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daydreaming-nerd · 18 days

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Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 8

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Hey guys I have a feeling no one really liked part 7 so I cut out a couple scenes for this. This chapter might feel like we’re jumping around a lot but I wanted to get you guys to the good stuff that you want in the next couple parts. I do want to take this time to tell you that things are going to get more angsty before they get more fluffy. At least the next two will have ANGST… but please hang in here with me and let me cook I promise you’ll love it in the end. I hope you all stick around. Sending you all love 🥺🖤

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, flashback to under the mountain, ANGST

Word Count: 5,609

The smell of sulfur and sweat filled my senses. During the day it was always burning hot and at night the temperature dropped significantly. The hour that it took for my body to adjust to the change in climate everyday was always grueling. When my brother and I first arrived he was able to keep me hidden, offering me his coat or an arm to slink under, but the second Amarantha set eyes on him he was ripped away from me. I hadn’t been allowed to speak to him since.

For the most part I had kept my head down, desperately trying to blend into the crowd of fae. It was all I could do to survive, yet the whispers still followed me.

“The Jewel”

“Rhysand’s sister”

I knew they were all plotting against me, weighing whether or not my brother would have leave to reprimand anyone who dared hurt me. It was only a matter of time until someone decided to test the waters.

I stood among the crowd of fae looking up at the dias before us. The King Of Hybern had come to see how his little experiment had been going and Amarantha had made a point of making a show out of it. She had the most noble subjects lined up first, Kallias, Helion and myself included among the ranks. The rest fell into place behind us.

I looked up to the dias where the High Queen sat, my brother standing dutifully by her side. To my knowledge he had not yet given in to her wishes, but by the bags under his eyes and the paleness of his skin I wondered how much more of her torture he could take.

“As you can see my king, they have bent the knee without much fuss,” Amarantha gestured to those of us kneeling before her. The rocks under my knees cutting my skin. “We have all the High Lord’s but one present with us.”

“Very good,” the king smiled, making his way down the line to survey every High Lord that Amarantha had lured into her domain.

I kept my head down, staring only at the ground before me. The sound of his heavy boots crunching against the gravel was my only indication that he was getting closer to where I was kneeling. The toe of his leather boots came into view before me and then stopped. My heart started to race and my palms became clammy behind my back. A cold hand lifted my chin and my eyes were met with a pair of black soulless ones.

“What about this one?” the king asked, never once taking his eyes off me. By the look on his face I could tell that he ate up every ounce of fear I projected, practically thrived off it.

“That is y/n, sister of Rhysand, High Lord of Night.” Amarantha purred, clearly proud of herself for getting me here.

“I’d like to have her,” he said, pulling me up roughly by my arm. “It’s time I take a wife so that I might have an heir to this mighty kingdom I’ve built.”

Fear courses through my veins as I feel tears start to prick my eyes. The king spoke so casually, like he was picking out a new tapestry. If I had eaten any food the last two days I would’ve hurled onto the stone floor below me. This would be my fate, and there was no one coming to save me.

“She is yours then,” Amarantha said, sipping her wine. “She’s of no use to me. Make an example of her for all I care. Some of her companions have been especially restless these past few evenings.” she uttered, referring to how Helion punched a lesser fae for trying to touch me last night.

“With pleasure,”the king growled, tossing me onto the ground.

The stone and rock sliced open my palms, the pain quick and biting. I had barely any time to think before I felt the king kneeling behind me, his hands beginning to lift my dress.

“NO NO NO!” my screams echoed off the walls falling upon deaf ears.

I tried to crawl away but I was hauled back by a pair of hands, one wrapping around my neck forcing me up.

“WAIT!”

My brother's voice boomed through the room, ricocheting off the walls like glorious night earning gasps from the lesser fae behind us. Thankfully the disruption was enough to stop Hybern in his tracks.

“If you don’t give my sister to him and you promise me her safety I will go to bed with you willingly,” Rhys pleaded and my heart dropped.

My eyes flitted up to find my brother, the High Lord of the Night Court, and the most honorable man I ever knew, kneeling. His hands grasped one of Amarantha’s as she looked down at him with a light in her eyes.

‘No, no, no, no’ was all I could think.

“Without any fuss?”she asked him.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Rhys no!” I called but Hybern’s grip on my throat tightened.

“For as long as I wish?” she clarified.

“Yes.”

“Consider it done,” she purred.

My eyes flew open, my breath racing so fast I couldn’t keep up with it. A sheen of sweat coated my skin and it took me a moment to recognize where I was.

Home.

Cassian’s breaths rose and fell behind me, his arms around me an impenetrable wall to anyone who might try to take me from him. But it was all too much, and I needed to feel the fresh air. The fresh air I didn’t get to feel for 50 years.

So I wiggled out of his grasp with great difficulty and padded down the hallway to the balcony where he and I normally would take off.

The second the freezing night air hit my bare skin I felt like I could finally breathe again. My nightgown did nothing to keep me warm but I was more than happy to feel the breeze. I looked down upon the sparking lights of Velaris and took it all in. There was a time I thought I would never see my home again, yet here I was. But at what cost?

Images of Rhysand’s health deteriorating under the mountain flashed through my mind. What he had done with Amarantha, so completely unspeakable. The only time I ever saw him perk up was when the Cursebreaker showed up. The one who had saved us all, the one I would later find to be my brother’s mate. I had never met the woman, but I longed to thank her for what she did.

These past few weeks I had been able to escape the nightmares of my time under the mountain. I supposed Cassian chased those monsters away. But as I stood here now I realized that it didn’t matter how far I ran, I could never be free of that stench of sulfur, and I could never outrun my guilt.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Cassian murmured from the doorway. I didn’t turn back to meet his stare, unwilling to show him the tears in my eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” I laugh subtly wiping away a tear.

His arms wrap around me and I can’t help but lean into his warm chest, as his wings cocoon around me to block out the wind. He’s so warm, how is he always so warm?

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, words rumbling through his chest.

“I just had a nightmare that’s all,” I sigh, resting my hands to where his arms are clasped over my chest. “I thought that I was done having dreams about what happened under the mountain but I guess not. The things I saw? What Rhys did for me?” I pause, taking a deep breath. “Sometimes I think I’ll never really escape that place.”

Cassian turns me slowly in his arms and though I know he wants me to look at him, I can’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his bare chest. He holds me even tighter as his wings wrap around me, keeping in the warmth.

“Never again y/n,” he coos, running a hand over my hair. “For as long as I live you will never have to go back there again.”

I can’t help as a tear trickles down my eye at his words. My face burying further into his warm chest, the one place I truly never want to leave. Not when I longed for it for so long. I breathed Cassian in deeply, trying to remind myself I was here, I was home. Rhys was at the townhouse, we were both safe.

“What can I do? How can I help?” Cassian asked me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Just hold me,” I say with a shaky breath letting my hands wander up and down the bare skin of his back.

I felt his chest rumble through my cheek as he let out a small laugh, “I remember when I would’ve done anything to hear you say those words.” he says wings coming in tighter around me.

“You can hold me whenever you want general,” I smile, continuing to rub circles on his lower back.

“Almost whenever I want,” he corrects me quietly.

Reality came back to me in an instant. I knew what he meant. The complexities of marriages, and armies and alliances keeping us from being transparent.

But we would get there soon… Together we would get there.

The next few days my dream follows me.

Every night I dream of my brother on his knees before Amarantha, every night I wake in a cold sweat, every night Cassian soothes me until I fall asleep again.

As I stare at myself in the mirror the bags under my eyes are a reminder that last night the nightmare had found me again. The ladies maids behind me pull my corset tighter, taking away my ability to breathe.

The only saving grace about today is that Eris isn’t here. Apparently he was out on a hunt with his brothers on a hunt and had been gone for three days. I knew it was really a bachelor party, no doubt spent in a seedy brothel, but I didn’t care to correct the autumn court women. How could I when they had the garment so tight I could hardly speak.

Today had been all about fitting me for my wedding dress, one I had yet to see. It was a long process of measuring my arms, legs, and bust. Picking out shades of white that would look best with my complexion, (the debate between ivory and white lasted an hour and was utterly ridiculous). With Eris gone Cassain had spent the day lounging on a sofa, letting his guard down, that is until the corsets came out.

“Prince Eris says he wants her a size smaller for the wedding, keep pulling!” Ordered the older of the two, her gray hair falling from its updo. Gods they had already taken me in a full size.

My hands braced on either side of the mirror as the women yanked with all their strength one last time. It took everything in me not to scream out in pain once more as the fabric constricted around me again. I swore on my life I heard a rib crack.

“That should do it, measure her,” the older one snapped again. I wasn’t sure who this woman was but I didn’t dare argue with her.

A tape measure was slipped around my waist for the millionth time as they checked to see if the dress would fit. I watched in the mirror as the young one held up the measurement, my eyes flitting to Cassian’s worried gaze in the back of the room.

“Perfect, the dress will fit nicely after the alterations on the arms are done,” the older woman reported, putting her tools away. “You are free to go.”

“Can you help me get this off?” I ask trying to reach around trying to find the ribbons but the damned thing is tied so tight I can’t even reach.

“Absolutely not!” the woman cried like I had asked her to murder her first child. “You will need to leave that on till at least the end of the day to train your waist.”

I don’t argue, too scared to hear the woman squawk at me again like she just did. Thankfully the younger one, who I assume is her apprentice, helps me put on my old dress. The rusty colored fabric is looser in the middle now but all I can think about is going home. The sooner I’m home the sooner I can take this damned thing off.

“Ready?” Cassian asks, standing from his spot on the couch.

“More than you know,” I laugh waddling over to him.

He leads me out of the palace and neither of us say a word or even dare to brush hands as we walk down the too quiet hallways. Even when this place is empty it feels like it has eyes everywhere. I swear if I looked up right now there would be a dozen people staring down at me. Normally the second that I step outside I feel like I can breathe, but today that’s not the case. I’m thankful that Cassian feels my urgency to get home shooting us both into the sky as soon as possible.

I knew it was dumb but I never got tired of this part of our day. There was a certain sense of joy in getting to spend these peaceful moments with Cassian. Just him and I, the world soaring by around us with the knowledge that I would be home soon and life could resume as normal.

The second we touch down on the House of Wind balcony I’m rushing to Cassian’s room, well I supposed it was our room now, considering I hadn’t slept in my own in over a week. I hear Cass close the door behind me as I fumble for the ties on my dress desperately wanting to take a full, deep breath.

“Here let me help you,” he pleaded, moving my hands out of his way.

“Thanks,” I breathed as I felt my dress fall to the ground, the impending freedom starting to make my heart race. Cassian’s hands fumbled with the knot at the base of the corset.

“They tied it so tight I can’t break the knot apart,” he said, starting to panic a bit as my breathing quickened.

“Cut it off me Cassian, I can’t breathe,” I rasp trying to pull the top of the corset off my skin a bit to allow my chest to rise and fall normally but it’s useless.

“Shit baby hold on,” he assures me. I hear him draw a dagger from its sheath on his thigh, carefully dragging the tip down the back.

With every single snap of the ribbons I feel my lungs expanding again and the second the torturous garment is on the floor I nearly double over, taking my first full breath.

“Oh my gods,” Cassian curses, his fingertips running down my spine gently, like he might hurt me.

“What? What is it?” I ask looking into the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. In it I can see Cassian looking over my back with furrowed brows.

“They bruised you,” he said, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

I turn around so I can see myself in the mirror from afar and sure enough a bruise lines my vertebrae where the corset was. No wonder I felt like I heard bones cracking.

“It’s fine, you’ve experienced worse,” I sigh, picking up a discarded robe on the floor and slipping it over my shoulders.

“I’d rather fight a battle than wear a corset,” Cassian snickered and honestly I didn’t blame him.

“At least I’ll never have to wear it again,” I say, tossing the corset aside, taking my anger out on it.

“Does that mean you’ve figured out how you’re gonna handle this?” he asks me tentatively, like he was terrified to either ask or hear my answer.

I turn to meet his eyes, and for a moment I think about taking the easy way out, telling him something that might give him hope. But we had spent so long lying about our feelings for one another, wasting so much time. I wouldn’t lie about this.

“I thought I did, but the last two times I brought up calling off the wedding he-”

“If he touches you again I don’t think I-” he trails off, looking to the side as if he’s trying to compose himself. “Last time it felt like my blood was on fire.”

His admittance nearly brought me to my knees. The anger in his eyes veiled with sadness had me reaching up to cup his face, just needing to feel him.

“I know Cass and I’m so sorry. I know this is hard for you and gods I’m a fucking monster-”

“Fuck y/n,” he shakes his head taking my hands in his. “Don’t you dare apologize. You are trying to save your people and help your court. I’m being a selfish prick.” he says, casting his head down in embarrassment.

My blood boils at the thought that he felt selfish in any sort of way. Even more so that I was the reason.

“No, don't say that,” I order him, squeezing his hands to bring his gaze to mine. “You are the most selfless male I’ve ever known. I love you Cass, and I promise I’m going to figure this out. Because I honestly don’t think I can live without you now. You are everything to me, and so much more. I know I can do this,” I assure him, but really I feel like I’m assuring myself more.

His gaze softens, and a twinge of light flickers in his eyes, one that looks like hope, “I know you can too, My smart, ambitious, caring and beautiful woman,” he praises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I am beyond honored to call you my princess.”

“And I’m thankful to call you my general,” I smile, craning my head to read his face. “But mostly I’m just thankful to call you mine.”

“I’ll be yours until my heart stops beating, and maybe even after that if there’s a place we go when our time in this world is through,” he coos, brushing a hair from my face.

“Wherever that place is,” I sigh, pressing my head to his chest and pulling him closer to me. “I’ll follow you there too.”

The days that followed were generally boring. Cassian would fly up to the Illyrian Mountains with Azriel to further prepare the troops for the impending war. Apparently Windhaven had become the main stronghold for all the camps, and of course having hundreds of Illyrians in the same camp was more than rowdy. Cass and Az were constantly breaking up fights and coming home worse for wear. One night Cassian had come home caked in mud and blood, which he assured me wasn’t his own.

That night I demanded that he let me get him cleaned up and after hearing a million phrases along the lines of…

“You’re a princess, you shouldn’t be having to clean me up.”

And

“I don’t want to get you dirty.”

I finally convinced the stubborn general to let me take care of him. I took my time rubbing out the knots in his shoulders, his muscles so hard I could barely feel my hands afterwards. The sounds that fell from his lips were enough motivation to keep going though. He even let me wash his wings, something I knew Illyrians didn’t normally tolerate.

I remembered a day when I was just 10 years old and Rhys was 12. I had instinctively reached out to touch Rhys’ wing and he just about had my head. After that I was terrified to go anywhere near them. I could tell he felt bad about the encounter. One day when I was crying over something our father had yelled at me about he hugged me, and used his wings to cocoon me in. It was enough to bring a smile to my face and ever since then it had become a silly thing he had done whenever I was upset. Gods we hadn’t had a moment like that in years.

Nevertheless, my heart soared when Cassian asked me to wash his wings. I took my time to be extra careful. Grazing over sensitive areas when necessary. But appreciating every breathtaking inch of them. I didn’t miss the way one of his large wings curled over my frame that night while we lay in bed, almost as if it was its own sentient being thanking me.

“So last family dinner huh?” Azriel said as Cassian and I walked into the living room of the townhouse.

The words rolling off the Shadowsinger's tongue was enough to make my stomach hurt again. Rhysand had asked for us all to come together one last time for dinner as a family before I married Eris and moved to the Autumn Court.

Cassian hadn’t asked for updates surrounding the nuptials that would be taking place in two days time, which I was thankful for, considering I had none to give. I knew that tonight he would ask for answers, I could tell by the quiet demeanor he had all day. But I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

“Yeah I guess so,” I replied to Az as the three of us made our way to the long dining room table.

I took my usual place at the end of the table next to Azriel, Cassian sat across from me, Mor next to him and then Amren. Rhys, who always sat at the head of the table, arrived late adjusting the lapels of his jacket.

“Forgive me for being late,” he apologized, taking his seat. “I was just reading the latest reports and well-” he trailed off, not wanting to bring it up.

“What is it?” Amren demanded, leaving no room for him to avoid the question.

“Hybern’s forces are growing and there are rumors that the spring court will stand with him,” Rhys admits and my stomach plummets.

My eyes lift to Cassian’s and find him already looking at me. Worry passes between us. If the spring court has chosen to side with Hybern then we are truly outnumbered, especially if Tarquin refuses to fight. His foot brushes against mine under the table, the only comfort he’s able to offer me at the moment.

“Why would Tamlin do that?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“His father was one of Hybern’s biggest allies in the first war. My guess is that he’s trying to follow in his fathers footsteps,” Rhys turns to me.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Mor scoffed, sipping her wine.

The topic of conversation was dropped and dinner continued as usual. The boys swapped fond memories and fought over who was the true winner of last year's snowball fight. All the while I couldn’t shake what my brother had said, if the rumors are true and Tamlin joins Hybern what does that mean for the rest of us? For Cassian, who would no doubt be on the front lines.

I lift my eyes to see him and just like always I nearly have my breath taken away. He had one arm thrown over the back of his chair, the other holding a glass of wine while he laughed at something my brother had said. Cassian was so handsome when he was like this, at ease, laughing with his family. I had yet to see him in battle, but I knew that seeing him that way would be just as knee wobbling. If he was gone then what?

I looked at my family around me, the home my brother had built and fought so hard to protect. The warmth that lived here, it was something that couldn’t be put into words. It could all be gone in seconds, and then everything my brother sacrificed under the mountain? It would’ve been for nothing.

“Well I have to get back and finish some paperwork,” Rhys said, tossing his napkin on the table.

“I have some mission reports to wrap up,” Azriel said, also throwing in the metaphorical towel.

We all stood, our chairs sliding across the wooden floor with a squeak, my eyes found Cassian and I could sense that he wanted to speak to me.

“And you dear sister need to get some beauty sleep for the big day,” Rhysand said, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

I embraced him warmly, taking in every part of him. I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I saw him, or the last time I saw any of them. But with the wedding and war, everything seemed so much more precious now.

We all moseyed over to the front door where I said goodbye to Mor and Amren, as they wouldn’t be attending the wedding. I gave the townhouse one last look, taking in the warm fae lights, the plush carpets and the love that the place offered. I hoped it would be a bright light for me to remember when I would no longer be able to visit. The door closed and I swear a part of me was locked behind it.

“I’ll see you two at home,” Azriel said, he didn’t even give us a chance to say goodbye before shooting off into the sky.

“Walk with me?” I asked Cassian, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Look at that you’re taking me for walks now, what a responsible dog owner,” Cassian smirks referring to the dog comment made nearly a month ago.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” I laugh bumping into his arm as he holds open the front gate for me.

“Never baby, never,” he laughs

Velrais was beautiful no matter what time of day or what season it was. But summer nights in Velaris had to be my favorite. While growing up I hardly ever got to leave the house, if I did it was when Rhys would sneak me out on night time flights. Often going into the city for sweets or ice cream.

Tonight was perfect. The temperature was just warm enough to merit the lilac satin I was wearing, while the breeze coming off the Sidra kept us both cool. It seemed that the whole town thought it was a perfect night. Many people opted to take their dinner and drinks on outdoor patios, a small band had brought their instruments out for children and couples to dance to, and there was a general scene of merriment everywhere. This was home.

As we got closer to the river and further from the music the breeze picked up and Cassian’s wing shot out to create a shield for me. My mouth was halfway open poised to say something when a small cry came out from behind me. Cassian whipped around to assess the danger even faster than I could, but as we both turned around all we found was a little girl, about 5 years old, running toward me, doll in hand.

“Princess! Princess!” she squealed in excitement as she came to a halt at my feet, tugging on my dress.

“Celia!” shouted a woman running towards us. By the matching black hair and blue eyes I could tell it was her mother. “Get back here this instant!”

“Don’t worry she’s alright,” I smiled towards the mother trying to offer her some reassurance.

The woman quickly halted in her tracks upon seeing my face and bent at the waist, “Your highness please forgive me,” she said quickly.

“Please, please, no bowing,” I laughed, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll have to forgive this one, she’s much faster than me,” the woman laughed nervously.

I looked down to see the little girl looking up at me with stars in her blue eyes, I bent over to pick her up using all my strength to do so.

“Sounds like she’s going to be a little warrior then,” I laugh. “You should meet my friend Cassian, he’s the general.” I say to Celia hiking her up on my hip to see Cass.

He tucked his wings in tight and wiggled his fingers at the little girl, trying to seem less intimidating. She hesitantly waved back unsure of him and then turned her gaze to me.

“You’re pretty,” she smiled, one of her tiny hands grazing my nose for emphasis.

“Why thank you. I think you’re very pretty as well Celia,” I smile at her cherub cheeks. “Tell me about your dolly,” I say looking at the porcelain doll in her arms.

“Her name's Poppy, she’s a princess too,” Celia stated proudly holding the doll up so I could see her more clearly.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you princess Poppy,” I nodded, shaking the doll's dainty hand.

“Come on Celia it’s time for bed darling,” her mother laughed.

I placed the girl down on the ground and watched her run to grab onto her mothers legs.

“Thank you princess,” she nodded to me. “General,” she nodded to Cassian.

“Of course,” I said, waving goodbye.

As I watched the two walk away hand in hand I couldn’t help but notice the warmth there and the love. At that moment I found myself missing my own mother. I looked out over the river, the calm black water drifting by as the stars sparkled over Ramiel. The distant sounds of children laughing, adults singing, music playing.

I couldn’t leave this place to chance. This beautiful home that Rhys had built, the shops and restaurants. The people who lived here peacefully and without worry.

I wouldn’t let people like Celia and her mother suffer from my selfishness.

I turned to find Cassian already staring at me expectantly, as is if he was on edge waiting for me to say something. There was a wariness to his stare that told me he knew what came next.

“Cass we need to talk,” I sigh.

I see his metaphorical hackles raise as he speaks, “No y/n, absolutely not. I won’t lose you.” he declared the heat of the argument already rising.

“There isn’t a way out Cassian. I won’t put my people at risk like that. Think of the little girls like Celia. I can’t just sit by and watch her go to the slaughter because I didn’t want to marry someone.” I argue, gesturing to the city behind him. “And what about you? Huh? You heard what Rhys said. If Tamlin is involved and we still don’t have Tarquin’s support, then where does that leave you? On the frontlines. If something were to happen to you and I had to live with the thought that I could’ve done something to stop it but didn’t, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Cassian’s fists clenched at his sides, “I would rather live with you for however long I have left then be without you y/n.” he pleaded.

His words hit like a blow as I felt tears pricking my eyes. This was the end. This beautiful, wonderful thing I had found that made me feel so alive, so loved. It was ending, and it was dying like a star. Burning bright and exploding, taking everything in its path.

“And what about them?” I gestured to the city in the distance as a cheer sounded from one of the taverns. “If I don’t marry Eris that means I’m okay with their blood on my hands Cassian. What does that make me? A monster.”

His jaw ticked, “So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you marry him? Watch him put his hands all over you? Watch you have his fucking children!” he roared, eyes only softening when I flinched away from him.

“I’m sorry Cass, but I don’t know what to do anymore. All I know is that I want to save my people, and this is the only way I know how. The safest.” I say calmly.

Cassian steps back and looks over the water, like he can’t even face me and I don’t blame him. He takes a deep breath, seemingly collecting his thoughts and then he speaks for the last time.

“He is going to kill you from the inside out y/n. You’re going to become just like that dog in his kennels,” he grits, unable to meet my gaze. “And I won’t stick around to watch.”

He walks past me, wings nearly knocking me over.

“Cassian please,” I cry trying to reach out for him, but he’s airborne and flying gods know where before my fingers can graze his leathers.

I stand there watching him disappear into the night sky. Once he’s out of sight I swear I hear a roar so loud it rattles Ramiel. I’m left there on the edge of the river with no one but myself to wipe my tears. And I suppose I deserve that, I should’ve never kissed Cassian that night after the ball, should’ve never gone to bed with him. Should’ve never fallen in love with him.

Turns out it didn’t matter what I did, I was a monster either way.

And I sat and thought about that for a long time.

Part 9

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124 notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 7 months

Note

Request! A Eris x Archeron!yn fic. Imagine a prythian where the high lords are not good and friendly with each other and are now planning a war over one another to take down the court next to them and rule over. Now after a LOT of convincing Autum Court and Night court are forced in a alliance between each other because of yn. Now imagine if one of them sabotages the alliance! What will happen? Who will yn choose? Will she be able to choose between her sisters and mate?

(I don't know if you write for Eris or not. If you don't and you want to write this, you change it to yn being Eris's little sister and being Azriel's mate. Or if you don't want to write this at all that's totally fine too!)

Bloodshed.

Eris week day 2, High Lord

Eris x Archeron!reader

Summary: The world is in chaos, and its not the best time to find the other half of your soul when the people you live with would trade anything to kill your mate.

But that's exactly what has happened with Y/n, and she has no idea how to save him. But maybe she could negotiate?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: hey anon! I love the idea, Eris is one of my most loved acotar males. Soo sorry for the delay in posting this! I didn't have time to write it, and when I did, @erisweek2023 was close, so I thought why not post it then. So, here it is. I hope you like it.

First time participating in a character week, soo excited! 😆

Also make sure to check out other Eris week creations too!❣️

•○🌑○•

Today they would be meeting up with the new High Lord of the Autumn Court. An important court related meeting, as Y/n's brother in law claimed. It wouldn't have been held if not for the new High Lord's ascension to Autumn's throne.

They said it was so that they could try and be allies, but Y/n was no kid. They just wanted to meet with him so that they could find any weaknesses to exploit and get Autumn under their domain.

Since the moment the war against Hybern had ended, the High Lords had been at each others throats. A smile on the face that equalled to a sneer in the privacy of their courts.

And Y/n was sick of their games.

The inner circle was kind enough to everyone in Night Court, but the rulers had slowly and steadily become more and more power hungry, turning on people who they would have once considered friends.

Eris had once been an ally, but he was only a friend for the reason that he fed the inner circle information regarding Beron and his schemes, so he could get some help getting rid of his father in return. It had barely been a week since he became High Lord, and the night court had already started scheming to get Eris off the throne.

She knew that Night Court wasn't the only one who was planning that.

And she hated them for it.

It wasn't that she was interested whether Eris ruled Autumn Court or not, she just wanted him to... not be sad for once.

She had only had a handful of conversations with him, but she knew that he wasn't the evil person he pretended to be. She could see it in his eyes, the bruised and sad look that he always had in those beautiful amber orbs. She didn't know how no one else noticed it.

But she did. She somehow had this irrational urge to soothe him. Soothe all of his worries and comfort him, let him tell her of all that he went through. She wanted to see the man beneath the cold mask of the Autumn Court heir, now High Lord.

It was stupid, she knew, especially because the people who she lived with would probably lock her away if she so much as showed interest in him. But she couldn't help it. It was like her instincts were screaming at her to go–

A knock on her bedroom doors drew her from her thoughts. She flinched from the sudden loud noise before going to open the door. It was her younger sister.

Feyre looked at her, surveying her from head to toe before nodding. "He's here. Come." Y/n followed her towards a meeting room in Moonstone Palace. "I still don't understand why you want to be present in the meeting. It's just going to be fake smiles and Eris's disgusting personality. It's a pain in the ass, if you ask me. He's a pain in the ass. The faster he gets removed from the throne and hopefully dies, the better."

Y/n said nothing.

Y/n and Elain were twins, but Elain was soft, kind and caring, while Y/n was anything but. That didn't deter everyone from assuming she was the same as Elain. That she was naive and wouldn't understand their despicable schemes.

As they entered the meeting room where Eris and most of the inner circle were in, Y/n's heart fluttered.

But then her eyes met with his, and her heart stopped as something started to glow inside of her. He stared back at her, his lips parting.

It was like her soul was freed from a cage as she felt all the love and happiness and confusion in the world surrounding her heart. She smiled slightly, looking at the dazed look on his face.

"Well well, look who's here. I don't know why she wanted to be here, but you can't help when someone doesn't want to understand and is childish–" Rhys said, straightening from the table and sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Y/n. How are you doing?" Eris asked, glaring at Rhys.

"I'm fine. How about yourself?" Her shoulders curved inwards as her brother in law's power whipped around the room.

"I'm good. Thank you for asking."

"Is that all you wanted to ask? If so, you can leave now."

Y/n swallowed. She didn't know why Rhysand had started acting like that around her, but it scared her. He had been like an older brother to her, just like Cassian and Azriel. But one day it was like she woke up in a new world, and she did not recognise anyone. "I– I would–"

"Come Y/n." Eris pulled out the chair next to him, motioning for her to sit in it. She smiled gratefully as she settled down, while Rhysand fumed.

"What were we talking about again before we were interrupted?" Azriel questioned.

"Yes, we were trying to negotiate an alliance." Eris said calmly. But amusement shone on everyones faces as Mor and Feyre snorted. Y/n looked around confused. What was happening?

"There is going to be no negotiation on any alliance. You were very useful in eliminating your father, Eris, but looks like we have no use of you now."

Y/n stiffened, realising that this was no normal meeting. This was an ambush. "Hey, hey. Let's not get hostile." She began when she spied the Illyrians reaching for their weapons. "Why can we not become allies? It would be better–"

"Shut up." Rhysand snapped, stunning Y/n for a moment. And in that moment, a ring of raging fire surrounded Rhysand. He paled as the fire continued spreading around the room, now making a cage like structure around all the members of the inner circle.

"Do not talk to her like that. Ever again." Deadly intention dripped from every word out of Eris's mouth as he stood. She stood along with him, panic clawing up her throat. "You'll be ash before you have time to apologise."

Rhysand snarled, just before a bubble of water surrounded him. Y/n looked around, realising Feyre was the one responsible for the water bubble.

Y/n tugged on Eris's sleeve, and he slowly turned his head to look at her. She shook her head at him, her eyes pleading. He stared at her for a moment before the fire vanished.

As soon as it did, the three illyrians advanced on them. Y/n threw herself in front of Eris, clutching his hands behind her back so he wouldn't do anything reckless again. Which was stupid, as he didn't need his hands to burn the place down.

"Get away from him Y/n." Rhysand said in a deadly voice, continuing to come towards them as Cassian and Azriel pulled out their swords and daggers.

She shook her head, glancing at Feyre helplessy. "Do something!"

"Why would I? Stop acting like that Y/n, he's not a nice person. He deserves to die."

Y/n looked around, hoping someone would help her. "Feyre, I have a question for you. When you first met Rhysand, was he a nice person?"

Feyre's brows furrowed, but she answered, speaking slowly and gently as if speaking to a small child. "No, he was not a nice person. But he's my mate, and when I got to know him more, I realised he was a nice person. But Y/n, is it necessary to ask these stupid questions at this moment?"

"Yes." She turned back to Rhysand. "Please, negotiate an alliance. He's my mate."

Everything was dead silent for a minute, and everyone stared at her. Eris had managed to free his hands from her clutches, and she felt his hands wrapping around her, tugging her back.

"You shouldn't have done that." He whispered in her ear frantically. And when she thought about it, she realised how stupid it was. These people were not ones she had once known. These were bloodthirsty and greedy, and they wouldn't care for their enemy's mate, even though the mate was their family. They could also use her to force Eris to do something. Maybe even leave the throne and go into hiding.

"What did you say?" Rhysand asked, his voice low.

"Please Rhys, you know what it feels like to have a mate. Please don't do this." She glanced at the other Illyrians, who had stopped just behind Rhys.

"You are going to go with him?"

"Yes. I–I want to."

"The bond is clouding your judgement."

"No it is not, I swear."

Rhys glanced at Feyre, conversing mind to mind before sighing. "You'll regret this Y/n, and when you realise it, you'll come back crying to us. Guess we won't have any fun today then."

"Really?"

"Hmm. Well, get back to the table. We'll have to negotiate a stupid alliance then."

•○🌑○•

That had been months ago, and now Autumn Court was safe. At least for the time being.

She continued staring out the window, drinking her monthly contraceptive tea. She and Eris had accepted the bond within one month of the alliance being made, and for the next month, it had been as if they had been wiped of the face of Prythian.

She blushed, thinking of that month. It wasn't as if it didn't still feel like they were in a mating frenzy though. No, Eris would grab her whenever he got one moment of peace. But back then? He had her for himself, uninterrupted most of the time. Any work he had, he would do when she rested. Writing letters to reading reports, keeping tabs on the training of soldiers to the current favourite food of his people, that male did everything, all the while making sure to give her time as well.

And if there was only one thing she knew, it was that she didnt regret her decision. She never would.

She sighed, moving to take a sip from her tea when two strong arms wrapped around her torso. Without a moments hesitation and without realising what she was doing, she relaxed back into the body of her mate.

Her amazing, perfect mate.

As soon as she relaxed, she felt warmth rushing through the bond, a tint of glee and surprise mixed with the love.

"Good morning love." Eris whispered–his voice raspy and clouded with sleep– againt her hair before burying his head in the crook of her neck. She tilted her head back and to the side to give him more space.

"Good morning handsome."

She felt him smile against her, nipping at her. He lifted his head a little so his cheek rested against her.

"What are you drinking?"

"My monthly contraceptive tea."

"That's great."

"I feel like there's more you want to say." She muttered, caressing his arm. She turned to him and he rested his forehead against her.

"Is the tea hot?"

Her brows furrowed. "No, not really. It was brought in quite some time ago. Why?"

"Then finish it up quickly darling."

"Why?" She smirked. She knew why, she just wanted to hear him say it.

"You know why."

"Do I though?" She sipped from the almost finished cup teasingly.

"Hmm. Guess I'll just show you why then."

His eyes twinkled, and she couldn't hold back anymore. So she gulped down the tea in one go before pouncing on him.

•○🌑○•

She stared at herself in the mirror, running her fingers over her deep red gown's neckline.

She and her mate, the High Lord and Lady of Autumn Court, had been invited to the Night Court. They hadn't been provided with a specific reason why the celebration was being held, they just were invited.

Whatever the reason, there was a pit of dread forming in her stomach.

The door creaked open to her chambers and her mate poked his head in. When she turned to look at him, she found his mouth slightly parted, as if he was about to say something.

But then he stepped in, closing the door behind him. He whistled lowly as he walked towards her. "Give me a twirl pretty girl."

She smiled and did exactly that. He whistled flirtatiously, eyeing her body before meeting her eyes. "Would you look at that. Perfect. Absolutely gorgeous."

She blushed like a schoolgirl at the praises spewed from her mate and husband's mouth. It didn't last long as she remembered why she had dressed up in the first place. She turned back to the mirror, a frown on her face.

Eris, of course, noticed it. Moving to stand behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror, he hugged her from the back. "What happened darling? Is something the matter?"

She shook her head. "I'm just a little..."

"Nervous?"

"You could say that."

"We can stay here if you want. I will write to them–"

"No." She cut him off. "This would affect the alliance, especially since Rhysand and Feyre would be looking for any opportunity to launch a war."

"Then we can go to war, my heart. Your comfort comes before all else."

She smiled and turned to him. "I'm glad for that, my love. However, it is necessary that I prioritise the future of Autumn Court. What kind of High Lady would I be if I didn't care for my subjects' wellbeing?"

He smiled and kissed her cheeks. "My darling High Lady. So, are you ready?"

"Not really, but let's get this done with."

He extended his arm to her. As soon as she took it, they began to walk out the door.

But something caught her attention when she spied the guards who would accompany them today. They weren't Eris's personal guards, the ones he trusted. Y/n tugged on her mates sleeves, making him stop.

"Yes?"

She tilted her head towards the guards. "They are new. They are not your guards."

Eris nodded. "Apparently, my brothers seem to think that these guards are better suited to safeguarding us. They are old and trained, seasoned from centuries of working for my father."

As he said those words, Y/n had the feeling that he was also questioning the reason these males were coming with them.

He still didn't trust his brothers, and, despite his advisors telling him to get rid of them, he didn't. He wouldn't, not unless they gave him a reason to.

The pit of dread in her deepened.

She didn't have a good feeling about this.

•○🌑○•

Y/n smiled politely as she talked to her sister. Nesta. Feyre was sitting on her throne.

Her heart was hammering in her ear, and she had become more and more panicked than when she started the evening. The weird feeling that something really bad was about to happen lurked about her being, and she wondered where her mate was.

She tried to look around, her breathing becoming shorter when she didnt find him anywhere in the crowded hall.

Where the hell is he?

"Are you okay?" Nesta gave her an assessing look, her eyes all seeing.

Y/n nodded. "It's just, I've never been away from Eris for long periods of time since before we were mated. Especially in crowded areas. And you know how I hate crowds. And I have also been feeling nauseated since the evening. I'm sure it's nothing..."

She realised she was rambling and Nesta probably wasn't interested in Y/n's wellbeing. So she shut herself up and again looked around, tugging on the bond.

In an instant, Eris's arm was around her waist and he smiled down at her.

"My heart?"

Relief spread through her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Eris."

"Are you alright?"

She shook her head against him. "Too crowded. Too many people. And you weren't near..." She mumbled.

"Oh my darling, I am so sorry I left you alone. But I am here now. You want to go somewhere less crowded?"

She hummed against his warm skin, already calming.

"Come." He said, pulling away from her and turning to the doors. That was when Y/n noticed Rhysand and Cassian standing next to Nesta, eyeing the couple. She swallowed when Rhysand met her eyes before looking away from her in disgust.

It was obvious he would be disgusted, after all she had chosen the enemy over her own family.

She bowed her head, her insecurities rising again after months, and followed Eris to a secluded alcove nearby.

She kept her head lowered, wondering if her family hated her, but then she felt Eris's hand on her chin, and all her worries started ebbing away.

"Hey." He whispered softly, giving her a small smile. "Are you alright?"

"I... don't know."

"It's okay. Talk to me."

"I–I don't know why but... I'm feeling... weird? Like, since the moment we left for here, I've had this feeling that something is about to go wrong and–" her chest heaved and she pressed herself against him, needing his warmth to keep her in the present.

"Hey, hey, nothing is going to go wrong. Don't worry my heart, everything will be fine."

He kissed her head, smoothing his hand down her hair as he murmured sweet nothings onto the top of her head.

A few moments later, she finally calmed. But the dread was still there, like an unwanted guest who refused to leave.

Y/n looked up at her mate, her beautiful, amazing mate. He smiled down at her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. But still Eris, what if something happens?"

He shook his head. "If something happens, I'll be there to handle it."

She sighed. "I know I sound stupid and stubborn–"

"No you don't. It's just your instincts, and there is nothing wrong with feeling that way. We'll be more careful of what is going on around us, and nothing will happen. I promise."

She smiled at him. This was why she loved him.

Before she had left with him, her family always found ways to make her doubt herself. If she suggested an idea, they would look down on it, saying she should stay quiet when she knew nothing about the matter. She had become extremely insecure about herself since then, and tried to stay quiet all the time.

Eris made her realise her worth and brought her back from the dark pit she had descended into.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you more, my heart."

As soon as they left the alcove, the were faced with the whole of inner circle staring them down, as if they had been waiting to pounce on her and her mate. Even Feyre and Mor were there.

Her grip tightened on Eris's hand, and he squeezed back.

"Feyre." She smiled tentatively, wondering if it was the right thing to do.

"Y/n." Feyre nodded stiffly. "Would you like to come with us? We wanted to talk to you, catch up on the events of the past months. See how things were going in the Autumn Court. Just us ladies." Y/n glanced at Eris. He eyed the females, namely Feyre, Nesta and Mor. "Don't worry about him. He'll be occupied with the males. Right Eris?"

She didn't want to go. The only place she wanted to go to was back home. "Um I..."

Everyone's eyes seemed to narrow on her mate, who said nothing.

"Is something the matter?"

She shook her head. "I just don't feel well. I... guess I'll come with you."

The females of the inner circle led her away, out the court room, up a staircase.

By the time they reached the landing of the fourth floor, Y/n's chest was heaving. "Where are we going?"

The three ladies looked at each other before Nesta sighed. "Look, we wanted to talk to you away from him. There isn't a particular place we had in mind."

Immediately, Y/n's blood chilled. She looked around. "What are you trying to say? What did you want to talk about?"

"Y/n... look, the bond seems to be clouding your judgement. He is not the male you think he is. He is manipulating–" Feyre started.

Y/n heaved a sigh. "He. Is. Not. Neither is the bond clouding my judgement."

"You wouldn't realise even if he was manipulating you. So, please let me in your mind. If the bond isn't clouding your mind and he isnt manipulating you, then we will satisfied."

" I married him of my own free will. How many times do I have to say that to get you to fucking understand?"

Silence descended. Unfortunately, it was only for a moment. "Did you– did you just curse?"

Y/n laughed, tired of their presumptions about her. "Why is that so shocking? Hmm? Is it because Elain never curses?" Mor opened her mouth, but Y/n didn't give anyone a chance to speak. "You don't even know what kind of a person I am. You just assumed that because I am Elain's twin, I'll have a similar personality as hers. You never bothered to ask me about my thoughts, always thinking that I was some naive little girl who knew nothing of what she was talking about."

"I– we never–"

"Yeah Feyre, you never."

Before she, or anyone, for that matter, could say or do anything, a scream sounded from below, followed by more.

Y/n turned to look down the stairs through the small opening over the railing. Her sisters and Mor did the same.

There was nothing noticeable accept the red glow on the walls on the bottom most floor.

Her heart picked up again, sweat coating her hands.

The screams got louder, and the glow became more evident as the moments passed.

When she felt a tug on the bond and a pulse of panic from Eris's side, it clicked.

Fire.

This place was on fire.

Shit.

The sound of clanking armor and the soldiers scrambling up the staircase made the the four females draw back from the railings edge. The soldiers made a ring formation around the three females of the inner circle, a few soldiers advancing on Y/n.

She looked at them confused.

It was Nesta who screeched when a soldier raised his sword. "What the hell do you think you are doing! She is our sister, stop advancing on her!"

"Ordered by the High Lord. Catch the enemy. The traitor and his wife."

"She is not the enemy! She is my sister!" Nesta cried out, trying to push her way through the protective circle while Y/n tried to find a way out. She was now pressed against the wall opposite the railing, and she ran her hands against the wall for something to protect herself with.

"That was why she was so nervous. And why she didnt want to come with us. She wanted to get away before the fire started." Feyre's eyes were wide and she pointed an accusing finger in Y/n's direction.

"Why– how can you even think that?! Eris would never do such a thing! I would never–"

"No one is ever going to trust you! Especially when you are a ruler of autumn Court. You married a manipulator, a monster. What are the odds that you haven't become the same in his company?"

"Feyre! Watch your tongue!" Nesta yelled, her eyes pleading. She turned to Y/n. "Tell her it's not true. Tell her you weren't the one who orchestrated this. Tell her!"

As soon as Y/n opened her mouth, her hand closed around something. A rod?

She didn't care, as long as she could use it to defend herself.

She pulled it in front of her, holding it like a sword. And then, just the way Eris had taught her, she leapt forwards, the black iron rod clutched tight in her hands.

The guards were not expecting it, and so the first one was disarmed quickly. She dropped her weapon in favour of picking the sword of the disarmed soldier, who then pulled out another sword hanging down his back and began charging at her.

She tried to hold him off while Nesta did her best to try and stop the males from cornering her.

But it wasn't enough. And there was only one way to stop them.

And she did what was needed.

She didn't care for her life as much as she did for Eris and the pain that he wpuld go through if he lost her. That, and the Autumn Court.

She raised the sword, and in one long, clean strike, severed the head of the closest guard. It stopped others from advancing, at least for a moment.

Y/n tugged on the bond once, but his side seemed to be closed off.

"The High Lord said she didn’t know how to fight." One of the guards said.

"She didn't. Unless, her bastard of a husband taught her." Mor stared at her in disdain.

"What are you waiting for?! Get her!" Feyre ordered, and at once the guards moved.

And so began the killing spree.

•○🌑○•

Eris's pov.

He cut through the men trying to ambush him as he tried to get to his mate. They had taken her somewhere away from him, the reason being unknown but he had an inkling.

So they could convince her to abandon him.

He had been panicked when he realised what was going on. The fire had been started by the men he had brought with him because of his brothers.

Those bastards. He was going to rip them apart when he found them. But that would happen if he was able to escape this hell hole. And for that, he needed to find his wife.

He had known that maybe her sisters were trying to persuade her into leaving him, and selfishly he had wished that she wouldn't leave him. But when the fire started, he realised that she probably would think that he was the one who orchestrated it.

So he had closed off the bond, giving her free will to leave him if she wanted without knowing what he felt. Because, knowing his wife, if she knew he was sad, she'd go to extreme lengths to make him happy. And that would mean staying with him even if she didn't want to.

And he knew he didn't deserve her anyway. She was too good for a bastard like him. It was only a matter of when, not if, she left him.

Just as he reached the staircase, his body locked up.

There she was, running down the stairs, holding her tattered gown in one hand and a bloody sword in another.

He didn't blink, couldn't, as he watched her cut down the men standing in her way.

He watched, fascinated, as she looked up from the male she was currently decapitating.

Her features relaxed, and she hurried down towards him.

The wall he had put up on his side of the bond wasn't strong enough to hold off the flood of relief from her side.

He almost went to his knees before his wife, his goddess. One he had done nothing to be blessed with.

When she was within arms length, she let go of her gown and threw herself at him. He stumbled back, but didn't let go of her.

"Oh mother! Are you okay?!" She questioned, pulling back and running her hands over his shoulder and torso, looking for injuries, all while he stood there staring at her like an idiot.

When he didn't reply, she looked up and snapped her fingers in his face.

That finally got him moving. "I'm fine. But I feel like I should be the one asking that. You look like you've just walked through a blood pond."

At that, she laughed. "We should leave before someone catches us. Come." She began tugging her away, but he held his ground.

"You– you still want to come with me?"

Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Why would I not want that?"

Eris didn't know how to respond. Thankfully, she knew him too well by now and knew what he was thinking.

She stepped closer, bringing a hand up to his jaw, searching his eyes. "Eris," she began softly. "I. Love. You. And I want to be with you. I'll never leave you, even if you beg me to. I'll forever haunt you."

He huffed out a laugh and she smiled.

"They were trying to persuade you to leave me, weren't they?"

Y/n nodded. "They can try."

"I could've been the one to start the fire." He pointed out, and the selfish part of him screamed in outrage.

"We're pretty sure it was him." Rhys spoke from behind Eris. He glanced back stiffly, finding the whole inner circle present.

But Y/n ignored him.

She only spoke to Eris.

"And? Your point being? I don't care if you were the one who started the fire. All I care for is you. Us. I wish you could get that through your thick skull."

She murmured before rising up on her toes and capturing his lips.

When she pulled away, Feyre spoke up. "Y/n, because you are family, we'll give you one chance. Come back to us, and you'll be safe. Go with him, and we'll destroy you along with Autumn Court."

"That's all you do, isn't it Feyre? Destroy courts for petty reasons. First Spring, and now Autumn. Do you ever stop?"

"Watch your tongue Y/n." Rhys snarled.

But it was all a ruse on Y/n's part, because suddenly, the wards were broken, and Eris felt his mate's hand in his, tugging urgently.

So he did as she wanted him to. Winnowed her away.

•○🌑○•

As soon as they appeared in a forest near Autumn Court's border, Y/n turned away and heaved the contents of her stomach on the grass. Eris held back her hair and rubbed her back before she collapsed on the grass.

After a few moments of silence, she started laughing. Eris looked at her incredulously, but her laughter was contagious, and so he followed her, lying next to her on the grass and laughing.

"Aren't you a clever little fox. That was amazing." He muttered when their laughter had fied down. He brushed his fingers against hers, feeling a smile lifting the corners of his lips.

"The bloodshed?"

"The breaking of wards. The bloodshed too."

She hummed happily. After a pause, she turned to Eris.

"I know it wasn't you Eris."

He didn't have to agrre to that, so he didn't. "There will be a war." He mumbled.

She nodded. "I know."

"You should have stayed back. With them."

"I would never do that."

"You could die here–"

"And I could also die there. At least if I die here, I'd have died for something good. And I dont care if I die."

His throat clogged. He just whispered one word.

"Why?"

She smiled, resting her head on his chest.

"Because I love you, you dumbass. We'll get through this together."

He nodded, even though she could not see.

"Together."

•○🌑○•

General taglist: @eos-princess @bubybubsters @nightless

208 notes · View notes

rfxiii · 8 months

Note

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but can u do one where Trevor and reader r playing tennis and reader wins, and Trevor give reader a ‘reward’?

Luv ur work btw!

Trevor and the Reader Playing Tennis Together:

(Summary: Trevor invites the reader on a date, taking her to one of Los Santos’ many tennis courts. In an effort to raise the stakes, Trevor suggests a bet- whoever wins the match gets a prize)

[the readers pronouns weren’t specified so I went with a fem!reader but if that’s not what you wanted feel free to reach out and I’ll edit or re-write!]

*TW: Smut

(Word Count: 2087)

Outings with Trevor were always a whirlwind. He kept you on your toes even on a simple trip to the grocery store. So when you find yourself out late at night, on the tennis court, with Trevor dressed in those little athletic shorts that leave very little to the imagination, you’re not exactly surprised. He’d always been into things like hockey and golf, but seeing him bouncing on his toes across from you, holding his tennis racket as if it’s a weapon, was honestly a bit comical.

With a mischievous grin on his cracked, scarred lips, Trevor beckons you to join him for a match. And despite your vague reservations, knowing how competitive he can get, you agree- holding your own racket tightly as you prepare.

“What’s with the face, sugar? Ya afraid Uncle T is gonna beat ya?” Trevor taunts, appearing incredibly confident for a man who looks like he’s never played tennis in his life.

“Don’t get cocky, Trev! I may just surprise you.” you fire back, unwilling to let him under your skin before the match has even begun.

“Ooh! I like it when you’re feisty, angel. Ok! Let’s make things interesting, huh? How bout a wager? Winner gets to pick whatever prize they want.”

You consider momentarily. You’re no tennis pro, that’s for sure. But you feel confident enough that you can hold your own. But then again, you know Trevor well enough to be sure that if you lose there’s literally no limit of insanity to what he could request from you. You weigh the pros and cons, finally deciding that the look on his face if you managed to beat him would be well worth the risk.

“Ya know what? Bring it on, T!” you agree- confident grin on your lips as you spin your racket in a smug display.

The game begins quickly, and much to your dismay, Trevor displays an uncanny knack for tennis. His manic demeanor seems to transform into pure energy as he focuses on the game, delivering violent serves and aggressive spins. You find yourself struggling to keep up, but the thought of losing to him quickly turns your surprise into heated determination.

With each volley, you find yourselves laughing, shouting at each other, and exchanging playful, yet heated, taunts. And as the sets go on, you begin finding your rhythm after a clumsy beginning, putting up a determined fight against Trevor's unconventional yet shockingly effective playing. He’s still doing incredibly well, but you’re keeping up. And you’ll be damned if you lose to him. The thought of his victory request is far from your mind now as your only fear is having to face his smug, taunting grin if he wins.

You swing your racket hard, and Trevor lunges, his quick attempt to return the shot falling just short as the ball hits the ground, and your victory is solidified with your triumphant cheers and maybe a bit of heckling that you’re not exactly proud of.

“God! Fuck! Fuck! Come on!” Trevor growls, tossing his racket into the ground as he stomps like a raging toddler- he’d never handled losing well. But, just like his moods usually do, his anger quickly changes as he gives you a smarmy grin and waltzes across the court to pull you into a handsy embrace.

He’s damp with musky sweat, and you can still feel his heart pounding beneath his ribs from where his chest is pressed flush with yours. His full, chapped lips are parted in heavy gasps, his thinning hair is stuck to his head in a slick sheen of sweat, and there’s just something about his body heaving from exertion that’s pulling in all of your attention.

“Well, sugar-.. Fair is fuckin’ fair, I guess. So, go on. Do your worst! Whaddaya want?” Trevor pries, dropping a bit of his weight into your arms and looking at you with those chocolate brown puppy dog eyes full of mischief. He’s always been able to sense your want, and you damn him for that, because before your request even leaves your lips he’s already sporting a lecherous grin on his taunting face.

“Wipe that smile off your lips, Trev. You lost. So now you’re gonna be a good boy and put that dirty mouth to good use. I’m tired of hearing you talk.” you huff out- anxious and a bit unfamiliar with taking the dominant role. But the low growl he lets out and the way his filthy, calloused hands slide down your body and under your little tennis skirt is enough to let you know he’s going to enjoy this just as much, if not more, than you do.

His rough touch drags up your thigh, his split nails scratching up the delicate flesh until his fingers press against the thin fabric of your underwear. They prod and rub roughly without much finesse but with enough eager energy to more than compensate for his lack of tenderness. You choke on a breathy gasp, fingers flying up to grip at his shoulder and tug him closer- your forehead dropping to his chest where you hear his ragged breath and low moans.

“Yeah? You like that, sugar?” Trevor chuckles, the low rasp of his voice sending sparks straight between your thighs.

A soft whimper ghosts past your lips, head tilting up to gaze at him with desperate eyes, “Trevor.. Wait.. Someone could see..”

“It’s late. Nobody is gonna be out here. Unless…ya want me to stop? The prize is time sensitive though, darlin’. So, I’d think quick.” Trevor challenges, his fingers working fast, firm circles against you in a taunting rhythm.

It’s hard to think, let alone argue, when he touches you like this. And he knows he’s won before you’ve even had a chance to speak up, “N-no.. Trevor.. I-.. Don’t stop..” you find yourself whining. And the awful, twisted smile splitting his lips shows his enjoyment clearly on his face.

“That’s what I thought. Now be good, and let old Trevor take care of ya. Huh, angel face?” he goads, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear to press against your needy clit.

Your legs nearly buckle beneath you, a hand digging tightly into Trevor’s bicep while the other tangles fingers in the thicker hair at the back of his head. The high, whimpery moan that escapes your lips has him grinning. And as he works his gnarled fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness that he’s caused there, he lets out a groan nearly as desperate as yours, “Oooh fuck, baby.. You’re fuckin’ dripping.. If I had known how bad you fuckin’ wanted it, we’d have stayed the fuck home tonight.”

Your hips grind fitfully against his hand, craving the friction those vile fingers of his provide. He easily senses your desperation, leaning down to nip and suck at your throat while his slick tongue traces against the grooves he’s bitten into your neck like a twisted apology to soothe the sting. Your needy reactions have him working harder, paying pointed attention to your damp clit, and focusing on each flex of his fingers that makes you cry out the loudest.

“Trevor.. Trevor! Please.. I’m so close! Please, more?” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes as you waver right on the cusp of blissful completion. Thankfully he’s always been just as needy as you. And tonight he has no intentions of teasing you by denying what you both need.

“Turn around.” Trevor orders, not giving you the chance to move on your own as he spins you roughly around, forcing you to grip the chain link fence bordering the tennis court to keep your balance. He presses into you from behind, grinding himself against you while the fabric of those little shorts do next to nothing to restrain his hard cock prodding at your ass beneath your skirt, “You feel how fuckin’ bad I want ya, sugar? Fuck! You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

He’s always so needy for you and it never fails to make you feral. You press back against him, grinding your ass into his growing bulge until he quickly becomes tired of the teasing foreplay, ripping your panties down your thighs and pinning you so far forward your face nearly presses into the chain link, “Fuckin’ teasing me all night with that little skirt, running your mouth, tellin’ me what to do.. Fuuuck! You know I love it. Let Uncle T give ya your reward now, sugar.”

“Please.. Please.. Trevor, please.” you gasp out like a prayer, gazing over your shoulder with fingers trembling where they grip like a lifeline to the chain link.

His movements are frantic and aggressive while he tugs his little shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free. He’s so hard it almost looks painful for him with his tip flushed violent red and steadily leaking pre-cum. He spits thickly into his palm, stroking himself a few, rough times- not that he needs the extra lubrication, as you feel your own arousal close to dripping down your inner thighs. Trevor’s rugged, scarred hand grips your hip while the other remains on his cock, lining himself up with your soaked, nearly aching cunt before he presses a kiss to the back of your neck in a bastardized version of gentle intimacy, “That's it, baby.. Lemme show ya just how good you did tonight..”

He presses forward in one harsh snap of his hips, hitting you deep inside in that one spot he’s memorized you loving. You practically sob for him, clinging to the fence and struggling to rock your hips in time with his frantic, disarranged rhythm. His hand rears back suddenly, delivering a firm slap to the smooth, delicate skin of your ass and pulling a shocked, euphoric cry from your lips. You’re trembling and he has no intentions of slowing his manic, disorienting pace. And when his harsh, careless fingers assault your clit you feel yourself nearing your end.

“Trevor! Oh fuck, Trevor! Don’t stop! Please! I- I’m so close! Fuck! Fuck!” you babble out, unable to restrain your loud tone as you’ve long since shed your fear of being caught in public like this- the pleasure clouding your mind as your previous reservations melt away.

“Oh fuck yes! You’re so fuckin’ perfect! Oh god! That’s it, sugar! Take it!” Trevor growls, hips driving mercilessly into you and fingers working you over so well he has you on the verge of tears. You feel him twitching inside you, his moans growing louder and desperate as you both feel yourselves nearing your end.

Your chin drops to your chest, your head hanging limp in pleasure with your legs trembling so terribly it’s close to impossible to stand, “Trevor! I’m- I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop! Please! Please! Ooh god, Trev! You feel so fucking good!” you plead- the praise only spurring him on with his hips snapping against you so viciously it’s sure to leave you bruised.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck! I love you, I love you-“ Trevor rambles, a telltale sign he’s close to his own end. And when his grip tightens almost painfully against your hip, and his fingers pace against your clit becomes stiff and rhythmless you both reach your peak with sharp and sudden explosions of euphoria, “AUGH! FUCK! I LOVE YOU! FUCK!” he shouts, his release ruining your insides as you cum around him- your slick, combined fluids trailing down your thighs as his pace begins to slow.

“Trevor… Oh my god.. Fuck.. You’re..fucking amazing..” you gasp with legs trembling and heart pounding in your chest.

He pulls out with a weak, pathetic whimper, wrapping his arms around you and pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your sweaty throat, “Goddamn, sugar.. That was fuckin’-.. Wow. Competition really does bring out the best in ya, don’t it?” he teases while readjusting himself and pulling up his shorts.

You bite back a groan at the dampness between your sore thighs, pulling up your panties and straightening your skirt while fighting back a grimace as his cooling cum soaks the fabric, “Ya know what, T?” you giggle softly, pulling him into a teasing embrace with arms looped around his neck, “Maybe we should wager like this more often. I think I kinda like the rewards you give.”

A smirk twists his scarred lips as he leans down and pulls you into a wet, despicable kiss that promises that this night is far from over, “Sugar, I like the way you think.”

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #requests

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smartycvnt · 5 months

Text

Traitor

Title: Traitor

Pairing: Rita Calhoun x Reader

Summary: Y/n's relationship with Rita brings tension to the SVU.

Word Count: 1141

Y/n knew to expect tension as they waited for the perp's council to get there. This case had been rough on everyone, and a good amount of the potential suspects were all represented at the same firm. Y/n had been hopeful that it wouldn't be Perez, but of course, she hadn't been so lucky.

The man was among the richest and most powerful in the city, and his counsel reflected that. Rita was the best of the best. Her rates were high, and there was a good reason for that. It didn't matter how concrete your evidence was, she could find another way to make someone on the opposition trip up.

She had been a force of nature back whenever she was a prosecutor. SVU had the highest conviction rate of any of the units back then. All of it had changed after Rita left however. A lot of things had changed, not that Y/n held any of it against Rita. She wanted her girlfriend to be happy and follow her passion.

"Why do you look all guilty like that?" Fin asked Y/n. He was eyeing her suspiciously. She had been tense since they found out that the DNA matched Perez's. He knew that Y/n knew something she wasn't telling them about. "You didn't help this asshole, did you?"

"No, but I know his counsel," Y/n admitted. Fin's face fell as he realized exactly what that meant for them. SVU had been lucky enough to not have gone toe-to-toe with Rita Calhoun just yet, but it was coming. Fin had heard about her, all the things that she was capable of doing.

"What am I missing here?" Amanda asked as she looked between them. Y/n just shrugged it off, hopeful that they wouldn't have to talk about it. Y/n had hopped around a few units before, none of which had ever received Rita warmly. They were always hostile, even if they hadn't ever gone up against her in court.

"Don't worry about it," Y/n muttered as she tried to find something to busy herself with. She hoped that she'd be able to be busy when Rita got there, but of course, that wasn't the case. Y/n had managed to completely finish the few reports that hadn't been completed just as Rita walked onto their floor of the precinct.

Y/n always loved watching Rita whenever she was working. Rita was the embodiment of power and grace. She sacrificed nothing of either of achieve exactly what she wanted most of the time. Everybody who knew about her tensed up, and even Amanda, who had never heard of Rita before, seemed to get the gist that they were screwed.

"Take me to my client," Rita ordered. She was curt, something that rubbed Y/n the wrong way. Y/n shot Rita a warning glance, one that didn't go unnoticed by Amanda. Unfortunately for Y/n, none of their interaction seemed to go unnoticed by Amanda. "Please?"

"Right this way counselor," Y/n said with a genuine smile. Rita blushed and followed Y/n towards interrogation. Y/n walked back to her desk, where Amanda was perched on the edge. "Can I help you with something Detective Rollins?"

"You and the bitchy lawyer, you're friends or something, right?" Amanda asked.

"Or something," Y/n said as she held her hand up. Amanda was taken aback by the wedding ring on her finger. Amanda knew that Y/n was married, but she had never in a million years thought Y/n would go after a lawyer. Much less one that worked for the defense.

"So you can keep her on a leash for this, right? She knows how important this case is for us?" Amanda asked. Y/n clenched her jaw as she glanced towards Fin for help. He looked completely off in his own world, despite the fact that Amanda wasn't talking quietly enough for only the two of them were hear.

"I can't control Rita any more than she can me, Amanda. She's here to do a job the same as us. So just go back to your desk and make sure that it's as hard for her to get this guy off the hook as possible," Y/n ordered. It wasn't often that the Y/n spoke to anybody like that. She knew that Amanda would be resentful about it for a while, but there wasn't much else that Y/n could think to do.

The bullpen was a bit tense for the rest of the afternoon, which only got worse when Rita walked right out of the interrogation room with her client. Benson looked pissed and pulled Amanda and Fin into her office. Y/n was terrified that Benson was ripping into them for something that Rita had brought to light in the arrest. Her fears were realized when Amanda stomped back over to her desk.

"Everything okay?" Y/n asked Fin. He just gave a curt nod as he sat back down in his seat. Things were tense and quiet until Amanda spoke up as everyone was leaving.

"Are you really going to just let her walk all over us with this case?" Amanda asked. "I bet you like the nice, cushy paychecks when she wins, don't you?"

"I can't do this again. I can't start all over in a new unit. Get over yourself and accept that Rita and I are going to be together even if she gets our perp off the hook. I can't run home screaming at her every single time she bats for a criminal. At the end of the day, it's a job. I can't lose the best thing in my life over a job," Y/n told her. It was nice to finally get all of that off of her chest, and it seemed like Y/n had really gotten through to Amanda. The blonde's expression softened signficantly.

"I'm sorry," Amanda apologized. She kept her eyes downcast liked a child full of shame. Y/n realized in that moment how much younger Amanda was compared to her. She had done her time in Atlanta, but Y/n had been on the force for nearly 20 years.

"I won't lie to you and say that it's all fine, but we can work past this. I'll have your back when you need it, but if you ever say anything to Rita like that, I'll wring your neck out myself," Y/n told her. Amanda swallowed fearfully as she nodded. Y/n was surprised that Amanda stood down like that, but she was grateful for the lack of physicality to their little argument. It wouldn't be easy, but eventually, Y/n's unit would get used to the idea of Y/n being with Rita.

#my writing #one shot #rita calhoun x reader #rita calhoun #svu x reader #svu #law & order x reader #law & order

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hoedorokishoto · 2 years

Text

ace of aces

“See Princess, you are saying one thing but your body is saying another.” Daiki purred, his long fingers running down your bare thigh.

You knew that it was bad. Bad in so many ways. Bad for your mind, bad for soul and worst of all, bad for your heart.

Both of you knew what the arrangement was. Sex only, using each other’s bodies as a way of releasing stress and tension. The burden of being the Ace of Aces and being top of your class sometimes getting the better of you and the power forward. Skin and tongues colliding being the best way for everyone involved.

“I saw how you were talking with that loser Wakamatsu. Giggling and touching his arm. Like a little school-girl.” He growled this time. His mouth leaving hot wet kisses down the column of your neck.

You smirked through the pleasure, your eyes closing as you laughed out, “I am a school-girl.”

“You know what I fucking mean, always have to have your smarty pants on nice and tight.” Daiki said, a small smile curving the ends of his mouth.

“They are the only pants that tend to stay on when you are around Aomine.” You all but moaned. Your back arching and your chest pressing against the man above you.

“Just the way I like it Princess. I love that smart arse mouth for sure but I love it even more when it choking on my cock.” He whispered, shivers going up your spine at his words. Daiki always was a master with words. Dirty words to be exact. You could write a 2000 word essays and none would be as eloquent and refined as Daiki Aomine when he whispered the dirtiest, toe curling profanity that came out of this man’s mouth.

Not only did he enter the zone on the court he seemed to do the same in the bedroom. Never once did you leave this man’s bed feeling anything but sated and completely satisfied.

“Does it bother you? The idea of me and Wakamatsu? Me and someone who would want to be seen with me?” You almost whispered, your froggy brain letting the venom of your thoughts slip through. Your eyes still lidded as you looked up at him.

“You’re fucking right it bothers me. If you think that anyone would make you scream louder, cum faster and better than me, then maybe you aren’t as smart as you claim to be. I’ve all but ruined you for anyone else. No one, especially that blonde haired bitch would even come close to making you feel how I do.” He seethed down at you. His fingers pushing past your lips and into your mouth. His fingers heavy and thick on your tongue. The distinct plastic taste of a basketball always present on his fingers.

“I mean look at you now. I’ve barely touched you and all I would need to do is play with that pretty little clit and you would come all over these fingers. Then I’d shove them back in here and watch you suck off every last drop.”

“Isn’t that right Princess?” He questioned, tilting his head to the side. Looking your naked body up and down.

He could only nod, your body heavy with desire. Small tears appearing in your eyes, while your body was on fire. Daiki prying your mouth open and spitting. His saliva warm and heavy against your tongue. The taste making you whimper with need. A taste that you knew you would never tire of.

“That’s a good girl, always so happy to take whatever I give her. Such a good little slut.” He said, his signature cocky smirk back as he placed a small kiss on your lips.

“I am going to fuck you now… So hard that you won’t even remember your own name little own Bakamatsu.” He said, grabbing your hips and scooting you down the bed to meet him hips.

“Don’t be afraid to make noise baby, I don’t plan on holding back.”

Your uniform barely covered all the marks. Left by Daiki, your face permanently red as you walked the halls, your hair barely covering the number 5 Daiki managed to suck into your neck.

The mark only big enough that someone quite close could see. A fact you found out as you turned a corner and ran into Wakamatsu. His eyes zeroing in on your neck and the skin of your thighs that was exposed by your skirt.

“Can that motherfucker really not loose anything?” He grumbled, taking off his scarf and wrapping it around your neck, before striding off, profanities about a certain Miracle spilling from his mouth.

Taglist - @chm1508 @nightstar165 @alovese @coffeechangbeanie @bethchurch @wind-17 @raccon-eyes @thoughtfulgooppeanutparty @mjtagoylo

#knb #knb smut #kuroko no basuke #aomine smut #aomine #daiki aomine #daiki smut #knb x reader

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r0-boat · 9 months

Text

Courting gift

Tarzan! Emmet x gn!reader.

Sfw drabble

When Zoroark's court, they give valuable gifts, whether that be food or some sort of trophy from accessible hunt, anything to show their strength and ability to provide.

Emmet was in a dilemma with this human he had been watching for quite a while. You were indeed not a Zoroark, and he had not cared enough in the past to pay attention to what humans like to give their mates. He would like to kick his past self in the tail now that he was actively trying to court the human that had just set up camp in the middle of the woods.

What do humans like??

This question he pondered while digging through his den, deciding to hold on to some sparkling rocks that caught his interest and some bones from his greatest kills. His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance; you ignored the berries and bones he had left before he almost got your attention with the shiny rocks. He watched you from the dense brush as you picked up one to inspect it, only to put it to the side.

Humans were quite picky creatures, but he would not give up. He did not want to lose you to a weak and inferior human he always sees stumbling around the man-made dens.

No, he was better as the same member of your species that seem to have a close bond with Pokemon as you did. And not only that, he was strong, having been essentially raised by Zoroark apex predators of Hisui. He could hold his own against any threat that threatened you, he could make sure you were fed every day, and he could provide you with warmth and love beyond your wildest dreams. Emmet hated losing, especially when he was obviously the better choice.

That's when his eyes laid upon it, his precious treasure, a medium-sized rock that he had found back when he was fooling around in the caves with the pups in his pack. For some reason, the indents and markings drew him to this rock. And he knew that you would be drawn to this rock like he was before.

When he laid the rock in front of your tent, his heart hammered in his chest like the last few times he had placed something in front of your tent before. He had never interacted with another member of his own species; now, the thought of doing so scared him. At some point, Emmet wants to get closer, but for now, just watching you from a distance is enough

With a yawn, you stretch your first week camping alone in the wilderness. It was Child's Play compared to your previous excursions going head to head with dangerous Alpha Pokemon. However, a few days after trying to map out your camping spot and the forests surrounding it, you've had peculiar things happen to you. It seems something or someone had been leaving items around your tent. You thought at first it was some wild Pokemon, but you have come to realize that the Pokemon around here were far too skittish around humans for that.

First, it would be berries. The berries looked fresh enough though you had no idea where they came from then; it was shiny rocks and bones. You wish you could at least find the Pokemon that was giving you these trinkets, and they get with at least a scratch under the chin and coo about its cute and unusual behavior. When you crawled out of your tent, you had failed to see the much larger Rock from the last just outside your tent.

You hissing pain as you stub your toe picking up the rock. Your eyes widen when you turn it over. It was just a plain rock at first, but the markings that resembled a feather felt nostalgic for you, a sense of warmth culminating in your chest as your fingers gently traced over the plume. Wanting to keep this strange rock that gave you such a feeling of warmth safe, you brought out your bag from your tent, stuffing the stone inside.

From the bushes, his eyes widen, seeing the slight smile on your face, his heart trumming in his chest.

Does this mean you accept his courting gift?

He wanted to puff out his chest in pride and March up to you, presenting himself as the male who gave that illustrious gift to you, but something within him stopped him. The idea of your eyes upon him made butterflies flutter in his stomach; the concept of Emmet being in your presence made him feel shy. He wasn't ready, but he didn't want someone else to take you. He would have to work up the courage, and by tonight, he would finally meet you. What could possibly go wrong?

#Submas #pokemon emmet #subway boss emmet #tarzan!submas #tarzan!emmet #pokemon emmet x reader

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giorno-plays-piano · 1 year

Text

Adore Adore

Part II

Pairing: king!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Steve, obsession, noncon, threats, mentions of murder and misogyny, magic.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: The King looked just as you remembered him the last time you were summoned to the court along with your father to the coronation: he seemed to emit light anywhere he went, bold and overpowering and radiant, with his perfectly golden hair and white teeth and unearthly blue eyes, and people were drawn to him like moths to the flame.

Part I

P.S. There is no description of reader’s appearance, but there’s a mention she has short hair.

_____________

By the next morning everyone knew count's daughter charmed the young King despite how much you tried to shy away from his touch and not speak much when he loudly declared he had found an object of his affections. Of course, your father was extatic. An only daughter, and the one not even handsome enough, becoming King's favorite from the moment he saw her! The old count wouldn't care even if you told him the King was cruel and cold and there was something unnatural about him and the golden glow he emitted. What of it all when now the count got to be a father-in-law to His Majesty, the most noble man in the country with so many chests of gold he wouldn't be able to count them all. Worse, the King was kind to him, humoring him with a small talk and an unusual niceness, keeping the facade of a benevolent master, and it made your blood boil and your mouth hurt from how hard you were clenching your teeth to stay quiet.

Why did he choose you? You with your plain face and a simple silver gown so carefully chosen to avoid any attention because the King treasured beauty and gold above anything else. You didn't even talk long enough for him to decide whether he liked you or not when he just threw a glance at you and declared you are to be wed soon, making other ladies nearby faint.

No, something was wrong. The King you knew was not fickle. He did not go around changing his brides day after day.

"It is a challenge that entices him," your old nanny said, helping you out of your gown when you had been finally left alone in your chamber. "He chose you because no one else had ever said no to him. Be pliant and warm and welcoming, and he will find a better object of his affections."

She didn't see why the King nearly made you retch since she was blind to his light like any other noble or servant, but she was the woman who had raised you and knew you better than you yourself did. You wouldn't go against your father's wishes so ardently if you didn't have a solid reason, she said. If you believed the King was cold and cruel, then he surely was.

Before you went to sleep that night, she had made you smile and laugh and curtsy until she was satisfied with the expressions you wore, ensuring you were ready to face the King tomorrow. Make him regret choosing you, she said. Be sweet and kind, do anything he tells you, and he will quickly forget your face in the crowd of other beauties, your nanny whispered into your ear the next morning before you left, dressed in gold from head to toe.

And you were pliant, you were gentle and gracious, and even your father was perplexed with a sudden change in your character, but he said nothing to you. All for the better to him who already saw himself the most noble man after His Majesty. Nevertheless, when you smiled pleasantly and curtsied to the King with your head bent low, he narrowed his too-eager eyes and said nothing to you, too. He spent the whole day in the manner everyone expected of a king, dancing, drinking, talking to the nobles about unimportant matters, and proclaiming his love to you for everyone to hear, forcing you to trail after him obediently like a dog. It was suffocating and ill-mannered and wrong, and you could do nothing to escape King's attention.

Even when you excused yourself for a breath of fresh air the way you did yesterday, he went after you discreetly and pulled you into his embrace behind a heavy golden curtain when nobody saw. You stilled in his arms, afraid to turn your head to him and let your facade you so carefully constructed crumble, and the King chuckled, lowering his mouth to your ear so that his quiet breathing made your skin burn.

"You are my clever fox," he let out a laugh, his clotheness bringing a wave of heat to your cheeks. "You think if you can fool me with your smiles, and I'd be glad to be swept of my feet, but when we'll be alone in my chambers you'll be cold and hateful, and I love it the most."

Tears were coming to your eyes from humiliation and anger, and you felt sorely urged to weep, but the presence of the King kept you cold and silent, and so you stood until he parted from you with a kiss to your temple, dissappearing behind the curtain.

You stood there all alone until you found your body moving again, the tips of your fingers burning and your throat sore.

You knew then nothing would persuade the King, neither your tears nor your obedient smiles, to free you from the chains he had already put you in. He was mad, wasn't he? He wanted a woman who despised him openly and did not wish him well. He was eager to put this woman on a throne as long as he could have her in his chambers.

Something was very, very wrong with the young King.

But you no longer wept when you came back to the room you occupied in the castle before your future husband made you the Queen. If tears wouldn't help, perhaps threats would.

You couldn't explain why it was so wrong to marry Steven Grant Rogers, the son of the former King and a witch-maid, but something was telling you he was dangerous and mad and deadly cold, and you could not waste your life away for him. Anything, anything was better than being wed to the King.

Bribing the guards stationed outside his chamber wasn't difficult. You were not the first girl trying it, but you were the bride he was going to wed soon, and your excuse about wishing to please your King seemed to work as men smirked knowingly and let you in. The part where you convinced yourself to bring the dagger underneath your skirts was much more challenging: you were not versed in threats of violence or, worse, torture.

But it had to be done, hadn't it? He would not stop unless you scared him to death, made him fear for his life, and King's life was worth far more than a marriage to some girl who didn't even belong with the capital's nobles. No, this would do the trick, and even if you failed and he killed you in a mad glee, somehow it still felt better than spending your life with this man. Were you to leave the chamber and drop your dagger shining in the dark, perhaps, you'd wonder what it was that made you act like a mad woman, forget you had barely held a weapon in your arms before and certainly didn't wish death upon anyone at all. But by then you were at your wits end, shaking on top of King's colossal bed, waiting for him to step in his chamber and swallow the bait.

________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @youngdreamer3214 @eralen

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers #yandere #captain america

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munsonsskinnyjeans · 2 years

Note

Plz make more Jason carver story’s, smut or not. I just need them and you write the best ones😇🙏

GOOD GIRL

JASON CARVER X FEM READER!

WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT!

REQUEST!

WARNING THE SC (sexual content) IN THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: teasing, reader is (18), breast play, hickies, daddy kink, clit play, fingering, penetrative sex (fem receiving), blow job (or just basically face f*cking), begging, !dom Jason X sub reader! praise, dirty talk, ass grabbing, spitting (fem on male) mentions of tasting one another's fluids! (cum only), oral sex (male receiving), hair pulling, degrading, use of the word whore and slut, fucking from behind!

Jason felt the basketball roll off the tip of his fingers and into the hoop he jogged to grab the bouncing ball from the court,

he heard the doors of the gym creak open tucking the basketball under his arm turning to face his girl friend y/n she held her gym bag on her shoulders still dressed in her cheer uniform.

"hey baby how was practice" he asked spinning the basketball on his finger giving her a smile

"it was good just busy you know?" She said walking closer to Jason he wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead his hands pulled on her waist drawing her body closer to him

"frisky today are we" she teased at him while their faces were just centimeters apart his hands traced down to underneath her cheer skirt his hands resting on part of her ass.

"We have a game at 7 tonight" he whispered to her

"We can do a quickie?" she asked him looking down at her watch.

"It's already 6:25 and my team mates get here for practice at 6:30" she frowned at his words pouting her lip out.

"I'm sorry baby I'll make it up to you after the game" he smiled at her watching Lucas and Andy step threw the gym doors greeting him.

"Fine daddy I can wait" she stood on her tippy toes slighty to whisper the words in his ear watching him gulp harshly as her feet went back flat on the ground

"be a good girl for me and I'll reward you later" he said slapping her ass lightly before walking to his team mates.

By the time the game was over y/n couldn't resist her self from Jason she was so needy for him she practically was rushing for him to say goodbye to his friends so that they could go home and play.

by the time they got to her house she ran up to the bedroom stripping all of her clothes sinking back into her bed.

"you were such a good girl waiting for me Princess and your routine today definitely deserves a reward" he said crawling over her naked body.

"P-please daddy" she whimpered at him.

He liked the idea that she was always needy for his touch.

The way that he could only satisfy her and the best part was he loved the fact he was the only man who had ever seen her like this, bare and "innocent" practically begging to be touched.

"Tell me how much of a good girl you were today."

"I was so good today daddy I promise you!" She exclaimed her hands fiddling with her pink bed sheets beneath her.

He lifted up one of her hands kissing it softly while he closed his eyes shut playing with her fingers,

"can we play I'm tired of waiting" she whined at him her body squirmed underneath his so he moved his hands to her wrists pinning them down against her bed,

he didn't say anything but he started to kiss softly on her breasts taking one of her nipples in his mouth swirling his tongue around of her nipples giving both breasts equal attention.

He started to trace his tongue down in between the valley of her breasts licking a stripe until he stopped at the edge of her stomach he pulled away his tongue looking up at her.

"do you wanna play now y/n?" He asked watching her rapidly nod her head

"you're gonna have to use your words"

"Yes daddy!" She replied back to him feeling the grip from his hands loosen letting them free but he pulled them above her head resting on the pillow

"keep those there" he spoke firm but yet gently at the same time.

She looked into his eyes while his hands roamed around her body she was so impatient from the lack of touch that she was kicking her legs slightly

"calm down I'll get there I'm just gonna take my time with you" his hand was rested onto her stomach his eyes looking up at her.

"do you promise to be good while I take my time?" He asked watching her nibble on her lip

"mhm" she replied back to him while her lips tugged upwards to form a small smile his hand glided under her chin lifting it up

"that's a good girl already" he praised sending a shoot of butterflies throughout her stomach.

His thumb glided to her clit rubbing in slow circles as he heard her croak out for more

"what's the magic word sweetie?" He whispered nibbling at part of her bottom lip

"p-please can I have more daddy?" She pleaded softly feeling his teeth pull away from her lip

He sped up his pace on her clit her arms reached up to grip the bed frame above her because she knew she wasn't aloud to touch him until he gave her permission.

he was drawing circles on her clit at a gruesome place feeling her jump slightly underneath him

he lifted his fingers to her mouth "spit" he commanded to her feeling her saliva drop down onto her fingers he used his other hand to wipe the drool dripping from her chin

"such a good whore for daddy" he cooed sticking two fingers inside of her pussy.

she cried out softly at the feeling of two of his fingers plummeting into her dripping cunt

it was making it hard for her to get her words out from her lips with the amount of force his fingers were giving inside of her.

she cried out in joy every time his fingers curled inside of her pussy hitting her g spot,

she could feel her nails sink into the bed frame behind her while her hips were bucking in the air.

"C-cum!" She gasped out rapidly her chest was rising up and down quickly while she panting gasping for air every time her mouth would lap agape from a moan

"tell me why daddy should let you cum?" He asked her moving his hands up to her throbbing clit

"I've been a good girl today and I was patient!" She said her nails feeling like they were going to break off and her fingers a pale white from how hard she was gripping her bed frame.

"Beg for me baby I wanna hear you beg as loud as you can"

"Please daddy! I need to cum so fucking bad" she was slamming her head against the pillow while her eyes started to roll into the back of her head knowing she couldn't hold it any longer

"that's my princess cum on my fingers" he told her feeling her walls clench around his fingers

he felt the hot sensation cover them as he pulled them out of her looking down at his finger covered in her juices he brought them up to his mouth his tongue licking every ounce of her on them clean,

"you taste so fucking good" he watched her pant slightly nodding her head.

"Do you want daddy to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?" He asked slipping of his lower half revealing how hard he was from playing with her she felt him fill her mouth with his cock straddling her.

she could feel his cock hit the back of her throat the tears in her eyes prickling slightly as she took his full length in her mouth

she hummed against him to send a vibration to his core causing him to let out a loud groan pinning down both of her wrists while her nails dug slightly into his knuckles.

"Your taking daddy's cock so well just a few more minutes and you'll get to taste me soon baby" one of his hands remained pinning down her wrists while the other stroked her face softly feeling his seed spill into her mouth

he pulled out of her his cock dripping with his cum but she leaned forward licking it clean

"you liked being daddy's cum slut don't you?" He asked brushing aside some of the hair in her face

"Yes daddy" she replied eagerly for what he had planned next, "flip over on your stomach on yours fours" he commanded at her watching her follow his instructions perfectly.

He lined up with the entrance of her pussy tugging slightly at her hair yanking her back

"tell me how good of a slut you were today for me princess" he said tightening his grip on her hair.

"I've been such a good slut for you daddy"

"Why do you think you deserve to be fucked by me?" He asked hearing her stutter slightly trying to come up with an answer so he tugged her hair back more "hmm?" He spoke "because I'm daddy's good little slut" she spoke to him causing him to let out a low chuckle his hand lightly patting her ass

"you're right you really are a good girl for daddy arent you?" She nodded her head her hands holding onto the head board infront of her so she could keep her balance.

She could feel his cock slam into her tight cunt causing her to gasp out loudly "oh god!" She screeched feeling him grip onto the sides of her pulling her closer while he buried his cock deep inside her harshly but she enjoyed every second of his roughness it actually turned her on.

"You're taking daddy's cock so well princess so fucking well for me" he said to her causing a moan to escape from the back of her throat she loved the praise.

The sound of their wet hips and her loud moans were his top favorite things to hear it was like pure music to his ears.

"Who fucks you the best?" He asked her fucking into her as hard as he could,

"y-you" she croaked out barely even loud enough for him to hear over the sound of their skin slapping together wildly.

"Louder princess scream who fucks you this good" he hissed at her

"YOU DADDY!" She screeched loudly feeling her orgasm so close that it was getting hard to breathe with every thrust inside of her.

"You're such a good girl I want you to cum all over my cock" he cooed to her feeling the hot white flash of their orgasm hit them both so rapidly that he heard her yelp aloud

her hands trembled gripping onto the bed frame her screams so loud they could possibly be heard next door

the squeaking and rattling of her door frame couldn't be heard anymore as Jason pulled his cock out from her watching her flip over on her back "you were so good princess"

"r-really?" She said meekly feeling his thumb skim over her lips "so fucking good" he replied to her watching her smile her face turning a bright shade of red he kissed her cheek.

"Let's get you cleaned up baby"

#stranger things smut #jason carver smut #mason dye

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tetsunabouquet · 7 months

Text

Heir To The Lands Chapter 7

Evidence Masterpost

Livvy felt thrilled, knowing she had finally found the Seelie Court. She kept clear eye of any guards walking around, too paranoid about faeries being able to sense her ghostly presence. She walked ever so slowly, darting behind anything at the slightest of sounds. Slowly, she inched closer to a gate where a guard was flirting with some kind of nixie who was swimming in the glorious, grande fountain of the garden. She thanked the Angel as she slid inside the castle, the marble walls having a faint glow that reminds Livvy of glow in the dark sticks. She didn't knew where she should go, but she figured the Shadowhunter the Seelie Queen was keeping was kept secluded away deep in the castle. Livvy, for the maniest time about now, thought she could kill for a compass rune about now. The maze like place would certainly be less confusing. She slid past walls, crept past hallways and doors. Thankfully she was a ghost, because she certainly would have tripped over the many vines that seemed to lead to some kind of bathroom section as evidenced by the various inhumanly smelling perfumated scents and the thin cloud of steam the direction was leading into. Livvy certainly would have loved to explore this place, alive, and without the fair folk. That bathing place certainly seemed to be an interesting idea, and the flowery decor was quite nice. She could not fault the Seelie Queen's taste, but that might be the only compliment you could give this woman, if the tales about her and the tale of the two goblins were to be believed. Livvy, however, felt something dark and sticky in the atmosphere, which totally ruined the cute vibe the interior was giving her. It was an ominous pressure in the air, that kept Livvy on her intangible toes. She came across a staircase downstairs almost by luck, and she thanked the Angel once more as she slowly floated down, her heart pounding with excitement that she might have found the dungeons. As she reached the groundfloor of the dungeons she had indeed had found, she could vague noises. People, who were talking, She, out of habit, tiptoed across the room and peeped around the corner. There she could see two figures. One goblin with an unusual shade of pink skin was talking animated to a prisoner who she was feeding some Faerie fruit. The man, no boy, really, as he wasn't that old yet, accepted the Faerie feeding him, Livvy's trained eyes could see he didn't distrust the goblin, even though he seemed clearly miserable to be chained up. Livvy was betting this pink goblin to be the sister smitten with the boy. He seemed quite familiar to Livvy, and as she thought hard, she couldn't help but think he looked a bit similar to Perfect Diego. Livvy's eyes widened with alarm, as she realized she was staring at Jaime Rosales.

Emma breathed deeply, the poison had been treated and she was resting. The group, in the meantime was torn in a discussion at what to do. It was clear, the cat was out of the bag. They had found Kit, but that left the following questions. Who had sent the hunters, and what were they planning? "Obviously, the Seelie Queen is the most logical suspect at this point, but we have no evidence against her." Jules stated, anger shimmering in his eyes as he remembered the manipulative woman. "Can't we just start an official investigation against her? Jaime has been missing for nearly a year, " Dru asked, her hands clenching into fists as the ache in heart pounded with worry, the ache that had been there ever since she heard he went missing. "I know, but it's not so easy. Kieran already stated the peace between him and the Queen is quite uneasy, and there are plenty of people in his Court who detest the new bond they have with the Clave. This is an incredibly tense political situation where we cannot act without evidence." Jules looked like he could punch someone. "I think it would be wise for Dru to go back to the Academy. I don't think they have spies there and will notice she went back before she was supposed to. You should inform your Headmaster about what happened. So the Clave is prepared for any escalation." Tessa said, friendly. Dru grumbled, but she nodded. If there would be future attacks on the Clave in Exile's adress, it might just be dangerous with how unstable their society was right now. As a soldier, she knew where she ought to be.

#twp #the wicked powers #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #shadowhunters #shadowhunter chronicles #livvy blackthorn #jaime rosales #jules blackthorn #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #tessa herondale #tessa gray #tessa carstairs #dru blackthorn #the seelie queen #pink goblin

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havendoesthings · 1 year

Text

Reaaaallly far into the future, when Leon and Aine are free to go on Earth, Leon's going to introduce Aine to his family! (/=ww=)/

———————Snippet Ig???———————

"By the way! Meet Aine! They're the pirate that helped me with getting home!" When previously they were busy checking if their frills were in the right order only they knew, now their attention was fully concentrated on the turtle who found its way to their heart.

Minute passed. Then another. Then another few. And then Aine started numbering the seconds that they spend looking at their earthling... Family.

When they said it aloud now it sounded laughable to even think about it. Them? Adopting one of the earth's inhabitants? It was like someone was telling some unfunny joke, and nobody was laughing at it. But look at them now. They kept their promise. They helped this one lonely turtle who had similar problems to them with getting home. And now he was finally reunited with his family.

They felt their tongue inside their sealed mouth getting all sticky with a digestive substance it started to produce in reaction to feeling their increasing stress. They were nervous and there was no one here who could disagree with that. Fighting with their every urge to just turn around and walk away from this little reunion, they tried their best to take a small stabilizing breath.

Now, looking directly at 'rat' — At least that's what Leon told them what his father was, apparently some creature called 'rat' — who was standing in front of them, looking with his judging eyes and calculating their every move. They gulped internally.

"I'm," Slow breaths Aine, he's not going to attack you. It's not like they're cold-blooded and heartless creatures everyone in space believed them to be, right??? "I'm first Captain and commander of the intergalactic ship, 'R.L.S Legacy', Aine," Without thinking further, after a while they added. "It's-It's a pleasure to meet you family of Leonardo."

They could feel on them all the eyes of others looking like Leonardo turtle-like Earth inhabitants.

Aine by nature weren't somebody who was getting anxious really fast, but meeting actual earth aliens? It was the most stressful thing in their entire life, and they're telling that after being through a fucking court trial between them and the most important beings in all known universe. That was something that spoke for itself.

And then, the most unexpected thing happend.

The one that was wearing the orange mask took a step closer to them. The urge to take their own but backward was strong not to accomplish, but at the last second, they decided against it. They need to be strong, for Leonardo and themselves if they wanted to properly meet his family. Orange one which was the smallest out of the other organics called turtles also looked at them from head to toe. When they were finished with that, they just... Took out their hand.

What they were supposed to do now, were they trying to duel them to check if they were worth hanging out with one of them? Were they supposed to decline or accept their offer????

"Just shake his hand, as we do sometimes-!" The not-so-whisper Leonardo used to communicate with them was the only thing needed for Orange's one realization to hit them.

They smiled only more widely — Surprisingly not in a threatening way! — And decided to answer them on their own.

"I'm Mikey, Leo's brother!" The energy in this one was something reaching Leonardo's levels of it. The difference was, Aine could clearly feel they weren't such a little shit about that like their earthling. "I'm so happy you helped my brother when he was in need, thank you so much!"

"A-Ah-" How were they supposed to answer that? They were expecting a bloody fight, not some small talk!!

"Tell them your pronouns Mikey, they have some sick gender perceptions of it in space man!" Oh, thank every ancients above they've got at least some damn support from their nuisance.

"Oh, okay! I use he, him, what should I use for you then!"

Momentarily they relaxed. Their body wasn't so stiff anymore, and they could feel growing swiftly swirling inside the lower parts of their body, which meant they were ready to produce the sounds of quiet happiness.

Now, without hesitance, they on their own smiled slightly and closed their eyes so mentioned smile could be better portrayed. Reaching their own hands to this one of Mikey's, they finally took it.

"We go by they, them, it's such an honor to meet you everyone, Leo when we were on our way back talked about you nonstop"

They were now shaking their hands slowly, and they were finally feeling welcomed here.

#leonardo teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leonardo #rise of the tmnt #rise of the turtles #rise mikey #rottmnt oc #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt michelangelo #Space Pirate Leon AU

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vaguely-concerned · 2 years

Note

Canwe get a sneak peak at the tf getting railed fic?

oh go on, twist my arm then hahaha. necessary context: graves is on hands and knees over tf lying down on the bed and isn’t allowed to move until he’s told to, for bet and also light affectionate d/s undertone reasons. tf POV. also nswf ahead, obviously, though this is more a fun bantery part of it lol

Without moving [the metal dildo] away from his mouth I say: “Do you want a turn with this? In your mouth,” I clarify. “We can try it for other stuff some other time. I’ve got… ideas in that direction. Plans, even.”

He grins crookedly against the metal. “Most beautiful and ominous sound in the world, you sayin’ those precise words in that tone.”

“I live to serve,” I lie humbly, scratching the fingernails of my free hand lightly through his chest hair.

“Really? First I’ve ever heard of it.” Despite the snark he purses his lips to kiss the metal with more purpose, all his attention on me.

“It’s going inside me soon,” I murmur, more transfixed by the sight than I would prefer to admit. “I like the thought of it havin’ been in your mouth first. Almost like you takin’ me a bit already. Besides,” I add, with exaggerated wide appealing eyes and a pout, “it’s so cold, Malcolm. You can’t expect me to just slide it in there like this. Help warm it up for me?”

“Damn, you’re a loss to the stage, Fate, I’ve always said it.”

“You’re throwin’ alternate careers at me like it’s candy today,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes for good measure. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryin’ to tell me something.”

“Nah, if you start down that road I’d have to change careers with you, and I ain’t got the cerebral flexibility (enough paint to pretend to change my spots? haven’t decided on one for now lol) for that at my time of life. Bring it here, then, I’ll get it ready for your royally sensitive behind, yer lordship.”

“Now there’s a court position I’d love to see ‘em come up with a fancy title for,” I snicker, groping his pecs some more as I amuse myself with that thought, because I am nothin’ if not an opportunist.

He grunts like a man who’s seen the world and found it holds some things that frankly creep him out, pushing into my hand like a horse eager to have its flank petted. “Oh, you just know they’ve got some weird shit like that in Demacia or wherever.”

“Yeah, probably. Look at me, being treated like a king. I’m going up in the world.”

“A royal pain, certainly. Just so long as you don’t go gettin’ any weird ideas about ‘groom of the stool’ or anythin’ messed up like —”

I grimace and poke him in the midriff with my toe, because I’m unwilling to let go of the emotional support of his ample bosoms in this trying time. “Ewwww. Not thinkin’ about that right now, thank you.”

He beams affectionately at me over the dildo. “See, this is how I’ll always know the truth, no matter how many times I watch you pull the ‘Shuriman Prince’ con. You ain’t nearly inbred or fucked in the head enough for that kinda shit to make sense to you, even if you do have a closet full of fancy waistcoats and pretensions.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Monarchy’s one of the greatest cons you could ever pull,” I say wistfully. “It’s kinda like money that way. Only exists because for some godsforsaken reason everyone agrees it does, and once you’ve planted the idea it just keeps itself goin’ for thousands of years like that, without you needin’ to do much of anything.”

With the air of a scholar picking away at a tricky line of theory, he says: “Well yeah, but it’s a risky business, setting in motion a con that’s so much bigger’n yourself. You think you’re on top of it and suddenly you got, y’know, grisly emissaries and economic inflatables and primogenitures and everythin’, comin’ out of the walls at ya. It ain’t so much gamblin’ as throwin’ a grenade into a fireworks factory while still inside just to see how it goes. Or stealin’ coin given to the Bearded Lady. Askin’ for trouble, either way.”

Only prolonged exposure to Malcolm’s particular patchwork of whimsical quayside idiolect allows me to work my way through most of that one. “Grisly… ah. You mean ‘éminence grise’.”

“Bless you, Tobias. I don’t speak Freljordian.”

“It ain’t Freljordian, it’s — oh, nevermind. I get the larger point, and it’s an unexpectedly profound one. Considering where it came from.”

“Nevermind where it came from, it will end up shoved up your ass if you keep that tone up,” he says pleasantly.

“It’ll be crowded in there soon enough, then. I should start charging rent.”

He shrugs. “Knowin’ your place in the world is one of those things that’ll serve you better’n any weapon, or even all the gold in the world. Is all I’m sayin’.”

I grin at him. “Sounds uncharacteristically unambitious, coming from you. You feelin’ okay?”

“Nah, it ain’t like the ‘know your place, peasant’ crap rich people’ll spout, ‘s more like… I’ll steal pretty much anything once, and probably twice, whether anyone wants me to or not. We all know this. But a crown? Nah, I ain’t that much of a fool. And neither are you, thankfully, I’d make for a pretty unconventional queen consort for the portrait painters to handle.”

While I do get a lot of my entertainment day to day from fondly mocking him — and who could blame me, I doubt you could find a target more deserving of both the mockery and the fondness if you went over the whole world with a fine-toothed comb — I do find more fascination and comfort than I’ll ever admit to his face in the oddly incisive conciseness of the Gravesian worldview as well. A man of bottom lines, on multiple levels. “Truly, a touching testament to your faith in me. Thank you.”

“Anytime, T.F.”

I thoughtfully pet his chest. “I am havin’ a lot of thoughts about you in a dress and diadem now, though.”

“Ask me real nicely sometime, and we’ll see. C’mon, then, ‘nuf dithering, let’s have it.”

---

(and then a bit later, because it made me happy when I wrote it:)

“You okay?” Graves asks hoarsely, when I haven’t said anything in a little while.

I let my eyes slide half-open to look at him, almost drowsy with it. “Very.”

“Is it still warm?” He’s ducking his head and going slightly cross eyed to try to see what’s happening down between my legs. It looks incredibly silly. I would die for this man.

“Mmmmhm. Thank you for all of your hard work,” I grin.

#tf x graves #tfgraves #league of legends #my writing #is there anything in the world that gives me more joy than writing graves malapropisms. no is the answer to that #also yes this fic IS mostly 20K+ of tf joyfully being a little shit and graves being way too into it haha #if this is your first introduction to the concept of 'groom of the stool'... I'm sorry but also it's not my fault royalty is Like That

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ellispup91 · 2 years

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Day 19: Turn a Blind Eye

Khri sits on the edge of the small yet cosy bed—tail long and sleek sweeping out of the way as she plops down. The parchment in her hand crinkles and she brings it up. She doesn’t need to read it again. She knows what the short, not-quite cursive script says, has read it three times already. A summons from her father—adoptive father, though that fact has never bothered her.

‘I’ve found him.’ It said. Him. The rot-legged roach that had led the mutiny against him—slaughtered their crew, their family, and left her to believe for over a year that her father was dead. Another lost to the sea.

I have to go. She has to. Her father has been seeking the man for years now—for revenge. She can’t let him go alone. She needs to be there, to keep him safe. She needs the spirits of those who had been a family to her to be at peace—and how can they be at peace when their murderer still sails free on the ship they had called home?

But…

Her friends. The Scions. Ell. They need her too. The battles looming on the horizon aren’t small things—they are dangerous. If she goes, she’ll be leaving them down a healer.

She can’t not go.

And if she dared to ask them to go with her…

Rumours whispered that the Imperials were engineering new ultima weapons. The Bozjan Resistance was reaching out for aid. There is already too much on her dear friend’s—her brother’s shoulders. Can she really add to that weight? Put their revenge above the lives of those being threatened by these challenges and ask Ellismus to pay that price?

No.

She can’t do that—and she can’t stand beside them. Not this time. She stands, going to the small desk pushed up against the other wall and digging out a clean piece of paper. She can’t say goodbye. They’ll only try to stop her.

A note will have to be enough.

Blood red eyes watch as the dark-furred Seeker-Keeper hybrid shoves things into her pack. Ellismus rests a hand against the doorframe, brows knitting.

“...Khri?” He calls softly, watching as she pauses but does not turn. Her tail hangs limply. “What’re y’ doin’?”

A twitch. She continues, just a little rougher as she shoves a familiar leather-bound journal into the bag as well.

“I’m leavin’.” Surely, he thinks, he must have misheard.

“Leaving? What—”

“I got a message from m’ dad.”

“From Halcon?” Back turned to him still, she nods. Her ears rest flat.

“He found him—he finally found th’ guy who led tha’ Twelve-fucked mutiny.” Her tail lashes once. “He’s headin’ out t’morrow, so I hafta go t’night.”

…What can he say? The man—his friend’s father, the man courting his mother—had some of the worst timing? That they were planning to head out to the Bozjan war front in only a few days? Violet eyes glance back over her shoulder. Whatever she sees in his face, Khri huffs.

“Don’t try an’ stop me. M’goin’ no matter what ye say—someone hasta make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“...Yeah.” He clears his throat, scuffs the floor with his toe. “Mum seems pretty attached now—think she’d appreciate if someone kept him from bein’ stupid.” They’re not the words he wants to say.

Khri’s shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna do m’ best. Just… Say goodbye t’ the others for me? Okay?” She doesn’t wait for a response, strapping her star globe to her back.

…He could do that. Let her go—let her walk out and turn his attention back to the challenges looming ahead of him. He can tell she expects him to.

But…

These aren’t just any lives he’d be turning his back on. Khri, Halcon—they’re family.

I won’t fail my family. Not again.

As she lifts her pack, Ellismus steps up silently behind her. His hand rests upon her arm—she shakes him off.

“Ell, please, don’t—”

“No.” His voice is firm, jaw set. “Tell me what in th’ hells I’m packin’, cause if yer goin’ then—fuck it—so am I.” She blinks at him owlishly and he softens. Just a little. “Y’ didn’t really think I was just gonna let y’ go, did y’? Without me?”

“Ell… Ye can’t. There are people dependin’ on ye—”

“None who’re more important than you right now.”

It’s not something the Warrior of Light—Hydaelyn’s Champion—should say. But he’s just a man. There are things his heart cannot take. And letting her walk out to face her demons with no more than two bodies and a boat? That he can’t carry.

“Let th’ others handle th’ shit fer a bit—they can manage without me fer a couple sennights.” He grabs her arm again and this time she allows it. “Yer my family, Khri. Yer my sister… I’m coming with you.”

He waits for her to argue—and instead dark tan arms fly around his neck, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

“...Kay.” She whispers.

“You two don’t think you’re leaving us out, do you?”

The Miqo’te pull apart. In the doorway Elja and Aska stand, twin grins spread across their faces.

“How—”

“Yeah, our room is literally right there.” The shorter of the two Viera, Elja, gestures towards the wall past Khri’s bed. “We can hear… everything that goes on in here.”

“So count us in, too.” Aska glomps onto the two, his lover joining them in an enthusiastic group hug.

There’ll be some grumbling from their companions, of course there will. Alisae will surely be the first to get in their faces, demanding to know what they were thinking pulling a disappearing act like that now.

And when that happens, Ellismus will simply shrug and offer a crooked grin and say, “I had some family business t’ take care of.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #warrior of light #ffxiv wol #miqo'te #original character #friends #family

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your-good-pal-chevy · 8 months

Text

Swordtember : 6 : Viper

A state dinner in the Imperial Capital was, simply put, quite the affair. In those times, before the fall of the city, it was common for the Imperator and the Senate to put on a feast and invite all the well-to-do persons in the city to come and enjoy themselves. It was as much pageantry as it was political; Even during a siege, appearances had to be upheld. The crown could not admit that there was any danger.

Flavius Rogelius Phanes had little patience for such affairs. He despised the sickening way the aristocracy jockeyed for power and influence, he loathed being forced to attend in spite of his disdain.

He was the Last Dragon! The only man to tame and ride an Imperial Drake in a hundred years! He was insulted to even receive the invitation when there were barbarians at the gates, and yet, he had no choice in the matter. It was the Imperator's will that he attend and make himself seen. With any luck, he figured he would be able to be noticed relatively quickly and escape the festivities before anyone tried to ask his opinion on anything.

No such luck.

Another champion of the Empire, the lowborn Dorus Nigellus, clapped a hand on Flavius' shoulder nearly the moment he arrived. The other hand, of course, was held in its elaborately decorated sling.

Dorus was well known in the imperial court, having ventured far and wide at the behest of his sponsor in the senate. He studied warfare in every civilized nation, immersed himself in countless duels and battles as a mercenary, all to distill the very essence of bloodshed into himself.

Despite this, he was frankly a quite unassuming man. Shorter than most, his body was lithe and slender. He did not look like a man who could kill a rat, let alone go toe to toe with the greatest swordsmen in the world. His hair was short and well groomed, and he wore a thin mustache and small goatee. He dressed like a merchant, wearing elaborately embroidered clothes. Even the sling he kept his right hand in at all times was made of rich fabric, embroidered with a pattern of snakes.

Among the guests at the feast, he alone had been permitted to bring a sword. It had a hilt that coiled like a golden viper around the guard, its two onyx eyes gleaming in the candlelight. Despite its beauty, it remained a weapon of killing, and the sword had been thoroughly wrapped up in plain leather cord to keep it from being drawn.

"Phanes, my friend," came the poison from Dorus' lips, "So good to see you. It's so rare to catch you at one of these parties. We really ought to catch up."

"No," Flavius began, "I think I'd really rather just-"

"Nonsense!" Despite having only one hand on Flavius' shoulder, Dorus pulled him along with ease, sitting him down at a table with some socialites and low level politicians with whom Dorus was acquainted. "Friends, please, give a gracious welcome to my friend Flavius Rogelius Phanes. You've heard of him already, I'm sure!"

Dorus sat down across from Flavius, a wicked grin on his face. Flavius merely scowled, hardly bothering to shake the hands of Dorus' toadies. "Now then, Phanes, I've got a few things I was hoping to talk with you about. Perhaps you could shed your vaunted insight on a topic or two?"

Flavius sighed. He wasn't getting out of this one, it seemed. "Very well." He made a dismissive gesture. "Ask whatever questions you have and, if it is within my power, I shall answer them. But I won't stay long."

Dorus clapped his free hand against his knee, smiling wider. "Very good, Phanes, very good! Now, just a moment ago, I was talking with these fine people about the situation in the north. As a representative of the esteemed legions of our glorious empire, perhaps you could explain something. How is it that we have barbarians at the gate of our great nation's capital? What news comes from the northern armies?"

Flavius' eyebrow twitched. It was less of a question and more of a barb. Dorus' intent was clear, he wanted a member of the military to admit that the legions had failed in the north. That cities burned in the wake of the host now camped outside their gates.

"The situation is dire," Flavius began, his tone measured. "We have suffered extreme losses in the north. Talua, Atadoccia, Saron; great cities have been lost to the marauders. Our legions in the north were lost after the senate refused to permit me to lead a force to support them."

And it was true. The Phanes family had many enemies in the senate, many corrupt fools who cared more about maintaining political power than maintaining the empire itself. When Flavius had proposed taking the Imperial Guard from its station in the capital to reinforce the north, he had all but been laughed at for the gall.

And then, just as he had predicted, the north burned. Rampaging barbarians looted those ancient cities with impunity. It was disgusting.

"I see, I see," Dorus said, nodding sagely. He patted the hand in the sling, a strangely mournful expression on his face. "Would that you had been permitted, esteemed Phanes, perhaps I might have joined you on such an excursion. Perhaps we might have kept the north from falling to the tide."

Flavius shrugged, his arms folded across his chest. "It matters little at this point. The past has happened and the future has yet to come. We are not dead yet, and so I shall continue to serve the empire. The walls will hold."

A slave leaned in, offering a small plate with a pastry and fork to Dorus. "Thank you," he said, taking the plate and balancing it carefully on his leg. "Do stick around for a moment, I'll have need of you shortly."

Dorus brought a bit of pastry up to his mouth before he continued, clearly savoring its sweetness. Flavius rolled his eyes, unimpressed by his display of indulgence.

"Mm, anyway," Dorus began as one of the women in the group dabbed at the side of his mouth with a handkerchief, "Simply put, the situation seems dire. I didn't bring you here just to lambast you, my friend. No, dear Flavius Rogelius Phanes, I believe I know the solution to our woes."

"And what would that be?"

"Well, it's quite obvious." Dorus took another bite of the pastry, his expression turning dark as he locked eyes with Flavius. "You have been hamstrung by bureaucracy. I myself have little to no real political power. As our country burns, it is becoming increasingly obvious that the people in power have little desire to truly fix this problem."

An eyebrow quirked on Flavius' face, in spite of his efforts to keep his expression neutral.

"It's really quite simple. You want to keep the country safe. I wish to keep indulging in little luxuries like this." Dorus gestured at the pastry with his fork. "Neither of us will accomplish that if barbarians knock down the walls and kill us all."

"So?" Flavius regained control of his expression, returning it to his usual brooding scowl. "What exactly do you propose we do about it?"

"I did say it would be simple," Dorus said. Slowly, methodically, he withdrew his right arm from the sling he wore at all times. The hand inside it was black as pitch, thickly tattooed in intricate patterns of coiling scales and bones. With a gentle motion, he passed the fork from his left hand to his right. "There are those among us, even here today, who stand in the way of progress. Who stand between us and the salvation of the empire."

Dorus the Black Hand gave but a flick of his wrist, and the fork was gone from his right hand. Flavius could barely follow its trajectory, but the fork had suddenly sprouted from the neck of the slave that Dorus had bade to remain. The slave, unaware of what had just occurred, numbly grasped at his throat before falling to the ground.

There wasn't even a spray of blood to indicate that a killing had just taken place. Only the soft gurgles of a dying man, which barely seemed to raise any eyebrows from the crowd.

Flavius stood abruptly, fists balled at his sides as Dorus slid his killing hand back into its sling. He knew the story, of how Dorus was forbidden by oaths and philosophy to use his right hand for anything but death. To see it in action, to see him take a life so casually, even if it was merely a slave... It shook him.

"We kill them, Flavius." Dorus made a vague gesture with his left hand. "Or, well, I kill them. Most likely you do very little, save pick up the pieces when I'm done. You give me names, and I'll remove the greatest opponents to your military. Then, you go out and you destroy the barbarians and we all get to live in luxury until we die, and then our children will all have to do it all over again. Probably."

A pair of slaves, visibly shaken, arrived to carry off the body of their fellow. Flavius watched them, something close to pity in his heart, and he considered Dorus' words. "You certainly don't care to hide your intentions, do you?"

"There is nothing more honest than death, my friend." Dorus' venomous smile had returned, and he was idly toying with the cord tying his sword into its scabbard.

"Give me some time, then. Let me think upon your... Honesty."

Flavius was disgusted by Dorus, to be sure. Dorus represented so many of the very worst qualities of the empire. He was vicious, he cared nothing for life, he cared only for his own comfort and luxury.

And yet, the Last Dragon could not help but wonder if the Black Hand was the very thing that he would need to save the empire from destruction.

#swordtember #creative writing #writers on tumblr #cw blood mention #cw death #cw murder #cw slavery #cw violence #these are the bad guys btw #two members of the quirky miniboss squad that the barbarian hero has to kill later on

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the-blind-one-speaks · 1 year

Text

The Life of a Pippin

Whatever Pippin had been expecting — to be chained up in the dungeons, or led outside to the gallows to hang, or for the Lieutenant to run him through in the courtyard — being led to the servant’s dining hall wasn’t it. He stared about with bewildered eyes, some of the tension dropping as he traded his proud bearing for one of anxious confusion. He cast a hesitant glance at the soldier holding him, trying to get a glimpse of his purpose. The Lieutenant stared straight ahead grimly, his grip hard enough to bruise. Pippin wasn’t going to fight him, though. They knew about his mother and his uncle, now. He couldn’t get his family into trouble.

He scuffed the toe of his shoe across the cobblestone floor. Well, any more than he’d already gotten them into. He just had to hope that punishing him was enough to satisfy the court.

He gulped as the Lieutenant steered him across the crowded, bustling room to a long table by the back. It was occupied entirely by soldiers — guards that patrolled in servant’s uniforms, sweeping the hidden serving corridors and ensuring that everything was as it should be. Pippin only knew who they were when they saluted crisply at the Lieutenant’s approach. There’d been whispers of a secret unit in the castle.

Well, if he survived this, Pippin could now impress the girls with proof that it was true. If one grocer boy’s word could count as proof.

The Lieutenant forced him into the nearest empty seat at the long table. Instantly, he was the subject of many measuring glares. Hard suspicion greeted him on all sides. The man directly to his left wore the inconspicuous garb of a cleaning servant. He also had hands corded with thick muscle and knuckles far too scarred to have only been wielding a cleaning rag. He clapped one of those heavy hands onto the back of the boy’s neck as soon as the Lieutenant released him.

Pippin squirmed beneath the grip. His eyes darted from one unfriendly face to the next. “Ey, leggo — there’s no need fer this, I ain’t gonna try nothin’!” He licked his lips, his voice coming out far less indignant and too shrill. He hunched his shoulders, finally accepting the pressure. Avoiding the hostile eyes fixed on him, he stared at the table’s scarred surface. “I… I ain’t gonna try nothin’, sir.”

The Lieutenant grunted. “That’s better. Finally remembering your manners, are you?”

Pippin bit his lip. His back prickled with sweat. He should have been more conscientious in the courtroom. He’d half expected to be gutted on the spot, and he’d wanted to go out fighting, but…. It was stupid. He should have been more cooperative. Maybe then he wouldn’t have punched the Queen. Maybe then he wouldn’t have ended up being passed to the guards. He was fairly certain he’d just been sentenced to death by designation as a punching bag. Maybe they’d use him as target practice. He shuddered.

The Lieutenant slid into the seat on the other side of the man gripping Pippin’s neck. He grunted as his armor clinked. Resting his forearms on the table, he leaned forward and tapped the wood. “Ale, and then I’ll give you your assignments. And something for the boy.”

Pippin’s eyes widened. He glanced up quickly, then returned his eyes to the table. He’d been trying to hold himself back from licking the crumbs off the scarred wooden surface ever since he’d noticed them. His stomach tightened. Was he going to get to eat?

One of the men, dressed as a butler, slid a tankard across to the Lieutenant. After taking a long pull, the man sighed. Pippin’s heart thudded against his rib cage.

“So, first things first.” He gestured at Pippin with his gloved hand, the tear prominent where his pale skin flashed through dark leather. “The little bastard bites.”

“Want me to get a muzzle?” One of the women leaned forward, her eyes hard. Pippin blanched. She folded her arms over her maid’s apron. “I think we’ve got one about his size.”

Pippin opened his mouth to protest. The man gripping the back of his neck shook him roughly. He winced and snapped his mouth shut, staring at the table with increasing concentration. He was sweating freely, now.

“I think I can handle him,” the man said with dark amusement. Pippin shivered. The man’s fingers tightened. He flinched, his shoulders jumping up to meet his ears. Skin crawling, he screwed his eyes tightly shut and bit down on his lip. After a moment, the man’s grip relaxed. “He won’t be any trouble at all.”

“No, sir,” Pippin breathed. It was so quiet he wasn’t sure if anyone heard. If they had, nobody reacted. Pippin tried to hide his shaking hands in his lap. Staring meekly at the table, he tried to ignore the churning of his stomach. As the conversation continued on, his mind kept circling back to the Lieutenant’s order. Something for the boy certainly wasn’t an order to bring him food. He hadn’t earned any kindness from these people. He clenched his jaw tightly, locking his knees so his legs wouldn’t bounce and possibly annoy his captors. What would they bring for him? Shackles? A whip? A cane? He’d attacked their monarch, accidental as it was. They all hated him.

“Kid.” His eyes snapped up. Every eye was on him. He swallowed back a sob, trying to ignore the prickle of oncoming tears as they stung the back of his eyes. The man gripping the back of his neck tapped a single finger against his clammy skin. “You’re shaking.”

He was. His entire body was quaking, every muscle shuddering out of control. He groaned as he tried to stop and found that he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, sir.” Of course his voice was shaking, too. The tears welled damningly on his lower eyelids. He bit his lip. “I — I can’t stop, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

The table stared at him silently. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying desperately not to cry. Who knew how berserk they’d go if they saw tears.

The Lieutenant heaved another sigh. “Where’s — ah, thank you, Anders.” Pippin shut his eyes, ducking his head as far as he dared. Whatever Anders had brought, he didn’t want to see it. He just wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. But did he really want to be on the ground and surrounded by all these people’s boots? No, he decided. He did not.

There was the sound of something sliding across the table. He flinched when the scrape stopped in front of him. The grip on the back of his neck shook him, not as roughly as it had before. “Eat that, and don’t forget to thank Anders for going out of his way to fetch it for ya.”

Pippin cracked his eyes open with a ragged breath. He couldn’t stop the tear that plopped down his cheek, but he did stare in open amazement as it landed in a bowl of porridge. It was steaming faintly, and he could see the pale swirls where milk had been stirred in. He glanced up, eyes darting around the table.

“This-“ He swallowed, mouth watering. “This’s for me?”

The Lieutenant snorted. He lifted the tankard to his lips and took another pull. “It’s what you’re getting. Eat up, prisoner.”

“Thank you, sir.” The man paused at the reverence in the boy’s tone. He took a hard look at the boy’s face. Pippin was staring with wide eyes at the bowl like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The Lieutenant set down his ale.

When the boy began to eat, he savored the first bite with a hazy-eyed look of wonder. Within minutes, the bowl had been scraped clean. The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes, noting for the first time the thinness of the boy’s wiry shoulders.

Pippin looked up after he’d set the bowl back on the table, his expression filled with sheepish gratitude. “Thank you, Anders, sir.” He licked his lips.

The table had fallen silent as they’d watched him eat. The Lieutenant studied the boy’s ragged clothing, his malnourishment that could be attributed to natural slenderness. Now that he was considering him, he was more ragged than the average citizen. He’d already discovered the boy was employed. It was a humble occupation, but not one that would leave him starving. He crooked a finger at the boy.

“You, there.” Pippin’s eyes immediately snapped up to meet his, a shadow of fear falling across them. The Lieutenant eyed him. “How often do you eat?”

Pippin swallowed. He looked at the bowl, then darted his gaze back to the Lieutenant like he thought he’d be punished for looking. “Every three days, sir.”

There was a muttered hush that raced around the table. Pippin cringed, ducking his head. “I — I’ll thank ye every time ye feed me, sir, I won’t cause no trouble. I can go longer —“ He licked his lips, darting another longing glance at the empty bowl with something like regret in his eyes. “I kin go longer wi’out, sirs, I kin an’ wi’out complainin’ none.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the Lieutenant said slowly. He lifted the tankard to his lips but did not drink. “Why do you wait to eat? You make enough to spend more.”

“Been sendin’ it all to me mum, sir. I kin do me share o’ work wi’out much eatin’. It ain’t hard labor.” He looked up, suddenly afraid. “Though I kin do me best to do ‘ard labor for ye, sir, if’n that’s what ye want.”

“Mmm.” The Lieutenant drained the last of his drink. He stood, nodding to the man holding Pippin. “You’ll be fine with this, Grindle?”

The man grinned. He shifted his hand off Pippin’s neck and into his wild curls. Pippin winced. He ruffled his hair playfully, laughing. “I think we’ll get along just fine, sir.”

“The rest of you have your duties. I’ll see you this evening for your reports. Grindle, if he tries anything, you let me know. I expect you on your best behavior, Fairwaithe, you hear me?”

The boy nodded rapidly, his face pale. His eyes shot around the table, then fastened back on the stern face of the Lieutenant. He was much calmer and seemed more docile after his meal. The Lieutenant wasn’t sure how long that would last when the looming threat of so many soldiers had faded, but he trusted Grindle to knock him back into shape if he stepped out of line. He nodded sharply. The unit got up and dispersed. When Grindle stood, Pippin grabbed his bowl and shot to his feet, casting furtive glances about.

Grindle rapped him on the head. “Leave that where ya got it from, boy. No need to steal from the kitchen.”

The boy’s face flushed. “I wasn’t stealin’!” As Grindle’s face darkened, he paled. “S-sir, Ah thought I’d be wanted ta wash et, sir, should I-?” He flinched as Grindle stared down at him. “Should I — jest… put et back, sir?” His voice trailed off. He slid the bowl back onto the table, ducking his head. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean ta steal nothin’ an’ talk back none, sir.” He mumbled, shoulders hunched as though expecting a blow.

Grindle rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Well, you minded me in time, so come on then. I’ve got work to do. You just stay in sight and outta the way and we’ll get along fine. Got that?”

“Yessir.” The reply was so fast Grindle raised an eyebrow. The boy took it as a lack of confidence. He swallowed. “Ah’m ta stay outta the way an’ in yer sight, sir.”

Grindle nodded. “That’s right. This way, then.” He led him through the hall and into one of the serving halls. Pippin had to trot to keep up. Grindle’s hand never left his shoulder. As the burly guard dusted the chandelier in the ballroom, Pippin stood in the corner and gawked. His eyes were taking in everything, but Grindle, long used to assessing visitors to the palace, knew he wasn’t looking at things with the eyes of a man casing a joint. Grindle kept a sharp watch on him from the corner of his eye, but the boy stood without moving from the spot he’d put him in.

As Grindle moved to the next chandelier, Pippin slid to the ground, sitting on the cool floor. His eyes drooped shut. By the time Grindle had finished his tasks, the boy was curled up sleeping on the hardwood floor.

Pippin awoke alone. He jerked upright, rubbing his eyes. “Grindle? Sir?” His voice echoed in the empty ballroom. He cast a wild glance about the room, eyes darting to see if he could find the man. The ladder Grindle had been using to reach the chandeliers was gone, as was his keeper. Pippin glanced out the windows. Dusk was falling, red and gentle, over the palace grounds.

He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “S-sir?” The last he remembered, early morning sunlight had been streaming into the ballroom and Grindle had been dusting the chandelier at the end of the hall. He scrambled to his feet. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He hadn’t been listening to the Lieutenant when he’d told Grindle his tasks. He had no idea where to find the man. And to be caught wandering the palace without a guard….

He shivered.

“S-sir?” The call echoed, bouncing off the arched ceilings of the empty hall. Pippin wrapped his arms around himself, cursing silently. Some part of him had hoped, now that the Queen herself had heard what was happening, that they’d take his story more seriously if he behaved. He’d been trying to remember his manners since hitting the queen. Despite all he’d expected, he really didn’t want to die just yet. Especially while his family was still counting on him.

He sank to the floor, plotting rapidly. Someone would find him sooner or later. He knew Grindle’s name, and he could always plead to be taken to the Lieutenant. If they didn’t realize he was the boy who’d hurt the Queen, he still might survive this.

He might be killed on the spot if they didn’t believe him. And if the Lieutenant blamed him for falling asleep, he could end up in the dungeons after all. He shuddered. There would be no porridge with milk in the dungeons, he bet.

He leaned back against the wall. Staring out the window, he waited to be found.

The Lieutenant stormed in, Grindle hot on his heels. “He was out like a light, I knew he wouldn’t move!”

Pippin scrambled to his feet, heart racing. He shrank back into the corner as the two men strode rapidly towards him. Grindle seemed annoyed but relaxed. The Lieutenant had the same icy look in his eyes that Pippin had seen when he’d been pinned against the stone column. His knees gave out. He hit the floor and cowered.

“M’sorry, sir, dinnt mean to fall asl’p, sorry sir I’m so sorry please sir don’t kill me m’sorry!” He couldn’t hold back a sob. He covered his head with his hands as the Lieutenant’s steel-shod boots stormed closer. Taking a deep breath, he held it, flinching in dreadful anticipation. The floor here was so clean. Were they gonna make him mop it up if he got his blood all over the place?

“Stand up.” Pippin bit his lip and forced himself to his feet, trembling. The Lieutenant gathered the collar of his shirt in one fist and stared him down. Pippin tried to keep his feet, but his knees gave way again. He sagged in the Lieutenant’s grip, crying openly.

“M’sorry sir, won’t happen again, please sir mercy —“

“Where have you been today?” The Lieutenant’s voice cut through his panic. He gulped back the string of apologies on his tongue.

“R-right here sir, dinnt move from this spot, on me oath I dinnt, sir!” His voice was high, quivering with panic.

The Lieutenant studied him coldly. “If I remember correctly,” he said softly, “that’s the phrase you used after striking the queen.”

Pippin’s face lost all color. He croaked out an attempt at a response, but he’d lost his voice. He was shaking like a leaf, only held upright by the Lieutenant’s strength. The Lieutenant lowered him thoughtfully, his hand still resting on the pommel of his sword. Pippin slumped into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Grindle was staring at the boy guiltily. The Lieutenant glanced at him. “You are dismissed, Grindle. I will be taking charge of the prisoner from now on. We will discuss this lapse in discipline later.”

“Yes, sir.” He saluted crisply. As his footsteps faded away, Pippin curled further in on himself. A muttered string of pleas punctuated by sobs seemed to be the only noise he could make.

The Lieutenant hauled him upright. “Come on, boy. You’ll be joining me for dinner tonight. The Queen will decide your fate. Until then, you’ll live. You’re not dying tonight.”

The pleas dissolved into stuttered gratitude. The Lieutenant ignored him as he dragged him down the halls to his office. He nodded sternly to those curious enough to meet his gaze, offering no explanation for the sobbing boy stumbling at his heels. When they reached his chambers, he closed the door behind them with a sigh. A light push sent Pippin stumbling into the nearest chair. The boy fell into the seat and huddled there, swallowing his sobs. He gulped in great gasps of air, hiding behind his drawn-up knees. His eyes watched the Lieutenant’s boots as he moved about the room, not daring to look any higher.

“You don’t put up nearly as much fight anymore,” the man’s voice rumbled. He was moving about the room, shuffling the papers on his desk. He sat down with a stifled grunt. Pippin was beginning to recognize it as a sound of pain. “Hardly what I expected from the spitfire that ruined my hunting glove.”

“M’sorry, sir,” Pippin managed to choke out. He hunched his shoulders higher, staring fixedly at the desk rather than meeting the gaze of the man behind it. “Was stupid of me, sir, I won’t be no trouble no more.”

“Mmmm.” The Lieutenant did not sound convinced. Pippin flinched. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, heart pounding.

“You can relax, boy.” The man’s voice was soft, weary. Pippin darted a glance at his face. The Lieutenant had his eyes closed, one hand massaging the bridge of his nose. He was definitely in pain. “I fault Grindle for what happened today. You’re in no trouble.” He huffed a soft laugh. “Well, no more than you already were.”

“Yessir.” The boy’s whisper made him open his eyes. He looked at the small form huddled in his chair for a moment before opening a desk drawer. Rummaging around in it, he pulled out a polished wooden figurine. “Here,” he said. “Catch.”

The boy fumbled it when he tossed it over, but managed to grab onto it with his bony fingers. He held it in cupped palms, staring at it for a second, before returning his gaze to the Lieutenant. The bewildered look in his eyes voiced the question that he did not speak.

“I’ve work to do,” the Lieutenant said gruffly. “Amuse yourself with that for a while.” He deliberately leaned forward in his seat and began poring through the papers on the top of the nearest stack. The boy looked down at the little wooden toy he held. His eyebrows drew together in a bemused scowl, no doubt protesting that he was not a child any longer, but he made no comment.

When the Lieutenant glanced up again a few moments later, Pippin was tracing the swirling wood grain in mindless circles over the little horse’s back.

Satisfied, the Lieutenant allowed himself to become engrossed in his work. When the door opened and his attendant brought in dinner, he glanced up to see that Pippin had fallen asleep again, clutching the toy in a white-knuckled grip, his knees still drawn to his chest. The servant placed the tray on the soldier’s desk and left without a word, understanding his preference to work uninterrupted, in silence. The man considered the boy, noting how his thin face was drawn and pale, even while resting. He turned his gaze back to the reports, but his mind was caught on the child’s reports of things up North.

If what Pippin had claimed was true, things could be shaping into a rebellion, and from within the kingdom’s own forces, at that. The Queen had ordered the camps disbanded. To maintain them would take quite a bit of manpower. This was no miscommunication.

He woke the boy with the quiet order to eat when he noticed the child whimpering with a nightmare. Pippin swiped his cheeks free of tears and devoured the simple fare. He thanked the soldier with a gratitude and reverence that made the Lieutenant uneasy. He could not forget the youngster’s blow against his Queen, but he knew it had been meant for him. The longer that Pippin was his prisoner, the more that he was inclined to believe him, which meant things within the kingdom had gone horrifically wrong. He chewed his meal in thoughtful silence, pondering the boy. Pippin Fairwaithe, all too aware of his gaze, huddled behind his knees and played with a child’s toy.

Watching him run the little horse up and down his own legs made the soldier wonder how long it had been since the lad was able to act his age. The war had forced too many to grow up before their time. If he could find the youngest Fairwaithes, the Lieutenant resolved to do everything in his power to prevent the same from happening to them — and to any child living in the North where apparently, the war had not yet ended.

Jordan Passerville could not understand how his nephew had managed to so thouroughly ruin his life so fast. The boy was anxious and hotheaded, a stunning combination that led to catastrophe all too often. From getting his behind handed to him by the local boys to driving off a loyal customer simply because she had remarked on his “lowbrow dialect,” the boy had already caused no end of trouble for the quiet storekeeper. Still, when he hadn’t returned home from his last explosive departure after Jordan had assured him there must be some mistake in how he was sending his pay northward, the man was beginning to worry.

He kept watching the street, waiting for the boy to come slouching back up it with his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his thin features. He had taken the broom from its hook and leaned it up against the door, ready for Pippin’s calloused hands when he returned. Jordan waited, puttering around the shop, and waited some more.

When the sun set and Pippin still had not returned, Jordan felt something akin to terror. He’d never realized he was attached to the boy until he found himself gathering his coat from the back of his closet, intent on venturing out into the night. The fiery young man he quietly fretted over as he watched him waste away reminded him too much of his dear younger sister; he could see the same stubborn resolution to make things right that she had carried in the eyes of her curly-haired son. He never had met the boy’s father, but he always wondered whom she had met who could match that mettle.

Just as Jordan was slipping his feet out of his house slippers and into his shoes, there was a knock on his door. The pounding was thorough, rattling the wood like someone had battered at it with the side of their fist rather than their knuckles. It was not a friendly sound.

He found himself frozen for an instant before he slowly made his way over, shoes forgotten. His bare feet scuffled through the dust on the floor, another unpleasant reminder of his missing nephew. He paused at the door, suddenly filled with dread. Leaning against it, he croaked out a wavering: “Who is it?”

There was silence for a moment. A gruff voice answered. “Queen’s business. Open up.”

His heart hammered. He laid thin, trembling fingers on the lock, then paused. How was he to know this wasn’t a robbery? He swallowed. What had Pippin done?

“The shop is closed,” he tried. His forced his voice to be firm, though it was still quiet and rather meek. “Please return in the morning. I am not obligated to conduct business at this hour of the night.”

“Either you open up or I bust this door down,” the voice replied. Jordan hesitated. The pounding started again. He winced, hearing one strike land with a definite splinter. With shaking hands, he opened the door.

It swung to reveal — not bandits, to his momentary relief. He sagged against the doorframe, gazing at the armored breastplate of a uniformed member of the city guard.

“Thank goodness, I thought you were here to rob me.” He swung the door further and shuffled back to allow the man room to file past him. The soldier stood in the entryway, filling the doorframe with his bulk. When he did not continue into the shop, Jordan felt his fear return. He swallowed shakily.

“How can I — help you?” The soldier was glaring at him, face pulled into a formidable scowl. Jordan’s eyes dipped. He was resting one gauntleted hand on the hilt of his sword. The shopkeeper clasped his thin hands, rubbing them together nervously. His drooping eyes were riveted on the weapon.

“Your name is Jordan Passerville?” The guard demanded. Jordan dipped his head in a small nod. He shuffled further into his shop, easing his feet back into his slippers. The guard watched him with sharp eyes.

“That is my name, yes.”

“You were about to leave. Where were you planning on going tonight?”

Jordan shrugged. He carefully seated himself on the stool behind the counter, breathing a silent sigh of relief as he took his weight off his crooked knees.

“I’m not certain, really. I was going to go out in search of my nephew. He disappeared quite suddenly yesterday afternoon. I’m not certain where he could have gone.” He glanced up suddenly, fear lancing through him. “This isn’t about the boy, is it?” His worry was not soothed by the tightening of the soldier’s jaw. He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have let him storm off like that. Please, tell me, is he — alive? Injured? He hasn’t done anything foolish, has he?”

The soldier’s silence made him glance up again. His voice pitched up, a little shrill. “Has he?”

The soldier shifted his stance. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his blade, creaking. Jordan froze, folding into himself ever so slightly. He could feel his heart beat heavily in his chest. His knees ached.

“Jordan Passerville, you have been summoned to the castle. You will accompany me to the commander’s quarters and answer his questions. Is that clear?”

Jordan swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry. He nodded his head, suddenly aware that he was shaking.

“Please, tell me. What has the boy done?” The helplessness must have been clear in his voice because the soldier relaxed suddenly, dropping his hand from the hilt of his sword. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Jordan shuffled over to his shoes.

“He broke into the post office, and when brought in for trial, assaulted the queen.”

Jordan fainted.

The castle was awe-inspiring. Though he lived in its shadow, pressed up against the towering stone walls like the rest of his city, Jordan had never once ventured closer than business required. He clung to the arm of the soldier escorting him, grateful that the originally brusque and threatening man was willing to shuffled along at his speed without comment. His knees ached abominably, and as they drew closer to the looming walls, lit by torches, their pace slowed to little above a crawl.

Finally the soldier stopped them, one hand splayed against the bony expanse of Jordan’s chest. He kept his voice to a low murmur. “I was only supposed to escort you this far, but you may rely on me to see you to the commander’s quarters. I will do the talking. Just focus on getting there, alright?”

Jordan nodded his head, dazed. Apparently his timidity had sparked compassion rather than contempt in the man. He was grateful, despite his inability to communicate it. He was all too used to being looked down upon by those more able than he. It had been especially fierce during the war, the disgust that the soldiers defending their lands had looked at him with. He wished he could say Pippin did not harbor that same disgust. He wished his sister hadn’t.

If he got the chance to learn this soldier’s name, he would. Maybe he’d write him into his will. Surprise him with a little something once he had passed. The man was at least a decade younger than he; without an active war, surely he’d outlast him. No good deed should go unnoticed, and all that.

He comforted himself with that thought as they shuffled into the looming castle’s shadow.

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