#to just. not even sleeping. never mind in a room surrounded by reminders of people who care for her just. trancing. while riding.

[nelyoslegalteam]

hello i'm here again! i saw your tags on the get to know your characters post and i'd love to hear you talk about murdoc!! (also gondolin campaign 😮 tell me more :DDD )

HIHIHIHIHI IM SO HAPPY YOU'RE IN MY INBOX THANK YOU FOR LOVING MY BOY YOU ARE A GIFT OF A PERSON ;w; i assume you don't mind if i answer these for murdoc then :0

What is the character’s go-to drink order? here's the thing: i think if murdoc is ordering, it's ale. just ale. murdoc is an alcohol snob, largely on account of being a hobbit AND specifically on account of his aunt being a brewer (and so therefore clearly HIS family's ale is the best), so it's an opportunity for him to be just a little bit showily snobbish and judgy and more knowledgeable about his choice of drink than the average patron, but it's not quite so personal to him as, say, tea would be. (murdoc never orders tea. from anywhere. he only drinks his own, or radagast's, or that of a few other trusted friends. tea is his craft. it's personal to him. he picks and dries and blends the herbs for his own brews. it's personal long before he even gets to brewing a cup, and there's meaning in just that act in and of itself already.) so, murdoc gets to be an alcohol snob in public, but it's a matter of showing off for fun. he'll scoff at ale from anywhere but his own inn, but he'll still order it and drink it. and enjoy it more than he puts on a show about.

What is their grooming routine? murdoc likes a long bath. murdoc likes to put a lot of effort into wrangling his hair in particular, when he has the time and effort in him for it. alone, at the inn, where he can rest and take breaks and manage things, shaving the back of his neck is very important to him (sensory comfort, and tied in a way to his sense of self). he doesn't like scents or anything of the sort, he just wants to feel... clean. put-together. both in the privacy and comfort of their respective homes, and while out on the road, letting ríros braid his hair for him becomes a very important part of murdoc's grooming routine. on a good day, it's a visible tie to someone he cares deeply for. on a bad day, it's accepting help with his sensory needs and energy levels, and allowing himself to be taken care of by someone he trusts.

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? oh, murdoc's cloak was ABSOLUTELY the most expensive singular thing he's ever purchased. it may not be real dragon scale, sure but. it's a fine fabric, and the faux scales are well crafted and gorgeous. it's luxurious and sturdy and him in every way. an item with presence. which, to the point, i do think murdoc is generally the sort of person who spends his disposable income on fine things to wear. having fun with and taking pride in his appearance is important to him, and he's financially comfortable enough for that bit of luxury.

Do they have any scars or tattoos? aside from the missing hand (extremely notable), and whatever assorted and unspecified scars he's picked up from adventuring? (which. he has. he's come close to dying before. he's got a few marks.) murdoc has a scar across his nose from some absolutely stupid shit he got up to as an utter hellion of a child. i think he probably fell and bashed his face open running to escape getting caught pulling a prank on farmer maggot or something like that. nothing angsty about it, just complete and utter childhood stupidity and rambunctiousness. something visible left on him from a time before he was overly concerned with responsibility, or duty of care, and entertaining his drive for adventure in much less consequential ways. (he’s also very freckled. i think it’s very adorable how much he freckles.)

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? the last time i know for certain that murdoc cried, was after facing irmo. maybe not immediately. maybe much later, on the road home, having spilled the story to his companions and having thoroughly exhausted himself from hanging onto it all. but i'm sure he did cry. from anger at what was done to him, to his dreams, by a power larger than him, without any say of his own in it all. from all his internalization of himself as a weapon finally breaking over, from hearing that perception of himself lovingly rebuffed by the people who care about him. from fully and completely admitting that he's afraid of the person he's made himself in the face of the horrors, but that he would've hated the person he would have been for ignoring them. from exhaustion. from having to question his sense of self yet again. from a lot of things, really. you don't get personally chosen by a god and come away from it quite the same.

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? oh murdoc is an eldest sibling and it shows. maybe not by actual sibling birth order, but he was adopted by his uncles and aunt as a baby and very much raised as their eldest child. he's got two rascals of younger cousins, raised alongside him, to look out for. they're practically younger siblings from an actual family dynamics standpoint. and besides, he's got all the Eldest Child of being the brandybuck family heir apparent put on him. where else would the responsibility complex and the duty of care complex and the possessiveness over what's his and, most importantly, go-to instinct of sassing the literal servants of sauron have come from? This Man Is An Eldest Child And He Can Do This All Day <3

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. none. Those Feet Are Bare. and hairy. he DOES meticulously wash and brush his foot hair though. but listen. he's a hobbit. he's not FROM a culture that does shoes, and the one (1) time in his life ever that he had to wear them, his only takeaway from the experience is that they are a sensory nightmare that he will not be subjecting himself to under ANY circumstances.

Describe the place where they sleep. ooohhhh i think both at home in the inn and also to the greatest extent on the road possible, murdoc does cozy. i think his (+ his partner's) room at the inn is covered in like. throw pillows. nice big comfy sleeping pillows. lots of soft blankets. it's all very warm and inviting and kinda maximalist in a plush sort of way. i do think he cares about aesthetics and all his pillows and blankets look nice together, but everything is selected with comfort in mind. it's homey. it's warm. he's a hobbit. it's probably not particularly neat, but it's sort of charming in the way where it looks like a space that's meant to be curled up in. he probably accidentally leaves a few stray tea mugs about and this is his worst living space habit, but it adds to the charm as long as he remembers to actually keep up on putting them away (which. he does. he's just on top of it enough to make sure he has clean mugs to actually use for tea, but this may be the only reason he remembers). i think even on the road he'll bring as many blankets as is reasonable to carry and do his utmost not only to make his sleeping space, but the whole camp's, as cozy and welcoming as possible with whatever he has.

What is their favorite holiday? ohh see i don't know if i do know enough about specific hobbitish holidays offhand for this, but in general i do think murdoc is a holidays kind of person. anything sort of extrovert-oriented, where he can feast and dance and get drunk and just be around people, is very much his sort of thing. when he was growing up in the shire, any occasion where gandalf showed up with fireworks was an immediate favorite. for least favorite... i don't know how he feels about new year's (yule, in the hobbitish calendar). i don't think he hates it but. i think he's someone who lives with a bit of a sense of loss over who he was, or might have been, before his dreams and irmo and everything, and i think nostalgia-oriented celebrations grate just slightly up against that.

What objects do they always carry around with them? tea. lots of it. kept in his pockets. (he smells like it. it’s nice.) usually a particular brew (the flavor profile of which i imagine to be something like london fog) that he made for himself, which is very personal to him. a locket with his partner's portrait in it. an ornately carved matchbox, always full of matches, ready to light an arrow or for whatever else he may use his fire for. additionally, on the road: a jar in which he cultivates a toxic fungus, used for coating his weapons in tough battles. a set of his favorite cooking knives. a flask or two of his family’s ale, primarily used in his cooking, as ornate and pretty as all else he owns. (i will also give him that he most always is wearing jewelry, particularly his ruby necklace and earring set. the necklace in particular is important - usually maedhros resides in ríros’ sword, but the necklace is an ideal secondary vessel on the occasions that maedhros does have to remain where murdoc is, and murdoc has selected these pieces in maedhros’ colors for a reason).

as this has gotten LONG i will not try to do them for my new beloved tyelperëkko antar JUST yet. BUT @jaz-the-bard is planning to run a campaign set in gondolin in the first age and i am VERY excited for the character i have made. i’ve given them the oathsworn background. they’re going to be a loyal follower of maeglin, once he exists, but for NOW they’re a devotee of turgon. this is going to go great for them and cause no problems at all (lying).

[wholoveseggs]

Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

[zaldritzosrose]

Lose Control (Aegon x Niece!Reader)

Summary: Aegon knew it would never work. But did he care? Of course not. You were one of few members of his family who didn't look at him like he was a failure. Was it love? He didn't know. But he never felt whole without you.

(Based on Lose Control by Teddy Swims)

TW: She/Her pronouns, canon-typical incest (uncle x niece), afab reader, alcohol consumption, alcoholism, oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 2,985

kēlītsos = little cat, kitten

I apologise now, but this isn't a 'happy' ending.

Something's got a hold of me lately. No, I don't know myself anymore.

You were off limits, Aegon knew that. The fact had been drilled into him by his mother time after time. His niece, the only one who looked at him with some modicum of love or affection. He didn’t know if you felt the same, but he could pretend every time you would smile at him, or your hands would linger against his just a moment longer than needed.

But how could he not want you? You were beautiful. He didn’t care about the rumours that surrounded your parentage. Those dark curls, eyes so brown they could be mistaken for black. All the things that people used to paint you a bastard, he found to be the most beautiful things in the world.

His thoughts were consumed by you, even when you weren’t around. Everything reminded him of you.  The more he thought of you, the more he remembered he couldn’t have you and the further he sank into his cups. 

The day you left for Dragonstone with your mother had broken him beyond belief. Wine and whores barely fill the void you left behind.

Feels like the walls are all closin' in. And the devil's knockin' at my door, whoa… Out of my mind, how many times. Did I tell you I'm no good at bein' alone?

Aegon stumbled back into his chambers. The third night this week that he’d spent drowning his sorrows in some dingy tavern. Word had come that your mother was returning to King’s Landing with you and your brothers. The petitions for the seat at Driftmark were to be heard, and your brother Lucerys’ claim was being questioned.

Aegon would see you again, and it terrified him. 

He was embarrassed of the kind of man he’d become in your absence. A drunk, chasing whatever skirt he could. Fear set in, knowing you’d see him like this.

The morning of your return had come, but Aegon couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed. He was a mess in so many ways. The scent of wine still lingered on his breath and skin from the night before. Sun streamed in through his window, and he quickly sunk back under his sheets.

But his peace was short lived, the door to his chambers slamming open and the harsh words of his mother filling the room. Aegon groaned, it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time his mother would ever berate him this way. But he was in no mood for it.

The sound of her admonishments faded to muffled noise as Aegon tried to rub the sleep from his features. But his actions seemed to only antagonise her more. Heavy limbs rolled from his bed, gripping the sheet around his body as he stood.

His mother’s tirade stopped at his movement, her words faltering.

“I will not apologise, for it falls on deaf ears. Now if you don’t mind, I fear I require a bath.” 

Aegon grumbled, wanting nothing more than to escape Alicent’s harsh words.

He ignored anything else that came from her lips, walking away and towards his thankfully, already filled bath.

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

You didn’t want to be here. None of your memories of the Red Keep were particularly fond. Well, save for a few. The times spent with your uncle, Aegon, would always bring a smile to your face when you thought of them. When he would sneak to your chambers, cakes in hand, demanding you come to the gardens with him. Why?

Because he missed you.

Back then, you thought little of it, simply thinking your uncle was being kind, as an uncle should be. But when you think of those moments now? Heat filled your belly and a blush bloomed on your cheeks. The evenings spent curled up next to him beneath a tree in the royal gardens, lips sticky from the cakes he always brought, his arms wrapped tight around you and your head on his chest. Those moments had seemed so innocent then.

The reactions of your mother told you now, that they were not. The way your mother had demanded you stop sneaking out in the evenings with him – how spending time alone with any boy in such a way was unbecoming. 

But Aegon was the only one who didn’t tease you about your dark hair and eyes – you knew the rumours well enough. Instead, he told you how pretty you were. Comparing your eyes to embers and your hair to the finest chocolate. 

Now, you stood at Jace’s side, listening to your mother talk to some lord or another. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to sneak off to find Aegon.” Jace whispered, only earning an eye roll from you. Your brother was one of few aware of just how much time you had once spent with Aegon.

Luckily for you, he’d never told your mother. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, the moment she’d forbade you from spending time with your uncle, you had stopped. Instead, you had simply hidden your meetings better. Swearing your brother to secrecy when he caught you one night.

You ignored Jace’s comment because no answer you gave would keep that smirk off his face. Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, your mother turned and gave you and your brothers permission to spend some time to yourselves before the petitions. You didn’t miss the sideways glance Jace gave you as you hurried away.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

He was washed, dressed, the alcohol feeling like it was seeping out of his skin as he wandered through the corridors. He had no destination in mind, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his bed. But he also had no desire to listen to another of his mother’s verbal lashings against him . And even more so, he was terrified of seeing you.

Would you hate him as he is now? Would you be embarrassed of him?

Aegon was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming towards him, his eyes trained solely on the stone floor before him. So, when he collided with the soft form of another person, he was knocked near off balance. As he scrambled to stay upright, he was greeted with a very familiar head of deep brown waves.

“Uncle?” 

Your voice. A voice he had imagined hearing time and time again for the past six years. But when you said his name, he finally met your gaze. The faintest of smiles finding his lips, while his eyes remained just a little glazed from the wine he’d already consumed.

You were here. You were here and you were as beautiful as ever. The deep red of your gown makes those warm curls even deeper in colour. It was only when he felt your hand on his arm that he realised he hadn’t spoken a word.

“Do I render you speechless still?” you smiled; your hand rested on his forearm.

“Always, kēlītsos.” He smiled, watching you blush at the name.

Kitten, so called for the way you always used to curl up next to him, safe under his arm. A sweet name that now had your cheeks hot. It was the way he said it, voice lower than you remembered. But you could smell the faint scent of wine on his breath, and you now realised that the stories of his love of alcohol were true.

Six years had changed you both in more ways than one.

Problematic. Problem is I want your body like a fiend, like a bad habit. Bad habits hard to break when I'm with you.

Aegon hadn’t paid attention to a single word spoken during the petitions. He could care less about who inherited Driftmark. His eyes never left you. He didn’t care who saw him staring. He didn’t care if you saw him staring. Seeing you again had awoken every feeling for you he’d once had. And then some. 

He’d ignored his mother when she demanded he leave the wine alone. He couldn’t handle court sober, never mind having to stay away from you. Now, the room swayed just a little, but the fog on his brain was a welcome distraction from you.

The petitions had gone as well as expected – if seeing Lord Vaemond beheaded was expected. The whole family was on edge, but Aegon was comfortably in a wine induced calm.

So, when you walked in, arms linked with Jace, he had little control of the expression on his face. Disgust at the sight of you so close to your brother, a closeness that had once been reserved for only him. He filled his cup again, no amount of wine in the world would likely make him feel better now.

You sat in the only available seat, between Jace and Aegon. You tried to catch your uncle’s gaze, but he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you and it made you feel ever so slightly hurt. Had you done something to upset him?

Problematic. Problem is when I'm with you, I'm an addict.

The supper ended swiftly the moment your brother hit Aemond, provoked of course. The two princes had never been close. You stood with your mother; fists clenched as you watched Aegon pin Luke to the table. There was no love lost between the uncles and nephews, but seeing Aegon treat Luke that way infuriated you.

You stormed from the hall, ignoring the shout of your mother. It was only then that Aegon released Luke, shoving the boy away and drunkenly hurrying after you.

He’d fucked up and he knew it. 

He could hear the clack of your boots on the stones, and he knew where you’d be going. The gardens. Your haven, one you once shared with him.

“I don’t appreciate being followed, uncle.” you called out, stopping just short of the entrance to the garden. 

Aegon was quick to stop behind you, the wine making him unsteady. But he wasn’t going to miss this chance to have you alone.

“You are drunk, Aegon.” 

The accusation, while true, hurt coming from you. Embarrassment flooded him as he tried to find an excuse. But the words went silent on his tongue. He was drunk, yes, but not as drunk as you seemed to think he was.

“It is a common occurrence for you now, I hear. Wine and whores?” Your voice wasn’t as angry as he expected, but having you know such things about him made him sick.

“Nothing more than distractions for a life that is quite tedious.” Aegon replied, doing his best to hold your gaze, blue meeting brown for the first time truly in six years.

“And what makes your life so tedious, I am sure there are many who would revel in the life of a prince.” You answered, turning to continue your walk to the garden, knowing he would follow.

And follow he did, wanting nothing more now than to be in your presence. A presence he’d missed. A presence he’d craved for six years. Even if you seemed frustrated.

“You know exactly what…” he snapped back, the wine loosening his tongue just a little. There was a chance this would be the last time he’d see you, knowing the state of the family, and he wasn’t going to waste a moment.

“Six years without you, kēlītsos, has been a very long time.” 

You stiffened at that. Was he blaming his problems on you? You stopped dead, turning on your heel to face him, watching as he stumbled when he stopped short of colliding with you.

“And you think it has been easy on me?” Your words came out quieter than you thought, your anger failing as you saw the sadness in his eyes, eyes that had once seemed so bright now seemed sallow and hollow.

“I did not want to leave. My home is here, with you.”

Aegon froze, chewing on the skin of his lip. Any anger he’d felt slipped away almost instantly. You hadn’t wanted to go. Those words sparked the smallest ember of hope in him. Maybe, just maybe, you felt as he did.

“I have spent every moment of those six years missing you.”

He heard nothing else, the wine in his belly fuelling his emotions beyond his control. His rough hands finding your cheeks, pulling you to him as he kissed you. The kiss was messy but reciprocated. Mere seconds passed before you curled a hand into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him tight against you. A kiss filled with years of love, passion… and lust. Aegon’s hands moved from your cheeks to your waist, pressing his body against yours as he backed you towards a nearby wall. Thankfully the gardens were quiet in the evenings.

You only pulled away to catch your breath, remembering quickly that Aegon had been drinking. As had you, but Aegon had consumed far more than you had.

“You are drunk, Aegon…” 

“Not so much that I am unable to think clearly.” He replied, wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.

His hands played with the fabric of your gown, keeping your body pinned between his and the wall. He couldn’t let you go, not now. Not without knowing if you felt as he had all this time.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will go.” He whispered, his forehead now resting against yours.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t because it would be easier down the line. Easier to lie and break his heart now than be truthful and have to leave him again. But you did. By the gods, you did. While you’d loved him for longer than you could remember, love was not on your mind at this moment.

“I want this…I want you. I always have.” Your breath fanned across his lips as you spoke, body inching closer on instinct. 

Aegon closed the distance, his kiss gentle though his hands now gripped your waist hard. The red fabric now fisted tight in his hands as he slipped his thigh between your own. Your body responded naturally, heat flooding you as his lips slid down to your jaw then your neck. He knew he couldn’t go so far as to take your virtue, but he needed something.

And I need some relief, my skin in your teeth. Can't see the forest through the trees. Got me down on my knees, darlin' please, oh…

Your breath hitched as he bunched your gown in his hands, fingers pressed against the fabric of your small clothes. A touch you’d only dreamt about. Wondering what it would feel like to have him touch you so intimately.

The reality had your mouth dry and your flesh searing. Hips canting to meet the deft movements of his fingers. His face buried in your neck as you sighed out in pleasure. You shouldn’t be doing this, and you knew it. All you could focus on was pleasure, not right and wrong. Your own hand soon found the hard length in the front of his breeches, palming him slowly.

Aegon wanted nothing more than to feel you. To commit those soft sounds to memory. To feel your skin on his.

“Aegon…” you breathed, your hands finding the mess of silver waves atop his head.

His name had never sounded so perfect, and he wanted to hear it again. His hands kept a grip on your waist as he dropped to his knees before you, ignoring the confused glance you shot down to him. You soon had your answer when his nose brushed against the fabric of your small clothes, his hand gripping your thigh as he lifted it over his shoulder.

“What are you-“ your words fell silent as he mouthed at you through your undergarments, his name a moan falling from your lips.

Your hand found his hair again, wanting nothing more than for him to keep going. And when his fingers tugged the fabric aside, bearing your flesh to him, all sense was lost.

“So delicious, my sweet girl,” he cooed, licking a hot stripe between your folds.

No man had ever touched you this way, and you wanted no other man but Aegon to touch you this way again. A dream, of course, but one you wanted so desperately. And he lapped at you like a man starved, groaning against your skin at the taste of you, the sound enough to have pleasure shooting up your spine.

And soon the knot in your belly snapped, hands tightening in his hair as you panted his name. Aegon only stopped his ministrations when you pushed him away. With a final kiss to your inner thigh, he stood.

“You are mine, kēlītsos, and you always have been.”

I lose control. When you're not next to me (when you're not here with me). I'm fallin' apart right in front of you, can't you see?

Morning had come. You didn’t remember returning to Aegon’s chambers but that was where you woke. Wrapped in his arms and feeling safer than ever. It would not last. It never did. Shouts from outside the door told you that. And the door crashing open, revealing the furious face of your mother made it crystal clear to Aegon.

You were off limits. He knew that. He’d hoped it would change. But when morning came, the harsh words directed at you by your mother told you it never would. And his dreams become nightmares as you leave him again.

I lose control. When you're not next to me, mm-hm. Yeah, you're breakin' my heart, baby. You make a mess of me.

[nadvs]

so sorry for sending so many requests but this just popped into my head. in the swte universe, in their college days, i feel like the reader isn't a huge fan of drinking or she doesn't get as pissed as rafe at least. so what if she gets completely drunk one night, being clingy to rafe, maybe people flirt with her because she's without rafe and he comes to "rescue her"? idk just sth like that🤍🤍🤍🤍

never be sorry, ily and your ideas are always so good 🥹 YES omg rafe has no impulse control so he gets hammered on the reg, whereas she’s not one to get too crazy… most of the time 🤭

i’m a sucker for angst so i just had to make it when they’re fwb and he’s already fallen for her while she still just assumes they’re just friends (and this is the night she starts to think of him as something more) 👀

based on this fic

» au masterlist

she cannot pay attention to the guy talking to her. she’s too dazed. she hasn’t eaten much today. she’s running on only a few hours of sleep. and the coolers she drank were so sugary that she didn’t even realize how much alcohol she was consuming. this is the drunkest she’s been in ages.

this guy’s hitting on her. she can tell by the way his eyes trail down her body every so often, his head tilted as he rambles on about something. what was his name again?

she nods along, trying to follow his words while loud music surrounds them. she doesn’t even remember how they started talking.

rafe moved in to this house with his teammates just last weekend and tonight, they’re hosting their first party. the front room is crowded and stuffy and she’s getting dangerously close to feeling sick.

she’d rather hang out with rafe right now. but when she arrived, he pulled her in a friendly hug and pointed her to the drinks, then continued talking to the girl he was already in conversation with.

he’s probably trying to hook up with her and she doesn’t want to be a shitty friend, cockblocking him simply because she’s craving some familiarity.

“…too much work, you know what i mean?” the guy says.

“yeah,” she says, no idea what she just agreed to. she looks around. “did you see any water around here?”

“we can try the kitchen?” he offers.

rafe spots her crossing through the crowd. the guy who she’s been talking to, so obviously into her that he’s embarrassing himself, is following her. she doesn’t seem all that happy that he’s trailing her.

he’s been talking to this girl to try to get out of the fog that sank over him not that long ago. while he was getting ready tonight, all he could think about was the girl who’s supposed to just be his best friend.

she’s always on his mind. when he wakes up. when he goes to bed. during classes. during practice. it’s so bad that even when he’s with her, he’s dreading her leaving.

rafe turns his attention back to the girl talking his ear off. he needs to distract himself. he’s starting to see his best friend as more than a friend, has been for a while now, and it’s fucking agony. she could not be clearer about not wanting a relationship.

and he doesn’t want one, either. he needs to remind himself of that.

but as they round the corner into the kitchen, he sees the guy’s hand rest on the small of her back. it makes rafe’s blood boil.

she opens the fridge. it’s practically empty.

“this has to be a joke,” she mumbles, dizzy at this point.

she swings the door shut and looks up at the guy who’s been following her. at this point, she just wants to get rid of him and find rafe. she can apologize for cockblocking him later.

thankfully, she doesn’t have to. rafe pays no mind to the guy clearly trying to get in her pants, putting himself between them. he ducks, lowering so he can speak in her ear.

“you alright?” rafe asks.

“a house full of athletes and you don’t have any water?” she slurs.

rafe smirks when her hand drags over his. it’s so damn nice when she touches him, especially when it’s subconscious like this. he pulls back just enough to meet her eyes.

then, he turns to the guy who should be able to tell he’s a third wheel at this point.

“we’re good,” rafe says, cocking his head in a way to dismiss him.

irritation flashes over his face. but he’s not moving.

“can you not take a hint?” rafe snips. “she’s not interested.”

rafe isn’t sure if that last part is true, but he hopes it is. it works. he sighs and steps away, pissed off but likely not about to start a fight with the guy known for his aggression.

he turns his attention back to her. he’s revelling in the fact that her hand is still cupping his. her palm is so nice and soft and it’s making his chest go warm.

“how much did you drink?” he asks, the amused smile on his face returning.

“too much,” she admits.

rafe leans over, opening a cupboard to grab a plastic water bottle, then grips her hand tighter.

“come on,” he says. he leads her upstairs to his bedroom, away from the noise and stuffiness of the crowd.

once he shuts the door behind them, the chaos from downstairs muffled, she already feels less overwhelmed.

she’s been in here once before. they hooked up in this bed a few nights ago. she can still remember the way his mouth felt on her neck.

rafe leads her to his bed, sitting her on the edge while he kneels on the floor in front of her, and she’s overwhelmed all over again because of the way he’s looking at her, concern etched into his features.

she’s too drunk. she’s not thinking straight, because not only is she dizzy as hell, but as her eyes sweep over his face, all she can think about is how handsome he is, how good of a kisser he is, how nice it’d be to spend the rest of the night in his arms, like they’re a couple instead of just two people who hook up sometimes.

he twists the cap off the bottle for her. she takes long, slow sips. rafe settles on the bed beside her, watching her.

she lets out a slow breath once she’s drank enough. when she looks at him, she exhales a chuckle.

“why do you look so worried?” she says. “i’m not gonna die.”

rafe catches himself and glances away. this effect she has on him is insane. he’s never cared this much about anybody.

“just didn’t know you were this bad at holding your alcohol,” he says.

“i hate you,” she laughs. “but thanks for saving me.”

“saving you?”

“that guy would not shut up.” rafe hates how happy he is that she didn’t actually like him.

“about what?”

“i couldn’t tell you a single thing he said to me,” she confesses. he chuckles. “i was just thinking that i’m drunk as hell and want to hang out with you.”

that last part slipped out. she takes another sip of water just to have something to do. she expects him to give her shit for her soppy words. but he doesn’t.

“why didn’t you?” he asks.

“didn’t wanna cockblock. that girl you were talking to is pretty.”

she hopes in her drunkenness, she doesn’t sound jealous. because she realizes maybe, deep down, she is.

how could she not be? rafe turned out to be so much more than she expected. what she thought would be a one-time hook-up led her to her best friend. her best friend who happens to be hot and fun and unlike anyone she knows.

“she wouldn’t shut up, either,” rafe says. she laughs, sinking back across his bed.

“are we both just bad listeners?” she asks.

“i’m not.”

“right. you’re never the problem.”

he looks down at her. his cheeks are starting to ache from smiling.

“we should set them up,” she says, her eyelids heavy, legs hanging off the side of his bed. “they’d never run out of things to talk about.”

rafe thinks about how the same could be said for the two of them. conversations always come so easy.

she shuts her eyes and all he can think about is how cute she is. fuck, this is hard.

“what if i napped right now?” she mumbles. “would you be offended as the host of this party?”

“yeah,” he answers simply, because he’s quite honestly at a loss for words right now.

“okay, i’m gonna offend you then,” she says softly. “sorry.”

he nudges her knee.

“don’t sleep like that,” he says. “come on.”

she shifts to lie down on her side, smelling him on his pillow, feeling him put a cover over her. he’s treating her with such tender care that if she wasn’t so drunk, she’d be teasing him, asking who the hell he’s pretending to be, acting all sweet.

but she’s soaking in the feeling because it’s nice to pretend like this is more. she hopes it’s just the alcohol swimming through her that’s making her think this way.

she nuzzles into his pillow. rafe doesn’t say another word. he shuts off the lights and leaves. throughout the night, he comes back up every so often to check on her.

eventually, she wakes up and comes downstairs, feeling more coherent. the music is just worsening the headache she woke up with and she’s desperate to just get home already. she steps outside and books a ride on her phone.

rafe’s phone buzzes in his pocket. it’s a text from her.

thanks for taking care of me. i ordered a ride home and made your bed so i think we’re even

his heart sinks over the fact that she’s already gone.

he replies: we are not even

she texts back: i’m okay with not agreeing on this. goodnight :)

rafe stares at his screen with a small smile on his face, somewhere between happy and sad, before texting back: goodnight.

[the-guilty-writer]

Aaron x daughter!reader,

His daughter is a cane user and she has a bad day pain wise?

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Just like your father, you'd always been stoic, easily able to hide your pain from the outside world. It was something Aaron always had to keep in mind, how you'd push through and never speak a word about your discomfort. He'd always seen the characteristic in himself as a blessing, but in you he viewed it as a curse to himself.

There were times when you couldn't hide it, though. Usually you were well past a manageable pain level when it happened, and Aaron beat himself up for not noticing sooner. He'd never thought the hardest person to profile would be his own daughter, but apparently you were. People didn't see what you didn't want them to see, including your father.

Today, however, you'd reached your breaking point, hardly able to get out of bed, even with the help of your cane. You had tried, of course, but the gravity of your pain had been too much to bear. The sound of Jack's bare feet running past your door reminded you of the day to come, how your brother approached everything in stride with a smile on his face.

You tried your best to do the same, but you could only do what your body allowed.

A soft knock landed on your door and you called to invite whomever it was in.

"Morning, sweetheart." Your dad peeked his head through the door, his brow already furrowed with concern.

"G'morning," you mumbled out the words.

Aaron padded into the room, closing the door behind him. He stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw attention from Jack, who would have wanted to stay for the conversation.

Your dad sat down on the bed, running a gentle hand through your hair. The gesture was something he'd done since you were a little girl, one of calm and quiet understanding.

"Do you want to stay home today?" he asked.

"No." Truthfully, you didn't want to stay home. Want implied that it was something you could give or take, a choice. If you could have chosen to go to school, you would have, but your body didn't allow that kind of liberation.

"Do you need to stay home today?" Aaron re-phrased.

You didn't have the energy to speak this time, managing a slight nod.

"Okay." He kissed your forehead before exiting the room quietly.

As soon as he left, you fell into a state of half-sleep, unable to reach full rest due to the pain coursing through your body. It was like some sort of horribly sick joke that you needed sleep to aid the ache, yet it kept you from sleeping in the first place.

The sound of the front door opening, your dad talking to JJ, her leaving with the boys in tow, all happened in a haze. It was only when your dad’s footsteps ascended the stairs that you were able to pull yourself from the fog.

A quiet knock on the door brought you out of your head and into your body. Gentle footsteps sounded against the carpet until you felt the bed dip slightly, followed by a gentle hand tucking loose hairs away from your face.

You opened your eyes slowly, being met with resistance from your own body that so desperately wanted to block out the light. Pain made it difficult to process your surroundings, but once you did, the sight of your dad in his normal house clothes surprised you.

"Don't you have work?"

"Nope." He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Anderson is bringing me some files, but I'm staying home with you."

"You didn't have to do that." It came out as a painful whisper.

"I wanted to." Hotch reached for the bedside table, grabbing a cup with a straw. "Can you try just a little?"

He helped you prop yourself up against the pillows and held the straw to your lips. The taste of a fruit smoothie filled danced along your taste buds, and slowly but surely you were able to consume half the contents of the cup. When you were done, you pushed it away slightly and laid back down, your dad tucking you in just as the doorbell rang.

"I'll check on you in a bit. Promise to call if you need anything?" he asked.

You nodded your head, eyes already closed, mind in a half-sleep.

Hotch kissed you on the forehead gently and left the room, closing the door quietly so as to not disturb your rest. He could only hope that sleep (and pain medication) would allow you to begin the day again in a few hours.

[childeel]

"THE BLOOD OF ANOTHER."

✦ childe, diluc.

'when the blood of another stains his hands'

notes — mentions of murder, violence, angst / comfort.

childe ⟢

tartaglia is a fatui harbinger, he's familiar with gruesome violence, and faces it head-on regularly within his work. he 's taken more lives than he can count on fingers; and he tries not to think about it. hey, he's a harbinger — he 's just doing his job, if he needs to take a few people out on the way, then so be it; if it weren't them, then it was him — it 's just self defence. he tries to excuse himself, but he can't. how could a such a kind and innocent girl like you, end up with a man-made killing machine? he doesn't want that for you, he doesn't want your life to take the sudden turn that his did.

"do you ever wish things were different?" asks childe one night while you're both laid in bed together. your eyes are heavy, and your mind is beginning to tune out your surroundings. but childe is wide awake, his body is tense, and he's restless — and it's really pissing him off. your ear pressed against the beat of his heart, you quirk an eyebrow upwards. you're accustomed to tartaglia throwing questions at you in the dead of night, and so you don't think much of it at first. 'mm..? in what way?' you'd mumble back, slurring your words in a slight haze of sleepiness.

"just... y'know. the fact you ended up with me." he replies after a few moments of silence. his voice is monotone and dreary, but with your ear pressed so close to his chest, you can hear the slight shake in his breath. tartaglia will never be truly honest with you about his feelings, and so realistically, there's no point in asking him about it. tartaglia feels no need to share his negative emotions — he doesn't like vulnerability, and giving people an open chance to rip his heart right from his chest. and so, what it is that made this thought occur for him, was something that you could never be 100% sure about.

tartaglia doesn't want your pity, and you know that. your arms wrap tighter around his torso — pressing yourself closer into him, if you'd left any room between you to begin with. you lift your head that rests on his chest, your eyes desperately searching for his in the thick darkness of the room. your hand reaches to cup one side of his face, and your thumb traces over his bottom lip.

"no. that's never a thought that's even so much as crossed my mind," you begin, simply. one of his hands holds your own, and his other hovers on the lower of your back — and although you can't see them, you can feel your lover staring into you; drinking in every and any sense of you that he can. "whatever goes on in that, crazy, little mind of yours — it's not always right." you tell him, and you can hear him laugh softly. your voice becomes gentler, and you lower yourself, so that your lips barely brush against his own — "i love everything that makes you, you — no matter the reason, or the circumstances. id accept you in any way." you finish, pressing your lips forwards, capturing tartaglia's.

diluc ⟢

diluc has a dark past — one that will haunt him until his very last breath, every day is an aching reminder of those many years ago. his life was bleak and dull, he busied himself with work, his nightly duties; he could go days without sleeping — purely out of choice, as the nightmares he endured were much too a burden to deal with. and then, you came along. his longly wretched and desolate days were put to an abrupt end the day you stepped foot into his life, blazing a bright light into his moonless life. you were kind, and astonishingly beautiful — you had a heart and gold and fought for what was right, and you were notably skilled in fighting too — diluc though that you were just utterly perfect, and he didn't deserve that.

you'd dawdle into the angel 's share late one night — far beyond the closing hours. diluc was behind the bar, washing the glasses, finishing off for the night... or at least, that's what he was meant to be doing. when you'd walked in, you found him seated behind the bar with his head in his heads. the tavern was dim, the lights had been shut off all but one above the bar. you couldn't hear anything, not a sniffle nor a breath — but visually, it was obvious diluc was crying; which was an uncommon sight for you.

"luc..?" you uttered out, cautiously stepping towards him. you weren't entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you'd never seen diluc in such a sorry state in your life. "my love... what's the matter?" you'd ask again after a few moments of silence. diluc had not moved a muscle upon your entrance, he was undisputedly humiliated — he'd been caught, he was vulnerable to the core. besides, he didn't know what to say, talking out his feelings wasn't his forte being strictly honest — the words would get caught in his throat, scratching and clawing, leaving a burning in his throat, and words unsaid. but, he couldn't sit frozen and act like he wasn't there forever — not when you were stood, so beautifully in-front of him, eyes wide, lips parted, one of your soft hands rested against his forearm. you looked frantic, and hugely concerned.

"oh. it's you, dear." he'd clear his throat, trying to rid of the strain in his voice, but to no avail — there was a croak in his glum words. he lifted his head from his hands, his eyes weighted down — glossy and bloodshot, blotches of red painting his face. "it- uhm, it really is nothing dear." he manages to say, when his heart feels as if it were clenched in the palm of your hand. "i really do apologise for the delay — let 's head home, you must be tired."

and like that, he 's hastily clearing out, shutting off the remaining lights and locking the tavern door behind him. he takes your hand in his whilst the two of you walk back to your home, in a heavy and uncomfortable silence. the silence continues when you get home, when he's holding you in his arms — so tight. you understand that diluc may not ever tell you what's going on up there, and if he does — it'll be when he's ready. all you can do in the moment, is make sure you show him just how much he means to you.

[chiqelatasblog]

In the Middle of the Night 🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Five is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/Sub-Zere x Reader, Kuai Liang/Scorpion x Reader, Tomas Vrbada/Smoke x Reader

Author’s Note : Hi guys! Sorry for the wait (again). I didn’t like how this chapter was going, so I changed and restarted writing halfway through. That’s why it took so long to finish. (It’s also my first time writing intimate scenes with four people at once.) I’m proud of this chapter. Thank you for your support and kind words! Hope you enjoy this chapter. 💕

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FINAL CHAPTER : (READER)

Life after death never seemed so… chilly, a little bit cold but not enough to be uncomfortable.

And hard.

As you slowly and softly emerged from the darkness, the first sensation you noticed was the coolness touching your skin. You could tell you were in contact with something hard, but your body was so heavy and full of pain that opening your eyes seemed impossible. As you tried to make sense of your surroundings, a vaguely familiar smell reached your nostrils, out of place with the darkness you had just left.

It was the scent of fresh snow on a cold winter day.

Bi-Han.

As you struggled for clarity of your thoughts, everything became more confused. Why was Bi-Han here? Your heart fluttered nervously, barely mustering the strength to open your eyes against the throbbing ache that gripped your body. Gradually, as consciousness began to seep back in, a soft, yellow light danced at the edges of your vision. With furrowed brows, a feeble moan escaped your dry, cracked lips, the pain a stark reminder of your ordeal.

"Shh, you're not fully recovered yet, àirén," Bi-Han’s deep voice came from right where your head was resting. It took you a few long seconds to realize you were lying on his chest. You could feel the weight of the covers laid over you to keep you warm. You couldn’t understand what was going on; your vision was still blurry, and everything seemed like a big blur of colors and lights. If you were fully conscious, you would probably start to panic, thinking you had done something wrong and hadn’t lifted the curse at all. But all you could do now was try to keep your eyes open, which caused you pain even with the slightest effort.

“Keep sleeping, your body needs it.” Feeling Bi-Han’s cool hand on the top of your head, stroking your hair, made you feel safe and calmed the ball of panic and anxiety that was waiting for an opportunity to rise. “I am here, àirén. I will never let any harm come to you. Go to sleep now.” Bi-Han kissed the top of your head, his voice sounding softer and more protective than you’ve ever heard before, was all you needed to close your eyes.

Although you wanted to ask him where Kuai Liang and Tomas were, if they were safe, and what was going on, the questions left your mind one by one as you drifted back into the darkness. Your breathing became heavy, and you fell asleep again, your body relaxing under the steady beat of Bi-Han’s heart.

***

When you managed to open your eyes for the second time, it was evening. Colors and shapes became clearer, and as you looked up at the familiar ceiling, you realized you were in your bedroom. Darkness enveloped the room, with the soft yellow light from the bedside lamp providing the only illumination.

Your body still felt heavy, and you were in pain, although not as intense as before. Nonetheless, fatigue weighed heavily on you, and the ache seemed to penetrate your bones, making you feel ancient beyond your years. As you shifted slightly, you felt the weight resting on your waist and the warmth it emanated. This body felt so warm, without any covering, enveloping you in its comforting embrace. You knew immediately who he was.

Kuai Liang.

As you murmured his name with numb lips, unaware, his powerful body behind you shifted. His arm around your waist reacted instinctively to your voice, pulling you closer to him, and you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“You should get some more sleep, tiánxīn. There’s a little more for you to heal,” he said.

Heal? When you attempted to turn towards Kuai Liang to see his face, he anticipated your movement and assisted you. Despite the slightest motion, your body rebelled, eliciting a moan as Kuai Liang planted a kiss on your forehead.

“I know, tiánxīn, I know. You’ll be fine, everything will be fine,” he reassured you, his voice warm and protective.

As you managed to tilt your head back slightly to gaze at Kuai Liang’s face, even in the dim light from the lamp, you could discern the expression on his face. His handsome features were marked by strong lines, and his eyes held tender, soft emotions, melting your heart as he silently watched over you. It was as if he couldn’t bear to look away. Yet, beneath the tenderness, you noticed dark circles under his eyes and other details that had escaped your initial notice. Besides the fatigue evident in Kuai Liang’s appearance, stress lines marred his features, accentuated by the deep scar between his eyebrows and the tension visible from clenching his jaw.

Your lips parted to speak, but exhaustion weighed heavily upon you. Your tongue felt heavy, your mouth dry, and even moving your lips left you incredibly tired. Kuai Liang noticed your silent struggles and placed a loving, soothing kiss on your lips.

"We'll talk when you're better, I promise," he whispered, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you, his chin resting on the top of your head, enveloping you in his protective embrace.

As warmth and the scent of summer evenings filled your senses, a profound feeling of peace washed over you, and within seconds, you surrendered yourself to the arms of sleep.

***

When you woke up for the third time, soft fur tickled your nose, accompanied by the sweet sound of purring filling your ears. Blinking against the weight on your chest, you realized it was none other than Ninja, positioning herself snugly under your chin, her tiny paws massaging your chest as she rubbed against you.

"Ninja, what did we talk about? You're not supposed to bother her until she's better," came Tomas' familiar voice, his large form filling your field of vision. In an instant, a myriad of emotions flickered across the silver-haired assassin's face, too quick for you to decipher. Tomas stood there, his pallor nearly ashen, resembling illness. His eyes, red as if filled with blood, were sunken, encircled by dark circles contrasting with his pale complexion. You couldn't help but notice the way his clothes hung loosely on him, indicating weight loss. It pained you to see him like this, prompting questions about how long you'd been confined to bed and how long Tomas had been in this state. If he looked like this, what about Kuai Liang and Bi-Han?

"Tomas, what's going on?" Your voice emerged dry and hoarse, scratching at your ears. With a controlled expression, Tomas gently lifted Ninja and placed her on her paws. Then, he helped you sit up, propping you up with your elbows, and handed you a glass of water from the nearby jug. Though you managed to grasp the glass, a dull ache lingered throughout your body, a throbbing sensation that made its presence known. Consequently, your grip was shaky and weak, easily noticed by Tomas. He sat beside you, placing his hand over yours, assisting you as you drank. The water soothed your dry throat like balm, prompting Tomas to break his silence.

"I'm so angry with you for what you've done."

The tone of Tomas' voice was starkly different from what you were accustomed to. It was stiff, cold, and tinged with a hint of snarl. Yet, when you met his gaze, his expression betrayed his true feelings. Despite the furrowed brows and the anger simmering beneath the surface, his light gray eyes reflected a profound sense of resentment.

"I... I can't understand what's going on," Your gaze shifted from Tomas to your hands resting on your lap. There, you noticed the scar on your left hand, a reminder of the methods you tried to lift the curse weeks ago. As your fingers traced the wound, questions poured from your lips, each one tinged with uncertainty. “Hasn’t the curse lifted? Did I fail? Is that why I’m alive?”

A sound akin to a wounded animal escaped Tomas' throat as he enveloped you in his embrace with a speed you couldn't comprehend, planting a kiss on the top of your head and burying his nose in your hair. You weren't sure how long you had been confined to this bed, but judging by Tomas' condition, it had been quite some time, and you were certain you didn't smell pleasant. Yet, Tomas seemed unfazed by it all.

"Don't you ever, ever try anything like that again."

"Tomas-"

"Let me finish," Tomas interjected, cupping your face in his palms. His thumbs stroked your cheeks tenderly and carefully, as if he feared you would shatter at the slightest pressure. His gray eyes, bright as the full moon, bore into yours with such profound love that it made you tremble inside. Tears welled in your eyes at the intensity of emotion reflected in his gaze.

"The curse has been lifted. Lord Liu Kang will provide the necessary explanation, but I can tell you that if it weren't for him... right now... you..." Tomas' voice faltered, his jaw clenched so tightly you feared he might break his teeth. "Your heart had stopped. There was so much blood, and you weren't moving, you weren't breathing..."

"Tomas, my love, look at me, shh," you interrupted gently. You kissed Tomas first on the lips and then on both cheeks, desperate to reassure him that you were here, safe in his arms. The details of your return to life were irrelevant at this moment; what mattered most was calming Tomas. You knew the depths of his despair, having lost his family, and the mere thought of him experiencing such despair and fear again drained the color from your face. “I’m here, I’m with you.”

A small, wet laugh escaped Tomas' lips, but it carried no joy, only pain and grief. "Look at me, when I should be the one calming you down, you're doing this," Tomas said, taking hold of your wrists with both hands. He kissed your palms in turn before pressing your hands to his face, inhaling your scent deeply. His actions betrayed a desperation to reassure himself of your existence, as if he needed constant confirmation that you were truly alive.

"Don't ever do that again. We can't bear to lose you. Neither I nor my brothers are strong enough to survive such a loss. You mean more to us than anything," he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but if I ever have to make that choice again, just know that I'll do it without hesitation," you responded. Tomas' brows furrowed deeply, his mouth poised to object, but you gently silenced him by placing your fingers on his lips. "You mean the world to me as well, my love. I would gladly give my life for you. I only wish you hadn't witnessed that moment. I didn't want you to see it. For that, I'm sorry."

Tomas swallowed hard, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

"You're a selfless, sweet woman... I don't know what we've done to deserve you, but I thank fate," he murmured.

***

Exactly half an hour after regaining consciousness, you expressed a desire to take a shower first, despite feeling incredibly hungry. According to Tomas, you had been asleep for a week. It had become more of a necessity than a mere desire to rid yourself of the fatigue and grime, to reorient yourself a little. Your body still felt uncoordinated, as if your limbs didn't quite belong to you, and moving them as you wished proved challenging for more than a few minutes. Nonetheless, somehow, you managed to take a shower, albeit a brief one.

Once dressed, you leaned against the bathroom door, trying to catch your breath, drained from expending all your energy. As the towel you had loosely tied around your hair fell onto your shoulders, you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the dizziness to pass. You prayed silently that your legs would carry you to the living room, despite their violent trembling and the growing weakness that made it difficult for them to support your weight.

When you heard your name being called, you opened your eyes to see Bi-Han at the end of the corridor. With a few swift steps, he reached you and effortlessly lifted you into his arms, preventing you from falling.

"Why didn't you call us?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"I was trying to manage on my own," you murmured softly.

A sarcastic grunt escaped Bi-Han, indicating his disagreement. "You look like you could faint at any moment."

You had no rebuttal to offer. You were exhausted, hungry, and, most importantly, you had returned from the brink of death. So you remained silent, relishing the comfort of being held in Bi-Han's arms. It felt miraculous to once again discern his scent, feel the coolness of his touch, and hear his deep voice, which never failed to make your heart flutter. In a way, that was all that mattered. Even though you were aware of everything happening around you, your brain still struggled to comprehend the fact that you had defied death and returned, unable to fit it into a logical framework.

Despite Liu Kang's best efforts, the sensation of the knife piercing your flesh, the warmth of the blood, and the searing pain that coursed through your body lingered in your memory. After experiencing it all, the mere act of breathing and moving felt like a surreal dream.

"I wanted to stay angry with you," Bi-Han said, pulling you from your reverie. Though his usual biting, harsh tone, it now held a hoarse quality, revealing a truth he seemed reluctant to admit. Even as you attempted to gauge his expression by turning your head, Bi-Han’s steely gaze remained fixed ahead. “If it weren’t for Liu Kang-”

"Tomas mentioned it," you interjected gently, not allowing him to finish his sentence.

"How could you risk your life like that? Did you think we would simply resume our lives as if nothing had happened?"

"I couldn't bear to see you return to that cursed life. You can ask me for anything, Bi-Han, but not that. I couldn't let you go back to that existence. If it had happened, do you think I could have lived happily?" The mere thought choked your throat and brought tears to your eyes. "I couldn't. Please don't be angry with me."

"I'm not, anyway," Bi-Han replied, taking a sharp breath. "When it comes to you... fuck." His gaze shifted from the living room to you. Despite his tightly clenched jaw, furrowed brows, and attempt to maintain a poker face, you could discern the faint pinkness that tinted his otherwise pale cheeks. "Do you even realize what you've done to me, àirén?"

"Àirén?"

Instead of answering, Bi-Han settled into one of the seats without releasing you from his lap. Moments later, Kuai Liang emerged from the kitchen with a tray in hand and joined you. When you glanced curiously at the contents, the pyromancer smiled and took a seat beside you.

"I've made some soup and bread. It'll be good for your stomach."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You can make bread?"

"He's quite the bread maker," Tomas chimed in, joining the conversation as he entered the room with Ninja nestled on his left shoulder. "When Madame Bo first taught him how to bake bread, he became completely absorbed in it for several months. Despite his fast metabolism, he consumed so much bread that I recall our trainers, especially our father, complaining that he was starting to gain weight and slow down." Tomas chuckled, eliciting a small smirk from Kuai Liang.

"You can't blame me when Madame Bo's recipes are just too delicious. Even Bi-Han couldn't resist the ones with sun-dried tomatoes."

Bi-Han responded with a small grunt, prompting you to inquire curiously, "Who is Madame Bo? I don't think I've heard you mention her before."

"She was one of our former clan members. For a brief period when we were children, she served as our instructor," Bi-Han explained from behind you. His deep voice, coupled with the fact that you were leaning against him, sent shivers down your spine. "She excelled not only in fine dining but also in combat. As she grew older, she chose to leave the clan. Now, she runs her own restaurant in Fengjian, keeping herself busy."

"We definitely need to take you there! I'm sure you'll love her food," Tomas exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Madame Bo will adore you as well," Kuai Liang added, echoing Tomas' sentiment. "Now, come on, start drinking before the soup gets cold."

As Kuai Liang dipped a spoon into the steaming soup and brought it to your lips, your cheeks flushed, and your voice came out feeble.

"Kuai, I can drink it myself."

"You've just returned from the brink of death," Kuai Liang replied softly, yet his tone carried a firmness that brooked no argument. "You're still in the midst of the healing process. Let me help you. You've already exerted yourself enough while showering."

"I'm not too weak to drink soup," you protested again. However, no one took your objections seriously, and you had to drink from the spoon that Kuai Liang offered you, feeling your cheeks grow hotter and hotter. After a few moments, you came to the realization that the situation wasn’t as embarrassing as you initially thought; in fact, it was rather pleasant. The fact that these three men, each possessing frighteningly powerful and deadly abilities, were caring for you in this way made you feel extremely valued, special, and protected. It was impossible not to be swept up in this feeling.

The rich taste of the vegetable soup calmed your stomach, easing away any lingering nausea, while the sourdough bread infused with soft olives and thyme proved to be the most delicious bread you had ever tasted.

"This is the best bread I've ever had, Kuai Liang! You must teach me how to make it," you exclaimed, eliciting a chuckle from Kuai Liang. Grasping one of the hands resting on your lap, he placed a kiss on your fingers. "I'm glad you enjoy it," he replied, returning your smile as you tenderly stroked his cheek with your hand.

After finishing the soup in no time, the front door opened, and Sektor and Lord Liu Kang entered. As you cleared your throat and made a move to get up from Bi-Han's lap, he tightened his grip, preventing you from moving.

"Bi-Han, let me get up. Lord Liu Kang is here," you insisted, turning to him with a huff.

"Yes, I can see that,"

"How am I supposed to make eye contact and talk to him and Sektor while sitting on your lap? Bi-Han, please—"

"There's no need for that," Liu Kang's calm voice gently interrupted, filling the room. You turned your attention to him and Sektor, who stood beside him, both wearing understanding expressions. "It's quite understandable that they want to be as close to you as possible after what happened."

Your lips parted to respond, but before you could, Ninja wriggled free from Tomas's grip, darted towards you with a stressed meow, and leaped onto your lap, curling into a ball and burying her head. Sensing the kitten's trembling, your brow furrowed with concern, and you immediately began stroking her small, black fur in an attempt to soothe her. Your eyes scanned her carefully, searching for any signs of distress.

"Sweet girl, what's the matter? What happened all of a sudden?" you murmured softly.

"She's afraid of Lord Liu Kang," Tomas explained, addressing your question. "I think recent events have left her a bit traumatized."

"Oh, innocent baby," you cooed, continuing to stroke the trembling kitten in your lap. Liu Kang chose to remain in the middle of the room, as if to avoid further distressing the poor animal. An somewhat embarrassed expression flickered in his unusually bright eyes. As Ninja realized that the Fire God wasn't approaching, she relaxed slightly, though she remained pressed against you, clearly unwilling to move anytime soon.

As the kitten's tremors subsided, you turned your attention to the duo standing at a distance. After exchanging a brief nod with Sektor, your gaze settled on Liu Kang.

"Lord Liu Kang, why did you bring me back to life? I thought you couldn't interfere in such matters."

"That's correct. But occasionally, there are rare opportunities in life where I can grant people a second chance for compelling reasons. Your sacrifice due to dark magic was one such instance," Liu Kang explained carefully, his gaze unwavering on you. A warm, kind expression softened his strong features. "Your selfless sacrifice had a profound impact on the fabric of existence. Without the curse, none of this would have occurred. This provided me with a unique opportunity to intervene."

As Liu Kang continued speaking, you slowly stood up, carefully depositing Ninja into Bi-Han's lap, while attempting to muffle her protesting meows behind your back. Bi-Han let you leave his arms this time, making no move to hold you back.

"In return for your courage and compassion, I have bestowed upon you the flame of life. Thus, you are now under my protection and supervision, as well as that of the Lin Kuei," Liu Kang declared.

"I-I, uh-I don't know what to say, Lord Liu Kang," you faltered. The news of being under the special protection of a god was certainly unexpected. Hoping that what you did would not be perceived as disrespectful, you closed the distance between you and God in a snap and responded decently with a hug that showed your gratitude. "I don’t know how to express my gratitude, but thank you very much."

You could sense Liu Kang's surprise through the slight stiffening of his body. Though he was the God of Fire, his body felt strangely cool, though not as cool as Bi-Han's, and a distinct scent emanated from him. It was a scent that sent shivers down your spine, an otherworldly fragrance that seemed to hint at the presence of magic. It was a blend of raw, harsh wilderness and the smell of freshly extinguished ashes.

After returning the hug with equal kindness, the two of you stepped back. The Fire God placed his hands on your shoulders in a friendly gesture, a small smile gracing his face. "There's no need to thank me. I simply did what was necessary. Your sacrifice could not go unrewarded in the face of Quan Chi's curse. If anything, I should be thanking you," he replied.

"I would also like to express my gratitude," Sektor spoke up, taking a step forward and approaching you softly. As Liu Kang withdrew his hands, you turned your head towards Sektor. He made a fist with one hand and placed it over his heart in a gesture you had not seen before, then bowed deeply, bending his body almost halfway down.

"You have brought our clan back to us. As Lord Liu Kang said, even though you are under Lin Kuei's protection, I would like to offer my services to you as a token of our gratitude on behalf of myself and Lin Kuei," Sektor expressed.

Once again, you were silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Then, to avoid stuttering, you cleared your throat slightly and touched Sektor's shoulder with one hand. "Please raise your head, Sektor. I appreciate your sincere words, but you don't need to offer me your service or anything as a token of your gratitude. There's no need for any of this," you said, turning your gaze from him to the trio, who had been quietly observing everything transpire behind you. Bi-Han wore a small, ghostly smile, while Kuai Liang and Tomas were clearly beaming with pride.

Though Sektor complied and lifted his head, his expression betrayed a hint of displeasure at your words. "There must be something I can do for you," he insisted.

"Well... we can be friends? I guess... I don't know if that's allowed in a clan that trains assassins, but—"

"You are a part of us now," Kuai Liang interjected, putting an end to any further debate. Rising from his seat, he quickly approached you with wide steps and planted a kiss on your temple, instantly filling you with peace. Despite standing near someone as powerful as the Fire God and possessing abilities that defied logic, being beside Kuai Liang, Bi-Han, or Tomas made you feel safer and more at ease. "Our home is your home too."

"I would be honored by that," Sektor agreed, right afer Kuai Liang. With a smile that stretched wide enough to make your cheeks ache, you felt a profound sense of happiness fill your heart.

***

It took you about three days to fully recover. Now, you could comfortably move around without needing to hold onto anything or anyone. Your body was completely free of pain, leaving behind three cut scars that stretched from your stomach to your heart. They stood out as old scars, paler than your skin color, as if years had passed since they were inflicted. Though the scars didn't bother you, each time one of the three men saw them, their expressions darkened, evident of the pain it caused them. To spare them this discomfort, you usually opted to wear clothes that concealed the scars.

Liu Kang had already left three days ago after bidding farewell to everyone. Sektor, on the other hand, had returned to China the day after that to make the necessary preparations in the clan. You didn’t know when Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas would return, but you were sure that the time was near. Although you really wanted to go with them, they had been away from their clan and hometown for ten years, and although Sektor expressed that he had managed the clan as best he could during their absence, you were sure that they would have a lot of work to do and take care of when they returned. For now, you didn't want to be in their way while they sorted everything out.

Moreover, you had received a positive response from a job interview and were awaiting the second session and the review of your demo, marking the first step towards your dream. You refused to let the thought of being apart from them dampen your spirits. You had faith that everything would work out somehow. The worst was behind you, and the future no longer seemed as daunting. You could face it with hope.

"You have to knead it well, like this," Kuai Liang instructed, guiding your hands as he demonstrated bread kneading. His warm breath tickled your ear as his broad hands enveloped yours. Pinned between him and the counter, you struggled to maintain focus amidst the sensory overload of his presence—his powerful body, warmth, sound, scent—making it a miracle you managed to concentrate on this moment at all.

With the lifting of the curse, it had now transformed from a relentless, tormenting fire into a gentle whip that ignited your desire. As much as it felt great to revel in the details without the pain and intense pressure that once invaded your mind, you found yourself craving more. Yet, you were also afraid to cross that bridge because of their past. You didn’t want to do anything that might trigger them or that they wouldn’t like.

‘’I doubt she’s paying attention to what you’re saying, brother,’’ Tomas teased from the other side of the counter, his voice laced with amusement.

‘’She seem to have something else on her mind besides bread,’’ Bi-Han said, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Caught in your momentary embarrassment, you shifted in place, aware of Kuai Liang’s knowing chuckle.

‘’I’m aware.’’ The pyromancer gently guiding you as you placed the bread in the container and covered it to let it rest for a couple of hours.

‘’So, you were teasing me, were you?’’ You quipped, turning to face Kuai Liang.

‘’Not entirely,’’ Kuai Liang chuckled, turning you to meet his gaze. ‘’Okay, maybe a little.’’

‘’The expression on your face says otherwise, Kuai,’’

‘’I enjoy the effect I have on you,’’ Kuai Liang confessed with his usual honesty. ‘’You can’t blame me for enjoying that—‘’

Before he could finish his sentence, you acted on impulse, rising on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his lips. In an instant, his lips parted, his tongue delving into your mouth, deepening the kiss into something passionate and fervent. Excitement coursed through you, as if your body had awakened anew, blooming like a flower receiving water.

The bronze-skinned assassin effortlessly lifted you, placing you on the counter with a firm yet gentle touch, urging you to spread your legs. Welcoming his strength eagerly, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat each time you witnessed his power. It was undeniably arousing, the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin as he maneuvered you into position.

As Kuai Liang leaned in close, his body pressed against yours, radiating warmth and hardness that sent shivers down your spine. You arched into him, craving the contact. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt the delicious friction between your bodies. Your heartbeat quickened, and your body responded instinctively, hips moving in small circles to intensify the sensation building within you.

A low, guttural growl emanated from Kuai Liang as a respond. Gripping your legs, he drew you closer, the weight of his body pinning you completely. You could feel his length, firm and hard and burning hot, the heat seeping through the fabric of his trousers. Despite being confined, his thickness was unmistakable, pressing against you with a delicious weight.

‘’Fuck.’’ Bi-Han’s deep voice snapped you out of your trance. Turning to him and Tomas, panting with flushed cheeks, you noticed their arousal, evident as day with the bulges straining against their trousers. Bi-Han’s dark eyes seemed almost black with desire, fixed on you like a predator eyeing its prey. Tomas’s cheeks held a faint pink hue, his desire mirroring Bi-Han’s intensity. ‘’To the bedroom. Now.’’

When Kuai Liang, obeying Bi-Han instantly, lifted you up by continuing to grab you by the legs, you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist and tried to calm your rapidly beating heart. Although it took quite a short time to reach the bedroom, it was as if time had suddenly slowed down, a kind of excitement that you had never experienced before had taken over your body. Your heart was beating so fast inside, it was like it was going to jump out and leave your rib cage.

The moment Kuai Liang released you onto the bed, Tomas materialized behind you, his lips trailing kisses along your neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving behind faint scratches. As Kuai Liang captured your lips once more, the kiss ignited with a fervor and urgency that consumed both of you. There were more teeth than lips as he nipped at your lower lip, his tongue sweeping through to soothe it before plunging deep into your mouth, as if he was trying to claim you with just that kiss.

All you tasted was him. You whimpered out loud, your head swimming with raw want.

‘’It’s alright, kotê. We’ve got you. You’re safe with us,’’ Tomas murmured against your skin, his lips traveling your shoulder to your neck, pausing at your earlobe. With a gentle nip, he whispered, ‘’Do you allow us to touch you completely, lásko?’’

Gasping, you pulled your head back to answer his question. “In exchange for me touching you too, yes,” you replied. A smile graced Kuai Liang’s lips.

‘’Everything that defines us already belongs to you. You don’t need permission for this, tiánxīn,’’

In one fluid motion, Tomas’s hand journeyed down from your rib cage to your stomach, deftly unbuttoning your trousers and pausing at the edge of your panties. With a gentle touch, he lowered it a little until they reached your wet heat.

‘’Shit, you’re already so wet,’’ Tomas exclaimed, his long fingers teasing just below your panties, eliciting a string of curses in Czech. ‘’I need to taste you. Now.’’

A ragged moan escaped your throat. Tomas’s voice was so thick with want that it made you clench your legs reflexively and imagining his words made you even wetter. Though being sandwiched between two bodies was exhilarating, the heat was becoming overwhelming. Sweat dampened your skin, and breathing felt labored in the rising temperature. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, almost painfully, as you struggled to maintain composure. Then, Bi-Han’s voice cut through the haze.

‘’You’re going to overwhelm her. Give her space to breathe, you idiots.’’

‘’Clothes—‘’ Bi-Han’s warning prompted the two brothers to withdraw, allowing you to gulp down sweet oxygen several times in quick succession. ‘’There are too many clothes.’’

‘’We can take care of that.’’ While Kuai Liang helped you take off your clothes, Tomas assisted you in removing your pants. You watched with bated breath as all three of them started to undress, moving in perfect sync. Their bodies were a sight to behold—beautiful and strong, like sculptures carved from marble. You could easily see the years of training etched into their forms, along with the pale scars left behind by their duties. When your gaze involuntarily shifted downward, you felt your cheeks grow warmer.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen them naked. The first time they emerged from the book, you were too afraid to focus on anything but their faces, and your feelings for them weren’t as intense. Although you could now look at them comfortably, it wouldn’t be a lie to say that their size intimidated you a little. The three of them were similar in stature, their impressively large members standing upright and stiff, all for you.

‘’Are you alright, kotê?’’ Tomas’s nose rubbed against your cheek gently. ‘’Don’t hesitate to share your feelings with us.’’

‘’Yes, tonight, the only thing we ask is for you to communicate your limits openly. If there’s anything you don’t like, you will tell us immediately.’’ Bi-Han said. With Kuai Liand and Tomas flanking you, he reached forward, planting a kiss on your forehead before tilting your chin up with his index finger, locking eyes with you. ‘’Are we agreed?’’

Swallowing hard, feeling your mouth dry up, you responded with a thick voice, ‘’Yes.’’

‘’Perfect. Now tell me, which one of do you want first?’’ Bi-Han whispered toward your lips before withdrawing back, leaving you to blink in turn at each of them. Choose? The decision weighed heavily; each brother held a unique allure—Kuai Liang’s passion, Tomas’s sweetness, and Bi-Han’s watchful dominance. They were all so different, yet equally special— ‘’I can’t choose.’’

‘’If it’s agreeable to both of you, I can go first,’’ Tomas offered, prompting silent agreement from Kuai Liang and Bi-Han as they withdrawed back, giving space to the silver-haired assassin. You couldn’t comprehend how all of you managed to fit in the bed, since it’s just for two people. But somehow, you made it work, moving in quite harmony.

‘’You are so beautiful,’’ Tomas murmured, his kiss tender and deliberate, suffued with compassion. ‘’Thank you for sharing this moment with us.’’

‘’I’m yours. Every part of me belongs to you, I accept everything that will come from all three of you.’’

Somewhere nearby, Kuai Liang uttered something in Chinese, and Bi-Han’s breath caught sharply. Meanwhile, Tomas, kissing you once more, guided you to lie down on the bed, his weight comforting rather than oppresive. Propping himself up on his elbows, he hovered over you, his short, soft silver hair a tousled mess, cheeks flushed against his pale skin, lips glistening, and silvery gray eyes shining like stars.

“You are very beautiful,” Tomas’s words a gentle caress against your skin. “I can’t get enough of looking at you; it tugs at my heartstrings every time.”

As his hand trailed over your throat, then down to the first scar, you observed his furrowed brow and darkening expression. When he leaned down to kiss the scar just below your left breast, a shaky breath escaped your lips. His kiss held not only tenderness but also an unspoken apology.

“I hate to see you hurt. I’m grateful that you’re with us; I just wish there was a way to solve what happened in a different way,” he quitely spoke against your skin, his voice laden with regret.

“It’s all right now, Tomas, and that’s what matters. Let’s enjoy the moment; we all deserve it. Don’t you think so?”

“You are right.” He showered your stomach with kisses, paying equal attention to each scar, while you glanced at the other two brothers watching you. Kuai Liang sat regally on a chair pulled close to the bed, like a king waiting for the perfect opportunity to conquer, his powerful legs spread wide as one hand leisurely stroked his erection. When your eyes met, his amber gaze sparkled with pleasure, a small smile gracing his lips.

“We will all take care of you in turn, tiánxīn. Do not worry,”

You gulped at this words, your gaze then shifted to Bi-Han, who sat at the end of the bed. His intense desire burned in his eyes, evident in the veins that stood out on his neck and the icy vapor that escaped his nostrils. It was the first time you noticed the freckles scattered across his broad, muscular chest, rising and falling with each controlled breath.

It was exhilarating to feel and witness their raw emotions so palpably. To be wanted. To be desired. There was a hungry part of you that craved more, yet you weren’t quite brave enough to voice it yet. Bi-Han caught your gaze, rising from his place with a growl, and captured your lips in a kiss that stole your breath away. Unlike Tomas’s sweet kisses or Kuai Liang’s burning passion, Bi-Han’s kiss was dominant, demanding, and deep enough to make your toes curl. As his tongue explored the depths of your mouth, you clung to his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself to reality amidst the flood of sensations.

“I want to mark you,” Bi-Han declared, his teeth grazing your lower lip with a hint of pain that only added to the pleasure. “I want to see my marks on your skin, to claim you as mine. Do you allow me, àirén?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you gasped breathlessly, surprised at how incredibly hot and sexy his want sounded. Bi-Han’s gaze darkened even further, if that were possible, a predatory smile dancing on his lips as his minty cool breath washed over your face.

“Don’t beg. You never have to beg for us, àirén. As much as you are ours, we are also yours. Simply expressing your desires is enough for us to fulfill them.”

“O-Okay. You have not yet told me what the words you say in your own language mean—Ah!” Your head fell back as Tomas bit into the soft, delicate flesh of your thigh. The ache between your legs intensified, your body trembling with electric anticipation from head to toe. Another whimper escaped your lips as you desperately tried to shift your legs to alleviate the ache, only for Tomas to restrain you with a firm touch.

“I know, darling. I’ll relieve you in a moment. Don’t worry.”

Tomas kissed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, each touch sending shivers down your spine. Sometimes his teeth grazed your skin, eliciting involuntary squirms from you. His once gentle touch was now more firm and strong, leaving you sure there would be fingerprints tomorrow. Meanwhile, Bi-Han redirected his attention from your lips to your neck, catching you off guard with a sudden bite that drew an embarrassing squeal from your lips.

While it stung, it wasn’t unbearable; instead, it ignited a tingling flame in your belly, spreading warmth throughout your body like a wildfire. Being claimed in such a primal manner felt undeniably hot and intoxicating, reaffirming your belongingness to them.

“Are you all right?” Bi-Han murmured as he gently licked the bitten spot, to which you simply nodded in response. “If it becomes too much, you’ll let me know. I trust you to do that, right?” Another nod from you earned a smile from Bi-Han. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “Perfect. Our perfect woman.

“The sounds she’s making…” Kuai Liang’s groan cut through the air, his voice deep and thick with desire that it was almost impossible to understand the words. “I want to hear more.”

“So do I,” Tomas added, his voice joining his brother’s. As if punctuating his words, his mouth closed over your aching core, surprising and rendering you breathless and causing your entire body to stiffen.

“Breathe, àirén,” Bi-Han urged, placing kisses on your neck and grasping the side of your neck with one hand, offering an anchor for you to hold onto, his thumb grazing your pulse. As you took a deep breath, the cryomancer nibbled on your earlobe. “That’s it. As for the answer to the previous question, àirén means ‘my love’ in my language.”

“Tiánxīn means sweetheart,” Kuai Liang said, his voice taking on a growl towards the end.

“And kotě means kitten,” Tomas’ voice was almost unintelligible, muffled by his actions. You moaned as his tongue curled over that little bundle of nerves, while Tomas let out an almost feral, uncontrolled growl that made your body tremble. “Fuck— your taste is amazing, I could get drunk on it.” Adjusting himself between your legs, he lifted them over his broad shoulders to get better access, ensuring your stability with his hands, pinning you down easily. “And lásko means love.”

You wanted to say something in return, but the words seemed to leave you. You were caught between Bi-Han’s bites of a mixture of pleasure and pain and Tomas’s deceptively moving tongue. When one of your hands went straight to Tomas’s hair and the other found Bi-Han’s, a groan went up from both of them, which made it clear that they liked it, and set your skin on fire. The sounds you made were completely primitive and loud enough to make you blush, when you closed your eyes tightly, you heard Bi-Han growling.

“Open your eyes, I want to see and watch the pleasure we’re giving you.’’

‘’There is nothing to be ashamed of here, tiánxīn.’’ When Kuai Liang appeared on your other side, you wanted to reach out to him, but it was difficult to move your hands. Fortunately, Kuai Liang had no difficulty reading you, so he leaned right over you and made you relax, leaving little kisses starting at the corner of your chin until they reached your lips. ‘’You are too beautiful for words, don’t hide yourself from us. Even looking at you is a pleasure in itself for us.’’

You felt a small laugh climbing up your throat. Everything felt so comfortable, easy and most importantly, safe. You had complete trust in them, and it was such a trust that it made it easier for you to put yourself in their control. You knew that they would never hurt you, the comfort and peace you felt from their presence came first.

Although your lips were parted to thank Kuai Liang, the words remained stuck when Tomas rolled the small nub with his tongue and closed his lips on it, sucking on. Stars, literally golden stars appeared behind the eyelids that you closed without realizing it, a long moan left your lips. Tomas was kind, but also cruel. He knew so well how to use his tongue and lips, where he should touch and at what speed he should move, that in seconds he managed to turn you into a tight ball just begging for more.

You heard Tomas chuckle; you didn’t need to look to see the proud expression that settled on his face, you could imagine it clearly. Bi-Han took a break from his assault, and you trembled with another wave of pleasure as he stepped away, just like Kuai Liang. Tomas’s tongue was hot and strong, and when that clever muscle opened your lower lips and dipped into your warmth, you both groaned at the same time.

Tomas pleasured you with his tongue in a way that left you unable to keep track of time. He used his mouth so skillfully that it should be considered a crime. It was as if he was a man lost in a desert who had just found water. His tongue licked your lips, sometimes teasing that small bud to make your breath hitch, and then easily slid his devilish tongue into your wet channel. He was literally devouring you, guttural sounds leaving his throat matching the sounds you were making.

While Bi-Han was cursing, Kuai Liang asked in a hoarse voice, “Can you bring her to peak like that?”

“Yes. She’s so wet and hot and sweet—My Gods, may they have mercy on us.’’

‘’W-Wait, ah- a minute.’’ As soon as you managed to somehow get the words out, Tomas obeyed you in a breath and stopped. The only thing you felt was his warm breath that touched your wet heat. Kuai Liang asked, stroking the top of your head, in a gentle and careful voice that you could call worried, ‘’Are you all right, tiánxīn?’’

‘’Yes, I just… I don’t want to come this way.’’ Even though your face was cut red, you continued. ‘’It felt so good. Just—Some other time, but not today.” Because if Tomas had continued for a few more minutes, you would have come easily without even needing to feel his fingers or his length inside, and you didn’t want this to happen the first time without feeling them inside.

“Of course,” Kuai Liang leaned down and placed a small, loving kiss on the top of your head. ‘’Thanks for sharing with us.’’

‘’But you’re letting me stretch you on my fingers, right? I don’t want to hurt you.’’ Tomas said, in a voice so deep that it made you shiver inside. When you turned your gaze from Kuai Liang to him, your heart misfired. Tomas’ lips and chin were completely covered with your juices, shining. His hair was even more messy than before, some of the short tufts had risen into the air, his gray eyes were dark, and the raw hunger lying there had accelerated your pulse, you almost couldn’t hear them because of the buzzing in your ears.

Remembering at the last moment what you were asked, you mumbled a ‘’Yes.’’ Chuckles poured out from all three men.

“Perfect. You’re so perfect and good for us.” As one of Tomas’ long fingers easily slipped into your wet warmth, a wave of relief washed over you, soothing the ache that had been constantly building up. “Next time, I want to see the moment when you come apart just on my tongue. Your taste is addictively sweet.” While Tomas peppered kisses on the inside of your thights, his clever finger moved back and forth with an ever-accelerating rhythm. It felt good, but it wasn’t exactly what you craved. You wanted to feel more—fuller.

“Use your words, darling,” Tomas said, sensing your desire through your squirming. Swallowing the urge to express yourself by closing your eyes, you met Bi-Han’s gaze and forced your lips to move. “More. I want more.”

Tomas smiled, and when he pulled his hand back, your eyebrows furrowed, and you let out a little desperate whine as if in objection. This was not what you wanted, what you wanted—just as Tomas returned to your entrance with two fingers, Kuai Liang’s fingers also began to stroke over the small bundle of nerves, causing you to see stars. As Bi-Han’s mouth closed over one of your hardened nipples, your body stretched like a bow. Every sensation felt overwhelmingly good, especially the tension building up beneath your belly, dragging you closer to the edge.

Bi-Han bit the delicate bud before sucking on it to soothe the pain, while Kuai Liang’s other hand kneaded your other breast. Callused fingertips left a trail of fever wherever they touched, and as Tomas’s fingers moved in and out, coupled with the pressure on your core, you were on the brink of climax.

Realizing how stretched your body was, all three of them ceased their sweet torture. As Tomas donned the condom handed by Bi-Han, you took a deep breath, desperate for the oxygen you badly needed.

“Are you ready, lásko?”

“Yes,” you answered in a flash. ‘‘I’m ready, Tomas…Please—I—“

“Shh, what did my brother tell you, darling? Don’t ever beg to us.”

As his length, bigger and harder than fingers, pressed at your entrance, your legs instinctively opened to welcome him in. Slowly, Tomas entered your molten hot depths, and you whimpered, clinging to his shoulders, trying to adjust to the incredible fullness.

“That’s it, you’re doing great, beautiful. Just a little bit more.” When Tomas’s groin met yours, the silver-haired assassin leaned in, gently stroking your cheek as he gazed into your eyes. A small, sincere, and happy smile adorned his face, sending a tremble through your heart. “Are you with me?“

“Yes.”

“Feeling all right?“

You nodded your approval, and Tomas chuckled, his thumb stroking your lower lip.

“I want to hear it in words, lásko.”

“Yes, very much.” Then, as you reflexively squeezed your inner walls, the overwhelming fullness made your head spin, and you both groaned in unison. Tomas surged inside you like a pulse, strong, hot, and hard, filling you completely, beautifully. His length reached every part of you, leaving no inch untouched. “How do you feel?“

“More wonderful than I’ve ever felt.” As Tomas leaned down further, kissing you deeply, you tasted your own essence on his tongue, unable to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth. It felt as though flames coursed through your veins, while your heart raced and the tension under your belly mounted. “Our woman,” Tomas purred, kissing you once more. “Ours.”

“Yours,” you gasped.

Tomas smiled, but his grin was feral and hungry, just like a hunter. As he began to move his hips, a gasp then a thin moan escaped your lips involuntarily. The pleasure coursing through you was indescribable, urging you to squirm for more. Wrapping your legs around Tomas, you tried to draw him closer. Tomas and Kuai Liang chuckled simultaneously, their laughter devoid of mockery, sweet as honey, warm and loving. Bi-Han planted a tender kiss on your temple.

‘‘Shh, he will give you what you want, àirén.’’

‘’Certainly,’’ Tomas replied, smiling. The rhythm gradually picked up pace, smooth yet intense, making it challenging to restrain the sounds of pleasure escaping you. The warmth emanating from Tomas, the flushed pleasure on his face, the sexual harmony… Everything felt magical and uniquely special, filling your heart with love.

In this moment, it was as if you existed only with these three brave and strong warriors, ready to fight and spill blood for you without hesitation. You were enveloped in a sheltered bubble where time seemed to stand still.

As Kuai Liang took your nipple into his mouth this time, Bi-Han’s hand trailed down your quivering stomach. When his fingers found that sensitive spot and applied just right amount of pressure, sharp waves of ecstasy mingled with the pleasure, eliciting helpless whimpers from you. The impending orgasm approached faster than you anticipated. All three of them made encouraging noises, pleased with the sounds you produced.

‘’Gods, your voice… Fuck,’’ Tomas breathed heavily.

‘’You moan so sweetly,’’ Kuai Liang remarked, joining in.

‘‘I want to see you peak, I bet you’ll look divine.’’ As Bi-Han increased the pressure on your mound, you moaned helplessly. Tomas swallowed the sound with a low growl, his lips never leaving yours. ‘’Let us see, àirén.’’

You were just barely breathing, unable to focus on anything except the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. Tomas’ hand found your hair, effortlessly tilting your head back to dominate your mouth as he pleased, while Kuai Liang’s fingers toyed with your sweetly abused nipple, sending sharp but addictive pain coursing through you. And when Bi-Han’s touch once again grazed your core, the world slipped away for a moment. The tension under your belly reached its peak, finally snapping. Shaken with pleasure, you couldn’t breathe—maybe you screamed, you couldn’t tell. Time, space, even your surroundings faded into oblivion for a fleeting moment.

It took a while for you to regain awareness, noticing Tomas’s hardness twitching inside you as he breathed heavily, trying to recover. ‘’Perfect, sweet lásko.’’ he gasped, kissing the tip of your nose. ‘‘You were wonderful. How do you feel?’’

Taking a moment to assess yourself, you realized you felt more than good—you felt great, alive, and fully satisfied. ‘‘I’ve never felt better,’’ you replied honestly. A bright, proud, and somewhat smug smile spread across his face as he planted a chaste kiss on your lips.

‘‘Can you go on?’’

‘’Yes, I trust you.’’

A growl of satisfaction emanated from all three at your response. As Tomas carefully withdrew, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of emptiness after being full. While Tomas removed his condom, Bi-Han approached with a glass of water, and Kuai Liang helped you sit up. As you drank the cold water, surprised at your thirst, Kuai Liang peppered your shoulder with little kisses, while Bi-Han gently stroked the back of your head. If it weren’t for the lingering energy pulsating through your body, you could easily fall asleep like this. Their touches were gentle and caring, a stark contrast to the intensity before.

When you finished all the water in the glass, Kuai Liang asked, ‘’Would you like some more?’’

‘’No, this is enough, thank you.’’

Upon your answer, as Bi-Han rose to put down the glass, Kuai Liang arranged both pillows back to back, leaning them against the headboard. Then, he settled his powerful body against the prepared pillows and turned his amber eyes on you, bright as the sun. His sun-kissed body, rippling with muscles and adorned with a few scars, along with the flex of his scorpion tattoo on his arm, he was a sight to behold.

‘’Come here, tiánxīn.’’

Approaching him as instructed, you let Kuai Liang pull you towards him. His hair, usually gathered into a bun but now left in a ponytail, was scattered, its dark strands cascading over his broad chest, surprisingly soft to the touch. Kuai Liang effortlessly turned you over, making you lean against his chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you felt his hard length, warmer than Tomas’, at your entrance. Though not as long as Tomas, Kuai Liang was certainly more well-endowed, the tip of his arousal flushed with red.

‘’Remember, if you don’t like anything, you’ll tell us. You are the most important thing to us, and we don’t want you to force yourself in any way.’’

‘’All right.’’ Turning your head to the side, you dropped a small kiss on the edge of his strong-lined chin. ‘‘Everything that comes from you, I already accept. There can be nothing that I will not like.’’

‘’You’re too sweet.’’ Kuai Liang returned the kiss on your lips. His hands slid from your waist to the back of your legs, parting them gently. ‘’Open up for me, tiánxīn.’’ As he pressed you down, his length entered you easily and effortlessly. Moaning softly, you rested your head on his shoulder, one hand curling up at the back of his neck while the other gripped the hand holding onto your leg.

‘’You’re perfect. You were made for us, tiánxīn. Wrapped wonderfully around me.’’

Kuai Liang, when he placed his teeth on the other shoulder that Bi-Han hadn’t marked, you shivered with another helpless moan. You’d never thought that pain could feel so sweet and good, or the happiness you’d feel when you woke up in the morning to see their claims on your body. While the pyromancer filled you inside with a strong and steady rhythm unlike anything you’d known before, Bi-Han came into view.

His hair was also disheveled like Kuai Liang’s, his black locks spilling over his chest, a stark contrast to his snow-white skin. From his perfectly lined muscles, your eyes trailed down to his painfully erect arousal, adorned with fine black hairs, and it didn’t surprise you that his size matched Kuai Liang’s.

‘‘You can always stop us,’’ Bi-Han said as he closed the distance between you. Without averting his gaze from you, one hand carefully descended, teasing your entrance with his fingers before slowly, very slowly, inserting one finger, eliciting a scream-like sound from you at the incredible fullness and stretching you felt. Kuai Liang licked the spot where he had bitten and reached towards your neck, while Bi-Han placed a kiss on the edge of your lip.

‘‘Are you all right? Is it too much?’’

“No. I’m good,’’ you said, gasping. Kuai Liang’s size was extremely endowed, and Bi-Han’s finger was definitely not considered small. Despite facing the kind of stretching you hadn’t experienced before, it didn’t hurt. Instead, all you felt was an indescribable pleasure that made you tremble uncontrollably.

‘’Can you take both of us?’’

‘‘Both of you… at once…?’’ As you responded to Bi-Han’s question with surprise, Kuai Liang planted a small kiss on your neck.

“He will prepare you carefully, tiánxīn. There will be no pain, only pleasure. Always pleasure. Don’t doubt it at all, but if you don’t want to, there is no problem in that. Whatever you want, we will fulfill it happily,”

All three of them carefully observed your every reaction, constantly checking your condition, trying to discern what you liked. ‘’I want to try,’’ you said in a voice that suddenly became shy. ‘‘I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.’’

‘‘Never,’’ said Bi-Han in a harsh and sharp voice.

‘’We just want to give you nothing but pleasure, tiánxīn,’’ added Kuai Liang, joining his brother. Bi-Han leaned down and began showering your neck, collarbones, and breasts with kisses, occasionally sucking on your skin, while Kuai Liang continued his sweet torture on your neck and shoulder.

After a while, a second finger joined the first one. You didn’t know what you sounded like—a scream, a moan? It didn’t hurt, but it definitely burned now, the pleasure was overwhelming. You were sure you were scratching Bi-Han as you clung to his shoulders, drawing blood where you pressed your nails into his flesh. But you needed to steady yourself and do something with your hands. You moved as if you had lost control of your body, but under Kuai Liang’s grip as hard as steel, and with him impaling you, there was nowhere for you to go.

‘’That’s it. You’re opening so beautifully for me,’’ Bi-Han inhaled deeply while sucking on the spot where your throat met your shoulder. ‘‘Fuck, do you see how you’re sucking me in? So perfect.’’

You tried to babble something, his words making you blush hotly, but all that came out of your lips was a broken moan. You didn’t know if they could understand you, you weren’t even sure how you could still contain this much pleasure. As if you were about to fly away, your head fell to the side as the hot tension gathered under your belly spread in waves throughout your entire body once more, and you bit Kuai Liang’s neck, the only thing you could think of to suppress your uncontrollable moans.

Since Kuai Liang didn’t expect you to do this, his rhythm jerked for a moment, and an incomprehensible curses poured from his lips. As if it were possible, when his hardness, which was pulsating inside and burning like an ember, grew larger, you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin.

‘’I didn’t know you liked being bitten,” said Tomas, although his voice sounded close, you were not yourself enough to understand where it was coming from. You heard Kuai Liang take a sharp gasp.

‘’So do I.’’

At that moment, Bi-Han was completely focused on stretching you. His touch was gentle and extremely careful as he slowly pushed his fingers a little deeper each time, causing your whole body to tremble with it. After a while, when his third finger teased at your entrance, you tried to relax. Two fingers and Kuai Liang’s length were quite a lot, but you wanted this.

While trembling under Kuai Liang’s strong grip, you pulled your mouth back and gently licked the place you had bitten as a kind of apology, then looked at Bi-Han through your eyelashes. When his eyes, as dark as the starless sky, met yours, Bi-Han said, ‘’Breathe,’’ and then added his third finger to the others.

As you accepted him, all the air you could draw into your lungs flew away. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t even make a sound. When you opened your eyes again, which you hadn’t realized you had closed, you saw Tomas standing over you.

‘’Are you okay? Do you want him to stop?’’

‘‘No. I’m—I’m all right.’’ When you could breathe again, you continued in a weak voice. ‘’Just… Too full— oh, my god-too much.’’

‘’You’re doing great.’’ Tomas reached down and planted a kiss on the top of your head. “But if this hurts you-‘’

“No.’’ As Bi-Han pushed his fingers a little deeper, your eyes closed once again. ‘‘I’m all right.’’

The cryomancer growled, his fingers began to move back and forth a little faster and smoother as his grunts echoed through the room. After a while, you found yourself getting used to this feeling; to this fullness and the perfect harmony of hot and cold. When Bi-Han rooted his fingers and pulled them back without any warning, a confused, unhappy whimper poured from your lips. You wanted them back, just when you were used to it-

‘‘I know, àirén. I know, I’ll give you what you want.’’

When Bi-Han put on the condom that Tomas handed him and aligned his length, which was much, much bigger than his fingers, to your entrance, your heart started beating so hard inside that for a moment you thought you were going to faint. Kuai Liang leaned back a little more, pulling you along with him, while Bi-Han slowly began to insert his length through your entrance. Although you thought that Kuai Liang filled you too much and that Bi-Han would never be able to enter, Bi-Han carefully slipped into you within seconds, slow but sure, and—

You wailed, it was an absolutely overwhelming feeling, it was beyond fullness. But somehow, you stood up to it. It didn’t hurt, but it all seemed too much and too intense at once.

‘‘It’s all right, àirén. Shh, we got you. Breathe, yes just like that.’’

Bi-Han stopped when he settled down to the hilt, and while giving you time to get used to the feeling, he reached out to you and planted a kiss on your slack lips. Even though you tried to respond to him back, all you could do was moan and gasp brokenly into his mouth. Kuai Liang kissed you wherever he could reach, while whispering words of love and praise in your ear and caressing you with a broad hand that he slid over your belly.

When you finally managed to open your eyes, you came eye to eye with Bi-Han’s dark and hungry gaze.

‘’Are you ready, àirén?’’

“Yes.’’ You whispered.

When he bent down to kiss you with a feral smile that mostly bared his teeth, his long hair tickled your cheeks. Then when he started moving, you screamed and couldn’t stop yourself from putting your nails on his shoulders again.

Bi-Han snarled into your mouth, catching your lower lip with his teeth, as Kuai Liang also started to move, you completely gave yourself up to their control and mercy. Their movements were very harmonious, as if they were reading each other’s minds, one was on the way out, the other was inside, and they never left you empty. While Kuai Liang was warming your body from behind, Bi-Han was soothing you with his coolness with every part he came into contact with in front of you.

‘’Will you let us see you peak once more, beautiful?’’ Kuai Liang said as his hand on your stomach slid down. You moaned from where you were leaning your head on his shoulder, even the slightest movement was enough to make your eyes roll back. You didn’t think it was possible to survive such a pleasure if Kuai Liang touched you there—

‘’Kuai-’’ You said, gasping. Although it was foolish to hope that he would understand what you meant by voicing his name, you didn’t know at that moment how you could communicate otherwise. The hot tension in your stomach was so tense that you could have exploded at any moment. All you need is—

When Bi-Han, uttering a curse, grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders, burying himself deeper than ever, he touched a place in you that make sparks and stars appearing before your eyes, liquid hot electricity running through your whole body, making you tremble. As you contracted so hard that the two men took a sharp breath and snarled like predators. As Bi-Han pressed the same spot several times, his rhythm was smooth and relentless. All you could do was hold on to him. At that moment, Kuai Liang’s hand was resting on your mound, and you clawed his arm desperately, he stroked it once, twice, thrice, and then you came screaming. Your body stiffens, breath leaving your lungs, and your vision blurs into blinding white.

Although you don’t know how it happened, after a while, as your vision gradually clears, you find yourself curled up in Kuai Liang’s lap, gasping for breath. Your body still trembles with lingering aftershocks.

‘’Hey, there.” Kuai Liang gently stroked your cheek and kissed you. ‘‘Are you all right?’’

“Yes.’’ You said in a cracked voice. When Tomas appeared on the other side of you and brought the glass closer to your lips for you to drink water, you opened your lips with great satisfaction, grateful that you didn’t have to hold the glass because you were sure that there was nothing left in your body for strength.

You had some soreness, and after getting used to being full, you were feeling very empty now, it was a strange feeling. But other than that, you felt refreshed and great. A sweet tiredness that went down to your bones had settled on you, you heard Kuai Liang laugh when you yawned without being able to help yourself.

‘’Go to sleep, tiánxīn. You’ve earned that, we’ll take care of you.’’

With a sigh, you curled up on his chest, while sleep overtook you, you fell asleep in seconds because you had no doubt that you knew your men, that you were in the safest place on earth.

***

When you opened your eyes, the morning light filtered in through the window. With the fitness of having slept the best sleep of your life, you turned around where you were lying with the touch of a body behind you while yawning in the bed and met Tomas’s gaze, which was watching you with a pleasant smile. Under the morning sun, Tomas stood quite soft and relaxed, his eyes almost like shining stars.

He didn’t have a shirt on, so you could clearly see the marks you left on his skin—bruises and thin scratches scattered here and there. A faint heat flared in your belly at the sight of him, but you brushed it aside. It was early in the morning, and despite Tomas looking very handsome and enticing at the moment, you were incredibly hungry.

‘‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’’

‘’More than enough.’’ You said it in a happy voice. Then, after taking a look around the room, you asked curiously. ‘‘Where are the others?’’

‘’They are in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.’’

‘’Both of them?’’

‘’Although he doesn’t show it, Bi-Han too, is a good cook. He just doesn’t like cooking very much.’’

‘‘I wonder why I’m not surprised to hear that.’’ You said with a chuckle. At that time, a meowing was heard inside the room, and then within seconds, when Ninja’s tiny body came into view, you pulled her to yourself with a hug.

‘’Good morning, little menace.’’ While placing a few kisses on the top of her head and scratching under her chin, Ninja let out happy purrs, then lying on her back, she exposed her round belly, which was obviously filled with food. You both laughed at the sweetness of the kitten, and when Tomas bent his head and tried to kiss Ninja’s soft belly, the kitten meowed and grabbed Tomas’s face with four paws, trying to gnaw and kick.

“Ninja, shh, we don’t show our love that way.’’ As you gently stopped the kitten and pulled her to you, you couldn’t help but laugh at the betrayal that appeared on Tomas’s face. “To touch the open belly of cats is a death sign, Tomas. Didn’t you know that?’’

‘’I thought she was getting used to us.’’ Tomas said with sad puppy eyes and a voice full of betrayal.

Some things are instinctive; don’t take it to heart.” After giving Ninja a bit more affection, as you straightened up to start the day, the cover slipped and landed on your lap. It was then that you noticed the array of purple bruises, bites, and fingerprints covering your body. To an outsider, you probably appeared as if you had been attacked. Tomas, with a quiet voice, voiced his concern.

“How are you feeling? Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

Finding his worries sweet, you kissed his shoulder instead of his lips, considering how awful your morning breath must have been. Despite sleeping deeply, your body, especially your lower half, was aching. However, it was a pleasant sensation rather than painful; you knew you would walk funny for a bit, but that was perfectly fine with you.

“I’m fine, Tomas, don’t worry.”

Tomas helped you out of bed and helped you get dressed after giving you one last worried glance. You made your way to the kitchen with Ninja trailing behind you, where you found Kuai Liang and Bi-Han arranging dishes on the counter in sync. The delightful smells instantly made your stomach growl, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. Tomas chuckled beside you.

“Good morning, my loves,” you greeted them softly. Their faces lit up as they turned towards you, and they each gave you a hug halfway and planted a kiss on both sides of your head.

Like Tomas, they also didn’t wear anything other than sweatpants to cover up below. Their skin bore your marks, and from the looks on their faces, they were proud of them, just as you were proud to display and carry their claim on you. It was primal, indeed, but it somehow satisfied something deep within you.

“It smells amazing in here. What have you cooked?” you asked as you approached the kitchen. Bi-Han handed you a mug of green tea, and Kuai Liang explained how they prepared a Chinese breakfast while you listened and sipped your tea with happiness.

The table was adorned with an array of dishes, from steamed buns filled with pork and vegetables to dumplings swimming in fragrant broth. Crispy fried rice cakes glistened with a sweet soy glaze, while golden brown pancakes dripped with honey. Fresh fruits adorned the table, adding a refreshing touch to the feast.

Soon, you started enjoying the breakfast laid out in front of you, accompanied by a lively conversation that had you laughing. The food was as delicious as it looked, and you couldn’t help but shower them with compliments. Bi-Han even stuffed a dumpling into your mouth at one point to quiet you, which almost made you choke with laughter.

As you took another sip of your green tea, a sound from your laptop caught your attention. Curious about the early morning email, you rose to investigate, careful not to trip over Ninja who was lounging nearby.

“Is there a problem?” Kuai Liang asked as he approached, reaching to take the kitten on his lap. Ninja immediately melted at his touch, her purrs filling the living room.

Opening the mailbox directly, when you saw where the message was coming from, your heart immediately began to beat with excitement. You held your breath, opened the message box with trembling fingers, and tried to read the message in a snap.

“Is everything all right? You turned pale in an instant,” Tomas said with a worried voice as he sat on the other side of you. A growl rose from Bi-Han. “Who do we have to kill? Give us the names.”

“Guys,” you blinked back tears of happiness, trying to steady your racing heart, “remember when I told you that the first round of the job interview went well?”

“Yeah,” they replied in unison, prompting a wet laugh from you, on the verge of tears.

“I passed the second round too! They liked the demo I sent them. They want to work with me! I got the job!”

When tears of happiness that you couldn’t hold back any longer started flowing down your cheeks, Tomas was the first to hug you. His huge body enveloped you, and he whispered how proud he was of you. Kuai Liang, who had dropped Ninja to the ground, hugged you in the same manner. He gently wiped away your tears and planted a loving kiss on the top of your head. Finally, Bi-Han didn’t hug you like the others, but he gave you a chaste, sweet kiss that lingered longer than expected. Then, with pure confusion evident on his face, he asked, “What the hell is a demo?”

“It’s a preview of the game that hasn’t been fully developed yet. I had been working on it for a long time, unsure about the storyline or characters, until I met you guys,” you explained, pulling up the files on your laptop to show them. Their curiosity piqued, all three leaned in to see the screen. As you navigated to the character screen, three names appeared: Smoke, Scorpion, and Sub-Zero, in that order, accompanied by their gray, yellow and blue appearances.

“Hey, these are our code names, and they look like us. Wait a damn second—” Tomas paused incredulously, and you planted a loving kiss on his cheek amidst his confusion.

“Yes, I know the graphics aren’t great, but everything will be improved. You guys have been my inspiration. Did you like it?” you asked, hopeful.

“This is incredible,” Kuai Liang said, eyes widening in amazement. “How did you manage to do this?”

“Well, I wanted to create a fighting game since highschool. My software was ready, but I was missing characters and a plot,” you explained.

“Are they fighting to the death?” Bi-Han asked, curiosity piqued. After your confirmation, he inquired further, “What’s it about?”

“Based on what you’ve told me, I might have drawn some inspiration from certain events. The main theme revolves around the power struggle between our world and other realms, with fighting tournaments organized to maintain balance,” you elaborated.

“This isn’t just inspiration; it’s reality,” Kuai Liang chuckled, trying to stifle his laughter.

“Why don’t you also call it Mortal Combat, to tie it all together?” Tomas suggested as a joke.

“Well, that’s not a bad idea actually,” you said at the idea Tomas had thrown out. ‘’I couldn’t think of a better name. But maybe with a K instead of a C, it’ll be more catchy,” you added with a smile, trying to read their emotions. However, as the silence stretched and they continued to stare at the screen, you began to feel apprehensive. “Are you… mad at me that I used the information? I can change it completely—”

Bi-Han was the first to drop his mask, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as his normally cold eyes held an amused glint. “Of course we are not mad. Military superiors, monks, and various criminal organizations around the world are already aware of the existence of Outworld and its tournaments. Making some changes in your game to avoid direct parallels won’t be a problem.”

“So you liked my surprise then?” you asked, glancing at them, and they responded with genuine happiness and pride. Tomas chuckled beside you.

“But you’ll pay us commission fees, won’t you? After all, we played an important part in this—” Before he could finish, you threw a cushion at his face, causing him to topple over. But just as he fell, he pulled you into his arms, laughing heartily before kissing you on the lips. “It was a wonderful surprise. Thank you for deeming us worthy of this,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate. “It’s a nice feeling to know that we are your inspiration.”

“Certainly,” Kuai Liang chimed in, joining his brother to kiss you on the shoulder. Bi-Han knelt down to get on eye level with you, lifting your chin slightly to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“We are so lucky to have you,” Bi-Han said sincerely, his voice calm and genuine. You closed your eyes with happiness, feeling content and loved. Everything felt perfect, and your heart was full of love and hope. Starting with Bi-Han, you answered back in a voice overflowing with pure happiness before kissing them each in turn.

“So do I.”

***

Author’s Note: You stuck with my silly idea and finished the story?! Thank you so much for reading it; I hope you enjoyed it!🥰 I know neither of them said "I love you" to the reader—I wanted to save that for an upcoming one-shot where each of them expresses their love to the reader separately. After that, I have a couple of interesting ideas where Quan Chi and perhaps Leilani will appear and have a plot in the next story. Hope you stick around! If you have any ideas, feel free to share them with me. Take care! 😘

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Request from @talesofreading: Hi dear ☺️ could I ask for an imagine with Bucky where you can't sleep, so you walk around through the compound enjoying the silence. Just as you find a wide awake Bucky as well. You then just talk about senseless stuff till you find yourself in each other's embrace on the couch where he finally gets the guts to kiss you and tell you how much you mean to him. Eventually you fall asleep and the others find you both tangled together the next morning and are very happy for you 🙊

Word Count: 1,895

Warnings: mostly fluff with a dash of angst at the beginning.

Midnight.

1:00 AM.

2:00 AM.

2:30 AM.

It was too much. The thoughts. The dread. The guilt. All too much. 

You fought to throw back the covers which had wrapped around your legs as you'd tossed and turned for the last three hours. The last mission had been a disaster. So many people had died. You felt responsible. Here you were, safe and sound while the people you'd left in the remnants of their broken homes, mourning their lost loved ones.

What gave you the right to be surrounded by comfort? By warmth? By luxury? Who were you that you deserved to walk away without taking responsibility for your shortcomings?

Your mind raced like a little toy car set to spin around the same tiny track for eternity. You were well versed in the pain that came with the setting sun. This wasn’t the first night you’d chosen to pace the corridors of the Compound, choosing to use your body rather than your mind. Your autopilot carried you down the corridors, down past the Olympic sized swimming pool that Tony had insisted was necessary, and outside under the stars where you felt a sense of freedom. Freedom from your worries, from your responsibilities and freedom from your guilt. The vastness of the stars above you reminded you of how small your problems were in the grand scheme of the universe. The weight of your decisions seemed miniscule out here in the wide open space, far from anyone-

You were winded by the force of your impact with a very solid object. It wasn’t until a strong pair of hands were wrapped around your arms that you realized that the solidness belongs to another human being. In fact he was a very strong, very beefy human being. Sergeant Bucky Barnes, formerly the Winter Soldier, was holding you upright, well, just about.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed.

“Are you alright, Buttercup?”

“Peachy,” you breathed out, finally getting some air back in your lungs. “How are you so … solid?”

Bucky huffed out a laugh, albeit a short lived one. You never failed to bring a smile to his face even if he was feeling miserable, in the depths of despair, plagued with guilt and confusion, it was you who was always there. You were a ray of sunshine in the melancholy that filled his life. You reminded him of the color yellow, which is why he had chosen to call you Buttercup. Not that he had ever told you the reason he had chosen this nickname. But you liked it, so it stuck.

“What’re you doing out here? It’s 3am!” You always worried about your friend.

Bucky shrugged. “You can see the stars out here.”

“Yeah, you can’t see the Milky Way from anywhere in the city. It makes me glad to be out here.”

“And why are you out here at 3am?” Bucky knew the exact reason you were out there.

You sighed. “Morpheus forgot to swing by my room tonight.”

“How inconsiderate of him.”

The two of you stood in silence, looking up at the stars until a cool wind picked up around you and you shivered. Your thoughts hadn’t involved dressing for the weather as you tried to escape from the prison of your own mind.

“Maybe we should go back inside.”

“Why?” Your stubbornness knew no bounds.

“I’m cold.” Bucky knew your obstinacy far too well.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t object, it was really rather a nippy night. Bucky started walking back into the facility, so you follow. You’d follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked you. The amorous feelings you harbored for Bucky were something you kept well hidden for fear of them being unrequited. Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you with an intensity which made you feel like there was the potential for more between you, but the fear of losing his friendship had always held you back.

He led you to the small common room which had a kitchenette attached to it. It was your favorite because of the large windows which gave you a magnificent view of the dense tree line around the Compound.

“Sit,” he told you as he made his way to the counter.

“Yes sir,” you made a small face but did as you were told.

Bucky filled the kettle and set it to boil and popped two teabags into mismatched mugs. It gives you time to curl up on the couch under a throw blanket and you go back to admiring the stars. He joins you with two steaming mugs of your favorite herbal tea.

“Thanks Buck.”

“I know a story about the Milky Way.” You smiled at the fact that your words were basically a quote from a story you’d read as a young girl but it had stayed with you. You proceed to tell Bucky the story as best as you remember it.

He sat down close to you, close enough that you caught the scent of his shower gel. Sometimes, it was hard, being in his orbit. There would be times it frightened you and other times you grew bold, almost taunting with your affections. You wished from the depths of your soul that one day he would tell you that he cared for you the same way you did for him. 

“Once there were two angels in heaven, named Zerah and Zulamith. Zerah and Zulamith loved each other, just as we mere mortals fall in love with each other. But their love was forbidden by God.”

Bucky sighed. You took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Unfortunately, because the two angels had broken God’s law, they were banished to the furthest corners of the universe. Now, if God had banished them together, it wouldn’t have been a punishment at all. But sometimes God can be cruel-”

“You got that right,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“-so he sent Zerah to be exiled to a star on one side of the universe, and Zulamith was sent to a star right on the other side of the universe. Between them there was an incomprehensible abyss, darker than the black of midnight which even the closest star couldn’t brighten. But for the two angels, the strength of their love surpassed the boundaries of the universe and even though they were worlds apart, they yearned for each other.”

You laid your head on Bucky’s shoulder as you spoke, unable to look at his expression as you told the tale. “Zerah’s longing for Zulamith was so strong and pure that she began to create a bridge made of light from her star. And Zulamith, who had no idea this was happening on the other side of the universe doing the same. For thousands of years they ached and suffered. But eventually their bridges of light met!”

Bucky squeezed your hand. You couldn’t see the way he looked down at you as though he understood exactly how those angels felt.

“As their bridges finally came together, they sprang into each other’s arms. All the anguish and loneliness they had endured was over because this bridge built by their love spanned the gulf between their stars of exile.

“But that’s not the end of the story, is it?” Bucky asked.

“No, because when the other angels found this bridge of light, they went to God and-”

“They ratted out Zerah and Zulamith,” Bucky broke in bitterly.

“Pretty much. They went to Him crying ‘see what these rebellious angels have done!’ But God hushed everyone who spoke in heaven. And through the silence he said, anything in this universe that is built with true love is not even something I can destroy. The bridge will stand forever. And it still does.” You looked up at the Milky Way from the window, lost in the romance of your story.

“You’re quite the Story Girl.”

Bucky’s words made you snap your face back to look at him. His face was so close to yours, it was unnerving.

“The Story Girl? You know the book?” you asked curiously. The Story Girl was the book where you’d read the story of Zerah and Zulamith.

“I remember reading it,” Bucky admitted.

An image of a young Bucky sitting and reading formed in your mind and it made you smile. You were surprised to notice that he hadn’t let go of your hand and was in fact rubbing small circles over the back of it with his thumb. He was looking at you with such tenderness that you felt a little flustered.

“I love that we share stuff like this. Even though we grew up with lives which feel like we're on opposite ends of the universe, we still shared these small things. Even if we can't share the bigger stuff.”

“Hey, thanks for not pushing too much on the reason for the midnight wandering.” Bucky’s voice was soft and sad. “I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to.”

“What? Bucky, don’t be absurd. I love talking to you, even in the middle of the night. I love spending time with you. I lo-” You cut yourself in time, maybe confessing your love when he was so vulnerable wasn’t the best idea. You decided to go back to looking at your stars.

Bucky didn’t miss the catch in your voice, or the blush on your cheeks. “What was that, Buttercup?”

“You're my best friend. Did you know that?” You felt like some kind of confession was due. “I mean I know Steve is yours. But you're mine.”

Bucky put an arm around your waist pulling you closer than you ever dreamed possible. “I am you know.

You looked at him a little quizzically. “What?”

“Yours.”

His voice was barely audible, but it sent shivers down your spine and his grip on your waist tightened. You are completely paralyzed with shock. Did he mean what you think he meant? Or did he just mean that you were his best friend too.

Your silence was too much for him, Bucky withdrew his arm from the embrace he had you in, afraid he had said too much.

“Bucky!” you grabbed his hand, not letting him move any further. “Please?” You didn't even know what you were asking him for.

Bucky sighed, sitting back down but not as close as he was before. He was silent and still, like he was waiting. He knew how to be patient. He would wait an eternity for you if it meant he could have you. But he dared not say any more.

It was your turn to move closer to him. You crept forward, until your hands rested on his thigh. Every movement was slow, scared. But something in his eyes drew you forward, until your face was inches from his. Finally you threw caution to the wind and pressed a slow sweet kiss against his lips. Gentle and innocent but filled with promise.

His hands found your face, pulling you back for more. Embodying the yearning that Zerah and Zulamith had felt. It drew you closer until you were wrapped in each other's arms.

The embrace is how sleep finally found you and it was also how Sam and Steve found you later that morning. They smiled at each other, tiptoeing away to give you the peace you very much deserved.

[treycloverswife]

I think Trey's signature spell has a lot of potential in many different ways. Of course, it could be used in combat quite effectively, but it could also be used to make life just a little bit sweeter for people that he cares about. Fixing the texture of an uncomfortable shirt, changing the taste of some questionable food that sat a little too long in the fridge, changing the color of an accessory to stand out more in a photoshoot...there's many things he could do!

With Yuu(/you) in particular I think there is a lot of potential. In an entirely new world, perhaps you wouldn't have the ingredients available to make your favorite foods. Despite the best efforts to replicate your comfort foods, all previous attempts have landed flat and you have given up after another disappointing meal. Trey patiently hands you a portion of the food and tells you to picture every detail of the food you crave, every miniscule thing that seems like it might not matter. His spell does the trick, of course. Even though you know it's fake, the meal tasted so good that it washed away day's worth of stress (and his self-satisfied smile only made it that much better).

In a different world, your perfume and body wash is nowhere to be found. You're stuck with the closest thing you could find in stores, and while it isn't a horrible fit for you, it always seems just a tiny bit wrong. You lament that there's no way to get it just right; of course, you don't have magic on your side normally! Trey offers to cast his spell on anything that's scented, giving you a brief reprieve from the perpetually frustrating scents that you are putting up with. And it's not a perfect solution; it's temporary, and it's something that only you can smell. But it means the world to you that he offered at all; it feels nice to feel a little more in control of your own image, even if only for a moment. It feels good to have a piece of your old self on hand.

In a different world, you're apart from your normal bed. No matter how comfortable Ramshackle dorm is after you fix it up a little, the old blankets don't have the familiar feeling of the blankets you had back home. The pillows are flat, too, and you never seem comfortable. While you are grateful for the shelter you do have, the lack of sleep is getting to you bit by bit. When Trey pays you a visit, he offers to use his signature spell to make your bed a little bit more comfortable; it won't last for long, but it would probably be long enough to take a short nap. And sure enough, with a few magic words you are transported back to your old room, the soothing textures of your blankets and the oh-so-familiar feeling of your silky, soft pillows beneath you comforting you and reminding you of the world you cannot return to. The feeling relaxes you greatly, and you are able to drift off into sleep quite quickly. Perhaps you could even invite Trey to join you for a nap, happily snuggled against him in a show of gratitude. He wouldn't mind; perhaps he was even hoping for it.

The longer you are there, the more he does it for you. The delight of it never goes away, and the magic he casts on things surrounding you makes life a lot more bearable. You ask him why he does it and he laughs, simply saying that he wants to help you settle in. He has to look out for the wide-eyed, unknowing student who is growing more homesick as time goes on. The way he says it seems suspicious, though; you can't help but wonder if he spoils you a little bit for self-indulgent reasons.

He's not totally selfish; he does like seeing you happy and he would make your life more comfortable for no reward at all! However, it's true that he always has something to gain, even without rewards; your smile is worth an incredible amount of things, as far as he is concerned.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Two - Trepidation

Summary: With palace life, you are never truly alone, but that doesn't mean you aren't lonely. Even when you meet new people, it seems they place you at an arm's length away. You walked on eggshells while people worshiped the very steps all the same. 

Notes: ~5.1k words, centers a lot around Reader this chapter, Morpheus doesn't appear until the later bits soz

Warnings: Morpheus being a lil bitch, reader is a chronic overthinker and same girlie

Tag list is open! Just let me know :)

☾ ✴ ๋࣭ ⭑․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․

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Trepidation (n.) - a feeling of fear or anxiety about something that may yet happen

It’s very unlady-like to sneak back into your own room. You had only done it once before, when you were younger and less refined and even then you were caught by the housekeeper soon after. But this time it seems the stakes are raised. The halls are completely empty, the moon still has domination over the night sky, and the sun has yet to make its debut.

You have stayed in Morpheus’ bed for a few hours after he left you alone. The rules of palace life are still vague to the best of your knowledge, but after tossing and turning without getting any sleep, you figure it would just be easier to do it in the comforts of your own room. Is this considered rude? You’re not entirely sure. It seems rude to leave your husband’s chambers on the night of your wedding. Then you remind yourself that nothing actually happened… so perhaps it wasn’t as crude as your mind made it out to be. 

You stop dead in your tracks when you see a lone guard stood at the front of your door. Your hands are quick to cross over your chest, the mere nightgown you were wearing was certainly not presentable to anyone else’s eyes. You stay frozen as you glance over his appearance. You were so dead. They’re going to hang you by the gallows and parade your sad body throughout the kingdom as a warning to other maidens that sneak out of their husbands rooms in the middle of the night. 

The knight is dressed in black armor, completely different from the other soldiers you’ve seen around the castle who seem to don silver instead. His helmet represents that of a bird of some kind, a raven if you had to guess. With his arm crossed, he came off domineering and revered and you had half of a mind to turn back around so you wouldn’t get caught by him. 

The beak of his helmet clinks against his chest plate and your muscles stiffen while confusion swipes across your face. A loud snore completely catches you off guard and you brace your teeth against each other as the sound reverberates across the empty halls. Your eyes dart around, hoping to any deity that is willing to listen to you that no one was around to hear. 

A long pause passes and not even a cricket chirps. Another snore emits from the black knight before you consider it safe to pass. You slide your feet across the floor, keeping your footsteps as quiet as possible as you walk up to the bedroom door. Every noise seems to heighten to something ten times greater than what it actually was. The click of the door knob, the slight creak of the door, and the locking mechanism all made you grimace in case it is enough to wake the sleeping knight. 

The bed is grandiose, cool, firm, and simply perfect against your tired body. You think that you would get a few winks of sleep before the sun rises. Yet, even in moments of peace your mind wanders to Morpheus. His words are like cough syrup in your mind, they coat every crevice of your thoughts, no matter how unwelcomed they were. 

“I am no monster,” His words echo in your mind. 

But he is a cheater… is he not? To (not) so secretly see his previous lover at his wedding and to chase after her, leaving you alone on the dance floor surrounded by doting couples. To admit to her that he still loved her. The confession that wasn’t meant for your ears still cut into your unguarded heart, leaving it broken before it could even flourish. 

You try to distract yourself by counting the amount of swirls that were painted on the ceiling. Each time you get somewhere past 50 your mind wanders again to last night and you start over. By the time the first sign of daybreak makes it past the heavy curtains, you feel your eyes begin to droop. With a deep breath you welcome sleep, finally. 

…

It doesn’t last, not even a second, when the doors to your room open with a slam. Your body reacts quickly to it and sits up with a start. You stare face to face with Agnes, who wears her own surprise on her face before she returns her emotions neutral. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I presumed you were with the King. May I draw a bath and get you ready for the day?” She asks. 

“Um, yes,” You reply hesitantly. You watch as she goes to some conjoined room you didn’t notice before and enters it.

There's the sound of objects being moved around and water sloshing before steam fills the room. The scent of something sweet fills the air as she walks out. She gestures for you to come to her, which you do so with heavy feet. 

Sleep once again tugs on your eyelids and you barely register when she removes your nightgown from your body. The warmth of the bath lulls you further into the tub and you reluctantly lean your head against your folded knees. 

Agnes, seeing her queen in, well for lack of a better word, utter disarray, goes back to the cupboards and starts looking for some other herbs. She stacks the boxes on top of each other before making her way to your side. With a certain amount of gentleness, she places the boxes on the floor and kneels in front of the bathtub. 

“Cinderbon flakes for muscle aches, my queen,” She starts as she sprinkles the red flakes into the water. “And some rose petals for romance.” Agnes pauses as she hears you groan under your mop of steamed hair. 

She hesitantly places the rose petals into the water just as she did with the flakes before. “Lastly, some milk from a Natterhorn to aid with sleep…” She whispers finally as she pours a ceramic jug of cream colored milk into the water. 

She mixes the concoction slowly with her hand before adding another bucket of hot water to help you relax further. You hate to admit it, but everything she added certainly helped. You feel her move behind you as she begins to wash your hair, ridding the last of the stardust from the wedding night. Agnes keeps quiet, presuming that is what you wanted most, and she would be correct. 

The maid doesn’t comment on why you were not in the King’s chambers, nor how there wasn’t a single blotch of red on your nightgown, a telltale sign of any consummation. She’s curious, but she knows it’s best not to say anything in case she loses her tongue over it. If she were any younger, she’d be running off to her other maid co-workers and sharing the new gossip, but after a rather traumatic event to an old friend, she’s learned her lesson through her. 

“I’ll leave you to soak, Your Majesty.” Agnes wipes her hands on her apron as she approaches the door. “Please, ring the bell when you wish to be dressed for the day, my lady.” With that the door is shut and you’re left alone once more. 

“Please stop calling me your majesty,” You mutter to yourself.

Titles are not uncommon in your life, but something about “your majesty” was too much for you. It separates you too much from those who will take care of you. You miss your own lady’s maid, the one that has grown with you since infancy.

That title seems too grand, it places you on a pedestal and you can already feel the height it has placed you at. You’re afraid if you peak over the edge, you will plummet to your death. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong tick, and everything would be over. You walk on eggshells while people worship the very steps all the same. 

Eventually, when the bath starts to run cold and your fingers are beyond wrinkled, you leave the bathtub. You wrap a towel around your body and tug on the bell that hangs by your bed. Soon after, Agnes appears again, this time with an army of maids behind her. They’re quick to make work of you, easily dressing, combing, and readying you within the half hour. 

When they left your room once again, you’re fighting with the corset string behind your back. Agnes had somehow managed to tighten it beyond human comprehension and then manage to hide the strings beyond your fingers. After a frustrating few minutes with no results, you give up with a huff. 

Cautiously you open the door, peeking your head out. You weren’t exactly given a schedule for today and if sleep wasn’t going to find you, you might as well find something else to do. For example, exploring the castle. Hopefully, no one would point a finger at you and get you into any trouble. 

“Oh, good morning, Your Majesty,” A voice calls out close to your ear. 

“Ah!” You scream, your hand comes up and pain tingles across your palm as it makes contact with metal. 

“Ah!” The voice screams back as the slap makes contact with his helmet. It doesn’t hurt, the armor doing its job quite well, but the noise was bouncing around the helmet, rendering it no better than a bell. “What an arm you have there, Your Majesty.”

You stare wide eyed at the black knight as your pulsing hand places itself over your accelerated heartbeat. 

“You!” You gasp with a pointed finger as the knight finally registers in your mind. “You’re the one that I snuck past last night… this morning?” You correct yourself. You drop your finger quickly, realizing perhaps a bit too late how rude it was. 

At your comment, the black knight stiffens. “Er… What do you mean you snuck past me? I was guarding the door, no one came in or out.”

You blink, once, twice. “Right, you fell asleep?” You say in a way that may help him remember. That snore he made was surely a thought to remember. 

His head cocks to the side, making him look all the more bird-like with his helmet on, and he stays like that for an awkward amount of time. Your eyes darted off to the side when he still hadn’t responded to you. 

“What?” His response finally came. You could hear the embarrassed smile behind the helmet. “Haha… what?” He says again, laughing dryly. 

“Well, I won’t tell anyone, but I guess you probably shouldn’t do that.” You try to soothe him to the best of your capabilities. 

“I’m new?” Came his defeated response, his armor clanks against each other as he slumps from his perfect posture.

With a heavy sigh he turns around and bangs his head to the crevice between the door and the wall. The sigh leaves the crevices of his helmet like a whisper, reverberating between the metal to make it sound like a soft caaaaaaa…. The helmet makes a heavy gong sound as it makes contact with the wall. Another sigh comes before he speaks again. Caaaa….

“I just got this job, I just got sworn into knighthood by the King, how can I mess up already. I’ve been in the academy for so long, I mean granted I wasn’t the best, but I still made it to the personal guard… right? I graduated, didn't I?” At this point, you’re sure he’s mostly talking to himself.

Moping would’ve been a better word for it, actually. 

“What is your name, good sir?” You ask with a tap on his shoulder. It was mainly to get him to stop groaning and moaning so loudly in the halls. 

He turns around, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and answers. “Sir Matthew, Your Majesty.” He salutes as he does so, bringing one arm behind his back, the fist of the other over his heart. Your mind rattles as it remembers the symbolism for the salute: Your heart for the kingdom, cover your back for you will stab your own before your brothers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir Matthew,” You greet for the first time. “I’m Y/N.” You curtsy to him, which he returns with a low bow at the waist. 

“Oh, yes, I know who you are, Your Majesty.” He nods as he returns to his regular position. His hand rests easily on the hilt of his sword. 

Of course he knows who you are. The moment turns ever the more awkward, and you’re determined to leave the situation. With a final nod you turn to walk away, anywhere was better than here. It’s not a few steps later that you hear the synchronized steps of Matthew following behind. When you paused, his steps paused, too. You take two steps, his steps followed, two steps exactly. 

“Sir Matthew?” You question as you turn around and face him. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you following me?”

A confused pause. “Yes?”

“Okay… Why?” You ask. You could feel a tension headache forming along the crown of your head and you’re not sure if it’s the tight hairdo or Matthew himself. 

“I am your personal royal knight, Your Majesty,” He explains as if the information was self-evident. 

“Ah,” You respond. You’re still confused, but whatever. 

You begin to walk again and Matthew’s footsteps follow. Stopping briefly you turn to him again. “And you follow me everywhere?”

“Yes, always three steps behind.”

You raise an eyebrow as you take a step backwards. You watch as Matthew takes a step forward, copying you. You take a step forward and he takes one back. 

“This might get annoying.” You think to yourself as you begin to walk normally again. Now you have a nanny. An idea strikes you then and you turn around abruptly once again. 

“Sir Matthew,” You start.

“You can just call me Matthew, your grace, if that pleases you better.” He quickly interjects. 

“Fine. Matthew,” You pointedly say. “What exactly are your duties? Your responsibilities?”

“Well, I look after you, my queen. I make sure you aren’t to be harmed and do as you so wish. Though I would prefer if your wishes for me can be solved with brute force.” Matthew explains simply. 

“If I were to wish you to not follow me?” You ask unsubtly. 

“I cannot, it is within my creed, and orders from His Majesty.”

You intertwined your fingers in front of you again, twiddling the digits between each other as you thought to yourself. Matthew stares forward as you do so, staying quiet until you speak again. 

“If I were to ask you to make sure a certain person never sees me?” You ask slowly. 

“I would make it so you forget they exist,” Matthew answers brutally. 

You internally scoff as he says so. It would be near impossible to forget such a person. Jealousy courses through your veins as you think of her. Perfect curls, smooth skin, and soft pink and gold. 

“Do you know of a woman named Calliope?” You ask finally. “I wish to never see her.” 

Matthew stays silent for a few moments, and you think you’re already overstepping your boundaries. The knight did mention in passing that your orders are easily overruled by the King’s. Perhaps you didn’t have enough power to ask him of this, especially knowing the relationship between the two. 

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” Matthew’s head tilts to the side once more and it suddenly dawns on you that he probably knows the affair was happening. Knights are silent but that doesn’t mean they don’t listen. And surely he would have heard about their love story and how a random woman comes in and marries the King, turning a perfect love story into an affair. 

You turn before he can say anything else. A stone finds its way into your throat and a silent cry almost makes its way out of you. Your steps quicken, hoping that some distance will prevent Matthew from seeing the growing frown on your face. 

The castle, for the most part, looks like every other part of the castle. The halls are long and winding. It was made of old stone, smelled heavily of petrichor, and decorated with arts from several centuries. Busts of kings and queens past are set periodically throughout the hallways. Most of the rooms you managed to peek into are empty, with white cloths covering the outline of beds and tables. 

You do manage to find something interesting but it is locked behind a set of heavy doors. Even with Matthew behind you, you know it best to not ask him to cut the door open so you may look behind what those huge barriers were hiding. You gave up as soon as one sharp tug did nothing to the locked secret. 

You continue exploring, eventually finding yourself outside. You walk along the colonnade, the castle’s arching design taking over the columns throughout the roofed walkway. Occasionally you could smell the hanging wisterias when the wind blew past. 

“Wow,” You sigh with admiration. You peer over the railing, hand supporting yourself, at the grand garden the castle had hiding behind its hedges and walls. 

The garden was filled with even more statues, fountains, and flowers that created a beautiful mosaic of nature and all of its inhabitants. You can see the various species of butterflies and bees that flew around pollinating the flowers in late spring. 

A moving, round orange thing catches your attention as it moves meticulously through the garden. As if sensing your attention, it turns and stares at you. Your eyes widen even further as you realize that it was a sentient pumpkin man. Smoke puffs out of his eyes and mouth as he takes another long drag from his pipe cigarette. His gloves and overalls are covered in dirt, but he somehow manages to keep his white undershirt pristine. He grumbles before returning to his work, his wooden frame groaning as he lifts a particularly heavy ceramic jar to a new location. 

Giggling interrupts your observation as a group of women come closer to you. Matthew moves to the side as you turn to face them. You give them a smile and they curtsy to you in return. Judging by their clothing, they were certainly noble, or ladies with titles. 

You go to open your mouth, to greet them, or introduce yourself. Perhaps even to invite them to afternoon tea, but before you can they’re quick to leave, giggles continuing. 

“I heard that King Morpheus didn’t even touch her last night, during their consummation,” One whispers, giggles littered between the words. She thought it was quiet enough, but the design of the colonnade let you hear every word she gossiped to her friend. 

“Probably because the King still loves Lady Calliope,” The other chortles back. “Gosh, can you even imagine? Marrying a man who already has a mistress?”

“How dreadful indeed.” 

Your words die in your mouth as you listen to what they say.

“It’s just gossip.” You try to reason without yourself. “Yeah, gossip based on true events. In which case, they’re just speaking the truth.”

Matthew only watches you as you try to regain your composure. He watches as you close your eyes and take in a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before letting go through your mouth. He’s done the same breathing exercise several times before tournaments. He doesn’t particularly find himself caring for palace gossip, to be quite honest he was too concerned with being the best knight he could to listen in. 

He knew of Calliope, sure, but that was due to her extended stay as a diplomat from a neighboring kingdom. She was often seen in the hallways, or sharing court with the King on how to further the alliance between the two kingdoms. They were always amiable, but perhaps Matthew was too thick in the helmet to notice anything more. 

“Matthew, how can I get down to the garden?” His queen’s voice brings him out of his own thoughts. 

“Down the corridor, there is a set of stairs, my lady,” He answers with a nod in the right direction. 

“Perfect, let’s make our way down then,” You smile at him and turn quickly. Tears prick at your eye line once again, but you’re determined to not let them fall. Never.  

Just as Matthew pointed out, a layered staircase leads you straight into the royal gardens, just past the large fountain was a labyrinth of roses that you know you’ll explore some other time. You take your time hunting down the pumpkin head man, stopping by the garden fountain and playing with the little tetras that lived in the water. 

You tuck a few strands of stray hair back into place using the water’s reflection before you decide to continue on your side quest. The pumpkin man finds you first before you could find him. Smoke still puffs out of his eyes and mouth and he raises a vine that acts as his eyebrow when he sees you. 

“Ay, you look familiar, I feel like I should know you or something.” He gestures towards you with his pipe. He takes another long drag before recognition takes over his face. “Ah, you’re the new boss lady.” He claps his gloved hands together.

“That’s me.” You smile. “Are you a gardener?” 

Matthew taps you on your shoulder before leaning close to your ear. “Can I also call you boss lady?” He whispers, hiding his words with a hand from the pumpkin head’s view.

“On special occasions,” You jest quickly before returning your attention to the squash. 

“Put some respect to my name, why don’t you. Sorry, I’ve got a mouth on me. Probably why the big boss puts me away from people.” He grumbles and turns away. 

You go to follow him as he continues to move a large bag of soil over his shoulders. 

“Oh, this job is going to kill me,” He groans under the weight of the soil. “I need new branches, these are getting too brittle for me.” He explains to you behind him. 

He takes you to a new part of the garden where everything was quite bare except for a lone tree and a small pond. It was a beautiful little get away once he placed new flowers and other decors. 

“By the way, I’m Mervyn, no titles, just Mervyn Pumpkinhead,” He answers your previous question. “Yes, I’m a gardener, and janitor, and fixer upper, whatever.” He huffs another puff from his pipe. 

He looks at you up and down, your soft smile was that similar to the sun now that he really looks at you. Also your youth surely gave you some more muscle than him. 

“Ehh, now that I’m looking at cha… why don’t you plant the flowers in this area then. I’ll give you full control, I have other things to do today.”

He hands you a small shovel and points to a stack of nursery plants off to the side. You open your palm and the dirt covered tool falls into your hands. You’ve never gardened before, but you think you can manage. Mervyn is off before you could protest, anyway. 

You grab a few potted nursery plants and ask Matthew to grab the rest before you start digging holes and planting them. It takes time and a little bit of effort, but soon enough you’ve planted the pieces where you think they would bloom nicely. You dust off the caked on dirt on the front of your dress with a satisfied sigh. 

A small tickling sensation makes you see a small caterpillar crawling on your forearm, bringing it to your eye level to admire the small creature. You turn to Matthew to show him the cute little thing, but his gloved hand comes closer, snatching the small bug from your body. Before you could say much, Matthew unhinges the mouthpiece of his helmet and throws the poor caterpillar into the void. 

“Matthew!” You exclaim, shock ripples through you in fits of laughter. You are in total disbelief; your eyes and ears can’t process what you’ve just witnessed as Matthew continues to chew on the bug. 

“Hmmm, takes like chicken,” He comments before bringing his hand over his beak and hinging it back into place. 

You’re still gawking at him, your hand goes to cover your mouth, muffling your next words. “You… just ate a bug!”

“Oh, shit,” Matthew swears as he returns to his perfect three pace away stance. His posture returns stick straight and you’re about to ask him what changed his behavior when someone calls out your name. 

“Y/N?” A new voice joins your conversation and you turn around, ignoring the satisfied hum that came from Matthew as he swallows his little afternoon snack. 

“Morpheus,” You breathe out, disbelief has yet to leave you. 

This time around, the king is accompanied by two other figures. One, dressed almost identical to Matthew, the only difference is the white crest that bore the King’s symbol proudly in the middle of her chestplate. The other wore typical court clothing, a large book was resting between her arms and hip, her glasses gleaming in the outdoor sun. Silence follows the curt greeting that was cut by a forced cough. 

“Greetings to you, Your Majesty. I am the royal court advisor, Lucienne.” The one in glasses introduces herself and gives you a warm smile that you returned. 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lucienne.” 

“And this is Captain Jessamy of the royal guard,” Lucienne continues. You give a smile to Jessamy who returns it with the same salute that Matthew did this morning. The white crest on his chest plate shines brightly in the sun and you can tell, even without seeing her face, that she bares the symbol proudly. 

In contrast to the two women, Morpheus looked like he would rather be anywhere than here, making conversation with you. His face shared the similar frown on his lips that your father shared when he was having a difficult day. 

“Has your day been well, my lord?” You ask, taking the risk of his potential wrath. Matthew is good company, but you fear it’s not the company you seek. 

Agnes and your maids are there for you, but they could never quite understand what you go through, would they? Mervyn was nice, a nice breath of fresh air (or smoke in his case). He talked to you as if you were just as equal as any other, but there was still a distance that he put you at. 

Everyone held you at an arm’s distance. 

Even now as you look at your husband, the very definition of pristine, proper, and passive, he too stood further away from you than would have been deemed necessary. 

“No,” He replies dryly. 

You wait a moment, thinking that he would go into elaborate detail as to why. But, those few seconds pass and the two of you, nor your company, have moved an inch. You’re all too aware of how you look now, hair fussed, hands and dress covered in dirt. It’s the exact opposite of Morpheus. 

“What His Majesty means to say, is that there was a rather difficult court meeting we had to attend to this morning. It did not go as planned.” Lucienne interjects when the silence becomes too much, even for her. She enjoyed silence, don’t get her wrong, but this was just painful to witness. 

“Oh,” You frowned at the newly presented information. “Would you like me to join you next time? I believe two heads would be better-”

“No,” Morpheus interrupts you with a raised hand. 

Your mouth shuts slowly and you think your heart cracks a little more in your chest. To not love you is one thing, understandable even if you gave it enough time. But, to not even let you into his court, to help him rule his kingdom as his equal. It’s like the words he spoke from your wedding night meant nothing to him now. You were nothing but a common bird trapped in a golden cage. 

Morpheus’ notices, it’s hard not to when you so clearly express your emotions on your face. The thought of an apology crosses his mind for interrupting you, but it quickly gets buried by other thoughts of his kingdom. There was the tension of his sibling’s kingdom, wanting to wage a useless war against his Dreaming. His other missing brother, his sister who decided royal life was not for her and decided to travel the world. In all truth, his family was just as messy as the politics he spoke of that morning. The burden is not his to share, it’s not yours to carry either in his mind. 

“Well,” You clear your throat, your fingers unknowingly playing with the strands of your matching bracelets. “Is there anything I can do here?” 

“Do whatever you want, Y/N,” He answers honestly. With a look behind you and the general state of your appearance he speaks again. “It seems as if you have already found gardening.”

He walks away without another word. Lucienne and Jessamy follow without a word either, and you stare at his receding figure until you’re unsure if it’s his black robe you're looking at or merely a far away tree. 

Anger rises inside of you and you snap the bracelet against your skin to prevent it from bubbling to the surface. At the corner of your eyes, you can see the same girls you met earlier, peering at you over the railing of the colonnade. No doubt gathering more gossip to spread to their friends. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that bug.” Matthew’s comment brings you out of your own self-loathing. 

You smooth a finger across your wrist that has long since turned red and face your attention to your knight. 

“Captain Jessamy is so cool. Did you see that white crest on her chest? Gosh, what I would give to get one of those. But, nooo, she’s just so perfect of course she would be the only one so far to have that. God! Why did I eat that bug!” Matthew’s admiration turns to jealousy like the flick of a flame. He sighs again and the air pushes out of his helmet. Caaaaa….

“I don’t think she noticed you eating it,” You reply in earnest with the slight raise of your shoulders. 

“You think?”

“I wouldn’t dwell too long on it.” 

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I fear our lovers are going to have a shit time next chapter. Hope you like even more angst :)

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart

[mixiury]

Sunlight knocking outside of your window.

Character(s): Wanderer x GN Reader

Warning(s): Depressive thoughts and in general signs of depression.

Summary: When days seems meaningless, someone is there for you. (OR how he helps you during a depressive episode)

A/N: I wrote this as a comfort for myself a year ago or so. I never meant to publish it but, now that I am in a better place, I thought that it may help anyone who is going through the same, so here it is <3 Requests are open btw!

Shivers run through your body despite being covered in sheets and blankets. Everything is so cold, the type that numbs out your senses until all you can feel is the freezing sensation taking your body. Just the idea of getting out of the bed is unimaginable, too tired to even move from your position.

All corners in the room sumerge you in their darkness, as if waiting to consume you whole. You don't resist it. There is just not point on it. Instead you close your eyes and let it drive, taking you whatever it wishes. Maybe if you pray hard enough you will be somewhere else. A unreachable place where pain can't find you, far away from your own mind.

Just five more minutes of sleep never hurt anybody, and sometimes resigning is far better than keep fighting an endless war, but when you open your eyes you are still in your room. Motionless. Fixed to the same thoughts that never seem to leave.

Some days are harder than others, they say, but in reality, they are not. They are incredibly easy, and that somehow makes it worse. You have no right to pity yourself when all you do is eat and sleep for hours, if not days, while other people works so hard to get half of what you have. It's shameful, really, but you can't force yourself to care enough to do something about it.

You try not to focus too much in your surroundings, intentionally ignoring all the clothes and papers around your bed. They are in the floor too, memorizing exactly the place of everything just so you don't step on them. It has be getting harder as more and more trash gather around, but everytime you set your mind in cleaning something comes out. You just don't have time for it, you often tell yourself. Maybe, if you say it enough times, one day you will believe it.

Actually, what time is it? The urge to check your phone suddenly overcomes you, although quickly give up on it when you realize it is completely dead. It doesn't even matter, you think. Days are all the same anyways, your shrug it off. You don't even remember the last time you did anything outside of roting in your room. Your memory has gotten worse, or maybe it has gotten better because, when you have nothing to do, everything is a little reminder of it.

How you wish you could just sleep this uncomfortable feeling crawling off your chest as worms eating your flesh, yet, despite how tired you are, your body stubbornly refuse to shut itself off once again. It must have gotten tired of that too, you just hoped it would do the same with you. But as much you would like that to happen, all you can do is stare at the ceiling. In a weird, incomprehensible way, It stares back.

It's impossible to know how long you stay like that, it could have been hours just as it could have been minutes, but what brings you back to reality is a knock on your door, the numbness suddenly replaced with annoyance as you slowly realize it won't stop anytime soon. The person outside of your room must know how stubborn you can be, because at some point they just stop knocking and abruptly break in. Rude. Maybe you should be scared that someone was able to get inside your house that easily, but instead you only burry yourself in your blankets, the light from the outside dazzling you.

Doesn't take you to see his face or hear his voice to know who is the intruder, although the recognition doesn't make it any better nor your annoyance any less.

"How do you even walk in here?"

"Good morning for you too."

"It's 5 pm. In what world is that morning?"

"In mine."

"And in it is this good too?"

"Definitely not after you burst through my door."

You hope that he would finally get the message, turn around and leave you alone, but all he does is huff and start gathering things off the floor, matching your own stubbornness. Although irritating, you know better that try to kick him out, already familiar with this routine between the two of you everytime you or him fall into these "episodes", coming unwelcome to the other's place just to check if they are still alive, most of the time after a week or two of not news or signs of life.

It is an unsaid agreement that you both did when opening to each other for the first time, something you sometimes are grateful of and others regret it, specially when he is the one breaking in and not the other way around. You wonder if he feels the same, but either way, none of you ever talk about it.

"Don't move anything, you are just going to make it worse."

"Stop whining and be grateful I'm doing this in the first place. Your whole room is already a mess, there is literally no way to make it worse."

Your mind screams to tell him how you know the place of every single thing on the floor and how he is just desorginizing your whole complex system you carefully created, but that would just start an argument about how stupid that is and you just don't have the energy for it right now. Yet, with the blankets on top of you to still cover the light, you decide to throw him a dirty petty look, one which once again is matched by him at first and later ignored.

Finally, you give up, fully using the blankets as a shelter and burying yourself in them like before.

Speak feels too much, listen feels too much, eat feels too much, get up feels too much, sleep feels too much, exist feels too much. You can't even continue staring at the ceiling because that would mean uncover your eyes completely and the lights are also too much for your eyes. All you wish is for Wanderer to give up on you just like you gave up in yourself, maybe if he did you wouldn't feel as a burden anymore. Maybe you would finally stop caring at all. But when has Wanderer ever listened to someone besides himself? Just like talking to a rock, or in this case, puppet.

"Stop overthinking. Self pity won't take you anywhere."

His voice guides you out of your thoughts, but not out of the all consuming emptiness and loneliness that usually fallows with them. He knows it all well, the feeling of just wanting to dissapear out of thin air to never be remembered nor found. That should be comforting, yet it isn't. Understanding does nothing against it, pity makes it worse, and help is terrifying, no matter from who it comes.

"All I want is to go back to sleep." Half a truth. You don't need to finish that sentence for him to get it.

"When was the last time you ate anything?"

What were you supposed to answer to that? You don't even know what day is it. It could have been just some hours just as it could have been days. Last time you checked your fridge there was nothing left to eat so you just went back to the bed and haven't bothered of eating anything ever since. You should have ordered something, anything, but you must stink after so many time without showering and you just didn't want to interact with anyone like that.

"Time is relative."

You try to hide it but embarrassment crawl out of your body as the realization kicks in, hands instinctively reaching for your pillow and using it to cover yourself with that too. If seeing your room was bad this was ten times worse. You haven't noticed until now, but your hair is greasy and your clothes sweaty, sticking to your skin in a very uncomfortable way. Although your nose can't catch it, it would be surprising if you don't smell too, for once grateful that your friend doesn't exactly have a human body to notice that.

Now, besides feeling completely useless, you also feel self conscious, isn't this so great?

He sighs and you are so sure he is going to leave. It is weird, all this time everything wanted is for him to get out as soon as possible, but now that feels so degrading, not that you would blame him if he does.

"I'll cook something but first I need you to get out of the bed."

Of course. You almost forgot this is Wanderer.

"I don't want to get up."

He stares at you. You stare back harder. All those stare competitions with the ceiling will have to paid off somehow.

Both of you stay like that until he finally resigns for the first time today, going back to clean around. It is surprising how he did so much in about an hour, actually being able to see the floor now. You will just blame his anemo vision for it, because the alternative is that you are just useless at literally picking stuff from the floor and you aren't really fan of that conclusion.

You must have spaced out because the next thing you feel is the weight of the bed suddenly shifting, Wanderer getting on it too as he ignores all the stuff on top of it. Your mind begs you to push him away, but your body moves a little to the edge, giving him the space to actually fit. Maybe any other day you two would fall into a teasing exchange, mocking each other and trying to get under the skin of the other only to forget how the conversation started in the first place. However, as familiar you are with those conversations, it just doesn't feel right anymore. Not right now.

"Here is what we are going to do; We stay in bed for 15 minutes more, after that we stand up and you go and take a shower while I cook you something. When we are done we can watch a movie, play something or hang out outside, what do you say?"

"Make it twelve minutes, let me pick the movie AND the games. You have terrible taste."

"Fine, but then you agree to open the windows because this place looks like a fucking cave. Also, I refuse to play Animal Crossing."

"Animal Crossing is way better than any other game you play."

"My choice is final. We can still play that stupid cult game where you are a goat or something."

"Is a lamb."

"Whatever, we have a deal?"

"Do I even have any other choice?"

Wanderer smiles slightly, greedy and proud, while you reluctantly accept your final defeat for today. The only difference is that, this time, you don't feel as alone as before, forming a smile of your own too. Maybe a little of light isn't so bad after all.

[redbleedingrose]

Always Epilogue Part 2

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Word count: ~6.2K Warnings: minor spice, fluff, first time writing Masterlist, Epilogue Part 1 A/N: I want to start off by saying, I am so sorry this took so long to come out with. I am not super happy with it, but it is here and this is the end. As always, please please please like, reblog and comment. I love hearing your guys' thoughts. It always means so so much to me. I can't believe I made it this far. The fact I have written a series is mind blowing to me. I hope you guys at least like it <3 Love y'all so much!!!

6 Months 

Ever since your conversation months ago, Azriel had done everything in his power to spend time with you, to give you his undivided attention, to ensure that you knew he was sorry, that he took responsibility for his actions, that he would try to be better, that you were the only one he could ever want, the only one he would ever need. 

As the days went on, you spent more and more time with Azriel, and you noticed a change in him. There was a brightness in his laughter, he smiled more fully, more easily, and his general demeanor, his aura, the way he carried himself, had fully relaxed. It had become more open. His wings were often flared out, expanding into their full span and never compressed tightly against his back, like he had stopped using them to cause him discomfort. You had even noticed a change in his shadows behavior, once standing at attention in every setting, slithering across rooms to figure out who exactly was present, were now swirling freely around you both, tracing up your figure and tugging at your wrist, your waist, your hips, your thighs, anywhere they could wrap themselves around, pulling you closer to their master. While his shadows were still alert and oriented to their surroundings, intent on keeping you safe, they had become more subdued, almost less angry, less rabid. Even the people of Valeris were starting to notice the change in the shadowsinger. Before, they had been too fearful of the male to send a greeting his way, nodding in acknowledgement, then turning hastily away to avoid his dark gaze, his shadows a threatening presence surrounding him. Now, the people were readily, openly, waving at him, even comfortable enough to begin conversations with the male they once feared. 

And the changes in you had become… palpable. 

The constant presence of Az had left with the warmth of his presence, a constant contentedness. You woke up feeling fully rested, ready, excited even, to start a new day with your mate. The bags under your eyes had smoothed into your skin, and your smile lines grew deeper as the laughter you shared with Az became more frequent and fuller. Every moment you spent with him reminded you all over of why you had fallen for him initially. All the things you had shared with him over the years about your likes and dislikes, he had apparently stored into his mind, holding them close to his heart as he decided what he wanted to do with you, for you. He outdid himself every time. Every single time. Every time he took you somewhere, everytime he brought you tiny gifts, every time he whispered hushed murmurs into your hair as you cuddled, you felt loved. You felt cherished. You felt adored. 

Decades ago, you had mentioned your love for stargazing, even going as far as to change your sleep schedule to live nocturnally just so you could have the best view of the stars. It was a common thing in Velaris, something that a lot of the townspeople enjoyed. It worked for a couple months, until you were nearly passing out in the middle of training and then Az had forced you into his bed to sleep. He sat across from your splayed out body, legs stretched out with his back leaning against the oak bed frame reading his book, ignoring your protests as his shadows held your waist down to the bed. He didn’t even lift up his gaze from the story he was apparently engrossed in when he sternly replied, “sleep first, talk later.” Eventually the cool touch of his shadows and the warmth that radiated off the male had you slipping into a deep sleep. You had woken up six hours later to Az in the same position. He hadn’t moved besides turning the page to his book, watching over you as you slept. When his hazel eyes drifted toward your half lidded glare, he smirked and huffed out a laugh, “Welcome back to the land of the living sleeping beauty.” The nickname had your heart fluttering, you ignored it as you cleared your throat and muttered back a hiss that had Az nearly rolling in laughter. 

You looked back at the memory with a certain fondness, hints of his love emulating through his acts of friendship. And it seems he hadn’t forgotten any of it. Not that night. Not the stargazing. The first date he had taken you on, he had woken you up in the middle of the night when the rest of the city was still asleep, grasping at your ankle and yanking you out from under your warm blankets. He burst out in laughter at your meek attempts to smack his chest, pulling you into his embrace and pressing a long kiss into your temple murmuring apologies before taking the blanket off your bed and wrapping it around you. He flew you to the house of wind where there was a wool blanket laid out on the roof, you gasped at the array of freshly cut fruit, croissants, biscuits, cheeses and bread resting atop it. The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight, giving you an unobstructed view of the twinkling stars in the night sky. Azriel tucked you under his arm as you settled down next to him, wrapping his wing around you to keep you warm as he pointed up at the sky, listing each and every constellation that was visible to the naked eye, recounting the legends that came with them, legend of goddess’ fighting with the gods, stories of the earliest night court rulers and how they came to be. When you had finally gathered the courage to ask when he had taken the time to learn about all of these constellations, he casually shrugged, mumbling the fact that he had gone to the deepest parts of the library searching for these stories, searching for the different night skies and all the constellations they held, and had memorized each and every one of them. Where they were in the sky, and the stories associated with them. Just for you. Just to impress you. Just to show you how much he cared. 

The fact he had gone out of his way to learn about your interests, the fact he spent his free time for months memorizing small intricate details despite his busy life being spymaster, just for you. Gods, he had your heart palpitating just from that. 

The next week, he had taken you to the rainbow, insisting on buying you whatever you wanted without any limit. And when you had insisted you didn’t need anything new, that you had everything you wanted, he laced his marred fingers with yours, peppering kisses into the back of your hand before pulling you into different stores. He patiently browsed through the dresses, the makeup, the jewelry himself, picking out what he wanted to buy for you, imploring you to try out his choices and to pick some of your own. When you had finally given in, he had smiled so widely, so fully, your cheeks had flushed. The entire day he had spent, flattering you with compliments on how beautiful and elegant you looked, spoiling you with different clothes and shoes and whatever your heart desired, claiming all the while that you were the most entrancing female he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. 

A couple of days later, he had flown you out to the libraries in Day Court just to spend the entire afternoon picking out books for each other to read. When you found your picks, he led you to one of the gardens outside, sitting down next to you in a bench swing, pressing his entire side into yours, contently reading your pick for him. The book he had chosen for you had been a lovely, heartbreaking, remarkable tale of an antihero finding peace in his life with his wife and two twin girls. At some point during your reading, you had glanced up to find Az silently watching you. His tan cheeks flushed under your gaze, smiling sheepishly at you as he played with your fingers, embarrassed to have been caught admiring you in the sunlight. You gently chuckled, leaning up to press a soft kiss into his burning cheek before resting your head against his shoulder, falling back into the depths of your book, feeling perfectly content in his presence, feeling at peace in his presence, like there was nothing to worry about when he was around. And that is how Azriel made you feel. Safe. Content. At peace. Joyful. Full of life. 

This morning was no different. He had shown up before sunrise, pressing gentle kisses all over your face to wake you. He had already picked out your clothes, a lace blue top with waist high pants, setting them out before waiting on the balcony for you to get ready. As you walked out, his jaw nearly fell to the floor, hazel eyes sparkling as he admired you. “You are the most stunning female to have ever existed, my love,” his lips brushed against your ear, murmuring his tender worship before pulling you into his grasp, wrapping your legs around his waist and securing his arm around your hips as he pushed you both into the sky, carrying you to distant mountains in the horizon where you hiked up a long empty forested trail so you could watch the sunrise at the peak. The pink melting with gold and blue was one of the most stunning views you had ever seen, enhanced with the humming of your bond as Azriel’s arms found themselves locked around your waist, stroking at your belly. The silence you shared wasn’t an empty one. It was utter tranquility. When the sun had risen into the sky,  you turned to wrap your arms around Az’s waist, thanking him for giving you this experience. He only smiled, leaning down to kiss your temple, murmuring into your hair as he buried himself further into your arms that your day together wasn’t ending here, that this was only the beginning, how he had wanted to start of the day by bringing you to one of the hidden treasures of Night Court that he had found during his years of work as spymaster.

You spent a couple of more moments soaking in the warmth of the sun before following Azriel down a winding path that seemed to disappear into the brush. You gripped his hand the entire way down, his thumb stroking at your knuckles, your shared puffs of breath the only sound besides the morning doves coos. You walked for what seemed like miles, until finally, the path Az took you on ended at what seemed to be an opening through the trees. You gasped at the site before you, a remote cabin cafe near the bottom of the mountain that neighbored a waterfall. The water spilling over the edge of the cliff had turned golden from the sunrays, and the fresh mist created a cool sheen around you and Az. He quickly kissed your cheek before rushing inside to grab you a warm egg and cheese sandwich and coffee that he had promised would be the best breakfast you would ever have. The cafe had a porch overlooking the waterfall where the mist could still float onto the patrons without overwhelming them, and you found a little corner nook that seemed like the perfect view to the waterfall and surrounding foliage. Your mate finally rejoined you, sandwiches and coffee in toe, sitting down next to you to take in the scene. 

You had spent the rest of your day there, quietly conversing with Az about anything and everything that came to mind. Laughter was shared between the two of you, along with openly shared loving gazes sent to one another. To think that months ago, you were nearly considering rejecting him as a mate… the thought was nearly sickening now. Any time you mind accidentally drifted to it, your stomach would squeeze and your heart would drop. Every time though, the second Az would squeeze your thigh with his warm hand, you would forget. He sat so freely. His wings were relaxed, nearly drooping on the ground as one was leaning into your back against the chair. The sight of his damp curly ink hair pressing against his forehead, his tan skin highlighted, nearly glowing, by the sun, hazel eyes bright next to the waterfall that glowed with starlight left you breathless. He was truly, and effortlessly, the most beautiful male you had ever known to exist. And to think he felt similarly about you was nearly unbelievable. But here he was, constantly voicing his belief in your beauty, not as an opinion, but as pure fact. 

An hour before sunset, Az insisted on eating an early dinner before setting off on your next adventure. The cafe owner, an older female, who was gentle as she was kind, brought out a full fledged meal consisting of beef stew, loafs of freshly baked bread, and mash coupled with a bottle of wine. She hugged Azriel, kissing the top of his head as she sung his praises, rambling on about how, “he has spent decades talking about you dear, really, I am surprised he finally found the courage to bring you,” and “you are so beautiful dear, Azzy could not have done you justice even if he tried.” The poor male turned red at the nickname, staring you down as a smirk lilted your lips, knowing that endless teasing was about to befall him the moment the female walked back inside. “Azzy?” you mouthed at him, only to have your foot gently pulled by his shadows in reply. The female squeezed your hands after setting down the food, her honeyed eyes gazing into yours, simmering with joy, “I am so happy you are here. The hours this young male has spent loving you is beyond comprehension,” turning to Az with a wink, patting his shoulder before walking back inside. You sat for a moment, a bit stunned by her words, staring at the squirming male before you, it nearly made you laugh how shy he got under your gaze. You pressed your lips together into a warm smile, gesturing at the food, “Let’s eat sweets.” 

Despite being stuffed full, your mate insisted on getting a dessert the two of you could share, “It is the best cake you will ever try dove, I am telling you.” The smell of pineapple wafting from the plate had been so mouthwatering as he set it down in front of you, you almost immediately began digging in. The spymaster, however, snatched your spoon right out of your grasp, chucking it into the forest as you gaped at him, “what the fuck Azriel?” He smirked in reply, picking up his spoon, and scooping the whipped cream off the cake, nonchalantly popping it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. You gasped in confusion, but before you could ask him what the hell he was doing, he scooped another part of the cake onto his spoon, this time holding it out to you. You reached up to take the spoon from his grasp, but he, again, pulled away. “What the hell, Az?” you exasperatedly rolled your eyes as he held out the spoon to you again, “What game are you playing?” 

He huffed out a laugh, clearly amused by your annoyance, “No games sweetheart, just wanna feed you myself.” Your continued gaping had his expression dropping into one of shyness, a blush spreading across his cheeks as embarrassment began to fill within him, “I– I’m sorry. Did I overstep?” You opted to not respond, giving him a taste of his own medicine for a moment, watching as he began squirming in his seat, this time holding out the spoon for you to grab onto, clearly uncomfortable that he may have crossed a boundary, that he may have upset you. After a couple of seconds, you decided you had had enough of teasing the poor male, leaning forward, enclosing your lips around the spoon, keeping your eyes locked on his. The cream melted in your mouth, and you shut your eyes, humming around the spoon before pulling away to watch Azriel’s reaction. His flush had spread across his face towards his neck and ears as he shifted in his seat, wings flaring at his sides as he stared at you, his jaw dropping when you hummed again, winking as your tongue slipped out to lick the cream that had been left on your lips. 

You giggled in delight, a shot of electricity coursing through your veins as the scent of the shadowsinger had shifted into something deeper, more musky, something more delicious that had you craving more than just the dessert before you. You spent the next couple of minutes going back and forth, allowing Az to feed you a bite and then himself, playing a coy game of seduction with the spymaster with your tiny moans and winking. With the last crumbs of the cake dropping into your mouth, you were close to begging him to take you right there on the table, but before you could utter out a word, he interrupted you, a soft look replacing his heated one, “I brought you here for a reason, Y/N.” 

You sighed, slightly disappointed at the shift in the mood, but accepting it rather quickly as curiosity began to seep into you, “Oh?” urging him to continue. 

He nodded, his scarred hand coming onto the table, clasping onto yours as he pulled you out of your seat and into his embrace. You lifted your hands to caress his muscled arms before landing on his chest, smoothing down the wrinkles that had formed on his shirt from the hours spent under the mist of the waterfall. “I– I hurt you deeply on Starfall. I ruined the night for you– for us. There is no making up for it, my love. But I heard that there was going to be a rare meteor shower tonight that would be visible from the peak of the mountain right after sunset. It is no Starfall… but… I want,” he sighed, pulling at the back of your shirt in nerves, “I want to redo that night with you, if you’ll let me?” 

You were, for what seems like the hundredth time today, stunned by Azriel. Stunned by his thoughtfulness. Stunned by his love. Never in a million years did you think he would ever think to do something like this for you. He brought you to the peak of this mountain to watch the sunrise, claiming it as a wonder of the night court. He brought you to this lovely cafe where you spent the entire day enjoying each other's presence, enjoying the openness of the bond you shared. He had spent the past couple of weeks, months, just loving you, adoring you the way he wanted to for decades but hadn’t. You hadn’t suggested anything, you hadn’t forced him to do any of it. This was all him. It was nearly overwhelming, the love he was showing you so unapologetically, so truthfully, so thoughtfully. You could feel the urge to cry building up, this time from joy. Joy that your mate was giving you so generously, over and over again. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just…” He pulled you closer, pressing your body against his as he inhaled, “I hate how Starfall turned out this year. I just… I just want to do…” He paused once again, recollecting himself, a wry smile appearing on his face at the gentle squeeze you pressed into his shoulders, “I want to make it up to you. I want this to be our mini Starfall this year. But truly… if you don’t feel up for it, we can go home and do whatever you want… or I mean, I can leave as well if you want to spend the rest of your night alone, I understand completely, it's been a long day milling about and–” 

You cut him off before he could ramble on, quickly shaking your head, “No, Az, please. I want to see the meteor shower with you,” yanking your mate down into a bear hug, burying your face into his neck as you sent waves of love down the bond which he immediately returned with ten times the force you had used. He inhaled the scent of your hair, rubbing his hands up and down your back, squeezing at the back of your neck, soaking in the comfort you were providing. You held each other for a couple of more minutes, letting his shadows enclose you two into darkness. 

And then, without warning, Azriel pulled himself away, a huge grin pulling at his lips. 

“Azriel,” you shrieked, breathlessly laughing into the shadowsinger’s muscled back as he threw you over his shoulder swiftly, securing his arm around your thighs before he took off into flight, ascending with no extra effort despite carrying your weight on one of his sides. You clutched at his belt, adrenaline pumping through your veins, not because you were afraid he would drop you, but instead because of the thrill of the moment of intimacy shifting into one of playfulness, “We are gonna be late, my dove, we need to hurry or else we will miss it,” he merrily shouted back. 

You shifted slightly, turning your face towards his back so he could hear you, your teasing voice barely reaching his eardrums over the sounds of the wind whipping around you, “And whose fault is that?” You gasped as the male landed a swift smack on your ass, following it with a gentle bite on the clothed flesh. You kicked your feet, wriggling in his embrace which he only tightened, “How was I supposed to know you would take forever in eating our dessert, my love?” The carefree tone he used highlighted the ease the spymaster felt as he flew you to the peak of the mountain, night falling hastily as the heavens began to peak through the dark. 

You stood with your back against his chest, his arms secured around your waist as you both stared up at the sky. His wings had encircled you completely, providing their warmth when you had shivered against the chill of the wind. He had done it almost reflexively, like he hadn’t even thought of it. The moment he felt the slight shift in your stance, his wings strung around you to blanket you. You patiently waited, leaning into Az, resting the back of your head into his chest, admiring the brightness of the stars and the moons. 

And then, a bright streak lit the night sky. You gasped at the beauty, the meteor leaving a trail of stardust that twinkled in a prism of color, the sky merely morphed around the pressure of the spinning rock. And then another streaked across the night sky. And then another. And another. And another. Until the night sky had brightened into an aurora of meteors, the stardust twinkling brighter than any of the stars in the background. Tears lined your eyes at the beauty of the sight. Never had you seen anything like this. Starfall didn’t even compare in terms of the magnificence to this. 

“Azriel,” You paused, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “Thank you. This is so, so stunning.” Your hands gripped at the muscles of his arms that were wrapped around you, squeezing as tightly as you could. He strengthened his embrace around you, kissing your neck, then the lobe of your ear, and then your temple before resting his chin atop of your head, “The depths of my love for you are endless, my dove. You don’t ever need to thank me. Not for tonight. Not for today. Not for any of this. You deserve every ounce of love and affection I have for you. All of it belongs to you. And I can guarantee you that this sight… it does not even begin to match your beauty.” 

A while after, Azriel had laid out the same wool blanket he had used on the roof of the house of wind months ago, allowing for you to lay down, one of his shoulders supporting the back of your head. Occasionally, he would lean down to press kisses into your temple or your forehead, or just to smell your hair sending strokes of warmth, peace, content, and love down your bond that was now singing. Your hand had searched for his, interlocking your fingers together the second you found it, rubbing the scarred skin with your thumb, lifting it up every once and a while to kiss every ridge and line that marred the back of his hand and palm. 

And you stayed that way, for hours and hours until the meteor shower had stopped, the moons and the remaining aurora now being the only source of light in the night sky. You turned, shifting to rest your chin against his chest, leaning up every once and a while to kiss his sharp jawline. His iris’ flickered back and forth between yours, caught in a deep thought that he murmured out after kissing the tip of your nose, “You know dove, I have always felt so terrible about my hands. I hate the way they look. I hate the way they are ruined by the horrors of my past. I– I torture people, and sometimes I think that maybe the mother left my hands marred because of how I use them to hurt others.” His eyes grew distant, as if he was remembering the sins of his past, the sins of his future. “Stop that, Azriel. Right now.” You pulled his hands into your chest, holding them close to your heart, “You protect the Night Court with these hands. You protect the people of Valeris with these hands. You protect your high lord and lady with these hands. And you protect me with these hands. These beautiful, perfect hands are nothing to be ashamed of, my love. I absolutely adore every crevice, every ridge, every inch of these hands. Honestly, they are my favorite part about you.” 

He stared at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of a lie, but he couldn’t find any. A small smirk lilted at his lips, “Your favorite part, dove? I can promise you that one day, that will change.” You snorted at his cheekiness, a small… maybe a large, secret part of you believing him. But there was no way you were going to tell him that. You would, however, meet his teasing with your own, “I worship every part of you Azriel, don't you know that?” You pushed yourself up, using his chest as your anchor, lifting your leg over his to move yourself into his lap. His grip shifted from your hands to the curve of your hip,  “Oh?” he asked breathlessly, his pupils blown wide as his hazel iris’ darkened into a deeper, burnt shade of brown. 

“Oh yes, Azriel” you leaned down, a hair's-width separating your lips from his. His breathing quickened, feeling his heart begin to race beneath where your hands were placed on his chest, you closed the distance, licking at his parted lips, sliding your tongue across the plump of his bottom lip. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned into your parted mouth, suckling on your prodding tongue, reclasping his hands at your hips, tightening their hold as you began undulating against him, locking your lips together as the sounds of his groans filled the night air. 

10 months

You stood in the kitchen, silently stirring the soup that you were warming for dinner tonight, lost in thought and missing your mate dearly. Azriel had gone off on a mission to Dawn a couple of days ago with a promise of being back as soon as possible. And true to his word, earlier in the evening, he had sent word that he was back in Valeris, but he would need to debrief with Cass and Rhys before he could join you. The moment you had received word, you had moved to the kitchen, ready to eat dinner with your mate and then stay up with him for the rest of the night. And maybe… maybe you would keep him in bed with you, and refuse to let him go. 

You smiled to yourself when you heard the door to your balcony open, pushing the soup off the stove, and running towards your bedroom where he stood at the doorway waiting for you. You didn’t hold back, leaping into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning in to press passionate kisses into his lips. He smiled into each kiss, chuckling at your eagerness, holding you up by your ass and kicking the glass door shut behind him. He continued moving his lips against yours as he carried you out of the room, slowing your kisses into softer ones, and then into pecks before plopping you onto the couch. He didn’t hesitate for a second, pushing your legs apart to rest his own in between them and nuzzling into your neck as he flopped his entire body weight onto you. 

You laid together in silence, one of your hands running up in the space between the spymaster’s wings, massaging at the tender knots, all the while allowing his shadows to play with your hair. “They missed you,” Az murmured as he pressed open mouthed kisses into your neck, running his fingers up and down your side, feeling every curve, indentation, every part of you that belonged to him. You hummed in reply, preening at Azriel’s attention, your other hand fumbling with the locket he had given you decades ago, twisting and turning it between your fingers, and then opening and shutting it creating a soft clicking noise. 

Azriel pulled away, letting out a soft chuckle, before fingering the locket away from you, rubbing at the constellations and the poem engraved into the solid gold, “What does it mean Az?” Your honeyed tone encouraging his shadows to sing back sweet nothings at their master's love. 

He stayed silent for a moment, a shy smile gracing his beautiful face, a raw contrast of his usual stoicness, his fearlessness, and yet, here he lay before you. With every part of his soul bare, every part of his heart exposed to allow for you to do whatever you wish to it. He burrowed his face back into your neck, suddenly shy, hiding the flush that crept up his neck to the pointed tips of his ears, “It’s a poem, dove,” his words slurring together, drunk on the feeling of you pressed against him. Your now free hand reached down to play with the scarred fingers of his free hand, his breath catching every time you lifted one to press a gentle kiss into the flesh. 

A huff teared through your lips as you nipped at the pad of his pinky finger, quickly soothing the sting with a kitten lick that had the spymaster’s wings flaring as his body shuddered against yours. “I figured that out for myself Az,” you paused, shifting your gaze down to his, throwing one of your legs around his waist, “I mean what does it translate to?” He stared at you for another moment, eyes shifting between yours, studying you, memorizing you. Memorizing the way your hair frames your face, memorizing the way the warmth of the flames creating a soft glow to your skin, memorizing the color of your eyes that he can never find the words to describe the beauty of, memorizing the way your eyebrows move independently allowing him hints of your emotions, memorizing the teasing smirk you flashed at him that had his heart skipping a couple of beats. The words slipped out between his pink lips as smoothly as water flowing through a river, 

“Oh my beloved.

You have taken my darkness, 

As the light of a bright shining star that is you.

I am yours. 

I’m a dark darkness, and you are my enchanting light.

You are my golden morning sun,

You are my silver moonlight.

I am yours, Oh my beloved.”

Every word came with a pulse of love down your bond, a pulse of longing, a pulse of worship, a pulse of devotion. It built up inside you, a welcome sensation, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of yearning that ended in a tender passionate love that you carried for the shadowsinger, for the spymaster of the night court, for the male laying before you, for your best friend, for the love of your life, for your mate. Az sucked in a shaky breath, pausing, his eyes flickering with a fervor and nerves, but otherwise, was still, with his hand pressed into the curve of your waist, letting the heat seep in through the fabric of your dress. The only sign of movement in the room came from his shadows that swirled around you, encompassing you both into a comfortable emptiness that separated reality in this moment, from the reality of the outside world. 

Even in the darkness, you could feel his eyes hadn’t left yours. He hadn’t left you. The steam of warm air that slipped passed his lips pressed a gentle kiss into yours, reminding you, he would never ever leave you. The candescence of his voice lulled your racing heart as you reeled at his ballad, your mind dissecting every word and phrase that he, Azriel, had chosen to inscribe in the locket you wore since the moment he had gifted it to you. After another shaky inhale, he continued, 

“Every sorrow I carry,

Yanked away

As you fill my eyes with your light

As you talk to me without speaking

My world is in your love.

Oh my golden morning sun, 

Oh my silver moonlight,

Oh my beloved, I am yours.”

“Oh Azriel…” his shy smile returned as he studied your reaction to his words. You didn’t have anything to say. There were no words that you could say, that you could even think of saying that could properly express the way you were feeling right now. So you reached down to grasp his chin, leaning down to move your lips against his in a series of kisses that echoed with the love you poured down the bond. After a couple of moments, the timer for the oven went off. And you forced yourself away after another rush of kisses, taking a deep sigh, pushing him off your body but pulling him up with you to follow you into the kitchen. You seated him at the small dining table, resting your hands on his shoulders, leaning in for another kiss which he gladly returned, eager for more. A low hum was tugging at your bond as you slowly moved away, putting your oven mitts, opening the door to it, allowing the warm air to rush against your face as you pulled out and set before Azriel, a blueberry pie. Your mate's favorite dessert. You shakily smiled at him as his shocked gaze turned away from the piping hot dessert to you. You nervously wrung your hands together, “And the constellation?” 

His throat bobbed, “The…” He stared up at you, mouth opening and closing as he continued to swallow on the air that had suddenly left him, “The what?” His eyes flicked back and forth between yours as you seated yourself next to him, leaning forward to cut a slice out of the pie to place in front of him. “What does the constellation mean, my love?” His body shook as you took the fork that was resting on the table, trembling as you picked it up and cut through the edge of the pie on the plate, bringing it up to your lips to blow some air to cool it down. 

“It was the only constellation that was present in the night sky the day we met,” he muttered, his hazel eyes suddenly lined with tears as he held his breath watching your slow movements. 

A tear escaped, slipping down his cheek as you nodded in understanding, smiling at your mate as you brought the pie to his lips. He didn’t move, hazel iris’ needing to know. Needing to know if this was what he thought it was. If this was you offering food because you were accepting the mating bond. “Please Az. Eat the pie, and let me accept the bond.” A choked sob exhaled past his lips as he took a gasp of relief, your own tears of happiness streaming down your cheek as he leaned forward, humming as he stuffed the bite into his mouth, the golden thread tying you together, glowing and singing with acceptance and love. He pushed the plate away the second he finished swallowing, yanking you into his lap, kissing every tear that had spilled past your cheeks away before finally, slotting his lips against yours. “I love you so much, my beautiful mate, my dove,” he murmured out in between gasps as your hands cupped his cheeks closer, pressing your lips together harder, “I love you too Az, always.”

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003@brekkershadowsinger@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy@azzydaddy@bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli@solossweater@rubygirly@hanasakr@ellievickstar @shadowcrossworld @lucyysthings@cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhv @flyingsquids @adreamerforthestars@lahoete@mis-lil-red@his-sweet-nightmare@esposadomd@blurredlamplight@elizarikaallen@tiffthebookworm@valeridarkness@wifeofcamillamacaulay @everyonehatescarmen  @azriels-favorite-simp@goldentournesol@marina468@elsie-bells@slvtherinseeker@cafe-inaaa@honeyrydernot@itsonlymemyself-and-i@nemesis6666@thegirlintheshadows101-blog@kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (Nicknamed Poppy)

WC: 6600

Warning: 18+ Blog/Minors will be blocked; Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

A/N: We’ll, there’s a lot here. This week was draining with a teething/no sleeping babe— but I was determined to get this finished! I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m excited for this part of their story! Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey again for her support and proofreading every week! And thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with these two dumb dumbs as they figure their shit out. Love you all!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Next

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

Dieter wills himself to regulate the adrenaline surging through him, it has his muscles tingling as its increasing levels spread through every pliable fiber. 

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

He takes in his surroundings, a steady attempt at grounding his mind, assuring him, keeping him present, giving him a chance to regain his composure. 

He Sees…

The ornate tile that dresses the front steps to your Spanish Revival home, the perfect backdrop to the ‘welcome’ mat that greets him the minute he arrives to your place. 

The sturdy wooden door attached to your home that keeps you protected, allowing you to live comfortably and securely without a bother from the outside world. 

The well maintained landscape, no real knowledge of the specific varieties of plants that decorate the front, he senses a low maintenance and drought tolerant feel— a few things he had never heard of until moving in with Diem. 

The way the sky begins to shift from its golden orange and purple hues to an even shade of deep blue as the sun tucks behind the horizon line, welcoming the stillness of the night. 

The way he is actively replaying an episodic memory of you from just an hour ago when you had joined him at Diem’s house to read over his lines for his upcoming movie role. 

*

“Are you sure you even want me doing this? I don’t know a single thing about acting. Can’t Diem help?? I don’t want to mess you up.” 

It’s been a few days since the Capri re-grand opening. And a few days since yours and Dieter’s almost kiss. 

There hasn’t really been a discussion on what had happened, or almost happened, only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen each other since Dieter had to leave to take Wren home. 

Now you find yourselves sitting in Diem’s living room, on opposite ends of her sectional couch, ignoring the residual heat that is currently reigniting as you both look over the scripts you’re each holding— alone together, zero distractions. 

“This scene is between two people who are navigating a new relationship, dancing around the sexual tension between them—“

The coincidence not lost on you. 

“So, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d read through this with my sister. And I doubt she’d want to anyways, she hates this kinda shit, so I don’t even bother.“

“Okay, I’ll try my best, but if I fuck up—“ 

“You’re not gonna fuck up. I highlighted your lines in pink, just focus on those and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re a teacher— you read stories for a living, just think of it like you’re reading to your class.”

“Dieter, it says right here at the bottom of the page in bold type, ‘HER EYES CLOSE AT HIS TOUCH FOLLOWED BY LOW SENSUAL MOANS’— there’s no fucking way I can imagine myself reading this to my class.” 

You look up from the paper, his eyes already on you. You note the way his neck muscles flex as he swallows, the grip on his paper a little tighter— you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this. 

*

He touches…

The weight of his chip, the brass cool against his warm clammy skin, pulling it from his pocket, it sits heavy in his palm— a quick reminder that who he was doesn’t define him now. A few light tosses, before gripping it with his thumb and his forefinger, one last look before returning it to his pocket. 

The compact device that connects him to everything important to him in a single touch, his finger navigating back and forth between the home screen image of Wren and him eating donuts then to the text you had sent not long after leaving Diem’s house — Poppy💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it — Then double checking the numbers on the house match the ones that you sent after he text back asking if he could come over tonight— a perfect match. 

The silky strands of his ruffled dark brown hair as he tries to tame his wild curls, the cottony fabric of his gray weathered shirt pulling at it in such a way so it drapes over him just right, the rough texture of his faded jeans against his sweaty hands as he rubs them several times over where they hug his thighs— a blind once over of his appearance. 

The way his hand skims over the velvety skin above your knee, the hem of your dress delicately dancing over his fingertips, the faint scar that now lives on the side of your thigh from a biking accident as a kid lays uneven under his gentle graze. 

*

“Is this okay?” 

Somewhere between shared lines, and fiery dialogue, Dieter finds himself sitting closer to you, his knee brushing against yours—hand so effortlessly placed on your thigh as he checks in with your comfort. 

“Y-yeah— it says ‘HIS HAND REACHES THE APEX BETWEEN HER THIGHS’, so she would know that his hand is moving up her leg—.” Your voice trembles as you try to concentrate on the words printed in bold on the current page. 

Looking up, you see Dieter’s focus solely on you, his folded script tucked between his leg and the couch cushion. 

“That’s not what I asked.” There's a deep husk to his voice, his movements halted as he draws your attention away from the pages and up to him. “Are you comfortable with this, not what the paper reads or act is telling us to do. Is this okay with you?” Your consent, regardless of what the characters are doing, his number one priority. 

“Y-yeah…” You murmur as you look down to where his hand is still subtly holding your leg. Your attention drawn back to his handsome face, placing your hand on top of his, encouraging him to continue his efforts. 

*

He hears…

The symphonic resonance of the nightfall harmonics drifts through in the crisp evening air, a modest breeze carries the lilt of the chirping crickets throughout the stilled neighborhood, the rustling of the leaves scattered and swirling across the sidewalk, the faint cries of coyote pups awaiting the arrival of their mother who’s been in search of a hearty meal. 

The way his heart beat reverberates against his eardrums, the thudding of his heart an emotive chorus, its pace evening out with each grounding thought. 

The way your breath catches, its auditory staccato floats through the air and nestles somewhere deep within his mind, storing its melodic rhythm away as an echoic file, never wanting to forget how it sounds. 

*

Dieter shifts himself forward, the crunch of the leather puckering as he settles a knee on the cushion, a hand gripping the back of the couch as he angles himself closer. 

The crackle of paper startles you, Dieter grabbing the crumbled heap of papers and tossing it over his shoulder, removing any distractions that might be bothering. 

Bit by bit you allow yourself to fall back onto the mound of decorative pillows in the corner of the couch. Dieter following your lead, keeping a close distance between you as he settled himself between your legs. 

“When is Diem going to be home?” You breathed, a warmth spreads through your body as you fixate on the fact that this is really happening. 

“Don’t know, at least an hour.”

A few loose curls fall into Dieter’s face, you lightly comb them back, the movements unhurried and attentive. Your fingers catching the frames of his glasses in the process, you gingerly remove them from his face, carefully tossing them to the side— producing your favorite lopsided grin from him. 

Dieter pauses to study every little detail of this moment— the flash of want in your eyes, the way your fingertips skim over and around his taut biceps, the deliberate way the tip of your tongue wets your bottom lip before it’s drawn in between your teeth, the way your lungs continue to fill with the air you’re both sharing— he’s never felt more alive than in this moment. 

*

He smells…

The night brings a refreshing scent of calmer air, the aromatic warmth of the citrus  groves meld with the fragrant lavender farms that accumulates throughout the day, the herbal aroma that triggers a distinct nostalgic smell of his childhood. 

The way your perfume mixes with your natural pheromones, the unmistakable notes of musky vanilla and orange blossom paired with your own unique scent stimulates his olfactory nerves, his spine tingling with pleasure as he breathes you in. 

*

Dieter takes his time, deliberate in his own way, he wants to take his time— savor the moment. 

He lowers himself down to the open space where your shoulder meets your neck— warm, delicate and inviting. 

You angle your head, allowing him more space to move, your hands wrapping themselves around his neck, twisting his hair between your fingers. 

Dieter places a soft tentative kiss to your shoulder, then slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the column of your neck, mindful of how responsive you are, nudging at your jaw before stopping.  

“You’re so fucking soft.”  His lips ghosting over your ear, voice honeyed and thick, his hand now situated on your bare hip, thumb toying with the seam of your underwear. 

You nuzzle into the side of his head, his scent provocative in the way you crave it immensely. The smokiness of the sandalwood and cedarwood compliment the spicy musk and floral base— it’s Dieter, wild and delicious. 

*

He tastes…

The ache for sustenance, a morsel of pleasure activates his taste buds, a palatable desire that he craves in hopes to fight off the hunger that plagues him. 

*

A fieriness burns through your body, causing you to lose all ability to properly handle the way Dieter is making you feel— ravenous. You need more, something substantial that satiates the emptiness and the yearning. 

The unfaltering look in his eyes, an unspoken feeling of infatuation that has you melting under his gaze. 

Dieter leans in, gradually closing the gap between his lips and yours, sparking the immediate surge of oxytocin actively flowing through your veins.

 His breath fanning across your lips, warm and minty, a brief remembrance of your almost kiss— several times over. 

This position offers a new approach, angle of motion, feeling the fullness of his bottom lip catch your top lip, your fingers gripping tightly to his hair in anticipation as the weight of his lips begin to slot gently over yours. 

*CLICK* 

“Dieter? I’m home!” Diem announces her arrival. 

Releasing the breath you were holding, grip loosened, warmth lifted— another moment gone. 

“Fuck me!” Dieter grumbles, his forehead falling to your shoulder, your chest vibrating with a silent laugh. 

Dieter places a kiss to your shoulder then pushes himself back from where he had been hovering over you seconds before, helping you to readjust the flowy fabric of your dress, a silent look to you asking “are you okay?”— you nod yes. 

His body slumps back into the cushioned backrest, head falling back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance at Diem’s horrible timing. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here too, Poppy. I dropped Wren off for a playdate and picked up some dinner on the way home. You hungry?” 

“Umm, no I’m good. Actually, I’m going to head out. I’ve got— there’s some things I need to do. So, yeah— I’m gonna go.” 

You feel like two teenagers who were caught by the other’s parents. That awkwardness that looms over afterwards, not really knowing what to say or do. 

You give his leg a light squeeze, pulling his attention back from his sulking, propping himself up with his arms on his knees, grabbing your hand and returning the faint gesture. 

“I’ll text you later.” You mouthed to him before grabbing your items from the coffee table and making your way to the front door. 

“You still on for this Friday?” Diem asks you as she’s unboxing the pizzas she had picked up, arranging a few slices nicely on plates. 

“Yep— yeah! Friday is still good! See you later.” Your response short and to the point as you close the door behind you. 

Dieter can hear the rustling of the wrappers and then a stillness hangs in the air. His back is to where Diem is standing in the kitchen, but he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. 

“What?” 

“Why didn’t you mention she was coming over? I would have grabbed more food, we could have all hung out together.” 

“It was a last minute thing. I asked her to come read lines with me.” 

Diem rounds the couch and places the food on the coffee table, before sitting and making herself comfortable. 

“So… Did you finally kiss her?”

That gets a laugh from Dieter, face falling into his hands at the ridiculousness of Diem’s question. 

“No, I haven’t kissed her.” Tilting his head towards where she’s sitting, chin resting against his clasped hands. 

“Oh my god! You haven’t kissed her yet? What the hell, Dieter!”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying.” He assures her, picking at the toppings of his pizza slice that had fallen onto the plate. 

“I don’t get it. If you’ve been trying, then what’s stopping you from actually doing it?” 

“You are! Literally every chance I’ve taken, you stroll on in and fuckin’ cockblock me.”

“Wait— you’re blaming me for you not kissing her?” The shocked look on her face is priceless and equally hilarious. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely blaming you. You have the worst timing ever!” He laughed, because even as annoyed as he is, the whole situation is a little funny. 

*BUZZ* 

The vibration of his phone cuts into their conversation, a text from you pops up on to the screen, he swipes it open.

Poppy 💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it. 

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few. 

He wipes his greasy fingers with a napkin then tossing it onto his forgotten pizza. He stands to his full height, placing his phone in his pocket and makes his way to the door. 

“Where are you going? I was going to turn on that one show we’ve been wanting to watch.”

“I’m— going out. Go ahead and start it without me.” He shouts as the door clicks closed behind him. 

*

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few. 

Poppy 💐- House number 402. White house on the left side of the street. See you soon!

The distance from your house to Diem’s is a short one, 3 minutes if you’re a fast Walker, 5-6 if you take your time. 

Dieter was on his way— to your house. 

You toss your phone onto the counter, and run to the bathroom. Not knowing how soon he was leaving after stating he’d be here in a few, didn’t leave you much time to freshen up. 

You literally just saw him, so you kept it simple a few swipes of deodorant, clean away any mascara flakes and opting for a fresh coat of chapstick instead of lipstick— less is more approach. 

2 minutes down. 

Running through the house, you do a quick once over, grabbing any loose items, out of place items or kind of embarrassing items and tossing them into your hall closet— making sure to snag your copy of ‘My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex’ off of the coffee table. 

4 minutes down. 

Heading into the kitchen— Maybe he’ll want something to drink? You grab two tall glasses and fill them with ice, sitting on the counter waiting to fill with whatever Dieter wants. 

5 minutes down. 

Nervously, you stare at the front door, your nervous tick of picking at your fingernails keeps your hands busy. Should I turn some music on? Should I have put on a little more perfume? Maybe I should have brushed my teeth? 

*Knock Knock Knock*

You grab for the door handle, pausing for a minute to take a deep breath, then cracking the door open to see Dieter standing on your front porch, hands in his pockets, casually looking down at his feet then up to you at the sound of the creaky door hinges— his face lights up instantly. 

“Hey! Hope you found it okay?” You can’t help the dopey smile that grows on your face. 

“No issues at all. Didn’t realize how close you lived this whole time.” He says, gesturing in the direction of Diem’s house. 

“Yeah, almost neighbors.” Your smirk is laced in flirtation, your head leaning against the edge of the door in the most 90s rom-com way. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.” 

“Are you thirsty at all? I have sparkling and regular water, Diet Coke, and some beer— I haven’t made it to the store this week so I’m running low on things. I’ll be more prepared next time.” You ramble as you lead him into the kitchen, your nervous energy spiking just slightly. 

“I’m good for right now, thank you. So, there will be a next time?” He asks, observing the way you bite at your lower lip when he mentions the prospect of a “next time”.

“Yeah,” You shrug your shoulders, noting the way the corner of his mouth quirks up and the light flutter in your stomach that follows. “I think so, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, definitely want that.”

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sounds of home— the tick of the clock, the clinking of ice falling into the tray, a faint sound of music coming from another room. 

“Oh! I—I have your jacket, I keep meaning to bring it over and then it would slip my mind…” Very much a lie, you were wearing it early this morning while you sipped your morning coffee, reading the latest chapter of ‘My Pleasure’… and you also might have worn it afterwards, when you needed a little— relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I mean, a little Birdie has been asking about it— it’s not a big deal.”

“Let me go grab it so I’m not tempted to hold it ransom for longer. Umm, help yourself to whatever. Then I can show you the easel, see if it’s something that will work for you.”

“Okay.” 

Dieter takes in your home, it’s very much you. 

Your love for plants extends inside, dozens of potted green plants, in varying shapes and sizes grace just your living room alone. 

There’s a hint of a modern flare to your style, clean lines and lots of wood, a very neutral aesthetic— most of the color living as art work on your walls. 

The art hanging throughout your home, he can only assume is your own. He’s drawn to the texture and the style of each painting— faint lines formed into human figures , landscapes resembling the world outside of these walls, and vivid abstract strokes of color adorn canvas everywhere he looks. 

A soft glow catches his eye and like a moth to a flame, he’s lured to a dimly lit room— your art studio. 

Large windows flank the walls, he imagines the natural light in the daytime is ideal in a space like this. 

Tattered empty tubes of acrylic paint, evidence of being overly pinched to extricate every last bit of paint, strewn across a large table against the wall. Empty glass food jars repurposed as storage for your massive collection of paint brushes, while spatulas and other painting instruments lay haphazardly across the tabletop. 

The table seems to double as a desk, once  light colored, now coated in layers of colorful dried paint drips and spills. He runs his fingers over the surface, a balance of smooth and irregular textures, imagining the years you’ve spent standing over this table deliberately colors and mixing new ones. 

Dieter thinks you must have been painting recently, a clear palette holds fresh dollops of paint in the center with a few experimental strokes on the side. He dips a finger into one of the little mounds, rubbing the emulsion between three fingers. It's cold and wet as it glides over his skin. 

The wall of windows behind him he finds an easel, it too covered in coats of paint— a newer canvas sits in the support bar, a rough sketch of something just barely visible. 

Next to where the easel rests, there are canvases  stacked neatly against the wall along the floor. He analyzes each painting with regard, taking in each deliberate stroke and use of color— intently connecting with the emotions you’ve experienced in creating each piece. 

He admires your tenacity. Through your long days of teaching at the school, little humans requiring so much of your attention for hours. To volunteering your time to help others explore their creativity at the gallery, planning and teaching weekly. And yet, you still find time to cater to your needs by doing something that makes your life more fulfilling, not allowing any roadblocks to deter your endeavors. 

There’s an ache in his chest, a deep reminder of how different his life could have been had he not been bound by the shackles of Hollywood and the dark world that surrounds it. 

Dieter had only ever dreamed of having such a space like this of his own, where he could chase a creative high and drown out the loud noises that followed him daily. 

Stopping his thoughts before they begin to spiral, he thinks back to a motivational speaker he listened in on while in rehab. There were a lot of valuable words shared during the speech, but he remembers the line that really stood out to him— even through the darkest moments and afflictions that overpowered all his memories and people closest to him, it didn’t mean he is less worthy of a good life, a great life, moving forward. 

Dieter realizes that with everything he’d lived through and how much hurt he had caused, he knows those things led him to this point in time— they led him to you. 

“I ended up washing it, read the care instructions on the tag so I wouldn’t fuck it up. I found some melted Kit-Kats in the pockets and a few condom wrappers— this jacket has definitely seen some things…” You stop talking when you realize you’re met with an empty room, Dieter not where you had left him. “Dieter?” 

There’s a slight movement that pulls your attention in the direction of your studio. 

You find Dieter standing in the center of the room, the flicker from a burning candle emits a diffused light, washing his sharp features in a soft glow. There’s almost a pensiveness to his expression, hands tucked in his pockets lost in his thoughts, you watch him quietly take in the room around him. 

“I see you helped yourself to a house tour.” You announce your presence as you enter the room, placing his jacket on the overstuffed chair in the corner then turning around to walk in the direction of your large art table, the skirt of your dress shifting from side to side as you walk. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—“ He starts to apologize, realizing you both hadn’t set any boundaries with each other. 

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. I hid all my incriminating things already.” You joke, but there’s something about him that makes you feel like you don’t have to be guarded. 

“Are these for your showing?” He asks, pointing to the canvases he had just been studying. 

“Yeah,” You say as you turn to face him, lean back against the table. “They’re all pretty much done— I’ll probably fine tune some things before the big day.”

“Can I ask what they represent?? I can see two figures— a man and a woman in some sort of intimate setting. I see the woman is fully fleshed out in color with distinct features, similar to your own— but the man looks like a shadowed figure, starting out blank, then slowly gaining color and personality in each painting— like an evolution of some sort. But what’s the narrative behind them?” 

The way he’s analyzing your work, makes you feel even more captivated by him. 

“I was having this dream— a nightmare maybe? For weeks, it would come to me every night, always starting out in the same way. I would feel him all around me— his hands, lips, everything. I would try to speak to him, but he would never respond, and I could never see his face, didn’t know who he was. Then he would vanish, like I had lost him and I would wake up in a panic. But as the weeks went on, it was like I could start to see him a little clearer…”

Dieter hangs on to your every word, he’s drawn in to your openness to share your thoughts so freely with him. He steps closer to where you’re standing, wanting to know more about these dreams. 

“Go on.” He says softly, encouraging you to share more details. 

“Some nights his face was a blur, but I could see his features, more clearly each night. And as his face became more visible over time, the dreams didn’t feel like I was losing him— it felt like I was gaining more of him. The last week or so, I can see his face— I know who he is.”

At some point in explaining the story behind your paintings, your eyes fell to the floor— the way he was watching you so intently felt overwhelming the closer he got. 

“Who is he?” He asks, placing two fingers under your chin to slowly lift your gaze up to him. 

“You.”

It’s a fierce softness in the way his mouth molds to yours, the gentle press of his lips is breathtaking— punching the air right from your lungs. 

His touch is meticulous and thoughtful, resting his hands on your bare thighs, fingers lightly graze over your soft skin leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps. 

Your hands snake up his body, settling back to where they were not so long ago— cupping the back of his head, slow drawn out scratches to his scalp. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your mouth. 

“Y-yes— more than okay!” You breathe out— you’ve  literally dreamt of this moment. 

Experimentally you slowly swipe your tongue across his plump bottom lip, silently begging for a little more and he obliges, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. An equal exchange of feelings and yearning as the kiss alternates between a tangle of tongues and sweet pecks. 

Dieter pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, his breaths ragged puffs across your warm face.

“Why did you stop?” Your breath equally as ragged, chest heaving as you question his halted movements. 

“Be-because—“ His throat dry as he tries to regulate his breathing. “If we don’t stop, things will get— more serious.”

“I-I’m failing to see the problem in that.” You tease. 

“I don’t have any condoms— I didn’t think we’d get this far with our track record.” 

“I locked the door, after I let you in— didn’t want to chance any interruptions.” His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m clean and on the pill— but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I am, clean I mean— I’m clean, plus haven’t been with anyone in, well, awhile now. Might be a little rusty in all actuality.” He confesses, his thumbs still moving in sweeping motions over the tops of your thighs. “You sure you want this?”

“Very, very sure.” You whisper against his lips, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it slowly up under your dress to the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs since he started kissing you. 

“Fuck!” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your bare cunt, nearly choking on air— his fingers start to tentatively swipe through your wet folds, watching as your eyes start to roll back in pleasure. 

“I thought I had felt some kind of underwear earlier?” He asks, as his fingers coated in your slick start to draw lazy circles over your sensitive clit. 

“Ah!— I-I did. But I was so keyed up when I — left, I came home and had to— Oh! I had to— Fuck I can’t think straight when you’re doing that!” 

“Did you come home and touch yourself?”

“Yessss— Oh god!” You whine breathlessly as two of his fingers enter your heated core, remnants of your earlier orgasm fully welcoming him. 

“You’re so perfect.” He exclaimed,

his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close, his thumb lightly tracing across your lower lip. 

His two fingers continue to move in and out of you, working up so effortlessly. He presses a long slow kiss to your lips, followed by a few short light ones. 

You can feel yourself moving closer to the edge, there’s a tingle running down your spine, converging with the fire that’s beginning to break within you. Your velvety walls begin to flutter around Dieter’s fingers,  prompting him to kiss you a little deeper and it’s just the push you need. 

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come—“ Your body begins to shake, your hands slamming done on your table— paint splattering into the air. 

It’s an inferno of ecstasy blazing through your body, you wrap your arms around Dieter’s waist, clinging to him as you ride it out— letting the embers cool down. 

Without a single breath, you grab for the button on Dieter’s jeans as he tries to pull at the straps of your dress. It’s a jumbled mess of limbs, but finally working in tandem to rid each other of clothes. 

Dieter crowds you against the table, the edge digging into your lower back causing you to yelp. 

“Are you okay?” His eyes etched in concern, as he scans over your blissed out features. 

“Ye-yeah! The ta-table is digging.” You say, pointing to show him. 

He bends down to grab onto the back of your thighs. “Jump.” He says as he helps guide your naked body onto the table. 

His hands rest on the table as he leans in to kiss you again, unhurried as he licks into your mouth as he guides your body to lay down on the table. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, Poppy.” He says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and over your chest, stopping and pressing his lips over the spot that he hopes to hold on to for a while— your heart. 

The gesture has your eyes welling up, blinking rapidly to fight them off. You feel so completely overwhelmed by him, you have to actively stop yourself from telling him how in love you are with him. 

He lifts himself off of you just enough to reach between the two of you, giving his cock a few hasty strokes before notching its weeping head at your entrance. 

“Fuck!” He gasps as he slowly pushes his full length into your warm cunt— the slightest ghosting of your climax now pulsing around him. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in as close to you as possible, silently begging him to move, but he grips onto your leg to halt your movements. 

“Wait— I need a minute otherwise this is going to be over before it even happens.” He says, resting his head on your sternum to give himself a moment. 

“Dieter, it’s fine. Just take what you need— I’m— I’m good.” You feel more than satisfied with the two orgasms you’ve already had, you just want to feel him. 

He slowly states to move his hips, several purposeful thrusts, wanting to savor the way you feel, the warmth already starting to bloom in his belly.

Dieter lifts himself off of you, sensing this new angle is pleasant based on how you start to arch your back off the table, his steady thrusts working you both up in a desired frenzy. 

“Fuuuuck, you feel like a dream., Poppy.” His voice is hoarse, glancing down to watch the way your arousal coats him, his hands gripping your waist as he thrusting into with a little more earnestness. 

“Dieter— I think I’m going to come again— oh god!!” You announced into the lust filled room, the tell-tale signs barreling through your body. 

You try to grab onto something, hands looking for something to anchor yourself to, Dieter too far away and too lost in his own pursuit— each thrust is a little deeper producing your muscles to tighten on their own accord. 

An unexpected swipe of Dieter’s thumb over your clit is blinding, sweet erotic sounds pouring from your mouth, hands slamming back onto the table, you're met with wetness, your brain registering where you are and that your hands are covered in paint. 

The thick emulsion is cold when it hits your skin, your nipples pebble at the sensation of the paint gliding over them, your hands kneading the weight of your breasts— paint building up between your fingers with each calculated squeeze, each roll of your nipple sends you closer to your third orgasm. 

You look up to see Dieter’s slack jawed expression, which only makes you emphasize your movements, giving him a little show. You’re arched back putting your chest on display, your hands working over your exposed skin covering your upper body in a rainbow of colors. 

“Oh shit— shitshitshitshit— I’m gonna— fuck!” The sight of you sets Dieter off, folding himself over the top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to falter at the way your cunt begins to contract around him. 

A gravelly moan against your damp skin and one final thrust, his hips still as he’s spilling into you. 

The room is still again. The faint scent of your oud and  sandalwood candle is overpowered by the sex hazed aroma. Chests moving against each other simultaneously, lungs begging to properly breathe, skin slipping with each pull of air— this might become your favorite way to create art. 

A soft kiss to your shoulder  as Dieter lifts himself up into his forearms, resting his temple against your jaw to give his arms a chance to regain their strength before giving you a softer kiss to your lips. 

“That was—“ He’s still trying to regulate his breathing, words jumbled in his brain and not quite producing properly. 

“Amazing!” You finish his sentence for him. 

“Yeah— amazing.” He says, one more kiss because he doesn’t think he’s given you enough yet, then he’s slowly pulling out of you and helping you sit upright. 

“What a mess we made of ourselves.” You laugh as you examine both of your colorful torsos. 

“Worth it.” Dieter replied with a slight shrug and a quirky smile on his handsome face. 

“I’m going to go grab some stuff to clean us up. I’ll be right back.” 

Hopping off the table to head towards your bathroom, Dieter grabs you by the wrist, spinning you back towards him, your bodies flush against each once more as he gives you a toe curling kiss. 

“Alright, hurry back.” He says, giving your backside a few taps. 

*

You take a few minutes to freshen yourself up, wiping away as much of the paint as you can. 

Throwing on a clean pair of underwear and a loose shirt, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, you make your way back to your studio where you’re met with an unexpected sight when you get to the door, Dieter sitting in front of your easel where your last canvas sits. His naked body wrapped in his fuzzy coat, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moves around the canvas with a paint drenched brush. 

You take a moment to just watch him, leaning into the door frame, watching how he looks so relaxed and happy. 

“You snoop and you help yourself to my painting, you sir are a menace.” You jokingly say to him, it earns you a generous laugh. 

“Sorry, guess I’m two for two now. I saw you had it roughly sketched out and thought I’d paint you the way I see you.” He explained, leaning back into the small metal chair. 

“And how do you see me?” 

“Beautiful.” The word floats out and around you, its weight settling into that little space in your chest that has felt empty for so long. 

“That’s two times you’ve painted me now— I think those would be grounds for someone to fall in love.” You tease, but there’s truth wrapped up in your statement. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, making your way over to where he’s sitting. 

He places the brush in the glass of water, his hand reaching out for you to come closer, softly grabbing at your hips he’s pulling you down so you’re straddling his lap— fully aware he’s  still naked and covered in paint under his jacket. 

“Do you?” He has to know if you’re feeling the same way as him. “Do you, love me?” 

“Yes.” Your voice a little wobbly, your emotions bubbling up in your chest. 

But you do, you love him without a doubt and it’s the most terrifying and thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a long time. 

“I love you too, Poppy.” He whispers to you, his eyes glossy as he fights back tears. 

“Why are you crying?” Wiping the single tear that has started to fall down his cheek. 

“I’m scared— that I’m going to fuck this up. And you’re going to resent me. And I’ll be back to where I was a year ago— alone.” 

Your heart nearly breaks at his confession. 

“That’s not going to happen though.” Brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, caressing his face and hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice. 

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But a wise man once told me— we’ll figure it out as we go.” 

His arm wraps around your waist as his other hand cups the back of your neck, bringing your face to his, your nose bumping into his. 

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips. 

And before you even have a chance to reciprocate, he’s kissing you with so much love and feeling. 

“Will you come? To see my showing on opening night?” You ask between feather-like kisses. 

“I wouldn’t miss it, Poppy.”

*

It’s a few hours later when Dieter walks through the front door of Diem’s house, ready for a shower and sleep. 

“You’re home late.” Diem’s voice sounds from the same spot on the couch he’d left her in. 

“Uh, yeah. Lost track of time.”

“Were you at Poppy’s?” She asks with herround of motherly questioning. 

“Yeah, I was. She had that easel, so I went to get it.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The easel.”

“Oh, I— I must have forgot it. We were talking, lost track of time. I’ll grab it another time. I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed. Night.” Hoping to throw her off his scent, the last thing he wants is to hear her boast about what you and him were up to. 

“Night. Oh hey, Dieter.”

“Yeah.” Turning back towards her. 

“Make sure you wash that cute hand print on your neck.” Her devilish grin beaming at him. 

He gives her a middle finger for good measure, then heads to the bathroom. 

Next

[icycoldninja]

Long dead memories (Sephiroth X Reader angst)

Tw: Death and sickness; DNI if you are not comfortable with these themes.

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

Geostigma. The most debilitating, terrifying, fear striking disease to have ever existed, it wracked the bodies of most of the survivors of Sephiroth's heinous scheme to destroy the planet with Meteor. It appeared to be most prevalent in those who were closest to him, therefore it was only natural for you to be one of the most heavily afflicted.

The disease had claimed your entire body, primarily concentrated in your legs, making them so weak it hurt just to move them, thereby rendering you bedridden. To make matters worse, the majority of your body, except for your genitalia, face, hands and neck, were covered in large, ooze-secreting sores that burned when exposed to air, covered in cloth, or touched in general. Your entire existence was that of misery and pain--this applied to both your mental and physical state.

Honestly, you were well aware your end was approaching. After all, no known cure for Geostigma existed, and no scientists were around to try and make one. Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of people had already succumbed to this terrible ailment; you would just be another corpse in the pile.

Such depressing thoughts were only natural of someone on their deathbed. As most people do when their lives are slowly slipping away from them, you began to recall some of your most beloved memories. Memories of your childhood, your happiest moments, your accomplishments, but more importantly, your memories of Sephiroth.

That beautiful, green-eyed, silver-haired angel had been the sun of your life; the atmosphere to your earth, the salt to your food. He was the most precious thing in the world to you, and just like that, he'd been ripped away. His death, combined with your contraction of Geostigma, sent you into a depressed spiral. There was only one thought that brought you comfort: He was in the Lifestream now, and therefore all around you, so technically you weren't dying alone; he was there too, silently watching over you. You wanted this fact to be true so badly, you forced yourself to believe it--not that there was anyone around to tell you otherwise.

Closing your eyes, you turned over in your bed, wincing when you felt sharp pains shoot throughout your legs and shoulders; your sores squelching under the weight of your decaying body. It hurt, so, so, much, the pain was enough to bring tears to your eyes, making you wanted Sephiroth by your side more than you ever did in your lifetime. He always knew what to do, what to say, or what not to say, and how to hold you so the pain would go away. You could picture it in your mind's eye, the way his would circle his arms around your torso; how he would press kisses to your forehead and shush you, reminding you of how much he loved you in just a few words. You could hear it even now, the timbre of his low, rumbly voice echoing in your ears.

"Do not be afraid. Sleep, for I am with you, and always will be."

Though he rarely used pet names in times like these, the gentle tone of his voice and soft caressing of his lips against your skin reminded you of how much he loved you in ways words never could.

You shivered, wrapping your blankets tightly around yourself, mentally cursing the coldness of your room. At the very least, you wanted to die in a nice, toasty room, perhaps by a blazing fire. As you tried to remember what comfort felt like, memories of Sephiroth cuddling you flitted into your mind. Snuggling with him always felt the best; his large frame constantly emitted warmth, much like a human heater; resting your head near his broad, warm chest was pure bliss. As you reminisced, you could have sworn you felt his presence surround you even now as you lay on a cold mattress in a freezing, heat-less room.

Small teardrops spilled forth from your eyes, the nostalgia of events long passed filling you with a profound sense of sadness you couldn't fully understand. You gripped your sheets tightly, screwing your eyes shut in an attempt to hold on to this soothing feeling that you hadn't felt in years.

You wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped safely in the arms of your dearest love. Your mind began to fog over; the burning pain of your Geostigma sores beginning to vanish as your mind slowly sank deeper and deeper into sleep. The further into the darkness you went, the calmer and more at peace you felt.

A small smile crept onto your face as you finally let go of your last threads of consciousness, glad to be able to depart in the tender embrace of some long dead memories.

[blues824]

Brothers react to an MC who was adopted and raised by demons(one of the things MC’s foster parents drilled into their head is you don’t take shit from other demons see the reference?)

I definitely do see the reference! I decided to do this where gender-neutral human reader is adopted, but has the same personality as Charlie.

Lucifer

You were a big ball of sunshine that he honestly didn’t mind having around the house. It’s a nice contrast to the usual negativity that was the House of Lamentation. However, for being raised by demons, you were very naive and ignorant. Not to worry, as it only gives him an excuse to be by your side as often as you can.

However, you don’t let anyone walk all over you. You have thrown hands with Mammon for insulting you, and Lucifer has seen you. You might be dressed well, and you might be human, but you can definitely pack a punch. 

Another thing he found out was that you were a very theatrical person, which was a strange thing to learn about you. He often finds you doing your chores while either humming or dancing, and it brings him a strange sense of comfort. He often sneaks up behind you to wrap his arms around your torso and place a kiss on your cheek to greet you.

Whenever he’s been working all day, you often show great concern and bring him some tea and snacks so he would have at least eaten something. Then, you will take some of the paperwork and start filling it out. Because of your hard work, he will often take you out to Ristorante Six on a date.

Mammon

Would have never guessed until he had actually met your parents. After all, it was wise of them to visit you to see how you were holding up in the HoL. But you were so freaking positive, which was very uncommon for people who were surrounded by demons. By the way, he thinks your parents are intimidating as hell.

He remembers one time where you were super stressed and he called you ‘human’ in an unintentionally condescending way, and you threw hands. You were super freaking strong for a human, and he is struggling worse than when he struggles with Lucifer.

When he found out you were very theatrical, he was trying so hard not to burst out laughing. He saw you dancing in your room, and he was basically waiting for you to notice him in the doorframe. He would never tell you this, but he thought you were absolutely adorable with how ignorant you were to his presence.

So, he often takes up jobs to get money, as one typically does. He has been in multiple modeling gigs, and oftentimes they are back-to-back. You are worried that he will over-exert himself, so you often accompany him to the modeling agencies so that you can support him in what he’s doing. It makes all the difference for him.

Leviathan

You remind him of one of the protagonists from I Want to Start a Hotel So That Demons Have a Chance to Change And Be Redeemed. You were positive, naive, and joyful. He thought you were a total normie until you told him that you were adopted and raised by demons even though you were human.

There was one time where Mammon had called you ‘human’ and you weren’t gonna let it slide. You shoved all of your belongings into Levi’s arms as you threw some hands that the second eldest couldn’t catch. The third eldest would have recorded it had he not been scared you would punch him too if he put down your items.

He can get very theatrical too, and if he hears you singing to a show intro that he knows and loves, he will sing it with you. We all know that this man loves karaoke, and when he’s with you he has all the confidence in the world. 

If he ever gets in an antisocial mood and won’t come out, you often replenish his snacks and make sure that he gets an adequate amount of sleep because you don’t like seeing him unwell. These simple acts of kindness and love mean so much to him, you don’t even know. So, in the meantime, just admire the blush that’s all over his face.

Satan

Being naive in the Devildom was a very bad thing that he found absolutely adorable, so don’t mind him as he sticks close whenever you go out. One time, you told him about how you were adopted by demons and knew your way around, and he was surprised and kept that in mind.

However, you were not a pushover. Mammon (again) called you ‘human’, implying that you were weak, and so you decided to show him how weak you really are. Satan tried to pull you off, but you kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine and went back to biting the second eldest’s arm.

I don’t think he’s very theatrical, but he doesn’t mind humming a little tune every now and then. For instance, if he’s dusting his tall shelves with you, he will start humming a song that you know so you can sing along to it. Oftentimes, you don’t finish cleaning since you both are dancing with one another.

Sometimes, Satan doesn’t know when to catch a break and it can often lead to him getting angry. You try your best to calm him down (much like Charlie does with Vaggie in the show), but it doesn’t always work. So, you bring him tea and leave him alone unless he tells you to stay.

Asmodeus

There was no way you were human because you were immune to his charm, or so he thought. Come to find out that you were human but adopted by demon parents, and everything started to make sense. If your parents were wise, they probably placed some sort of spell so you wouldn’t be deceived. No matter, since he would never do that!

But, even though it seemed like it at first, you were not easily insulted without consequences. Mammon called you ‘human’ in a condescending way, and Asmo watched as you lunged for his older brother’s throat. He had no idea that you were so violent, but he had to admit that he was definitely turned on.

Asmodeus can be very theatrical, so you both go hand-in-hand whenever you enter the world of nonsense that you two have created. You would think everyday is a Disney movie with him being the princess and you being the prince. 

Unfortunately, there are lows in the relationship. Sometimes, Asmo doesn’t feel beautiful on the inside, and you’re there to hold up the mirror and tell him all the things you appreciate about him while holding up a mirror. When he starts feeling better, he will shower your face in kisses of appreciation and gratitude.

Beelzebub

He finds it cool that you already knew about the Devildom and even hell because of your adoptive parents. But, because your head was often not grasping the reality of any given situation and only seeing the possibilities of what could happen, he sticks close so he can be sure that you don’t get hurt.

The first time he saw you fight was when Mammon had called you ‘human’. Well, Beel could have been convinced that you did heavy lifting or something with how you picked his second oldest brother up and threw him like he was a rubber ball in dodgeball and you were one of the athletic kids.

Beel is not theatrical at all, but he will stare at you with a lovestruck gaze if you are humming while making him food. Better yet, if you’re cooking together, he will quietly put the utensils he’s holding down to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you.

But, there are times where he feels guilty for eating so much. So, when you see him trying to restrict himself, you always make extra food so he can have some more. You understand that it’s not his fault and that he’s a genuinely good person, and that’s what he appreciates.

Belphegor

Honestly, he wonders why the hell demon parents would adopt a human child. But then he really gets to know you (and attempts to kill you, more on that later), and he sees that not all humans are bad. You were even a bit naive, and you were really breaking the stereotype that he had formed.

Now, speaking of attempting to kill you, it was only an attempt because you were ready to fight for your life. You may be human, but you knew how to roll up your sleeves and throw hands so hard that cartoonish dust clouds rise up with arms and legs sticking out of the big dust ball.

He’s also not theatrical, and at first found the whole dancing and singing thing totally annoying. But, if you were to hum to him as he was trying to go to sleep, he would be willing to see past the overly happy side of you. 

There are multiple times where he feels major guilt for trying to kill you. No matter how many times you say you forgive him, he will never forgive himself. All you can do is offer him comfort as much as possible to show him that you’re not scared of him.

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

okay I’m hoping this makes sense, the papa witht a s/o that is scared of sleeping, like sleeping makes them super anxious and it’s hard for them to sleep comfortably

It makes sense anon, dw!! I've been in that position before, so I will somewhat be writing from my own experience for these headcanons <3

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨

Primo gets this completely, and he's incredibly patient and kind

He makes you cups of herbal team to help calm your nerves

Will stay awake with you until you doze off

Stays by your side the whole time so that he's there for you if you wake up in a panic

He'll reassure you and try to help you rationalise anything that's playing on your mind and making you feel anxious

Primo also has a supply of the most comfortable pillows and blankets he keeps in a cupboard for whenever you wish to stay over in his room

If he's particularly worried about you and your lack of sleep, he'll suggest going to the doctor's or a therapist with you to help with your anxiety around sleep

Always has fresh lavender in his room as he knows it can be a very relaxing, calming scent that helps people sleep easier

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨

Also a tea man

As someone who could sleep through a hurricane, Secondo perhaps doesn't understand as much as Primo does

Don't get me wrong, he does understand. Just not to the extent that Primo does because of how heavy he sleeps and having never had difficulty sleeping at night

He does, of course, support you through it and has learned various grounding techniques for when your anxiety starts to spike at bedtime

He keeps a dossette box of sleeping pills in his en suite bathroom for nights where other methods of getting you to sleep don't work, but he only uses these as a last resort when literally nothing else works

Secondo will also stay awake with you until you drift off. He makes sure that he holds you the whole time, even if it results in him sleeping in waht others would consider uncomfortable positions such as sitting up against a headboard

While Primo is a lavender guy, Secondo is a scented candle guy

He gets a shit ton of scented candles of your favourite scents and will light them while you both do your bedtime routine so that you have a calming scent to focus on

𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨

Terzo is the first person to tell you that you need to talk about your anxiety with a professional

He'll get you in touch with one of the therapists from the Ministry, he'll even pay for you to go to the best therapist in town if you'd prefer not to talk to someone who works in the abbey

He's going to be there with you all the way

He'll help you rationalise your anxious thoughts and worries surrounding going to sleep and even encourages you to keep a sleep diary

He might also encourage you to try and sleep by downloading Pokemon Sleep onto your phones so that it's like you're getting rewarded for sleeping

He's all cuddles and cooing and soothing words if you get upset at the prospect of sleeping

He's going to stay awake as long as possible even after you fall asleep in case you wake up in the night and need him to comfort you

He'll position you so that you're laying on top of him when you sleep, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he softly sings lullabies and songs to remind you that he's there, he's not going anywhere, and he loves you deeply

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚

You and Copia are kindred spirits in these regards

He's no stranger to fitful nights of tossing and turning, being too scared to fall asleep in case the nightmares return and haunt him once again

Talking you through your own anxiety around sleep is what makes him realise that he needs help too and that he can't be giving you all of this advice if he doesn't take it himself

Will attend therapy with you

Talks about his own experiences and anxiety and fears so that you don't feel like you're going through this on your own

On those nights where neither of you can sleep, he invites Aether for a sleepover so that he can use his quintessence powers to give you both a dreamless sleep for the night

Copia probably has a giant tub full of various herbal teas Primo has given him to help with sleep that he's never used until you came along

You both often have nighttime video game marathons on the nights where you can't sleep and don't want to bother Ather. You both end up waking the next morning with the game over screen flashing at you, game controllers abandoned on the blankets, and your bodies intertwined