#even after living on the mountain together for years and years and years
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Ever A Never After: Act 1
⟶ Chapter Summary | It feels like a dream come true. Prince Charming comes to the rescue, and then he is suddenly proclaiming his love to you. The promise of your happily ever after is suddenly within arm’s reach. Yet sinister ploys are at play, coming in the way of your happy ending just when you are merely a step away from reaching it
⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie)
⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader
⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Rom-com
⟶ Word count | 19,688 words
⟶ Ratings & Warnings | PG-13, +18 / M for future chapters; slow burn, black magic, curses, fantasy beasts/monsters, fantasy violence, fantasy weapons, mentions of (possible) characters death, blood, self inflicted injury (pretty harmless, no weapons are involved in this part), sudden wedding proposals, coercion, hypnotism, betrayal.
⟶ Special thanks to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi, @theodea
⟶ Story Masterlist: Ever A Never After | next chapter ⇢
⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi | Music companion
⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After
Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom known as Andalasia…
A place where each story ends with happily ever afters and a dream can become reality with one simple wish. Ruled by the powerful Sorceress Queen Rosalyn, who reigns the kingdom with her iron fist, steel heart, and enchanting spells, the kingdom prospers with riches and an abundance of good fortune.
Magic exists in this place as the main core that holds the entire kingdom together.
It protects the people of the kingdom from the evil forces lying in wait within the shadows. Magic also brings light and joy to the people of the kingdom, opulence and prosperity to the land, allowing Andalasia to bloom magnificently for the past century among other magical kingdoms within the realm.
With magic, the people of the kingdom—even those who aren’t mages or sorcerers—are able to have a strong connection with the surrounding nature. The blessings of magic spreads through the land, providing crops and provisions for the people throughout the year. It also spreads through the waters flowing from the mountains and all the way to the open sea, enriching the land, the towns and the vast farmlands within the kingdom’s territories.
The blessings of magic also allows the humans and the creatures of the wild—the animals and fairies—to speak in the same language. Allowing all part of the kingdom to live in harmony and peace under the same sky.
But just like two sides of a coin, magic has another face that the people despises the most; dark magic, with its evil spells and curses, which often draws in malicious forces and lures the beasts and monsters that would pose a threat to the kingdom.
For years, the mighty Sorceress, Queen Rosalyn, has managed to protect the people by using her powers. Yet dark magic has always been powerful. Enough to continue existing in the darkest places of the kingdom, hiding in the shadows, waiting in the crevices of the land for anyone who would be strong enough to wield and harness it.
There is only one kind of magic in Andalasia that is strong enough to defeat these dark spells.
Stronger than the magic that the Queen possesses and casts to rule the kingdom and its people. The most powerful magic that everyone holds out their hopes, dreams, and wishes for. The one that everyone most desperately seeks, no matter what risk they would take to find it. Even the animals and wild creatures of the woods would sing praises about it between the breezing wind, while people within the kingdom would write fables to commemorate its existence.
It is the magic mostly known as the true love’s kiss.
Ever since you were just a little girl, you have heard many stories about it. From the tales that had been written in the books and scribes about the magical moments that are shared by those who have embraced their happily ever afters with their true love’s kiss.
Once you become old enough to understand all there is to know about the magic made possible with true love’s kiss, you begin to feel a deep sense of yearning growing within you. A desire so profound to find your own happily ever after, and to find someone that you could share your true love’s kiss with. This desire has filled your thoughts and dreams, always keeping you wishing and praying for the opportunity to look out to the world so you can find it for yourself.
And last night, after a seemingly long wait, fate itself has decided to answer your prayers by sending you a wonderful dream. A dream filled with signs telling you that your wish may soon come true.
What you saw in your dream was everything that you had always pictured to happen. It got you feeling elated, hopeful, and it had woken you up with the strong desire to immortalise it while you had the chance to.
The sun was barely up when you first opened your eyes, yet there was no way you could remain idle, no matter how comfortable it would have been to stay in bed. Your energy was already high, pushing you to start working on bringing the key piece of your dream into reality while it is still fresh in your memories.
An hour or so has passed since, and you have been moving around your quaint bedroom, bringing with you scraps of fabrics, ribbons, and various other raw materials that you managed to gather from the garden before the sky grew bright. The rapid thrum of your heartbeat becomes the music you hum to while you carefully combine the materials, pinning each piece onto the wooden mannequin standing in the center of your bedroom—the same mannequin you would normally use to create your pretty dresses.
Except instead of displaying a dress, the wooden mannequin has been set up to display your newest creation. These beautiful scraps of fabric that you have collected and formed together aren’t meant to be any piece of clothing that you might be wearing later once the season changes, but to bring the object of your dream—the object of your deepest desire—to come alive.
As your creation is slowly forming into its final shape right before your eyes, you feel a rush of enthusiasm and joy brewing inside your chest. A feeling that you share with your busy little helpers that have been moving in tune with you from every corner of the room.
Their presence has become another reason why you are so full of energy this morning. They are the true blessing that had come from the forest, lured by the sound of your voice as you were singing the wistful tune of your aspiration the moment you woke up from your deep slumber.
Each animal now present in the room are either having fun watching and cheering for you, or helping you with all the different tasks that they can handle. You enjoy watching your small friends following your instructions obediently while singing along with the cheerful tune you are humming while you continue to work.
The wild hummingbirds that are usually shy and diffident are now fluttering around the mannequin, securing the ribbons that you have specifically chosen for your project. The fluffy chinchillas keep running back and forth to bring in more scraps and little accessories from your drawers to add to your creation.
Once in a while, some more of your fluffy little fellows slip into your room. Always carrying with them the various items that they could find from the forest and the small patch of garden right outside of your cabin in case they would be useful.
Just like the pair of wild sparrows that are flying in through your window right this moment. The sound of their cheerful chirping fills the room, drawing your attention to their arrival. “Here are some more leaves and fresh straws that you can use for the hair, sweet Blossom.”
A smile is lifted on your face as they drop some autumn leaves and fresh-smelling straws from their beaks and talons into your open palms. “Why, thank you, sweethearts,” you gratefully say to them, “These should make the hair look all fluffy and soft.”
Soft flutters rise in your chest as you lean to give each sparrow a light peck on top of their heads. A gesture that you give not only because you are feeling grateful for their help, but also for the way they are calling you with your childhood nickname in such an endearing way.
Blossom.
Your mother had been the one who gave you the special name when you were born. It was said that the flowers seemed to blossom more beautifully the moment you came into this realm, and the nickname has stuck on you ever since. The name that is interchangeable with your birth name, and one that anyone who is close to you would often choose to call you with.
You begin humming to yourself again as you drift back to your mannequin, pinning the leaves into the crown of the mannequin’s head. You have yet to get everything done when you hear soft voices calling for you excitedly from below.
“How about these bronze quartz for the eyes?” A pair of white wild bunnies call out to you as they hop around your ankles. Clapping your hands with joy, you bend down to gracefully accept their gifts.
“Oh, yes!” you squeal as you lift the pair of bronze quartzes to your eyes, loving how they glow under the bright morning sunlight.
“How lovely, and they look perfectly similar to the eyes looking back at me in my dreams,” you delightfully exclaim to them as you attach the dark-coloured crystals to the mannequin’s face, giving it a pair of eyes that are glinting beautifully as if they are coming alive. “Those eyes looked as dark as the night sky but were glowing like twilight when I looked deeply into them in my dream, and these pretty quartz are reminding me of them.”
Ada, the gentle deer, prances over, bumping her head against your calves to draw your attention to her. “Then how about these are some goose feathers I found at the lake this morning? Would these help too?” she gently offers as she drops the delicate feathers by your feet.
With an astonished gasp, you bend down to your knees to retrieve it. You take a moment to marvel at them as a flutter of delirious giggle rises in your throat. “What beautiful feathers, perfect for a prince. I wonder where I should put this,” you ponder to yourself, tapping your chin as you admire the feathers’ colouring—its golden-brown gradient shade that looks luxurious, like pieces of expensive materials that you can only see adorning the fancy dresses or suits that the nobles wear to the Queen’s royal ball.
With a soft bubbling laughter, you twirl on your feet before pinning the feathers on its upper torso, and you can almost see it shimmer as the sunlight falls on them.
“Oh, how perfect!” you marvel at the mannequin standing right before you with a sigh. Stepping back from it, you take in the result of your hard work, making sure that you have followed every little detail that has been engraved in your memory.
“Just what exactly are you making so early in the morning? Keeping everyone busy before you even had your breakfast,” Poppy, the sassy squirrel who is also your most loyal companion, huffs curiously as she climbs over your shoulder, wanting to have a clear look at what you are creating.
“Oh, Poppy. My dear sweet Poppy.” A dreamy sigh escapes from your lips, which only draws more confusion on your little friend’s face. “I had a dream last night.”
“A dream?”
“Oh yes, Poppy. A wonderful dream.” You cannot help but giggle as a giddy feeling fills your chest. You also feel a sense of longing, an odd sensation which has been plaguing you ever since you woke up from this magical dream.
“Tell us about the dream, Blossom,” your friends chirp and sing from all around you, “Tell us!”
With a smile, you slowly drop down to the floor cushions at the corner of your bedroom, finding comfort as you begin to share your tale, “I dreamed of a prince. A very handsome, charming, and powerful prince.”
With your eyes on the wooden mannequin, you gesture your hand at your nearly finished work, “And he looks just like this.”
The statuette figure that stands before you, shaped by the decorated and fully-dressed wooden mannequin, appears like the prince of your dream. Standing tall enough that you have to lift your chin up to look at it properly even while you were on your feet, the replica of the prince seems to come alive. You may not have been able to see his face as clearly as you would have liked, with how hazy that dream now seems to your mind. Yet as you run your gaze over your creation, you have to admit that you may have come close to getting at least something about him right.
The upper frame of the mannequin is draped with a made-up attire that looks like a three-piece suit. While it doesn’t look as refined as the suit you pictured in your mind, it still looks intricate enough to resemble the fancy suits made for nobles.
The jacket, made from a piece of wool which you once used to craft yourself a winter coat, is fitted to show the figure’s broad shoulders and trim waist. You didn’t forget to add a long tail at the back of the jacket, giving it a more sophisticated look—which you can imagine would flow prettily should the ‘prince’ walks across the room to ask you for a dance. The royal blue hue of the fabric allows the suit to stand out under the bright morning sunlight penetrating into the room. You can almost imagine it, the person wearing this jacket shining among the other people in a massive ballroom, drawing everyone’s attention just as you are unable to look away from it now.
The golden-brown goose feathers that Ada had brought you look like golden embroideries adorning the lapels of the jacket. With a subtle sheen on them, the feathers are able to catch the sunlight perfectly as you try to look at them from different angles.
Beneath the jacket, a waistcoat made of a matching fabric but in deep brown hugs the mannequin’s torso. Its snug fit creates an illusion of a broad and strong chest that would have filled its form perfectly as a powerful gentleman would. Various stones and crystals that you have pinned at the front of the waistcoat make up to replace the fancy buttons, and they all look almost like polished jewels against the dark backdrop as the sunlight falls on top of them.
A pair of trousers are set up to cover the lower part of the mannequin. Using a smooth fabric that looks almost like satin, the piece of clothing looks no different than what most royals or nobles would wear in the fancy parties that you had quite a few experiences attending to. The trousers seem to have added an illusion that looks captivating to your eyes; a silhouette of a pair of legs that are long and strong, with toned muscles hidden underneath and a sturdy foundation that would display class and elegance.
A crisp dress shirt in pristine white completes the entire ensemble. The light ruffles from the collar are peeking out from beneath the jacket, creating the illusion of the figure’s long neck. A silk tie is knotted around the throat, created from your silky scarf that has a spread of tiny blue flowers on a white background which seems like the perfect match to the dress shirt and the intricate looking jacket.
“Yes, this is all perfect. This is how he looked like in my dreams,” you muse with a contented sigh, grateful that you were able to bring the image of your prince to life only based on the memory of your lovely dream.
“But what did you see in this dream of yours, Blossom?” you hear the wild doves chittering from the windows, no doubt asking on behalf of your other animal friends who are present here, all silently swooning over your story, “What did you and the Prince do?”
“Oh,” you stutter as you remember the beautiful moments that you saw in your dream.
“It was so, so romantic. He was fighting this evil beast, a black dragon that was breathing out fire so hot it could burn down the entire magic forest—” you start by sharing the part of the dream that gave you a fright, drawing a collective sound of sharp gasps from everyone in the room as well as you talk about the fierce dragon who was fighting against your Prince from the top of a dark tower.
“—and then, once he won the battle and peace was reclaimed once more, he came to catch me as I was falling from height. We locked eyes with one another and had our moment, and that was when he chose to stay longer with me, ensuring my safety instead of returning to the castle. We talked for hours, walked through the forest, and he even took me on a ride in his glowing carriage. And when evening came, once the moonlight and the bright stars came to replace the sun, he finally asked me for a dance.”
A collective sound of dreamy sighs echo through the room, increasing the excitement you feel bubbling inside your chest. And you have yet to reach the best part of it.
“And then? What happened next, Blossom?” the fluffy and shy badger, Brew, asks you curiously from behind the curtains, where he had been hiding while watching you have fun with his friends.
With a happy giggle, you lean back against the cushions while keeping your eyes on your made-up Prince. “We danced, and danced, and danced all night, and right at the sound of the clock chiming at midnight, we shared one of the most magical moments ever”—you let out a long, deep sigh as you murmur softly—”with a true love’s kiss.”
“A true love’s kiss?” everyone gasps and sighs, sharing the elated feeling that is now surging through your chest.
“But how will you be able to have a true love’s kiss,” Poppy teases as she climbs over the right shoulder of your ‘dream prince.’ She bends and points at the empty space at the bottom of the face as she jokingly asks, “If this prince of yours doesn’t even have a pair of lips?”
Your eyes follow Poppy’s little fingers and an astonished laugh slips out of you. “Oh, dear me! We forgot the lips!” You quickly cover your mouth before the sound of your laughter reaches outside of your bedroom, realising too late that this is still early in the day. Yet your eyes remain on the mannequin’s expressionless face. “Oh, what should we place there as his lips? Does anyone have any idea?”
Almost immediately, your little friends begin to chirp and squeal and chitter with each of their own ideas.
“How about some fresh flower petals?”
“Red roses don’t bloom as much or as pretty in this time of year!”
“Berries?”
“How about red chilli peppers?”
The last response makes you laugh, joined by your delighted forest friends who seem to be enjoying their time with you, just as much as they seem to be enjoying the look on your face as you are filled with happiness and joy.
But before you can say anything to respond to their ideas, a gentle voice calls out to you from downstairs.
“________! Sweet Blossom, where are you?” the voice echoes through the small cabin, and your friends scatter to different places to take cover. Some remain, yet they choose to hide in small places, while others jump into safety right out the window. The voice continues, “I know you’re awake. I can hear you singing from all the way down here.”
“Oh, it’s Grandmother!” With a stifled laughter, you rise to your feet and rush to move. “Quick, help me hide this.”
Grabbing a blanket, you bring it to the mannequin, hoping that you would be able to cover it in case your grandmother ever decides to walk up to your bedroom. While it may not cause you any trouble should your grandmother ever finds out what you have been up to all morning, you know that she would only worry once she sees the ‘dream prince’ standing in your bedroom.
You don’t even want to try and imagine what your grandmother would say, or what kind of look that she would give you if she ever hears why you are using your working mannequin to create your own Prince Charming.
“Get your head out of the clouds, dear. We have other important things to worry about and focus on. It’s not good to be dreaming too much when you’re awake.”
That is what she would always say whenever you talk about your dreams of finding your happily ever after, or whenever you listen to your grandmother’s friends and customers about the most recent gossips and tales from the kingdom.
“Blossom, quick!” Poppy’s voice snaps you out of it, as she and the rest of your remaining forest friends begin to pull on the other side of the blanket to help you cover the mannequin.
Once it is perfectly hidden, you pull yourself together and turn away, only making one last glance at the now-covered ‘dream prince’ before making your way downstairs to see your grandmother before she starts calling for you again.
“I’m coming, Nana!”
The place that you call home is nothing more but a small wooden cabin located deep in the woods, right at the heart of the Amaranth Forest. Located quite a distance away from the Queen’s castle, your home serves as a place of solitude, away from the bright and bustling life of the kingdom.
This is where your sweet grandmother has raised you all on her own ever since you were a young child. You may have no recollection of your parents, being so young when they were gone. But everything in the cabin serves as the reminder of their existence. From the pictures that are being hanged on the walls and placed on the mantle above the fireplace, to the small trinkets that they left behind, each one holding pieces of their memories for you to remember them by.
Growing up without them, you barely felt the weight of their absence. To every void formed by the lack of their presence in your life, your grandmother fills it with her overflowing love and beautiful memories. Being under her care allows you to live with happiness and joy, as she continued to make sure that you could live your life to the fullest. She has also taught you to remain grounded, to be able to build your own life without losing your focus or getting lost in your dreams.
And there are also your friends from the forest, the wild animals that would often come to visit you whenever you are in need of company. They have kept you from feeling lonely, whether during the good days, but more so on your darkest days. The same way they are keeping you company right this moment, as you are trudging along the woods to finish the day’s errands which your grandmother had sent you out to do.
“I’m making breakfast for both of us before I will have to leave to the shop downtown,” she said once you joined her in the kitchen earlier when she called for you to come downstairs, “But I need help getting some ingredients from the gardens and the groves. I would go myself, but my knees have been bothering me. Will you be a dear and fetch them for me?”
There was no way you could have refused your grandmother’s request. Not when you saw the look on her face this morning when you first came down from your bedroom.
The dark pockets under her eyes have been more obvious as of late, so have the lines of age marring her skin. You cannot remember seeing your grandmother so tired and weary as she did today, but she has always known to hide her exhaustion well. Even if it means having to force a smile on her face just to stop you from worrying about her as she continues with her day.
Still, it doesn’t stop you from wondering if there is something for her to be wary about. The thought follows you as you are gathering all the ingredients needed—the wild mushrooms from the nearby woods and some fresh vegetables from the small patches of gardens that your grandmother has been tending to.
Perhaps your worries have been written so clearly on your face, because the moment you announced your leave after seeing your grandmother, your animal friends immediately insisted to come with you. And you are grateful for their company. Because despite having these worrying thoughts filling your mind, you still find yourself enjoying your time in the open with them around to entertain you.
It is also a blessing that the weather is nice this morning.
The sun feels warm on your skin, while the canopy of trees above your head are keeping you safe from the rising heat. Small birds are flying between the trees above you while accompanying your walk with their melodic tune. You also have Poppy joining you, as she is perched comfortably on your shoulder when she isn’t jumping around to help you plucking out fresh ingredients from the ground.
The wild bunnies and Brew the badger are also there, jumping all around you as they follow you through the woods. Even Ada is following you close, as she acts like a guide before she will be making her way to the river to continue her morning stroll.
After quite some time has passed, and almost all of the ingredients that you needed have been gathered, your friends begin to remind you of your ‘dream prince’ once again when their constant teasing continues.
“Now that we have everything that your Nana needed, shall we go around to look for the perfect lips to give your dream prince?” Poppy suggests as she places the last piece of the potatoes into your basket.
“Oh, my! I almost forgot!” You gasp, and immediately, all the delightful feeling you had earlier returns to you tenfold as you remember about your Prince Charming. “You’re right! Now that we’ve gotten everything, we should continue with our mission to find the Prince’s lips. We do have some time left before Nana has to go to open the shop for the day.”
After sharing a quick discussion between you and your friends, everyone decides to follow Ada to the nearby river where she always does her morning stroll. Arriving there, she leads you to the thick bushes where the wild berries always grow during the season. The luscious shade of crimson from the fresh berries looks perfect, just the shade that you were searching for, and it makes you feel even more enthusiastic about finishing your creation.
Seeing the look on your face, Poppy rolls her eyes and makes a tutting sound. “Oh, Blossom, do you think that your dream boy truly exists?” she wonders out loud.
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” you simply answer, feeling optimistic about it still as you carefully pluck the berries and slip them into your basket. “If he could come into my dreams, then he must be out there somewhere.”
“Where?” Poppy teasingly asks as she dramatically begins looking around, peering through the woods to find your prince.
Rolling your eyes back at her, you simply laugh at her antics. “He could be anywhere. He might be somewhere within these woods, getting lost between the thick trees while he is making his way to find me. Or he could be on the other side of the mountains, fighting off dragons and monsters to claim as his prize while proving himself worthy before winning my heart and sweeping me off of my feet.”
With a sigh, Poppy shakes her head at you. “Oh, _______. I think your grandmother was right when she said that you have your head up in the clouds. Remember to get back to the ground before you fly too high.”
You can only smile as you recall your grandmother saying the same thing; that you have always been dreaming even when you are awake, and that you always let your imagination run too far, when your mind is filled with all the wishful thinking you have about finding your happily ever after.
You can understand why she would feel so worried about you, wondering if one day you would find it hard to face reality with how much you keep dreaming about your happiness. Even though it had been your grandmother herself who made you believe in happily ever afters in the first place.
“Your parents had their happily ever after. That was how you came into this world, and why they are still together now. Wherever they may be,” you heard her speak one time while she was lost in thoughts, soon after she was done telling you all the tales about happy endings and finding true loves.
It wasn’t often for your grandmother to talk about your parents. Except for the rare occasions where she would tell their stories, about how they met and fell in love, and how their happily ever after made it possible for you to be born.
She would always wear a look of longing in her eyes whenever she talks about your parents. Although it would always be accompanied by sadness and hurt — the emotions that are constantly written so vividly in her face. It has always made you feel hesitant about bringing up your parents when you talk to her. But there is something in the way your grandmother tells what little tale she has about your parents’ love story and happily ever afters that continues to bring you hope. It makes you wish that the kind of love they had does exist, and that you may one day find it.
Sighing to yourself, you embrace the blissful feeling that you have each time you recall parts of your dream which makes your heart flutter. The more you think about the dream, the more you refuse to believe that your dream had meant nothing at all.
Andalasia is a land filled with magic, after all. A place where dreams come true. And you believe that the dream had been a sign telling you that your happily ever after is near.
“I’m not going to fly off to the clouds just to find him, Poppy. Not when he might be somewhere close by,” you simply tell your friend as you finish up your hunt for the perfect lips that you are giving your made-up Prince.
Little do you know that your words are merely moments into coming to reality.
Because just as you are finishing up your errand, when you are ready to turn back home with your basket filled to the brim with fresh assortments, a commotion begins to rise on the other side of the woods.
Oblivious to the possible danger that is coming towards you, you continue prancing between the trees, enjoying your time with your animal friends playing by your side. You start singing along to the song that they are singing about your dream prince, the true love’s kiss, and your happily ever after, unknowingly luring the incoming peril that is coming to find you as the sweet tune of your voice echoes through the deep forest.
On the other side of the woods, beyond the steep hills covered in thick clusters of trees, the sound of a deep, feral roar echoes through the vast woodland.
Gone is the peaceful morning, and the entire forest wakes up to a sudden rising turmoil.
The trees are shaking with the echoing roar while the ground is rumbling violently, sending wild animals around to scamper away to find places to hide. Some have barely made their safe escape when the dense trees are suddenly parted, and a giant troll bursts through the thickets.
The creature’s massive foot stumbles as he rushes through. Avoiding the trees and boulders that are getting in his way seems like a struggle, yet his speed has yet to falter even when he can barely stay upright in his hasty run. It isn’t so much of the obstacles that appear on his path that are making it hard for him to run across the woods, but more because of the remnants of the broken restraint still dangling around his ankles.
As the creature continues to scramble to find escape, a white horse appears to be racing not to far behind. The sound of its hoofs hitting the ground in rapid speed adds to the entire commotion. The steed pushes forward, giving its full strength as it runs between the trees to keep up with the troll, while the rider continues to shout his commands, pushing his steed to keep giving a chance.
Following behind is yet another man in a horse, barely keeping up with the first rider and the relentless creature running before them.
“Sir Noah! How did you manage to let that creature escape? He’s running even faster than before!” the first rider shouts with a firm voice.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” the man following the first rider calls out between his heaving breath. He can barely keep his composure while his darker horse seems to be struggling to maintain its speed and trying its best not to get left behind.
“I was sure that I’ve tied the monster’s hands and feet as strong as I possibly could. I merely step aside to, ugh—” the man gets his breath knocked out of his chest as his steed leaps over a fallen tree, “To rest my old man’s back and all of a sudden, the rope on his hands snaps, and he just rose to his feet and began running.”
The man stops shouting to catch his breath while trying his hardest to control his loyal horse. Both himself and the horse that he is riding are old and withered, not as young or as strong as the Crown Prince who is riding ahead with his massive white horse. They have all been running and working on the hunt since the break of dawn, yet the horse has yet to show any signs of exhaustion. It doesn’t seem to be losing its strength, just as the Prince’s stamina has yet to falter even when he was the one to fight the creature to its submission less than an hour ago.
“It was the voice!” The man, Sir Noah, manages to scream out once he has his breath steadied. “There was a strong breeze coming while the troll was tied down, and I swear I heard a voice coming with the wind, a voice that sounded so beautiful. Like a birdsong. Perhaps the voice enchanted the troll to gain its strength!”
“Then we must find the source of that voice to stop the troll!” the Prince shouts back, still with vigour that has yet to fade.
“But, Prince—” Sir Noah tries to shout to stop him as the Prince rides ahead, speeding faster away from him. “Prince Jungkook, wait!”
To Sir Noah’s surprise and disgruntlement, the Prince seems to find joy in this entire predicament as he laughs and shouts to his horse to pick up speed right as the troll stops struggling in his run. “Go, Onyx! Don’t lose him!”
“No, Prince! Your Highness, you need to stop before you hurt yourself,” Sir Noah continues to shout, although his voice is slowly fading as he is beginning to lose his breath once more.
“No, I won’t. I can do it! I know I can!” Jungkook continues to shout back, almost like he is chanting to himself with pure confidence as he leads his horse to keep its steady pace through the thickets. “I’ve had him before so I can’t give up now.”
Sir Noah has lost track of time and distance, unaware of how far they have gone since the troll started making his escape. All he can see around him are trees, more trees, a couple of small hills to run over before the land opens up to a small meadow that fades into another part of the forest that is just as dense as where they first started this intense chase. He cannot help but blame himself for his recklessness, even more so as he watches in horror the moment the troll jumps off of a small hill to cut more distance to wherever he is heading to, with the Prince’s horse making a huge leap right after.
“No!” Sir Noah screams out, before his voice turns to a loud screech when his horse follows its younger counterpart to jump off the hill in his shadows. “Lord have mercy!”
“This is so much fun!” Prince Jungkook shouts with a boastful laugh, completely disregarding Sir Noah’s fright. The excitement that is palpable through his voice only makes Sir Noah’s stomach drop.
“No, this is not fun, Prince Jungkook!” Sir Noah yells out of frustration before groaning, “Oh dear, the Queen is going to have my head for this.”
Before he can say more, the previous sound that he heard through the wind is starting to reach him again. He can tell that they are getting close to the source. Close enough for him to listen to the alluring tune that has been calling for the troll more clearly and identify it as a female voice, singing to the animals and the forest, and his fear escalates further.
Oh yes, there is no doubt that the Queen will have my head for this, Sir Noah wonders to himself as he straightens up and clutches at the horse’s reign tightly to keep it steady. He knows that he is only going to put the Prince in danger, but Sir Noah has no other choice.
“Your Highness! It’s the voice! The troll is after the one who is singing this melody!” he starts shouting at the Prince, who now has his eyebrows furrowed with deep focus, growing concerned with Sir Noah’s pleading words.
“Prince Jungkook, you must hurry and stop him before he gets to the singing lady!”
“There you are, sweet little Princess. Such pretty voice. Pretty enough to eat!”
For a moment, you cannot comprehend what is actually happening.
One minute, you were walking between the bushes and the flower beds, admiring the wildflowers blooming under the morning sky while humming to the birdsong echoing through the woods. And then, suddenly, the lovely birdsong stopped, the forest fell quiet, and your animal friends became so agitated that their cheerful chirps and giggles faded to whispers.
The next thing you knew, your peaceful moment with your friends was broken when the ground you were standing on began to quake, the trees up the hill began to shake furiously before they parted, and a giant troll burst through the thickets. He spoke with broken dialect and a menacing tone of voice, followed by an eerie roar coming out of his mouth as he started barrelling his way towards you.
At first, there is nothing that you can do except to remain frozen. You are too stunned to move, unable to react as you watch this monster running straight towards you. It is also baffling to see that the creature is doing it while screaming and looking so happy about eating you.
“_______! Snap out of it!!” Poppy suddenly screams, snapping you out of your daze. “We need to run. Now!”
With a gasp, you hike up your skirt and quickly turn away. “Run, everyone!” you shout at your friends who immediately scatter to find their escape, while you struggle to run the opposite way to confuse the creature.
Although it doesn’t seem like your effort is needed, because the troll seems to have set his eyes on you and you alone, as none of your fleeing companions catches his eyes and he is still running to get you. “Why is it chasing me?”
“I don’t know, but keep running!” Poppy continues to scream, still perched on your shoulder with her claws sinking into the fabric of your dress as she holds on tightly.
Normally, you consider yourself quite a runner. There have been times when you would run in the woods, racing against Ada or the wild hares that would often hang out by the lake just for fun. Sometimes you would run with the fairies, even if only to see if you could outrun those who have magic on their side to give them speed.
Yet for some reason, running seems like a struggle as you try to escape the giant troll that seems so engaged in the thought of grabbing you with its filthy hands. You feel as if there is some weight slowing you down, forgetting the fact that you have a basket filled with assortments hanging in one arm while your long skirt is dragging you back.
“The basket! Leave it!” Poppy yells at you once she realises that you are struggling and notices the reason why.
“But it’s for Nana!”
Poppy growls—actually growls—in response. “There’s not even going to be any part of you left to bring them home to Nana if you get freaking eaten by that—that thing!”
As you take a quick glance over your shoulder, seeing how close the giant beast is getting to you, you realise that Poppy is right. At the corner of your eyes, you see the cluster of narrow trees leading up the hill and aim for it to find your escape, hoping that you can shake him off on a rising terrain.
It’s going to be a struggle running up the hill, yet your gut feeling tells you that it’s worth the effort. So you make a run for it, clutching the basket tightly to your chest to keep it safe until you can find a place to hide it.
As you slip between the narrow opening between the trees, you can hear the troll having a hard time following your trail without breaking and getting stumbled by them. You keep running, getting out of breath as you reach the top of the hill, and soon the cluster of trees opens up and grass gives way beneath your feet.
“We’re running out of trees!” Poppy screams, getting a good grasp of what you have been planning to do.
“No, we’re not! We’re almost there!” you yell back at her with gasping breath, and with your eyes set on your destination.
Right there.
Right before your eyes, there stand the twin old elm trees that have grown nearly doubled the height of the hill, with massive branches spreading out to look like two giant canopies of leaves covering the top of the hill. Situated right between them is a massive boulder, firmly standing like the crown of the hill and you have decided — sometime between the hysteria of seeing a troll in this part of the forest and the terror of knowing that he is hunting you — that this place would serve you perfectly in your escape.
Because that boulder marks the end of the hill, and there is nothing else but a massive drop of cliff with rocky walls and the rough stream waiting below.
“Hold on, Poppy!”
Your warning is barely enough to get your friend to tighten her grip on your shoulder when you hop over the boulder, using it to dodge the troll’s hand as he tries to swipe you off the ground. Tossing the basket to the side of the boulder with the hope of keeping it safe until later, you plant your hand on the rock’s surface and swivel around, using it as leverage to switch your direction right before reaching the very edge of the precipice and evade the troll as you roll to the left.
“Aahhh, Blossom!”
“Stop running and let Troll catch you!” the troll roars as he fails to grab you, and his voice grows louder, shifting into a pained roar the moment he loses his balance and trips over the boulder.
Seeing this, a victorious squeal almost escapes your lips. But before you even get the chance to celebrate the success of your escape scheme, you notice too late that your ploy isn’t going as planned.
“Oh, bollocks!” you cry out when you realise that the troll has fallen a bit too soon.
Instead of being thrown off the ledge as you had expected he would after tripping over the boulder, the troll is sprawled on top of the rock, with one hand holding on the edge to stop him from falling over. And the troll—although fallen over and is struggling to push himself up—is still determined to grab you.
Adding salt to your wounded pride, you seem to have also failed to measure the beast’s size. Even sprawled at an odd angle, the troll’s limbs are still long enough to reach you. Sliding back on the slippery rock, you try to put some distance between you, just in time for his massive hand to swipe over the rock, missing the hem of your dress merely inches away.
In desperate need of escape, Poppy jumps off your shoulder just as you are getting off-balance and nearly falling over the ledge instead. You watch breathlessly as Poppy starts climbing up the tree rapidly in her panic while you feel like you cannot move.
“Come on, ________!”
Once again, her voice snaps you out of it, and you begin to follow suit, seeing that there is no escape now with the troll blocking your way back down the hill and the long drop down the cliff walls waiting for you on the other side. Right as you start climbing up the trees, you sense the troll struggling to rise beneath you. Climbing up takes quite an effort when you are in your summer dress, but all the shenanigans you got yourself into growing up may have taught you enough how to climb up quickly.
From the corner of your eyes, you see the troll rising back up to his feet. Wobbling and swaying around as he tries to find balance over the rocky slip beneath him. But you barely pay attention to the beast when something else is grabbing your attention from not so far away.
You can hear the sound of hoofs rapidly racing through the trees. You have been hearing this noise for quite some time already, you realise, coming from a distance while you were focused on trying to escape the troll. Maybe it even started at the same time the troll first appeared from that other hill, chasing the beast the best it could even though failing to catch up on time before the troll reached you.
And now, you can hear it getting closer. And closer.
You can almost see it, the white horse that is running through the cluster of trees to get to you. Yet your curiosity to know where this stranger is coming from and who might be riding the white horse becomes a distraction, causing you to make another mistake.
You start to climb over the nearest long branch that looks strong enough to withstand your weight, hoping that it can keep you away from the troll’s reach. Yet you cannot help but keep throwing quick glances over the line of trees, hoping to see this stranger who is racing towards the foray instead of running away from it.
That is how you miss your footing.
Within a blink of an eye, instead of perching securely on the branch, you find yourself dangling desperately onto it, your hands barely making it in time to find a firm hold to stop you from falling over.
“Aaahhh!!”
“Blossom!” Poppy calls out in panic at the sound of your scream, and she quickly races back down, grabbing onto your wrist as she tries to pull you up. Only that the poor squirrel’s effort seems futile when gravity keeps pulling you down instead of giving in. “Girl, I don’t have enough muscles for this! Pull yourself up!”
“I’m trying!”
While you and Poppy are panicking and struggling to get you back up on the tree, the troll starts balancing himself on the boulder while humming, “Come here, pretty girl. Come to Troll’s hands!”
You open your mouth to shout back at the offensive troll with disgust, only to have another voice shouting before you can get your voice out.
“No! Keep your hands off of her!”
All heads snap to look at the white horse coming out of the woods. The steed races with full force up the rising terrain. But it is the rider that manages to catch your eyes the most. His eyes look fierce with determination but also a hint of thrill as he focuses on the troll.
As if he is having so much fun with this hunt and is eager to finish it.
And he looks captivating as he is doing it. Even more so when he pulls out his sword, wielding it to challenge the beast that barely takes notice, as he is busy trying to grab your ankles.
But you take notice of him. You also notice the way your heart is racing rapidly for a different reason.
Unable to process what—or, in this case, who—you are seeing, Poppy speaks first, ”And who in the Fates’ name is that?”
“That’s—”
There is no way.
Your words fail you in your shock and relief. Pure disbelief runs through you, and you almost feel your grip loosening with how astonished you are at what you are witnessing.
Because there is no possible way for the Prince Charming himself to come and save you. Just like he did in your dream.
“Hang on! Stay where you are!”
The thrill that Jungkook has been feeling while he was racing across the hills to chase the damn troll is slowly shifting into fright once he gets a clear sight of what is happening. He watches with wide eyes as you desperately dangle from the tree branch, your legs swinging to avoid the troll’s grasp and your hands barely strong enough to hold on.
He noticed that you stopped trying to pull yourself up for a brief moment, distracted by his arrival. Yet his shout snaps you back to focus, and he is relieved to see you pulling up, trying your best to climb back onto the branch with the help of a—a squirrel?
Now that he believes that you are going to be safe—even if only for a while—Jungkook focuses on the troll again. This time, he is ready to swing his sword, which reflects the sunlight as Jungkook raises his arm over his head. The strong shine is blinding, and Jungkook uses it to distract the troll and pull his attention away from you.
“Over here, you damn troll!” he shouts with a wicked laugh that will definitely give Sir Noah another headache.
With a feral roar, the troll turns to face Jungkook. “You again. Troll don’t want to go with you. Troll want little girl for snacks.”
A sharp, panicked scream escapes you while Jungkook marches forward with his sword swinging. The troll fights back, bending forward with his arms swinging left and right, back and forth, between trying to grab Jungkook and stopping the sword from reaching his chest—right where he would easily be wounded.
Yet Jungkook easily evades each swipe of hands, his white horse following his command to escape and slip away while bringing him closer.
Except while Jungkook manages to avoid the troll’s attacks, you aren’t having as much luck. Because with each swipe of the troll’s hands and each stomp of his feet, the troll causes the tree where you are dangling on to shake and sway along with the force of his movements. And it is making it harder for you to hold on, much less to climb back on top.
Jungkook waits until the troll is fully facing him before initiating his final attack, making haste about it before you lose your grip and fall over. With a grunt, Jungkook swings his arm back and flings the sword forward, aiming for the troll’s left chest. The sword floats in the air for a brief moment before it strikes its target perfectly.
The troll roars in pain. His hands reach up to grab the sword—which has lodged deeply into his chest—and he staggers back, losing his balance before he falls over the ledge and starts plummeting down the cliff.
Unfortunately, the troll refuses to fall alone. Right before his fall, he reaches out, trying to grab onto the elm tree where you are hanging from as if to stop his fall. Yet his grip never takes hold. Only his sharp nails manage to scratch the tree trunk, shaking the giant tree.
Shaking you, until you finally lose your grip.
A scream erupts through your lips as you start falling from height.
You close your eyes shut during your fall, fearing the long drop and the pain that may come after. Except the pain never comes. Instead, you fall right into something that is soft and hard at the same time.
Warmth engulfs you right away, even before a pair of arms wrap themselves around you. Whatever surface that you have just landed on is beginning to move, rocking back and forth as if it is trying to balance itself under your weight.
You are not too sure yet if you are safe, so you keep your eyes closed shut. It doesn’t matter if you just witnessed the troll falling off the cliff, you can almost feel the shadow of his presence. As if you still have to avoid his relentless attacks.
But then a soft voice reassuringly speaks to you, coaxing you to open your eyes, “It’s okay, Princess. I got you.”
Slowly, your eyes flutter open. And the first thing that you see once your gaze clears out brings those flutters down to your chest.
A pair of dark-coloured eyes that remind you of the night sky are looking back at you, glowing as if there are a million stars in them. He has a pretty face framed with strands of soft hair that have fallen in a flurry mess, perhaps from racing through the woods on his horse to get to you.
And that pretty face seems to grow even brighter when the man, your hero, smiles at you.
It won’t be until later for you to realise that the steady rocking you felt earlier had been the white horse’s movements, as it was struggling to adjust to your weight, while its rider struggled a little to adjust your position on his lap and control his horse until it calmed down. Yet none of it matters now. Not when you are completely entranced with his presence.
All because it feels like you have just witnessed your creation—the dream prince statue that you worked hard on this morning—coming to life right before your eyes.
“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” The words slip out of your lips before you can stop yourself.
Your voice comes out as nothing more but a whisper, but there is no doubt that he can hear you perfectly. You can see it from the way his smile is growing wider.
As if it pleases him to see you so stunned, while he takes pride in this moment when he says,
“It’s me. Your Prince Charming.”
He winks, and your skin flushes with warmth. “I’m Prince Jungkook. But you can call me Jungkook.”
An incredulous laugh begins to bubble its way up your throat, yet not a sound comes out of your lips as you look at him, stunned, as you are still feeling as if you are caught in a daze which leaves you speechless. It was mere moments ago when you had almost gotten trampled down and then eaten by a giant troll after all, and then he came out of nowhere, rescuing you from said troll right before you ended up getting flattened into the forest’s grounds or deep into his stomach.
And then you suddenly found yourself falling into your hero’s lap — quite literally. And that hero turns out to be Prince Charming himself, who seems to have pride as massive as the entire kingdom of Andalasia as he speaks about himself while smiling broadly at you.
It is quite a lot to take in, and you have no idea what to say or how to react. The only thing that you can do is to sit there, perched sideways above his massive horse with his arms holding you to him and keeping you from falling, while your gaze remains locked on the deep eyes that were similar to the ones you vaguely saw in your dreams.
Unaware of the reason why you are stunned to silence, the Prince, Jungkook, may have misread your loss for words as fear. Because he suddenly begins rubbing your back while speaking gently to you, “It’s okay. You are safe now.”
“Yes, thank you,” you mutedly whisper, before you finally snap out of it and realise — he did just save your life! “Oh, that’s right! You saved my life.”
“I guess I did.” There is a hint of relief in the sound of his soft chuckle, making you wonder if he was deeply concerned with you because of your silence. “Do you live anywhere near these woods? Will you be able to return home?”
Blinking your eyes, you turn and look around to notice how far you have gone. It’s not like you had paid much attention to where you were heading while running away from danger.
Yet you are quite familiar with this place, recognising the twin elm trees on the top of the hill which have always been visible when you look out the windows of your bedchamber. Except the distance has always made them seem smaller than their actual size, now that you are looking at it from a closer angle.
You are surprised to realise that you have deviated quite far from your original route, and most obviously, away from home. So surprised that you have no idea what to say to the Prince.
He asks you again, sounding more concerned this time, even if his smile has yet to fade. “Where do you live? How about I give you a ride home?”
Before you can answer him, a sharp gasp breaks the moment between you. Followed with a rushed, panicked voice, saying, “N-no, Your Highness. Forgive me, but you should really go back to the castle. I’m sure the lady is going to be fine without—”
“Forgive me, Sir Noah. But I won’t be much of a gentleman if I don’t take the lady home right away and let her run home on her own after facing such peril,” the Prince says, cutting the other gentleman off before he can say more, without even looking away from you.
You, on the other hand, are shocked that you have failed to notice that there is someone else who has been there with the Prince. Too captivated with your hero’s arrival to realise it. Now, however, as you look over the Prince’s shoulder, you see an older—much older, looking at his partly greying hair and his deep scowl—gentleman on a darker and slightly older horse slowly coming up to the Prince.
“Go back to the castle and collect some men to retrieve the troll,” the Prince continues as he pulls on the rein, ready to command his horse to start moving again. He only looks briefly over his shoulder to greet his companion with a smirk, “I’ll see you back at the castle.”
“But wait, my Prince! Your Highness!” the gentleman shouts, yet the Prince has already ordered his horse to set off to leave this place. But not before he expertly guides the horse to leap across the boulder, giving him a chance to snatch the basket full of goods which you tossed away earlier and allowing Poppy to jump onto your lap.
“Is everyone ready?” he asks, eyeing you as you hold your basket and Poppy securely in your arms. Without waiting for your answer, he nods and shouts an order. The horse takes off, heading downhill at a rapid pace as if it hadn’t been racing across the forest and working hard to help its master defeat the troll.
The other gentleman, Sir Noah, tries and fails to catch up as the horse begins galloping through the thick woods. The gentleman’s voice quickly fades in the distance as he calls out to Prince Charming desperately to make him come back, “Prince Jungkook! You must not do this!”
After reaching halfway across the forest, Prince Jungkook orders his horse to slow down, and the journey continues leisurely. It seems like he is giving his dear horse a chance to take it easy while he takes a moment to enjoy this moment of calmness.
“This is a beautiful forest,” he muses as he looks around. You cannot help but straighten up proudly at his comment. Because you cannot help but agree with him.
Here, away from the scene of chaos, everything feels right again. The breeze feels calming after the entire ordeal. The sound of rustling leaves above you becomes music to your ears, even though it doesn’t do much to drown the rapid sound of your heartbeat. Even the birdsong has returned. The rustling sounds in the bushes let you know that the little critters have gone out of their hiding places.
As if peace has been restored, and the upsetting event which disrupted the entire forest has been erased from existence.
But while the Prince is comfortably taking everything in, you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him.
Feeling your gaze, Prince Jungkook suddenly looks at you. His deep, amused gaze feels so overwhelming that your face immediately starts to flush warmly. You look away when it becomes too much.
“The other gentleman from before,” you ask with a small voice, “Is it really all right to leave him behind and send him away? He seemed—concerned.”
Jungkook laughs. There is something wicked and naughty in the way he is smiling when you look at him again. “There is no need to worry about Sir Noah. He gets concerned of almost about everything. Mostly about me, though.”
“Ah, I see.”
Falling into a brief pause, you feel the tension slowly being chipped away. You realise only now that Jungkook has been using the hand that is not holding the horse’s rein to hold your waist, keeping you safe against his chest.
“So, um—Prince Jungkook?” you speak again to break the tension between you, “What were you doing in the forest this early in the day?”
Jungkook’s eyebrows form a deep crease at your question. “The castle received news about a troll that has been going on a rampage—ruining farmers’ properties, stealing crops and livestock from those poor farmers, and threatening to loot nearby villages. Sir Noah and I left the castle before dawn to catch the troll before it could reach another village.”
He stops with a grimace before looking at your face again. “Perhaps I should apologise. If only I had done a better job at capturing the troll and stopping it from escaping us, you wouldn’t have found yourself in such peril.”
You wave your hand at him. “Oh, that’s all right. You saved my life, so all is forgiven.”
The crease between his eyebrows eases when he smiles. “You said you saw me in your dreams?”
Your eyes grow wide when you recall the way you had blurted out about your silly dream when you had just met him. “Yes, yes I did!” you nervously admit to him, before adding with a whisper, “I—think?”
Jungkook’s grin widens as he admits, “I may have seen you in mine too, Princess.”
“Oh, I’m not a princess. I’m just _______,” you say to him with a nervous chuckle, “Although my friends and my grandmother often call me Blossom.”
“Blossom. Interesting nickname,” he muses, “My mother used to call me ‘her silly little rabbit,’ although I’m not quite sure what that means.” His eyebrows crease again as he thinks deeply about it, making you realise that he looks—adorable, when he isn’t focused on defeating beasts and having fun racing with his horse.
Yet your admiration fades when you come to a jolt, realising what he meant. “Your mother? The—the Queen?” you ask him and he nods. You have many questions running through your head right now, yet you simply ask him the one thing that seems to have gotten stuck in your mind, “What did you mean that you may have seen me too?”
With a grin, Jungkook answers you excitedly, “I might have. I don’t always remember my dreams, but I’m sure that I’ve seen you in it.” He seems sure of himself that you don’t feel any need to question it. Any doubt that you may feel disappears anyway when he is looking at you with those eyes of his, and with a smile that makes your heartbeat jump and gallop. Just like his white horse earlier, especially when you hear him say, “That’s why I know that our meeting must have been fated, don’t you agree?”
You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Is that so?”
“I know so,” he confidently says as he pulls you even closer to his chest. “Our dreams have shown us that we are meant to be. That’s why, I think we should get married.”
You let out a surprised gasp. “M-married?” The sound of your laughter erupts through the woods, drowning the sound of Poppy’s surprised screech.
“Yes, absolutely. We can get married tomorrow.”
The flutters that have been growing in your chest start to go wild. “To-tomorrow?!”
“Yes, isn’t that how the story goes?” he says with a wide smile on his face, reminding you of the smile that you wore all morning when you were talking about your dream prince. It seems as if you are still dreaming now, or that you have been brought back to your dream from last night when he recounts what had just transpired, making you think back about your dream. “I saved you from the evil monster who tried to harm you, swept you off your feet, and then we’ll marry in the castle, and then we’ll share our true love’s kiss—”
Your eyes grow wide. “A true love’s kiss,” you murmur to yourself, to which Poppy turns to look at you with an expression of shock and bewilder. Yet you pay no mind to her, when you are in too much in awe, unable to believe that this is real.
“—and we’ll live happily ever after,” the Prince continues with a beaming smile. “Isn’t that right? So why wait? What do you say?”
You can hear your grandmother’s voice in your head, reminding you not to get lost in your dreams and to always think rationally. You can also feel Poppy’s panicked little grip on your dress and the sound of her stuttering, asking you to pay attention to her.
But every part of your dreams—both from the one you have harboured since you were a young girl and the one you had last night—comes to drown everything to the background. This is it, you wonder to yourself, this is my dream coming true!
With an incredulous laugh slipping out of your lips, you wrap your arms around his neck and say, “Yes, let’s get married. Tomorrow.”
Prince Jungkook joins you in laughter, neither of you noticing the way Poppy is now shaking her head rapidly in disbelief when he says, “Then I shall send the news to the castle and we will have our magical wedding by noon tomorrow.”
“Yes!” you excitedly say with a cheer, “Oh, I can’t wait.”
Your chest is filled with joy and a flutter of nerves that it almost feels like you are about to burst. Things are happening so quickly, so suddenly, so soon. You had woken up this morning with joy and hope that came from the dream you had about your prince, believing that it was a sign from the universe. You never expected to have your dream coming into reality when the day has yet to reach past noon.
But here you are now, looking deep into your prince’s eyes as he is taking you home for the last time, merely a step away from your happily ever after.
Once Prince Jungkook has succeeded in bringing you safely back home to your anxious grandmother, he immediately races back to the home castle. He wastes no time making his way to the Queen’s sitting room, where he knows he will be able to find his mother enjoying her afternoon downtime.
“Queen Mother, I have news!” Prince Jungkook calls out as he marches into the den with a wide smile on his face. There is an air of joy and pleasure following him as he comes to greet his mother.
Queen Rosalyne was in the middle of arranging a flower bouquet when Jungkook rushed in. His excitement bounces against the walls, making her smile as she raises her head to look at her son. “News? What is it now, my Prince?”
Jungkook is nearly breathless when he stands before the Queen, announcing proudly. “I have good news! I know you’ll be happy.”
Holding back her soft laughter, the Queen sits back down and urges Jungkook to continue, “Fine. Tell me.”
“I have found my true love. The one I’ll be sharing my true love’s kiss with,” Jungkook declares proudly with his arms spread wide.
“Is that so?” Queen Rosalyne asks with her eyebrows raised. Soft laughter escapes her, while Jungkook has to hold back his own laughter when he notices that the Queen is saying the same thing as you did when he brought up the idea earlier.
“Who is she? From which kingdom did she come?”
Jungkook is so overwhelmed with bubbling excitement that his entire body is almost shaking. “Her name is ________, and she is from here, Andalasia.”
“Really?” the Queen asks, though she sounds quite doubtful about it. “And where did you meet this girl?”
“It’s actually an interesting story,” Jungkook says before he launches into a story time and shares with his mother everything that has happened since he left the castle this morning.
Starting from the reports about the troll and how he decided to depart at dawn to capture it, how he managed to defeat the troll the first time, only for Sir Noah to accidentally let the creature escape. Then Jungkook starts pacing back and forth as he enthusiastically describes how he raced through the forest to catch up with the troll, while the beast was focused on capturing you, and how he had saved you from the creature.
“It was love at first sight, Queen Mother. Just like the kind that people talk and sing about in their songs. The kind that is celebrated in written stories,” Jungkook concludes his story as he turns to his mother. “It was fate’s work of bringing us together, so it would be right for me to take her hand in marriage, share with her the true love’s kiss, so our love can spread magic all over our mighty kingdom.”
Silence falls between them. Jungkook feels nervous when the Queen barely shows any reaction.
“Mother?” he asks, slowly taking the seat next to the Queen. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, I hear you. I’m not quite sure that I heard you perfectly.” The Queen looks at Jungkook with a deep gaze, her brows furrowing when she asks him, “Did you say you wanted to—marry this girl?”
“I did. It would only make sense. That way we can celebrate with everyone else as we share our true love’s kiss.”
Queen Rosalyne purses her lips. She dislikes any talk about the ‘true love’s kiss,’ and she finds that she doesn’t enjoy it the most when she has to hear it coming from her own son. Yet seeing how excited the thought seems to be making him, as the Prince’s eyes are shining so brightly as he speaks about his possible marriage, and his smile grows wide, genuine, and free—something that the Queen hasn’t been able to see for a long, long time—she finds no reason to deny his wish.
It seems so wrong to deny him happiness. If any, the Queen feels relieved that she finally gets to send him off into the world and give him a reason to stop chasing beasts and monsters throughout the kingdom.
“Fine,” Queen Rosalyne says with a light scoff, “Have it your way. But you must deal with it all on your own. Have Sir Noah help you prepare for the feast if you wish to do this entire thing tomorrow.”
Prince Jungkook is so elated to gain the Queen’s approval that he is practically bouncing on his feet. The Queen holds back a smile, wondering to herself, my silly little rabbit.
She recalls how frustrated Jungkook made her when he was a child, unable to hold back his energy as he kept hopping and running all over the castle. The Queen had sniffed when she was too exhausted to catch up to him and called him out, “Stop playing like a wild rabbit and calm down,” and the nickname stuck with him—and she has used it to call him with it more endearingly—once he started growing up.
Lost in her thoughts, the Queen is caught by surprise when Jungkook bows before her and takes her hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Mother. Your Majesty. You are truly a great and wise mother. I could never repay you.”
Queen Rosalyne is too stunned to speak. She isn’t one to get affected by emotions too easily, but Jungkook’s words seem to have stirred something inside her heart that has grown cold and frozen after so long. She says nothing as Jungkook turns to leave the chamber, leaving her with her running thoughts and the unsettling feeling that has been growing so intensely in her chest since the moment Jungkook mentioned your name.
At the center of Queen Rosalyne’s sitting chamber, there is a small indoor garden with a small water fountain which is made of black stone. Surrounded by well-trimmed hedges of black blooming roses, patches of green grass and white cobblestones covering the ground, the water fountain becomes the center point of the space which represents serenity and solitude.
Yet this is also the place where the Queen often practices her magic, using the secret spells that she keeps mostly to herself. She does this only when she is all alone, whether to watch over her kingdom and cast spells to protect the land, or for reasons that have nothing to do with the well-being of her people.
By the time evening comes, the Queen often uses her spells to fulfil her secret desires. Something that she is planning to do to ease the uneasiness which has been plaguing her ever since the conversation she shared with Jungkook.
As the day slowly shifts into dusk, and the Queen is quite sure that Jungkook has been gone long enough to be deep in arranging things for tomorrow, Queen Rosalyne summons Sir Noah into her chamber.
“The Prince has found a maiden to marry,” Sir Noah announces upon his arrival, meeting the Queen directly in the secret garden which he has frequently visited before.
“Yes, he had come to me this afternoon to announce his intention to marry a girl,” the Queen says, in a most calm, yet dubious tone of voice. “I’m going to assume that you have met this—girl, since I know that you were the one to join the Prince in his excursion today.”
Swallowing hard to ease his nerves, Sir Noah nods. “I was with the Prince when the maiden, uh—fell into Prince Jungkook’s arms.”
This has the Queen’s attention. Turning away from the black blooming roses that she has been tending to, Queen Rosalyne regards Sir Noah with her eyebrows raised. “How—romantic,” she murmurs, “And where did this chance encounter happen?”
Sir Noah clears his throat before answering, “The Amaranth Forest, Your Majesty. It was where Prince Jungkook and I ended up after hunting the giant troll that has been terrorising the people in Sunny Brook Hills.”
All of a sudden, the Queen’s shoulders grow tense. “Amaranth, you say?”
The cold tone of the Queen’s voice and the expression she wears on her face draws chill running down Sir Noah’s spine. He has been working in the castle with the Queen for a long, long time. Long enough to know that she is not happy to hear the information that he just gave her.
After processing this, Queen Rosalyne rises to her feet and turns, making her way to the magic water fountain. The Queen merely stands before the fountain when the thing reacts to her presence. Immediately, the air grows cold and heavy, and it becomes even more intense as Queen Rosalyne raises both of her arms over the water fountain.
The surface of the water ripples as a dark green light emerges from her hands, shining brightly while the Queen enchants her spell. The green light descends into the water, blending with the ripples as the mana shines in dark green.
The Queen steps aside and gestures at Sir Noah to come closer. “Show me.”
Gulping nervously, Sir Noah comes to the Queen's side and slowly folds the cuff of his sleeve. Offering his hand, the Queen raises her sharp nails and slits the skin of his palm, causing a small wound which is enough to let a few drops of blood taint the water inside the fountain. Once the blood blends into the water, the surface ripples intensely until the green light within starts to stretch out, and images begin to appear on the water, framed by the green mana sparkling under the calm ripples.
The Queen bends over the fountain as she is shown the series of events that happened within the depths of the Amaranth Forest this morning. Everything seems to unravel just the way Jungkook relayed it to the Queen.
The giant troll in his escape. The Prince’s relentless chase. And the maiden who was running from the wicked troll before she finally fell into the Prince’s arms.
The scene in the water changes when the Queen swaps her palm over the surface, turning back time to see your daily life in the small cabin with your grandmother. She can see you singing with your forest friends, and then cooking and laughing with your grandmother.
Seeing your grandmother, the Queen’s jaw clenches with recognition.
Too nervous to remain silent, as he is unable to read the Queen’s hard expression and lack of words, Sir Noah begins to explain the events that happened this morning, “The troll was lured into the forest by the maiden’s voice, who was singing to the forest’s creatures. And right after the Prince was able to apprehend the troll, he captured her as she—”
“How uncanny,” Queen Rosalyne murmurs almost to herself, completely disregarding Sir Noah’s rapid blabbering.
“Y-your Majesty?”
Straightening up to her full height, the Queen moves her hand over the water to enlarge the image that she is now seeing on the surface of the water. With a glance, Sir Noah can see a close-up of your face as you are riding on the horse with Prince Jungkook, before the image switches back to you working in the gardens with your grandmother.
“She looks just like her. Exactly like her,” Queen Rosalyne continues to murmur gently, astonished by the sight of you—a commoner girl from the magic forest that even Sir Noah has never met before.
“The maiden? Who are you referring to that would look like her, Your Majesty?”
The Queen gives him no answer, and instead waves her palm over the water until the image dissolves, leaving nothing more but the calm, clear water.
“When will this wedding take place? Has it been decided yet?”
Sir Noah wrings his hands together with nerves. The tension has risen exponentially within the chamber. The change in the Queen’s attitude makes him wary, and he has no idea what is happening.
“Prince Jungkook insisted on having it soon. As—as soon as tomorrow, Your Majesty. The entire castle is already in the height of the preparation for the ceremony.”
The Queen holds back the urge to curse as she turns away, enraged, and she wipes her gardening tools off her work table. The noise and clutters and the flying objects cause Sir Noah to flinch. He has no idea what is currently going on inside the Queen’s mind and chooses to remain silent rather than risk having her unleash her rage on him.
He has witnessed what happened to those who aren’t careful with their words, especially when the Queen is losing her patience like this.
“Call it off,” the Queen suddenly speaks. Her voice has calmed down, yet there is an eerie chill in her tone which makes Sir Noah shudder in fear.
“My-my Queen? What do you mean?”
Queen Rosalyne turns to face him and snaps. “I’m talking about the wedding, you fool! Call it off!”
“But-but Your Majesty, you have given your approval to the wedding,” Sir Noah struggles to speak, “The preparation is already underway. Everything is almost ready, even the Prince has gathered enough—”
The Queen releases a frustrated snarl. Her energy erupts, and a few potted plants within the garden explode under the power of her rage.
Deep down, the Queen didn’t think that it would be possible for Jungkook to make things happen within less than a day. The boy has always been hasty, and she has secretly hoped that he would stumble upon obstacles and give up on the idea of having a wedding so suddenly and have it postponed either way. But now—
Now it’s too late.
When the Queen first gave Jungkook her approval to marry you, she never thought that you would be someone who would be related to her past. She should have been more careful and made sure to find out more about your identity first before she said anything. She had a feeling that something was amiss, and now she is regretting that she hadn’t been listening to her gut.
How? How could this be?
Holding her head in her hands, the Queen chastises herself for being so reckless. Memories of her past come back to haunt her. Guilt, remorse, and hatred, all mix into one. And in her mind, everything blends together to form the shape of your face.
The face that she wishes so desperately to forget.
“Fine. Then I shall do it myself,” the Queen finally says with an eerie calmness in her voice.
“My Queen? What—what do you mean?”
Queen Rosalyne looks at her loyal aide once more and raises her chin. “I’ll make sure the wedding never happens. My son can marry, as long as it’s not with her,” she says as she slowly walks closer to Sir Noah, who can only stare at her with his eyes widening in fear.
“And you are going to help me make it happen, wouldn’t you?” the Queen whispers to him as she gently places the tip of her finger on Sir Noah’s chin, forcing him to only look at her eyes, unable to move or look away.
Gulping hard, Sir Noah quickly nods his head and faintly whispers, “Yes, my Queen.”
The steady rocking of the carriage taking you to the castle should have been able to soothe your anxiety. Maybe lull you to sleep, even.
Yet you have been too anxious that your eyes remain wide. Your hands continue to fidget on your lap and trace along your wedding dress. Not that you have no faith in yourself about the dress. But focusing on making sure that you haven’t missed a seam feels better than looking out the window and focusing on how close you are getting to your destination.
Soon enough—much sooner than expected—the carriage stops with a jolt. The rough sound of cobblestones cracking under the wheels snaps you back to focus, forcing you to raise your head just as a royal guard opens the door for you.
“Welcome to Castle Andalasia.”
Clutching the skirt of your wedding dress, you slowly step out of the carriage. Yet you fail to take notice of how tense your body has gotten. Your muscles have grown so stiff that your steps become clumsy, causing you to lose your footing.
“Oh, my!”
Barely catching yourself from falling, a nervous giggle escapes you as you straighten yourself up before anyone can step up to help. “I’m fine, so sorry.”
The royal guard steps away, leaving you alone with your little friends who have decided to keep you company, all jumping out of the carriage to surround you.
Standing at the castle's threshold, just a few steps away from entering through the main gate, you feel as if you are walking into a dream. There is a giddy feeling rushing through your body that is hard to shake. The urge to pinch yourself is also strong, yet there is nothing that you can do but clutch your skirt tighter until you feel pain in your palms to know that this is real.
That you are now standing right in front of the castle.
The castle.
The place where Queen Rosalyne resides with Prince Charming and her loyal aides. And you are not here simply to come for a formal visit like other common people would do to seek an audience with the Queen to confide about their problems. You are here today for the wedding.
And it will be your wedding.
It still hasn’t truly sunk in yet that you are to be married to Prince Charming. To marry Prince Jungkook, who is loved by everyone in Andalasia for his heroic actions in defeating all the beasts and monsters posing threats to the kingdom.
Before proceeding further, you take a moment to turn around, taking one final look at yourself through the reflection you see on the glass window of your carriage.
Pride blooms within as you look at your wedding dress. The dress is immaculate, handcrafted by your own talented hands since the moment your wedding date was made official and your loving grandmother gave her blessings. Despite her misgivings on your upcoming wedding day, your grandmother stayed up with you, assisting you as you spent all night creating this dress.
Looking at yourself, you must admit that this dress is your true masterpiece.
The bodice of the dress is made of delicate lacework that hugs your figure perfectly while hiding your flaws. The floral patterns on the bodice represent the beauty of the forest and your lovely garden back home perfectly, intertwining and cascading down your form like fresh vines with wildflowers blooming at every tip.
The lace, meticulously stitched by your own hands, is filled with every drop of hope and love that you harbour for the happily ever after that you have dreamed about for as long as you can remember.
From your shoulders, down to your arms, a similar ensemble of delicate lacework covers your skin in a comforting fit, adding modesty and elegance to your dress which seems presentable for your special day at the castle.
From the waist, the fabric flows down like a river of light, billowing into a skirt that trails down to your ankles, rippling in subtle waves with each step that you take. Layers of soft, finely crafted tulle form the skirt to create an illusion of a cloud, making it seem as if you are floating as you slowly turn and twirl to see yourself in every angle.
Around your shoulders, a veil made of the finest gossamer falls in a delicate cascade down to your back, instead of acting like a cover to shield your face from view. You have the veil fastened to your hair, which is styled in a fancy yet simple twisted bun. Tiny pearls and crystals in different sizes and shapes are woven into the fabric of the veil, and they sparkle like dewdrops under the soft glow of the bright sunlight.
Growing even more tense with nerves, your hands continue to clench and unclench around your dress, feeling lost with nothing else to hold on to. You wish that your grandmother had been fit enough to be here so you could hold her hand for support, yet you force that thought away, knowing that she hasn’t been well enough to travel far from home. Much less to walk you down the aisle to give you away to the Prince.
“Stop that right now before you ruin your dress,” Poppy suddenly scolds you, slapping the back of your hands until you let go from where she is perched on the side of the carriage.
“Here,” she says, shoving a small bouquet of flowers—filled with a collection of wildflowers, carnations, and baby’s-breath—into one of your hands while Brew, the wild badger, and the white bunnies run around the skirt of your dress as they shove a glowing tiara into your other hand.
“Put this on your head, Blossom,” they sing together cheerfully, forcing you to lean down as you accept their little gift and gently place it on the crown of your head.
“Thank you, my sweet little angels. I don’t know what I would do without you,” you whisper with a content sigh, feeling your nerves calming down as you look at your little friends.
Your eyes meet Poppy’s worried gaze as she sighs. “Are you really sure about this, ______?”
Smiling at your friend, you bend down to match her gaze. You know that Poppy has been feeling unsure about all of this. She may have kept her words to herself when the two of you were on your ride home with Prince Jungkook yesterday, yet you could still sense her concern along the way. She has also voiced her concerns about how quickly everything is unfolding, yet she did nothing to stop you from carrying on with this wedding plans when you showed how hopeful and confident you were with your decision.
Even your grandmother had been worried when you first came home with the news. Yet the Prince was there with you when he asked for her permission to marry you, which melted her heart a little that she had no other choice but to let you go.
“I am sure. What are the odds that I was to meet with Prince Charming the morning after I dreamt about him? It was definitely a sign from fate, which I must follow if I want to find my happily ever after. Surely, you’d understand.”
You said the same thing last night, when Poppy was there to help you finish your wedding dress. The same thing you also said to your grandmother once Prince Jungkook left to return to the castle, reassuring her that fate wouldn’t have given you the signs if this wasn’t meant to be.
“I do. I’m happy for you,” Poppy says with a small smile, “But you must promise me that you’ll never leave us behind and forget about us.”
“Never. The forest will always be my home. I’m sure Prince Jungkook is open to helping me make arrangements so I can still spend time with you,” you gently reassure her, “And for me to visit grandmother too from time to time.”
Poppy shakes her head and shrugs. “All right, if you say so,” she says, finally giving in, “What are you waiting for, then? It’s time to go.”
Your other forest friends who have been silent while watching you and Poppy going back and forth about the wedding are now cheering for you to go. “Let’s go, Blossom! Go!”
Their positive energy quickly rubs on you. It helps build up your excitement. A bubble of laughter comes out of you as you feel every bit of your apprehension being chipped away.
“All right, I’m ready!” you shout, inciting more cheers from your friends. “Let’s go watch me get married!”
Hiking up your skirt just enough so you won’t be stepping on the hem, you turn and start to track down the pathway leading to the main gate of the castle, carrying with you a new determination and your little friends shadowing your footsteps.
At the main gate, you are welcomed by a familiar face. Standing right before the gate is Sir Noah, still looking as graceful as how you remember him. Wearing a royal suit in dark plum colours and gold linings, his greying hair neatly combed back instead of falling down his face, he looks just like any royal advisor would.
A smile grows on his face when he sees you coming near, and you greet him with a curtsy. “It’s so nice to see you again, Sir Noah.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Welcome to Castle Andalasia,” he says in return. As you straighten back up, you see him looking around you while looking confused. “Are you, perhaps—on your own? Do you not have anyone with you today?”
Smiling ruefully, you slowly shake your head. “I no longer have any family other than my grandmother,” you answer with a soft voice. “It’s unfortunate that my grandmother isn’t doing well and she couldn’t travel far in a carriage.”
Something flashes in Sir Noah’s gaze—surprise, pity, sadness, and an odd look of guilt, although you cannot understand why he would feel so guilty about hearing this—before his expression clears to normal.
“But, there is nothing to worry about,” you cheerfully add, “because I have my friends here with me to witness this wonderful moment.”
Sir Noah raises his eyebrows while your friends release a loud cheer. Yet Sir Noah quickly clears his throat and shakes his head. “I see. Unfortunately, I’m afraid your friends will have to enter separately. They are guests, after all, and you might need time to finish preparing.”
While your friends express their displeasure with a series of protesting sounds, you keep a smile on your face to change Sir Noah’s mind. “Oh, but—these friends can help me get ready for the ceremony,” you let out a nervous laugh as you try to convince him, “They were the ones who helped me make this dress too.”
“And they’ve done a marvellous job,” Sir Noah smoothly says, “But I can assure you that our palace maids will be able to help you, and it will be better for your friends to simply enjoy the ceremony as guests, don’t you agree?”
Right beside you, Poppy stares at Sir Noah with a scowl on her face. Yet she also sees you getting nervous again because of the sudden change of circumstances. That is why—reluctant as she is to leave you—Poppy masks her emotions and turns to help calm you down.
“It’s okay, Blossom. I’m sure Prince Jungkook has ordered the palace maids to assist you. We’ll be seeing you later inside, okay?”
Still feeling unsure, you eventually agree. “Okay,” you murmur to Poppy before turning to Sir Noah, “But Poppy will be the one walking me down the aisle in my grandmother’s place.”
Sir Noah barely hides his displeasure this time. With his jaw clenched, he releases a sigh and says, ”Fine. That can be arranged. But you really should go now, or else, you’ll be late for your own wedding.”
“Oh, right! Absolutely.”
Finally, with a deep sigh of relief, Sir Noah steps aside to let the royal guards open the main gate for you to enter. “Follow this path right here to enter the royal garden, and someone will see you to show you where to go,” Sir Noah instructs you while gesturing towards the long-winded stone-covered pathway leading you towards the maze-like garden. With lines of green hedges on either side of the pathway and a wooden arch-shaped pergola covered in vines waiting for you halfway into the garden.
“Okay, here we go,” you whisper to yourself, saying it with a clear mind as a self-pep talk before you start walking again.
With your hands holding your skirt up, your head held high, and a long, deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat, you begin to walk down the pathway towards the center of the garden where the wedding ceremony is about to be held.
While you keep getting further away from your friends, Poppy cannot find it in her to look away. Call it a gut feeling, but the poor squirrel feels uneasy about letting you go off on your own. But she doesn’t really have a choice now, does she?
She is no longer in the forest where she gets to call the shots, and this shady old man next to them is the one controlling the situation.
Poppy throws a side glance at the man who you called as Sir Noah. “So where are we supposed to go?”
The smile that Sir Noah gives her then brings chill through her tiny body. “Come with me.”
The group of little animals look at each other before they follow Sir Noah through a separate pathway. Here, the path is covered with a rougher kind of gravel, and the vines and hedges look more unkempt. The further they walk, the closer they huddle together in fear, while Sir Noah barely cares to soothe their worries.
Even his warm welcome earlier has shifted. He acts more cold with the animals and is even rough when he sends the royal guards away.
They continue to walk until an iron gate appears down the pathway. It looks a bit rusty, and Poppy has an odd feeling about all of this when she sees Sir Noah pulling out a key from his pocket.
The iron gate creeks heavily when he opens it, causing all the animals to grimace. “You can enter through this gate,” Sir Noah gestures toward the other side of the gate, and every inch of her muscles fight back to stop Poppy from walking forward.
“Where are you leading us to?” she snaps, and Sir Noah’s expression darkens.
“Are you insinuating that I’m separating you from the maiden?”
Brew, now shaking in fear, innocently whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, “But this isn’t the way to the royal garden.”
Your forest friends may not have had any experience visiting the castle, but they are wild animals from the forest, capable of telling the difference between the well-kept garden and the wild. Beyond the iron gate, the air flows differently. The grasses are thicker, and they can all smell the scent of the muddy lake from all the way here.
“You are sending us away from the castle,” Poppy growls, absolutely pissed off that the one that you have trusted to take care of your friends is doing this behind your back.
Sending them away from you, from the wedding, and back out there into the wild.
“What is going on? Is _____ even safe?”
“What are you planning to do?”
Poppy’s little friends begin to protest once they also sense that something is wrong, while the scowl on Sir Noah’s face deepens. “Oh, bollocks. You are too loud,” he snaps. All so suddenly, he lifts a massive shovel that seems to come out of nowhere and starts swinging it towards Poppy and her friends, forcing them to run towards the opened gate before they can get hurt.
“Now, shoo! Get out of here!” he shouts between each swing.
Once every single one of your little friends is out the gate, Sir Noah throws the shovel away and closes the iron gate. The sound of the lock being latched back in place pierces through the animals’ chests.
“Nooooo!”
“Blossom!”
Some of them begin snarling and growling, even if they are completely powerless against the tall, elegant, yet evil human before them.
“What about Blossom?” Brew asks while shaking, both in fear and rage, “What’s going to happen to our friend?”
Sir Noah leans down, showing his evil smirk as he peeks through from between the iron bars. “Don’t worry about your friend. We’ll make sure that she’s in good hands.”
With his evil laugh, Sir Noah turns away, leaving your frightened animal friends behind.
“Where is the Prince? I know that Prince Jungkook will never stand for this!” Poppy shouts in her last effort to threaten Sir Noah, only for the latter to ignore her words, and the sound of his laughter continues to echo further away before he disappears into the royal garden.
At the depth of the royal garden, you find yourself getting lost.
It turns out that this place is a maze, confirming your first suspicion when you first laid eyes on the winding pathway disappearing between the tall green hedges. The deeper you walk into the garden, the higher the hedges grow, and the thicker the trees and bushes around you become. The variety of flowers can’t help much to show you where you are, since everything looks the same no matter where you go.
While worrying about not being able to find your way, you also worry about your friends. You wish you had insisted on having Poppy come with you. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel so alone and she could help you find the way by using her sharp senses.
Will they be alright, you wonder as you think about your furry friends. But knowing that they are in the hands of Sir Noah gives you some peace of mind. Surely, the kind gentleman will be able to help and keep them safe. Right?
But speaking of Sir Noah—
I thought he said that someone would come to see me and show me the way. But where are they?
You have been walking for a while, yet there is nobody in sight. Not even a shadow of a person. It seems odd to think that the royal garden will be this empty, especially with a wedding happening this afternoon.
Turning at a corner, you find yourself at an opening between the maze. A small gazebo is placed at the center with wooden benches inside. Your exhaustion draws you towards it, and with your eyes focused on the benches that seem comfortable for you to sit on, you don’t notice it when a movement suddenly happens from nearby.
The rustling sound of the bushes is the only warning that you get before someone suddenly emerges from the shadows.
“Aaahh!” you scream in fear, while the figure before you quickly apologises.
“Oh, dear me. I’m so sorry, dearest,” an old woman’s voice speaks to you, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Eyes still widened in fear, you look at the person before you. Instead of a royal guard or a palace maid, you are met with an old woman wearing a long dress in an earthly colour under a worn-out cloak that hangs to the ground.
“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer with a nervous chuckle. “It’s a harmless mistake. Are you—are you from around here? I think I’ve gotten lost. I’m supposed to be at the wedding spot by now, but I haven’t seen anyone.”
The old woman smiles. “Oh, you poor thing. His Highness the Prince should’ve done better to prepare a guard for his bride,” she complains, tsk-ing her tongue and shaking her head with disappointment. “Maybe I can help guide you there? This old hag may not look it, but I do know my way around the castle like the back of my hand.”
Perhaps, it would have been best if you were wary of an unknown stranger suddenly offering help during dire times. Yet you are quickly reminded of your grandmother waiting back home and think nothing of the old woman who is offering her assistance so kindly.
“Please, if you may. I don’t want to be late for my own wedding,” you answer her with a relieved sigh.
“Excellent. Come along, then,” the cloaked woman turns and starts moving towards a different pathway with confident strides. You begin to believe that you are making a good decision then.
“You look nervous, dear. Is everything okay? I’m sure you're excited about the wedding, aren’t you?” she asks after you walk with her for a moment longer, surprising you that she notices.
Because you are nervous. Only that it has been suppressed under your worries while you were getting lost in the maze earlier.
“I actually am, if I must admit. Both nervous and excited,” you answer as the flutter in your chest grows wild all of a sudden. “To think that in a matter of minutes, the Prince Charming and I are going to—” your voice falters with nerves, “That we’re going to have our—” Thinking about what is going to happen causes your heartbeat to race, making it hard for you to breathe, to speak, that when you speak next, it almost feels like you are listening to yourself from a far distance away, “We are going to have our true love’s kiss.”
It feels too surreal to think that it is finally happening. Your dreams are coming true. Even saying it out loud doesn’t seem to make it real. Stunned at how your life is changing so rapidly, you come to a halt.
“I am most happy for you, my dear. But surely you can’t go into your wedding without going through the old tradition of the castle,” the old woman speaks again with joy—as if she is truly happy for you.
“The old tradition?” you ask, confused. Because you are quite sure that you know everything that you need to know about any kind of wedding tradition within the kingdom, and you are not sure if you are missing anything.
“Why—to visit the magic fountain, of course,” the woman explains nonchalantly. “All brides would go to the magic fountain and make their final wish, hoping for their happily ever after before they are to wed. The fountain has magic spells, you see, to make sure that your wish is to be granted and for everything to go well until the end.”
“My—wish?”
“Yes. Your wish,” she says. The smile that the old woman shows you as she turns to face you brings a shudder to your skin. It is an indescribable feeling. Yet you brush it off, telling yourself that maybe your nerves are acting up again. “Do you have a wish, sweetheart?”
“I wish,” you find yourself answering, “that we’ll live happily ever after.”
Because that is the only wish that would make sense, after all. Who wouldn’t want to find their happy ever after? While you are so close to having it, deep down, this is what you have been wishing for since you were a little girl and you want nothing to come your way from getting it.
“Then you should pray for your wish to make sure you’ll have it fulfilled, don’t you agree?” the old woman asks you in the most tempting way that you cannot find it in you to say no to. When she sees that you don’t seem convinced enough to follow her, she immediately adds, “It’s not too far from here, and it’ll take only a few seconds, so you won’t be late for your wedding. I promise.”
“You’re right,” you say to her, suddenly feeling hopeful again. “Besides, it would be wrong for me to skip a tradition on my special day.”
“Good girl,” she says. For a brief moment, you believe that her voice oddly changes. Yet you pay no attention to it as she already begins moving—suspiciously quickly, for an old woman wearing a long, heavy cloak—through the maze again, giving you no other choice but to follow her close behind.
It doesn’t take long before you emerge into another opening. This time, it seems like you have reached the far end of the garden, and right before your eyes stands the fountain that the kind old woman mentioned earlier.
“Here it is, the magic wishing fountain,” she says as she steps aside, allowing you to have a good look at the fountain.
And what you see right in front of your eyes leaves you completely lost for words.
“It’s—beautiful,” you muse softly, admiring the beautiful fountain that you have never once seen before.
The magic fountain is placed deliberately at what seems to be the heart of the royal garden, right where the sunlight is filtered through a canopy of emerald leaves, giving it a mellow, yet romantic atmosphere.
Surrounded by cobblestone pathways and vibrant flower beds, the water fountain stands elegantly between the wall of green around you. It is not made in a grand, ostentatious structure, but a modest creation which seems like it was naturally formed between the green hedges and lush trees, almost blending into the solid castle wall that spreads wide through the royal garden.
The base, crafted from gleaming white marble, frames a pool of crystal-clear water which ripples gently from the center. The intricate design of the marble stone makes it seem like a bed of white flowers emerging from the ground, delicate and sturdy at the same time, instead of a stiff rock which made up the small fountain your grandmother built back home.
The marble stone frame at the base goes all the way to the back, blending into the contrasting dark wall made of natural stones. You can vines of wild ivy growing from the top of the wall, extending down to the back of the circular pool filled with fresh water.
The dark wall rises to the very top, where crystal-clear water cascades down from a seemingly mysterious source. To your eyes, it looks like a small replica of the natural waterfall from the heart of the Amaranth Forest, your secret sanctuary that not even your grandmother has ever been to before.
The fountain's waterfall sparkles in a silver glow that looks ethereal to your eyes, casting a soft, shimmering light as it spills down to the pool of water underneath. The pool water also exudes a silvery luminescence that is almost blinding, yet you find yourself unable to look away.
There is something about the fountain that keeps drawing you in. A tightness forms in your chest while you are drawn to the mesmerising sight of the water fountain that looks more like it was crafted by nature instead of manmade. It seems to be reminding you of the forest, helping you forget where you are for a brief moment and taking away all of your worries at the same time.
The soothing sound of the trickling water feels entrancing, calming every nerve-ending, every tension in your body which has grown since you left home.
Standing this close to it, you can almost feel it, the magic that comes from the spilling water, beckoning you to reach out for it.
Too immersed in the water fountain and its spellbinding magic, everything around you seems to fade away. Every other sound becomes nothing but white noise, and the presence of the stranger beside you becomes nothing more but a shadow looming close by. You barely notice when she slowly begins to move away. Her voice starts fading in and out through your senses, alluring you in an oddly enchanting way.
Just like a spell would.
At times like this, Poppy wishes that she has wings instead of these flimsy paws.
She also regrets not having her winged friends—the twin sparrows, the doves, and the little hummingbirds—with them this afternoon so she could ask them for help. But they hadn’t been pleased to make the long trip to the castle, and someone had to stay behind to watch over your sick grandmother and help her around the cabin.
Yet she pushes aside those thoughts for now, focusing on climbing up the wild vines to reach the top of the outer walls of the castle instead. She is hoping that being high enough from the ground will help her find out where you are, to see if you are safe or if Sir Noah is putting you in harm’s way. Maybe she can also find Prince Jungkook and let him know what had happened.
Poppy has no idea what is going on and why things are turning this way. She can only hope that Prince Jungkook has nothing to do with this. However, she does have a suspicion about a certain someone who might have planned this whole thing up to ruin your and Prince Jungkook’s wedding.
The only thing that she can’t understand is — Why? Why would anyone do this?
Poppy is out of breath when she is finally at the top of the wall. Now that she is high enough, she can see the outer area where she and her friends had been discarded to — the small lake that is surrounded by trees in various odd shapes, unkempt bushes and grass, with growing wildflowers that are scattered in all visible corners that she can see from up high.
On the other side of the walls, the garden looks like a massive maze, but way more well-maintained and luxurious — except for the small area beyond the locked iron gate that seems to be neglected compared to other parts of the garden.
Yet Poppy doesn’t waste any more time idling by. She isn’t here to watch the scenery and marvel at it, after all. Once she manages to catch her breath and calm down, she takes one last glance and her other friends who are waiting for her on the ground and launches into a sprint, tracing the top of the wall with a steady run to find a better spot that will allow her to have a better sight of the inner garden.
It takes a while, but eventually, Poppy can see a glimpse of your wedding dress flashing between the tall hedges. Relieved, she starts cheering to herself. She has been separated from you for long enough that anything could have happened. She keeps going, finding the right spot with the perfect angle where she can draw your attention.
“_________! Look over here!” she keeps shouting while waving her paws in the air. “Please, Blossom!”
When she fails to get your attention, Poppy jumps onto the nearest tree, hoping to get higher. The new angle allows her to see what she failed to see earlier.
“Who is that?” she wonders out loud once she notices that you are not alone. But it isn’t a maid or a guard who is with you, as promised by Sir Noah when he sent you away.
Instead, all Poppy can see from here is an old woman wearing a cloak that may have seen better days. From this spot, she can also see the hag smiling wickedly while you have your attention on a fountain that looks to be a part of the garden, and you definitely cannot see what the hag is up to when she secretly moves to stand behind you.
“No! ________!”
The wall of falling water on the fountain looks so mesmerising that you cannot look away. It seems alluring, enticing you to come closer.
But you are frozen on the spot. And for a moment, you almost forget why you are here. The thought of your wedding no longer takes the front seat in your mind when you keep feeling like you are being pulled to the fountain.
“Now, go on then. Make your wish,” you hear the woman coaxing you. Once again, her voice seems to change, no longer sounding like the weak and soft voice that you first heard from her. But then again, it could have been your imagination, because her voice softens again when she speaks,
“Didn’t you say that you have a wish, my fair maiden? This is your chance to make your wish come true.”
“Yes,” you hear yourself speak as if you are no longer inside your body. “Yes, I do have a wish.”
Closing your eyes, you look deeper into your heart and mind, knowing what exactly you want to wish for before taking the next step. Clasping your hands together, you begin to make your wish.
“I wish—that we, Prince Jungkook and I, will live happily ever a—oh!”
All of a sudden, you feel a strong push. You barely open your eyes in shock when you see your entire world being tilted over, and you are suddenly plunged deep into the water. The faux waterfall continues to flow, covering your entire body as you continue to submerge into the bottomless body of water and the world around you fades.
Up on the surface, the cloaked hag bends over the fountain and releases a wicked laugh. She waves her arms around her and starts chanting a spell on the fountain, and a thick, dark green mist emerges from the ground, surrounding her like a cloud. The moment the mist fades away, the cloaked hag has disappeared, and in her place stands the mighty Sorceress, Queen Rosalyne.
Her laughter dies down, just as Sir Noah comes out of his hiding. Wringing his hands together, he looks between the fountain that is calming down—the ripples fading as if it hadn’t been disturbed by your entire being—and the smiling Queen who is silently celebrating.
“If I may ask,” Sir Noah speaks gently, afraid of how the Queen will react to his curiosity, “Where have you sent her, Your Majesty?”
A soft chuckle slips out of the Queen’s lips as her smile widens once more. “She is now off to the alter-world. To a place far, far away from here. A place where there are no happily ever afters.”
⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | Thank you for reading!
— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#k-vanity#bangtanwhq#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts fanfic#bts scenario#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bts x reader
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somth they don’t tell you about utah (and why would they but i digress). the sun is literally out until at least 9pm
#i love utah like the land that the state occupies so very much#so many mountains such a big beautiful sky so much green & so much fresh air#after wyoming it is quite simply the loveliest place i’ve ever been#AS FOR THE PEOPLE IN UTAH (and wyoming for that matter)……….#they make it so that i will never be able to live happily where i truly desire to be. which is here in utah#at least i won’t be able to whatsoever in the near future which. ugh.#to say it fucking sucks would be an understatement.#i’ve been envisioning a life for myself here for almost 4 years. meeting LGBT+ people here. getting excited about all the-#-opportunities i’d be able to take advantage of here.#&& these. anti trans bills just took all of that from me!!!!!#i know they’ve done. so much worse for other people. i understand and acknowledge that#AND… this is how they are negatively affecting me#not to mention. in all of the safe states. the cost of living is CRAZY!!!!#but liam and i could afford an apartment here together like. tomorrow.#so now we’re gonna have to struggle our whole FUCKING LIVES just to survive in a place that we (at least i) don’t want to be#just so we can keep you know. our fucking rights.#and i’ll only be able to visit my favorite place in the world for a couple weeks once a year (if i’m lucky)#keeping my wits about me the whole time. like. i don’t think mormons are particularly militant?#and i survived as an out trans faggot in texas. but still#it might go to the point where i can’t even visit here even relatively comfortably. that will be that in my eyes-#-the day that the world will have truly lost every ounce of its grace.
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In previous years I've tried uprooting small fir trees in my woods to use as Christmas trees, making sure to be gentle in the process and keep as much of their root system as I could, but when I replanted them in the woods later it just never worked. The trees didn't appreciate being treated like this, so last year I didn't even try replanting my Christmas tree and just fed it to the llamas (who did appreciate.)
I meant to do the same this year, and on my to-do list this week I had "cut a Christmas tree" and "get rid of 10m2 of broom plants" (this is on my to-do list in perpetuity. They grow so rampantly, if I didn't fight back there would be no pasture left.)
^ But then after I went and cut a bunch of horrible brooms I thought, well this is absurd, I'm going to kill a perfectly nice fir tree that I have no beef with, to have something green in my living-room for Christmas, when I could humiliate my plant nemesis by festooning its slain offspring with tinsel? I mean, shrubs are green. They fit the bill. I bet with a star on top they could pass for a Christmas tree.
At first I tried to cut a tall and large broom, then poke holes in its trunk with my drill to stick smaller broom branches in there like this: \o/ to give it a rough Christmas tree shape. It didn't work. Brooms as it turns out are extremely dense and fibrous and my drill didn't like drilling into them one bit.
So I lowered my expectations, and started gathering a big bouquet of younger brooms (the only positive aspect of broom invasiveness is that I have an infinite number of shrubs to experiment on. I cut a half dozen of them to try and drill holes into them and by the time I gave up, another two dozen had grown back in their place).
I tied up my broom bouquet into something vaguely reminiscent of a fir and, I mean, with a star, it sort of looks the part?
I had to do the tying-up part several times, because the pretty and festive golden string I initially used was too weak. This bouquet of broom branches may look placid and easygoing in photographs, but when tied together tightly, it is determined to free itself.
But I managed to tame it using hay bale string. It didn't look happy with its fate, but I mean, it's a broom shrub. Its only ambition in life is to conquer as much pasture territory as possible and add it to its broom empire. It does not want to be a decorative plant in a living-room.
Take any historical figure who was mainly known as a ruthless conqueror and try to picture turning him into a Christmas tree. He won't look happy about it.
I ended up making two Christmas Brooms, one for the greenhouse and one for my living-room. The greenhouse one was originally meant for the living-room, but it was made up of particularly obstinate Pampe-like branches and I was worried one of my cats would poke it and the "tree" would suddenly break its chains in an explosion of vegetal triumph and traumatise the cat.
It may look like a peaceful Christmas Yew in the below pic, but don't underestimate its very strong desire to free itself from even the tough hay bale string, which forced me to use my garlands to tie it up some more, wrapping them around the "tree" less loosely and festively than usual. But I put my biggest star on top and that means it looks like a Christmas tree. A Christmas tree with a restraining order.
This tree is held together with tinsel, threats, and Christmas magic.
In the dark and from afar you really can't tell it's a bunch of unruly invasive shrubs tied together <3 And here's the much thinner and therefore less angry version in my living-room:
It was tilting to the left somewhat worryingly so I put a heavy stuffed hedgehog at the bottom to stabilise it, and a mountain goat at the top to dissuade it. All hands on deck. They both look somewhat petrified, like they are begging the faux-tree to remain a tree for the duration of the holidays...
Thus ends my Christmas Broom journey. It was a bit of a pain to set up but at least an innocent fir out there got to escape a grim fate (devoured by llamas), and a small gang of invasive shrubs get to be looked at with approval and joy for the first time in their life. It's a win-win.
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addicted ♡ re2r!leon kennedy x reader
nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call the cops
word count - 2.9k
description - by the end of the summer, you're bound for college and your boyfriend leon is bound for his shiny new police officer job in raccoon city. knowing your relationship could be threatened by the distance, your need for each other has become insatiable.
tags/warnings - porn with plot, soft dom leon, car sex, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, mildly angsty, no use of (Y/N)
a/n - this was a request by my beautiful goth puppy wife chaos baby @nexysworld <333 special thanks to @dollfacefantasy for beta reading and believing in me and also being my momager <3
recommended listening - addicted by saving abel
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w; <3
-venus ♡
Young adulthood felt so scary and new and weird.
You and Leon had been dating since high school and now you were fully legal adults, figuring out what to do with your lives and pretending you would both fit together seamlessly in each other’s plans. Just weeks ago he had graduated from the police academy and you had until the end of the summer to spend as much time together as possible before he would move into the city to become an officer, and you would be moving states away to attend college.
You told each other you would visit as often as possible, that you would call every day, that as soon as you finished school you would move back to Raccoon City to be with him, or he would find a hiring police station near you to settle into, and you would live happily ever after.
But there was a silent, knowing melancholy that hung over you all the while, and it intensified every day. Neither of you wanted to address it, for fear of spoiling what little time you had left, so it just hung there unspoken as you clung to each other for dear life.
Leon knocked quietly on your door, hoping not to wake your roommates. It was a crisp, clear summer evening and the forecast indicated a meteor shower would be visible, so as soon as he finished up at work, he took the top off of his Jeep, loaded the back with blankets and made his way to you.
His heart softened at the image of you wrapped in a blanket, ducking out of your apartment to follow him out to the car. It was nearing midnight and you were already in pajamas, but it felt right that way. Comfortable.
Soon enough you were sipping slushies from the gas station, your sneakers kicked up on the dashboard and the wind rushing through your hair as Leon drove the two of you up the base of the Arklay Mountains. There was a little lookout tucked away less than five miles up, one you frequented together practically since you met. This lookout had seen numerous makeouts and unquantifiable hours of conversation, silly and stupid and serious and solemn.
The car slowed to a stop and Leon threw it in park, moving his seat back so he could get comfortable. His lips were stained pink with cherry slush as he looked over to you with a gentle smile.
“Pretty, huh?” He asked, watching as you stared up at the sky, awe-filled eyes searching every gap in the void for a shooting star. His warm, broad hand still rested on your thigh, thumb skimming over the soft fabric of your sweatpants in a gentle caress.
Relaxing into his touch, you nodded, looking over at him now. Your own lips and tongue were tinted blue and what remained of your slushie was cold in the palm of your hand. It was funny, you thought, that you’d driven all the way out here to watch the meteor shower but still, you couldn’t help but watch each other. The breeze blew warm and the radio played lowly.
“You’re pretty,” You replied quietly, playing with his fingers. Even having been together for years, he still managed to make you shy.
Leon let out a soft laugh and shook his head, his other hand coming forward to tip your chin up. “You’re pretty too,” He began, and you were just beginning to blush when he added, “Pretty corny.”
You threw your head back and groaned dramatically, swatting at his chest. “You’re pretty annoying,” You griped, but before you could continue your playful rant, he guided you back toward him and pressed his lips against your own, and just like always, you melted almost instantaneously.
At the start the kiss was quite tender, communicating a sense of longing and connection that you had only ever felt with him. His thumb traced your jaw while his grip tightened on your thigh in an affectionate little squeeze and you felt as though you could sit here with him forever, craning your neck over the center console of his Jeep just to kiss him beneath the stars, just to breathe him in, to be with him. Leon was your safe place and even the thought of being away from him sent you into withdrawals.
Your shaking hand came up to cradle the back of his neck, fingers curling into his golden hair as you took it upon yourself to deepen the kiss, wanting to get as much of him as you could. You wanted to horde him all to yourself, you wanted to sink into him and have him sink into you, to pause time and keep him there until you were sick of each other, though you knew no length of time together would ever feel like enough. Tongue swiping against his lower lip, you flattened your palm over the crotch of his jeans and massaged gently.
“F-Fuck, baby,” Leon grunted into your mouth, feeling all the blood rush to his cock in response to your touch and your languid kisses. “I’m gonna miss this…”
“Don’t,” You whispered, “I don’t wanna talk about it… Just wanna feel you…”
With a short nod of understanding he reconnected your lips, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants to dip a finger into your folds, delighted at the realization that you had gone without panties for the evening. He grinned into the kiss and slipped his tongue past you, the pads of his fingers quickly finding your clit with practiced ease.
Your lashes fluttered and your thighs shifted together, a quiet mewl of pleasure tumbling from you as you bucked up into his hand. With each passing second your heart was beating faster and you could feel the wetness collecting beneath his touch.
“Mm, my pretty baby,” He sighed out, the pad of his thumb flicking at your clit while his middle and index fingers petted at your hole. “Put your seat back. Let me taste you.”
There wasn’t a beat of hesitation as you reached down to recline your seat and push it back, and as you did so, Leon was making quick work of climbing over the center console to join you in the passenger seat. He gripped your thighs and pushed your legs up to rest on the dashboard as he yanked your sweatpants down in one swift motion, wasting no time smothering your plush inner thighs with kisses.
His pupils dilated by the scent of your cunt alone, and while he initially planned on taking his time with you, he just couldn’t help himself. Cramped down on the floor of his own passenger seat, Leon’s fingertips printed into your thighs as he dove forward to kiss and lap at your wetness, drinking you up with a deep, wanton need.
You tensed at the feeling, glittery heat washing over you before you relaxed into his mouth and brought one hand down to tug at his hair, encouraging him further. Your hazy eyes blinked open to look straight up at the sky, the cool night air foreign on your most intimate parts, but not unwelcome. It was quiet out, serene, private, as though you and Leon were the last two people on Earth. A shooting star cast across the sky in a blur, and you quickly realized that your wish was for you and Leon to be the last two people on Earth. Maybe that would be nice. At least your time together wouldn’t be so limited.
Losing Leon felt like losing a limb, even if he was only moving a few hours away to the other side of the mountain. Another shooting star streaked across the night sky, and you barely even noticed you had said something until you already finished speaking, “I wish you could stay… I feel like I can’t breathe without you…”
He hummed into your slick pussy, tongue swirling over your bud before pulling back just far enough to respond, “Not talking about it, baby, remember?”
Your face scrunched up a little bit as you realized your mistake and nodded, returning your focus to the glittering stars above you while your boyfriend sucked and licked at your cunt like he was starving. Soon enough his middle and index fingers were prodding at your hole, tracing the shape of you before sinking deep into your sticky, wet heat, your needy walls sucking him in.
What you didn’t know was that Leon had been focusing so much pleasure on you over the summer because it felt like making up for what he wouldn’t be able to do from thousands of miles away in the fall. You were the only thing he could bring himself to think about since roughly halfway to graduation at the police academy, when he was beginning to pester Raccoon City Police Department with his exemplary test scores and ever-growing resume– by the end of the year you would have both gone so far in separate directions, and long distance wasn’t something you ever excelled at. He knew that the day he left for Raccoon City, he would be effectively nailing the coffin shut.
So he bided his time by fucking you senseless almost daily, eating you out, pinning you down and driving you to tears with your toys, feeling every inch of you beneath his hands just so he wouldn’t forget. Every moan, every mewl, every whimper and sob and plea from you was like music to his ears, like pure heroin directly to the vein. Just like a drug, the better it felt in the moment, the more he knew it would hurt you both later on.
He felt you bucking into his nose and whining quietly, and every twitch of your muscles made his cock throb in his jeans. Leon couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you now.
Pulling back from your core, Leon moved quickly to undo his belt and shove his jeans down his thighs, desperate for some relief from the pressure and intoxicating desire. He was already dribbling precum just from the taste of you, a distinct wet patch growing at the front of his soft blue boxers that soon joined his pants down his legs, and shortly thereafter he was clumsily crawling over you in the passenger seat of his Jeep.
Almost like muscle memory, your arm fell behind you in a blind search for your purse in the back seat. You quickly retrieved it, digging through its contents as Leon’s hands shoved their way up your shirt to paw at your breasts, devouring your throat with kisses, making it a little difficult to maintain your focus. Finally you found what you were looking for, fingers coming into contact with that trusty little box… only to find it empty.
“L-Leon… mm, babe, hey,” You panted in an attempt to gather his attention. He hummed a barely noticeable sound of acknowledgment, but otherwise didn’t budge. You let him continue for a lingering second before breaking the news in a near whisper, “Leon, we’re out of condoms…”
He paused, breaths short and hips rutting into your own with need, his woefully hard cock grinding against your slit. While his body acted on its own in search of any friction he could get, his mind was spinning. He knew you weren’t on birth control and he knew a risk like this could ruin everything you’d both worked so hard for… but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
In fact, it sort of spurred him on.
He buried his face into your neck again and sucked a harsh, dark mark into your skin, a feeling of possessiveness taking root in him. “Then we’re gonna risk it,” He said definitively, his voice low and almost growling in your ear. “Just think about it, sweetheart… Maybe if you let me knock you up, you can forget all about college… I could just whisk you away to the city with me and take care of you for the rest of our lives…”
A rush of heat struck you like a moving car and knocked the air out of your lungs. You knew it would be stupid to throw away your scholarships and every dream you’d had for yourself on a whim, but it was admittedly a nice fantasy at the very least. Arching into the palm of his hand, you relented.
“F-Fuck, fuck… Fuck me, Leon, please, just fuck me…”
And just as you anticipated, he took you up on that. A cool breeze rushed through the open vehicle as he lined himself up at your hole and drove into you, his vision going white for a second just at the intensity of the pleasure he felt, being engulfed by you again. Your body was heaven on Earth to him, you were heaven on Earth to him.
He sheathed into you down to the hilt with a low groan, one hand clutching your hip and the other tangled in your hair. Leon tugged your head aside by your hair so he could speak directly into your ear, “You’re mine, you hear me? All mine. My girl, my wife, my pretty little baby mama…”
Each declaration was punctuated by a thrust of the hips, his swollen, leaking cock stuffed so deeply inside you that it was almost like you could feel him in your throat. Any and all concerns about your future, individually and as a couple, burned to ash in the far back of your mind as he fucked into with fervor. In this moment, Leon was all that mattered.
You quivered and writhed beneath him, your gummy insides pulsing and clenching around his length, and even with the top off the Jeep, the windows were beginning to accumulate a subtle fog on them. The two of you were hot and slick with sweat, drowning in the heat of each other and the late summer air.
“Leon,” You moaned, nails biting into his shoulders as you clung to him for dear life, for any shred of stability. “Make me yours…”
At this point, you couldn’t even tell if you were serious, and similarly to Leon, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were drunk on him and everything about him, the warmth of his skin, the pheromones that clung to his sweat, the strong grip of his hands and the sound of his breaths and the feeling of him railing into you like you were made for each other.
“Plannin’ on it, baby,” He said in response, words breathy and a smug grin tugging at his lips. He let go of your hair to plant his hand against the window as he increased his pace, plunging into you with ardor, his balls heavy and aching for release. “Gonna keep you all to myself, give you everything you ever wanted.”
The hand of his that was holding your hip just a moment ago was now wedging itself down between you to rub steady circles into your clit. You jolted at the contact, an incoherent cry tumbling from you, molten heat pooling up in your stomach. His earlier ministrations left both him and you especially sensitive and nearing your climaxes.
He could feel your peak approaching through the way you were convulsing around him, your wet cunt tightening and pulling him deeper with each stroke until he couldn’t even think anymore. Every last one of his senses was clouded– no, drenched with you. His pace stuttered just a little bit as he decided he couldn’t possibly hold back any longer.
With a loud, pleasured groan of your name, Leon stilled inside you as a torrent of cum flooded your waiting womb, warming you from the inside. What finally pushed you over the edge into your own release was Leon’s sly fingers tugging and pinching at your bud with expertise.
“G-God, fuck,” You sobbed, breaking skin as your nails raked down his strong back and gripped him as close to you as you could manage. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you coated his cock with your release, leaving behind a creamy white ring of arousal at the base of his softening sex.
Silence fell over the car as you clung to each other, broken only by your gasping breaths for oxygen. Leon buried his face into your shoulder and kissed the sizable hickie he’d left you earlier, still fresh and stinging.
“Did so good for me,” He huffed into your ear, nibbling at your lobe. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Eventually he pulled out, a sticky mixture of your juices dribbling out of your spent hole and down to the leather seat below you. As Leon climbed less than gracefully out of the passenger seat with his pants around his knees, you were both startled by the unexpected sight of headlights traveling up the very same mountain road that led you here, and the vehicle was pulling into the lookout.
“Shit,” Leon grumbled, rushing to fix his pants and toss you a blanket from the back seat to cover up with, given your sweatpants were lost somewhere on the floor of the car.
The intruding vehicle pulled up right behind Leon’s Jeep, headlights shining into the cabin as a person got out of the driver’s side… with a flashlight. Of course it had to be a cop.
Leon took a deep breath before rolling his window down with a polite smile. “Evening, officer… Nice night, isn’t it?”
#venustext#sintext#summit of beauty and love#resident evil#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x you#nexy !!!
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The Arrangement (4) - Solution
Chapter summary: Wyll comes bearing a solution to your predicament with Astarion... what could possibly go wrong?
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Word count: 3.5k
Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3
Snow.
Why was it snowing in Baldur's Gate this time of the year?
It didn't make any sense whatsoever.
But there was no denying it when the cold yet tender caresses of snowflakes began to spread across the swell of your cheeks.
A distant voice was calling out to you, but you could only smile blissfully at the warm embrace of its familiarity.
It was as the winter sun that insisted on tearing through storm clouds rolling over the majestic Baldurian mountains: powerful enough to melt the frost away, and unforgiving once its rays shined out the brightest.
The faint scent of bergamot laced with rosemary surrounded you like a soft blanket.
You did recognise that scent… and your smile immediately dropped.
The voice got louder and louder, but your feet were now moving on their own until you were at the edge of a cliff.
Then you plummeted without looking back.
An agonising scream reverberated through your mind like a knife in the dark, twisting and prodding until you jolted awake at once.
Your eyes snapped open and you saw Astarion's face first and felt his icy fingers on your face next.
As a surge of panic and dread took over, you instinctively slapped his hand away.
“What are you doing?”
“You were squirming and screaming.”
You quickly propped yourself on your elbows, realising he sat at your feet, brows furrowed and an unreadable look on his face.
Another nightmare? But it hadn't started off like that. They rarely did.
As your eyes roamed along the length of your body, it dawned on you that his scent had made it all the way to your subconscious because his cloak was now covering you.
Noticing your realisation, he cleared his throat. “You were shivering in your sleep. You humans can be so… frail.”
You wish you could hate him. You truly wish you could loathe him with your entire being, especially after your earlier exchange.
It would make it so much easier to overcome the longing feelings you had for him.
But, it would seem, he was bent on making it harder for you and this bond wasn't easily severed on a whim.
Instinctively, you pulled the fabric of his cloak snuggly around your neck as if it would be enough to keep him at bay.
“I would have offered my body heat, if I had any left,” he said with a shrug, pulling one knee up against his chest.
Right.
Vampire.
No body heat unless he was well fed.
“Did I… say anything?”
The last thing you needed right now was for your subconscious to betray you by having you mumble out his name in a suggestive manner.
The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Hard to make out anything intelligible in the midst of all the grunts and moans.”
“Good.”
Hold on… grunts and… moans?
“Oh please, don't look so horrified,” he said with a click of his tongue. “A much welcome distraction considering how tedious it's been in here.”
Typical.
A scowl settled on your face as you shifted across the mattress, pulling your knees up together and increasing the distance between you two.
The faint earthy and citrusy scent of bergamot enveloped you, and your eyes fluttered shut.
For someone who was bound to live in the shadows and prowl the streets after the sun went down, Astarion surely carried the fragrance that resembled Summer days the most.
You didn't feel cold even in this damp-filled cell.
It wasn't even related to the cloak itself, as it wasn't thick enough to make much of a difference.
No.
It was purely an unavoidable consequence of being near him.
Even in his icy coldness, Astarion brought out warmth that would put the most fierce of flames pale in comparison.
“What's on your mind?”
His purring voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you blinked the tiredness away, ignoring his question. “What time is it?”
“Judging from how the guards are way past the threshold of sobriety… my guess is that it's close to midday.”
You slowly dragged yourself up into a sitting position, heaving a deep sigh. “I just want to get out of here.”
“Well, we can.”
“Astarion.”
He turned his head to you. “What? You are a powerful sorcerer. They wouldn't stand a chance.”
It was a proper observation, and it surely wasn't an attempt at stroking your ego. He had seen enough of your abilities to know you could have metal melt if you so desired.
But still… “I'm sure Wyll will come soon.”
He let out a sound of pure discontent. “Yes. Your prince charming shall be here soon to save the day.”
You simply ignored him.
And Astarion hated being ignored.
So, naturally, he made sure he had your attention.
“I would just like to point out that–”
His voice died in your ears as the sound of steady paces echoed across the halls with salutes being exchanged.
You immediately lunged forward, leaving his cloak behind before pressing your face against the bars and gripping them tightly.
“Excuse me? I was talking to you.”
Astarion's outrage would have to be put on hold for the time being.
You recognised that voice and that level of respect mimicked by the guards outside.
“Wyll!”
Astarion joined your side in an instant, as the Grand Duke came into sight.
His face was heavy and he didn't bear a reassuring smile. It was such a foreign look on him, it gave you whiplash.
Your hopeful smile eventually dropped as he approached you.
“My friends, what an unfortunate turn of events.”
He placed one hand atop yours and you nodded eagerly. “Please. We are not guilty of whatever they are accusing us of.”
His young face eased slightly. “So you haven't committed any crime?”
“That's the general definition,” Astarion chimed him, visibly annoyed.
“Why am I not surprised you are involved in this?” Wyll retorted, but his words – unlike Astarion's – held no ill-intent.
“Oh, I thought you were aware that I'm the root of all evil in Baldur's Gate?” he said, voice dripping with cutthroat sarcasm. “Your psychic powers must be below par as of late, Wyll.”
You shot him a death glare, wanting nothing more than to cast Silence on him.
However, Wyll let out a loud and heartfelt laughter that had the other prisoners whine and rattle against the bars of their enclosure.
“Charming as always – even under such dire circumstances.”
Astarion's lips held the fakest smile ever. “Glad I could be of entertainment.”
“Especially considering that I'm most likely your only way out of this.” Wyll said in a tone that prickled the hair at the nape of your neck.
Great.
Astarion and his never-ending ability to annoy people beyond oblivion.
“Yes, I'm sure Circus of the Last Days is one clown short,” you said maliciously, side-eyeing him. “Maybe he'd prefer it over there.”
He dreaded clowns in a way that was almost comical, and your remark was enough to silence him at once, but not without having him shoot daggers with his intense stare.
Wyll cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on you. “Listen. I believe in your innocence, my friend.”
Your heart soared high.
“However…”
Ah, yes. There was always an inconvenient ‘however’ somewhere.
“I must look into this matter further, as the Council of Four demands. If it were solely up to me, I would have you out of here right now.”
Your heart plummeted to the ground at once.
“But it is up to you. You have the final word,” Astarion pointed out.
“Be it as it may, I cannot favour acquaintances when an alleged crime is committed.”
Astarion scoffed. “Demoting us from friends to acquaintances in under thirty seconds. My, my… and you worried I was the power-hungry one of the group.”
Wyll placed his hand on your shoulder and you glared intensely at him. “Give me a few hours, and I will see to it that you get out of here.”
He wasn't being deceitful in the slightest. Wyll's sense of righteousness and moral compass were nearly always fine tuned.
Besides, you had nothing to fear.
Justice was on your side.
But there was clearly someone out there who wasn't, and that made your skin crawl.
Which begged the question… “Why do you believe in our innocence? I mean… I was expecting an interrogation at the very least.”
He gave you a sincere smile of affection. “My dear friend, I know you well enough to doubt your words. This crime doesn't suit you. Besides, across those weeks together, I was able to find hope where there was none. You joined forces with the unlikeliest of allies and turned on potential ones to help us all out – to help Baldur's Gate.”
A looming sense of discomfort was brewing deep inside as his words hit you.
It wasn't so much that he was exaggerating or singing praises that you were undeserving of, but you would have never made it that far on your own.
Not without him.
Or even without Astarion.
“This city is indebted to you,” he went on, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I am sure this misunderstanding will be resolved soon, but I'm afraid protocols and bureaucracy must still be addressed properly.”
You reluctantly nodded, knowing deep down that he was right.
His position was one that came with great responsibility, and it would be folly of him to not act in accordance to what was expected of him as Grand Duke.
“If you wish, I could have you moved to an overground cell – just in case Astarion is being too overbearing,” he quickly added.
“No, no. I reckon I can withstand a few more hours in his presence before losing my sanity,” you chuckled at him.
“You do know I can hear you, don't you?” Astarion said with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“I shall have some fruit sent over.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded and turned his head to Astarion. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“Yes, you can get me out of here.”
Wyll pursed his lips firmly together.
You hit with a ‘be nice’ scowl, which had him heave a deep sigh. “Alright, alright. I don't require any blood just yet. Our dear friend was kind enough to let me feed on her a few days ago.”
“Right.”
Wyll wasn't amused in the slightest and you couldn't blame him. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, and he was a monster hunter at heart, which only fueled his dislike for Astarion boasting about it.
With a final nod, he took his leave even as prisoners banged on the bars of their cells in a failed attempt at taunting him.
Once again, you pressed your forehead against the bars. “We're getting out of here soon.”
Astarion was leaning on his side against the door, eyeing you. “You know, darling… I do wonder if you're trying to convince me or yourself at this point.”
You didn't reply.
But it was probably both.
“So… who do you think got us into this mess?”
“Oh, I do so love guessing games,” he said, securing the cloak around him before sitting down on his mattress. “Well, I'm sure our list of foes didn't thin out even with the heroic display to save the city.”
Good point.
You took a hungry bite from an apple. “Hmm… it'd be less of a nuisance to just kill us, no?”
“If by ‘us’ you mean ‘you’, then sure. I don't die easily, as I know you're aware, darling.”
Another good point, even though a wooden stake might beg to differ.
“Maybe it really is just one big misunderstanding.”
“... but?”
You glared at him with furrowed brows. “But what?”
He shrugged. “Isn't there always a ‘but’?”
Your mind had begun to wander into other possibilities, each new one more alarming than the previous.
It was particularly daunting to wonder whether this Ava woman had had a hand in this.
Should you even bring it up to him? Maybe.
“Well?” He pressed, crimson eyes never leaving yours. “I know you have something on your mind, so feel free to share with the audience, darling.”
You hesitated at first, unsure it would be the wisest choice. He was clearly fond of her, but you just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that she could be up to something.
Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.
Maybe you were simply allowing your protective feelings over Astarion to get in the way and cloud your judgment.
Maybe she was nothing more than a mere courtesan and not some scheming criminal.
Besides… what reason would she have to frame both of you for this?
The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded, so you chose to keep it to yourself.
“I'm inclined to believe we were set up, but I don't know by whom,” you eventually said, not intending on passing out accusations just yet.
His eyes narrowed. “You're not being truthful.”
Thrown for a loop, you blinked. “You think I'm lying?”
“I know you're lying.”
You gave him a sour glare. “I suppose it takes one to know one.”
He actually genuinely laughed at your remark. “Touché, my dear.”
One didn't easily win the title of charlatan over nothing, after all.
He'd spent decades honing his skill in the art of deception, which had you falling for his sweet lies so easily when you two first met.
Not wanting to go down that road, you shove the memory aside and focused on the apple in your hand instead.
Silence settled heavily around you, only broken by your occasional bites.
The door to the prison hall swung open all of a sudden, but neither of you shifted.
It was probably nightfall by now, and you had gotten used to the intrusive sounds that erupted from time to time.
Hurried steps caught your attention and you turned to find Wyll by the bars.
You scrambled out of bed as fast as a lightning bolt with Astarion following suit.
“You're getting out of here.”
An overwhelming wave of relief washed over you and you could nearly cry of joy.
“Finally. Took you long enough.” Astarion said.
Wyll's face dropped slightly. “It is not without compromise, I'm afraid.”
Oh.
It was to be expected, really…
“The council has agreed to further the investigations without the need of imprisonment, so long as you stay confined to your place for the time being,” he went on, as two Fists joined his side, carrying your belongings. “With two guards stationed outside at all times.”
“Essentially treating us like criminals, then,” Astarion scoffed, clearly put out.
“You are suspected of being criminals,” Wyll pointed out. “I am quite certain it will only be for a couple of days, so do not fret.”
It seemed like a fair deal and, at this point, you would give anything to get out of this prison.
“Wait – hold on. What do you mean ‘your place’?”
Wyll glared at him in confusion. “Aren't you staying with the rest of the group?”
“No?” He pulled out a face of disgust as if Wyll had just implied he had been offered to share an accommodation with a pack of stinky gnolls.
“I did invite him – more than once.”
“And I declined every single time.”
You rolled your eyes.
As much as you had earlier wished to part ways with Astarion after that heated argument, you were more than willing to move past that for the greater good.
“Well, now would be an opportune time to accept the invitation,” Wyll said, motioning for the guards to unlock the door. “You will be escorted back to your place and await further instructions.”
Grabbing your belongings, you hurried past the door to walk alongside Wyll while both guards flanked you.
“What about my clothes? I need a couple of changes, then,” Astarion inquired as he expertly fastened the dagger holsters around his thigh and waist. “I'm staying at The Blushing Mermaid.”
He did have an interesting set of priorities, given the current predicament…
“We will have someone fetch it for you.”
“Ask for a woman named Ava. She will know what to pack.”
Wyll nodded in silence.
You nearly scoffed, but managed to disguise it as a throaty cough, which earned Wyll's attention.
“I'm afraid these dungeons are riddled with dust and present less than ideal conditions, my friend.”
You cleared your throat with a faint remorseful smile, already feeling guilty for your deception.
The torch-lit tunnel extended as far as the eye could see, and it seemed like forever before you finally made it topside.
The barracks were buzzing with whispers and intense glares, with each Flaming Fist saluting the Grand Duke as he made his way through the building.
A quick glance through the window and you realised the sun had already set.
Convenient for Astarion.
Wyll's feet came to a halt before the closed shut and sturdy double door.
“I am terribly sorry that we had to meet again under such grim circumstances, but I trust this matter will be resolved soon.”
You gave him a warm smile of gratitude. “Thank you for this, Wyll. I'm sure you were met with resistance.”
He chuckled. “Quite the resistance, but I believe being power-hungry does hold its advantages, right, Astarion?”
“I suppose.”
There was not a single part of Wyll that was power-hungry. He had earned the title and his position within Baldur's Gate elite. No one was more deserving of it.
“A ‘thank you’ would suffice, but I'm guessing that's as close to it as I'll get,” Wyll said in amusement as Astarion frowned.
You gave him a fleeting hug, earning some disapproving glares – including from Astarion.
“Thank you, Wyll.”
“You are most welcome. We'll talk soon.”
Parting ways, you stepped into the night with both Flaming Fists following closely behind.
“Well, I'm glad that's been dealt with.” You said in an attempt to break the layer of silence.
“Hardly. I'm merely hopping from one prison to another,” he muttered bitterly. “But I suppose it could be worse.”
As you hurried along the busy city streets, you noticed the inquisitive glares from passers-by. After all, being escorted by two guards often meant trouble.
“Come to think of it, this is entirely your fault.”
Your head snapped at him. “What?”
He nodded. “If you hadn't cast Sleep, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.”
You scolwed. “Seriously, Astarion? You were about to gut him open!”
“It would have been a better fate than what he actually deserved,” he bit back. “But that damned swirly pink spell drew too much attention.”
You shouldn't have been surprised that he was lashing out, but it still annoyed you to no end that he refused to acknowledge his part in this.
“You have some nerve to pin this on me when you were the one causing a ruckus.”
He was glaring at you like you'd just grown a third arm. “Remind me again who yelled out as they were casting a spell.”
“I didn't yell–”
One of the guards behind you cleared his throat, effectively silencing you.
Arguing with Astarion was about as pointless as fighting the sun from rising. He always had to have the final word.
You sighed. “This is pointless.”
“Agreed.”
As your house came into view, you began to make out a couple of figures by the door.
Gale and Shadowheart.
You heard Astarion immediately scoff once you were close enough. “Please be quiet.”
Gale frowned slightly. “What? I didn't utter a single word.”
“Oh, I know. I'm just practicing this line for the future.”
Shadowheart intervened before the wizard could. “Wyll informed us of what happened. Are you well?”
You nodded. “Within reason.”
She embraced you tightly. “I am sure this will all be resolved soon.”
“A very bizarre event, no doubt,” Gale said, patting your back affectionately. “This city is crawling with the most vile of creatures, indeed.”
The three of you made your way inside, and a dramatic cough was heard.
You turned to see Astarion standing by the doorway, and then it dawned on you that he would need a literal verbal invitation in order to walk in.
“Oh! Right… sorry… you may come in, Astarion.”
He didn't need to be told twice, taking careful steps at first just in case.
Upon concluding it was safe to continue, he made his way into the kitchen area, taking in his surroundings in silence.
Lae'zel was nowhere to be found, and you reckoned she might have gone out to hunt in the surrounding Baldurian woods.
“Your belongings are upstairs, already,” Shadowheart informed him as she leaned against a wood pillar. “I wasn't sure how to make a vampire abode feel more homely in such short notice, so you'll have to excuse the lack of frivolous and decadent decoration.”
He waved a hand dismissively, heading towards the staircase. “No need to concern yourself with it, darling. I'm not staying for long.”
You watched him round the corner and disappear into the hall.
“Your room is to your left, Astarion,” you called after him.
His footsteps halted and you smiled in amusement.
“Ah – yes. I was merely taking a look,” he said, reappearing at the top of the staircase again with a disapproving look on his face. “I must say… awful and dull decoration. This has Gale written all over it.”
You reckoned having Astarion stay over would prove more of a challenge than you had initially anticipated.
Series Masterlist
Sharing a house with Astarion under such circumstances.... what could possibly go wrong 😌
Next chapter: Confrontation
I don't keep taglists, so feel free to subscribe to it on Ao3 to get alerts 🩷
#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion x female tav#astarion smut#astarion x female reader#astarion x you#astarion x mc#astarion#astarion bg3#astarion x f!tav#astarion x f!reader#astarion angst#astarion scenario
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MASTER LIST OF INSTRUMENTAL PLAYLISTS FOR WRITING (OR FOR STUDYING, MAKING ART, ETC.)
I find that the perfect writing playlist can GREATLY enhance the writing experience. Even if it doesn't make your writing "better" (which it can, since it helps writers with visualization, tone, and mood), it can definitely make your writing flow easier!
Personally, words distract me when I'm writing, either by breaking my train of thought or by getting me too into the music so that I'm jamming out to my favorite tunes instead of writing.
Therefore, I've amassed a vast knowledge of instrumental music across a variety of media over a course of many years. Now here I am, deciding to share all of them with you!
Maddy’s Favorite Instrumental Songs
Just like the title says. All of the best pieces of instrumental music I've ever heard, compiled together with no regard for genre. It can be a bit of a whiplash playlist, but some amazing recs in there that I just like listening to in my free time, not just for writing.
Maddy’s Ultimate Instrumental Playlist
A mega compilation of 550+ fantastic instrumental music from a variety of media and genres. Kind of a whiplash playlist if you put it on shuffle, but is a great start for anyone looking to find what kind of instrumental music they like!
Playlist Groupings in Order: Independent instrumental songs, live action movies, animated movies, animated tv shows, live action tv shows, video games.
Maddy's Instrumental for Sleep
Some more chill vibe instrumental for people who either A) want to sleep or B) want a relaxed playlist that won't distract you with loud volume and sudden changes in tempo or melody.
MISC PLAYLISTS:
you're a haggard adventurer discovering worlds beyond your wildest dreams
Music to inspire wonder and wanderlust, the kind of feeling you get when you finally reach the end of a mountain hike and see the world stretching out before you.
you're a hero who's just lost everything
Basically the most sad instrumental music I could find. A playlist for grief and revenge.
more beneath the cut :)
you're a cowboy in the great American West
Cowboy instrumental for all of your ambient and writing needs. Or if you just really want to feel like a cowboy.
you're a divine witness
Epic choir music (no English). Most religious, some not, but all kind of have that eerie sacred vibe. I listen to this while writing my book about angels and demons.
you’re a scholar uncovering the secrets of the universe
Great chill study playlist! Has the kind of same exploratory/discovery type feel as the haggard adventurer playlist, but more dark academia.
you’re a villain plotting to take over the world
Villain-coded instrumental! Sinister, dark, and/or unsettling.
you're an academic weapon
HIGH BPM STUDY PLAYLIST! Keeps me focused, hyped, and helps me work faster!
you're an ancient god
Playlist that gives an ancient/eerie vibe. But some ancient gods are merciful- so there are some upbeat songs for wonder and awe!
you're falling in love
Music that encapsulates what I think falling in love feels like. Very beautiful, tender, and uplifting instrumental.
you're fighting the final battle
Intense and epic battle music for all of your fight-scene-writing needs! Good for getting shit done, but isn't necessarily restricted to high BPM like the academic weapon playlist.
you're having a tea party
Refined instrumental for a tea party, including classical, big band, and some miscellaneous goodies.
you're in a chase scene
Music for writing chase scenes. Pretty good hype music, too. Includes soundtracks from classic chase scenes in popular media!
you're in the medieval times
Medieval-sounding music for all of your ambient and/or writing needs.
you’re in your childhood room. the door is open a crack. people talk softly downstairs.
A playlist dedicated to nostalgia, to the feeling of lying in bed with your nightlight on after being too tired to stay awake at your family get-together. Could either make your day or break your heart lmao
you're the happiest you've ever been
Lighthearted instrumental meant to lift your spirits! A playlist dedicated to the joys of the little things.
#writing#writers#writeblr#booklr#creative writing#studying#writing playlist#roleplay#writing tips#writing advice#writing help#writing inspo#writing inspiration#inspo#music#music rec#instrumental music
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ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?
ways to help, daily click, do not support neil
ellie williams x reader
a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think
tags: @astralnymphh
masterlist
…
once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…
okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.
“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.
this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.
many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.
but you were special.
you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.
she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.
you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.
doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.
she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.
once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.
so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…
“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“
“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”
“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.
you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”
she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”
“very.” you respond, smiling.
♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧
a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.
then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.
#bunnie can speak? ☆#ellie williams#・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie#ellie williams x reader#bun’s asks ꕤ#bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐#ellie williams headcanons#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x y/n#wlw fanfic#sapphic#fanfic writing#wlw fantasy#wlw imagine#princess au#beforeimdeceased#© abbysvictim#lesbian fanfic#wlw writing#wlw fiction#tlou au#tlou fanfic#tlou headcanons#ellie williams headcannons#ellie williams the last of us#tlou fic#wlw pining
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Just About Snapped
Summary: Gale stands up to Mystra when she summons him to the Stormshore Tabernacle and is so jacked up on Mountain Dew after that public sex ensues. (he’s not drinking mountain dew i’m just quoting talladega nights)
Rating: Explicit 18+
Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female)
AO3 Link: Here
Warnings: Public Sex, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Porn with Plot, inappropriate use of Arcane Lock, time works the way I say it works, let me live, You've heard of Astarion fucking on his own grave, but have you considered: Gale fucking on an altar dedicated to Mystra as a fuck you?
When Elminster showed up the moment they walked out of Sorcerer’s Sundries with The Annals of Karsus in Gale’s pack, Fallon had to laugh. The goddess of magic had all but ignored Gale for more than a year, and now she was sending Elminster on her behalf twice in the span of a fortnight; and this time, she wanted to speak to Gale herself.
“How could she possibly know we read a book?” Fallon asked Gale once Elminster departed.
“Trust me, by even opening the book containing the type of magic The Annals of Karsus contains, we basically set off a giant firework that spelled out ‘look at me, Mystra!’ Trust me. She knows.” Gale explained bitterly.
Fallon reached for Gale’s hand, squeezing it softly. “If you don’t want to go see her, we don’t have to. You don’t owe her anything, Gale.”
“No, this conversation is long overdue. On both sides. It shouldn’t take long.” He sighed.
According to Gale, time worked differently in the Outer Planes, and he should only be gone for a matter of seconds, even if his conversation with Mystra lasted hours for him.
That was almost three hours ago.
Had Mystra manipulated time so however much time passed for her and Gale, also passed here, on the mortal plane of existence? Honestly, with how vindictive she was, Fallon wouldn’t put it past Mystra to do something like that. The goddess had been watching them, so clearly she knew that Gale was romantically involved with someone else. Hells, she’d probably known since the moment Fallon and Gale played in the Weave together in the early days of their journey together. After all, Fallon hadn’t been subtle by imagining kissing Gale. Was she such a bitter scorned ex-lover that she would drag this out, just to fuck with Fallon as well?
Somehow, Fallon wouldn’t put it past her.
“What if she’s done something to him?” Fallon wondered aloud frantically as she began to pace in front of the statue of the goddess she did not serve.
“I highly doubt that,” Astarion mused as he picked at some dirt beneath his fingernails. “Based on what the old codger said, it sounds like she needs something else from Gale since he refused to blow himself up.” The vampire was sitting on the floor of The Stormshore Tabernacle beneath the statue of Selune next to Shadowheart, a position they’d taken after Gale had been gone for five minutes. That was about how long it took for them all to realize that even if Gale thought the conversation shouldn’t take long, Mystra might have other ideas.
They’d been waiting for Gale to come back from the Outer Planes for so long that the sun was setting on Baldur’s Gate. Another half hour went by, and Astarion and Shadowheart had begun looking at each other skeptically. Fallon wouldn’t put it past the two of them to be communicating mind to mind via the tadpole connection. She stopped pacing, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at the cleric and the vampire. “If you want to leave, you can. I’ll be fine.”
If Gale didn’t come back soon, Fallon was not going to be fine, not even close, but if hearing her say that she would be fine was the permission her friends needed to assuage their guilt for wanting to leave, then Fallon would tell them what they wanted to hear. Shadowheart looked at Fallon, a soft look in her eyes. “He knows where to find us, Fallon. I’m sure he’ll come straight home once–”
“I’m not leaving.” Fallon interrupted, her tone short and she glared at her friend for even suggesting it.
“Let it go, Shadowheart. She’ll come back when she’s ready. With or without Gale.” Fallon hated the look on Astarion’s face, because he clearly thought Gale wasn’t coming back. Not tonight, and perhaps not at all. Fallon frowned as she took a seat beneath the statue of the goddess of magic.
“I’m not leaving.” She repeated simply. Astarion raised his hands in defeat, and Shadowheart shook her head, but the two of them left all the same.
Another half hour went by.
What if Astarion was right? What if Gale wasn’t coming back? Had they made a huge mistake by heeding Elminster’s request and coming here? From everything Gale had told Fallon about the archmage, she had no reason to believe that he would willingly lead Gale into a trap. However, there was every reason to believe that Mystra wouldn’t send Elminster to fetch Gale under false pretenses just to get Gale to the Outer Planes.
It was dark outside when the cleric overseeing the temple approached Fallon. “I am departing for the evening, madam. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like, but it will be just you and the gods until your friend returns.” He offered Fallon a gentle smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. A warm feeling flooded Fallon’s body as a soft golden light emitted from the cleric’s palm.
“A blessing, to keep you safe while you wait.”
Somehow Fallon doubted she would be attacked here, but if she were, it wouldn’t be the strangest place the Absolutists ambushed her recently, so she was grateful for the blessing all the same. Fallon nodded in thanks to the cleric as she pulled her knees in towards her chest and rested her head on them as she wrapped her arms around herself as he used his magic to dim the lights. If she was going to be here all night, she might as well try to get some sleep.
Within minutes of the cleric’s departure, there was a flash of purple light and Fallon’s head snapped up. Gale, her sweet, wonderful Gale, came tumbling out of a portal with such force that Fallon couldn’t help but wonder if Mystra had physically shoved him out, or if he’d been leaning against something and she moved it out from under Gale to send him back. At the sight of him, relief flooded her body and Fallon let out a strangled sob as she shot to her feet and ran to embrace Gale.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m here,” Gale said softly into her hair as he held her tightly, running one of his hands over the back of her head as he held her tight with the other. “I’m here.”
Fallon lifted her head to look at Gale, searching his eyes for an explanation. “What the hells happened, Gale? You were gone all day.”
His voice was bitter as he kissed her forehead. “I know, Mystra told me as much before sending me back. I hate that she took out her ire with me on you like that.”
Fallon looked up at Gale, refusing to let him go. “I had a feeling it might not be going well based on how long you were gone.”
“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Another bitter laugh left Gale’s mouth. He kissed the crown of Fallon’s head and rested his chin atop it as she rested her cheek against his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you she seemed more upset about my relationship with you than she was about our plans for The Crown of Karsus?”
Fallon scoffed and poked his side playfully. “Be serious, Gale.”
“I am being serious, Fallon,” Gale squirmed as she poked a slightly ticklish spot, and it gave him a reason to pull back from her enough to look at Fallon as he continued. “You’ve shown me that love isn’t transactional, or something one has to constantly prove they are worthy of receiving, and because of that, I’ve openly defied Mystra’s direct marching orders. Twice. First by not detonating the orb at Moonrise Towers, and again the moment I decided the Crown of Karsus was not Mystra’s to control. The bruises I left on her ego are far more devastating to her than the thought of my becoming her equal will ever be.”
Fallon reached up and cupped the side of Gale’s face in her hand. “This goes without saying, but I am very proud of you for standing up to her. I don’t think the Gale Dekarios that I pulled out of the broken sigil in a rock would have been able to. You’ve come a long way, Gale.”
Gale smiled as he covered Fallon’s hand with his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned in and kissed her the way she’d imagined in the Weave the night he’d invited her to play with magic early on in their courtship: slowly at first, then with passion. Fallon sighed into his mouth as she parted her lips for him and slid her tongue against his lower lip, and he responded in kind with a soft moan as his hands gripped her hips. They were moving, and when Fallon felt a hard surface against her backside she broke the kiss to take in her surroundings. Gale had maneuvered their bodies in such a way that Fallon was now leaning against the edge of the altar dedicated to none other than Mystra herself. A sly grin spread on her face as she turned her attention back to Gale, and she was met with an equally devilish loon in her wizard’s eyes.
Fallon did not need to ask or peer into his mind with the connection their tadpoles afforded them to know what Gale wanted, or what he intended to do, and Fallon was suddenly very grateful she’d chosen to wear the deep blue grecian wrap dress that Figaro at Facemaker’s had talked her into purchasing. The idea of potentially being caught shot a thrill through Fallon’s body, but thanks to the dress, at least this way some of her modesty would be preserved if that ended up being the case.
Gale’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck and across her shoulder, and Fallon braced herself on the altar’s edge with her hands as she sighed approvingly. His exploration of her body continued south as Gale pressed his face directly between her breasts to kiss her sternum while one of his hands deftly slipped beneath the fabric to toy with her breast before pushing the fabric to the side just far enough for Gale to capture her exposed flesh in his mouth. Fallon moaned as she felt Gale’s tongue roll over the peaked bud before he bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue once more. There was little urgency in the way Gale moved as his other hand slipped between her legs and he pressed his fingers against her core over the cloth, and Fallon whimpered.
“Gale…time is not really on our side here...” Fallon reminded him. Though if she were being honest, her pleading tone had nothing to do with the potential of getting caught and everything to do with her need for Gale to give her more than just teasing touches.
Gale released her breast from his mouth and looked at her with a look of innocence on his face that did not reach his eyes. No, there was nothing but pure mischief residing in the expressive brown hues she’d come to adore with everything she had. Fallon’s heart flipped in her chest, and her knees wobbled under his gaze. “Whilst I am not worried about any late night intruders, I see where your concerns lie, so allow me to make an offering as a gesture to your comfort.” Gale removed his hand from between her legs and waved it precisely in the direction of the front door of the Stormshore Tabernacle, and Fallon heard the faint clicking sound of the lock falling into place.
“There. Though, I will say, any person capable of breaking through the Arcane Lock I just placed on the door would be rather deserving of the opportunity to witness me worship a goddess far more worthy of my devotion than any other deity in this temple.” Gale sank to his knees, spreading Fallon’s legs to settle between them and parting the folds of her dress to expose her lower half to the elements. Fallon gathered the excess fabric in her hand and rested it on the altar behind her so it pooled at the goddess of magic’s feet, and Fallon had honestly never felt more powerful.
Gale’s hands roamed up her legs and thighs until they reached her undergarments. Without a word, Gale hooked his fingers beneath the hem and tugged them down to her ankles and carefully lifted each of Fallon’s feet so he could remove them. They were soaked with her arousal, and Gale smirked as he took notice before tucking the evidence into the pocket of his robes, but he said nothing.
“I’m surprised Gale, you normally have something to say about the state I’m in when you take off my clothes. No waxing poetic, today?” Fallon teased, unable to recall the last time her normally verbose wizard was so silent.
Gale looked up at her, his smirk still very much present on his face as he reached for her leg to drape it over his shoulder. “Do you mind, Fallon? I’m trying to pray.”
Fallon opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but the words died in her throat and were replaced with moan; for no sooner had he asked for her silence, she felt Gale’s mouth against her center as he licked a long stripe before closing his mouth around her clit and lavishing it with his tongue. She whispered an expletive and gripped the edge of the altar, her knuckles white with effort as Gale devoured her, his strong hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.
Fallon’s head fell back as she whimpered with pleasure. She opened her eyes for a moment, and Fallon could have sworn the statue of Mystra was looking down at her with a glare. Whether that was actually the case or not, Fallon stuck her tongue out at the statue in a taunting manner anyway. Knowing Gale loved Fallon enough not only to defy Mystra was enough to make her feel a little smug, but the fact that Gale loved her so deeply that he was willing to commit sins of the flesh with her against an altar devoted to his ex-lover? Mystra could come down from Elysium and smite them where they stood (or kneeled, Gale’s case), and Fallon would die a happy woman.
Gale slid two fingers inside of her and she stifled another moan, raising her hips toward the wizard, urging him to go deeper. Instead, Gale stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look up at her as she made a noise of disapproval. “My love, why are you holding back?” He asked her before kissing her inner thigh.
“I didn’t want to disturb your prayers.” Fallon goaded him.
Gale raised an eyebrow at his lover and pressed another kiss to her inner thigh as his fingers began slowly moving inside of her again. “That your voice is not echoing off the walls of this temple means I’m not praying hard enough, dearest. I can’t have any of the other deities questioning my devotion to you, now can I?”
With that, Gale went back to work, lapping at her clit with his tongue and his fingers moved inside of her. Fallon moaned, and this time, she did not hold back, her sounds of approval only pushed Gale forward. He began to devour her cunt eagerly, almost desperately until the only word Fallon knew how to say was his name. When Fallon finally came, her vision blurred as she cried out in ecstasy, legs shaking as she clung to the altar beneath her for support. Gale remained dutifully between her legs with his mouth and fingers touching her until the spasms subsided and he was certain she’d been fully satisfied. Then Gale was on his feet and fumbling with his trousers beneath his robes and Fallon watched hungrily as his erection sprang free when Gale pushed his trousers down just far enough to release his cock.
Fallon moved to reach for Gale’s cock, ready to drop to her knees for the wizard and return the favor, but Gale shook his head, bracing her shoulder with the hand not gripping his cock to keep her in place. “As much as I adore the vision of you taking me in your mouth for all the gods to see, I’d much rather them watch me fuck you against this altar, if that’s alright?”
Fallon’s jaw went slack as she stared at Gale, his eyes dark and desperate with need for her, and she couldn’t help but let out a single, short laugh. “That is…more than alright,” Fallon hooked one of her legs around Gale’s hip and tugged him closer, taking his length in her hand and positioning it at her entrance. “Show them all how good you make me feel. How good we look together.”
Gale groaned as he kissed Fallon, pushing inside her quickly with a snap of his hips. Fallon shuddered with pleasure as Gale filled her, and she wrapped her other leg around his hip, pushing him deeper inside of her. Gale leaned down to kiss and bite her neck, moaning as he started thrusting his hips, setting a rough pace. “Gods, Gale, I love how well you fuck me,” Fallon moaned, removing her hands from the edge of the altar to wrap them around Gale’s neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well, my love.”
Fallon was balancing precariously on the edge of the altar now, and she held on tightly to Gale to keep from slipping. Mercifully, Gale took notice of this fact and in one swift movement, he lifted her up and away from the altar, the skirt of her dress cascading down around her, and she whined at the loss of him as Gale’s cock slipped out of her as they moved. Fallon thought Gale might be relocating them to the wall next to Mystra’s altar, but instead, Gale carefully sank to his knees and gently laid Fallon on the temple floor.
The cool stone was welcome against the heat of her body, and she released Gale’s hips from the grasp of her legs, settling them on either side of him. Fallon looked up at Gale with a look of pure adoration. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” She reminded him, and Gale smiled at her in return.
Her wizard leaned forward and kissed her slowly. When he was ready, he pulled away from their kiss and pressed his forehead against Fallon’s. “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever had the great pleasure of knowing. To know you love me, and how much I love you in return…there will never be a greater feeling in the universe.”
Gale kissed her again as he repositioned himself between her legs and slid back home, his pace slower than before, deeper. This man wasn’t just fucking Fallon in front of an altar dedicated to his ex, he was making love to her: likely in a way he never got to experience with Mystra, if the stories he’d shared were any indication. The love she and Gale shared was the kind of love only mortals would ever understand. It was world-shattering, soul-bonding, life-altering love that many people would never be able to claim they’ve experienced, and Fallon felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have found that type of love in Gale.
The only sounds echoing off the walls of the temple now were those of their collective moans, and Fallon clung to Gale has she could feel her second orgasm in the edges of her body, rising quickly to the surface. “Gale— I’m not going to last much longer.” Fallon pleaded.
“Let go, dearest, I’ve got you.” Gale encouraged as his own movements became more erratic with each thrust.
“I want to go with you. Together.” Fallon requested and all Gale could do was nod as he picked up the pace.
Within moments, Fallon came with Gale’s name on her lips and he followed mere seconds behind her. They rode out the high together, holding each other close as they moved, until each of them had nothing left to give and Gale collapsed on top of her with a deep kiss.
Fallon couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth, smiling about what they’d just done. “Do you think when we go to the House of Hope that Raphael will just go ahead and show us to our room? Because surely we’ve just secured our spots in Avernus when we die for what we’ve just done.”
Gale laughed with her, and he kissed her nose. “Worth it.”
When they finally returned to the suite at The Elfsong Tavern, before anyone could ask about where Gale had been, Astarion took one look at them and made a disgusted sound. “Oh my gods, the two of you had sex in that bloody temple didn’t you?”
Fallon’s jaw slackened and Gale looked at Astarion guilty.
“How did you—“
“Even if you didn’t reek of sex, darling, go look in the mirror.”
Fallon immediately rushed to the closest mirror and gasped when she took in her reflection. She was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was barely on straight, and the love bites on her neck had begun to bruise. She caught Gale’s eye in the mirror’s reflection and grinned.
“Worth it.”
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale#bg3 fanfic#female tav#gale x tav#bg3 smut#gale smut#baldur's gate 3 fan fiction#baldur's gate 3 smut#baldur's gate 3 fanfic#bg3 fan fiction#gale fanfic
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I've Found Home
Fem!Yuu and Twisted Cast
(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)
Implied relationship
She moved on. She had to and had every reason to. She had someone who relied on her.
Warnings:hurt-comfort, Angst to heal your soul. Healing those and abandonment issues. Happy ending I promise. Don't read if you are not ready to cry. Did not proof read, wrote this late a night, sick and half asleep. Sorry.
Move on.
Forget.
There was no going back.
You chose this.
You wanted this.
After three years of living in another world Yuu couldn't adjust easily to her old life.
A life that no longer exists. So she began building a new one.
She found a good price on a place near the mountains. Private but not isolated. She had the money after her book deal.
People would never believe her story so she wrote fantasy novels. She felt closer to her friends this way but more lonely all the same. She couldn't share the truth with anyone and could never talk about them as though they were real.
Still, she could write new stories with new characters to forget.
Life had been quiet. Eat, sleep, write, watch TV, read and do it all again. Sometimes getting food deliveries, read fan mail and get a call to two. It was decent life. Something Idia would love.
He's probably taken over STYX by now. I bet he and Ortho are doing great together.
Nevermind, she could probably cook something. Eating instant meals was probably ruining her health. Vil would kill her if he knew.
...
Food can wait. She wasn't that hungry anyways.
The garden! Yes! She had to tend the garden! She had ordered a spring bundle to plant.
The tag said it had some tulips, mums, begonias, and specialty white roses.
Nevermind... forget it. She should take a nap. A lazy day never hurt anyone. Even beasts can afford to sleep.
...
...
...
Yuu decided to leave. She couldn't take this anymore. If she got one more reminder she'd collapse. Their faces were ingrained in her mind and guilt burned under her skin.
Life was funny you know. You don't know what come next.
Yuu certainly didn't.
She hiked up the mountain trying to forget every time Jade would drag her to go foraging with him. Every late-night walk she had with Malleus. Every magic carpet ride with Kalim.
It wasn't fair! Why did she have to go through this? She wanted to see them again. What did she do to deserve this?
She was good! She was kind! She just wanted to go home! Is that so wrong? She worked hard! She made a name for herself! She should have the life she wanted and be able to enjoy that life.
But she missed them...
Unknowingly Yuu had dropped to her knees and crying. Only the forest could hear her and perhaps it took pity on her.
(Warning: If you are sensitive to child abuse or dead animals please don't read on.)
When her tears were gone and her cries faded there was a response.
A different cry. High pitched and gurgling. The kind that every woman knew in an odd instinctual way. The kind that sets off every alarm in your head and makes every hair stand on end. A baby.
She ran towards it praying to God that this wasn't a mountain lion. It wasn't though.
She found a small shack off the path. It was surrounded by trash. Must have been occupied by squatters. Said squatters seemed to have vacated at least a few days ago.
Yuu muscled open the makeshift door. The crying had turned into unfamiliar cracking breathless howls. Their voice must have given out a while ago after who knows how long. Hours, days...any longer would mean death.
Yuu searched and found a bunker of sorts under the floorboards.
She found a soggy bare mattress, a few scattered crayons, a ball and-oh God, that smell. It was a rotting cat. Poor thing must have been here for weeks. There was an empty cat food bowl nearby. Little drawings littered the floor. Ones of a smiling child with a smiling cat.
The whimpering cries continued and drew Yuu forward. She found them curled up in a corner. A rope was tied around their leg. It was a child. They were wrapped in soiled clothes, had matted hair, and emaciated.
Yuu felt her heart break again. This poor baby. Who could do this.
He looked at her with fear and hope. He wanted-no needed to be saved. He was probably no older than 3. He had no understanding of what was happening to him. His tears had marked his face as the only place was covered in a layer of dirt.
"Hey, is okay I'm here to help. I'm going to take you away now. Is that okay? We'll get you some food." Yuu tried to keep her voice even to not scare him.
The boy crawled over to the place of the dead cat. And began shaking it.
"Nina!Nina!" He wailed trying to wake her up.
He didn't know she was dead. He didn't even understand what death was.
"I'm sorry Nina can't come with us." Yuu said pulling him gently by the back of his ragged shirt.
But children don't understand these things.
"Nina! No! Nina!" He yelled horsey.
"Shh, it's okay. Don't worry I'll come back for her later. I promise." Yuu hushed.
She could bury her in the garden. He clearly loved her a lot and the poor kitty deserves that much.
After untying the rope Yuu lifted the boy into her arms and carried him home. He made almost no noise as he buried himself in her arms.
Yuu promised herself that she'd never let something like this happen to him again. He would never be abandoned again, he'd never go hungry again, and he'd be loved. She'd love him, she swore it.
"My son." She whispered to no one at all but I affirmed everything she felt.
He needed a name. The case worker didn't have one for him on file. She got to choose one.
For a writer she struggled to find one.
Mal, Elliot, Leo, Cecil, Bishop, Ali, Jacob, Carter, Azure, Jess
Only one name stuck
Grimm
"Grimm! It time for bed. Grab a book if you want me to read it to you." Yuu said walking up the stairs.
Grimm scanned his bookshelf for one of his favorites. The titles were: "The Rose Queen", "The King of Beasts", "The Wishing Star", "The sea witch", "The Sand Serpent", "The fairy Gala", "The Little Robot", "Magic Cat", "The beautiful Queen", and "The Underworld and back again"
Grimm had a favorite right now. The newest among the children's book collection Yuu had written. She pulled it off the shelf and ran back to bed.
Yuu could barely keep up these days. Grimm was fast but Yuu had practice.
She pulled the covers over him and read the title as Grimm snuggled up with his favorite stuffed animal. It was another merchandise stuffed animal. It was a big gray cat with a stripped bow and purple crystal around its neck.
Grimm named it Nina and took it everywhere. Along as it comforted him Yuu said nothing.
"The Lonely Dragon: Once upon a time there was a powerful dragon prince who lived in a land far far away." Yuu began.
"But the dragon isn't lonely forever. He meets the lost princess and they become best friends! Oh and the Silver knight comes in stop the dragon here!" Grimm interrupted leaning over his mother.
" Well if you want to tell the story." Yuu sighed.
When Yuu finished Grimm asked her something.
"So the dragon isn't lonely anymore?" He looked at her with wide eyes.
"No, he has many friends and rules over a nice kingdom," Yuu said in a hushed voice as shifted his pillow to make him lie down.
"What about the lost princess?"
"The lost princess found her way home. She said goodbye to her friends and is where she belongs now."
"But is she lonely? Without all her friends?"
"She used to be but now she has a home. She misses her friends but she's happy."
"I wish I could meet her. I'd be her friend and she'd never be lonely again."
"I know, I'd bet she'd be so happy. Goodnight, baby."Yuu turned off the light as she kissed Grimm's cheek
"Night Mama." Grimm said kissing his mother back.
When Yuu left the room she kept the door open just a bit so Grimm wouldn't be afraid of the dark.
She took a deep breath. Maybe she shouldn't have written the Lost Princess series but it was so well loved these days what could she do?
Still, she could relive those days for just a brief moment and smile.
She made her way to the study to go back to writing her new book when a knock came from downstairs.
Yuu cautiously made her way to the door and pressed an ear to it to listen to who it might be. Forgetting she had a peephole. A familiar voice called her name from the other side.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland yuu#twst yuu#azul ashengrotto#vil schoenheit#leona kingscholar#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#riddle rosehearts#idia shroud#kalim al asim#jamil viper#twisted wonderland grim#vil shoenheit x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#idia shroud x reader#kalim x reader#jamil viper x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#Spotify
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friends on vacation | mattheo riddle x reader x slytherin squad
mini series pt. 1
summary: you and your friends go on vacation before you start your last year at hogwarts. Let‘s just say it get‘s interesting between you and your best friend Mattheo.
warnings: modern slytherin group, vacation to spain, cursing, making out, touching a little, lap dance, hickeys, kissing pansy as friends in game, english is not my first language
Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Theodore, Mattheo, Pansy and me. We all sat together at my house around a big round table. My parents and I had a big house in New York, living there when the wizard world got a little too much.
It wasn‘t the first time that I had all of my friends over, we were inseparable. Everybody knew. So after a few years I showed them a little of my second world, leaving them no choice but to like it. Just like me, they liked to escape our world sometimes, leaving all the monsters and unicorns behind for some relaxing. Just like now.
"So.. where do we wanna go, huh?" Theodore asked into the round, lightning his cigarette.
"Why don‘t we think about what kind of vacation we want first?" I said, taking my Ipad in front of me and opening my vacation apps. " Please somewhere near the beach. I wanna tan and we‘re around the forest and mountains all the time in Hogwarts." Pansy said, stretching her legs over Draco‘s and Blaise‘s laps who were sitting on my garden couch.
"Yeah I agree, If I see one more forest I‘m gonna die." Blaise joins the conversation with a dramatic sigh at the end.
Mattheo and Draco teased each other at the meantime like little kids, throwing their cherry pits at each other.
"What about Italy? There‘s beach and sun." Enzo asks, sitting on the grass beneath us, playing with my dog. "Nah, I already live there that‘s no vacation for me." Theo answers, shaking his head and blowing out some smoke while speaking.
"I have an idea! Spain is beautiful and it‘s really hot there too, perfect to tan. I was there a few years ago with my parents. And the flight from there back to Hogwarts isn‘t that long. 2-3 hours I think." I suggested and looked around the table, all eyes on me now.
"Where exactly in Spain?" Mattheo asks me, sitting right next to me on a second couch, throwing a pit at Draco again. " Alicante is a great vacation spot. Lots of palms, beach, great fruits and sun. You guys will love it." I smile, already looking for flights for the next days.
"Sounds fine to me." Enzo shrugs, smiling up at me while the rest of our group joins in with "great idea" and some "let‘s do this".
2 days later
" Oh my god its beautiful! " Pansy says, stunned at the apartment I booked for us. "Wow, what a view. You really did a great job y/n." Blaise agrees.
The apartment has indeed a beautiful view, you can see the ocean right in front of us even tho it‘s night, you could see it because of all the lights from the little shops and restaurants along the ocean.
"Soo I booked this apartment with the balcony, 3 bathrooms which should be enough for us and 5 bedrooms. Pansy and Draco will share due obvious reasons." I started looking at them. "Also a kitchen so we can.. i din‘t know, have breakfast or have some snacks if everything is closed at night. And this big fat living room we‘re standing in."
" Blaise is right, you really did a great job at that." Mattheo grins, standing right next to me and looking around the living room.
We all settled in and unpacked our things. Pansy and I marked the biggest bathroom with our makeup and skincare stuff so the boys directly knew its our territory.
"Hey guys Theodore and I are going to a store, getting some groceries." Enzo shouted trough the apartment before walking outside the door with Theo.
"Pansy and me are showering!" I shouted so they‘d know what we‘re up to.
Mattheo and Draco looked at each other, before storming off the couch and sprinting to our bathroom only to realise the door was already locked. "Ugh."
I laughed at them together with Pansy as I shook my head. I took off my makeup as Pansy already got in the shower. "Mattheo is so smitten by you it‘s obvious." She laughs, shampooing her hair.
"You know we‘re just friends, Pansy." I say, cheekly smiling. Mattheo and I are best friends since first grade. All of us got friends real quick. Mattheo and Draco knew each other because the Malfoy‘s raised him for Voldemort. Pansy got a crush on Draco and didn‘t leave his side. Pansy and I had to share a dorm in Hogwarts which made us best friends too really fast. I met Enzo at my first class as he was my partner for the whole year. Blaise met Draco in the common room as they battled for the coolest broom. That‘s how we kind of found our way to each other and I wouldn‘t want to change it for a second.
"Yeah but he looks at you different as he looks at me for example." she answers. "Yeah because you‘re with Draco and he would chop Mattheo‘s dick off!" I laugh before joining her in the shower.
"No y/n, because he likes you a little more than just friends do. And hey I‘m not saying he loves you but all I‘m saying is that there is a little spark between the two of you."
Mattheo and I liked to flirt with each other a lot but we never really did something about it because we‘re just friends. And we just like to flirt for fun. Thats it. I think..
As we were ready we put on some clothes and walked outside the bathroom, our hair still wet from the shower. Pansy sat next to Draco, putting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. I had to smile at them, they always made me smile no matter what they did. Draco always acted cold towards eveyone around him, besides from his friends of course, we are like family. But he acted really warm around her which made me happy for both of them.
I sat down between Blaise and Mattheo, making myself comfortable laying my legs over Blaise his lap and my head on Mattheo‘s tigh. "Why am I always getting your girls legs?" Blaise complains with a little smile on his face. "Oh shut up you love my legs." I say winking at him which just made him laugh and shaking his head.
A few seconds later I felt a hand in my hair, massaging my scalp which made me purr a little. "Like that?" Mattheo asks, grinning down at me. "You know I do, Matty." I sigh, closing my eyes and enjoying his touch. "Your hair smells really good when it‘s wet. What is it, peach?" he asks me and lowers his head a little bit to my hair. " Oh so my hair only smells good when it‘s wet? But yes, it is peach indeed." Mattheo chuckles at my answer. "No it always smells great. It just smells more intense when it‘s wet."
Suddenly I heard a gagging noice which made me lift my head and see Blaise fake gagging. "Can you two take a room?"
"You‘re just jelous because you‘re alone." Draco snickers from the side, stroking Pansy‘s back. I laugh at his comment before I get a death glare from Blaise.
We all get interrupted by our phone‘s ringing. I take mine out if my pocket just like the rest did and saw a notification from our group chat. Yes, I made them get a phone a year ago but they all only used it between the holidays. Never in Hogwarts. But I did and I also made everyone of them an instagram account a while ago but Theo, he only joined this week.
Theodore: Yo guys we‘re on our way with all the groceries get ready for some drinks! And aye y/n this app you showed me is fuuuull of hot girl why didn‘t you show me sooner dude! *picture attached*
I laugh at his message just like the others do and answer him.
Y/N: I told you but you didn‘t want to join! 😤 I‘m getting the glasses 👀
As i send the message i stand up and walk towards the kitchen to get some glasses and shot glasses. "I‘m gonna help." Mattheo speaks as he stands up from his spot and follows me.
As I grab some glasses from a shelf above me, I feel his presence behind me. "Are you smelling my hair again?" "Yeah it‘s kind of addicting." He admits and kisses the top of my head before he grabs some glasses too and brings them back to the living room and sets them on the table in front of the couch.
I turn on the tv and switched to netflix putting on some random show for some background noises. Just in time Theo and Enzo came trough the door with bags full of alcohol and some food. "Hey guys, just put it on the table, glasses are ready."
"Yo Y/n we got something for you." "What is it?" I wondered as Theo pulled out a big bowl of fruits, handing them over to me with the words "here principessa, you talked the whole fucking flight about the food and especially the fruits here."
"Oh thank you thank you!" I hugged them both tightly and opened the bowl exited to eat some fruits right away. As the first piece of melon hit my tounge I moaned dramatic, sitting back down on the couch. "Ugh I love it so much. Here guys, try some fruits."
They all laughed at my behavior and took some fruits out if the bowl. "Wow these are really good." Blaise nodded, eating a piece of pineapple.
I took out a strawberry and put it to the half into my mouth, slightly sucking on it as I looked over to Mattheo, holding the bowl out to him as he was the only one who didn‘t take some.
He sat down to my left and took the other half of my strawberry, eating it while looking into my eyes. My cheeks flushed a light color of pink and I had to look away which made him smile.
"Come on guys let‘s drink something." Draco says standing up and taking the first bottle, looking towards me. "What‘s that? Jim Bean. There‘s an green apple on it, does it taste like that?"
"Uh- a little bit, it‘s strong alcohol like firewhiskey but with a hint of green apple." i tell him.
"Sounds fire." he says and pours something into our glasses, mixing it with Coke. We all took one, cheered and took our first sip. "And? You like it?“ i ask Draco with a smug face on my face. "Yeah i like this muggle stuff more and more." We all laugh at that and continue drinking and chatting, also planning a little bit what we‘re gonna do the next few days.
A few hours later we are all drunk, sitting on the couch and on the floor, but all around the table, playing uno. It was only Pansy against Blaise, the rest of us already lost. Blaise lay‘s down a wish card, seeing Pansy has only left 1 card. He thinks for a sec and says "blue" before Pansy springs up happy and dancing, throwing her blue card on the table. " Uno! ha!" Blaise groans in annoyance and lets himself fall back onto the couch.
"Let‘s play something more interesting guys!" Pansy suggests." Somethink like.. never have I ever or.. truth or dare!"
"Truth or Dare!" I giggle, taking an empty bottle from the ground. " I have a perfect app for this guys! It‘s called piccolo." I took out my phone and put all of our names into it so it could give us our first quest.
Draco and Enzo tell us about your most embarrassing story ever.
We all look at them, waiting for them to tell. Enzo tells us how his pants ripped at a date and Draco claims nothing embarrassing has ever happened to him but Pansy tells us how he sneezed into her face at the first dinner with her parents.
Theodore, choose someone‘s glass at the table and drink it all.
Theo groans and try‘s to take the glass with the least drink in it and chooses Mattheo‘s who has a little less in it then mine.
Mattheo, fill up your glass again.
Now Mattheo‘s the one who groans and does as the phone tells him to.
Y/n, choose your left or right for a at least 10 second kiss.
My eyes widen as I look to my left and see Mattheo grinning and to my right Pansy. "Sorry Mattheo." I giggle as i turn to my right and look at Pansy. She has to giggle too and comes near my face.
"Damn boys am I dreaming or are you seeing the same thing I do?" Theodore asks as he gawks at us.
"Shut up and be quiet!" Draco hisses and looks at us too. "Let‘s give them a show." Pansy giggles and pulls me closer. Our lips meet and I can‘t help but smile against her lips.
"Shit.." i hear Enzo whispering. She giggled against my lips as she hears him too and as the 10 seconds are up we seperate and look around us. They all look at us with big eyes and drooling mouths. "God what is it with boys that they find it so hot when teo girls are making out." Pansy asks.
As I lean back into my spot, Mattheo leans right next to me, his lips beside my ear as he whispers inside it "i don‘t know if i should be jelous or lucky to see something like that." My cheeks heat up again but I try to hide it with rolling my eyes and answering " you‘re a little pervert, mattheo." But I still have to laugh.
"And they‘re gone." I hear Blaise saying, which makes me look at them again to see the last bit of Draco and Pansy before they leave the living room and stumble kissing inside of their shared room.
I shake my head chuckling, Theo shouting "Use condoms my kids!"
Enzo, choose someone to drink against you, loser has to do the cleaning.
Enzo looks around the room and grins at me. "Oh my god why.." i half laugh and half whine as I take my glass and start drinking as fast as I can but Enzo is way faster and smashes his glass back down onto the table it almost broke. "Ha! yes!" Enzo celebrates.
Theodore, choose someone in this round and give them an interesting task.
Theo thinks for a moment before his lips curl up into a devilish smile. "Y/n.. " he starts "choose someone of us to give a lapdance to."
My face heats up at his words and my mind starts to think who to choose as I stand up to walk over to Theodore, but a pair of hands grip my hips and pull me into their matching lap. "Don‘t you dare pick someone else than me little peach." mattheo‘s deep voice echoes in my ear.
I look over to Blaise and tell him to put on a song for me. "Damn she really is gonna give him one." Enzo chuckles as he watches me standing up again in front of Mattheo.
Blaise puts on a song which comes out of the music boxes beside us.
I take a deep breath in and out, hoping not to embarrass myself in my drunken state.
I take his hand and leat him to an empty arm chair besides the couch.
I start slowly circling the chair, my finger gazing his shoulder and his chest as the music starts. When I stand behind him I grap his hair and softly pull on it so his head throws back. I arch my back and lower down a bit until i tease him with brushing my lips against the skin of his neck, making him shivers in his seat. I get back up and walk around the chair again, still touching his arm softly.
When I stand in front of him I put my foot on his chair between his spread legs, slowly tracing it with my own fingers. I know how much he loves me legs, he always told me. That was the real reason why Blaise always got the legs. Because I wanted to tease Mattheo.
I saw him gulping and his hands twitching as he trys not to touch my leg. I take my leg back to the ground and arch my back again, pushing his legs together and sitting on his lap in one smooth motion.
I hear the boys whistle at my move and I have to hide a smile. I slowly start to grind on his left tight, after a minute on his right but not with too much pressure, always just brushing and gazing touch.
I looked at Mattheo, him biting his lower lip and looking down at my hips grinding. I stand up again, turn around and bend over with an arched back, shaking my ass.
After that I took a few steps towards him but still with my back to him and sat down on his lap this time, leaning my back against him and slithering one arm around his neck so his head was at my shoulder. I started grinding my hips slowly but this time with more pressure. "And you wanted to do that on one of them?" Mattheo whispers in my ear, laying his hands on my moving hips.
Without answering him I stood up as the song was over. They all cheered and clapped their hands together which made me laugh and blush. I sat back down on the couch looking over to Mattheo who stood up, his hands hanging in front of his crotch.
He walked over to me, sitting beside me with a little frown to his face which made me gulp. "What‘s wrong?" I asked him quietly so the rest wouldnt hear, even tho they were already distracted by something new. "Nothing." he mumbled and looked at the still running tv. "Come on tell me, we‘re best friends. I can see somethings wrong."
Then he looks at me with sharp eyes, taking my hand and putting it on his lap. "Does this feel like nothing to you, y/n?" he asks with a low voice, my eyes going wide as I felt him hard in his pants, because of.. me?
Without even thinking I grabbed him trough his pants, making his eyes go wide. At first he looked at the boys, then at me. "Y/n.. " "Mattheo.."
Suddenly he grabs my shirt pulling me towards him and crashes his lips against mine. This time my eyes go wide as I feel his lips against mine. They feel soft and full, tasting like the apple whiskey we drank all night long. His hands roam over my body, feeling almost every inch of me.
I lick his bottom lip before I let him explore my mouth with his tounge. "Fuck you taste so fucking good." he breathes against my lips.
My hand is still on his lap, feeling almost paralyzed as i didn‘t move out of fear what would happen next If I continue. But I could feel how much harder he got from our little makeout session.
"Mattheo.. we have to stop." I whisper against his lips, my forehead against his. "But it feels so good.." "I know it does, but we will regret it If we don‘t stop, okay?" He groans and takes me by my hips, pulling me on top of him.
"Y/n, please. I beg you. Just make out a little more with me, I need this." he slurrs, obviously still as drunk as I am. That‘s why I blame my next decision on the alcohol.
My hands grab his shirt and I pull him even closer to me, brushing my lips against his. "Tomorrow we‘re normal friends again okay? Nothings going to be awkward or different, because we just make out a little.. like friends do, helping each other just to ease a little. Promise me." the words come out as a whisper and he nodds, agreeing to them. ".. I promise."
Desperately he closes the space between us, taking my lips in for a heated kiss again. My hands were on his hair, slightly pulling on some strands. "Do that again.." he groans. I pull again and a strangled moan leaves his lips making me shiver on him.
He arches his back a little, bucking his hips against mine. He shudders when my hips move back against his, still sitting on his lap.
"What are you even doing to me, Peach – huh?" I hear him say before he traces down an invisible path down my neck, leaving light and wet kissed.
– thats all I remember before waking up in my bed in the morning with my head hurting like hell. I groan and try to get up, wanting to take a shower. It sounds like the rest is still asleep so I walk into mine and Pansy‘s bathroom, taking off my clothes to get into the shower. With one last turn I see myself in the mirror, my eyes widen. What the fuck.
I had a hickey right between my breasts and one on my collorbone but it was really small and almost bot noticeable. Who was - shit Mattheo.
—
yoo 2 posts in less than 24h ?? Crazyy
this is going to be a mini series. 🫶🏻 inspired by my vacation 2 weeks ago to Barcelona 🇪🇸
my Masterlist
xoxo Sarah <3
#slytherin boys#slytherin squad#slytherin gang#slytherin boys x reader#theodore nott oneshot#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader#slytherin imagine#slytherin smut#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle#harry potter imagine#harry potter masterlist#pansy parkinson#pansy parkinson imagine#blaise zabini#lorenzo berkshire#draco malfoy#draco malfoy imagine
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Small World Pt 2
Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.
Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy
A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends
Peep Part 1 Here 💙
Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.
His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.
He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.
7 siphons would not be enough.
And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.
He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"
Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."
A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"
Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."
"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."
"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."
Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."
Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.
You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.
You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.
Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.
Like they had with Nesta.
Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.
You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.
Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.
Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."
"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"
The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."
Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"
Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.
Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"
"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."
The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.
He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.
Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.
They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.
Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.
You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.
A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"
"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."
Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.
You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.
You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."
After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.
"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."
Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.
You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.
"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.
Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.
Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.
It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.
Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.
Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?
That you were afraid of storms?
That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?
You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.
If Rhysand would just believe in you.
Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.
Fuck expectations.
Fuck the rules.
Fuck your family.
Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.
He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.
General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish
Azriel-
@elle4404
Small World Taglist-
@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce
#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel x feysands daughter!reader#az x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster
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It's my birthday today can you write how LDS boys would celebrate their s/o birthday?!?
Birthday Celebration for his S/O
Pairing: Zayne, Xavier & Rafayel x gn!reader (separately)
Warnings: none!
A/N: happy birthday! hope you like these scenarios🫶🏻
Zayne
As you wake up on your birthday, you find a note by your bedside table. It's written in Zayne's elegant handwriting, inviting your to meet him at your favorite café for breakfast. When you arrive, you're greeted by a table adorned with your favorite flowers and a small gift wrapped in delicate paper.
After a cozy breakfast together, Zayne surprises you with tickets to a live performance of your favorite artist in the evening. Throughout the day, he showers you with subtle gestures of affection, like a gentle touch or a reassuring smile, always mindful of your surroundings.
In the evening, Zayne takes you to a secluded spot overlooking the city where he's set up a picnic under the stars. He prepared all your favorite foods and even brought a portable heater to keep you warm. As you both enjoy your meal, Zayne presents you with a handcrafted piece of jewelry, a symbol of his love and commitment, whispered softly rather than declared loudly.
You spend the rest of the night cuddled up together, watching the stars and sharing stories until the early hours of the morning. Zayne's birthday celebration for you is filled with understated affection, intimacy, and thoughtful gestures that reflect his deep love for you.
Xavier
Xavier starts the day by surprising you with breakfast in bed. He's prepared a delicious spread of your favorite foods, complete with freshly brewed coffee and a single red rose placed beside the tray.
After breakfast, Xavier takes you on a spontaneous road trip to a secluded cabin in the mountains. Along the way, you stop at picturesque spots to admire the scenery and take photos together. Xavier even packs a picnic lunch, complete with gourmet sandwiches and champagne to toast to your special day.
Upon reaching the cabin, Xavier reveals that he's planned a romantic evening under the stars. He lights a fire in the fireplace, sets up a cozy blanket outside, and prepares a candlelit dinner for two. You spend the night talking, laughing, and reminiscing about your favorite memories together.
Before you go to bed, Xavier presents you with a handcrafted journal filled with notes, poems, and sketches he's made over the years. It's a thoughtful gift that captures the essence of your relationship and the depth of his love for you.
Rafayel
Rafayel wakes you up with a burst of energy, showering you with kisses and playful tickles. He's already planned a full day of adventures, starting with brunch at a trendy café followed by a visit to an art gallery showcasing his latest paintings.
Throughout the day, Rafayel surprises you with spontaneous activities like a pottery class, a scenic hike, and a sunset picnic by the beach. He's arranged for a local band to serenade you as you enjoy your meal, adding to the romantic ambiance of the evening.
As the night falls, Rafayel takes you to a rooftop bar with stunning views of the city skyline. He's organized a surprise party with all your friends, complete with music, dancing, and plenty of laughter. You spend the rest of the night celebrating, surrounded by the people you love most.
Before the clock strikes midnight, Rafayel presents you with a canvas painting he's been working on for weeks. It's a portrait of the both of you together, capturing the joy and love you share in vibrant colors and bold strokes. It's a fitting end to a day filled with excitement, adventure, and the unmistakable warmth of Rafayel's love.
.
.
.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel x reader#xavier x reader#zayne x reader#love and deepspace scenarios#love and deepspace fanfic#love and deepspace x male reader#rafayel x male reader#xavier x male reader#zayne x male reader
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Hi could you possibly write Neteyam x reader?
- Reader is best friends with Kiri and has feelings for Neteyam
- Reader sees herself as ugly, undesirable and believes Neteyam sees her as a little sister
- Yet Neteyam loves her and respects her
- Sexual tension between Neteyam and reader. linger hands and sneaking glances
- Kiri notices and secretly sets them up one night
Best Friend's Brother
Oh Jesus Christ I loved writing every moment of this, but I kinda strayed away from your last point in the request, I'm sorry! I still hope it satisfies <3
Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)
Requested: Yes | No
Warnings: Just fluff, some lowkey spice. No minors, get outta here! Reader is insecure and self-conscious, Neteyam puts a stop to that rather quickly.
Words: 3.7k
Author’s Notes:
Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 but only a few months older than Kiri. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 17, moving on to 18. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood. How old even is she? 8? Maybe im a fake fan.
Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!
Read below the cut:
High Camp provided so much warmth, love and safety for its people. You were not old enough to remember Hometree or the destruction of it. But you could not imagine living anywhere else but in the densely protected cave systems of the Hallelujah Mountains.
Everyone knows everyone, all the kids play together, live together, laugh together. The community that Olo'eyktan Jake Sully, and his mate, Neytiri had fostered here was against all odds.
Your mother was one of the most talented hunters in the clan, this love of hunting easily transferred to warmongering, alongside the leadership (or maybe the leashing of your mother’s bloodlust) from Neytiri and Toruk Macto. Neytiri and your mother grew up together, so closely. Neytiri never forgets her friends and knows every name and face of the clan. You couldn’t help but admire her for this. Your father, on the other hand, was an irreplaceable healer and herbalist. He worked alongside T’sahik Mo’at, training younger Na’vi who showed promise in interpreting the ways of Eywa’s medicinal signs. With your family’s connection to the Sully’s, it was impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to.
You grew up with the Sully kids, being a year younger than Neteyam, their eldest, and only a few months older than Kiri and Lo’ak, the four of you would always be playing. Running through the majestic forests of Pandora, swimming through creeks, lakes and rivers, kissing the dirt as you rolled down hills into meadows of wildflowers. The older you got the closer you got to Kiri. The sister you’ll never have.
You loved your parents, you did, but they made it clear that one child was enough for them. Your father loved the Sully’s as you did, he thought with his entire heart that Jake was the best for the clan. He was Toruk Macto, after all. Your mother, however, made things harder. She loved Neytiri like a sister, and always wished for her happiness.
“I remember when Jake was like a baby, you know.” She would say at mealtimes, your father would have a small smile. You could do nothing but roll her eyes. “He was trouble maker, still is.” She was grumpy. You knew that she trusted Jake and saw him as a good Olo’eyktan, but the disdain grew from your friendship with his kids.
“His boys are the same, no different.” She would always say the same thing, with the same pointed look.
You and Kiri had just finished your rituals of womanhood the week prior. For the both of you finding a mate was expected. For Kiri, nothing was ever expected in terms of mateship. In fact it was almost the opposite.
“You never have to do something you don’t wanna do, Babygirl” Jake said, smoothing down Kiri’s wild hair. The two of you sat in the middle of the floor in the Sully’s tented home. Braiding beads into your songchords to commemorate the recent transition from child to adult.
“What about you, (y/n)?” Neytiri asked, watching the two young girls weave their cords, reminiscing on her own bead.
You sighed, knowing your parents had been pushing the topic for a while:
“What about Tsu-wey? Or, Marek or Teyk’ah?” Your mother said, rattling off the names of warrior boys, flinging her arms around, exasperated. You shook your head, you weren’t really interested in anyone.
Your father, always taking the approachable, personal angle, sat next to you, tucking your shoulders under his arm.
“What about Aäna? She’s a lovely girl-”
“Dad!” You shot up, crossing your arms over your chest, the blood rushing to your cheeks. “It’s not that Dad, I just don’t like anyone like that yet really.”
“You’ve got to work it out, (y/n),” Your mother said harshly, “Soon.”
“Uh no, no I haven’t really got anyone in mind.” You replied quietly.
“Ugh come on, lets scram.” Kiri said grabbing your wrist and practically marching you out of her family home.
“Ughh Kiri, I only just finished my chord-oof” Your complaints were quickly cut off as Kiri stobbed abruptly, your whole body coming in contact with her back. “You skxwang! What are you doing-”
“Brother.” Kiri chirps, cutting you off. Neteyam stood in the doorway, leaning against the timber frame, smirking. His braids fell around his face, his high cheekbones and delicate features seemed to play with the soft golden lighting of High Camp, his tail flicked subtly from side to side, amused.
“Sister, (y/n),” Neteyam replied, sounding almost bored. “Where are you two running off to?” his fingers fiddled with his waistband, running down to his songchord. You knew you were staring, tracking the motion of his large hands, rubbing each bead, shell, and stone in between his thumb and pointer finger. It was embarrassing, you couldn’t look away, and why should you? There was nothing inappropriate about the action. Just his large, capable hands and skilled fingers…
Oh Eywa, that is enough.
“None of your business, big brother,” Kiri said, teasing as she often did. You swore she only knew how to convey her thoughts through sarcasm and hints.
Neteyam chuckled, his fingers resting on his crossed arms once, more. Your plain eyes found his warm, deep ones, as he said:
“I think it’s my business where my girls run off to, no?” You knew he did not mean it the way your stupid little brain heard it, you know he meant it as a brother. Nothing more, nothing less. But god, you wished you were his girl. You always had, since you were twelve. All of a sudden, you woke up one day and Neteyam was cute. Cute turned into cool, cool gave way into hot, and hot turned into so incredibly sexy as you got older. And you stayed, well awkward and plain and not much to behold.
But, you could pretend, that was something you were good at. Rolling your eyes, you broke the contact with Neteyam, shoving Kiri with your shoulder and righting the way of the world, again.
“The meadow.” You said flatly.
Kiri wasn’t as much of an airhead as you seemed to think she was. She knew her best friend, and she knew her big brother. Neteyam was a loser, a goody-goody with a desperate need to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier. Around you, he became this swaggering popular guy that Kiri knew him not to be, really. Maybe around his stupid Ikran Rider friends. But never around Kiri, or Lo’ak or Tuk. He never bought that facade into their home, save for when you were in it.
You, on the other hand, Kiri knew you like the back of her hand. You were shy, sweet and just so obviously and painfully in love with Neteyam. She watched you watch him, and him in turn trying to memorise every freckle, scar and nick on your body.
Neteyam cleared his throat, embarrassed that Kiri had caught him, once again, stealing glances at her best friend.
“Just be home for dinner, before eclipse, yeah?” He questioned, the muscle upon his brow bone tilting slightly upward.
“Of course!” Kiri yelled out as the two of you ran off, hand-in-hand, giggling as you did so. Neteyam watched your retreating figures flee High Camp. Pulling his attention towards his own songchord, his most recent bead was longer than the others, a hollowed-out green gemstone, mottled with white and silver patterning. The one he chose for himself the year prior at his own ceremony, welcoming him into manhood. Neteyam smiled to himself, remembering the bead you had obviously chosen for your own ceremony, made from the same little green stone.
Neteyam didn’t know how much longer he could go on going like this. He felt like he was walking in circles, orbiting you, waiting for his gamut to eventually crash him into you. Sighing he opened the flap to his tented family home. Maybe it was time to ask Toruk Macto for advice.
The long grass of the meadow was a deep shade of green, almost the colour of seagrass. Its long strands waved in the breeze, tickling your face as you lay on your back, watching the clouds, birds and everything that called the clearing it’s home. You felt connected to the place, like you were in the lungs of the world, simply floating in the breath of Eywa.
Kiri sat at your feet in the long grass, facing you, but with her knees drawn close to her chest, playing with the end of her face-framing braids. She was thinking hard, hyperfocused on a thought that was so deep-rooted it took you multiple attempts to get her attention.
“What’s wrong my Kiri?” You asked, finally catching her eye-line, sitting up to mirror her position.
“Nothing is wrong, why would anything be wrong?” Kiri responded, trying to act nonchalant.
“Do not bullshit me, you penis face.” You say, pulling a smile out of her distracted figure while nudging her leg with your foot.
“You would be my sister if you mated Neteyam, you know that right?” She asked, like she didn’t say the craziest fucking sentence you’ve ever heard in the world.
All the air left your lungs at once, she may as well have punched you in the stomach. You were going to retch.
“What are you talking about!” You felt the blood rush to your face, fanning itself over your nose, cheeks, ears and shoulders. Your whole chest felt like Kiri had taken a flare to it. You couldn’t bear it, you felt hot all over. You covered your face with your shaking hands.
Oh, mother Eywa I will die here, I will die here of embarrassment and pass through to you.
“Don’t be stupid, I know you loooooove him,” She said stretching out her o’s as she so often did when teasing, she poked you a few times too, for good measure. “He obviously is pining for you too, you skxwang.”
Kiri was a tease, she was sarcastic and blunt and hilarious. But she was not mean. Which, is why you couldn’t work out why she was being mean to you now. About something so personal, too. You felt the hot tears start to form.
“Why are you being mean?” You asked softly, pulling your hands away from your eyes, to try and read her face.
Kiri was taken aback by how upset you were. She did not mean it to be mean, she was serious. She quickly took you in her arms, all jokes aside.
“Ma (y/n) why are you crying?” Kiri asked softly. You sniffled, letting the tears fall freely now.
“You know I love Neteyam, why would you tease me like that knowing it is like stones in my heart.” You began to ramble, as you so often did when you were emotional. “Neteyam sees me as his little sister, nothing more, nothing less.” You said seriously, vehemently. Lip quivering, you felt stupid and pathetic crying about it. But now that ball of thoughts had started to be unwound in your mind you could not stop, all the words you could not say since you were twelve just fell out of your little mouth. “And besides, if Neteyam didn’t see me as just a little annoying sister, I am ugly Kiri.” Kiri started to shush you, but you did not listen.
“I am not unique in features like you, I am not as elegant as your mother, I’m not as alluring as Aäna, or as talented as Lor’ät. I’m so fucking boring.” Your tears fell so freely down your face and neck, you felt them fall behind the straps of your breast cover. You hated it. You hated everything about you and you would never be enough for Neteyam.
You would never be enough for anyone, really. When you thought critically about it.
Kiri held you close as you sobbed like her mother would, smoothing down your hair like her father would. She was beyond confused about how you could ever think this about yourself. Knowing fair well what a lot of the hunter boys Lo’ak was friends with say about you, what Neteyam’s Riders say in confidence, what the healer girls under Mo’at whisper about during Kiri’s training. Usually it makes her want to gag. But in this moment she wished she told you earlier. Maybe it would’ve given you more self-confidence in a perverse roundabout way. You were so wanted. If it wasn’t for Neteyam’s possessive nature of you, you could have anyone you wanted. Kiri reasoned, that if Neteyam wasn’t going to let anyone else have you, but not move on you himself, Kiri would have to set it up.
You and Kiri came back to High Camp, just before dinner and just after you finally stopped crying. You asked Kiri to never talk about the whole thing, preferring to just shove the whole thing into a little lockbox, throwing it away into the undercurrent of your consciousness.
You stopped dead in your tracks infront of Kiri’s home, hearing Jake’s laugh and Tuk’s squeals. Neteyam was in there. No, you couldnt it was way to fresh. To have dinner with them would be the last petal in your funerary basket.
“Come, lets eat.” Kiri whined, pulling on your arm. You stood firm like an island of stone against the tide.
“I think I will eat with my parents tonight, I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow I promise.” You quickly added, to appease your headstrong sister.
“Okay.” Kiri said softly, taking both of your hands into her five-fingered ones. “It’s all going to sort itself out, (y/n). I promise.”
The usually short walk across High Camp to your family home felt unusually long, cold and dark.
Kiri flopped down on the woven mats around the firepit with a huff. Next to Jake and Neteyam, Kiri was hungry and angry and sad for her friend.
“Hey , Babygirl.” Jake said, kissing Kiri on her forehead. Jake looked toward the door, confused. “Where’s my other beautiful girl?” Jake asked, confused. (y/n) always joined them for dinner, he couldn’t remember a night her presence had been missed since she was born.
Kiri sighed, big and deep. “She’s having dinner with her parents.”
“What has happened?” Neytiri asked, serving dinner on a leaf for little Tuk.
Kiri felt internally conflicted. It was not her business to share, not her secrets to lay bare. But her best friend was hurting, and the skxwang next to her was the only one who could fix it. But (y/n) never begs for anything, and she begged Kiri the whole walk home to say nothing.
She could not say nothing, but she did not have to say anything, either.
“(y/n) was sad, about finding a mate. Her parents are really hard on her about it.” Kiri was not one to lie, and this was not a lie she convinced herself. But not the whole truth either.
“Bro, that’s so stupid. Literally everyone is asking her mom for courting meetings.” Lo’ak piped up. His sentence muffled due to his full fucking face of food. Kiri screwed her face up.
“Courting meetings? What do you mean?” Neteyam looked panicked. The face he usually reserved for Lo’ak’s antics on the field.
“I don’t know man, some of the guys were talking about it today during lessons. But her Dad keeps turning them away for now.” Lo’ak answered, shrugging nonchalantly, stuffing his face still, despite the family’s disgust.
Kiri stared at Neteyam, reading every inch of his face as he calmed down. He was running out of time, she knew it. But, Neteyam looked at Jake. Jake raised his eyebrows at his eldest son, turning his head slightly and shrugging. It was a shared look, Neteyam knew exactly what Jake meant, though Kiri felt left in the lurch.
The Sully’s did not talk about it for the rest of dinner, thankfully.
Neytiri was putting Tuk to bed. Jake, in a rare moment was teaching Lo’ak how to properly clean a gun. Kiri sat, next to Neteyam, running her hands up and down her own songchord, anxiously. Neteyam was evidently anxious too, his legs pulled up close to his chest, he stared at the fire pit as if the answers were going to lash out and brand him.
“She is in love with you, Neteyam.” Kiri said softly. Neteyam felt like he was going to pass out and bleed from his nose.
“I don’t think so baby sister,” Neteyam ruffled her hair, trying to present himself in a lighthearted way, despite his creeping blush. Kiri smacked his hand away.
“Listen to me, you idiot.” Kiri’s serious voice felt like a hot knife running through Neteyam’s soul. She never sounded this way, this upset. “She loves you. And, and she thinks that you only think of her as a little sister.” Neteyam chuckled at that, he never treated her the way he treated Kiri and Tuk. Surely, that was obvious, no? “I know. I laughed too.” Kiri said with a small smile. She took Neteyam’s hands into her own, like she did with you only a few hours prior.
“Neteyam, she thinks that she’s ugly, that she will never be enough for you. She thinks she’s not talented.” Kiri’s round eyes filled with empathetic tears for her best friend, thinking back on your small frame sobbing in the long grass.
Neteyam’s blush soon turned to anger. His heart finding the possessive pit that he reserves only for his feelings for you.
“I do not understand, does she not know that everyone wants her?” Neteyam hissed in a low voice, Eywa forbid, Neytiri heard him talk about how the other boys of the clan view (y/n). Neteyam hated how they spoke of her body, her face, her mind. Her beautiful voice and nimble hands. Only he was allowed to think of you like that. And the Great Mother only knows how they think of you at night, how they think of you when they-
Neteyam stopped himself before he went any further. He knew how he thought about you at night when he has a hand between his thighs.
“She does not know.” Kiri said, bringing Neteyam back to the forefront of his mind. “I have never told her.”
Neteyam’s heart swelled in a terrible way. You were so sweet, so innocent, you did not know that boys rutted into their own hands at the thought of the way your waist dips, or the mound of your breast. He needed to protect you, and Jesus, he thought he had by laying an unofficial possessive claim. But, it seems that the future Olo’eyktan has been ignored.
A growl fell out of Neteyam’s mouth. To Kiri it looked like a dark light fell over her brother’s features. A man possessed. He stood, cracking his neck and shoulders, like he always did, but this time Kiri flinched. She had never seen Neteyam so…scary.
“I will fix this tomorrow, sister.” Was all Neteyam said, as he retreated to the sleeping quarters of their home.
(y/n) did not sleep a wink. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Neteyam. Neteyam laughing with other girls, Neteyam riding with other girls. How they wave to him when he walks past.
Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.
You felt so guilty, so, so guilty. As the night went on your thoughts went south, went dirty and wrong. You dreamt about kissing Neteyam; How soft his lips would feel against your own. His rough, calloused hands would hold your face in place and he would kiss you like he loved you, kissed you like he meant it.
Simply, you did not deserve to hold romantic thoughts about Neteyam in your heart like that. He was not yours. He would never be.
You quick hands made light work of the repair you were currently undertaking. You enjoyed your work as clan seamstress. Fixing, making loin cloths, beading breast covers and threading jewellery. You enjoyed the freedom to create things, but to also be useful to your clan. You could never offer them safety, food, medicine or freedom. But you could make sure they were warm in the cool rains, and protected from the glistening sun in the heat of the day.
You folded the repaired loincloth, placing it to the side. Ready for its owner to pick it up when they had a moment to spare.
The flap to the tent flew open, causing you to jump out of your skin. The last person you wanted to see stood in the entry way, ripped loincloth in hand.
“Good morning, Neteyam.” You said softly, casting your gaze downwards. He quickly sat across from you, legs crossed like a child.
“Well, it’s good now.” He smiled brightly. You felt all the blood run to your cheeks. “Do you uh, do you mind fixing this for me?” He said, stumbling over his own words, handing over the dark green textile.
“Of course, easy fix.” Your fingers brushed his and you felt like your hands had been set on fire. Shaking, you began stitching the fabric back together. You knitted your brows together as you worked, not wanting to see his face any longer, the more you stared at your hands, the worse they shook. This tear made no sense, it was cleanly cut with a knife. Neteyam had purposely ripped his own loincloth. “How did this even happen?” You asked.
“I needed an excuse to come and see you, my (y/n).” Neteyam spoke softly, reaching out to take one of your hands, distracting them from their job. His eyes caught yours, and you knew you were done. So warm, so full of life and love.
“Neteyam-” You started, but he cut you off. Something of which Neteyam had never done before.
“I know you do not see yourself how I see you.” He started, his stare holding you to the spot, you sent a brief prayer to Eywa, that this was not some cruel trick. “You are the most beautiful creature that has ever walked these lands. You care so deeply for the people, the forest.” His hand ran the length of your arm, goosebumps rising in his wake. “I see you. I love you. I want you.” Neteyam said vehemently.
You felt everything, everywhere, all at once. Everything you have ever wanted to hear had fallen out of his mouth like it was always meant to be. It sounded so right. It sounded natural and real. It was so out of character for Neteyam, to be so open, so raw and honest with his feelings.
So, under the guise of love, you acted out of character too. Like for like.
Taking his beautiful, soft face between your small, shaking hands, you kissed him. Pulling away for breath, you remembered what needed to be said.
“I have always seen you, Neteyam.”
#avatar#avatar 2009#avatar 2022#avatar twow#avatar domestic#neteyam sully#neteyam x reader#neteyam#jake sully domestic#jake sully platonic#jake sully x neytiri#jake sully#jake sully x reader
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Could I request Zhongli reuniting with his wife after the two had a falling out 500 years ago?
crushed cor lapis.
↳ zhongli × gn!immortal!artist!reader
↳ part one, part two
↳ genre: soft angst at the beginning, but it's mostly bittersweet | wordcount: 1.6k | warnings: none
↳ notes: i ended up with less angst than i thought i would have. but i did want to explore the thought of time passage and fighting for people who are going to live forever, even if it's subtle; reader is immortal and implied to be an adeptus or a god, but the kind isn't very important; ive had an idea for zhongli and an artist reader for a long time so i tried to combine it i hope you don't mind; as with the gender. i did write with a fem!reader in mind as per the request but in the end, the gender didn't need to be specified for anything so i left it gender neutral; i tried to give reader a more divine disposition about them so the writing ended up really flowery, but in any case i hope you enjoy! i really did have fun writing this one
You were a painter.
In your old life, as you liked to call it, however, you were a god. Your domain of influence laid in artistry and beauty.
Or rather, that was what Morax used to tell you. Archons like him were the only beings in Teyvat with real domains of influence. But you wouldn't really stop him if that was his way of calling you pretty.
That was about five hundred years ago. Nowadays was a very different story.
You crushed the yellow berries in your mortar and pestle to turn into paint for tomorrow's commission.
You liked your job in Liyue Harbor. As quaint and.. human as it was, you thought there was divinity to be found in the painstaking recreation of the things around you. Though a painting couldn't rival a Kamera in terms of accuracy, you were certain it completely surpassed the device in most other things.
You slowed your movements, surveying the consistency of the paint and the color. That would probably do. You'd collected quite a lot, so you supposed it was time to head back. All you were really lacking earlier was yellow.
And so you trekked on home from the terraces, skipping over stumps of cor lapis and sunset-painted grass along your way.
As you finally reached your home in the harbor, the sun had fully gone down. The lanterns lit, casting the entire city in a soft, warm glow. The neighboring waters reflected the deep blue of the sky and the speckles of rust and gold adorning every building in sight.
You opened your door and you thought of Morax, wondering if he knew five hundred years ago what beauty would settle upon his previously war torn nation. Leaning on the doorframe, you watched over it for a while. Children playing, kites flying, dinner being prepared, laughter and joy running amok.
You don't like to think about him too much, or how his silence is present in every part of the city that was all him, despite having nothing to do with him any longer. No matter how much time had passed, you seemed stuck in the first night he decided not to apologize.
Still, five hundred years was a long time. Although it felt like the blink of an eye, even immortals had to move on eventually.
You gathered your materials inside and closed the door behind you.
—
The mountains may erode, but they will always be mountains.
You recalled his own words as you saw him again for the first time in five hundred years.
A human-sized Rex Lapis stood before you, hands behind his back, dressed to the nines, pristine, and put together, and perfect, and not at all like he ought to have seemed like at your first meeting in several centuries. Though at the very same time, you couldn't imagine him looking any other way.
You bitterly savored the way he avoided your eyes in front of his boss.
"So this is him!" She said. The lively Director Hu Tao of the local funeral parlor was Rex Lapis's boss. You tried not to laugh. "Our new consultant, Mr. Zhongli."
You set your canvas down onto its easel, then the bulk of your dyes and paints on the floor. You did this without averting your eyes, as if trying to burn him if he ever had the nerve to look back at you.
He did not. And to her credit, it seemed Hu Tao noticed it as well. So as not to make your client too uncomfortable, you decided to take a step towards them.
"Mr. Zhongli." You said. With the proximity you put between you, he had no choice but to look back at you. Not a lot changed about him in human form, but by far, his eyes were the most the same. Down to the hard, intense stare, and the set of his brows. You wondered how many other people in Liyue he'd enchanted with them while he was busy avoiding you.
"Mr. Zhongli?" You repeated, a little less amused. Though you somewhat enjoyed how stupefied he looked at your appearance, you'd endured his silence long enough. "My name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet you here."
This seemed to regain him his senses. That, or Hu Tao's suspicious back and forth glances between the two of you.
Zhongli cleared his throat.
"..The honor is mine."
Hu Tao nodded, seeming satisfied for now. She clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to you.
"Alright! I suppose I'll leave you to it then. I have complete faith that you'll be able to depict the poise and elegance of my esteemed consultant."
You gave her your best half smile.
"Well, I'll try."
"No need to be modest! I've seen your work before. You're one of, if not the best, painter in Liyue. Just ask Mr. Zhongli! He's been very taken with your paintings even before we first met. He speaks very highly of you."
You crossed your arms. "You don't say?"
Five hundred years or the blink of an eye, you could still see his embarrassment without him having to say a word.
—
Director Hu Tao had business to take care of for the funeral parlor, and so left with a flourish, and a "Make sure to get his good side!" as she ran off.
You both continued to speak as civilians for a little while. He sat down at a table on the porch, a steaming pot of tea on said table between you. Your face was obscured to him through the thick white canvas.
Avoiding conversation was easy, but not. Comfortable, but not. Natural, but not. It shouldn't have been. As such was the nature of a marriage to the Geo Archon, you supposed. Or rather, the current lack thereof. But even that was up in airs.
"How.. How have you been?"
Your responding glare was unseen to him, but he heard it in the vitreous tone of your reply.
"Fine." You said. "Something must've happened to you though. Your eloquence seems to have disappeared into thin air."
"..You are still upset. I see."
"In what world would I be upset, Mr. Zhongli?" Your use of his mortal name created a crease in his brow. You gently brushed over it on his painting.
"I didn't think you'd want to see me."
"You still could've asked." You muttered, momentarily leaning sideways to look him in the eye. "For someone so revered for his wisdom, your brain still seems to be as hard as rocks."
You caught his surprised expression as you turned back to the canvas. You didn't allow him another word.
"Honestly, who ghosts their own spouse after an argument like that? You'd think the best time would be after.. five hours. Five days. Maybe five weeks after. Not five centuries—"
You caught him mumble, "Well, it's not as if you tried to talk to me either."
"I didn't think I needed to. You made it very clear you wanted me to leave you to die in the Archon War all on your heroic lonesome."
When he didn't respond, you snuck a glance.
The sun's rays were at the precipice of turning gold in its descent into the sea. The glow smeared his porcelain cheeks in amber, his eyes in glitter, the metallic components of his suit in light. He looked like a monument. Tall, statuesque, and lonely. Almost like his mountainous true form. More beautiful than even his numerous statues across Liyue could capture. More than you could capture. Though you did certainly try.
Annoyed and angrily pining as you were, you still tried to get his eyes right. The little flecks of rust against gold. Like cuts of cor lapis crushed to shimmering powder in the Archon's hand. A man of his own making.
You looked at Zhongli as the golden hour faded, slowly turning dusky pink. His eyes swam in wistfulness as he stared out at the harbor. You couldn't help the dull twinge of sorrow deep in the pit of your stomach.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
You didn't know how to follow up. You weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for. But it felt nice to hear it back from him.
When he finally looked back at you, you were tracing the rich scarlet of his eyeliner onto the canvas.
At some point, he turned on the lamp and set it down beside you while you worked on the finishing touches.
"You're better than I remember." He whispered like he thought you couldn't hear him.
You weren't sure what to say to that either. You just kept painting.
—
"This doesn't change anything. I'm still angry with you."
"Of course."
Zhongli never seemed to run out of tea. Despite not having brewed a new pot throughout your stay, the one on the table continued to steam, its aroma wafting leisurely throughout the room. When he offered you a cup after you left the canvas out to dry, you let yourself take it. You allowed him a calmer response when he spoke.
"This may upset you a bit more, but I am also somewhat bothered you never tried to talk to me."
"So we are at an impasse."
Of course, it did occur to you that you were both being hardheaded and moronic. But you were comforted by a few things.
"It would seem so." Zhongli nodded.
"Or maybe not." You quipped, glancing pointedly at an old painting on the wall. "You seem to have been stalking me, Mr. Zhongli."
"I think stalking might be a slight exaggeration."
"Oh, really."
Even as the mountains erode over the centuries, from the dust, they are fated to reform anew.
dividers from @clutteredfun
#mine#my writing#fics#requests#long post#genshin impact x reader#zhongli#gi zhongli#zhongli x reader#gi zhongli x reader#¡
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lacrymosa [part 1]
clarisse la rue x fem!hecatecabin!reader [boarding school au]
PART 2
summary: you were sent to a prestigious boarding school to be rid from your father as a burden, but when strange things begins to happen upon your arrival, you wonder what truly lies behind the school walls. And as you attract attention from an infamous student, your plans to lie low is disrupted for the semester.
warnings: basically pjo plot in a different font, wlw relationships and what that entails, artist!reader. warnings will be according to the chapter.
wc: 5.2k
a/n: part 2 will hv more clarisse, also I've never been good at finishing series, but here's to an attempt! Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist!
The violent wind coming from outside of the car window sent a sharp shiver down your spine. You readjust your sitting position, pushing your school bag further away from you.
"Would you like to close the window, miss?" The driver asked, sparing a glance to your way. "No, it's fine." You assured him.
You have always liked the cold, it calms your nerves in a way. And for a day like this, you need all the help you can get.
Your father hadn't even been home to see you off for the last time. But you were kind of grateful for that. Usually you'd find it upsetting. But it was a clear decision that he purposely wanted you out of his line of vision when he had registered you into this boarding school.
Prestigious and highly acclaimed, he called it. Those were just polite words for strict and overbearing.
You have stopped wasting time trying to figure out why he hates you. Your mother dying from your birth was only the tip of the iceberg. Your whole existence is a burden to him, no matter how hard you've tried to change it.
I wonder if I'll even miss the hostility he's always given me, or the empty white walls of his mansions that have seen me at my worst and at my best. Those thoughts shouldn't matter anymore, you told yourself.
You've never been happy in that house, but familiarity, sometimes, was better than nothing. You fiddled with your crimson red tie that came with the uniform. What you could tell from the way you're dressed along with the down payment your father had to pay for you is that this place is an exaggerated babysitting place for rich kids with attitude problems.
You've been sent to many places away from your father. Summer camp, Spring camp, summer school and all that. But nothing this far away.
As per your research, the school seemed to be located far from the city and near the mountains up north. There are two buildings divided by gender that stands a few meters away from each other. Not that it'd be a problem for you. You've never been interested in boys much.
It was sunny earlier on the road, but the nearer you are to your destination, the cloudier the sky gets. "Looks like it's about to rain." You mumbled to yourself.
"That's normal here, miss. The weather here's always cold." The driver spoke from the front. You hadn't realized that he heard what you said.
It was a few minutes later when you finally see a large building from a distance. The view lived up to it's reputation even from a far. You feel your heart sinking into a stomach, the anxiety worsening.
This was it. This will be your home for the next 2 or 3 years.
Your driver speeds up once drizzling rain begins to fall down from the sky. You allow him to close the window from his seat and lower down the ac.
Feeling your fingers pruning up, you rub your palms together for warmth after reaching for your bag, pulling it closer to you.
The weather wasn't going to be a problem, and hopefully the people here won't be too.
---
When the car slowed down in front of the entrance, you let yourself take in the view of it all, girls ranging from your ages to younger, walking past of sitting by the stairs. All of them wearing the same thing that you are.
You didn't mean to make the driver open the door for you, but he did anyways as you're too distracted to stop him.
He moves straight to the back to retrieve your other bags as you step out of the vehicle. Some of the girls stopped and stared at you, knowing how rare it is to have new students here.
You couldn't tell what lies behind their long glares and gazes, but you had a feeling that they were eyeing you up like a predator does to their prey. Focusing on the large cream and white colored building staring you down, your heart whispered out a hopeful wish that you could just get back in the car and drive off.
You fix up your plaited skirt and turn towards your driver. "Do you need help to bring these in?" He asks.
You shook your head, immediately taking them into your hands. "No, I got it. But thank you." He smiled warmly as he shut the car hood close. "Have a great year, miss." He tells you politely before walking back to the driver's seat.
And that was the last familiar face you'll ever see for the rest of the semester. You lift up your hand in a tiny wave as you watch him reverse and drive off from the school ground.
You see him wave back before he finally disappears for good.
The staircase made it harder for you and your bags, and if you were expecting any kind eyes to offer some help, none came to it. Instead they all looked at you like you were stupid.
You counted the steps under your breath, stopping when you reached number 5, and then starting back again from 1. It was also an effort to keep your anxiety together, but at certain times like these, you wondered if breathing exercises are all lies made up by a psychiatrist to worsen someone symptom and continue to drive them crazy.
After a couple series of 1 to 5s, you finally made it to the top of the stairwell and into the open doors of the school.
If the rain outside hadn't been freezing your toes, inside was much more brutal. The school is air conditioned, of course it is.
When you said you liked cold, you didn't mean the frozen kind. The strawberry pink socks you're wearing aren't doing you any favors either as you breath out a tired sigh, full hands dragging your bags with you until you reach a tiny counter with the label "office" above the glass.
A teacher, or a guardian, sits inside, working on some paperwork. She looked up when she heard the rolling sound of the wheels on your bag and offered a small smile.
"You're new here, I take it?" You nodded your head and pursed your lips tightly. "Can I have your name?"
You gave her the information needed, from yoir name to your birth certificate. And once she's done compiling the necessary paperworks into a file, she stacks it in the shelves behind her.
"Here's your class schedule, and here's your dorm key." You slid the key onto your pocket and slipped the paper under your arms as you listened to her explaining how the dorm building is in a complete other side of this place, and that you'd have to drag your bags back down the lengthy staircase and walk another 6 minutes towards the other building on the left of the school. Not to be mistaken with the boy's dorms on the right.
You ignored the continuous staring from the other student as you forced yourself down again, and into the left.
The road to the dorm was nicely designed, a straightly drawn black and white concrete pavement in squares with grass on its side. It made the place look more homely. But of course, it wasn’t really gonna fool anyone.
The dragging became easier on the ground. You thanked the gods once you got to the other building once you spotted an elevator. Your first thought was, oh thank fuck for these rich assholes. And your second thought was, oh these are some real rich assholes.
There are less staring here since mostly everyone is already in school. You took your time walking once you're out of the elevator, reading the large signs of the dorm level names.
There are 20 levels to be accurate. And yours, unfortunately, is level 20.
You stood up straight in that elevator for what felt like a whole 10 minutes until it dinged open. Finding your room was much easier, you didn't have to walk very far to find your door. You used the key given to you to unlock the doors and pushed your bags into the room first before you.
You halted for a minute when you met with two strange girls from the inside.
Your roommates apparently have not gone to their classes yet and are still here. They looked at you expectantly as you stared right back.
"Uh-" your daydreams broke. "I'm new here." You announced.
One of the two laughed slightly and shook their head. "We know, we were waiting for you. I'm Harper, and this is Olivia." They extended their hands and you shook them without question.
"So, where'd you come from?" Olivia asks. She had beautiful green eyes and wavy blonde hair. Harper on the other hand, had dark hair and bold blue eyes. Next to each other, the two looks quite the pair. You began rearranging your bags on your side and taking out important things needed for your classes as you answer their inquiries. "New York."
"A city girl, that's nice. The difference here must be jarring." You snorted whilst you hang your clothes on to your small closet. "Very."
They walked out with you once you were done unpacking, leading you back to the school.
"The teachers won't mind you being late, with you being new and all that. But make a habit out of it and you'll get a penalty for it." Harper explained. "Penalty?"
They both nodded and kept on walking up towards the entrance. "Attendance is very important, this isn't public school, lying about health problems to get out of class or skip and disappear for more than 3 times, you could get expelled."
That is insane, you thought. "I didn't know they're that strict." Harper smirked and shrugged at that. "Yeah, I mean unless you're a legacy student, or your parents donate a lot for the school, you won't get many benefits."
Of course, even among the rich, the most privileged still get to escape justice and fairness. "Are you both legacy students?"
"No." Olivia snorted. "What's your locker number?" She takes a peek at your papers and moved right to your locker, opening it with ease.
"Thanks." You tell her while shoving your books inside of it.
"There aren't many legacy students here." Harper spoke from your side, referring back to your question from earlier.
"There are only certain families with histories deeply rooted within the school walls, like Luke Castellan or Silena.”
Your brows raises at those names as the three of you leaned back on the lockers. "Let me guess, they're brats who can get you expelled?"
"Worse." Olivia corrected with a sarcastic smile. "They can do whatever shit they want to you, and will not get expelled for it."
"But don't worry, half of them are decent, just don't piss them off and they'll leave you alone." You nod in understanding, knowing that it was your plan anyways, even if they hadn't warned you.
"Luke's not even entitled or mean, he's actually pretty nice. He helped me take out a book from the library once." Olivia added, wiggling her brows.
"You're just saying that because you like him." Harper scoffed and rolled her eyes.
"Even if I didn't, he's still not an ass." The bell rang the minute her sentence was finished. The two girls groaned and started saying their goodbyes before they parted ways to attend their classes.
"Meet up back for lunch?" Harper initiates. "Sure." You told her before following her directions to pre Calculus.
Your brain still hadn't fully registered what just happened. You just made two new friends, and that is a relief. Though you enjoy your alone time along with some quiet and peace, that doesn't mean you don't get lonely or feel isolated. Having bad social skills doesn't exactly equate to joy wanting a social life at all.
You walk into the half filled classroom and scan the space for an empty seat.
Some kids up front started whispering to themselves as they watched you from the corner of their eyes, but none of them tried speaking to you directly.
You flinch when you heard the teacher's voice, booming through the classroom as she enters right behind you. "You're the new girl?" She drops her bag onto her chair and looked you directly in your eyes.
"Yes." The teacher hummed to herself and turned towards her other students. "Do we have any empty seats at the back?" She asks loudly.
"There's one, but it's Chase's." A boy responded. "He's not in today, is he?" He shook his head at her.
"Alright, you can sit there temporarily, I'll ask the boys to bring in an extra table and chair for you tomorrow." You thanked her and walked right to your seat.
Grateful to be seated at the last row by the window, you slumped against the chair, relaxing your back.
The kids at the front stop wasting their time twisting their heads to stare at you, and as the class begins, you tell yourself that maybe this isn't as bad as you thought it'd be.
-
Your first class ever had been less exciting than expected. You had spent the last 20 minutes of the class trying not to doze off.
Barely any sleep came to you last night, considering how nervous you were for this day. All the worries you've had were for nothing, so far it's all been a bore, and all you wanted to do was to crawl back on to your bed at home and escape all of this strangeness.
Get your shit together, you scolded yourself. You've been all alone your whole life, how different is it now?
The girl on the seat next to yours had craned her neck in your direction, trying to peek through your notebook. Instinctively, you closed over it with your arm.
She did not need to see how there are zero equations in your notebook, all replaced with doodles of flowers and frogs.
When all is hopeless, your passion is where you turn to. Life is suffering in parts, but you find that being able to make it into art, makes the suffering less painful, or at least, more manageable.
Your father had never liked how you prefer to spend your time in art class over piano. In fact, when you were much younger, he even took the initiative to throw out all of your sketchbook. You had to find time to practice your drawing when you aren't at home, knowing his ignorance for your privacy.
But here, hopefully, you'll have ample time to draw and paint.
Once the class is dismissed, you make your way straight into the bathroom, trying to get into a booth before it gets crowded. You caught a glimpse of your reflection from the mirror and cringed at yourself. For some reason, even when you're not doing anything, the school air still finds a way to turn your hair frizzy.
You ran into the small space with open doors and knocked it shut as soon as you're in.
You could hear footsteps entering in right after you're done peeing. A cacophony of running sink water and empty chatter fills your ears as you stood up to fix your skirt and your socks.
The zip of your skirt seemed to have an issue getting stuck on a piece of string, holding it back from fully zipping up. You lifted it up higher and pulled the string out before using your teeth to rip it off of the zip and waving it onto the floor.
There was a moment of silence outside the door just before you were going to exit it. But a loud sound of slamming doors and laughter stops you at your place.
"Lock the doors." You hear another female voice command. She was not shouting, but she had a bold voice that seemed fit for a leader, straight to the point and confident.
Any noise of giggling or chatting immediately died down the moment the girl and her friends stepped in, and now you wonder if getting out would be a good idea at all. So you stayed quiet inside the bathroom.
Your palms are held against the door while you lean into it, trying to hear her clearer.
"What did I tell you last week?" The girl spoke again. She sounded upset or the second worst thing, disappointed.
Another voice rose up in response, meeker in comparison. "You said to have it by Monday."
"It's Wednesday today."
"But I have it now!" The other girl pleaded. "I don't care. I asked for it on Monday, you're two days late." The silence that came after her words was worrying. It was only when she spoke again that you felt your racing heart slowing down.
"You know what you're gonna do right now?" She asks. Silence. "You're going to hand me the money, and then you're going to give me 20 on the ground, right here."
20 what? You frowned in confusion. Money?
You expected resistance, begging, or even defiance from the other girl, but you only heard a resigned sigh from the other side of the door.
The door creaked slightly. You tried to balance yourself away from it when you accidentally slipped. Your fingers reach for the door handle to pull yourself up, and just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the door slams back on its hinges. You cursed yourself internally.
"What the fuck." The first girl snapped. "Booth number 2." She called out. "Get out of there right now or I'll break the door now."
Your breath hitches at the direct interaction and your hands hesitate to unlock the booth. But you'd rather get it over with than risk being taunted in a toilet.
You unlatch the lock with your fingers and slowly pull open the door. The first face you're met with is the one you assume who had addressed you seconds ago.
She had a naturally terrifying expression, with her brows knitted together and her hair pulled up in a ponytail. The bronze skinned girl connecting her gaze to yours.
The staring did not last as she soon started eyeing you up and down like she's analyzing every bad decision you've ever made.
But when she lifts her head back up to your face, you noticed that her frowning had lessened slightly. "You're new." She states aloud.
"How'd you know?" You ask her. "Anyone who's been here for more than a week would have the mind to run out of the bathroom as soon as they heard me." She answered coolly, taking a few steps nearer to you.
"What's your name?" She asks you. You tell her your first name.
She hums in acknowledgement before repeating your name, letting the syllables roll against her tongue. "I assume you haven't been making any friends yet, have you?"
You tried not to look to her side at the girl that was currently half squatting on the floor. "You're making her do push ups." You think aloud, ignoring her question.
"What? Oh, her? She's not important, and she's lucky i’m only making her do 25." The girl waved off like it's a silly joke. "I thought you said 20?" The other girl muttered under her breath.
She snapped her head at the younger girl and glared at her. "One more word and I'll make it 30."
Turning her head back to you, the anger she bore dissolved. "It's a good thing you've met me," she started. "In this place, it's all about making the right type of friends, just in case and not enemies."
"I don't plan on making enemies." You tell her. She was trying to intimidate you. Or at least, ruffle your feathers.
"No one does, but they just do it anyways without realizing." She answers with a shrug.
"And I suppose, if I'm with you, I won't fall down that road?" You didn't mean for it to sound insulting or sarcastic, but when she raised a brow in response, a ghost of smirk over her face, you realized that it was too late to take back your words.
"No, you won't. Because I am that enemy that you should be avoiding." You wondered if she is one of those people that's all talk and no bite, but the way she's folding her arms together as she stands inches away from you, radiated something much more sinister than you'd expect from a typical bully.
"I have to go." You say suddenly, a sense of urgency filled you when you remembered that Harper and Olivia would be waiting for you in the cafeteria. "I won't tell anyone about this." You added, trying to make sure there'd be no bad blood between the two of you.
"You can tell anyone you'd like, it wouldn't matter." She replies, stepping away from you to lean her back on the sink counter.
You clicked your heels away from her and made your way out, taking off the locks before you could swing the door open. You could feel her gaze on you as you left, but didn't twist your head back to confirm.
It didn't matter who she was. A few hours from now you'd forget you even met her, and just like always, you'll blend in with the crowd and be out of her sight.
---
"Where have you been?" Harper inquired once you sat next to her.
She had half a donut in her mouth as she asked this. "Don't talk with your mouth full." You chided her. She groans and mumbles something else you can't understand but chews the food until she's finished before she speaks again.
"We waited for like 10 minutes, you know recess isn't that long." You took a bite of your own sandwich and shrugged at her like nothing. "I was in the bathroom, there was a line." Harper nodded in understanding, but Olivia made a face of disgust as she toyed with her food.
"I hate the bathroom here, the dorm bathrooms are better." She said.
"What if you really need to pee?" You ask in disbelief. "I hold it in."
"What if you had explosive diarrhea?"
"Well, that would suck." Harper chokes out laugh, trying not to spit out her donut. You joined her with a chuckle, shaking your head at your friend.
"Your fear of public bathrooms will be the death of you." Harper quipped after taking a long sip of water. "I think it makes me stronger." Olivia argues.
"Well, I think it's gonna mess with your bladder." The brunette argues back. You listen to their back and forth until the bell rings again, indicating the end of recess.
You were a bit bummed that your classes aren't aligned with theirs, your nerves are much less triggered when they're around, a sense of familiarity of a sort.
Though, there was nothing you can do about it. You say your goodbyes at your lockers and parted ways again for your last 2 classes. The rest of school time was made bearable with the reminder that you at least shared rooms with your two new friends, and so there was nothing to worry about at all actually.
A part of you feels safer when you're around them. Though your mind is constantly bringing up the girl you've met in the bathroom. Her brown eyes and the way she looked at you.
She didn't strike you as someone admirable, but you had to admit, her features were remarkable. You had pulled out a pencil and a paper for a quick sketch of her eyes during Literature class.
It only hit you then, that you haven't even asked for her name. She knew yours, but you didn't know hers.
What would it matter? You asked yourself. If all goes well, you'll never see her for the whole semester at all. And she'd be nothing more than another face in your sketchbook.
You paid attention to the lesson, but your hands just needed something to work on while you were listening. Tapping your fingers repeatedly on the table was getting old, so you got productive and drew up a little something.
You had managed only half of her face on the paper by the time the class ended. Slipping the book into your tote bag, you follow the rush of students leaving class and heading back to your locker to switch your books for the last class.
-
It was 8pm when you were finally in the dorm elevator, back against the cold silver metal, relieving the warmth that radiated off of your body. The gym here is open all day and night, and even if the only equipment they had was a treadmill, you intended to utilise them fully.
Working out helps to take your mind off things, and it tires you out enough to help you sleep easier at night.
And so while everyone went back to their dorms, you stashed your bag by the gym entrance and tied your hair back up and went ahead for a good 40 minutes run.
You kept your eyes on the elevator level, watching the number get higher and higher until it eventually reached 20. It dinged open and allows you out with your poor tired feet and worn out expression.
It was quiet on the top floor, nothing like you’d predict what with the hour still being early. The small light bulbs above your head led you straight down the long corridor until you reached your room.
You took out your key and slashed it into the keyhole and heard your friends’ voices evolving from muffled noises into a clearer state as you pushed the door open.
You expected the girls to scold you over your absence again, as you do make it a habit of going places without letting them know, but what you didn't expect once you enter your dorm room, is for them to genuinely fret over your late arrival.
"You can't just disappear without telling anyone!" Olivia exclaimed, her large green eyes staring into your soul as you took your uniform off. "I was at the gym." You explained.
“In your school clothes?” Harper scrunches her nose in disagreement. “Hey, it's convenient.” You retorted.
"Were there other people there?" You shook your head no. "Well, maybe next time we'll go with you. I know you're not used to the unspoken rules here, but there are seriously more creeps than you can imagine in this place."
They were both sitting on their beds as they're talking to you, fully dressed in their matching pajamas like twins.
Harper had a face mask on as she rested her head on her pillows, her elbows used to help her sit up. They had music playing in the background, a song you recognized as Tourniquet by Evanescence. “I love this song.” You say randomly.
“Don’t change the subject.” You look over at them in confusion once you're finished changing.
"I didn't know it'd be such a big deal, I'm doing what everyone else does."
"I know, but I'm just saying, maybe we should all just play it safe for the semester. We don’t want another Samara accident." Harper reasoned.
You walked over to sit by the edge of her bed and asked her who's Samara.
"Samara Turner. She's a senior from last year. Some kid found her passed out by the back garden, her eyes were rolled back, and she was basically frothing from the mouth. When the ambulance came, it was too late. She was gone."
“Are you just making this up to scare me?” You ask them suspiciously. “No!” Olivia denies. “It's a real story, the teachers covered it up real good for future students, not even the news got a hold of Samara's fate.”
"Does anyone know what really happened?" You questioned them.
"The police ruled it as an overdose, but I can't imagine any type of drug running through her veins. And also, in the garden? That's just weird." Olivia says, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You guys think someone drugged her?" Harper shrugged and pursed her lips, inconclusive.
"Either way. It happened when she was alone. What was she even doing in the garden late at night? No one knows. But everyone will point their finger right back at her and say it's her own fault." You understood what they meant. This place isn't as picture perfect as it seemed, just like any other place, it has its holes and flaws.
"Okay, the next time I'm going anywhere other than my classes, I'll let one of you know." Harper and Olivia smiled and looked relieved. You could tell they were satisfied by your answer. "And if we're going anywhere, we'll tell you."
"Okay." You assured them.
You've never really known what it was like to have people worry over you this way. Most of the time, people were grateful when you minded your own business and hid away. And sure there is a little bit of annoyance that comes with being scolded like a child, but it also felt good to have someone care for you this way.
You folded your knees onto your chest, repositioning yourself on her bed. It is only after you move closer to her that you notice your sketchbook on her side table.
"Where'd you find that?" You jolted up, eyes widening..
"Oh, this is another thing we wanted to ask you about." Harper exclaimed, stretching her arm towards the book and passing it over to you. "Clarisse came over here like 15 minutes ago, said you dropped this."
"Who's Clarisse?" You frowned.
"Oh that's funny, you don't know who Clarisse is, and yet she's talking about you like you've been friends for ages." Harper says it like a mother hen catching her daughter red handed, but you're only further confused.
"No, seriously. Who's Clarisse?"
Olivia sighed from her bed and waved her hand exaggeratedly. "Curly hair, dark skin, looks like she can dropkick you in 6 different ways." Instantly, something in your brain clicked.
"Oh, her." Their expression changed into curiosity as they await for you to add more.
"I...met her in the bathroom. She was making a kid do pushups. But we barely talked, I just left."
"Yeah well, she asked where you were when she came by, and we told her we didn't know. And then she gave me this." You opened the book and found that the page with her face on has been ripped away.
Something eats away at your heart when you saw the torn pages, but you said nothing and instead just tossed the book onto your own bed. "What's her deal anyways." You huffed.
"Legacy students, they're all a little entitled like that, her more than others." Olivia answered.
"Oh, she's entitled alright." You muttered to yourself and rolled your eyes.
"I think I'm just gonna go catch up on homework now, unless there's anything else you two want to nag me on." Harper snorted and shoved you playfully but still smiled.
"No, no more nagging." Olivia concluded.
#clarisse pjo#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x reader#pjo series#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson x reader#pjo x reader#dior goodjohn#dior goodjohn x reader
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So thrilled you’re taking requests! I love winter themed fics this time of year. I’m requesting modern Aemond (if not allowed then Michael Gavey) + stuck in this cabin until the storm passes/come sit by the fireplace. As much smut as you’d like with maybe a teeny bit of angst?
Thank you for taking requests, I know they will all be lovely
A/n: Took the liberty of making this a Michael Gavey request 😈 Also this gif is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!! Shoutout @barbieaemond and all the other amazing gif makers on here. These guys are such an integral part of fandom and they deserve all our love, appreciation and credit ❤️✨
Words: 2.9k
Warnings: 18+, slight angst, handjob, thigh riding (ish), Michael Gavey being awkard, but not quite a virgin
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“Fucking skiing holiday. Should have fucking known this would be a fucking disaster.”
Michael’s foul mouth hardly phases you anymore. When you first met him you thought he’d be a shy type of guy, with his baby blue shirts, cargos and wire frame glasses he kept pushing up with his middle finger.
You’d quickly found that he wasn’t at all like you expected. He can be abrasive, often judgemental and vulgar, not so unlike your other friends but with Michael it seems to come from a place of unashamed honesty. You sort of admire him for it.
He’s pacing the small living room and kitchen of the cabin, furiously fiddling with his mobile. You’re kneeling by the wood burning stove, hovering a lighter by the kindling in the hopes that you can light a proper fire.
You’re surprised he agreed to go on this trip at all.
You have a few friends who do Maths, and at the start of second year they started inviting Michael to the pub on the weekends. You recognised him from your trips to the library, where he’d usually sit alone after his friend ditched him for Felix Catton.
They’d been all talking about a skiing trip between Christmas and New Year, to this little Italian village in the Alps. You didn’t— and still don’t— actually know how to ski, but spending a few nights in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow sounded like a dream. Michael had been sceptical at first but you’d managed to convince him to come when you said you’d need someone to keep you company when the others were on the slopes.
The others had all gone out as soon as you arrived, leaving Michael to get settled in the cabin.
But it’s turned out to be somewhat of a nightmare. It’s too dark to actually see the snow storm but you can hear it, shrieking and howling against the walls and windows of the cabin. You have no service, no central heating, just the small assortment of snacks you had brought with you, a packet of paprika crisps, a bar of chocolate and a prosciutto sandwich you’d bought back at the main resort, back down the mountain, back in civilisation.
“Fuck, fuck fuck!”
“What now?” You ask, still focused on the fire.
“Mobile’s fucking dead. Shit! I have a charger in my bag but the bloody electricity isn’t fucking working so I can’t fucking charge it!”
You smile to yourself as the kindling catches alight and the flames start to lick at the larger logs.
You glance over your shoulder as Michael tosses his phone on the sofa, runs his hands through his hair and catches his lower lip with his teeth.
“I have plenty of charge on mine,” you say, “I’ll turn it off to save the battery and we can see if the service is working in the morning?”
Michael stares at you for a lingering moment. He can be so intense sometimes, almost unsettlingly so. “You want us to stay here all night?” he says softly.
“People know we’re here. I’m sure someone from the resort will come up when they can. Until then, we just have to wait out the storm.”
He tuts, but he knows you don’t have any other options.
You sit together with your backs against the sofa so that you can be as close to the fire as possible. The heat pleasantly burns your face and skin through your jeans and jumper. Even then, where your arm presses against Michael’s, you feel the warmth of his body beside you.
You grab the crisps and the sandwich out of your bag, offering them both to Michael. He only takes a handfuls of crisps and when you split the sandwich in two he takes the smaller half. You offer him more of the chocolate bar but he insists he’s not hungry. You frown at that. It might not be a Crunchie, but Michael never turns down chocolate.
“How was your Christmas?” You ask, popping a square of chocolate on your tongue.
“Fine,” he says, looking down at his hands, “had dinner with my dad and my nan, went to see my mum on Boxing Day.”
Guilt twinges in your chest. “Are your parents not together?”
“Oh no, they split up a long time ago,” he says, like it should have been obvious.
“I’m sorry.”
He turns to face you, staring intensely. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because I didn’t realise.”
He smiles. You think it’s because he knows you’re nervous. “I’ve been splitting Christmases between my parents every year since I was twelve, I’m well used to it now.”
The topic doesn’t seem to phase him. He takes another crisp from the packet and looks into the fire as he crunches it between his teeth.
The low light reminds you of the nights you’ve sat opposite him in the King’s Arms in Oxford, all the times you’ve been tipsy off wine spritzers and found yourself trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring at him. He’s handsome, especially up close when you can see the details of his face, his lips, his surprisingly pretty eyelashes, the little cleft on the tip of his nose.
When his eyes turn towards you, you think your heart might leap out of your chest.
You take a quick breath, eyes darting around the room, at the fire, the pile of logs beside the stove, the sprinkling of ashes on the floor, but it seems inevitable that you’ll find your way back to him.
“Why did they split up?”
Michael raises his eyebrows but keeps his face solemn. “She left him for someone else.”
“Oh,” is all you can think of to say.
“It happens,” he says. “People always want to find something better. My dad was never the most exciting guy to be around.”
“But what about you?”
He huffs a laugh to himself. “I’m not exactly enticing company either.”
You can’t tell if you just want the conversation to end or if you should say something else.
“It’s not something I can fix,” Michael says. One of his hands rests on his thigh and he slowly flexes it so the tendons shift beneath his skin. “And it’s not something that needs to be fixed. People come in and out of your life, but you move on. That’s just the way it is.”
He’s almost hunched over himself, with his chin tilted down and his glasses sliding down towards the end of his nose.
You’d seen him in the pub once, back in first year, with that friend of his, Oliver Quick. Oliver had gone up to the bar and ended up sitting with Felix Catton and his band of admirers. You’d watched Michael leave the pub and remember your heart shattering for him, for this boy you didn’t even know.
Now, stuck in this cabin, snow swirling past the windows, the sound of the fire crackling a few feet in front of you, and Michael’s side pressed against yours, your heart shatters all over again.
You place your hand over his, and he instantly stops moving. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re great.”
Michael tries not to smile. “You don’t need to flatter me,” he says.
You curl your fingers over his hand and tighten your grip. His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself frowning, because he doesn’t understand, because he doesn’t see himself the same way you see him.
“I mean it. You’re funny, even when you don’t even mean to be, and honest, and straightforward…”
You glance down at his lips, slightly parted as he listens to you. It crosses your mind to lean in closer, but something stops you.
“I really love that we’re friends,” you say.
Michael looks down at your hands. His lips are pressed together.
He doesn’t want this, you think. He doesn’t want me.
So you pull away, with a little smile to keep it friendly.
He blinks a few times as he looks back at your face. “Thanks,” he says, softly.
He stands, and you don’t think you can bear to look at him as he moves towards the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
You turn your attention to the fire, add another log for good measure and poke at the glowing embers in its heart.
You hear movement behind you, footsteps and fabric.
When you look back you see Michael has his arms full with pillows and blankets. He layers some of the blankets on the rug, and soon he has two makeshift beds, one on the sofa and one on the floor.
“What’s this?” You ask.
“We’ll freeze in the bedrooms without the heating, we might as well make use of the fire.”
It’s a good call, and now that you have somewhere to sleep you start to realise how tired you are.
You rummage through your suitcase and pull out a pair of pyjamas you got for Christmas. Michael changes in one of the bedrooms and comes back in one of his maths pun t-shirts and a pair of red and black bottoms.
You go to lie in the bed on the floor but Michael puts his hand on your shoulder and insists you sleep on the sofa.
Even with the heat of the fire on your face and the blanket pulled up to your chin, you can’t stop shaking. Your limbs are frozen and your skin is tight, but it feels deeper set than that. You feel the cold in your chest like a fever.
It feels like hours have passed and you still can’t sleep.
“I can hear your teeth chattering,” Michael’s voice grumbles below you. You peer down over the edge of the sofa. He’s turned away from you, towards the fire. You hadn’t even realised he was still awake.
“It’s fucking cold,” you say, wincing at the quiver in your voice.
Michael shifts to his other side so he’s facing you. You’ve never really seen him without his glasses, and he looks completely different, somehow softer, not as harsh.
“We’ll be warmer if we, if we share,” he says quietly.
His suggestion weighs heavy in the space between you, unless it’s just in your head. You can already imagine yourself pressed against him, feeling the warmth from his body and letting it sink into yours.
You don’t trust yourself not to try something stupid either.
You take the blanket with you. The floorboards are piercing against your bare soles so you step on the balls of your feet, quickly slotting yourself by Michael’s side, on the layers of blankets.
He’s facing you now, your noses must only be inches apart and you feel his breath running over your cheek.
You try to steady your own breathing, but it only makes your heart beat faster.
You see his neck move as he swallows. “Come here,” he mutters, and brings his arm around you, pressing his palm to your back to pull you closer into his chest.
You let your arm drape over his side and your legs intertwine with his. You need the heat, tucking your head in under his chin and resting the side of your face against him.
You move with the rise and fall of his chest, breathe in the scent of him with every breath, hear his heartbeat against your ear.
If you shifted your head slightly, your lips would meet the base of his throat.
Want tightens and lingers in your stomach, but curled up under Michael’s arm, you let its dull ache soothe you to sleep.
You wake slowly, opening your eyes to cold sunlight glaring through the windows. In your haste to get warm last night, you had apparently forgotten to draw the curtains. All you see on the other side is white, the snow now settled and piled high.
The fire has long since died and the air is colder than it was when you fell asleep, sharp as you take a breath through your nose.
It’s still warm where your cheek meets Michael’s chest, where his hand rests against your back and your bodies are pressed together.
It feels good to be so close to him. He’s still asleep, as far as you can tell. You hear the heavy sound of his breathing, air fluttering in his throat and passing through his pouted lips.
As you start to become more aware, more awake, a warm wanting stirs in your gut and between your legs.
It’s a stupid little crush, one you’ve not been able to distract yourself from these last few months.
You start to trace your fingertips over his chest, feeling where his chest is hard, then soft, and remember everything you said to him the night before, and what you perhaps should have said.
You nuzzle your face in closer to him, to the clean scent of his t-shirt and something else that is so uniquely him.
You try to stay like this for as long as possible, even if it’s torture not to want more.
“You’re moving a lot,” he mutters. You feel his voice rumbling in his chest and humming against your head like it’s a part of you.
Only when you freeze do you realise you’ve been rocking your hips, every hint of friction you get against the fabric of your pyjamas only fueling your hunger. But you’ve stopped now, resting your palm against his stomach.
“I’m cold,” you say.
“Hmm,” he says, resting his lips and his chin against your head, over your hair, “I don’t feel cold.”
The low rasp of his voice only makes you want him more.
The lingering haze of sleep must be clouding your judgement, your sense.
You tilt your head up, brushing your lips over his throat like you’d imagined. You feel him shudder, and feel his stomach tighten under your touch.
He utters your name in a breathless whisper as he paws at your back and pushes his hips into yours. His arousal is evident, hard and pressing to your centre through two layers of fabric.
And then he pauses, and his hand slips away.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says.
You drag your hand down a little further, to slip under his t-shirt and feel the ridges of his surprisingly toned stomach, just above the waistband of his bottoms. “Why are you sorry, Michael?”
“I don’t know, I just…” he huffs in frustration as his hand returns to your body, gripping at your waist through your shirt.
You start to snag your fingers on the waistband, and realise he’s forgone wearing any boxers to bed. “Do you want me to help you?” You whisper, unable to hold back a grin.
“Yes, fuck, please,”
A whine sounds in his throat as you shift his bottoms down just enough to free his cock, and close your hand around it. He’s bigger than you expected, long and thick, heavy, hard and soft-skinned as you stroke, up, down, up, down.
You enjoy the feel of him, run your thumb over his weeping tip as he starts to pant and try to hold back his moans, leaning against you and ghosting his lips against your temple.
You only feel yourself becoming more and more desperate. You hook your leg over his, grinding your core against his thigh. Sparse sparks of pleasure course through your body, not enough for a release, but it still feels good.
You tilt your head again, eagerly pressing your lips to his. He seems taken by surprise at first, but meets you with clumsy enthusiasm. He kisses you like it might save him from something. Once or twice he seems to lose track, dragging his lips to the corner of your mouth only to pull you back into him.
The movements become more and more frantic, your hand pumping Michael’s cock, his hips bucking under your touch.
“Fuck,” he hisses against your lips, “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close.”
You rock particularly hard against his thigh, and he brings his hand to your rear, squeezing at your flesh and urging you on.
You tease your lips against the shell of his ear, smiling at the wanton noise he makes as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
“Are you gonna cum for me Michael?” You whisper as you up the pace.
“Please,” he grunts, “please…” and suddenly he’s moaning against your skin, holding you tightly as you feel his cock pulse in your hand as he spills over your fingers and knuckles.
You quickly move your head back so you can look at him, eyes fluttered shut, jaw slack and tongue just peeking out from behind his teeth.
“You’re so pretty,” you say quietly.
He blinks his eyes open, looking down at you with a dazed smile. “You think I’m pretty?”
“So fucking pretty,” you say, with another drag against his thigh.
He hums, low and cryptic in his chest. “Do you need some help there?”
Before you can answer he’s slipped his hand underneath your pyjamas. He cups your bare, wet cunt, lightly circling over your clit with the tip of his finger.
“Fuck you’re soaked,” he mutters, all but teasing your lips as he leans in to kiss you. “Got yourself all worked up, hmm?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, “fuck, don’t tease me, please…”
“Now, sweetheart,” he coos as he presses more firmly against you, hastening his movements so your breath catches in your throat. “We might still have a few hours before anyone comes to get us, and I can think of more than a few ways to pass the time.”
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