, yet three man had sat atop sheets, limbs tangled with bodies while supported by ornate headboard behind. Megumi had been between two pairs of lips over neck, tired eyes left closed and soft hums vibrating through his chest with lips parted. Geto had been latched onto his left and Gojo to his right, gulping back the trickling ambrosia his body had created. 

Frozen in place, you could only bare witness while wide-eyed to the display of intimacy before you. The white button-up you'd seen Megumi wear around the home had pooled around his waist to leave chest and shoulders bare, his head tilted back toward the wall for ease of access to neck. His breaths were deep, face furrowed while he'd allowed his blood to spill into the mouths of the beasts beside him. Bite marks had littered the pale skin of chest, barely deep enough to draw blood, small bruises over collarbones signifying drawn-out teasing over his skin. 

Your presence had appeared undetected, and so a step backward to leave the room had been done so in silence. Trembling leg had supported foot as you'd planted your heel behind you, a shallow breath in celebration as you grew closer to escape. Only, with the blink of an eye you'd been left confused, Gojo's person suddenly removed from Megumi's side. Four eyes had now peered up to your shaking figure as you'd found the confidence to turn on heel, an instinct from your gut to run -

You had hit into a hard structure; that of bare chest and towering body. The racing heart within your chest had only encouraged escape further, but Gojo's cool hand over your arm had prevented movement. 

"I'm so sorry, I-" Panicked, stuttered words spoken as your eyes had peered to the door, a jolt from wrist in an effort to escape Gojo's grip. 

"Where are you going, lamb?" His grin had widened when blue orbs had set over you, fingers squeezing over the limb he'd held tightly. "I-" Stammering, you took a deep breath, a venture at regulating the fight or flight response your body had fallen into. "I think I got the wrong room, I'm sorry Gojo-sama." Bowing head low while speaking your feeble attempt at an apology, you'd hoped through desperation to be excused. Though, when silence had answered your prayers, gaze lifting from the carpeted floor to peer into the eyes of the curse before you, your blood had ran cold. 

Thick crimson had coated his chin, pointed fangs to decorate the white smile he'd eagerly given you. When looking into the depths of his blue eyes, you'd understood leaving wouldn't be an option. 

"I can hear your heart racing." With his voice low, hand moving to caress the skin of cheek, Gojo had looked at you through both superiority and pity. "Don't you want to have some fun?" 

Your direction had been turned, back plush to Gojo's chest as he'd attempted to coax you back into the heart of his room. As his fingers held your chin in place, you were left to stare over Megumi and Geto slumped on the bed, watching you through straight expressions while you'd been left to uncomfortably shift in Gojo's grip. "I'm just a maid-" Attempting to dig yourself out of the hole you'd fallen within, excuses piled on your tongue, though only one had been voiced. "I'm not a Source." 

Sources had been the category of servitude Megumi had been a part of; a label to those used as for both food and pleasure by cursed-beings. Within this household, there'd been only one, though it had been common within covens and cults to have a hundred or more. 

"But, we could use some warmth to keep Megumi satisfied, how about that, hm?" Gojo's voice tickled your ear, lips grazing skin. His fingers were cool over your burning cheeks, running over flesh gently. "Keep my 'Gumi's cock niiice and warm while we drink, like a good little maid." The proposition had your jaw tensing, eyes wide. "Blood sharing during sex is pleasurable for humans too..." As his words trailed off, his body worked on persuading you. The tender touch he'd provided over your prickling skin had contradicted the cursed form you'd seen moments ago, a personality switch to entice you into his clutches. To be at his will. "Be a good girl and help us please our Source." The final sentence, the final instruction given through Gojo's glossy lips as he left you to brew on the ideas he'd planted within you.

Even if your mind had told you to run, to flee Gojo's residence and never return, your body had reacted to the scene before you in another way. Feet planted into the ground, you'd taken in broad and bare chests covered in markings of lust, and the sensation left by large hands enveloping your skin. Megumi's disheveled state and the pull to graze his flesh with your own had been much stronger than the urge to leave. You'd decided with the ache between thighs rather than common sense to be pliant to Gojo's clutches, to bend how he'd wanted you to. 

It was likely the erotic urges pooling within your stomach had been the product of Gojo's magic, the scent of his blood heavy in the air; but your resolve had been clear when your gaze had landed over the tent within Megumi's unbuttoned slacks. 

A light push over your form had caused you to step forward, heart in throat as your feet stumbled toward mattress. Like most bedding within the home, silk had been set beneath the men, a mixture of red, black and white - though these were often discarded due to stains. As Getou held an open arm to beckon you closer, Megumi had watched through half lidded eyes, a lust driven intoxication written over his usual expressionless countenance. 

Getou's forearm flexed when his fingers tugged over the zip of your uniformed dress, undoing the garment with ease to allow you to shrug free. Cool air kissed your spine, a draft over stomach and thighs when the cotton had fallen to the ground. His lips quirked up when revealing the soft skin beneath, nails dragging over nudity. 

"Don't look so frightened..." His voice was low and soft, and with purple eyes drinking your body, he'd appeared much sweeter than Gojo. Glancing over his chest, you noted each small mark and scar over olive skin, the curve of muscle, defined abs. Hair that had usually been back into a bun had instead freely flowed to sit over his shoulders, a beautiful sea of brown woven into thick locks. 

Prior to employment, you'd heard only stories of cursed-beings and their fixation with the blood of humans. A reoccurring statement whispered among humans had been that of eroticism; blood-sharing had been sexual in nature and a dangerous path for those willing to indulge. Sources had often been the result of a human becoming tethered to a vampire through sex, and often ended in either death, or transformation. Neither of which you'd wished to partake within.  

As Gojo's fingertips ran the length of your flesh, and with his head buried within the crook of neck, he worked to unclasp your bra. For a moment, with the positioning of his lips, you'd assumed to await his bite - but it never came. Instead, black panties had been omitted to the floor as Getou's fingers had dragged them over thigh, nudity exposed to the bodies surrounding you. 

"Warm her up." Gojo spoke lowly to his partner, a kiss over the tip of your shoulder before he released his grip. Once freed, you were pulled toward the brunette, straddling outstretched legs. His hand had been quick to graze thigh and cup the thickness of your ass, though his head had tilted toward Gojo. His eyes fluttered closed when Gojo's lips had met his own, a few languid kisses exchanged before the introduction of tongue. Dried remnants of Megumi's blood had been licked from Gojo's skin, a hum from his throat at his partner's lewd display. Goosebumps had decorated your skin when the pair had separated, narrowed purple orbs now meeting yours. 

With his cold grasp over you, it had felt difficult to loosen up. He scaled your figure, grasping over hip and chest, sitting forward to lean into your neck. He tilted your head with his fingers as he'd made way to place kisses over vein, your stomach tightening as you'd been left to question whether he'd go further. 

Movement from the other side of the bed had caused heavy lids to open, sight set over Gojo's hand gliding over Megumi's abdomen, fingers interlacing with the hem of boxers before freeing him from cotton confinement. His fist had wrapped around the length, a hum from the raven haired male left to die in Gojo's mouth with the movement of his lips on Megumi's. Your muscles had tightened in both arousal and curiosity, fixed over the unhurried pumps against Megumi's skin. 

Geto's fingers had pushed into cheek, drawing attention back to him to lock lips with yours. A free hand had found your nipple, rolling over the bud with gentle touch; tender circles over skin before a stroke across. Each flick had your back arching, hums of pleasure voiced between your tongue and his. There had been a hint of iron mixed between you, a flavor you'd understood had originated from Megumi's neck. Butterflies danced around your core at the first taste of the male you'd watched from afar. 

As his hands set over your hips, he'd maneuvered you from the seat over his lap to lay with back to mattress, finding his place between your thighs. He drew himself down lower, lips dragging over skin to both kiss and nip, his fingers leaving inner thigh to finally trail over slick. You'd already been wet, Getou's hum of approval and gentle roll of fingertip causing you to whimper. The brunette brought tongue to folds, teasing finger finally pumping inside of you. 

The barely audible hums from your throat had turned into whimpers as he'd used his mouth to please you, a second finger added to stretch your walls a little further. Gojo had let a breathy laugh against Megumi's neck, pulling back to watch your soft expression contort into bliss; he'd been all too familiar to the feeling of Getou's tongue. Only when Megumi's hips stuttered against pale fist had blue eyes been brought to focus back over his Source, neck painted with crimson, and finally, with a breathy groan and roll of hips, stomach painted in white. 

"What a mess." Gojo's statement had been a whisper, playful tone riddled between words as his gaze flickered to his partner's, head between your legs. "Why don't you have her clean him up?" The cursed male laughed as he spoke, watching as Geto had pulled from your warmth, fingers drawing out slowly. 

When his touch leaves you, your eyes catch his, a questioning glance lingering between you before his head had gestured toward Megumi's stomach.  "You want me to..." Timid voice trailing off as you glance over the white pearls coating Megumi's abdomen, half hard cock resting below. His stomach rose and fell with labored breaths; a remnant of the high he'd been coming down from. 

Getou's smirk made your stomach sink in anxiety, purple orbs awaiting your apprehensive reaction as he spoke in mischievous tongue.  "You are a maid, aren't you?" 

Defeated, you sat up, maneuvering with some reluctance to fulfill their request. Megumi watched intently as you bowed head, lips parting and tongue pressing flat to his stomach. As you drew upward, the first taste of his arousal setting over you, Megumi's stomach sucked inward, a shaky exhalation from the sensations over his skin. You swallowed back the liquid before darting for more, Getou's fingers finding their way to trail back over your inner thigh before curling into you. The action coaxed a whine to echo against Megumi's stomach, a stuttered breath leaving his lips in response. His muscles clench under your tongue, moans spoken against his skin. 

With every lick, blood rushed to his cock, unable to tear his eyes from the display you'd set over him. The more Getou's fingers had toyed with you, the more enjoyment you'd found in your actions, each roll over your clit and buck of hips enhanced by the salty substance meddling within your mouth. A helpless whine had ricocheted against the raven haired male, face pressing into his abdomen as you felt yourself reach a high. Between convulsions, Megumi's hand laid over the back of your head, the comforting palm acting as an anchor to reality as you'd lost yourself in pleasure.  

"Pretty..." Gojo's words had been soft as your eyes grew heavy, large hand placed over your body and cheek to encourage movement. When sitting upward to face Gojo's fang ridden smile, your body had been guided to sit over Megumi's thighs. His cock was hard, red tip leaking arousal as the length had rested over the stomach shining in your own drool. It was thick, blue veins running under the skin, and twitched as you wrapped a hand around it.

Megumi hummed as you sank down over him, warm walls hugging over sensitive cock, laying back against Gojo's chest with eyes closed. Geto's teeth had punctured one side of this neck as you'd drawn up and down, finally offering friction. Gojo pierced the opposing side to his lover, face pressed into the crook of shoulder, a hum of ecstacy as the thick of blood finally cascaded onto his tongue. 

Breathlessly, you bounced on Megumi's cock as he offered himself to the curses beside him, hands roaming the length of his body while he'd laid in bliss. Opening heavy lids halfway, he glanced to watch himself disappear into you, delicate breaths and groans of pleasure drawn from his chest to form a symphony. You'd bitten over your lip in an attempt to suppress your own sounds, though had failed miserably with each action, cock filling every inch of your walls. 

Geto had pulled back first, a sigh as he slumped back against the headboard to watch your body move against Megumi's pleasure written across features when the curve of him had massaged your insides. Gojo had drank only a little while longer, pulling back to place a hand over the growing ache in his pants, a button loose and fingers wrapping around the length.  "I want to taste her too, Sugu..." He languidly pumped a hand over himself, tightening when reaching tip - but even a deathgrip hadn't been enough. 

"You can -hah..." Interrupted by a roll of Megumi's hips, your voice had wavered, hands steadying yourself over his chest. "You can drink from me, too."  As Megumi had gained back strength, he placed his grasp over your hips, a grunt from him as he'd aided your movements. He pushed up, allowing your cunt to suck him to base, lips parting as he pushed his head back into Gojo's chest, eyes squeezing closed. Gojo chuckled, tongue pressing to his neck to lick a stray droplet of blood. 

"What do you think, love? Should we take her offer?" Gojo spoke against the raven haired's skin before lifting sight to set over Geto. Purple eyes watched your chest, chest bouncing with each movement. In thought, his gaze had lifted to your face, searching your expression. You hadn't been able to give full attention, mostly consumed by the sensation of Megumi pounding into you from beneath, toes curling. 

"You told her we wouldn't." His boundaries had been stricter than Gojo's - or at least, his promises. If you'd been told your body would be for Megumi's use, then he and his husband would have to obey the terms they'd set. Though, after he'd laid his tongue over you, Getou found himself lost in your taste. It was hard to say no. 

"What do you think, 'Gumi? Can we play with your toy, too?" Gojo allowed his playful nature to dictate his aura, a smirk and laugh as he'd asked, though Geto had understood the front had hidden deeper meaning. Gojo wanted consent from all parties before continuing. 

Megumi grunted through gritted teeth, a sigh of annoyance as his grip tightened over your hip, nails digging in. He rolled upward to bottom out and you'd whined in his grasp, thighs clenching as his stomach kissed your clit. The friction had you wanting more, a desperate drag of your cunt over him to feel another graze of his abdomen while brimmed with his dick.  "Ask her." With his attention fixated on your lower half, he hadn't put much thought into his words. He knew he wouldn't last much longer inside you, cock twitching and stomach stuttering. 

"Drink from me, Gojo-sama." With heated cheeks and halted breaths, you spoke, grinding hips over the body beneath you once more.  Gojo hadn't needed more persuasion. Tapping over Megumi's arm, the curse earned another angered expression from Megumi before he moved you, flipping you to lay with butterfly legs splayed to sides. With the switch of positions, you'd had Gojo's cool chest to your back, his form slouched to reach lips to neck. Megumi had felt much deeper in this position, hands grasping folded calves as he pummeled into your hole with quick breaths. Each movement had caused his hair to move with him, with the exception of a few strands coated in the sheen of sweat over his neck. 

Sharp fangs had dragged over your skin, a hand moving to circle your clit as you felt the thick flesh of neck become punctured. With two holes pierced, a stinging pain as you stirred against him with a creased countenance - though pain had soon turned into pleasure as Gojo's saliva had mixed into your blood. 

Euphoria.

There had been no other way to describe the bliss flowing throughout your body, a lulling caressing skin; massaging aching muscles. You loosened up against Gojo, head rolling to lay over his cheek as Megumi held your legs in place, understanding the lack of control you'd feel while fed from. Once comfortable, Geto brought his lips to the opposing side, inhaling sharply when pressing tongue to skin, he took in both scent and pulse before tasting the blood flowing from vein. 

With messy circles over your clit and the bullying of Megumi's cock, it hadn't taken long for you to reach your end. The drifting feeling of your body had left you to only experience the build of pleasure bestowed upon you, screaming out with blurred vision as your muscles spasmed. Back arched, nails dug into Gojo's thighs - a groan against your neck and gentle rock of hips to press his own aching cock against the skin of your back. 

Megumi had watched you come undone beneath him, and with Gojo's fingers grazing his base with every circling motion - he couldn't hold out. A grunt had accompanied your whines, jaw tensing as he pressed your thighs further into your torso to form a mating press as he'd bottomed out deep into your cunt, painting your insides with his seed. 

After the waves of pleasure had faded into soft twitches, he pulled from your body, chest heaving when setting himself down. Sweat had trickled over every inch of his body, mingling with dried blood over his neck. Gojo kissed the wound his teeth had left, the flow of blood ceasing as the injury had closed over. He glanced to the raven head of hair at the foot of the bed, and then to his partner's arm, laid to drape over your chest. Beneath limb had been delicate skin, and blue eyes gave into temptation, ogling the mess between your legs. 

"Should I clean you up?"  

The question had been more of a statement as you'd become aware of the movement behind you, lips attaching to your torso as Gojo had planted kisses over the curve of chest, drifting to stomach until his lips had been where he'd wanted them; plush to your folds to lap at the mix of Megumi's, and your own, arousal. 

A gasp had been drawn from your chest when he'd licked the first stripe, hips rolling toward his face. Without a chance of rest, your legs were held open once more, fingers pressed against fat and tongue circling clit before moving downward, sucking the liquids pouring from your abused hole. Gojo hummed in appraisal at your taste mixed with Megumi's, swallowing back the load.  "G-Gojo..." Your chest heaved, eyes squeezing closed. "It's too much, please - hah-" Overstimulated, you wriggled beneath his mouth to fight against him. A smile had contorted across his face as he pulled from you, lips dressed in a light gloss. His tongue darted to lick remnants of your taste from his mouth before planting a kiss over your forehead, glancing to his husband before requesting one more thing from your exhausted body. 

"Do you think you could help me with one more thing, lamb?" Getou's voice had been the one to lull you this time, heart racing under rib as you'd nodded with some hesitance. As you'd waited anxiously for words to express his request, you'd been left empty-handed. Instead, Getou undressed his lower half to allow himself freedom. The thick length's tip had been decorated in precum, pink skin desperate for touch. 

Your cheek had rested against his inner thigh, fingers wrapping to pump around the middle before bringing lips to kiss the head, wrapping mouth soon after. Geto sighed in relief, pushing up to feel more of your mouth engulf his length. His head tipped back with eyes remaining fixated over the languorous movements of your head; the arch of your back. He studied the curve, before halting over raised ass. From the moment his sight had set over the plumpness, your body positioned on all fours, he'd known his partner's next movements. 

As predicted, Gojo had been unable to resist temptation. Pulling himself free, he'd been unable to stop himself from indulging in the dripping cunt before him, dragging along slit, teasing head to hole. You'd hummed against the cock within your mouth, startled jut causing the tip to press further into your throat and induce a gag. 

Gojo pushed into you slowly, hands steadying himself as a pornographic moan had left his lips. You'd accommodated him so well; spongey walls massaging both head and base with each rut into your core, all while your head had bobbed over his lover. When his hips had met with your ass, a moan had been voiced into the flesh of Getou's abdomen, before he'd drawn back only to push further. Gojo's pace quickened, his whines unforgiving. Out of the four bodies within the room, Gojo had been the most vocal this evening, pretty whimpers falling from his lips to kiss the air surrounding him, helpless ruts from a place of need, sensitive cock twitching with each godly squeeze you'd bestowed over him. 

"So fucking good." Spoken between groans, Gojo's eyes had squeezed closed, teeth caught over lip. Geto watched as his partner's face displayed his bliss, his hand moving to the back of your head to guide your movements. Hollowing out your cheeks, you bobbed over him, tongue circling the head of his cock when drawing upward. 

"Megumi, would you help Satoru?" 

You hadn't understood the request - with Gojo pummelling into your cunt and his partner within your throat, it hadn't felt as if there'd been room for Megumi's assistance. A bottle had opened within the distance and in curiosity you'd drawn upward to release Geto from your mouth, a string of drool connecting you and his member as it had sprung to hit stomach. Your confused gaze had met the brunette's as he'd gestured behind you, though when turning head, Gojo's body had collapsed against your back, and you'd been unable to make out the scene behind you. 

Though, you could feel a difference. Instead of thrusts, Gojo's movements had been limited, his hips barely rocking against you; even while bottoming out. The small ruts had stuttered into the deepest parts of you regardless, his fingers gripping over your sides for both stability and comfort. 

"He's inside of Satoru." Geto had spoken but you'd been left little time to react before he'd placed a hand over the back of your head, pushing you to latch over his cock once more. Gojo had felt almost static behind you, and with the information given, you'd been left to realize Gojo's thrusts had been a product of Megumi's movements, rather than his own. When Megumi drove himself forward, Gojo would move too. 

"Good girl." Geto's praises encouraged you, eyes brimming with tears with each gag, hands pumping over base. You'd been stuffed from both ends, and with a few more humps into your hips, Gojo's release had added to the fullness, seed spurting inside cunt. His stomach fluttered against your back, whines short and sporadic as he'd dumped his load, pathetic groans into your skin in his euphoria. His teeth had grazed over shoulder blade as his vulnerability had hit a peak, and for a moment you'd questioned his intention. Though, with his orgasm reaching completion, he'd drawn away from your pulse. 

Geto had grunted, curses falling from his lips as you felt his arousal hit your throat, a palm forcing your head deeper as he sucked inward. You swallowed what he'd given to you, coming up only when his grip had loosened. 

Only when both your and Megumi's breathing had mellowed with consciousness lost had partners stood, leaving you to rest. 

a/n: i'm not going to lie, this was so difficult to write. having to focus on this many people at once was hard, and throughout writing this i'd considered scrapping the idea. honestly, this is not my best work and i kind of fucking hate it, but i wanted to share regardless - i know a lot of you were excited :L i hope that it's not too poorly written. thank you to everyone who comments and reblogs, i really appreciate it!

tags - @toastsfriends @tomiokas-lunchbox @firebonbon @moonlightonmyheart @nx-0w @arminthebangmaster @sleepyamaya @m0mmyyyy @lem-hhn @vile-woman @onthr-dream @cotton-candy-cloudz @nymphsdomain @iam-mia9 @formulaaoflove @urmomsslut @lulunanax @doll62 @eternal-kakashi @love-me-satoru @viajaeger @misplacedorphan @ficti0nalslxt

[agoldenchara]

A Bat's Ultimate Plan for Vengeance!

Ch. 1: Their loss, not mine!

CW: You get beat up a little, but I go ham on writing description. W/C: 1.4k

“But of course, my dear! Truly an ambition worthy of my prowess!” You smugly responded back to the voice… that didn’t come from your head?! You shot up from your seat, gliding down to confirm the source of the new voice. Lightly bouncing down the layers of rubble, you descended from the heavens like a fallen angel, though with wings of a bat instead.

“Stupid brothers.. always thinking I’m a burden..” You grumbled, kicking a stray pebble from atop of the hill of rubble and stone benches you sat upon. It fell with a pitter patter, bouncing off somewhere into the abyss.

There you lied in wait, on the outskirts of the hollow as the Ballet Twin Towers loomed behind you in the distance. It had been approximately 20 minutes since your cauldron of brothers had left you behind to guard the “throne” you had built, them playing along in order to ditch you at the last minute. With no carrot and little assistance, you were stranded, left to die alone.

“Hmhm..” You smirked to yourself, placing a hand over your heart. “Maybe it’s time I start my villain arc!” In a growing voice, you began to announce, “After playing the role of the ‘runt’ for so long’, I, Cruorem (y/n), shall have my vengeance! No longer shall I be seen as ‘little shrimp’ or ‘dull-fanged’, for as long as I shall live, from this day forth, I shall be known as a true predator!” You cackled, conjuring sparks of ether behind you to mimic thunder Your wings splayed out in a show of dominance, the shadow allowing a ring of light to halo around your head. Your non-existent followers began to cheer and applause, your name being chanted over and over.

“Wow.. that’s so inspiring..!” A voice had called out from below. Confidence began to swell within your chest.

“But of course, my dear! Truly an ambition worthy of my prowess!” You smugly responded back to the voice… that didn’t come from your head?! You shot up from your seat, gliding down to confirm the source of the new voice. Lightly bouncing down the layers of rubble, you descended from the heavens like a fallen angel, though with bat wings instead.

There, a pale girl in green twintails awaited, gaping in awe of your presence. She stood speechless at your arrival, before realizing that she had interrupted your speech. More shaken than you, she stuttered out an apology, tears welling up from her eyes. “I’m- I’m- I’m so sorry!” Biting her tongue in the process, she bowed down, clutching her apron.

‘A maid? This must be fate! I must recruit her!’ You thought to yourself on opportunity, before you had smelled the scent of blood, though it was a little rotten. “Hey, look at me.” You gently grasped the girl’s chin to observe her injury, pulling out a clean handkerchief from your breast pocket. Lightly prying her mouth open, you placed pressure on her tongue with the cloth while she sniffed pitifully. The little maid grasped the cloth herself. “Thffank yu..”

You gently placed a hand on her head, careful not to ruin her hair. “No problem, my lackey! If I’m going to have you by my side as a servant, I’d have to treat you well!”

“Corin! Where have you gone?” A voice shouted in the distance. Said girl jolted in surprise, biting down on the cloth before removing it to respond. “I’m over here, Mr. Lycaon! I found a girl!”

“Girl?!” You shouted in bewilderment, shaking the maid’s shoulders. “Man! I’m a man!” Actually, you were neither, but you had decided that presenting masculine would help you fit in with your brothers more, so you identified as so.

“Oh.. I’m so sorry, I had thought..-!” She cried out in response, but her words were interrupted as a kick came barreling in, aimed at your abdomen. The maid shut her eyes at the force, frost blown against her eyelashes. “Please refrain from touching my employee!”

The kick connected, digging into your spine. Your body flew back against the concrete, slamming into the ridges of the hill you had made of rubble, knocking the air out of your lungs. As you tumbled to the ground, your wings fluttered weakly. Pain shot through your spine as you jerked on the ground from the pain, a sob forcing its way through your lips. The assailant from before picked you up by your collar as you struggled to open your eyes. “State your business here, bat.”

The wolf-thiren held you above the ground, cutting off your air. In defiance, you bit his paw, though that only made him clutch your shirt harder. He recognized your kind, and he did not appreciate it one bit.

“No, Mr. Lycaon! They didn’t do anything!” Corin weakly tugged at his sleeve. “You’re bleeding.” He gruffly responded, glaring down at your form as you weakly pried at his grasp. “I bit my tongue..!” She raised her voice at last, which made him drop you in light surprise at her volume.

She immediately dropped to her knees, scraping them in the process in order to hold you up. Though at this point, the lack of air had rendered you half-unconscious. Your vision tunneled as your ears rang, unable to make out her following words as she held you. In fear and instinct, you weakly pushed away from her arms, rolling onto the floor. “N-no!” Your wings shielded your face as you curled into a ball, the same way you would hang upside-down.

“I won’t..” You sobbed out, “I won’t do it again, sir… Please! I’ll do anything..”

Realizing his mistake at Corin’s response to your form, the wolf-thiren kneeled down, though that only made you tremble harder. He hovered a hand at the small of your back, below your wings. The heat emanating from his palm warmed your back against the frost spilling from his legs. “I.. apologize, little one. I have treated you wrongly. Please, allow me to make it up to you.”

You forced yourself to stop shaking, though pain still pulsed through your core. You were alone, and outnumbered, and with no escape, so you planned the only way you knew how.

“Then.. escort me out.” You uttered meekly, the confidence blown from your body from the kick.

Corin watched sadly as you lost the character you had formed when she had first seen you. She blamed herself, for if she had never bitten her tongue, then maybe her boss wouldn’t have harmed you. Instead of being the person she wished she could be, she had only lowered you down to her level, or what she saw herself as. Corin bit her lip, watching you struggle to stand, knees buckling.

Pushing away Mr. Lycaon’s extended reach, she gently scooped your figure into her arms, careful not to let her shackles dig into your wings. “Please..um, my lord. Allow this servant to carry you out!” Corin tried to appease you so that you wouldn't shy away..

‘My lord’, she had called you. Her reference to your new title made your heart swell up with joy, and you relaxed in her hold, clearly pleased. Your head lay nestled in her arms as you chuckled weakly, keeping your head tucked so that the wolf from before did not appear in your peripheral. “Ha.. ha.. okay.”

Lycaon silently stood, allowing Corin to coddle you as you clearly trusted her. He didn’t want to agitate you any further. “Then let us return to the others.”

Corin treated you with the same tenderness that you had treated her injury, holding you against her chest as she followed along. If it were any other situation, she would’ve been proud of herself for being able to serve you like this, but it was her fault that she had caused your situation in the first place, so she swore to do her best to make it up to you. Her strides were smooth, careful not to jostle you as she and Mr. Lycaon made their way through the rocky terrain of the Hollow, to where the others were waiting at the exit.

“They’re back.” Ellen bit into her lollipop as she saw her co-workers return, getting up from her crouched position on the ground. Eous bounced up at her feet. “Lycaon, who is that?” Phaethon questioned, seeing the bat-thiren in Corin’s arms. The little bangboo pointed its stub at your limp figure.

“Shhh!” Corin lightly pleaded in a whisper. “They’re sleeping.”

“Please, allow me.” Rina hovered over attempting to lighten the load, but Corin only stepped back, shaking her head. “I can do it, really!”

Lycaon shook his head at Rina when she looked at him in query. “Prioritize the client first. I will inform you both at the debriefing tonight. Ellen, Corin, you two return back first. Alexandrina and I will meet up with the client to return the requested item and complete the commission.” Eous hopped into his arms. “Master Proxy, I will stop by later for your compensation.” The little bangboo nodded. “Okay, but you’ve gotta spill the tea later.”

Corin meekly followed behind with you in her arms.

[Onwards!]

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Let me put my lips to something (Alicent Hightower x Reader)

synopsis: Neglected by your husband, you find a confidant in Alicent, who is being treated the same way by her own husband. The depth of that trust and friendship however stay hidden to the two of you until one faithfull evening.

warnings: period typical homophobia, more porn than plot, kissing, oral sex, afab reader

word count: 3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

It is late when you knock at the queen´s chambers. You are aware it is, but you don´t know where else to go as well. Trying to keep a neutral expression on your face for the servants that walk by you, your foot taps on the stone floor, until the heavy doors finally open. You can tell Alicent is surprised to see you at this time of day.

“The hour is late. Are you feeling well?” She asks with worry coating her voice.

It takes a while for you to find your own voice as you see her standing in front of you however. She looks so beautiful. Her curly, auburn hair flows over her shoulders perfectly and the dressing gown covering her night dress adulates her figure in the most flattering ways.

“May I come in?” You ask quietly so that only the woman can hear.

“Naturally.” Alicent steps aside to let you in.

Together the two of you sit down at the table in her rooms and suddenly you are more nervous than before your knuckles grazed her door.

“I must say, you look positively radiant this evening.” You compliment her in the hope to distract her attention from the way your fingers pick at each other and you eyebrows pull together. To no avail.

“You are amongst friends. Speak your mind freely. What is wearing so heavy on your soul?” Alicent lays her hand on yours to keep you from hurting yourself. Much like you often did to her. The touch sends a spark of electricity through your arm to your heart, making it stop for just a beat. You weren't sure how it had happened but after you married her eldest son, the queen and you had become a source of comfort for each other. Both neglected by your husbands and left to fend for yourselves against a seemingly uncaring world. Or court at least. And some time in the three years you now lived in the Red Keep, you had found yourself falling for the one person you could never have. Not only a woman, but the queen of the seven kingdoms none the less.

"My Queen. My friend. You know I do not like to speak ill of people, even more so when it is your own son I am speaking about. Yet every day more I feel I am not strong enough for this marital bond. I find myself wishing Aegon would simply divorce me. The silent sisters or even the wall would seem like a simpler lot."

“I feel for you and I do not blame you for such thought, my dear. Yet I must also protest. You possess much more strength than you think. I can see it in your eyes. Your husband may not know how lucky he is in having someone so lovely and intelligent besides him…” She pauses in the middle of her sentence and never finishes it. Searching anything in the room but your eyes.

“I cannot thank you enough for listening to my foolish worries. They must seem so small compared to what you have to endure.” Your hands take a hold of her delicate ones and you allow your thumb to caress the back of them to get her attention again.

Unbeknownst to you that simple action drives her heart to pound against her chest in a much quicker rhythm than before.

“If they burden you they are not foolish at all. Better to voice them in the safety of this chamber than to break from them. I have to admit, I do feel like I am trapped in a gilded cage from time to time. Though your presence has made my suffering more bearable.” An inexplicable blush lays itself over the queen´s pale features at the last sentence.

“I will always be here for you, dear friend. For as long as I breathe.” You squeeze the woman’s hands gently to emphasize the intent in your words. Words that speak of a love far deeper than the one for a mere friend.

One of your hands leaves her touch to rest against her rosy cheek. Your thumb caressing over the warm skin. The air between the two of you seems to crack with tension. Her breath falters under your fingertips and suddenly nothing between you seems like it should be between friends. The underlying feeling of her being your husbands mother is gone entirely. It encouraged you to utter the words you swore you would never tell a single living soul.

“May I confess something else? Something darker than what I laid upon you already?” You feel Alicent nod under your hand. It is your only answer as you avert your gaze in shame at the desire you are about to share.

“I had a dream last night. Stemming from desires I tried to hide and pray away for some time now, but all the praying in the world was for naught.” Your voice is barely above a rough whisper.

“What happened in that dream?” Follows Alicent´s question. Equally as quiet at the seriousness of the moment.

“I dreamt about you…” The words come out only slowly. “And me. We were lying in bed. You were writhing underneath me in pleasurer at my touch. It was a most sinful, yet beautiful dream.”

Alicent is left speechless, with an even higher beating heart and an animated fantasy. Despite that, her words speak of the opposite sentiment.

“This… this is highly inappropriate. We are both married and even if we weren´t this could never be by the laws of the seven. It would be better for you to retire to your chambers now” The words have so little conviction that you are unsure who she is trying to convince.

Your thumb wipes over her heated cheek once more and before you know it there are mere inches separating her lips from yours. Your eyes meet hers one last time and with a shuttering breath you taste her lips on yours. It´s only for a moment, but that tentative touch heightens your senses massively. When your eyes open again Alicent´s brown ones are already looking back at you. Uncertain, searching in yours for what to do next, for an answer to all this.

“You need to leave. Now. Before this can lead to anything… more…” The brunette stands up, walking out of reach to wrap her arms around herself. The feelings of shame and want clashed inside of her. Swirling in her stomach in a whirlwind of emotional conflict.

“Please, do not send me away so soon.” You plead in a soft tone. Walking after her to lay your hands on her shoulders. “I am begging you, dear friend.”

Alicent doesn´t push them away. Instead she turns around to take your hands once more.

“What are you doing to me?” She breathes.

“I merely wish to love you. To worship you, just like you deserve. Even if it is for one night only. Let me prove the true nature of my feelings to you. I care naught for how sinful these desires are. You are too beautiful not to sin.” You lead your friend to her bed and sit her down beside you. “Will you let me?”

Your hands travel the length over Alicent´s arms with feather light touches as you wait for an answer. Taking in the satin of her dressing gown underneath your finger tips and the silky, smooth texture of her hair as you put it behind her ear.

Her soft lips part to make way for a fluttering breath to escape and then she leans in to lock her lips with yours again. It takes not even a second for you to respond to it. At first they brush over Alicent's lips in a slow, sensual manner. You try not to overwhelm her with everything. That however quickly wanes, when her tongue presses against your lip to silently ask for entrance. Of course you let her in letting her tongue explore your mouth and dance with yours as you do. One of your hands wanders down to open the dressing gown and slips it off Alicent´s shoulders. Wandering up the front of her body, grazing her breasts that were now only clothed in a thin nightdress anymore. The way her heart beats against it clearly tangible. Assuring you that your friend is just as excited as you are. Next your hands gently push the older woman backwards by the shoulder, to lay on the bed as you straddle her hips. Letting your hands wander over her breasts over the fabric of her nightdress once more, a small moan falls sounds off into the room. Her body has long since forgotten what is happening right now is a sin. She feels herself being pulled into the heat of the moment, letting her body go loose to the touches of her friend´s hands. You part from her only for a second, trying to gather yourself. It is so unbelievable that you are lucky enough to be allowed to touch her in this way. Then you place a peck to the corner of her now kiss swollen lips, trailing more passionate, open-mouthed kisses along the length of the side of her neck. Looking down, Alicent's fingers clutch at the blankets, her hips instinctively rising towards yours as your bodies brush against each other. Another moan escapes Alicent's lips, as the tingling sensation your touch leaves behind and that excites her more and more.

“Do you know how long I have desired this...?” Alicent whispers in a voice full of passion, her voice catching in her throat.

“Tell me how long.” You murmur against the hollow at the base of Alicent's throat. Mouthing at it and then kissing further down to her collar bones. Alternating between soft kisses and gentle nibbles.

When the queen´s hips raise off the mattress again, you shift your weight to put a leg between both of her thighs, to assist her in her search for more friction to satisfy the need for more stimulation.

Alicent turns her head to be able to look into your eyes, even though they are blurred because of lust and love and the way her body rubs against yours. Her heart still pounding heavy in her chest.

“Since I first saw you. When you came to the keep after the match was made. Your dress was such a beautiful green and you hair… Oh, your hair.” Alicent's voice trails off as she closes her eyes, unable to keep looking for the moment.

“Keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes.” You whisper into Alicent's ear with a soft dominant tone. Waiting until you have your lover´s eyes on you again to push up the nightdress to reveal her pale skin and the rosy nipples that sit atop her beautiful breasts.

“ I cannot.” Alicent says while trying to hide her face, but she can't manage too.

You grab her chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn her face back to you and  her body is overcome with lust, and her mind is consumed by the image of your hair in her hands. Your eyes looking deeply into hers, with a look as if she had created the world and your lips on her supple skin.

“Look at me.” You whisper with more emphasis. “You are so beautiful.”

“Yes, oh yes.” Alicent whispers in a faint voice, her breath catching in her throat.

She feels her mind go hollow and her heart beating so fast it feels like it is about to explode. She moans again and again as she is overwhelmed with so much more than she has ever been able to desire in her lifetime.

“You are a goddess…” You murmur breathlessly against her breasts. Your tongue swirling around the erect buds until they are painfully hard. Blowing on them to elicit another sound of pleasure, before you close your lips around the peaks of her chest to nibble and suck on them.

Meanwhile your hands find Alicent's hips. Leading them with a firm grip in a slow rhythm to drag against her thigh.

Alicent's breath comes out in hot, shallow breaths. Her entire being is consumed with your touch, her body shaking.

“It's like heaven. It's divine, that touch of yours.” Alicent's breath quickens, yet her mind remains empty of all thought. All she understands is the need to feel more.

The older woman´s hands let go of your hair and the bedsheets to take hold of your shoulders. Her nails digging into the flesh as you guide her away from your thigh and instead replace it with your fingers. Reverend touches of your fingertips, pull all kinds of sounds from her. Delicious whines and whimpers and needy pleas for more.

“Please, oh gods, please. More… More...” Alicent is on the edge of losing control. Her mouth opens, but no words can form under the small, deliberate circles you rub into the sensitive bundle of nerves that sits at the top of her fluttering cunt.

You can tell Alicent is close to her release. So you capture your lover's lips in another passionate kiss, swallowing her every loud moan as to not get caught by any guards, your fingers lead her over the edge of pleasure.

“Yes! Yes!” That's all her mind can grasp as her entire body shakes with her release.

Once all the pent up energy is out of Alicent´s system and the shaking dies down to a trembling again, You take your fingers, that had caught some of her juices, away from her wet heat and lick them clean.

“You truly are a delicacy. To be savored, not used and cast aside at the whims of men that cannot even begin to process the goddess that you are.” You groan at her sweet taste.

Diving down between her legs, wrapping your arms around them to keep her hips still, you begin to kiss all around her center. Nibbling and sucking a few, easily concealed marks into her flesh. Teasing her long before she finally puts her lips to the queens wet heat. Letting her tongue swipe out to lick a wide stripe through it.

Alicent feels like a bolt of electricity has hit her. Her entire body is consumed with excitement. She does not want you to ever stop touching her. Every touch is a pure delight that Alicent's body and mind crave. It has her panting and heaving for air, writhing underneath you in no time. Not able to stop the feelings she feels building up in her body, she tries to push her lover´s head away, but her weakened arms cannot stop the force of your touch.

Assured by her actions, you suck on the queen's pearl even harder. The feelings of another oncoming release begin to wash over her again, she is taken back to that moment when her body was pushed over the edge. Her nails raking over your back to leave red markings along it. Until they reach the back of your head.

You willingly let Alicent pull your head closer between her legs and think, that if you were to die then and there, tasting your lover's nectar on your tongue, it would be the happiest death. Nevertheless you live and Alicent reaches her second peak. Alicent gasps for air as her entire body is consumed with pleasure. She is convinced that her heart will give out any second now from how hard it beats. She is in the seven heavens. Would be screaming out her feelings, if it wouldn´t be for your hand covering her mouth. You are eager to please the queen, but you are not eager to face the king´s wrath for doing so. Your tongue guides her through her climax. Making sure not to waste a drop of the sweet nectar from between her legs. While under your hand a muffled whine of your name signals her overstimulation. Then you kiss your way up again. Over Alicent's stomach and chest up to her lips.

"You taste so sweet. Truly divine.” You murmur as you give her a taste of herself.

Shifting your weight once more, you lay next to Alicent. The pinky finger of one of your hands entangled with one of hers as your other hand runs lightly over Alicent's bare arm.

“How do you feel?” Alicent feels her heart flutter, as the simple touch and question. She looks towards her lover, her eyes fixed with adoration. Her cheeks become flushed once more as she takes in her love, not only for you but for the way you makes her feel. Safe, loved, content.

“I do not know how you manage to make me feel this way.” Alicent says as she caresses your cheek.

“I am merely a fool in love, lucky enough to share the bed of the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros.” You say as you savor every moment of the sweet touch. Butterflies raging in both of your stomachs.

Alicent cannot take her eyes away from you. The love she bears for her lover, the way all her thoughts and emotions are consumed by the desire for your touch and love makes her smile.

“Come here.” Her voice remains calm, though it trembles slightly due to her lasting breathlessness. “Kiss me again.”

“Anything the queen commands.” You tease her with a wide smirk. Letting her pull you closer, before laying her lips on Alicent's in a slow, most tender kiss. You wrap your arms around the queen. Tracing the length of her spine with the most reverend touches.

Even the softest movement of your fingers send a wave of pleasure down her spine. She cannot hold back any longer. Alicent's body is overcome with a feeling she can barely describe.

“Love me.” Her voice trembles with excitement, though she cannot say much more. All she wants is you.

“You will never go unloved for another day as long as I live. I promise. In the smallest gazes and touches or in the biggest gestures we can allow. I will always love you.” You promise her and the look in your eyes tells Alicent that you mean every single word of it.

[wolfythewitch]

do you happen to have any more thoughts on the what-ifs of odysseus?

like a continuation of the sketches of ghost Odysseus or something

Oh!! I do have a short thing I wrote, basically where I got the captions from haha

I'll put it under the line. It's mostly just word vomit because I was thinking about it too hard and couldn't properly draw it out

Tw for description of death

Here is what death feels like:

It is agony. Death makes a home in the spaces of your ribcage, winds around the walls of your chest, and roots itself into the skin on your bones. It is a memory, it is a pull, it is an emptiness that seems as vast as the sea.

Death isn't an absence, it's a remembrance.

Odysseus is dead. Or he isn't. We don't truly know when he makes the transition from living to dead, from breathing to still. One moment, his heart beat in time with the world and the gods, and then it stopped, and that was that. He will tell you otherwise, and you must believe it. After all, a corpse does not move. He is right. Odysseus is an anomaly. He isn't right.

We do not know how or when or why. The people who might have known are now long gone, sunk somewhere on the ocean floor, and the only one alive to testify thinks himself a living man. See, it isn't really important though, is it? He was alive, and now he's dead. Or perhaps he is neither, perhaps he's something much worse.

The damned man drifts at sea, and water flows through his bones and down his throat. He chokes on it. Salt clings to necrotic skin. His gaze is dull, his eyes sunken. He has them pointed on a single spot in the horizon, doggedly leaning forward as if it could propel him faster homeward. It doesn't, and he's a fool to think so, but it soothes him.

His tongue is rough and rimmed with salt. There is blood under his finger tips, so dark it looks like tar.

He prays. Silly, the gods don't listen to the dead.

An island appears from the mist. It looks too good to be true. Ah well, it's not like you have anything to lose.

Here is what death looks like:

He looks like a shade, like a monster, like a corpse. His skin is pale under his cloak, his eyes hooded in shadow, his cheek sunken. In the light, all you can see is teeth. His legs are red with blood and it's the only color to paint him. The courtyard is littered with the body of the dead, eyes open in screams that will never sound. Twelve nooses are pulled taut underneath the trees, white feet swaying in the wind.

Death walks among them, and he smiles.

Here is death:

He lives in Ithaca, nestled in its heart. He is a haunting, he is a ghost.

The king is home. This is cause for celebration. Music rings through the kingdom for seven days straight.

The queen and the prince attend the festivities. They are withdrawn but happy. The kind is nowhere to be seen, but that is to be expected. He's had a long journey.

There is talk, once a month passes by. They rarely see him, and when he makes an appearance, his hair is drawn and wild. His himation is pulled close around him. His fingers are bony and thin. He does not look well. There is talk.

The servants gossip, when the royal family do not listen. They speak of the walls, of the smell of rot that followed the damned man home. It grows too strong to stomach. They've taken to hanging mint and herbs to try and cover it up.

Water seeps through the cracks in the walls. The floors are constantly slick with water. Puddles pool in the stone.

The queen only smiles and waves away their questions. The prince is not so merciful. Any rumors are nipped at their source. There is a coldness to him. It is strangely close to fear.

The king is nowhere to be seen. Somehow, this was the most familiar.

Here is where death goes to die:

An oar, a winnowing fan, a sacrifice. He kneels and pushes the oar into the soil, whispers a prayer through cracked lips.

He does not get back up again.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Hi!

I loved reading the snippet “I Do” alot!

I was wondering if you could please continue? if you want to!

Love your writing as always!

Never forget to stay hydrated!

First up tysmm anon for the ask, and the super sweet ask! Please stay hydrated too < 3 I'm saurrrr sorry this is ridiculously overdue, a lot of stuff just came up. Enjoyy < 3

I Do, Part 2

Part 1

TW: Blood, (failed) murder attempt, minor violence, angst, knives

If the hero hadn't been preoccupied with the current situation, she would've taken the time to admire the stunning interior of the villain's mansion; sleek marble floors and dark plush carpets and wooden furniture that was the perfect mix of refined and simple. 

But it was impossible to focus with the criminal's hand in hers, feeling like a shackle around her wrist, the grip firm even if it didn't hurt. She wanted more than anything to rip her hand away, but until she knew her way around this place, she would have to humour him. It was still difficult to try and memorise whatever she could of the place when everything looked the same, a lengthy corridor that never seemed to end, but she would have to try.

The villain led her up a staircase and finally stopped at one of the many doors, twisting the doorknob with his free hand. "This is your room, and anything in it belongs to you. If you need something, ask any of the servants you see outside. And don't even think about trying something stupid, alright?" The villain's eyes narrowed, his gaze wary and mistrusting as he let go of her hand and walked out of the room

At least he was away from her, the weight of his hand against her sweaty gloved one finally having been lifted. She slammed the door, not caring if it potentially annoyed the villain. She pulled off the lace gloves, looking around the room to notice it was huge. At least in comparison to the one in her studio apartment. It had a pair of half-open French doors and pots of roses on the edge of the balcony, a four-poster bed with silk sheets, and a small, crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It didn't make sense how, instead of a cell or something of the sort, she'd been given this room, especially when she noticed how infuriated the villain had been with her getting him locked up. 

Maybe this was temporary. Give her all this luxury for a fleeting moment just to take it all away. An old, but effective way to punish anyone, and she truly wouldn't put anything past the villain.

She wasn't going to stay quiet about it, though. If the villain was playing the long game, she wasn't giving him the chance to go through with it. Her mentor had always said that the best way to get rid of a problem was to get rid of the source. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out what "the source" was. 

Still ruminating over exactly how she would re-enact her plan, the hero's frankly poisonous chain of thought was swiftly broken by a knock on the room's door. “What do you want now, Villain?” 

 “I'm not. . .” a timid voice called out, “the Master said to tell you that dinner is ready downstairs, ma'am,” a servant continued hastily. 

And just before she would readily decline, the heroine realised she was absolutely in need of any chance she could get to be in close proximity with her nemesis-turned-husband. 

From the second she'd signed that contract, she'd essentially agreed to swallow her pride and step on her desires till they shattered into a million, almost negligible shards like glass. . .

She walked down to find the villain at the head of the table, his simple choice of a graphic t-shirt and a pair of pale blue shorts strangely disconcerting. “There's clothes up there, you know,” he mused, gesturing to her wedding dress. 

The heroine nodded offhandedly, giving the villain a response of sorts, so she didn't risk aggravating his ire already, but not one too entirely enthusiastic that it wouldn't seem believable. 

Still, the way the hero was barely picking at her food wasn't lost on the villain, his lips curling into a half-annoyed, half-amused smirk. He stabbed his fork into a piece of steak on her plate and ate it. “See? Not poisoned.” 

Admittedly, the hero almost felt like laughing at the villain's antics, but him being mildly amusing for a moment just wasn't going to erase years of accumulated hatred. And she wasn't entrusting her fate to the villain's mood. 

When he turned around, the heroine had slipped a knife up her sleeve, as slowly and carefully as she possibly could within the given time frame, and it was only her luck the villain had decided he was done and was already getting up. 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and her pulse hammered under her skin, leaving her feeling as though the force of it was enough to tear through flesh. The fear weighed down on her like a cinder block, leaving her moving as though the world had suddenly turned into molasses. 

Her knife was inches away from Villain’s back, just one movement of the wrist, and all this hell would be over. She struck fast.

But his reflexes were faster.  

His hand snapped onto her wrist with a vice-like grip as he turned to face her, a calm, unreadable expression painted across his features as he tossed the knife away from her hand. “Didn’t I tell you not to think about trying something stupid?” he hissed, voice eerily cold. 

The hero didn’t hesitate to aim a kick to his shins, the momentary shock giving her enough time to force her way out of his grip. She tried to reach for a knife on the dining table, but her enemy was right behind her, pulling her back by the dress. Letting out a frustrated snarl, the hero clawed at his arm, thankful she’d kept her nails long, sharp enough to draw blood. She knew the scratches felt like nothing to a man as robust as the villain, but she needed a moment, just enough to finally pick up a knife off the table. 

And the villain seemed to fancy the same idea, a blade clutched furiously in his left hand, a sickening smile on his lips. He pulled her up to his chest, and anyone who didn’t know better would’ve thought the gesture was intimate, so the knife softly pushing into her neck and drawing a thin streak of crimson down her skin was an ugly paradox. The hero still had her own blade pressed to the villain’s side, a matching carmine just starting to stain his dark t-shirt. “What’s stopping you? Go on, darling, push it all the way. Break your little code for once, might even be fun,” he crooned, the same damned grin drawn across his lips. 

The hero swore, her form convulsing so vigorously with adrenaline and rage that she hadn’t even noticed the villain had lifted the knife off her neck as she pulled hers outward, having barely grazed the criminal’s skin. 

She was surprised he’d simply let her leave, running up to the bathroom in her room, cleaning up the blood on her neck. She can’t stand the dress anymore, throwing it off and being left with a tank top and a pair of shorts underneath. She was furious with herself for hesitating. Her ticket to freedom was almost between her fingers, and she’d thrown it ungratefully in the ocean, just because of a few manipulative words from that bastard. She felt as though she’d forgotten how to breathe, anger and pain and despair building up in her lungs and forcing all the air out.

A knock on the door pulled her swiftly out of her reverie. 

“Come in.”

It’s the villain. The expression on his face was a mix of resigned and irritated.

“What do you want?” she thundered.

The villain let out an exasperated sigh, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. “With this lack of pressure, I wouldn’t be surprised if you die from a tiny wound like that.” He almost took a step forward, but he went back on it, realising he’d probably just aggravate her even more. The man wasn’t dumb. 

She noticed that blood was still snaking down her neck, so she pressed harder at his comment. “Why do you care? You’re the one who gave me this?”

The villain rolled his eyes, giving the hero a look one only reserves for a petulant child. “I told you before I’m not looking to mistreat you. But I never said I’d let you irritate me as you please and get away with it unscathed. But I’m not here for this. I’m here to tell you that tomorrow, there’s some stupid event I’m meant to attend with my civilian identity, and I’m supposed to bring you with me. News travels fast, and sooner or later they’ll find out I’ve married someone. I don’t want them thinking I’ve got anything to hide.”

“I don’t understand why you’d come here and tell me this yourself. Don’t you usually send one of your many servants to do this?” 

To the hero’s surprise, the villain’s lips curved into a wolfish sort of grin.  “Because one of my many servants would be too scared to tell you that I’m not going to let you mess this up. That if you push me hard enough, you’ll regret it. So for tomorrow at least, you’re going to have to pretend you tolerate me. Put on a show for these people like you do for the public.” 

All the hero did in response was give him a blank look. For now at least, she would have to play along. 

“There’s painkillers in this drawer, by the way,” he said, gesturing to the drawer of her nightstand before walking out. 

The hero collapsed on the bed, exhausted and relieved to be alone for now. This was going to be a whole lot more difficult than she thought. 

You can’t win every time, the hero had come to learn. There are times when fate will twist against you, but it doesn’t mean that all is lost. A drawn out fight was never a surefire sign of defeat; it just meant that it would take more perseverance, more withstanding to win.  If she had to turn her nerves into steel and her heart into ice and her face into a mask, then so be it. 

Tagging for the part 2 : @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @adamswrongchild @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth @dragonmine-24 @detectivepetrichor @orangeduckweed @red-is-the-reputation4444 @alexii117 @prophecies-bestowed-upon-ye Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[ser3nityst4r]

Eighth Step

The night before the duel, Yuu tossed and turned, plagued by a dream that felt both familiar and terrifying. In their vision, the Queen of Hearts, a figure of regal yet chilling power, paced a lavish garden, her voice echoing with manic glee. Wanting to wake up from this nightmare but also wanting to stay til the end to see how the story plays out, Yuu realized it was awfully similar to a certain movie from their original world. 'A single rosebud out of place, a crumb on the tablecloth… oh, the tragedy!' she boomed, her laughter echoing like thunder through the dream. Her punishments were absurd, cruel, and completely disproportionate to the 'offenses'. A single misplaced teacup led to a servant being forced to drink an entire pot of boiling tea. A dropped napkin resulted in a swift trial and execution by playing cards. Yuu woke with a gasp, sweat clinging to their skin. The dream felt so real, the Queen’s manic laughter echoing in their ears even as morning light filtered through the dorm window.

Unable to tell if that was just a nightmare or a warning from the universe, Yuu went outside the dorm to get a breath of fresh air to clear their head. Amidst the shadows, they see a gorgeous figure with emerald scaled horns atop his head. Its bright, glowing eyes stared back at Yuu. “Hm? I was unaware that someone had taken a liking to this place as I thought it was completely inhabitable.

“Who might you be?” Yuu asked with admiration and curiosity lacing their voice, wanting to know the name of the gorgeous and unique fellow before them. “You really don’t know who I am?” His eyes widen with shock before recomposing himself, finding Yuu to be extremely fascinatingly. He continued, “You may call me whatever you wish for it might be a bad idea on my part if I gave you my name now. When the time arrives, I shall bestow you my name.” Yuu found him to be utterly ethereal and enchanting, especially his lovely glimmering horns atop his head. “Then, I shall call you Tsunotaro/Hornton!” Yuu beamed, their heart racing at getting to meet and give the enchanting person a nickname to call them by. Little did Yuu know, the fae was beyond joyous to have finally have someone to call his friend.

“Ah… It’s getting pretty late and there’s a duel tomorrow, I better get back inside” Yuu said, their voice shaken and mourning over the lost time with the ethereal stranger. “I’ll see you soon, Tsunotaro!” With a wave and sleepy smile, they went back into their dorm as the fae granted them a beautiful sight of fireflies.

'Yuu! Yuu! Wake up! Today’s the big duel!' Grim yelled, his voice brimming with a mix of excitement and fear.  Yuu sat up, the dream haunting their mind. 'A duel… with Riddle?' they murmured, a sense of dread slowly creeping in. Still wondering if the meeting of the strange man with horns was a dream or not. ‘Was last night a dream? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. After all, how could someone look so breathtakingly royal visit such a shabby place like Ramshackle…’ The hallways of NRC buzzed with the news, the idea of anyone challenging Riddle Rosehearts a source of amusement and disbelief. 'Riddle? That's like challenging a lion to a staring contest!' one student snickered.  Trey and Cater, upon hearing the news, their faces paled. They knew the severity of the situation. Riddle, in his role as housewarden, was ruthless and unforgiving.   'They’re just underclassmen, they won't stand a chance,' Cater added, his usual boisterous energy subdued. Trey nodded anxiously in agreement, silently hoping Ace and Deuce won’t be too injured after this. The duel was held in a grand hall, its atmosphere thick with anticipation. Crowley, the headmaster, stood poised, a stern expression on his face. 'We are about to commence two challenges for the housewarden position at Heartslabyul House,' he announced, his voice echoing through the hall. 'The first challenger is Ace Trappola. The second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts. Now, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars.” Ace and Deuce, their faces alight with a mixture of excitement and fear, cheered as the collars were removed, liberating their magic.  'Enjoy your moment of freedom,' Riddle sneered, his voice as sharp as a knife. 'The collar will be back on soon enough.' 'I could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me,' he continued, his gaze sweeping over Ace and Deuce, disdain dripping from his words. 'Is this a joke?' Crowley, ignoring Riddle’s arrogance, stepped forward. 'The duel will be decided in a single round. Riddle, you have the right to choose the challenge. Now, choose wisely. The consequences of your choice will be entirely yours to bear.' 

Cater approached Riddle to remind him that one of the rules of Riddle’s own farce was that teatime is at 4pm sharp and that it has already been last 3:30pm. “And you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.” The redhead laughed at the possibility.

Riddle, with a smirk playing on his lips, turned towards the students. 'It appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.' Crowley, caught off guard by Riddle’s unexpected move, nodded in agreement. 'Very well, Riddle. Proceed as you wish.'  He held up a mirror, shimmering in the dim hall light. 'When the mirror I’ve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. Ready... Go!' As the mirror crashed to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces, Yuu felt a wave of dread wash over them. Their heart pounded in their chest, their eyes brimming with tears, a sense of overwhelming fear taking hold. Their heart writhing in cages and oppression, unknown to the reason behind their distress. Yuu’s intuition screamed at them, urging them to do something, to stop whatever terrible thing was about to happen. But the fear was too powerful, blinding them. They couldn’t see the danger, couldn’t comprehend the terrible consequences that awaited them.  'What is going to happen?' Yuu whispered, their voice barely audible. 'What’s so terrifying?'

As the duel began, Yuu knew they were witnessing something more than just a simple magic competition. They were reading the beginning of Riddle's inked pages, a dark and twisted reflection of the Queen of Hearts' tyranny. And in the depths of Yuu’s fear, a chilling certainty dawned: the dream had been a symbolic warning of what was to come. Splash

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 2

Hey everyone! I’m glad that you liked that first chapter! I’ve tried to add everyone who asked on my last post to my taglist, if you are interested in being added comment below, and let me know if it works or not. The updates will be pretty random depending on my work schedule but I’ll try to get them out once they’re written as I’m having fun writing again!

I hope you guys enjoy!

Trigger warnings: power imbalance, manipulation, Mean Aemond (like mean mean), and blackmailing (he threatens her job)

Dividers are from @firefly-graphics (all of their work is amazingggggg)

You spent the rest of that night tossing and turning in your small bed remembering what had happened. Gods you were so stupid. You never did know when to stop talking when your anger got the better of you.

At least the family was more preoccupied with Aemond’s outburst which caused a scene so soon after the death of Vaemond Velaryon.

As the sunrise peeked through the curtains you dreaded leaving your bed, but followed the lead of your roommates and started to prepare for the day. You found yourself falling into the easy routine that you had established since starting at the Red Keep.

After a long stretch you hastily made your bed, tightly tucking the sheets into the frame before tending to your hair. It had been awhile since you had worn your hair down as it was considered improper for a servant so you had found multiple braided updos that fit your hair. With each twist of your hair you mentally took stock of what the day would bring as if it were a checklist. Hair and cap done? Check. Uniform on? Check. Apron pressed and clean? Check.

When you were satisfied with your appearance, you and your roommates: Daelia and Wendelyn made the short walk to the Red Keep together. Although you enjoyed their presence you wouldn’t exactly call the two girls your friends. Daelia was prone to petty gossip and would alway have a rumor to spread whenever you talked to her. Wendelyn; however, was the opposite. She detested idle chatter and kept mostly to herself when at home. You supposed you were somewhere in between the two.

“I heard that Princess Rhaenyra only wedded Daemon because he impregnated her before their wedding.” Daelia whispered into your ear as the three of you entered the Keep and headed towards the kitchens.

“Did you hear it from Mushroom?” You asked dryly, referring to the fool that ran around court with wildly fabricated stories.

“Well-“ Daelia stuttered. “He is close to the Princess-“

You groaned heavily as she spoke. “Daelia what you speak of could get you killed. And besides Mushroom isn’t exactly a trustworthy source. We’ve talked about this.”

Wendelyn nodded sagely as you spoke but added nothing to the conversation.

“You stupid girl.” You heard some hiss in front of you as you crossed the doorway into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry what?” You asked in disbelief as Naerys stormed over to you.

“She does not look happy.” Wendelyn said softly before patting you back supportively and walking away.

Daelia said nothing before finding the cracked stones very interesting and walking over to check them out.

“You had one job. One duty. To pour the royal family’s wine and not bring attention to yourself.” Naerys grabbed you tightly by your arm and dragged you out of the kitchen.

“But I did!” You said defensively.

“Not well enough apparently.” Naerys shook her head, obviously irritated with you. “Prince Aemond requested you by name to attend to him.”

You froze at her words and felt your face pale.

“Whatever insult you did or offense you committed, apologize. Profusely.” She gripped you tight enough that you felt her fingers through your long sleeves.

“I- I didn’t mean to say… it just came out…” You felt your hands grow clammy as Naerys looked at you deeply.

“Well ensure that no other insults come out.” She slowly released you. “Prince Aemond is currently training with Ser Cole but requested that a bath be ready upon his return. Now go. Perhaps he will tire of you soon enough.”

You nodded quickly, trying not to show your nerves. Out of all of the Targaryens to upset Aemond was not the best choice and you should have known better than to provoke him. You remembered reading about the atrocities he would commit against House Strong all because they shared the same blood as Rhaenyra’s children. Perhaps you could put aside your pride for once and grovel if need be. You bit your lip as you found yourself walking to the laundry rooms to fetch fresh linens and towels.

The smell of soap invaded your senses while you grabbed what was needed. It was impossible to guess his motivations for seeking you out, but you tried to anyway. Maybe he just wanted to humiliate you more for daring to smile at his sister and nephew dancing. But how did he learn your name? Naerys said he knew your name.

The way to his chambers was similar to the one to the dining room as they were in the same wing of the Keep. You struggled to hold the smooth sheets and blankets as you attempted to open the door. The handle clicked slightly as the door swung open revealing an empty room. He must still be training with Cole.

Prince Aemond’s chambers were about what you would expect for a prince. The furniture was opulent with a large four posted bed in the middle of the spacious room. You had never been in a room that belonged to the royal family before so you found yourself gawking at the private balcony and golden detailing that decorated the walls.

Looking around the room you noticed another entrance to what must be the bathroom that you slowly walked towards. Better to get this over with quickly. Perhaps you might not even run into Aemond at all.

His washroom was much smaller than the rest of the rooms, only containing a large brass tub in the middle of the room and some cabinets near the doors that had a woodsy smell.

You were fortunate that others had brought in large buckets of water that already filled the tub. All you needed to do to prepare was light the fire underneath to warm the cold water.

Humming slightly, you opened the nearby cabinet and rummaged around looking for the flint and steel. You missed music. Real music that you knew and grew up with.

“I’ve never heard that song.” A deep voice spoke behind you, causing you to jump and slam your hand into the drawer.

“Fuck!” You grabbed your throbbing hand and shook it slightly as you turned to see Aemond in the doorway. His long hair was slightly tussled, probably from sparring with Criston Cole.

“You really are an impudent little thing aren’t you?” He quirked his good eye’s brow as he sauntered over. “You are supposed to acknowledge me with a nod of your head when I enter.”

He was standing too close to you as he spoke with a smug smile as you hurriedly did as he said. “My apologies, my prince.” You whispered softly. Remember what Naerys said. Put aside your pride and get him to forget you.

He hummed slightly, deep in thought before stepping back slightly. “Well? Get on with it.” He waved his hand over the tub impatiently.

“Of course, my prince.” You mumbled out kneeling next to the tub and striking the two metals together. You were surprised as you got it on your first try with your shaking hands. If they were from anger or fear you couldn’t tell.

The man said nothing as you stood up and gathered the needed linens to remake his bed, only watching you with that smug smirk as you focused on your task. You roughly grabbed the sheets from his bed and practically ripped them off of the bed before remaking it harshly and trying not to pay attention to his sharp gaze.

“You are not from Westeros.” He said simply from behind you.

You felt sweat drip from your temples from his statement. “I am not, your grace.” You agreed as you finished smoothing out the top blanket. One more task done and the faster you worked the faster you could leave.

“You’re not from Essos or Dorne either.” His voice sounded closer than before and you heard his shoes thump across the floor as he walked. “Your accent is from somewhere I have never heard of before. I could not place it last night and cannot even now.”

Your mouth was dry as you scrambled to think of a response. “I am from somewhere very small, my prince. It’s no wonder you haven’t heard of our accent before.” Just be agreeable and perhaps he’ll forget last night.

He hummed again thoughtfully as you checked on the water before adding the oils that looked like they were used the most. “Everything you need for your bath should be prepared, your grace.” You nodded your head to him as he passed you back into the small washroom and peered at your work with a discerning eye. “Will that be all for now?” You added at the last second remembering the protocol that you were taught before being assigned to the kitchens.

Aemond reached behind his head and quickly pulled off a small tie that kept his hair in his signature style, letting it fall freely. “Hmmm. Nothing else to add? No more clever quips?”

You blushed at his words. “What happened last night was a mistake, your grace. I’m truly sorry that-“

“I will require your help in undressing and bathing.” He said as he threw the hair tie to the floor without a care in the world.

“I- that’s not… I really shouldn’t…” You stammered out feeling your face turn from a light pink to fire truck red.

“What you should do is obey your prince.” Aemond cocked his head at you and held his hands out expectantly. “Although I suppose you could always find some other way to make some coin, perhaps on the Street of Silk.”

You felt your lungs start to expand rapidly as he brushed the side of your arm softly. “My brother tends to frequent those streets but perhaps with you there I might have to make a habit of it as well. ” You couldn’t move as his hand started trailing under your apron. “I do think my mother would be very interested to hear what you said about her favorite son.”

“Please…” You begged weakly, fighting the urge to slap him across the face. “I can’t afford to lose this job.” Your voice creaked as his caress turned into a sharp grope on your ass.

“Then we’re in agreement. You’re here to serve, so serve.”

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@dixie-elocin

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@ka1afbr

@sepherinaspoppies

[arendaes]

37. defy

Thank you! This one's a bit longer than the others since it's the last one. I promise I'll actually write the date they're going to at some point. Dance of Masks spoilers below!

37. defy (Ariadne/Daeran/Woljif, 712 words)

“I am sleeping, Commander. As you should be.”

Regill’s admonishment from moments ago rang in her mind. He was right, of course, but tonight Ariadne was of a mind to defy all sound advice and common sense. It was late - or perhaps early - and they were due to return to Drezen tomorrow, but sleep was not high on her list of priorities. Every nerve in her body felt alive, and as the boozy haze that’d pervaded her senses had faded, she found there was only one thing she wanted.

Well, two things, and she needed to find them.

It didn’t help that she’d turned from Regill’s cot, having rethought the urge to poke him, and found Daeran had already abandoned his short-lived turn as a philosopher. There wasn’t a trace of him to be found, and the remaining group had been most unhelpful, having no idea where he’d gone.

She rounded the corner into the main room of the tavern, hoping to catch up with him, and froze at what she saw. All thoughts of finding Daeran fled at the sight of Woljif crouching down beside a passed-out patron, rummaging through the man’s pockets and muttering to himself.

“Huh!” she said, just loud enough for Woljif to hear, crossing her arms as she did so. He froze, eyes widening before he slowly looked up at her.

“I, um…hey Ari! Can’t sleep, huh? I can’t blame you.” His smile was guilty and sheepish.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Maybe it was the exhaustion she hadn’t felt moments before finally creeping into her voice, or maybe it was just his conscience catching up with him, but Woljif flushed.

“It’s…it’s nothing! It was for me, for old time’s sake. To prove I still got it.” Woljif looked at the fistful of coins clenched in his hands. “It’s not like I’m stealing from our people, and they don’t got much on them anyways.”

“The people in this tavern are ‘our’ people too.” She moved closer but stopped just shy of touching him. “Put it back.”

Woljif glared at his fist, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of her or himself. But he sighed and crouched down, stuffing the coins haphazardly back in the man’s pocket. His mark barely stirred, mumbling something about his mother before trying to burrow further into the soiled carpet.

When he stood, Ariadne closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm around his waist and bringing the other hand to his chin, gently guiding him down so she could place a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

A blush stained Woljif’s cheeks, but before he could say anything a polite cough drew both of their attention behind them.

The source was a familiar half-elf, dressed in the fine clothes and nervously glancing between the two of them. “Commander? Sir, um, Lord Jefto? Do you remember me?”

Ariadne nodded at the same time Woljif whispered, “Lord Jefto?”

“I-I’ve been promoted since we last met! Count Arendae has made me his herald, and that’s why I’m here. My first official duty is to extend an invitation to the two of you, to meet the Count at a secret and secluded rendezvous location.”

Ariadne and Woljif exchanged glances, both of their eyes full of questions. Before they could ask any of them, he continued, “I promise I’ll convey you both there with all the decorum that befits your rank! There is a carriage waiting just outside. Count Arendae is already at the rendezvous site, waiting for you. He also told me to tell you that if you’re wondering why he didn’t personally invite you, it’s because you all are important people, and communicating through heralds and servants is how things are done!”

“Oh really?” The servant paled at the obvious displeasure in Ariadne’s voice.

“What’d ya think, Chief? We gonna take him up on it?”

“Of course we are. I know you’re just as curious as I am, and I was hoping to…spend time with the two of you tonight anyways.” Ariadne didn’t bother to hide the mischievous grin that played on her lips. “I don’t know about you, though, but I intend to continue giving him a piece of my mind face to face. Starting right now.”

[bapydemonprincess]

Long after that terrible event of Sebastian learning his human imitation body could create tears, even if via forced by an outside source like mustard gas, the demon contemplated and then thought on how perhaps... with his appearance.. and all it entailed.. he could use tears to his advantage in some situations. 😈

Just think.. a hard working butler, working day and night with a small staff in a manor, working for such a cold bratty little boy and the issues he acquired from the terrible things he likely went through.. NOBODY ELSE to depend on.. And also... a very pretty pale dark haired man.. usually very efficient. Usually so perfect.

But what if one day things went wrong.. all his hard work.. his struggle to be the best and lead the other servants and care for this boy... AND THINGS GO WRONG and some way like say..

They're arrested for fraud.. They need to answer a lot of questions about what they had been doing the past few years taking over the Phantomhive family and-

The butler, while being questioned by the police.. starts to tear up. Trembling. His attempts to answer them turning to mumbles as he seems to grow scared and ... and emotional..

"I.. I merely wanted.." he whimpers, head bowed, "t-to do my very best for my young master.. th-this boy.. this poor boy.. I was the only one there for him for the longest time, you see, and-and I just.. I went along with his plans.. did everything he said to the letter! I.. I knew of the legacy of his family and I knew if-if I, as the new Phantomhive butler couldn't handle raising and protecting a.. a child then... then...

"W-WHAT KIND OF BUTLER WOULD I BE?? *SOB*"

....

Cops: Mr. M-Michaelis please we need ya to...

*Looks up with the prettiest, saddest eyes for a man they've ever seen*

Cops, blushing: U-Uh... er...

"I.... I.... I JUST WANTED... T-TO BE ONE HELL OF A BUTLER!!!"

[holybatgirlz]

Throwing Stones | Benophie Week 2024

read on ao3 here

Summary: Benedict tries to use his own advice to get Sophie’s attention. Suffice to say, it doesn’t work.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

For a moment Sophie thought it was raining.

As she slowly came back to awareness, blinking awake, Sophie saw that not only was it still night out, her room shrouded in darkness, but that the tapping sound coming from the window wasn’t due to rain. 

Was someone throwing something at it?

Getting up, slowly, Sophie moved towards the window, passing by Emily, the other ladies’ maid who shared the room with her, who was still fast asleep on her bed. As she peered out the window, her eyes still getting used to the darkness, the moon was the only source of light outside.

Which allowed her to see the exact cause of why she’d been woken up in the middle of the night, after a long day of chasing the youngest Bridgerton daughter around the house.  

Benedict.

He was standing five feet away from her window, a window which it should be noted was on the ground floor of the Bridgerton’s Number 5 home. A handful of small pebbles from the garden was in one of his hands and a smug, crooked smile on his face as he swayed from side to side. 

He was drunk. Because of course he was. 

Sophie took a deep, long breath, stealing her composure, before she undid the latch and pushed the window open.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, exhausted.

“Declaring my love!” Benedict replied loudly, almost shouting as he threw his arms out. Some of the pebbles in hand slipped out and fell to the ground. 

“Quiet!” Sophie hissed quickly, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder towards Emily. 

Sophie had learned her roommate was a far deeper sleeper than she was, and she prayed Emily would stay fast asleep while she dealt with the drunken Romeo stumbling around outside her window. 

Holding her breath, Sophie waited, watching as Emily only took a deep breath, before turning over in her bed, so her back was to Sophie, as she continued to sleep soundly. 

“Declaring my love to the most beautiful woman in all of London !” Benedict then shouted outside and Sophie could feel herself the panic rising within her.

“Shh, Benedict! Shut up! You will wake the entire house,” she snapped, leaning out of the window to reprimand him. “Not to mention. We’re on the ground floor! Why on earth are you throwing rocks?!”

“Because I needed you to see you,” Benedict whined, swaying listlessly. “I miss you.” 

“You saw me this morning,” she reminded him flatly. 

“It’s been too long since then. I miss you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you are beautiful.”

“And now I am going to bed. Good night, Romeo,” Sophie replied, moving to close the window. But her nickname seemed to have given Benedict an idea as he stumbled around, his crooked smile widening. 

“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” he said with a gasp as he stumbled back, slapping a hand to his chest. “It is the east, and Sophie is the sun.”

Sophie merely rolled her eyes in response, exasperated by this point with his behavior. Of course he’d start quoting Shakespeare. 

“You need to get out of here,” she told him. “Before someone else sees you.” 

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon. Who is already sick and pale with grief. That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she,” Benedict continued as she realized there was no way he would willingly leave.

Resigning herself to having to play mother to the fatwit outside her window, Sophie hastily, but quietly, slipped out of her room to fetch him. Heading down the corridor to the kitchen, where the servants door that led out to the garden was. She grabbed a knitted shawl on her way out, to protect her against the cool summer night.

Rounding the corner and she found Benedict exactly where she’d left him, still drunkenly quoting Shakespeare to her empty window. And when Benedict spotted her, realizing she’d reappeared outside with him, he gasped dramatically.

“It is my lady, O, it is my love!” he said giddy as she approached, throwing his hand out towards her. “O, that she knew she were!”

He then stumbled forward, almost falling straight onto his face had Sophie rushed to catch him. She almost didn’t, more than welcomed to stand by and watch him make an ass out of himself, but she was too kind of a person to not help.

Finding himself held up by her, his sly crooked smile reappeared as he chuckled. Sophie tried not to roll her eyes at him, only shaking her head at his antics.

“You need to go to bed,” she told him.

“I will only if it's in yours,” Benedict said, trying to put on a seductive tone but all Sophie could smell was whiskey on his breath.

Her face scrunched up. “Because I would want you in my bed when you smell like the inside of a distillery?” 

Benedict pouted, rather adorably if it was not also simultaneously childish. He was acting like a fool, a fool she needed to hide. To get inside before someone else came to investigate the noise.

And she had no idea where to put him. His lodgings were only a few blocks away, but even at an hour like this, someone would still notice them, and it would be a struggle to drag his drunken form the three blocks to his apartment. But she couldn’t just leave him to sleep on the streets or in the garden. As much as she wanted to.

The only other option she had was to shove him into his room upstairs. One of the guest rooms Violet left available for him whenever he needed to use it.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him along. “Let’s get you inside.” 

“You’re so excited all the time…it’s kind of adorable,” Benedict slurred.

“Please shut up,” Sophie hissed as she pushed him towards the door. 

“And your hair is so pretty. Your curls’ perfect. So are your eyes. And your smile,” Benedict said, listing her attributes as he was shoved closer and closer towards the servant’s door. 

“Uh-huh,” she remarked flatly as they stepped into the kitchen. 

“You’re pretty and kind and smart and you speak three languages,” Benedict pointed out as she quickly moved him through the kitchen and towards the servants' stairs.

“I speak two languages, Benedict,” she corrected. “I never learned Greek fluently. Only French and Latin.”

“Well, that’s still more than me,” he told her as he stumbled up the stairs. 

Sophie had to grip the back of his jacket as he tripped over his feet. The servants’ stairs were smaller and cramped, not built for someone of Benedict’s height that he ended up bumping his head on the low hanging ceiling as they went up, making Sophie grimace as he cursed. 

“Why is the house shrinking?” he asked her as they got to the top of the stairs, where he once again hit his head on the door frame. “Ow.” 

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Sophie whispered. 

Benedict continued to stumble as they moved down the hallway, slumping against the wall as they made it to the door of the guest room she was going to deposit him in. He waited as Sophie opened it, watching her fondly as she did. 

“You are so pretty,” he repeated again gently. 

“You said that already,” she told him dismissively as she opened the door. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”

She gently led him into the room, as if escorting a small child to bed, forced to do all the hard work and heavy lifting. Wasn’t as if she hadn’t done this before with Benedict. The only difference this time was that he was piss drunk instead of delirious from fever, and they’d been alone in My Cottage. Not at risk of anyone waking and discovering them as she led him up here.

“Alright, let’s get you out of this jacket,” she said as she pushed him onto the bed, so he was sitting on top of the covers. “And under the covers.”

Instead of doing as she asked, Benedict leaned back on his hands and looked up at her. She could only see the drunk smile on his face due to the silver moonlight shining in through the window. 

“What?” she asked him. 

“Stay with me,” he requested lightly once more.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is your mother’s house. Someone will walk in and discover us.”

“Sophie,” Benedict whined, pouting again. 

He sat up, taking her hand in his and gently pulling her towards him. Sophie only sighed, letting out a long breath as she let him pull her so that she was standing between his legs. The feel of him burned, even as he gently rubbed his thumbs over the tops of her hands. 

“No, Benedict,” she told him gently, almost despondent. Why couldn't he just accept that.

He sighed, pressing his forehead against her stomach. “This is torture.”

She couldn’t help but agree. 

“I know,” she said softly. 

All she wanted was to be near him. Be with him. Their time together in Wiltshire, at My Cottage, may have been short but had also become the best period of her life, second only to the night she first met Benedict. 

And she couldn’t help it, she slipped one of her hands from his and brought it up to Benedict’s head, gently pushing her fingers through the dark strands and over his scalp, making him sigh. Benedict only responded by bringing her other hand up to his face, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss over her knuckles, before he titled his head back to look up at her. 

“I could give you everything,” he whispered. “If you just said yes.”

Sophie closed her eyes and sighed, her hand dropping from his head and to her sigh. 

“You need to go to bed,” she told him once more.

“Why won’t you say yes?” Benedict asked and she knew what it was he was asking about.  

“You know why,” she replied simply. She’d said it a thousand times by now. She would not be his mistress. 

Benedict let out a breath, a soft, despondent one as his shoulders slumped, but Sophie wouldn’t change her mind.

“You need to go to sleep,” she told him, gently starting to pull his jacket off. Benedict relented easily enough. 

She helped him out of his jacket, loosened his cravat so he could pull it off, before tending to his shoes, taking them off one at a time and placing them next to the bed. She took the jacket and cravat and placed them on the nearby chair, while Benedict unbuttoned his vest and pulled it off. Then promptly fell back onto the bed.

His eyes were closed, but he wasn't yet asleep. Close to it, but not yet. Sophie could see his chest slowly rise and fall as his body relaxed, while she folded up his vest neatly and placed it on the chair with his jacket.

"Good night, Benedict," she told him gently as she headed towards the door.

"I love you Sophie," he slurred out as she passed the bed. He should probably pull his legs up onto the bed as well, but Sophie did not think it beneficial to help him with that.

As she opened the door, she spared him one last glance over the shoulder.

"Love you too," she gently whispered, and closed the door behind her.

[kataraavatara]

WIP Wednesday- Those the Stars Cannot Hear

for all ten people reading my fic, here is an excerpt from chapter 2:

“I went to the trouble of getting actual wood for you, you know. You could at least speak to me.” At Nesta’s perplexed look, she added, “Ah, right. You’re from the Above World. Down here, we’re encased in a mountain and perpetual darkness. Not exactly the ideal environment for trees to grow. Wood is precious. If you were with someone who was poorer or didn’t care about making a good impression for you, they would be burning peat, moss, or dung right now. I would like you to know I’m trying to put my best foot forward here. Do you have an aversion to fire?”

After a moment, Nesta nodded. She didn’t tell Anu why, but the mere fact that she had noticed made something inside her stir, happy to be recognized, to be seen. At Solstice, they had a roaring fire and not one person had noticed her flinch. Cassian had lit a fire every night on the hike and had never wondered why she slept so far away from it, why she covered her ears.

Anu sipped her tea. “Ah.” She signaled servants who quickly put out the fire, shrouding the room in darkness and smoke, the only light source being the pale blue fae lights mounted on the walls. She politely fanned away the smoke from the newly extinguished hearth, silently handing Nesta an embellished fan that was a twin to her own. The soft whoosh of their combined fans waving filled the silence for a few moments before Anu asked, “Why are you here, Nesta Archeron?”

we meet my oc Anu, my exploration of Mor mentioning she has cousins trapped in loveless and brutal marriages and then like. glossing over it. Anu is an Irish goddess name related to Morrigan, and Mag Aedha is (apparently according to google) an ancient Celtic surname.