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#she should not be trusted with this power at all! in the slightest! but yet there she goes!

changbunnies · 5 months

Text

Aurora (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Felix x Duke's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: light angst, fluff, arranged marriage au, royalty au, historical au, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, slow burn-ish ??, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 21.8k

♡ Summary: Y/N, a duke’s daughter in the southern territories of Miroh, is promised to crown prince Felix in the north in the hopes that the dueling territories will reach peace. Yet, despite how much she initially loathes the idea of being married and away from her family, she can’t help but fall in love with the prince she was promised to.

♡ Warnings: outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, felix is nothing but sweet but it takes the reader time to trust him, attempted cheating (not from reader or felix, you'll see), 1 mention of having children, kind of possesive felix? but not too much, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): felix calls reader "my love" (yes this needs a warning), so much kissing!! so many "i love you's!!" (a changbunnies smut staple), reader and felix are virgins, nipple play, oral (f + m receiving), handjob, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my ao3 where it is divded into chapters here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You knew well the day would come where you would be married off to a family looking to expand their power. You knew that you would have to leave behind all things you found familiar and comfortable to live in your husband’s estate. You knew that your responsibilities as a nobleman’s daughter would catch up with you sooner rather than later. And despite knowing all these things in your mind, your heart had not felt prepared for the reality of your fate in the slightest.

Your night was spent in a grand ceremony of music and laughter as two families, one yours and the other your now husband’s, as well as commoners from all over the bustling town you would now call home, celebrated your new union. You were now Lee Y/N, wife to the northern king’s one and only son, Felix. And while there was high likelihood that Felix would not sit on the throne for decades, the choice of who would become his wife was still something that had to be decided with the utmost care in the event that an unexpected tragedy befell his father.

Though you were not a princess, you were the eldest daughter of a grand duke. You were raised in elegance and novelty that most would never have the privilege of living in. You were also graceful, well mannered, and adored by your father’s people in the south, which was something the king valued when seeking out the ideal partner for his only heir. And with your union to the prince now solidified, the country was ever closer to a more unified and prosperous existence.

The ceremony itself consisted of fake smiles you had long practiced from a young age; a mask of joy and grace to hide your inner tumultuous feelings. When the celebrations had come to a close, and the time came to bid your farewells to your family as they made the long journey back home to the south, you did your best to hold back the tears and see them off with a smile. You played the role you had been taught by your elders well, giving polite words of parting to the commoners who made it the ceremony and maintaining an elegant air around the royal family that you were now a part of.

Felix let out a relieved sigh when the last of the guests departed, turning to you, his now wife, with a gentle smile afterwards. “Shall we retire for the night as well?” he asks as he holds out his arm, clearly offering it to be linked with yours. You accept the offer easily, deciding that if anyone saw you reject your husband on such an offer it would reflect badly on your family’s manners. The last thing you needed were rumors to circulate about your parents ‘not raising you right.’

“I hope you’re not too ill at ease,” he says as you exit the ballroom together, “meeting your betrothed on the same day as your ceremony is quite a shock.” He’s certainly not wrong about that; it was easily the greatest shock of your life. In fact, you spent much of your month-long journey to the northern lands in denial, utterly convinced it must be a falsehood, or some manner of prolonged bad dream you would surely wake from.

Only on your arrival in the morning, when you had finally seen the royal castle with your own eyes and met your suitor and his family face to face, did your reality smack you squarely in the face. The truth of things could no longer be rejected; you were going to be married this evening whether you wished it so or not. You were left with no choice but to conform in that very moment, to accept your fate for what it is.

“Yes, it took me no small measure of adjustment, but I am grateful that you and your family have spared no effort in accomodating me.” You offered a kind word- after all, it was no lie that his family were much kinder people than you had expected them to be. Once you reached the age of maturity, your family received countless marital requests from various suitors, many of whom were vile men beneath a mask of sincerity. You had watched your cousins marry into many such families, and found yourself dreading the day it would happen to you as well.

While it was undoubtedly unfortunate that you were forced into a marriage, the fact that Felix and his family seemed to hold genuine kindness in their hearts made you quite lucky. However, your luck being better than most did not mean you were happy about any of this. Sure, the fact that you weren’t wed to a boorish man who felt the need to treat you like an object was a good thing, but that didn’t change that the freedom of choice was stripped away from you.

You should feel relief that Felix seems to be a sweet person, or some sort of joy that your new family is seemingly considerate and caring, but you don’t. What you feel instead is.. Well, you aren’t quite sure what name to put to the feeling, though dread felt the closest. Yes, you felt a looming dread over knowing that this was your life now, and you were never, and will never, be given a choice for something different.

“If there is anything at all I can do to help you in this transition, I ask that you do not hesitate to tell me.” Felix’s voice, while still much deeper than you had anticipated it to be, was soft and kind as he made the offer. You could feel a hint of guilt for not appreciating such a thing as much you knew you should- he’s obviously trying his hardest to be kind to you, and despite that you’re just.. Unhappy. There was no other way to put it.

“I will, thank you,” you reply in your perfectly rehearsed well-mannered tone. You may hate the situation you’re in, but you won’t take it out on him. After all, he likely didn’t have a choice in this matter either, and he’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to you thus far. As much as the rebellious part of your brain wishes to kick and scream and throw a tantrum, you don’t want to do anything that would hurt or reflect badly on your new husband.

“This is my- well, our, room,” He says as you approach two large, ornate doors, decorated with a wood carving of the royal family’s emblem standing proudly in the center: two soldiers mirroring each other with swords raised skyward, and a beautiful, intricately drawn phoenix beholden in the center. “We can enter if you wish, but I do not intend to force you to lie with me when you are not yet comfortable being next to me.”

“Truly? Is such a thing alright?” You nearly exclaim, unable to disguise the surprise in your voice at his statement. Felix smiles in the same sweet manner he has all night as he answers, “Of course! I know it’s.. Customary for newlyweds to lie together right away, but I have no desire to force you into an uncomfortable situation. And well.. I do hope that we’ll share a bed in the future, but I am more than willing to wait until you are ready.”

You felt truly taken aback as you stared at him. Sad to say, you half expected his tune to change once the two of you were alone. You'd heard many awful tales of men who are sweet and doting in the eye of the public, but change the moment they are behind closed doors, their true natures and selfish desires exposing themselves once there is no one they have to impress or keep up appearances for. And also sad to say, it wouldn't have surprised you if the crown prince was one of those awful men; men in positions of power love to flaunt and make use of it, flashing their wealth and their status and forcing those beneath them into submission. You were lucky that in your father's lands in the south, you had enough status to prevent those men from harming you explicitly.

But here you were, in a forgein land, married to a man who was second only to his father, the king, a man who held substantial power over you in every regard now that you were wed, and he was giving you the freedom of choice. And then there was the statement that followed- he wants to lie with you, would likely be pleased if you did so this very night, but is willing to wait until you want to of your own regard. It's possible he is simply a smooth talker, years of diplomatic lessons and high social status turning him into a charasmatic liar, an effortless charmer.

Was it in his true character to treat women with such consideration, or were you an exception until he got you where he wanted you? Did he sincerely view you are more than an object to be had, or was he going to play the long game, waiting until the moment you lower your guard and become comfortable to strike? Regardless of the answer, you feel truly thankful in the moment. You've had a whirlwind of emotions today, and not needing to immediately lie with your new husband takes an immense weight of your weary shoulders. You're happy to have the space to decompress alone in your own private space offered to you.

“The maid’s have prepared a room for you further down the hall. Shall I take you?” he asks, the sweet smile having not at all faded. You hesitate a moment before you nod, not wishing to offend him should you appear too eager or if this part of a game he wishes to play, using your vulnerability as a pawn. “Yes, please.” “Very well,” he replies as he leads you further past the room that you are supposed to share together. The walk down the hall is rather quick, ending just a few yards away from your starting point. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted your room to be in proximity to mine in case you have need of me,” he clarifies as you approach the door to what will be your bedroom for the foreseeable future.

“Truthfully, it’s more than I was expecting. I appreciate it,” you smile your first genuine one of the night, truly relieved to not have to share a bed with a relative stranger right away, and to have the space you need to process what your life will be like from this night onward. Felix unlinks your joined arms and opens the door for you to enter, his apparant kindness unfaltering.

The moment you step inside your new room, you are in awe. Even for what is likely a small guest room, it’s still much larger than your bedroom back at your family’s modest estate. The furniture is well crafted and beautifully adorned in gentle blue and white shades. In the corner of the room, you see that your belongings from home have been neatly placed, with essentials on top and personal comforts at the bottom. This surprised you most of all; not only was he kind enough to prepare a separate room for you, but he had all your belongings brought here ahead of time, as if he already knew this would be your answer.

Behind you, Felix stands in the doorway, having not followed you into the room. He wore an expression of anxious anticipation, waiting to hear what you thought of where you’d be sleeping. He was as patient as he possibly could be, hoping silently that whatever opinion you held would be positive. He truly wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here, so that one day you could grow to have a genuine connection with him.

When you turned back towards him, your soft smile made the anxiety welling within his breast wash away in an instant. “It’s to your liking?” he asks, and you respond with a nod. “It’s lovely, thank you.” Truthfully, you felt another tinge of guilt for doubting his pure intentions just moments prior. The way relief instantly washed over his face was a clear indicator that he was truly trying his best to make you comfortable.

“Ah, I’m relieved to hear that!” Felix holds his hand over his heart, as if it had just been racing in his chest; and to be fair, perhaps it was- he did seem genuinely considerate in all his actions, and he must’ve been nervous up to this point. “Before I go, should I call some maids to help you remove your gown? It looks rather intricate, so..” Felix’s observation wasn’t wrong; getting your wedding gown on early this afternoon required the help of your mother, sister, and many others, and you didn’t feel you’d be able to remove everything on your own.

So, you gave your approval to receive the maid’s help, and Felix nods, “I’ll alert them quickly so you can get your rest soon. Knights will also be posted in front of your room at all times starting now, and maids will come to your room routinely, so please notify them if anything is needed urgently.” He was about to turn to leave but stops, hesitantly meeting your eyes one last time before he departs. “Uhm- good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” His smile was bashful, and you found his subtle, soft change in demeanor oddly endearing. While you were still very much uneasy about being in this place, and had your issues with being married, it’d be a lie to say that Felix’s earnest efforts to make you happy and comfortable weren’t helpful, and that maybe with him as your husband, you could be happy someday.

You groan as you are wrestled from sleep by a quick succession of knocks on your door; not urgent in any way, but loud enough to rouse you out of the pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you stand from your bed, rubbing your eyes as you step toward the door. You open it slowly, and come to see Felix standing before you with a tray of various foods in hand. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I brought you breakfast. May I come in?”

You nod and step to the side to allow him entry, letting your assigned guards close the door behind him. “The maids said they couldn’t wake you, so I decided to give it a try at my first available moment,” he explains as he sets the tray down on your bed. “I’m still unsure of your preferences, so I got a little of everything. I hope there’s something here you enjoy.”

It has been just a few weeks since you officially became a member of the royal family and Felix’s wife, but you still often found yourself being taken aback by just how thoughtful and earnest he was towards you. He seemed to have even the little things in mind when trying to accommodate you, and you often found yourself unsure on how to react to such kindness. In the end, you settle for a simple thank you as you climb back to your spot in bed to eat under the comfort of the blanket.

“When you’re finished, I would like to take you on a tour of the castle if you’re not opposed. I believe getting familiar with your surroundings will aid in your adjustment,” he says, watching you carefully for any change in expression. It is true that since your arrival, you’ve spent most of your time holed up in your room, not coming out unless there was need for it.

And though you were perfectly content to continue to do so, you could understand how it would become a problem, not just for Felix but for yourself as well. You can’t spend the rest of your days hiding away in your guest room, and you won’t adjust to your new life any easier if you don’t at least try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

Besides all that, Felix has been incredibly sweet and patient thus far. You owe it to him to try, at the very least. His face lights up when you give your agreement, an earnest delight painting his face. You weren’t sure why he was so eager to offer you comfort, or why he always seemed so happy when you returned his smiles, but that pleasant quality of his was undeniably helpful in easing the ache in your heart.

"I still have some things to take care of with my father before we begin, so take your time finishing your breakfast and getting ready. I'll be back later," he continues to smile as he stands, seemingly excited about what the afternoon will hold for you (and he is excited! There is so much to show you, and he hopes you love everything the castle has to offer.)

Your maids enter the room shortly after Felix departs, ready to help you with whatever you may need, and to begin tidying up once you've finished eating. You're not sure how long Felix will be, so you follow his advice to take your time, leisurely eating your breakfast and making small talk with the maids as you do. You were nervous to speak with them your first few days here, unsure of what sort of dynamic they had with the royal family, but you all warmed up to eachother rather quickly. They were kind, playful but still professional, and the ones around your age were especially excitable when it came to the prospect of gossip and dressing up.

Even when you weren't interjecting into conversation, you enjoyed listening to them talk about romance, what they think of the working men in town, what dresses they plan to buy with their savings and what they'll do when they have a free night to spend out. You especially liked to listen to them talk about Felix; some of them had been here for years, and they knew much about him that you hadn't come to learn yet. It seemed that he'd always been sweet and kind, gentle and shy as a boy, but grew more confident with age and experience. Despite that, according to them, there were still many times where you could catch him becoming pink in the face and shyness bloomed over it the way it had when he was still small.

It made you curious- what did Felix look like when he was shy? You were sure he must be beautiful; you're not blind after all, you can clearly see that the man you married is handsome beyond what words could describe. Being against an arranged marriage is completely seperate from recognizing that the man you were promised to looks like he was sculpted straight from God's own hands. But it takes more than beauty for you to have feelings for someone, and that's why you liked hearing the tales of his youth, moments that reflected that the Felix you met is the genuine him, no tricks and no falsehoods. And maybe one day, you would see him be shy, and seeing it would spark feelings in your gut that you hadn't felt since the time you were a child with your first crush.

“Are you ready to begin the tour?” Felix smiles brightly as he holds out his arm for you the same way he had on the night of your marriage. You had just finished taming your hair and tying half of it behind you with a ribbon when he arrived back at your room, free of whatever his duties were and ready to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to you. When you first stepped out, Felix’s timid stare didn’t go unnoticed by the maids, who insisted on helping you despite being told you were capable of getting ready on your own.

You chose a simple, muted yellow gown with white trim accents to wear from the clothes you brought with you from home. It was one of your favorite dresses to wear casually as it was light, airy, and easy to walk in. You had no plans to do anything extravagant, but your assigned maids insisted on you wearing at least some jewelry, so you let them place a pearl necklace on you with dainty earrings to match.

And so, the maids secretly beamed with delight at Felix’s reaction to your appearance (though it wasn’t their added accessories that caught his attention in the first place; it was simply you.) “I’m ready, thank you,” you say as you accept his invitation to link your arms together. Felix shifts his gaze from you to the maids, giving them instructions to finish tidying your room while the two of you are out. They bow politely, getting straight to work on cleaning as you step out of your room, and you can hear their soft delighted giggles even as you are led down the hall.

The tour started about as you expected, with Felix leading you from room to room and stating simple facts such as “this where my older sister and her husband sleep’ or ‘this is the hall where your family will stay when they next visit’ and so on. Typically, daughters move out of their family homes upon being wed, their entire purpose to give their husband’s family a successful lineage and ideal heir, but you suppose a special exception is made when you’re part of the royal family; you wonder how different your life would be if the expectation to leave your family behind wasn’t placed upon you from birth.

He has a younger sister as well, one who has yet to be wed and who you met only briefly, but you wonder if she’ll be allowed to live in the castle as well when her time comes, if her husband’s family will have guest rooms just as yours will, and if she’ll have the luxury to stay in the place she’s familiar and comfortable for her entire life. You know his sisters aren’t much different from you; women often don’t have freedom of choice, and you especially doubt the princesses ever get a say in what comes next for them (even if the king and queen are caring people), but at least they still have their home, and their family right there with them.

You were envious of that; you missed your home and your family so much. Would there ever be a day where you could see the place you grew up in again? How much older would your family be the next time you saw them? Your younger sister, who was still small and naive- how different would she be? How much taller, how much more mature? It saddened you to think about, and you had to consciously make an effort to not think about it any further, and focus instead on the things Felix was showing to you.

He skips past the dining hall and ballroom since you’ve already become well acquainted with them from the wedding ceremony, and instead brings you to the royal library as your next stop. It was an understatement to say it was gorgeous, but you could find no words to do it justice. It was the largest library you’d ever seen, equipped with grand staircases and beautiful handcrafted spandrels carved into the arches. The bookshelves reached up the ceilings and covered every wall, apart from the back section where large ornate windows filtered in sunlight from the gardens outside (which Felix assured you that you’d be seeing soon.)

“This is incredible, I’ve never seen such an impressive library!” you practically beam, unable to hide your excitement at the impressive collection of books. You’ve always been a fan of literature, spending countless hours losing yourself in fantasy worlds and star-crossed romances. “I could spend all my days here and still not read everything,” you muse with a smile as you wind your way through various bookshelves, taking note of every title that peaks your interest.

“With such an extensive collection, there’s bound to be something that suits your tastes,” he says with a smile of his own as he follows you through the winding path of bookcases, “feel free to grab anything you’d like! You are allowed to take from the library as you please.” Oh, you intend on doing just that. You suppose you should start with just a few for now though; the library isn’t going anywhere after all, and neither are you.

It takes some time, but you eventually decide on a handful books to bring back to your room first, mostly fantasy romance titles (because how can you resist the call of your favorite genre?) Felix, who had been watching fondly as you made your selections, quickly instructs a nearby maid to bring your selections back to your room before asking if you’re ready for the tour of the castle to resume.

In much higher spirits than when you began, you happily link your arms with Felix again, eager to see what else the castle has to offer you. There’s not much more for you to see on the inside; you’re briefly shown the knight’s barracks and the maid’s quarters, as well as the informal living space his family prefers to relax together in when they have the time. (It’s still extremely elegant and beautiful for an “informal” space, but you digress- they’re royalty, after all.)

He leads you to the gardens next, which until now you had only seen briefly from the windows, and wow, is it more stunning when actually in front of you than you ever would have believed. All the flowers and hedges are well maintained and vibrant in color, a cobblestone path laid before you and winding around the garden carefully, lattice fence work protecting the flowers in the back and maintaining the border.

There’s ponds littered about, the cleanest and bluest you’d ever seen, the fish inside clearly visible even at a distance. In the center lies a beautiful marble fountain, with large, meticulously detailed sculptures of what you assume to be a goddess to adorn the surroundings. It’s all utterly breathtaking, beyond anything you’d ever seen at home in the south. As you reach the end of the cobblestone path, there lies an iron wrought gazebo with matching seating and a table beneath, right in the center.

Felix unlinks your arms and steps up first, holding his hand out to you to accept as you proceed carefully up the few steps up to the gazebo. He pulls a chair out for you, smiling when you accept the seat and then takes his own seat directly across from you. There’s still a chill in the air, as spring has only just begun to set in the north, but the sunlight that filters through the iron keeps you sufficiently warm.

“Would you like some tea? You must be tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Felix asks after he’s gotten more comfortable in his seat, the iron cold at first but warming up quickly due to his own body heat. “That’d be lovely,” you answer sincerely, and he smiles again, looking around quickly for any nearby attendants he can call to assist the two of you. Within minutes you are provided with fresh tea, as well as a handful of biscuit style cookies, and you thank the maids for their quick work as warmly as you can.

“It’s been so long since I last walked the entirety of the castle grounds, I’d forgotten how tiring it is,” Felix sighs after he takes a sip of his tea, seemingly unphased by the high temperature of it. You on the other hand are snacking on the cookies you’d been provided as you wait for the tea to cool, having no desire to scorch your tongue and potentially embarrass yourself in front of your husband.

“Yes, I can’t imagine doing it daily. The maids certainly have their work cut out for them,” you empathize, truly hoping they feel appreciated for all the work they’ve done for you thus far, and have done for what you imagine to be decades for some of them. You didn’t have much help on your family’s estate back home, but it was much less grand in comparison to the splendor of the castle you now live in.

The moments that follow are serene; you listen to Felix talk about various things pertaining to the castle as you sip your tea, including stories of how he used to get lost as a child and always needed someone's help to get back to where he needed to be. You laughed once, when he told you about a time he got stuck in a utility closet and cried until he was discovered by a maid, who had to spend several minutes calming him down before carrying him back to his room.

It was a cute story, and you couldn’t help but giggle from how he dramatically explained the darkness that encompassed him and how terrified 7 year old Felix was at that moment. You were worried for a moment after that it’d seem like you were laughing at him and not with him, but the way he smiled at you after he heard your laugh told you he was perfectly happy with your reaction.

It was the first time he heard you laugh since you arrived- genuinely laugh, and he liked it. It made him feel warm, and gave him hope that you were finally starting to feel comfortable around him. He’d never hurt you, and he hoped that as you grew closer to him, you could genuinely love him one day. That’s all he wants really; to love the person he’s married to, and be loved in return.

He’s seen it happen before; his parents, whose marriage was decided long before he was born but was the truest form of love he’d ever seen, and with his older sister, who was against her marriage at first but came to be truly in love with the man she was promised to. He wanted that to, to love and be loved with all his heart, to have something special and all his own with the woman he was promised to. And he'd work hard, do everything he could to show you that he was someone worthy to give your heart to.

You stayed in the gardens for some time, simply talking and enjoying the scenery until the sun began to shift behind the trees. The shade brought a deeper chill with it, a slight shiver crawling over your skin each time the wind blew. “Let’s go back inside, there’s still something I want to show you,” Felix suggests upon seeing the way your body tensed from the chill creeping over you. You easily accept the offer, letting him lead you out of the gardens and back to the castle.

Warmth immediately spreads through you when you’re back inside the castle’s walls, body releasing its cold tension as you let Felix guide you to where he wants to go next, your arm linked in his as is coming to be your norm. You come to a now familiar hall- the one with your bedrooms, and Felix stops in front of the doors to his room, the one you will one day share in the future. “Your room..?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively.

“I’m not asking you to move in yet, just to see it, if that’s okay with you,” he explains his intentions, ensuring that he means you no harm by inviting you into the private space. Felix has given you no reason to mistrust him at all, and while there is some slight hesitancy due to your own fears, you agree easier than you expected yourself to. He’s trustworthy, you think; he’s a gentleman through and through, and he’s shown you more than once how considerate and respectful he is, so.. Why not?

The royal knights guarding his room open the doors for you at Felix’s signal, and the two of you step inside together, letting the guards close the door behind you to offer you privacy (not that you necessarily need it at the moment.) His room is similar to yours, with much of the same features, but much larger in scale and with items you imagine are specific to Felix’s own tastes. His furniture holds the same blue and white tones as yours, but with the additions of a lovely yellow, reminiscent of the sun shining in an almost clear sky.

He has a fireplace, only slightly larger than the one in your room, and you can tell even from a distance that his attached bath is very grand in both appearance and size. The biggest difference from your own room however has to be the piano sitting in the corner of his room, large and spectacular in its handcrafted design. You cautiously step closer to it, carefully running your hand over the sleekly painted black wood, fingertips tracing over the gold leaf accents.

“This is beautiful,” you say, turning back to look at him when you’re done admiring the beauty of what you can only assume is his personal piano, “do you play?” “I learned as a boy,” he answers with a beaming smile full of pride as he takes a seat in front of the keys, “I haven’t had much time to play recently, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. I always feel the happiest when I’m playing.”

He motions for you to take a seat on the nearby chaise, so you do, sitting comfortably against the soft cushion. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asks, a bit nervous but eager to show you what he can do after years of diligent practice. “I’d love that,” you reply, his infectious joy causing you to smile as well. You watch as he turns his attention to the keys in front of him, his face changing as he closes his eyes, the smile you had become accustomed to seeing fading as he prepared to focus.

The song starts soft and slow, and while you didn’t recognize the melody, you found it entrancing and indescribably beautiful and serene. You watched and listened in awe as he continued, his eyes still closed and body swaying along with the melody he was playing. His ability to play without looking at the keys or sheet music amazed you, and attested to the fact that this is indeed something he loves to do.

You clapped when he finished the song, and his expression immediately returned to the vibrant smile he often held. “That was beautiful Felix! You’re really talented,” you praise him earnestly, truly moved by his talent. “Oh, no, anyone who has played as long as I have can do that,” he insists despite the light blush crawling on his features from your compliment.

“You’re being modest,” you say, hoping he recognizes that you truly mean it, and aren’t just saying so to be kind or polite. You’ve seen a fair amount of people play the piano in your time attending balls and banquets, but saw no one as talented and clearly passionate as Prince Felix. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being so openly complimented, or the fact that he had never played in front of anyone but his family, but he found that the praise affected him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated.

No, it was because it was you specifically complimenting him that made his face flush and heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Was it strange to hope to hear you compliment him more in the future? Maybe one day you’d compliment his appearance; tell him he was handsome, or beautiful, or cute even. He’d be happy with any of them, as long as they were from you. He'll tell you too- how beautiful you are when you smile, your excitement over your books cute, your very presence endearing. He knows it's too soon to call his feelings love, because how do you fall in love with a stranger in only a few weeks time? But he's certain that one day, maybe not too far off from today, it will be love, and the warmth and joy he feels whenever you look at him will expand tenfold, beyond anything he's ever experienced before now.

Since the first time you’d entered Felix’s room and he’d played the piano for you, it had become routine for you to spend most of your days there with him, listening to him calmly play melodies while you silently read your books. It was nice listening to him play while you were reading; it felt like it added a special ambience, and helped you get even further lost in the tales written on the page.

Sometimes you’d even notice him watching you read from your peripheral, smiling to himself for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the keys. When his fingers grew tired, you’d start to read aloud, oftentimes at his own request. Felix explained that he liked listening to you read, and you imagined that the feeling was similar to how you felt listening to him play piano.

Relaxing, comfortable, serene; that’s how the two of you felt listening to the other. Honestly, you were embarrassed to do so at first; after all, the book you were reading at the time had to do with with a woman in a magical fantasy land falling in love with an elf, and you would’ve been extremely embarrassed if he laughed at the concept or shamed you for your taste in literature.

However, you found that he listened to you intently, like the tale you were reading from the pages was of the utmost importance for him to hear. He’d ask follow up questions when you were further in the book than he last heard, often asking what happened next and if the characters had overcome whatever trial they had been facing yet.

Felix remembered all the details of what you read to him- the setting, the character’s names, what their thoughts and feelings were at the point you’d read them to him. It impressed you, as well made you feel warm and a little fuzzy. It showed how much he genuinely cared, that he listened to you and cared about the things you care about, that he wanted to know what you like beyond a superficial level.

Whenever night came however, you retreated back to your own room, promising you’d return the next day. Maybe it was silly to not officially move into the bedroom you were meant to share when you had begun to spend most of your days there, but you simply weren’t ready to yet. You’d grown to trust Felix quite a bit, but sleeping next to him still seemed a step too far out of your comfort zone.

You also worried it’d send him the wrong message- you didn’t want him to think anything would come of you sharing a bed just yet. You just found his presence comforting, and that was all. You knew, since the very day you first came here, that he hoped the two of you would share his room when you were ready, but you didn’t want to unintentionally give him something he thought was more than it was supposed to be.

It seemed so.. Intimate, much more than you had ever been with someone. You liked him, and you trusted him, that much was true- but enough to share a bed? It was nerve-wracking to think about, and while you knew it would happen someday, there was no need to rush it along; especially not when he was giving you the freedom and space to tackle your marriage on your own terms.

But on nights like tonight, when your heart was heavy and tears pricked the corner of your eyes, you wondered if you should’ve just moved in with Felix already. It was only a matter of time before the warm weather brought rain with it, and alongside the downpour came thunderstorms. You weren’t sure what time of night it was when the crash of thunder woke you from your sleep, but as the grogginess faded and the sound sat with you, your heart ached terribly.

You didn’t hate thunderstorms- in fact, you didn’t mind them at all, usually finding them quite pleasant to watch and listen to. It was your sister that hated them, who’d crawl into your bed every time one struck, trembling hands rousing you from your deep slumber and clinging to you the moment you awoke and offered her a place next to you. And each time a thunderstorm rolled through, you couldn't help but think about her, sadness encroaching over you without any means to stop it.

What was the weather like back home, you wondered? Had spring's rain been gentle to her so far or were the storms as prevalant there as they were here? Would your sister suffer through it alone now that you weren’t there to comfort her? Your parents were kind, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d allow her to crawl into bed with them, or to hold her close as she cried the way you always had.

How much of the remainder of her childhood would you come to miss? In just a few years time, she’ll be a woman the same as you, married into a new family and away from the last of her comforts. You don’t hate where you are now, nor do you hate Felix or the family you now call your own, but you miss the people you grew up with, and your little sister most of all.

You miss holding her hand, hugging her when she’s scared, wiping away her tears when she’s sad or frightened. You miss guiding her through the lessons you once took, helping her to understand and offering the help you didn’t have then due to being the oldest. You miss giggling together when sharing stories, how cute she looked when happily accepting and showcasing your hand-me-down dresses that were now hers.

Before you knew it, tears rolled down your cheeks, the ache in your chest unable to be ignored or pushed aside any longer. It was as if all the sadness you’d been harboring surfaced all at once, and the moment one tear fell, another followed, and another, until you were openly sobbing, unable to control or stop it from happening.

You thought again of Felix, who was just a short trip down the hall from you. Would it be alright to go see him? You promised you’d go to him if you needed something, and well.. You could use some comfort, if you were being honest with yourself. If you lit some candles and tried to read to distract your mind, all you’d effectively do is blur the pages and stain them with your tears, unable to focus on the words in front of you as your mind swirled and processed all your emotions.

Felix, while still relatively new to you and finding his place in your life, is your family now. Who else can you approach with your melancholy if not him? He’s sweet- he’ll comfort you, he’ll listen to you, he’ll be patient and considerate. In the nearly 2 months since you’d first arrived, he’s always shown you just how gentle of a person he is. And he always seemed genuine when expressing his desire to share his life with you, and be someone you could trust and rely on.

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, wiping the tears from your face as you rise from your bed. Your night guards seem surprised when the doors to your room open and you emerge from them, but ultimately they say nothing, letting you walk down the hall without interruption and closing your doors for you.

Felix’s guards, who recognize you even in the dim light of the candles on the walls as his wife, acknowledge you with a brief, professional nod when you stop in front of the doors. You hesitate there for a moment, wondering if this is really okay or if you should abandon this idea and turn back to your room, but his guards, who mistake your hesitance as you waiting for them to open the doors, do so as quietly as they can, motioning for you to go ahead and step inside the room.

Well, there’s no going back now that they’ve opened the doors for you, so you quietly step inside, thanking them softly and letting them pull the large doors shut behind you. The room is dark, the light that would normally pour in from the moon being obscured by the dark rain clouds that hang in the sky. His candles are all responsibly blown out, but your eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to find your way to his bed regardless.

You swallow, hand trembling as you reach out to him, shaking him gently and mirroring the actions your sister used to take when she woke you up at night. He groans sleepily, voice deep and gravely as he stirs awake, eyes slowly drawing open, wearily looking for the source of what woke him. Felix sees you standing above him, but it takes his sleep-addled brain a moment to process the sight, half wondering if his weary eyes are playing a trick on him.

But no, it really is you, looking at him with sad eyes and a quivering bottom lip, and he can feel the tremble in your hand that rests on his shoulder now that he’s fully conscious. He sits up quickly, concern painting his face as he gives you his undivided attention. “Y/N, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” Your voice wavers as you try to tell him, I’m sad, I’m lonely, I miss everyone from home, but it doesn’t fully come out, the words dying in your throat as tears well in your eyes again.

He opens his arms to you and you crumble into them, burying your head in his chest as you allow yourself to cry. He sympathetically whispers your name, careful as he wraps his arms around you in a hug, conscious of where he allows his hands to rest. He doesn’t know what's wrong, what has brought you to such tears, but he’s glad you came to him with them. It would’ve saddened Felix to later learn that you suffered in your room alone when he would’ve gladly done whatever he could for you.

And then he hears it- the crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for a brief moment before you’re sheathed again in darkness. Was that the problem? Were you frightened? You weren’t of course, but he didn’t know that, and he comforted you through your sobbing as if you were. “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here with you,” he told you, his voice a deep whisper, holding you just a bit together whenever lightning struck, fully believing the problem was that you were afraid.

Despite the misconception, you were comforted all the same. This was exactly what you were hoping for, what you needed to hear. The storm eventually recedes, as does your sobbing, the room becoming ever so slightly more illuminated as the rain clouds pass onward. He can see your face more clearly now when you look at him again, can see how wet and shiny your cheeks have become from fallen tears, but you also appear calmer, your lip trembling much less and breaths less shaky.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks softly, carefully, and it is now you become hyper aware of the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of your head resting against his chest, of the sound of his heartbeat in your ears. You relax your fingers, which you realize were clutching his sleep shirt quite hard, the fabric having become harshly wrinkled from your grasp. He loosens his arms to let you lift yourself away from him, watching silently as you wipe your face clean.

You hesitate to meet his gaze- not because you feel embarrassed over your outpouring of your emotions, but conscious of how close you just were, and how natural it felt to have his arms around you. Maybe the fact that it felt so right is a testament of how close you’ve grown in the time you've been here, and how comfortable he makes you feel. “I’m sorry for waking you,” you mutter quietly now that you’ve found your voice again; you know his duties leave him tired, so there’s a tinge of guilt you feel for interrupting his rest.

“Don’t say that, I’m glad you woke me,” he assures you, and he’d reach out and hug you tight again if he knew he could. You believe him- you know how earnest and sincere Felix is, and that he cares about you; maybe not in the way a husband cares about his wife, but cares nonetheless. You should be honest too, clarify why you were really crying so he doesn’t grow to think you’re genuinely afraid of thunderstorms.

“I, uh- I’m not afraid of storms, that’s not why I was crying. Well, it was, but not because I was frightened,” you explain, and Felix looks a bit puzzled, but nods anyways, listening carefully to what you tell him. You tell him everything- how your sister was afraid of them, how you spent many dark nights easing her fears, and how your tears were born from how much you miss her, and your family as a whole.

His heart breaks for you, truly, it does. He assumed you missed your family, he took notice of how close you were to them on the night of your ceremony, but there was no way he could’ve known how deep your pain was. And really, he can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation. What if it was him who had to separate from his parents and siblings to live somewhere new? Would he be able to handle it with as much acceptance and grace as you have?

You never complained about anything, even when you were saddened. You treated everyone around you kindly, never spoke ill of anyone or about your circumstances, and that’s when he realizes you have much more inner strength than he’d known. There’s a small prick of guilt he feels for taking you away from your family, but even if it wasn’t him that you married, it still would’ve happened to you someday.

He wishes he knew what he could say or do to comfort you the best; there was nothing that could completely take the ache away, of that he was sure, but if he could make it better somehow then he’d do whatever he could. You can see the gears turning in his brain, can see him struggle with finding the words to say, unsure if what he’d done for you thus far was good enough.

And there’s a new dilemma brewing in your mind- what do you do now that you’re calm? Do you just.. leave? Go back to your solitude and spend the rest of the night alone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t entirely want to go back to your room. Maybe it was time for you to finally move in with Felix, and share the room, share the bed, as you were meant to. It’s a strange feeling you don’t entirely recognize and know what to do with; you just know that you want to stay here, with him, and feel his arms around you again.

Maybe it’s simply because he’s all you have here; which isn’t entirely true, but it is how you feel. Do you have a family here? Yes, the royal family is your family now too. Do you have friends here? Yes, you’ve grown quite close to your maids and other staff you interact with. But are you comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of them, or to share your feelings of loneliness and homesickness? No, and in that regard, Felix is all you have.

Felix is your companion in this lonely place, the person who makes your days brighter and bearable through the melancholy, the one who ebbs away your sadness and replaces it with warmth. And you spend all your days with him, next to him, talking to him, sharing everything, including silence. Would it be so bad to allow yourself this comfort? To finally take a step forward and move into the room you were meant to share?

There’s a part of you that’s scared to take that step, afraid to confront what your desire to be close to him means, unsure how to unravel and make sense of the complexities of your thoughts. But there is an undeniable truth- Felix is your husband, and that would likely never change. So even if you don’t love him, wasn’t it okay to be close to him regardless? He makes you smile, he makes you laugh with his stories and jokes, he plays the piano for you and listens to you so intently, he makes you feel warm and fuzzy; and he told you he wants you to be here.

Maybe he doesn’t love you yet, but he’s expressed that he wants to, that he hopes the two of you will look at each other fondly and live happily. And maybe you don’t love him yet, but that doesn’t mean that the day you do is far off. You look at him, take in the compassion and concern he holds for you, allow the feeling of warmth to seep into your pores; you may not be in love with him, but you do still have love for him. Isn’t that enough?

“Felix, if it’s alright.. Can I-,” you pause a moment, shy apprehension prickling your skin, but you collect yourself enough to continue, “I want to stay. Here, with you.” You can see even in the low light how his eyes widen, though it’s hard to decipher whether or not his surprise is pleasant, but you hope it is given how he’s expressed his hopes for the future. “A-Are you sure?” he asks, not at all against the idea, just surprised by your admission.

“I don’t want to be alone again, at least not tonight,” you explain, hoping he understands, “And I don’t have to move in completely if you’re not ready for me to, but.. I spend all my days here with you anyways, so.. I want to, if that’s okay.” Felix’s heart is racing, his face growing pinker by the second, and he feels lucky you’re making this confession in the darkness, where you can’t easily tell how obvious his blush is.

“Of course you can stay,” he says, shifting more to the side to allow you the space you need to get comfortable under his thick blanket. He’s stiff when he first lies down next to you, unsure of whether or not it was okay to touch you, whether or not you’d even like it if something as simple as his arm being pressed against yours was alright with you. He already knew he was undeniably attracted to you, but he’d never do something if you were uncomfortable, or touch you without explicit permission, even if the touch was meant to be comforting as opposed to romantic.

But you reach out to him first, softly ask him to hug you again, and he’s more than happy to oblige your request. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart as you move in close, and you wonder if he’s nervous; you are too, to be fair. You’ve never lied this close to a man before, or let one hold you in his arms the way you let Felix, never shared a bed with anyone but family. But you want this, and despite the nerves that come with doing something so new to you, you’re happy, comfortable.

Felix’s heart begins to slow the longer you lie together, as does yours, and the exhaustion that comes with crying, as well as being woken in the middle of the night, takes hold over you. You fall asleep first, though Felix is not far behind you, the soft sound of your even breaths akin to a lullaby in his fatigued state. You’re warm, comfortable, safe; you may not have all the things that were once familiar to you, but you have Felix, a person who radiates kindness and compassion, a person who despite everything, makes you happy.

There’s part of you that wonders if sharing a room with Felix was a decision made too hastily; not because he did anything wrong, but because it came with unforeseen challenges. What was the challenge? Dressing, undressing, bathing to name a few. He was always respectful, kept his back turned to you whilst you were changing or kept himself away from the attached bath if you were in it, and you likewise never peeked towards him when the opposite occurred.

You certainly didn’t regret your decision- after all, you spent all your days with Felix, so it only made sense to spend your nights with him too now that you felt comfortable enough. But there was a certain timidness that came with undressing in the presence of a man, even if said man wasn’t looking and had his gaze fixed to the wall until you were finished. You wondered though, wouldn’t there come a day where he was allowed to look?

The thought of Felix someday looking at your exposed, bare skin made an unfamiliar feeling well in your gut- one that was entirely foreign to you, but not at all unpleasant. Butterflies, perhaps? You’d read about the sensation in your novels, the characters often expressing how seeing the one they love made their stomach react in ways strange and new. And as explained in the countless romances you read, your heart would race when he held your gaze after you emerged from the bath, your face would flush whenever his touch lingered for longer than what you would consider typical of a friendly relationship.

It was no exaggeration to say that sharing a room with Felix brought you even closer than before, and once you got past your initial shyness, the weeks that followed were some of the most pleasant you’d had. You settled into a nice routine, sharing breakfast before he had to depart to attend to his royal duties, while you spent the rest of your morning and early afternoon perusing the library shelves for your next read or sitting out in the gardens, sometimes reading in the warm light of the sun, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery around you.

You’d reunite at dinner time, sometimes sharing that time with family in the dining hall and other times eating in the privacy and comfort of your room. Felix would often insist that you bathe first, ever a gentleman to you, but on days he seemed particularly worn out and exhausted you would do your best to convince him he needed one more than you, encouraged him to relax and let the hot water soothe away any aches.

No matter the order of the bath, your nights would end the same; you’d spend the last few hours of your day listening to Felix play the piano as you read, oftentimes reading your literature aloud once he grew tired and joined you where you sat, whether that be the chaise facing the piano, the sofa across from the fireplace, or simply the bed. On the nights he was extra tired, his eyes would grow heavy and close as you read to him, and when you gently told him he was falling asleep, he’d mumble that he was still listening, urging you to continue.

It was endearing, and there was a certain joy you felt in lulling him to sleep with your softly spoken words, knowing that even as the comfort seeped into his bones and urged him to rest, all he wanted was to listen to you. You liked to think it even helped him, hoping that you brought him as much solace as he brought you, hoping that you alleviated and dispelled any troubles simply by being there for him the way he was for you.

Tonight was another such day; the changing of the season brought with it longer, warmer days, and often the sun wouldn’t begin to sink until you were already well into your nightly routine. The moon had just begun to emerge when Felix settled down on the sofa next to you, making sure he lit the candles before he sat as darkness began to settle in. It was a bit of a challenge at times to read in the dim, wavering light of the candles, but you’d grown used to it in your time as a novel enjoyer, and you welcomed the cozy atmosphere the candlelight brought.

He listened to you intently at first, but the more you spoke the words from the pages, with your steady, soft and even pace, the more sleep called to him, and it became a struggle for his eyes to remain open. His head rested against the back of the sofa, the cushion acting as a pillow for his weary body. Your softly spoken words, along with the low light the candles brought to the room, were enough to call him to sleep much faster than he’d otherwise expect.

You pause when you notice his eyes have completely closed, not sure if he’s still listening with his eyes shut, or is indeed asleep as you suspect. But when he makes no reaction to your pause, you are certain sleep has taken him, and you smile as you quietly close your book. You set it down on the nearby table, wondering if you should try and wake him, request him to move to the bed, or if it’d be better to bring over a blanket and let him be.

You look at him, quietly taking in the sight of his sleeping form. Felix is beautiful, even whilst sleeping, and you wonder if he knows that. His eyelashes are long, his freckles a unique and expansive constellation, his parted lips and honeyed skin almost entracing to look at, begging to be admired by all who look. And admire him you did, in quiet moments like this, where everything was serene, in the space belonging only to the two of you, a space where you are the only ones who exist.

Carefully, you reach out to him, gently tapping on his shoulder until he stirs. “Felix,” you call softly, and he barely opens his eyes, letting out a small, groggy ‘hmm?’ in response. “You fell asleep,” you tell him quietly, voice almost a whisper, “let’s go to bed.” He hums his agreement, which due to his deep, sleepy voice sounds more like a grumble. You rise from the sofa first, offering a hand for stability if he needs it.

He falls to the bed with a grunt, barely managing to pull the blankets up over his shoulders, and you can’t help but giggle at the display. You work your way around the room before you join him, blowing out the candles until the room’s only illumination comes from the moonlight peaking through the window curtains. You’re not quite as tired as Felix, but you settle into bed regardless, knowing that once you’re under the blankets and comfortably next to him, sleep won’t be all that far behind.

Felix has been working extra hard lately, preparing for an upcoming ball to celebrate the summer solstice. Apparently they hold it annually, as well as one for the winter solstice, but you had arrived at winter’s end and after that celebration had already concluded. It keeps the spirits of the commoners high, gives them an event to look forward to, and gives them a chance to mingle with those from other, father towns who come in to join the celebration of the season.

That’s not its only purpose however; it also gives the royal family a chance to meet with other officials and people of high standing beyond that of just letters, and ensure that they continue to have a prosperous, mutually beneficial relationship. Dukes, barons, soldiers who have returned from war-torn fields- it’s important for the king, and by extension Felix, to know where they stand with all of them.

Of course, you were no stranger to lessons in diplomacy, but you’re sure there is much more Felix has to keep in mind than simply being diplomatic. There’s a lot that goes into the politics of the kingdom, and you can’t imagine the weight that falls on his shoulders, knowing that one day he’ll inherit the responsibility of deciding the future of everyone within his territory. It’s also possible that someday, your knowledge from growing up in the south will be a vital asset to him, and that he’ll seek your input on how to govern the farthest reaches of the kingdom.

You sigh a little, moving in closer to Felix. It’s best not to stress yourself out with thoughts about governing the kingdom, or about the upcoming ball; it’ll be your first ball as a married couple in the public eye, and there’s a separate set of nerves that come along with that. You wonder how much like a couple you should act; should you stay glued to his side, act lovey-dovey for the duration of the night, or would that be unseemly for royalty to do?

It’s possible there’s no need for you to appear in love- after all, it’s no secret that arranged marriages can be loveless. But still, you think it’d be beneficial for the people to see you genuinely care for Felix- it could set a positive example, and show that the north and south have no need to fight against each other. You think if you just act natural, and don’t put too much thought and effort into “proving” you love Felix, then the people will see your honest feelings come through. And besides, you told yourself you wouldn't worry about such things now that you were in bed, so your only priority should be going to sleep.

Felix’s arm rests around your waist, which is normal for you now. After the first night, when he hugged you until you fell asleep, it felt nice to wake up with his arm still there, holding you close. He apologized the next morning when you woke up, worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, though he didn’t have control of where his arm lied once he’d fallen deeply into sleep. You assured him though that it was perfectly fine- in fact, it was comfortable, and you enjoyed the closeness after feeling so lonely.

It became a natural part of how you slept, his arm always around you, sometimes loosely, and other times strongly keeping you close. Now was one such time you were held loosely, his arm limp with sleep but you didn’t mind; it gives you the ability to easily adjust your position turning so that his hand was against your back and your head could rest close to his chest. Your movement rouses him slightly, and he instinctively holds you tighter.

You whisper an apology for unintentionally waking him with your movement, not entirely sure that he’s even alert enough to truly hear you, but you say it regardless. You guess he does hear you, because he mumbles a response, though it’s not entirely decipherable. “..ove you.” “Hmm?” you hum in question, glancing up to look at him, but it’s no use- he’s back to sleep within seconds, as if he was never awoken at all. Oh well, it likely wasn’t anything important, probably just dreamy ramblings of a tired mind, or an acceptance of your apology. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him if he dreamt anything pleasant, or if you appeared to him in your dreams the same way he had begun to in yours.

You were well into the solstice ball, sighing as you stood off to the side of all the dancing, feeling exhausted from everything you were experiencing. You thought your wedding was tiring, but this was somehow even worse; when you got married to Felix, only locals to the town were welcome inside the castle to witness it and celebrate, otherwise chaos could ensue. But with the solstice ball, any and everyone was welcome, and with that came a myriad of people for you to meet and communicate with.

Most who attended were eager to see the prince’s wife, curious about what sort of woman he’d married, and you couldn’t help but be anxious about what opinion they’d hold of you after seeing you in the flesh. Honestly, you wanted to make a good impression; you’d be saddened if you were unliked by those who would one day be your people alongside Felix. Your father was someone who governed with compassion, and the royal family were much the same, and you hoped they could see you held the same values.

Still, it was tiring to portray your best self for hours without end, and you took the opportunity for a break at the first moment you could. You stayed at Felix’s side for the first hour of the evening before going your separate ways, him mingling with various men of high status while you traveled the ballroom floor, introducing yourself to as many people as you could. There were still many people for you to meet and talk with, but hopefully they’d understand your need to take a moment for yourself.

You sipped on some water, your throat thankful for the soothing liquid, having become quite parched from all the talking you’d done. You also looked yourself over briefly in one of the ballroom’s mirrors, making sure everything about your appearance was still neatly in place; you had went out to town with Felix to get a new dress, and it arrived mere days before the ball, just in time.

You expressed that you were worried about your appearance, the dresses you’d brought from home being expensive and beautiful, sure, but still falling short when compared to the lavish gowns his sisters and mother wore. Felix, who didn’t entirely realize he was speaking his thoughts aloud, said you’d look beautiful in anything, and both of your faces went red, before he coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject, saying that they could simply buy you a new dress if you’d needed it.

You did also consider borrowing a gown from his older sister, but he insisted that was nonsense when they were more than capable of buying something specifically for you, and so you’d agreed to go out to town with him, going to a seamstress well-respected and trusted by the royal family. It was your first outing since your arrival, not because anything necessarily stopped you from leaving if you wanted to, but simply because it required the coordination and cooperation of the royal guard accompanying you, and really, you had no need to leave until then.

After the seamstress’ daughter took your measurements, and you answered various questions pertaining to color and style, as well as looking over and feeling various samples of fabric, you were free to leave, with the promise that once your dress was ready, her daughter would bring it to the castle, along with an alteration kit if any adjustments were needed. Before returning to the castle, Felix brought you to a jeweler, and you also passed a bookstore, where you couldn’t help but notice your favorite novel was on display.

Felix asked about it when you noticed your subtle pause to look, asked if you wanted to go inside and look around, or buy the copy of your favorite novel that was on display, but you told him there was no need. After all, you still had your very well-loved copy at home (which, while beginning to fall apart, was still perfectly readable and sentimental to you), and countless books in the library you still had interest in before feeling the need to purchase any new ones.

All that to say, your night on the town was well spent, and you were thankful how well your gown and jewelry came together, and you truly felt good about your appearance tonight. Your maids also dutifully perfected your hair and makeup, and even hours into the night, you found no imperfection with either. Felix also went red in the face when he first saw your completed look, much to the delight of your maids, who had to suppress their gleeful giggles; it seemed they loved when Felix looked at you with awe.

You allow an attending maid to take your water from your hands when you are finished with it, thanking them with sincere politeness. You give yourself another moment to collect yourself before returning to the main ballroom floor, careful not to bump into those dancing as you make your way through the crowd of people. You hoped to locate Felix, and see whether or not he’s still caught up in whatever political talk he was having when you last brushed past him.

Instead, you hear a familiar voice questioningly call your name, and you pause, stopping to look around for the source. It couldn’t be.. could it? “Christopher!” you gasp, met with the sight of a boy, now man, you hadn't seen in nearly 3 years, “What are you doing here?” “Didn’t you know? My station is just a few towns over,” he explains with a smile. Honestly, you were completely shocked. Your fathers were close friends, and though Chris was a few years older than you, you’d spent a lot of time together due to the close relationship of your fathers, both personal and professional.

While your father is a duke, Chris’ was a very well-respected knight, who earned the title of baron due to his unwavering loyalty and dedication to serving your father, having sworn his fealty to him many years ago, before you were even born. Chris had similar ambitions as his father, and dedicated himself to training from a young age, always expressing that one day he’d serve the royal family. Coincidentally, he was also your first, and only, childhood crush.

And truly, you didn’t know that he lived in a relatively short proximity to the town you now called home. Upon meeting the requirements to join the royal guard, he was sent north to receive further orders, and you’d lost contact with him not long afterwards, with the only news you’d learned being that he married a year after moving from the town you both grew up in- an arranged marriage, same as you.

His wife, as far as you were aware, was a local girl whose family offered a significant dowry to be married to such a well-respected and honorable family. You wondered more than once if he was happy, and if your father ever considered Chris as a potential husband to you, but in recent times you stopped lingering on such thoughts completely. Your situation was set in stone, and you didn’t bother entertaining thoughts on what-if’s and could-be’s now that you too were married.

“I didn’t! But it’s nice to see you again, I didn’t expect to see a familiar face,” you tell him sincerely; disregarding the childhood feelings you once held for him, it truly is nice to see a friend from home again. “I was surprised when I heard you were the one Prince Felix married, and so I had to take this chance to see you again, and see the truth of it for myself.” You giggle a little, imagine what Chris must’ve looked like when he learned his childhood friend had married someone so important.

“I was surprised too, believe me. I never anticipated marrying into the royal family,” you say, smiling as you speak. Though there were hardships that came with being relocated and away from family, now that you were growing accustomed to your life here, you actually found it pleasant. And you really enjoyed Felix’s presence, and while you were initially upset about your marriage, you had truly begun to view it as a good thing in the recent weeks.

“Did your wife come too? It’d be lovely to meet her,” you ask as a follow up, hoping she was somewhere nearby. “Mm, she’s here somewhere,” he replies, much more dismissive about the topic than you’d expect him to be. It makes you want to ask if his relationship with her is bad, but perhaps that’s not appropriate to ask given the circumstances. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, quickly shifting focus, and you hesitate, a slight frown forming on your face.

Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a dance with a friend, but the circumstances surrounding your lives have changed substantially since you were last in contact. You’re both married, and even if it meant nothing beyond friendship for either of you, there was an image that needed to be upheld at all times, especially in the eyes of the public. And you couldn’t help but think about what his wife, or Felix, would think if they saw you dancing with each other.

Felix knew Chris by name alone from times you talked about home, but there was no way for him to know what he looked like. And in turn, you don’t know if Chris’ wife knows who you even are, if you’d be crossing a boundary in your respective relationships without even knowing it. Further still, the thought of Felix seeing you in the arms of another and being upset, or even jealous, is enough to deter you from making that decision.

You’re trying to form something real with Felix despite the circumstances that brought you together, and you won’t do anything to hinder that. You want him to know that you respect your marriage, and that you won’t put his feelings in jeopardy by entertaining the advances of other men. Not that you think Chris means anything by his request, but still- better to be safe about these things than sorry.

It’s strange though; you already knew you like Felix quite a lot, and care about his feelings, but there’s something beyond that, that makes you want to abide by the sanctity of your marriage. Technically speaking, you only have to be a devoted wife in public. It’s no secret that those in arranged marriages have concubines and secret affairs. If you truly wanted to, you could do the same, but you have no wish to do so.

Is it loyalty? Love? All you really understand is that you never want to do anything to break Felix’s heart. You also don’t know if he even has enough romantic interest in you to be jealous in the first place, but either way, that’s not an emotion you want to cause him to feel. Some may be happy to see their betrothed jealous, but you’re not that kind of woman; instead, you’d feel rather guilty and apologetic.

You glance across the crowd, spotting Felix still mingling with his father and other men of high status, completely unaware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, you can return to his side soon, once you're done catching up with Chris. “I’m afraid I can’t,” you finally say, hoping he understands your need to politely turn him down. “What a shame,” he sighs a bit, his hand reaching out to you and settling on your arm, near your shoulder, “You look beautiful tonight. I would’ve loved to share a dance with you, as adults.”

“O-Oh, thank you,” you mutter, taken aback by the words that left him. The Chris you knew was never so forward, nor did he ever openly compliment you. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely sure how to respond; this was a situation your younger self would have dreamed of, but now you just feel.. odd. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I never imagined this where life would take us, but.. If it’s your public image that worries you, maybe I could seek you out later, and we could have some alone time?” he continues seamlessly, as if this is a sentence he’s practiced in his head over and over again.

Again, this is something your younger self would’ve been ecstatic about, even prayed for, but now you just feel.. uncomfortable. You don’t feel flattered by his compliment, nor do you like the implication of his statement, and you recoil away from the hand that lingers uncomfortably on your arm. “We can't do that,” you say firmly, doing your utmost to make it clear you have no desire to partake in a scandalous relationship with him. You liked him once, but you were a kid then, and what you feel now for Felix is much more grounded in reality than the puppy love you had for Chris.

“Why not?” he asks, looking at you with eyes that would’ve once made you melt. And there is genuine hurt there, which you do feel sorry about, but you simply don’t return the sentiment he seems to have. “We're both married. Shouldn't you be loyal to your wife?” you counter; even if your marriage to Felix isn’t born of “real” love, you have no interest in infidelity, nor do you want to be the reason Chris is unfaithful in his marriage.

“I don't love her, I never have. And though I moved of my own volition, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I stayed behind, and expressed my desires to make you mine. But what of you? Do you love your husband?” His words, his question, make you swallow, unsure how best to respond. You liked him once, that much is true, but you like Felix more. What you have with him.. You value it, deeply.

It’s easy for a 14 year old to say they’re in love with their crush when they’ve never experienced what real, adult love feels like. There are times, even now, when you’re unsure of what the beating of your heart truly means, but there is one thing that you know for certain- you love Felix, much, much more sincerely than you ever loved Christopher. The difference between loving him, and being in love with him, make little difference in this case.

Though, the more you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve come to think that maybe you are really, actually in love with him. You wouldn’t desire him if you didn’t, wouldn’t be up at night wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, or what kind of father he’d be to the children you’d one day have. You wouldn’t feel a void in your chest at the thought of no longer being by his side, even deeper than the one you’d felt upon moving away from home.

And if there is anything your time reading romance novels has taught you, it’s that love is more than temporary butterflies and racing of the heart. Love is more than excitement, than desire, than the heat of his touch on your body; Love, real love, is the comfort you feel in his presence. The safety, the hours spent together talking or relaxing, even in the comfortable silence you share during a meal- that is love.

When you can’t imagine your life without him in it, when even the mundane sounds fun as long as it’s with him, when you still feel warm and fuzzy in his presence even after the butterflies have passed, that is love. Now that you’ve come to know what life is like when Felix is next to you, holding you, sleeping with you, sharing his voice and his talents with you, you never want to know what the absence of him would feel like. All of that is to say, you think you’ve had your answer all along; You don’t just love Felix. You’re in love with Felix.

“If I must tell you.. I do. I love Felix, truly. He’s a wonderful man,” you answer honestly, and Chris holds a deep frown. It must feel unfair- that’s how you felt about your circumstances at first. There’s no way for you to know how long he had feelings for you, but you were able to move on, while he clearly hadn’t. And truthfully, you feel sorry for him; none of this is his fault, but still.. You can’t change how you feel.

“Surely you don’t mean that,” Chris says, a bit desperate, and again, your heart twists. You do mean it, unfortunately for him. And you have no intention of letting him think he has a chance to change your mind, when quite frankly, he doesn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Felix would glance your way whenever he was able to, always wanting to make sure you were handling yourself well.

It was your first solstice ball after all, and he imagined it could be overwhelming and tiring for you to mingle with so many people you had never met before. He just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t getting burnt out from the countless interactions with others. And that’s when he sees it- a man he doesn’t know, his hand lingering on your arm, and you, looking up at him with a troubled expression on your face.

The look of discomfort you hold as the man continues to speak, hand still on you despite how you recoil.. He can’t help but clench his fists, a foreign sort of distaste bubbling within his veins. He can see your expression change as you speak- still uncomfortable, but not quite distressed. Sad, maybe? Perhaps this guy was being forward with you, and you were trying your best to look sympathetic as you gently turn him down.

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I must attend to,” Felix says politely as he bows towards his father and his peers, not lingering to answer questions, though he really should if he doesn’t want to appear rude. He approaches you with haste, though still careful to not appear in too much of a hurry or frantic- he doesn’t want those around him to suspect something is amiss. The man’s hand is thankfully no longer on you, he realizes as he comes closer- it’d be terribly unbecoming of someone of his status to cause a scene.

“There you are, my love! I was looking everywhere for you,” Felix says with a smile as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms as if the other man doesn’t exist at all. Your face reddens, heart picking up; my love, he called you my love! You’re aware this is likely only happening because he spotted you and was able to perceive how you felt, but still, your heart reacts to the words nonetheless.

“Who’s this?” Felix asks as he turns his attention to the man in front of you, his hand resting on your waist in a motion that you’d easily be able to interpret as defensive, possessive. “O-Oh, uhm- this is Christopher. Do you remember what I told you, about how we grew up together due to our fathers being good friends? We ran into each other, and were just catching up,” you explain, and Chris, not wanting to make a fool of himself, easily goes along with your words.

“Oh, how lovely. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of yours,” Felix smiles jovially, extending a hand out to Chris. He accepts it, and the two politely shake hands, with Chris feeling a degree of shame and embarrassment. This definitely isn’t his finest hour; but maybe now that you’ve firmly rejected him, he can try to find happiness in his own life, love in his own marriage.

“My deepest apologies for interrupting your reunion, but I thought it was time my wife and I shared a dance,” he says to Chris before looking back at you with a smile, and it’s so utterly charming that you practically feel your legs turn to jelly, “Shall we, my love?” God, your face must look so red right now. But after the few seconds it takes to finish processing, you gladly accept, offering a timid smile.

Felix bows politely to Chris before he leads you away by the waist, your heart still racing as you follow his lead. Away from the crowd of people, he stops and turns to you, the natural charisma he held melting away the moment your eyes meet. “Are you alright? I’m- I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, I just..” You smile softly, and shake your head; I liked it, I want to hear you call me ‘my love’ again, I want you to keep wrapping your arms around me and holding me by the waist you want to say, but don't. Instead you carefully lean up, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Felix.”

His face grows red, his hand reaching up to his face, fingertips lingering over the spot you kissed him. He smiles cutely, shy and sweet, heart pounding even from something so small. He’s infatuated with you, after all, and any affection from you is enough to make his body react. “Why don't we really go have that dance?” you ask with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You shared a dance when you first married of course, as is customary, but this one would be different; as opposed to a dance between newlyweds with no love between them, now you could say you were dancing with the only man you’d ever sincerely loved.

“Of course, my love,” he replies as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the center of the ballroom floor, both of you bashfully smiling and giddy with affection for the other. You do your best to ignore the stares of others around you, most of them just eager to see the display of love from the newest royal couple in front of them, and keep your focus entirely on Felix. You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on his lips before he shifts his attention back to your eyes, his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink contrasted against his freckles.

You really want him to kiss you, if you’re being honest, but you don’t think it’d be entirely wise to share your first kiss with the eyes of the entire ballroom on you. Maybe, if either of you can conjure your bravery later on, you can kiss in the privacy of your shared room, free to indulge in the feeling of each other for as long as you wish too. Though, perhaps you should stop thinking such thoughts for the moment, lest Felix realizes you’re blushing way too hard. For now, you'll just enjoy the moment you're sharing with him, knowing now, with all your heart, that your love for him is true.

The remainder of your night continued without incident, sharing a few more dances with Felix before you separated again to continue mingling. You saw Christopher again briefly, where he apologized for his behavior and then brought you over to meet his wife. She really seemed like a sweet girl, and you hoped that Chris would be more open to the idea of loving her now that there were no “what-ifs” keeping him held back. She also seemed quite genuinely infatuated with him, which you couldn’t blame her for- Chris was strikingly handsome, and you might have still held similar feelings for him if it wasn’t for Felix.

When the ball came to a close, you were eager to get back to your room and get your aching feet out of the heels you’d worn to match your gown, as well as get the heavy, dangly earrings off your ears. You insist that Felix bathe first, as it will take you quite some time to remove all your accessories, get your hair down from the way it was styled, and out of your intricate gown (not as intricate as your wedding gown, of course, but still enough that you wouldn’t be able to remove it swiftly.)

He didn’t take all that long in the bath, spending just enough time to wash up and effectively dry off, entering your room after he’s changed into his sleep clothes. He respectfully keeps his eyes away from you until he’s sat comfortably away from where you are at the vanity, your dress off and left only in your undergarments. You were brushing out your hair, making sure it was completely tamed and smoothed down to make washing easier before you enter the bath.

You take a quick glance at Felix before you enter the attached bath, his back turned to you as he nervously fiddles with his thumbs. You soak in the tub for some time, letting the hot water soothe you until it turns cooler, now comfortably warm as you take time washing your hair and body. Normally you wouldn’t take such a long time in the bath, but it was just so relaxing after the long day you’ve had, and you indulged in the comfort it offered you before you got out to dry off and slip on fresh clothes.

You half expected for Felix to be in bed already, but when you step out you see that he was waiting up for you, sitting atop the blankets of your bed, back against the headboard. “Sorry I took so long, you didn’t have to wait for me,” you say as you step to your designated side of the bed, mirroring his position against the headboard. “Well, I didn’t want to go straight to bed without having some down time with you,” he explains a bit timidly, and you smile, finding him endlessly sweet.

The light in the room is low, the only candles lit now being the ones closest to your bed. He sits up straighter, turning to you with a nervous disposition, and you watch him curiously, wondering what’s on his mind to make him look at you in such a way. “Listen, before we go to bed, I, uh- I actually have something for you,” Felix says, meeting your gaze timidly.

“Really? What is it?” you ask, having not expected to receive anything so suddenly. Well, sudden to you, but Felix had actually been planning this for quite some time. He steadies his nerves and turns to his nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it until he finds what he needs- a book. You recognize it instantly when it’s in front of you; it’s a new, almost pristine copy of the book you told him was your favorite, the one you insisted you didn’t need when you stopped to look at it the day you were out together.

“When did you get this?” you ask in surprise, carefully taking it in your hands and ghosting your fingers over the cover. “The same night you saw it, I asked a guard to discreetly purchase it for you,” he explains with a soft, sheepish smile, hoping you’re pleased. “There’s something else,” he says, and you glance up at him in even further surprise. Gently, he takes the book from your hands, opening it to a specific page.

“I.. before giving it to you, I wanted to read it, understand for myself why it's your favorite. So.. I did, and there’s a part that really resonates with me, and.. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it to you,” he explains, and your heart stirs, thumping wildly in your chest. How is he so considerate and perfect? You almost can’t believe it, and you don't even know how he found the time to read it without you knowing, but you can ask him about it later. For now, you're much more interested in the fact that he not only read your favorite novel, but wants to share a part he loved with you, a part that spoke to him, and wants you to listen to him read it in his beautiful, deep voice.

He swallows, takes a breath, hands trembling a bit as he holds the book open and looks down at the page in front of him. You watch him with full attention, somehow feeling just as nervous; you don’t know what he intends to read, and as you yourself have read this story countless times, it’s hard to imagine which specific part he’d like the most- there were just so many possibilities and moments you loved to try and guess. But then he starts, and immediately, you feel your heart positively melt.

"Taeryn stares at her, his fingertips ghosting her skin, his eyes transfixed in her stare, her gaze swallowing him whole. And he knows, as his fingers brush her hair softly out of her face, as her cheeks burn and breath hitches with his gentle touch, that he loves her.

He loves her as naturally as he breathes air; to love her is effortless, as easy as it is to simply be. He loves her for as many reasons as there are stars in the sky- countless, never ending. She engulfs him, enraptures him, a moth unable to resist her bright, beckoning flame.

And he knows, from the way every synapse in his brain fires when their lips meet, how his blood burns in his veins simply from her touch, that there is no greater feeling beyond this. To be lost in her is God's greatest gift, and he will thank Him for the rest of his days, because what else could compare to the pure bliss of loving with all that you are, and being loved in return?”

The words that you already found so beautiful sound even more so coming from him, and you can’t help but suck in a breath as you listen to him speak the words written on the page, as if he’s mirroring the character, feeling the very same emotion. He closes the book slowly, and your heart races when his eyes meet yours again. What should you say? It was beautiful? Thank you? That doesn’t feel like nearly enough to describe how you feel or how much you appreciate this gesture.

Felix carefully sets the book to the side, his palms beginning to clam up as he looks at you. He planned this for a specific reason, but now that he’s met with the most critical moment of all, his mouth feels dry, and his chest tightens as his heart accelerates. He wants to tell you he loves you, and maybe he’s been reading the signs all wrong, but he thinks you love him too, he hopes you do.

Maybe your affection for him doesn’t go past platonic, which he would learn to accept with time, but it would truly break his heart if you didn’t feel the same. So he hopes, he prays, with all his heart, that when he tells you how he feels, you’ll reciprocate. You can tell what he wants to say, even with your lack of romantic experience, it’s obvious; no one commits to a gesture so thoughtful and romantic without the intent to become something greater. Given your time reading romance, that’s something you feel confident enough to say- Felix loves you. And you love him too.

So you meet him halfway, inching ever so slightly closer to him, looking him in the eyes as you do. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and then back again, his breath beginning to go uneven. Felix looks at you, eyes full of love, awe, and wonder, and not wasting another breath, he kisses you, his hands reaching to your face, holding it in his hands. It’s chaste and careful, your eyes remaining closed for several seconds after he’s pulled away, your body buzzing with elation.

“I- I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you looked so beautiful today and I-” he swallows, nervous to continue, but pushing through it the best he could, “I wanted to tell you, wanted to kiss you, and I.. love you.” It feels as if a million butterflies are in your stomach, light and erratic in their movement, their excitement unable to be contained. “I love you too,” you admit, breathy and soft, inching a bit closer, and he does the same, until your bodies are only centimeters apart. “Is it okay to.. I want to kiss you again,” he asks, desperately awaiting your approval. You grant him it easily, and his lips are on you again within seconds.

One of his hands remains on your face, cupping it gently, while the other moves to your waist, arm wrapping around carefully, keeping you close. The foreign feelings you’d never experienced that were in all the literature you read- you feel them now, intense and overwhelming, your senses knowing nothing other than Felix. What is it that novels usually compare it to? Sparks flying? This was beyond simple sparks- it was like fireworks, bright, beautiful, bursting in your blood and filling you with warmth.

The kisses you share are slow, measured and careful, and you never separate for long, your lips always finding each other again within seconds. Felix is breathless when he finally pulls away for longer than a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking straight into yours, countless emotions swimming in them. “I want.. can I be honest?” he asks and you swallow, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that you hope doesn't sound too nervous.

“I.. want you, really, really badly but.. truth be told, I'm nervous,” he expresses sincerely, his cheeks growing a deep shade of pink, traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears. Your face, already flushed from kissing, grows impossibly hotter from his admission. He wants you.. Like wants you, wants you? You want him too, having spent multiple sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to have each other, body and soul.

“It's alright, I am too,” you tell him honestly. “Are you?” he can't help but ask; not because he doubts you, but rather wanting the affirmation that he isn't the only one with a heart racing out of control. You nod, seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I am. But I want you too.” God, he almost feels light headed; he can't believe the moment he's secretly dreamed of countless times is actually happening. His face is hot, his blood burns, his heart thumps loudly in his chest, and you want him, you want him, you want him. He takes a breath, does his best to steel his nerves before he speaks again, “We'll go slow, so please tell me if it becomes too much.”

You nod, giving his hand a squeeze, meant to convey that you understand and will do as he requested if you begin to feel overwhelmed. “I love you,” Felix whispers against your lips before he captures them in another kiss, needier this time, more urgent and impassioned. You can't help but let out a noise of surprise at first, but you easily melt into the kiss, eyes closing as you meet his passion with fervor of your own.

His kisses are slow, just as before, but they feel more purposeful, sensual, and when you feel his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in, you easily oblige the request, opening your mouth for him and allowing his tongue to run across yours. Your stomach flips, the feeling of his tongue curiously exploring and rubbing around yours making you dizzy; you never knew kissing could feel this good.

It's so intimate to share your breath with someone, and you feel your body react in ways entirely new, but pleasant. You spend several minutes just like this; kissing over and over, letting his tongue draw circles around yours, only pulling away when one of you desperately needs a breath.

“Can I touch you?” Felix asks once he's pulled away again, and the question, along with the deep, breathy baritone of his voice, makes a shiver run down your spine as butterflies once again flutter in your stomach. “Yes,” you breathe, perhaps sounding a bit more eager than you would've wished, but really, you shouldn't feel embarrassed when he wants you just as bad as you want him.

Again, his lips are on you, but this time he allows his hands to carefully roam your body, gentle and slow in their exploration. Even though he's simply touching you over your clothes, you react to his touch as if bare, whimpering into his mouth when he palms your breasts with both hands and gently squeezes.

It's easy for his thumbs to find your hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and again you let a soft sound of pleasure pass your lips. Felix pulls away to look at you, flushed, breathless, and so, so pretty; he's never felt more blessed in his entire life than he does right now. He watches you bite your lip when his thumbs pass over your nipples again, doing your best to suppress what you perceive to be an embarrassing noise.

“Is it alright if I take this off you?” he asks, stilling the movement of his hands as he waits for your answer. “O-Only if you take your clothes off too,” you answer shyly, and he smiles timidly, finding your request more than fair. “Of course, my love. Whatever you want.” Felix stands from the bed, slowly pulling his sleep shirt up and over his head, likely feeling that you'll be more comfortable if he's the one who's exposed first. And God, you can't believe the physique he'd been hiding underneath all this time; his lean body much more toned than you could've even imagined.

He feels shy under your attentive gaze, but he continues nonetheless, taking the waistband of his pants into his fingers and pulling them down his legs. His erection, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help but stare at the obvious tent it creates in his underwear. You've never seen one before, and you're infinitely curious what his looks like, but there's no need to rush to find out; you have all night together.

Swallowing down the shyness your stare makes him feel, he returns to the bed, sitting directly in front of you. You start to lift up your gown, but he stops you, replacing your hands with his own- after all, he asked if he could be the one to take it off you. You allow him to lift it up to your shoulders before you help him take it all the way off, paying no mind to where on the floor it lands once it has been tossed aside.

The shy part of you makes you want to cover your breasts and avoid his gaze, but the other part can't help but indulge in the mesmerized twinkle held in Felix’s eyes. “So beautiful,” you hear him say under his breath, his hands now making contact with your skin without a barrier. You look down, taking in the sight of his hands holding and squeezing your breasts.

Your body shudders when his thumbs once again rub over you nipples, and he loves watching the way your face changes, how your brows furrow and you bite your lip, the way you gasp when he takes your nipples between his fingers, how your eyes close and head falls back when he carefully rubs and pinches them.

He kisses you when you lift your head again, but he doesn't linger there for nearly as long as before; instead, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck. The kisses make you shiver, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access to your heated skin. He carefully guides you back as he kisses all over your skin, so that you fall back against the bed, head not quite making it to the pillows, but you don’t particularly care.

He takes his time, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, his slow descent to your collarbone and the top of your chest nearly driving you crazy with want. Your breath hitches when he kisses one of your nipples before letting his tongue come out to lick it, lips closing gently around it.

He gives your other nipple equal attention once he's satisfied with his stimulation of the first one he devoted his attention to, and then slowly trails kisses down your body, below your ribs and over your stomach. You feel almost delirious with anticipation, and you half wonder if he's only going slow to drive you crazy (he isn't, of course, but you're becoming much too needy to recognize that.)

Felix caresses your legs, placing kisses over your thighs, as well as just over your panties. There's an obvious wet spot, which you can't help but feel embarrassed by once you've seen that he's noticed. You can't help it- this is easily the most aroused you've been in your entire life. “Want me to take them off?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, covering your face in embarrassment when he chuckles at you.

“You're so cute when you're shy,” he says, and you let out a whine; why does he have to say it with such a sinfully attractive voice? Your reactions boost his confidence, helping to alleviate some of the nerves he'd felt when you first began. And you really are so, so cute right now; it simultaneously further endears him to you and makes his cock throb.

“I'm going to take them off now,” he warns since you aren't looking at him, and he wants you to be completely aware of what actions he takes. You peek through your fingers, nervously anticipating what his reaction to your exposed sex will be. He slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, and you take a deep breath before you part your legs for him to see you fully.

Fuck, you're perfect. There is nothing in the world that could've prepared him for the sight of your glistening heat. He swallows and licks his lips, looking back at you before taking any further action. “Do you need to stop?” he asks, not wanting to push you too far if you aren't ready for this. Truthfully, you are overwhelmed- but in the best way possible, and you definitely don't want to stop here.

“No, want more,” you admit, trying your best not to stutter or mumble so he hears you clearly. “Tell me if you change your mind?” he says, more like a question than a statement, and you nod, assuring him you will if you feel the need to. He lowers himself so his head is between your legs, and the sight of him there alone is positively dizzying.

You hear him comment under his breath about how wet you are as his fingers rub through your folds, which does no favors for your racing heart. He then carefully spreads you apart with two fingers, and again, you see him swallow and lick his lips. Fuck, he has to taste you, needs to find out if you're just as sweet as he imagines you to be.

Everything is so new to both of you, and Felix doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but instinct drives him forward. You gasp and shudder when his tongue makes contact with your dripping heat, slowly but greedily licking up all you offer him. When his tongue finds your clit (a pleasant accident on Felix’s part given his unfamiliarity with the female body), the pleasured noise that involuntarily escapes you tells him he should focus his attention there.

“Feels good?” he asks before he licks again; he’s sure he knows the answer, but he still wants to hear you say it anyways. You nod quickly, another embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips when his tongue swirls around your most sensitive spot. You’ve pleasured yourself before, in private moments with your own fingers, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to how Felix’s tongue feels.

His lips wrap around your clit, as if kissing it, his tongue alternating between long, flat licks, quick flicks, and swirling around it, and you’re positively seeing stars, eyes rolling back as your head falls back against the mattress. You cover your mouth with your hand, your other hand desperately clutching at the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and thighs unconsciously closing around Felix’s head.

You feel it, the familiar heat pooling deep in your stomach, your muffled moans quickly turning to desperate whines and whimpers as he drives you closer and closer to sweet release. You can tell however, that your orgasm will be much more intense than any you had ever given yourself, and it scares and excites you in equal measure. But fuck, even muffled, your noises sound so unbelievably sweet in his hears, and he wants to hear them louder, clearer.

“Take your hand away, my love, I want to hear you,” he separates from your heat long enough to tell you, and you whine, this time in embarrassment, as you lift your head up to look at him. A mistake, in hindsight- the sight you’re met with being more erotic than your heart can handle. His mouth and chin glisten with your juices, the sweat lingering on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead in a way that makes your heart want to give out- he’s just so.. alluring.

“But, the guards,” you try, and he shakes his head, not at all deterred by the fact that they stand outside your bedroom doors. “Don’t care,” he says simply, and you can tell he’s completely serious. There aren’t many things Felix is selfish about in his life, but this, you- he’ll be as selfish as he pleases. “They’re just for me, right? So I don’t care if they hear them, because you’re mine, and they know that too. So please, let me hear you.”

Oh, wow. How can you deny him after hearing that? With a shy nod, you agree to not cover your mouth anymore, and he smiles, pleased with your response, and quickly gets back to work between your legs. It’s insane how quickly your release builds back up, as if there was never a pause to begin with, and a curse leaves you between your loud, whiny moans and whimpers. Felix has never heard you curse before, but he has to admit he likes how it sounds coming from you, and knowing he has caused you to become debauched enough to do so without being conscious of it.

Before you know it, you’re seeing white, releasing all over his face as your body jolts and trembles, back arching from the bed as he continues to stimulate you through it. You eventually whine and push his head away from you, becoming overstimulated from all the attention his tongue continued to give you after your orgasm. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he moves up your body, connecting his lips with yours again, and the taste of yourself lingering on him and his tongue makes your head spin.

Your hands reach for his underwear, trying to pull down the fabric and spring his cock free; it’s a much more forward and desperate act than you ever imagined yourself doing, but you’re so hungry for him that you can no longer think about being demure. You just want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in all your years on this earth. Felix takes the hint, not that it’s even subtle enough to be a ‘hint,’ and makes quick work of taking off his underwear.

The sight of his cock leaves you speechless, breathless; do they all look so simultaneously hot and pretty, or is it just because it belongs to Felix? “Can I..?” you ask, not entirely sure what you’re asking to do- you just know you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. God, yes, please, Felix thinks, but he just nods with a slightly shy smile, shifting his weight off you and laying on his side next to you.

You lay on your side as well, pressing a kiss to his lips as your hand reaches for his cock, fingers curiously running along his length, feeling every vein and ridge. Felix releases a shuddery breath against your mouth, your fingers feeling so different from his own, small and soft, but so, so good. Your touch is intoxicating, and his body jolts when you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum all over it.

A soft groan escapes him when you enclose your fingers around his length, fingers not quite able to wrap completely around and meet your thumb, but it’s more than enough to have Felix feeling good when you start slowly moving your fist up to the tip and then back down. Eventually, as your fingers spread more and more of his pre-cum, his length becomes slick, and it becomes easier for you to pick up your pace, swallowing all the low groans he emits with your mouth.

But you can’t help but think- it felt so good when Felix used his tongue on you, so wouldn’t the same be true for him? Isn’t it worth trying? He opens his eyes when you take your hand away, watching curiously and with bated breath as you gently push him back by the shoulder, having him lay flat on his back as you move to lie comfortably against his legs, his cock a mere inches away from your face.

He lifts himself up to watch you, supporting his weight with his forearms, breath quickening as you take him in your hand again, sticking your tongue out to curiously lick the tip. The taste of his pre-cum is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and while you don’t think there is anything you could compare it to, it’s not unpleasant. You look up at Felix through your lashes, and God, the sight of you, so pretty and perfect, with his cock in your hand and tongue licking away at him, is enough to drive him crazy.

Would he fit inside your mouth? How good would it make him feel? Driven by curiosity and desire, you open your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock as you start to sink your head down on him, and the shaky, breathy groan he lets out in response makes your heart skip a beat and core throb. You keep your eyes on him, watching as his head falls back, his adam’s apple bob up and down, the way his stomach contracts the more you pleasure him.

The sounds that escape him encourage you to keep trying your best to take more of him in your mouth, retreating just a bit when you’ve taken enough of him to cause yourself to gag. Felix has to make a conscious effort to not buck his hips up and drive himself further down your throat, lest he hurt you or make you gag again, but fuck, it feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He knows for a fact he’s going to cum if he lets you keep going much longer, and so, with a shaky breath, he asks you to stop.

You pull off of him the moment he asks, looking at him curiously; you knew he was feeling good, so why did he want you to stop? He sits up completely, capturing your lips in a kiss lest you worry about how well you did for him; you were perfect, you’ll always be perfect, and even if he’s at times too shy to convey that with words, he’ll make sure you know with his actions. “I want to be inside you,” he tells you, lips still close enough to yours to easily kiss you again, to feel your breath against your skin, “do you want that too? Do you want me?”

God, yes, you want him so fucking bad. Are you nervous? Of course you are, you’ve never been so intimate with someone before, but there’s no one in this world you would rather give yourself to than Felix. You want to be connected to him, physically, mentally, in all ways conceivable. He’s the one for you, the love of your life, the most perfect man you’d ever known, so there’s not a single doubt in your mind, or your heart, that he’s the one you want to do this with, and that you want to do it now.

“Yes,” you kiss him, “I want you,” another kiss, “so bad,” and another. He’s elated to hear you say it, his relief and joy going beyond words. He would’ve waited for you, of course he would’ve, but he can’t deny how much he craves being inside you, making love to you, pouring all his love and affection into you. He loves you so, so much, and it’s reflected even in his most carnal of desires. It’s more than sex, it’s more than simply wanting to feel good; to be with you intimately is the greatest display of love you could ever share.

He lies you down carefully, making sure your head actually makes it to the pillows this time, and he situates himself between your legs, hands rubbing over your hips and thighs as he leaves another lingering kiss to your reddened lips. His hand comes between your legs, and he finds your hole with his fingers, wanting to make sure he knew where to aim his cock. You’re still so wet and warm, and the fact that he’s this close to being inside you feels like a blissful dream.

Taking his cock in his hand and lining it up, he looks at you, wanting to make sure one last time that you want him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he asks and you nod, completely, 100% positive you want him inside you. “Yes, I'm ready, please put it in,” you practically beg, and that’s all Felix needs to hear to continue. He starts to push in slowly, watching your face carefully for any discomfort or pain, stopping when he hears you let out a small hiss.

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Felix asks, using all of his self control to make sure he takes good care of you, and makes your first times as comfortable as possible. “I-I’m okay, just keep going slow,” you tell him and he nods, seeking out one of your hands and intertwining your fingers. “Squeeze if you need to, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love, tell me to stop and I will.” You smile, already knowing he’d do his utmost best to make you feel safe, loved, and comfortable.

It stings a bit, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt- and Felix’s soothing words, touch, and kisses do wonders in lessening the discomfort you initially felt. Felix clenches his teeth once he’s fully sheathed inside your heat, your warm, wet walls tightly enveloping him making him almost overwhelmed from how good it feels. He thought your mouth was amazing, but this- God, it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

You can see how much effort he’s pouring into staying still until you're ready for him to move- clenched jaw, furrowed brows, sweat dripping from his brow from concentration. Contrary to what he expected, he’s the one squeezing your hand, trying desperately to ground himself and not lose control of his body, to succumb to his senses. He’s breathing heavily, forehead once again pressing against yours, but you don’t mind in the slightest.

You love how close he is, how full of him you feel, how the sting and discomfort slowly dissolves away, leaving nothing but the desire to feel him move inside you. “You can move, I’m ready,” you whisper, and carefully, slowly, he pulls out to the tip before pressing back in one gentle, fluid motion. “It’s okay? Doesn’t hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, timidly smiling at him. “Feels good, keep going,” you tell him, and he easily obliges, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling of you.

He can’t help but groan, even with the slow pace he’s setting he just feels so good, and the way you look up at him doesn’t do him any favors. Your pretty eyes, your flushed face, the way your hair has messily fallen around you, the way you clench with every sound that tumbles from his lips, letting him know how much you like hearing him- everything, literally everything about you, about this moment, is a blessing to him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to push in deeper, and his eyes roll back, head falling forward into your shoulder as another groan leaves him. He gradually starts to pick up his pace, always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying it before he goes faster, experimenting with angles to find what feels best for you, because everything is already good for him.

He knows he’s found the right angle when you let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan when he thrusts again, and again, your hand tightly squeezing his, though he knows it’s purely because of the pleasure, and not at all because he’s hurting you or you need him to stop. You curse under your breath again, your nails starting to dig into the flesh under his knuckles, your other hand clutching once again at the sheets beneath you.

“Feels good? Tell me, tell me it feels good,” Felix practically begs in your ear, his deep voice growing higher in pitch as he drives himself closer to release, his groans turning into desperate sounding whines. “So good, fuck, love you so much, feels so good,” you babble, and Felix whines louder, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you. He intended for this moment to be sweet and sensual until the end, but he really didn’t anticipate how your walls around his cock would drain him of his composure.

You don’t seem to mind in the slightest however- in fact, you seem to be enjoying the moment just as much as him, your legs starting to tremble as your second orgasm looms closer and your moans and whines grow in volume. He crashes his lips into yours, your kisses turning much less romantic than before, having devolved into a messy, desperate display of tongue and teeth. It’s a different sort of display of passion, but it is passion all the same, and you couldn’t ask for anything better than this; Felix is perfect in everything he does, and this is no exception.

You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, and you know he must be close; so you keep your legs tightly wrapped around him, making sure that when his cum shoots inside you, it’ll be as deep as it can get. Feeling close yourself, and wanting to cum with him, you bring your free hand to your clit, rubbing it in the quick circles you know feels best for you. Within seconds, you’re cumming around his cock, and the way you squeeze and clench around him is enough to send him straight into his, his cum shooting out in long spurts, filling you to the brim.

You’re both breathless, hearts racing and bodies hot, and after collecting his breath, Felix kisses you again, not messy or desperate as just moment priors, but full of love, truly the happiest he has ever been. He doesn’t pull out of you until he feels himself start to soften, and he mutters for you to wait there for a moment and stay still as he rushes to the attached bathroom for a tissue to clean you up.

You wince a little, a bit tender and sensitive from all the attention you received, but Felix is gentle and careful, as he is with everything when it comes to you. When he’s done, you make your way under the blankets, shifting over to your side of the bed, waiting for him to blow out the candles and settle in next to you. Should you both get dressed? Maybe, but neither of you particularly want to- there’s something special and intimate in staying just as you are now, bare in each other's arms.

He holds you close, as he always does, kissing the top of your head, and smiling when you look up at him from where your head lies against his chest. “I love you so much,” he tells you and you smile too, pecking him on the lips and hugging him tight. “I love you too,” you whisper as you close your eyes, exhaustion quickly settling over you. You never imagined how happy you would one day become the day you became Felix’s wife, and now you know that it was actually a blessing in disguise, something you didn’t know you needed.

From the moment he first saw you, Felix knew you were the one, instantly enamored with you. He hoped with all his heart his marriage was one he could be happy in, that his wife would be someone he could truly love, and you answered his prayers from the very moment you entered his life. He doesn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but somehow, he just knew- you were perfect, the one he was destined to be with and love with all his heart, his soulmate.

It sounds like a cliche he’d find in one of your romance novels, but it’s genuinely how he feels. No one in this world would ever compare to you, and he’d forever be grateful to his parents, your parents, and even God himself, for putting you on this earth at the same time as him, and allowing you to be his wife. He wishes he had words stronger than “I love you,” or that he knew how to articulate himself in a way that would explain the depths of how he feels, but he supposes those simple words will have to do. He loves you, and there has never been anything he's been more certain of than that.

#skz x reader #lee felix x reader #skz smut #lee felix smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #i literally stayed up all night to finish this and now its 7am I AM GOING TF TO BED #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Oooo I have a soft request for Jason Todd! Wondering if I could please request Jason Todd x shy!reader? Little background, Shy!reader is the adoptive daughter of Superman and she got her adopted dad all his powers, including flying when she got injured, it took a transfusion of Superman blood to save her life. Pretty cute Jason and shy!reader are looking at the stars, just fluff. https://pin.it/5MuJAnCCR

Whenever you were stressed about anything, you would fly yourself to your hidden spot, it was a place so far removed from the public eye that it was often regarded as a restricted area, and stargaze for comfort.

At first it was a place solely for yourself as you just didn’t feel comfortable in sharing something that you had came across by yourself with another being, not without it being spread through word of mouth and then used as an place for everything that it’s not. That plus the fact that you often preferred your own company and not have to worry about seeing as rude or unsociable by others, especially whenever you didn’t feel like engaging in what they deemed as riveting conversation.

It just wasn’t your speed.

However you’ve begun to notice how easily frustrated and prone to outbursts Jason had become recently with the sudden spike in criminal activity within Gotham, In Which had Jason neglecting his sleep etiquette in favour for continuous back to back to back night patrols; something that didn’t help in the slightest either his already short temper and his impatience.

All you wanted to do in this situation was help him, and you soon came to the conclusion that by taking him to your sacred spot would relieve at least some of the stress. However the final step in making that happen was you having to ask him, which shouldn’t seem at all that hard but your mind couldn’t help but fool you into thinking the absolute worst of outcomes; and yet you knew you should at least make an attempt before believing the worst of everything.

‘Jason?’

‘What?’ He snapped and immeditly hating himself for it upon seeing you flinch at his sharp tone, taking small steps away from him until there was a response sided distance between the two of you. He didn’t mean to snap at you, never, after all you were the last person Jason would ever take his anger out on, and even then he wouldn’t ever dare do that. ‘I’m sorry chipmunk.’ He rasped, rubbing his hands into his tired eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just-‘

‘The phenomenon that is the crime rates in Gotham suddenly going up more then they have in the past week then they ever have in the past month.’ You cut him off, stepping closer to him and take one of his hands away from his eyes and holding it in your own. ‘This has forced yourself, Batman and any other active vigilante in the field to work overtime to combat it. I’m aware and you shouldn’t have to apologise for it.’ You concluded, raising his hand to your lips and kissing it several times as Jason’s hand went slack in your grasp.

‘Whatcha here for sweetheart because I know it’s just not to check up on little old me.’ Jason said and you cursed him for knowing you a little too well for your liking, but you wouldn’t want it any other way as it only reinforced your strong bond with one another.

‘I came here to see if you’d allow me to take you somewhere for a much needed change of scenery.’ You told him and Jason smiled, his tired eyes twinkled with amusement as his hand squeezed your own encouragingly. ‘Lead the way sweetheart.’ He said but soon laughed upon seeing your face as he kissed the side of your head affectionately. Not able to handle how naturally cute you were and whispered against your skin. ‘You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere buttercup.’

‘I do and I often worry about your blind trust in me.’ You replied but a quick trip outside town and following a beaten up dirt road later, you and Jason had found yourselves within the clearing of a forest where small grounds of three or five fireflies were scattered about here and there, providing a natural light within the otherwise dark forest. You and Jason then sat yourselves down as comfortably as you could on the lush green grass and Jason was taken by how peaceful everything was, from the fireflies flying before him, the small riverbank that ran past his left hand side, to the sound of leaves being ruffled by the breeze had him feeling more relaxed than before.

Jason could easily imagine you doing the most mundane things possible in this very clearing, whether that be making flower crowns, birdwatching, or taking a quick nap beneath a nearby tree with the cat you just saved, who has now formed an attachment. And yet Jason found beauty in all these things and you, that he felt somewhat envious that he didn’t get to partake in such activities with you because he knew he couldn’t allow for crime in Gotham to rise even further in his absence. While Jason was lost within his head, he didn’t notice that a couple of fireflies land peacefully on his head, not until he heard your poor attempts to silence your laughter.

He smirks at you, loving that he got to hear the sound of your laughter. ‘What’s so funny sweetheart?’

You pointed to his head, smiling so sweetly that Jason thought he’d get cavities, you truly made this man as soft and sappy as a schoolboy with a crush and he secretly thrives on it. ‘Just that there’s a couple of fireflies taking refuge on your head.’ You tell him and Jason went to run his hand through his hair just as a small cluster of fireflies flew back up into the air, directing both of your eyes towards the endless sea of stars that hung above. ‘They’re beautiful aren’t they?’ You asked aloud and Jason took a quick glance towards you to admire just how ethereal you looked beneath the blinking lights of the fireflies and smiled dopily.

‘More than they could ever realise.’ He replied before looking back at the stars just as you went to look at him with a similar look he had given you. ‘Much a diamond in the rough, they are equally as beautiful as they are important.’ You then reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers as you watched how Jason swallowed thickly and squeezed your hand back before looking back towards the stars yourself and allowing the silence to linger between the two of you.

‘This is truly a beautiful place you’ve brought me to chipmunk.’ Jason says after a while. ‘Are you sure you wanted to share it with me?’ He adds sheepishly and a tad uncertain of himself. He didn’t understand why you’ve brought him-whom some considered a violent man- to a place as peaceful and as beautiful as yourself…weren’t you scared that he’d one day destroy it?

You smiled and rested your head on his broad shoulder, pressing a kiss there as you watched as the fireflies twinkled in tandem with the stars. ‘There’s no one else I’d rather share this spot with than Jason. You may think you’re a violent man but you’ve proven yourself to be quite an emotional man also.’ You pressed another kiss to his arm in reassurance. ‘The moment I brought you here you’ve been nothing but respectful and cautious with your movements as though you’re worried you might step on a flower.’ Jason couldn’t help but laugh at that because it was true, he over thought his every movement as though one wrong move and he’d accidentally step on something he shouldn’t have. ‘I knew I made the right decision and now you can come here whenever you like, this place is just as yours as it is mine.’ You told him.

‘I’m only coming here if it’s to stargaze with my best partner.’ Jason said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, causing you to smile automatically. ‘I mean if that’s okay with you.’ He then adds and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how soft and sweet he was being, something he only ever was when it was just the two of you and you felt honoured in getting to see that side of him. ‘It’s more than okay with me Jaybirdie. I don’t want to stargaze on my own anymore now that you’re here.’ You admit and Jason felt relieved at this that he couldn’t help but be a little cheeky as a result.

‘Is it so that you can watch fireflies make a home out of my hair and not say anything about it?’ He asks, giving you a look. ‘Be honest.’

You shrugged your shoulders. ‘Guilty as charged.’

‘Come here you.’ Jason then lunged for you and while you put up a good fight, you were soon placed between his legs and your back was firmly pressed against his chest as his arms were latched onto your waist as to keep you in place. ‘Now this is better for the both of us, don’t you think firefly?’ He whispered into your ear as he rests his head on your shoulder to be closer to you.

‘Yes it is.’ You whispered back and for the remainder of the night you both sat there amongst the fireflies and watched the stars.

It wasn’t until later that Jason pointed out to you that you had a small cluster of fireflies yourself resting on your lap, blinking softly but didn’t say anything earlier because you looked too peaceful to be disrupted.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

Text

Avarice and Arrogance (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Aemond Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

Synopsis: Aemond was always confident that he could protect you and his family from any threat, but the Gods had to dole out a lesson for his impunity, and a particularly cruel one at that.

Warnings: TW! Character death, violence, torture, angst, Aemond being somewhat toxic??

Word Count: 2.6K words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for the reader. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: You guys asked for angst, I delivered an overdose. I hope you enjoy, although I’m not very proud of this one shot. Inspired after overplaying the epic version of Aegon’s Coronation theme. Ramin Djawadi is my true King of the Seven Kingdoms

wonderful dividers credited to @firefly-graphics

“He whispered his final wish that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him!”

To anyone, Prince Aemond seemed the portrait of composure: his arms clasped behind his back, his expression cool and disinterested. Yet if one looked closely enough, they would see the tension in his jaw, his teeth gritted, his posture bordering more on stiff than of calmness. His lone violet eye glittered as he observed Aegon walking under the raised swords of the knights, looking as recalcitrant as always.

‘Had that been me…’ he thought bitterly, ‘I would’ve carried myself with pride. The smallfolk would’ve took one look at me and trusted that I had the greatness, the capability, to lead House Targaryen into the apex of our power.’

‘And yet,’ Aemond mused to himself as his mother kissed Aegon on the forehead, ‘reality is often disappointing.’

His fists clenched at his sides. It was unfair, his brother was naught but a wastrel, a fool constantly drunk in his cups and oft found buried in the tits of some common whore. What right had he to rule, save for being the firstborn son? How could someone as useless as him be Lord of the Seven Kingdoms? Even with their grandsire by his side giving him counsel, when his half sister received word of the coronation, and of their father’s death…Aemond dreaded to think what would happen. Would Aegon be able to rise up to the defence of their family?

Aemond took a deep breath to steady himself, when suddenly, he felt a warm hand grasping his, gently unclenching his fingers from his tightly formed fist. Surprised, he looked over to the unexpected source of comfort. His lady wife stood next to him, an indifferent expression on her lovely face as she kept her eyes fixed on the smallfolk. He noticed that she was holding his sweet sister, Helaena’s hand in her other hand, and his mind halted in its baleful, raging course to settle on her instead, admiring her.

My beautiful, brilliant lady wife.

She would’ve been the most wonderful queen, he thought, and the wave of resentment began its course once more. As if sensing the switch in Aemond’s thoughts, she squeezed his hand lightly in hers. Aemond marvelled at his wife, amazed at how she always could sense the slightest shifts in his moods, even when her eyes were not on him. And just like that, the worry and the resentment fell away, and his envy for his brother became a little easier to bear, even just for that moment.

But…he felt a sense of strangeness creep over him as he took in his wife’s features. Her face was impassive, but it was hard and cold, as if she did not approve of this very scene. As Aegon raised Blackfyre and rallied the crowd, and his wife squeezed Helaena’s hand tighter, Aemond realised that mayhaps her gesture was not done solely out of comfort, but for anxiety.

For fear.

You were chewing on your bottom lip, Helaena’s hand still in yours as you both stewed in contemplative silence, each engulfed with thoughts and worries of your own. Aemond frowned as he watched his sister and his beloved. Aegon had ridden in a separate wheelhouse with their mother and grandsire, and mayhaps it was for the better, given the gloomy atmosphere.

When they were back in the safety of their apartments, Aemond followed his wife’s every movement in rapt attention. You began unravelling the tight updo that your hair was in, running your hands through your long locks pensively. It was done now…you were true traitors to the Crown. You sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl in bed and hope that this was nothing but an unpleasant dream.

Suddenly, you felt warm arms engulfing you from behind. Aemond dropped his chin onto his beloved’s shoulder as he embraced her, breathing in her scent. “Tell me what troubles you, my love,” his voice husky.

You shook your head slightly, trying to mask your thoughts. “Tis nothing, my love. I swear it.”

Aemond chuckled, a dark and soft sound. “Liar.”

He spun his beloved round to face him, taking note of her expression. “I know you are worried,” his voice was soft, “We are husband and wife, my love. Whatever troubles you hold, I want to know all of it. We swore before the Gods, did we not? To share each other’s burdens? We will honour our vows, do we not?”

Your lips twisted slightly, trying not to grimace. “If vows were of any matter to us, then we would not have committed such a grave sin.” Aemond frowned, the reasons for his wife’s anxiety suddenly becoming apparent to him. “Aegon is the King now,” he reminded her, “My father named him so.”

You let out a humourless snort. “He was an old man, half senile and drunk on the Milk of Poppy.” Aemond opened his mouth as if to protest, but you continued before he could. “The late king had named Rhaenyra as his heir. Even when the Stranger drew close, he had forsaken his health and braved through his pain to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim during Vaemond’s speech. Does the Hand expect all of Westeros to believe the King changed his mind all of a sudden on his deathbed? It is insanity, and even a deaf fool would know better.”

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice was low, tinged with warning. “You will not insult my grandsire like this. It is done now, and that is the truth.” You persisted, however. “Putting that aside, Rhaenyra will seek to have all our heads when the news breaks. How can your grandsire be as foolish as to put all of us in danger like this?”

Aemond arched a brow, “Is that what you’re worried about?” “Are you not worried about that?” Aemond laughed, “We have dragons, my love. I should think Vhagar, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre are enough to defend us. That whore on Dragonstone will soon realise that she can get angry, and she can spit and curse all she wants, but she cannot match against our might.”

You looked unconvinced, which irked Aemond a little. Why was she so worried? “Do not tell me,” his voice was low with menace, “That you are loyal to Rhaenyra. That you are sympathetic to that whore’s cause.” You kept mum, but your eyes told Aemond everything he needed to know. He snarled, moving to pin you against the wall.

Your eyes widened with panic, your hands moving to push Aemond away, but he held your wrists in a vice grip. You had never seen him so angry with you before. “You are my wife,” he hissed angrily, “Your priorities should lie with me, with my family. Our family. In keeping us safe from that accursed whore and my uncle.” “And making Aegon king, usurping the rightful queen, is supposed to keep us safe?” You argued, unintimidated. “Have you lost all your senses, Aemond? We are traitors! Usurpers! You claim protecting your family is your priority, but yet you allow your grandsire to risk our lives for his mad grab for power!” Aemond’s grip tightened on your wrists, causing you to wince and fall silent. Aemond took notice of that, but he couldn’t let you go. Not just yet. He needed to make his point.

“I said, do not speak of my grandsire in that manner,” he seethed. “He is my family, and I will not tolerate you insulting him.” He took a deep breath, letting go of his wife’s wrists, and she took the chance to push him away before fleeing to their bed. He sighed and sat down next to her, but she only moved away and folded her arms, turning her back on him. He heard a soft sniffle, and he realised with horror that she was crying. He had made her cry.

A pang of guilt shot through Aemond’s heart, and he tentatively reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, dismayed when she flinched away from his touch. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, my love,” he said quietly, “I got carried away, and I hurt you. I apologise for that.” He saw her shoulders lose some of their tension at his apology, and a glimmer of hope shone in his violet eye. Mayhaps he could make her see his viewpoint after all. He knew of her house’s loyalty to Rhaenyra’s claim, and how she might be swayed to support Rhaenyra’s claim, but she had to see. That this was the best for their family.

“My love…” he bit his lip, “I know my words were harsh, but it is true. What is done is done. Even if I dislike Aegon being on the throne, he is my brother. If Rhaenyra had taken the throne, she would’ve had us executed. She would not suffer any presence that could be a threat to her claim to the throne. Even if she did not, there is no doubt Daemon would.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Rhaenyra is impulsive, violent and reckless. You saw how she took off Vaemond’s head when his only crime was speaking the truth. Her son blinded me when we were naught but boys,” Aemond’s voice became hard. “If we allow her to ascend the throne, that means that the Strong bastard, Jace, would ascend the throne after her. Do you really think the realm would really bow before him?”

Your hard gaze softened a little, and Aemond saw a window of opportunity. “Think rationally, my love,” Aemond pleaded softly, “My father may have named Rhaenyra the heir, but it is an irreplaceable fact that the lords of Westeros would never bow before her. The Seven Kingdoms would plunge into chaos, do you really want that?” Aemond raised her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “I know you’re afraid of Rhaenyra’s wrath, but I ask of you to trust me. Trust that I will keep us safe, no matter what.”

“...I’m not sure if you can, Aemond.” Aemond’s heart dropped, “Whatever do you mean?” You finally turned to face him, and he was alarmed when he took note of the tears glistening at the corner of your eyes. “Aemond…I’m with child. For nearly three moons now.”

Aemond swore his heart stopped at that very moment. But his shock only lasted briefly before he pulled you into his arms, voice filled with excitement and wonder, “You’re with child? Our child?” When he broke the embrace, you were surprised to see the corner of his violet eye wet. Aemond dropped to his knees in front of you, stroking his hand over your stomach reverently, in disbelief almost. “We’re going to be parents…” he murmured, “I’m going to be a father.”

But even in Aemond’s joy, you could not find it in yourself to smile. Not with the threat of the impending succession war. Aemond noticed your discomfort, but nothing could take away the happiness he felt at the moment. “My love, you don’t have to be afraid,” his voice was reassuring, “I swear on my honour, on the Old Gods and the New, on the Seven and all my ancestors, that I would burn the world to ashes on Vhagar before I let anyone lay a finger on you or our child.” He took your hand, cradling it in his, tilting his head upwards, a pleading look in his eye, for you to believe in him, to trust him to keep you safe.

“But even all the dragons in this world will not keep us from reaping the fate we sowed,” you said quietly, eyes never leaving Aemond’s. “The gods will strike us down for our treason.”

Aemond rolled his eye, exasperated that his wife just didn’t seem to grasp the true extent of their power. “We are Targaryens, my love,” Aemond said self-assuredly. “We possess dragons, the largest, most dangerous and powerful creatures in the world. The gods may try as they might, but they can never strike us down. Seven hells, I would dare say we are the gods, my love,” Aemond chuckled at how your eyes widened at his brazen words. “For what other than a god can mount a dragon, and command it?” “Don’t say things like that, Aemond,” you were aghast, “The Seven will-”

“Fuck the Seven,” Aemond said bluntly. “When men pray, the Gods never answer. Why should we fear the consequences inflicted upon us by some unknown higher power?” He resumed his seat on their bed, pulling you back into his embrace and gently stroking your hair. “We need not fear the Gods, my love,” he murmured softly. “You will see soon enough, when war comes, and the Gods do nothing to interfere, then you will come to revere them less. In the meantime, you will come to see who the true gods are, when our dragons raze the earth and win this godforsaken war.”

It was known to all that the gods despise hubris, and perhaps they were watching that evening, when you laid your head on Aemond’s chest with a sigh and allowed him to soothe and comfort you, making promises that he would keep you safe no matter what.

Aemond had been so sure in his words, so confident in his beliefs and in his abilities, and blinded by his ego. Mayhaps this was what drove him when he bade Vhagar prowl around Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax in the stormy skies of Storms’ End, shouting for the Strong bastard to repay the debt he owed.

Mayhaps his pride was what had blinded him to the possibility that he could never keep his family safe after his act of kinslaying.

But he knew for sure that he had regretted making an enemy of the gods when he saw you, eyes wide with fear, a sharp dragonglass blade to your throat as you were held hostage by some cutpurse. An eye for an eye, a son for a son, the cutpurse had grinned, before slitting your throat and lodging the dagger into your stomach.

It mattered not how much Aemond had howled with grief as he held your lifeless frame in his arms, begging for you to wake up. It mattered not when Aemond personally tortured your assassin with the most vicious methods he could devise, flaying every inch of skin from his body until he had expired. Even in death, he was not spared of Aemond’s wrath. His body was marked with incisions when it was finally fed to Vhagar, courtesy of Aemond cutting out his heart and crushing it with his bare hands. It mattered not when Aemond had sworn to avenge you no matter the cost, to cut down Daemon Targaryen and give him the same treatment he had for the cutpurse. It took the combined efforts of the Queen Dowager, Queen Helaena, King Aegon, the Hand, and many other lords and knights of the Kingsguard to prevent him from mounting Vhagar upon the cutpurse’s death to fly to Dragonstone. A fool’s folly, they called it, but Aemond had drawn his sword and snarled at them to get out of his way, lest they wish to be the recipient of Vhagar’s flames. It was only when Alicent motioned for Ser Criston to deliver a blow that rendered Aemond unconscious that they could restrain him at all.

A part of Aemond had died that day, and he rained curses upon the Seven, on his uncle, on his wretched half-sister as he took his seat in the Small Council, being the advocate for absolute and brutal violence against the Blacks. And yet he did not repent for looking down upon the gods, not even till the day when he faced his uncle Daemon in battle and died in the cursed halls of Harrenhal. Another casualty of the Dance of the Dragons.

After all, even the Valyrian dragonlords of old had not been able to escape the Stranger’s clutches when death came for them. And Aemond Targaryen was no different.

...i’m very sorry :( but I swear, happier Aemond one shots are coming 😭

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

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“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face.

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices.

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his.

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'.

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it.

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do.

So he listened.

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights.

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her.

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding.

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with?

But there was still enough remaining to worry him.

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart.

“You’re lost.”

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts.

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist.

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his.

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you.

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer.

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.”

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him.

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his.

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email.

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did.

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room.

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar.

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head.

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it.

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match.

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved.

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness.

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach.

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form.

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him.

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose.

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you."

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy.

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away.

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting.

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing.

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more.

Jake sighed.

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby.

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to.

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away.

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child.

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree.

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked.

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world.

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction.

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you."

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate.

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him.

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench.

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him.

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 9 months

Text

.⋆｡Best Friend's Brother｡⋆.

Loki x plus size reader (platonic)

Thor x plus size reader

Loki held her in the highest regards and trusts her judgement more than anything, but maybe not about this

Warnings: smut, secret relationship, fwb to lovers, fluff, overprotective Loki, some nudity, being caught in the act, no use of y/n

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Loki was the clever one, the smart one who had a silver tongue so smooth he could talk himself out of the most dire of circumstances. Thor was the strong one, a head made of rocks and a body of steel with a determination that never faltered. They were two sides of the same coin, consumed by the arrogance of their own greatness, and perhaps for that reason led to this day.

It was quite a normal day for the dark prince. He dined and then ventured to the heart of the palace where the most precious and powerful books were kept, as well as someone who knew how to use them. Most of Asgard regarded her as the Keeper but the most elite of Asgard’s elite knew her as Loki’s.

She was a powerful magic user with strength enough to rival even the strongest of the Valkyries but she was also kind. She became the prince’s best friend when they were both mere children, acting as his confidant and a pillar when he and Thor began to grow apart. While there were many who speculated as to whether they were secretly together but it seemed though all their interactions were platonic enough.

The dark corridor was quiet as Loki walked along. He hummed to himself, content with the peacefulness that always settled over him as he made this journey. Yet a sudden moan broke through the silence, stopping him in his tracks. It was only then, when the sound of his own footsteps ceased, that Loki could hear the wet slaps and the chorus of groans and whines that indicated that she was, in fact, not alone.

He scoffed and turned to leave, she could have at least sent word to him if she was expecting company. But a loud moan of ‘Thor’ made him freeze. Loki’s eyes narrowed, he wouldn’t dare. The deep rumble of Thor’s voice confirmed his suspicions a moment later.

The door to her private chambers slammed open, revealing the now frozen couple to Loki’s furious gaze. His best friend in the entire universe, the one person he could wholly trust, sat atop his older brother, who he had complained about more times than he could count, both of them completely naked and covered in sweat.

“Really?” At least she had the decency to look even the slightest bit ashamed while Thor smiled broadly, sitting up so he could hide her chest against his own. “Him? You could do so much better.”

“Brother! Do not fret, I read your little friend like the queen she is!” But Loki did not look at him, instead his green eyes remained locked on her.

“How long?” She swung her plump legs off of her lover so she could fully sit on the mattress, taking only some of her sheets to cover herself and the rest left on Thor.

“Almost a year.” Loki’s brow raised as the feeling of betrayal washed over him. “We didn’t mean to keep it a secret! It’s just, one day Thor came to ask me for advice and one thing led to another. It was convenient for both of us, we trusted each other and we grew up beside one another so we kept seeing each other. But-“ She looked back at the blond god with a smile that Loki had never seen her wear before. Thor took the hand closest to him, placing a loving kiss on the back of her knuckles.

“But we fell in love.” The pinch in Loki’s dark brows faded as he watched the pair. Thor’s leg was pressed against her back, her free hand sitting on his calf, the fingers of their joined hands intertwining, it was obvious now. They could not bear to be apart from each other, even when being confronted.

Loki huffed a small laugh through his nose, drawing her attention back to him. “I should have known. You have been happier as of late. But I am quite surprised that the oaf kept it from me for so long.” Thor growled playfully as you bit back your giggles.

“Well brother it seems that I am the sneaky one now and my dove here will attest that I have quite the silver tongue.” He yelped as she smacked him on the shoulder, knocking him flat onto the bed. Yet his smile never faltered, in fact it only got wider. She was precious to Loki, she was an untouchable treasure that he wished to hide from the world in some vain attempt to save her from its horrors but he could never think clearly when it came to her.

But apparently, Thor was the level-headed one here. He curled his large body around her softer one, not trapping her but instead giving her a comforting touch as she looked up at her best friend. “Yet you kept it from me for so long. Do you not trust me?”

Thor was the one who answered. “We both wished to tell you but she was worried that it would shatter your trust in her and that it would destroy any positive relationship you and I had. I also wished to keep our love private so it could blossom without Odin breathing down my neck. I do intend to marry her, brother, but I wished for her to choose when without any pressures from others who have no business telling us what to do.” She nuzzled into his touch with a shy smile, her eyes burning bright with love.

Loki sagged into the armchair across from the bed, his head falling between his shoulders. “By the gods I am an idiot.” There was a rustle of fabric and then, out of the corner of his eye, she appeared, wrapped in her sheets, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You saw what you wished to see, simple as that.” He chuckled and looked up at her.

“I certainly did not want to see that.” But she just looked back at Thor who was now propped up against her headboard, one of her many quilts covering his body, his gaze already fixed on her.

“Then maybe knock next time.”

The princes were two opposite, unstoppable forces, both complementing each other in the best and worst ways but she was the unmovable object that slowed their rage and tempered their hate. Yet maybe, Loki thought, he needed to improve her tastes.

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Hi, can ask for romantic hcs of Affogatto Cookie with a Royal Darling? Tbh I don't remember much from the Cacao part of Kingdom

Honestly I stopped playing when the Dark Cacao Kingdom released, I watched some cutscenes though so I hope I got the basics of his character ^^ It feels a bit rushed but I hope I got my ideas across. I wanted to expand on this but the plot feels butchered :(

I really should play CRK again but I don't want to grind again, LOL.

Yandere! Affogatto Cookie with Royal! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Obsession, Attempted murder/just murder, Forced marriage, Trust issues, Forced relationship, Drugging.

In this story you are a royal of the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

You are another of Dark Cacao's children, persisting after Dark Choco's betrayal.

Safe to say you have some trust issues due to your brother....

Affogato is a very charismatic shaman (?) character.

He's manipulative and does his best to be trusted in the eyes of the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

He's simply someone looking for a place to belong!

He's definitely not some usurper to the throne.

When Affogato first meets you, he sees you as his key to the throne.

If he can gain your trust... your father will only ever trust him more.

Affogato is someone you don't trust as easily as most.

He shows up out of nowhere then tries to play himself off as your friend?

Yeah right....

You and your father have very different opinions on Affogato.

Dark Cacao trusts Affogato and his judgements, an idea you don't approve but can't fight.

"Father... can't you see it in his eyes? He lies to you with fake smiles!"

"Hold your tongue... Affogato is aiding us. He is no liar."

You only dislike the shaman even more when he accuses Caramel Arrow of stealing rations.

You felt that only you and Caramel Arrow knew of Affogato's lies at times.

Which is why you whispered that you were sorry for your father's actions when she is exiled.

You truly miss your first watcher... now the outside villages were bound to fall.

Affogato no doubt knows about your distrust.

He can tell you are annoyed at your father's obsessive need to fortify defenses... and his oblivious behavior towards the shaman's scheming.

Affogato knows he can't exile you like the others as your father still adores you, he also knows he can't convince you to go against your father fully... as you still love him too.

Affogato comes up with a new plan...

He'll simply try to be on your good side.

While Affogato's obsession started out as trying to be nice and gain your trust... it transitions to ulterior motives.

After all, what better way to gain the throne than to marry the king's child?

The shaman would try to play his cards right.

You are not easy to convince, Affogato knows this too.

It's frustrating to him, yet he'll try to be patient.

You notice Affogato become increasingly friendly towards you.

Your father sees nothing wrong with this...

You ignore Affogato's attempts to gain your favor, but he never goes away.

Affogato plans to marry you just for power st first.

In order to do that he has to prove himself.

Although... the deceptive man gets obsessed with the idea of you more than power the longer he tries.

You had a certain beauty towards you...

You held loyalty towards your father and hate towards anyone who was similar to your brother.

You hated deceivers... you scoffed at betrayal...

Such harsh beliefs didn't ward Affogato off in the slightest.

The shaman always brewed you the sweetest drinks and spoke to you in a tone as soft as velvet.

You narrowed your eyes at his cat-like orbs, scoffing at how he giggled mischievously in conversation when you answer or accuse him.

"Why do you try to be close with me, snake." Is your response each time Affogato wished to talk.

"Your majesty, I only think we should know each other more. You are awfully stuborn... it hurts my feelings. Is it so wrong to just talk? Our kingdom would fall if you held any false accusations towards those who wish to help."

You're never going to be able to fully trust the shaman after the betrayal of your brother.

This only ever annoys Affogato, as by the time his plan is almost in place, he's actually fallen for you.

You tolerate him... that's as far as he can get.

That is until he allied with Dark Enchantress and gets Dark Choco to rid the Dark Cacao Kingdom of its king.

It's a newer better plan....

When you hear the news of your brother coming back to kill your father... Affogato actually sees your personality change.

You break.

He sees your stern and hateful persona that's always up around him change to that of grief and vulnerability.

Something the shaman pounces on.

Affogato claims to the kingdom that you are in no shape to rule... alone, that is.

He makes a proposal that he becomes king with Dark Cacao gone.

Just until you are fit to lead....

Then, on top of that, he even alludes to the idea of a marriage between him and you.

When you hear of this news from him at your door, you're furious.

You blame him for your father's death.

Him taking the throne is enough already... then Affogato pauses your rage with one sentence for a moment.

"Not only am I king now... you are meant to be married off."

"Married off...? What nonsense do you speak of!?"

When Affogato gives you a cheshire grin, you freeze.

"Don't you get it? I've planned a marriage between you... and me!"

You feel your blood run cold when he laughs.

"Trust me... it's what your father would've wanted."

Affogato is devilish enough to not only have your father killed and steal his thrown... but he also has the audacity to force your marriage.

"You have enough power. Why must you marry me now that my father is dead?" You ask with fury, tears dribbling down your face.

"Don't cry, dear. Maybe I don't want to marry you for power? I promise despite our differences, I have fallen for you... your beauty is as beautiful as the sugary white snow outside our kingdom walls. I was bound to want you someday...."

Affogato expects your resistance, you have always been so stubborn around him.

You don't have much of a choice in the matter, unfortunately.

"I'll kill you for this...." He hears you whisper through tears.

The murderer only laughs again.

"You won't."

Before he leaves the room, the shaman would place a cup full of brew on the table.

"Now, drink up will you? You're so worked up...."

"I'll never accept anything from you-"

"That's unfortunate...."

Affogato has surprising strength when he wrenches your jaw open, dumping the sweet drink down youd throat before cocking your head back to swallow.

The entire experience leaves you surprised... and tired...

"You should really stop fighting me, love..." Affogato hums, placing you back on the bed in your room.

"After all... I'm your king now... and you'll learn to obey me in the end. Sweet dreams... you have a big day tomorrow, dear."

The Dark Cacao Kingdom's fate was no longer in your hands... as you drift off due to the drink shoved down your throat, you dread of what awaits next for you and your home.

#yandere cookie run kingdom #yandere affogato cookie #yandere cookie run

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sparklyfaerie · 10 months

Text

Zelink Week - Day 2: Forbidden

Since Ao3 is still down, I'm posting my submissions here until such a time as I can get it on the archive. @zelinkcommunity

Title: False Worship Summary: Really, what had her father expected? They are neither of them paragons of virtue, no matter how hard they try to give that impression. It had been inevitable that they’d be drawn to each other.

Words: 4,163 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Zelink (Breath of the Wild, pre-calamity) Extract:

They shouldn't be doing this—especially not here, not in a sacred spring of the old gods. But Zelda just doesn't care. The gods have ignored her all her life, despite her endless supplications. Despite all the soothsayers remaining convinced that she is the sacred princess of legend, destined to seal Calamity Ganon away. Why should she care about desecrating their holy sites? Maybe, this way, she might finally gain their attention—even if only to strike her down for blasphemy. It will be a pity to take Link with her, but she's already going to get him killed because she can't awaken her stupid powers anyway.

Ao3 Tags under the Read More

Ao3 Link Now Here! Tags: Pre-Calamity, Talking Link, Zelda needs a hug, Smut, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Zelda hates Hylia a lot, and her father a little, minor in-universe blasphemy, First time, Unsafe sex

False Worship

If her father had known what assigning Link as her personal knight would lead to, Zelda is a hundred percent certain that he would not have gone through with it.

At first, she'd hated being left alone with him out in the wilderness. He'd been silent and watchful, barely speaking a word unless spoken to—and even then, keeping his answers as concise and neutral as possible. He'd made her feel judged and found wanting—at least until she'd come to understand him.

Now, she's rather glad that her father trusts him. It means there's no one around to witness them push aside their boundaries and cross into forbidden territory.

The waters of the Spring of Power splash and ripple as she drags him into it, mouth hot on his. His hands immediately slide down her body to cup her rear, the heat of them scalding her through her wet prayer gown.

He turns them on the spot and backs her toward the stairs, lifting her onto the lip of the stone next to them. His lips find her throat as her fingers bury themselves in his hair, tugging his tie out and tightening against his scalp. Her head dips back at the slightest suggestion of teeth—not enough to bruise, but there will be red marks for at least a few minutes when he's done with her.

"There is nothing wrong with you." He breathes into her ear as her free arm wraps around his shoulders. "Nothing."

She tugs him to stand between her parted thighs, his hands leaving burning trails as they push sodden fabric up, up, up. Her breath hitches as he tugs her earlobe between his teeth.

Of course there's something wrong with her. She's letting her knight have his way with her in a sacred spring, for goodness' sake.

…or is she having her way with him? She's not sure. She's relatively certain that he would never put his hands on her without her reaching for him first, at the very least. And he would certainly never desecrate such a holy place of his own volition.

Maybe it's just her, after all. He certainly doesn't seem to have lost Hylia's favour for defiling Her descendant. At least, not yet.

His lips seek hers, and then his tongue is in her mouth. She sighs through her nose, pressing herself against him and feeling the warmth of his frame bleed through their drenched clothing. Her fingers are cold when she sneaks them up under his tunic, but he doesn't so much as flinch as her thumbs brush against the bones of his pelvis.

She feels bad that she uses him like this, to soothe the ache that repeated failure has settled between her ribs. But still, she exults in the feeling of warm fingers tightening into the flesh of her thighs before he curses, fumbling with her uncooperative smallclothes.

She rakes her fingernails over his abdomen when his hand slips beneath sodden fabric, tearing her lips from his to bury her face in his shoulder. His fingers burn as they slip between her folds, fumbling, seeking.

They've only done this a small handful of times, and neither are particularly experienced. Zelda has never lain with a man before, and she's fairly certain that he's never had a woman, either. He'd once confessed to her that he felt pressured to live up to an unrealistic ideal of courage and virtue, to have a pristine reputation and never set a toe out of line. That means there can be no string of jilted lovers left in his wake.

Really, what had her father expected, throwing two repressed young people into each other's company, out of view of prying eyes? They are neither of them paragons of virtue, no matter how hard they try to give that impression to the world. It had been inevitable that they'd be drawn to each other, that lines would be crossed.

Link may be as inexperienced as she, but he's a quick study. He finds her clit after a few moments of searching, cursing through gritted teeth as he sets to pressing his fingers against her. She makes a broken noise into the fabric of his tunic as her thighs clench around his hips, pelvis jolting at the sensation.

"Too much?" He asks breathily.

"A little." She admits.

His touch eases up into something far more manageable—and altogether more glorious. She sighs into the crook of his neck, lips pressed against the throb of his pulse. His skin tastes of sweat and spring water, his heartbeat strong and rapid under her lips. "How's that?"

She tightens her arms around his shoulders, panting into his ear. She makes an approving sound from deep within her throat, humming as he sets into a rhythm that makes her blood run hot.

Maybe, this way, she might finally gain their attention—even if only to strike her down for blasphemy. It will be a pity to take Link with her, but she's already going to get him killed because she can't awaken her stupid powers anyway.

It's inevitable, she thinks absently as he removes his fingers and lifts her rear from the cold stone. Knowing what he wants, she struggles with sodden, clinging fabric, letting him lower her legs back to stand in the water so he can help divest her of her prayer gown. It drops with a wet thwap into the water beside her, immediately borne away by the current and over the small waterfall that feeds the bottom half of the spring.

She's overheating, even though she's completely bare from the waist up. She scrabbles with her smallclothes, shimmying them down her hips to complete her nakedness.

He hikes her back up onto the stone and kisses her again—hot, wet, and wanton. The stone is smooth from thousands of years of weathering under her buttocks, chill to the touch. But then, Zelda is already cold, heated skin erupting into gooseflesh as she reclines. Water seeps from her hair, pooling around her as she lowers her back to the ground, lifting and parting her legs to make room for him to lean over her.

Link's lips near scald her when he begins trailing kisses down her body. He worries a red mark into the space underneath her breast, before trailing down, over her stomach to between her thighs. He kneels, as if in prayer—as if he's before an altar, though the real one is behind him. As if there's anything about Zelda worth worshipping.

She can almost feel the judgement in eyes of the statue of Hylia, gazing placidly down at them from across the water, as Her holy champion prepares to put his mouth on Her descendant.

It makes her burn all over.

He presses wet kisses from her knee up her thigh, teeth and tongue gentle on her skin. Careful, ever careful not to leave evidence behind. She wishes he could mark her properly, that he could suck bruises into her skin, to leave his mark on soft flesh—but a princess has no privacy. Someone will see.

Her father would be furious. Even if Zelda denied that it was Link who had touched her, even if anyone believed her, he would still be dismissed for taking his eyes off her long enough for her to take a lover.

It had taken her a long time to accept that Link's post had been earned. As the Chosen Hero, the only thing he'd have to do would be to help her seal the looming darkness. He doesn't have to be her protector. Any old knight can be a royal bodyguard; he had earned the job with his bravery and skill.

He doesn't have to be her friend, either; he'd wormed his way into her affections with his kindness and compassion, by making her feel listened to and cared about and seen.

She doesn't want to take his accomplishments away from him. So she bites her tongue and doesn't beg him to leave evidence behind.

Her eyes stare up, unseeing, at the night sky as his lips finally close around her clit, tongue flicking gently. Her shaking hand reaches down and cards through his hair as she sighs, eyes slipping closed to block out the moon and the stars above.

The warmth of him is solid and real, something she can reach out and physically touch. His presence has gone from a thorn stuck in her side, reminding her of her failures, to a warm comfort that soothes the ache of disappointment every time her prayers go unanswered.

One of her feet slips to dangle in the sacred waters. Link hefts it up over his shoulder without breaking away from her. His fingers dig into her hips as he pulls her closer, bare skin scraping against stone.

She whimpers when two fingers slide into her, flexing and searching for the spot he'd discovered last time—the spot that had made her squirm and shake and cry out.

It's good—he's so good. He gives and gives and gives and gives, and never asks for anything in return. He'd nearly had an aneurysm the first time she'd gotten on her knees for him, in the woods on the way home from the Spring of Courage, trying to assure her that she didn't have to, that he was okay, that he didn't need her to do that for him.

She wonders if he'll let her do it again.

Maybe, she thinks foggily as he finds what he's looking for and she cries out, she's been worshiping at the wrong altar all along. She'd certainly felt a kind of power with her lips wrapped around him, his hand gentle in her hair as he'd steadied himself against a tree with a soft groan. It had been wicked, and sinful, and not even the tiniest bit holy, but it had been something.

Her hips jump against his face as he sucks, massaging her from the inside. The hand in his hair tangles and pulls, her free one scrabbling against stone without finding purchase. He twists his fingers, and her eyes fly wide, back arching off slick stone as her mouth opens in a silent scream.

Stars spin above her as moonlight ripples on the water around him. When she collapses onto her back and lifts her head to look down at her knight, she finds him haloed in reflected light.

His eyes are on her. She shivers as their gazes lock, something dark and feral hidden behind blown out pupils drinking her in.

Her head drops back against the ground, whimpers breaking free as her thighs start to twitch and her hips begin to grind against his face. It won't be long, now. Link is incredibly skilled in all that he does—it only makes sense that that extends into bed sports, too.

For once, she doesn't envy him his proficiency. Not with her being the beneficiary of this particular skill.

She comes with a cry rending the night air.

He withdraws his hand and lips as she comes down, spent and twitching and boneless. The chill is beginning to seep in; her teeth start to chatter as she pushes herself into a sitting position. Link is bent over in the spring, using the sodden hem of his tunic to wipe off his lips and chin with sacred water.

She spies the Goddess statue over his shoulder, her eyes narrowing in contempt against imagined condemnation. As if she's wilfully sullying Link with her imperfections when he has every opportunity to say 'no'.

"I'll get your dress, Princess." Link offers into the silence, voice strained but utterly unwilling to ask anything of her.

Zelda's hand snatches out, wrapping around his wrist. Wide, dilated eyes find hers.

She loves to see him unmade, the image of Hyrule's perfect hero mussed and blurred. He looks wild; wet up to his chest, hair loose and unkempt, flush high in his cheeks and eyes dark with want. He looks perfectly mortal and human and attainable.

She doesn't know what he sees when he looks at her. She's sure she can't look like more than a pathetically naked girl with reckless fury in her eyes. Not directed at him—never at him, not anymore—but against a world and a Goddess that asks so much of her that she just cannot do.

"Come here." She tugs his wrist.

He steps back between her thighs.

Undoing his belt is easy enough; metal doesn't become harder to handle when wet. The ties on his trousers give her a little more trouble, but she gets them undone enough to draw him out and into her hands.

She seriously considers spinning him around and sinking to her knees before him in a different kind of prayer than the kinds she's spent all day fruitlessly offering. But she spots the statue again, and something wild and self-destructive takes hold in her chest.

"Come here." She says again, scooting forward until she's just hanging over the edge of the stone.

He seems to read her intent. "Princess—we can't—"

"Why not?" She challenges, breathing into his ear, trailing butterfly kisses down his jaw to the corner of his lips. "Because I'm a princess? I don't care about that."

He says nothing in response. She hears him swallow thickly.

She draws back to meet his gaze, eyebrows raised. Without saying a word, she begins to stroke him, touch feather soft. She knows the skin of her hands is silky and soft, maintained by a rigorous skincare routine imposed upon her by her maids. Logically, it must feel different from the times he's taken himself in hand, with all his calluses.

"We don't have to if you don't want to." She tells him as he screws his eyes shut and leans his palms on the ground on either side of her hips. He doesn't answer right away. She tightens her fist around him a little, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out, frame jolting against hers.

"I want to." He groans, his forehead coming to rest against her shoulder. "But I shouldn't."

"If you want to, you should." She kisses the tip of his ear. "I want to." She teases a little, taking it between her teeth and biting gently.

His answering chuckle is hot against her collarbone. "As my Princess commands."

He never calls her by name, she thinks with displeasure. She's given up trying to tell him to.

His hands are rough and callused on her hips as he drags her forward, almost completely off her purchase; she's forced to leverage herself against him, breasts crushed to his chest as he reaches down to hold himself. The fabric of his tunic rubs against her nipples, sending shocks of sensation whizzing through her.

Her arms wrap around his frame as he presses inside her. One hand fists in the sodden fabric of his tunic, the other in his wild hair as she stretches around his intrusion—a delicious burn that she feels creeping all the way along her spine and punching the breath from her lungs.

The statue watches on as they breach this final barrier—a line they've never crossed before in all their fumbling exploration. This is something so far beyond forbidden that it crosses over into taboo. Even if she'd ordered him at knifepoint to take her, Link could be executed for his.

The thought makes her nearly combust. His entire frame shudders as her legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking over his clothed buttocks.

"Are you alright?" His face is buried in her neck, nose bumping against her pulse. "It doesn't hurt?"

"You feel wonderful." She breathes, tightening her limbs around him.

For once, she feels wild and free and alive.

Zelda's mother had told her a legend of the Goddess when she'd been a little girl. It was said, her mother told her, that the Goddess had loved Her chosen hero so much that She had chosen to submit Herself to the cycle of reincarnation when he'd been cursed by a great evil, so that She would be there to support him when he was inevitably reborn. The hero was Her true love, destined to find and love Her in every life.

Zelda certainly doesn't feel like Hylia reborn—but Link is, without question, Her beloved hero. And, right now, in this moment, he isn't Hylia's. He's hers. Zelda's. She holds him inside her body and within the circle of her arms, the heat of him seeping into her from the inside out.

His movements are jerky and unpractised, and probably not helped by the tight hold she keeps on him. Water sloshes around his thighs and he grunts against her throat. His hands cradle her hips, moving her with him in an instinctive rhythm that she can't even begin to understand.

She closes her eyes against the sight of the Goddess watching on in disapproval. She embraces her rumoured, supposed impiety. If her virtue isn't good enough to gain the Goddess's favour, then it's useless to her. Better to give it to someone who already finds her worthy.

"Touch me." She breathes into his ear, panting in time with his movements.

A hand leaves her hip to slide between their bodies and fumble at slippery flesh. She forgets, briefly, who and where they are—she forgets about her failure and the disapproval of her father, about the whispers among the court and the condemnation of the Goddess, about her power and the ruin it will bring if she doesn't awaken it. All she knows is the man buried between her thighs; his grip on her hip, the feel of him in her arms, his breath skating across heated flesh.

She's still sensitive from her previous orgasm, fluttering around him as he jerks into her. That sensation, combined with his fingers, fills her to the brim and causes her skin to overheat.

He curses into her throat. "Princess—Princess I have to—" She feels him try to withdraw. She makes a noise of disapproval, pressing closer to him and tightening her legs around his hips. "Princess—I can't finish inside—"

Just the thought of it curls her toes. She comes again with a cry at his words, a distant part of her brain noting that mental stimulation seems just as effective as physical.

"Shit—shit—!" Link shudders in her arms, and she feels him grind against her, hand snatching back to her hip and pulling her roughly against him. There's a spasm and unfurling warmth spilling inside her. Her legs had locked around him in orgasm—she'd unintentionally prevented him from pulling out.

She should be worried about that, but she's strangely calm about the whole thing as they collapse against the stones in a heap of damp, panting cloth and flesh. Her fingers run absently through his hair as he presses his forehead into her breasts.

He tenses after a moment. "I'm sorry." He scrambles off of her, eyes wide and panicked. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's alright." She pushes herself to sit with shaky arms. Her nerves are still fluttering as she regains her breath.

"But—"

She shakes her head. She already feels cold without him. "There are medicines that can… flush out anything that takes root. Purah won't ask questions if I tell her I need one." She feels hollow as she says the words.

He relaxes, running his hands over his face.

The feeling grips her, sudden and unbidden, that she wishes she wouldn't need such an elixir. That, if she found herself carrying his child, they could elope like regular people and raise their baby far away from disapproving eyes.

Tears prick at her eyes as her mind follows that path—to a future where Calamity Ganon never comes, where she can keep him forever and won't get him killed with her ineptitude. She buries her face in her hands and curses the Goddess for taunting her by placing him within her reach, but surrounding them with circumstances that prevents her from holding him properly.

"Princess? Are you—did I hurt you?!" Link's voice is aghast. When she lifts her head, cheeks wet with tears, his expression is pained. It's the most expressive she's ever seen him—because he thinks he's done something to hurt her. As if he's ever truly done anything to hurt her. She can only laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"No." She shakes her head, looking down at the bare skin of her lap. She can feel his spend beginning to leak out of her, pooling on the stone and running into the sacred waters. "No, I'm fine. I just—I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry."

His hands come up to her shoulders, thumbs moving soothingly against her skin. His face ducks into her line of sight, eyes soft and kind. "Is there something I can do?"

You could run away with me, she thinks wistfully.

Instead of saying that, she gives him a watery smile. "Could you get my gown, please? I… need to clean up." She fights the urge to press her thighs together against the slightly uncomfortable trickling sensation.

"Of course." He doesn't kiss her again, like she wishes he would. Instead, he gives her shoulders a slight squeeze before letting go, wading toward the small waterfall and splashing down into the lower portion of the spring.

Zelda lowers herself back into the water. They've already defiled the spring by—she winces—fucking in it. She can't imagine cleaning away the evidence in its waters will damn her any more than she already has been.

It's terribly cold now that all is said and done. Still, she doesn't regret it. Now, even if they do succeed, even if her father decides to marry her off to some foreign prince or haughty noble, she can always remember that the first man she'd had had been one that she'd loved. Not a lot of women can say the same, especially women of rank.

She's not naïve enough to believe that she can ever keep Link in any meaningful way. Even if he loves her with the same all-consuming passion that she does him, her father would never permit it. Chosen by the Goddess or not, Link is a commoner. At best, if they somehow succeed, he'll be granted some kind of noble rank and shuffled off to a country estate to marry some nobleman's daughter, and Zelda will make the marriage that best secures Hyrule's political future.

And if they die, which is far more likely? Then at least she will have this experience to hold close to her heart for the rest of her short life.

As clean as she can make herself with only water and her own fingers, she wades, naked, out to stand in front of the altar with the statue. She pauses there for a moment, staring up at the Goddess's impassive face.

She offers no prayers, no supplications. She simply stares in defiance of the Goddess' judgement, daring Her to finally break Her silence to condemn her for her impiety.

Silence. There is only the rush of the water around her.

Sneering, Zelda slaps the surface of the spring, sending a wave of droplets spraying across the stone.

"Curse you." She mutters, glaring up at the statue.

It stares back placidly. Silently. Unflinchingly.

In this moment, Zelda has never hated anything more than the Goddess who turns a deaf ear to Her own descendant.

"Princess?" Link's voice calls over the spring. When she turns to him, he's holding a towel over his arm. "We should dry off. You'll get sick."

Her heart twists in her chest as she stares at him. Gods, but she wants to keep him. She wants to be able to hold him in her arms forever and tell him that she loves him, without having to worry about kings or countries or ancient evils.

But she is the Princess of Hyrule. Such a thing will never be within her grasp.

She wades toward him, taking his hand when he offers it to help her up the slippery steps. Gingerly, he wraps the towel around her shoulders. "I'll build up the fire again." He murmurs.

She nods silently. Then, he turns his back, and she says nothing as she watches him go.

"Curse you." She mutters under her breath again. Whether she's cursing Hylia, herself, her father, Ganon, or even Link… she doesn't know.

#zelink #zelink week 2023 #Day 2: Forbidden #my fanfiction

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igotanidea · 1 year

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Selflessness : Matt Murdock x fem!reader pt 2

part 1

A/N: This is rather short, but gives some insight of what's coming.

„Hello?” her voice echoed through the empty vault making the situation a bit ominous than it really was. After all she came here to give help not to be chased by the army of the zombies from some horror movie. Right? If Maggie and father Lanthom trusted this man enough to take him and asked her to help he couldn’t have been of any danger or anything like that, right? Nonetheless, the darkness, quietness and characteristic scent or the room make her tremble slightly. “Hello?” she called again, now in a bit more shaky-manner.

Still no answer.

Unsure if she should just get back upstairs as soon as possible or wait for the man to come back from wherever he went she started pacing around, until the sound of something similar to punching a boxing bag came to her ears. Now she was intrigued. From what she figured out, the man located here was heavily injured, so was there someone else? But how? When? Why? As quiet as she could she took a few steps towards the sounds of grunting and groaning. Much to her surprise she noticed man in his late 20 or early 30, with his arm bandaged and with few cuts on the face breaking a sweat in a way no one in his condition should ever do.

“Stop it!” she cried making the man spun around and look at her face. His eyes were so …. Different. Like he could not see her and yet saw more than met the eye. He was obviously blind and it intensified Y/N’s shock and surprise.

“Stop what exactly, honey?”

“This. This….” She waved her hand around not sure how to express herself. “ whatever this is. You are hurt and …..”

“And what?” he smirked

“And you should be resting and …..”

“I had enough rest.” He muttered resuming his previous activity. Or at least he tried to, since Y/N finally regained her ability to move and stepped between him and the bag, almost daring him to punch her.

“No.” she said calmly.

“Ok, let’s make one thing clear here, sweetheart. You should move out of my way.”

“No.” Y/N shook her head again even if he could not see it.

“And who are you to stop me?”

“My name’s Y/N. I help sister Maggie and father Lanthom with taking care of …..”

“Of strays?”

“Mostly of abandoned kids. But I’ve learned it’s not always the matter of age.”

“Then what?”

“ Mentality.”

“Are you suggesting I am immature?” his eyes narrowed as he focused all his senses on her, searching for fastened heart race, heat on cheeks or any other symptom of being intimidated and not finding any. This girl might have been a bit naïve and way too pure hearted for her own good but was also stubborn and unwavering.

“I’ve just met you, how can I say?” she said.

“You can’t.”

“I can’t. But what I can is make sure you are not a threat to yourself.”

“Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew…..” he laughed wholeheartedly and it was so different from the harsh tone he was using before, both true amusement and sarcasm mixed in the sound.

“I don’t need to.” She cut him off “I don’t care about your past or what you did before. If you need help….”

“Tell me something, princess” he took a step closer and she involuntarily moved back almost tripping over her own feet “if I was a murderer, a criminal, a killer…. Would you still help me?”

“Yes.” She answered immediately, without hesitation

“Why?”

“I don’t play God, mister. It’s not in my power to decide who gets to live and who dies. If a human being is injured or in pain, deserved or not, I am here to help it. And if the need arises, give one to the competent authorities.”

“What about if I were a kid crime perpetrator?. If I hurt one of those abandoned kids you seem to love so much?”

“Still the same answer.”

“ And what if…..?”

“You’re just playing with my mind right now, aren’t you? My answer is still the same. I wouldn’t be any better than any common criminal if I appealed to violence or…. or…. negligence.”

“Strong morals.” He smirked but she did not budge in the slightest, not irked by his mockery . “I guess you are one of those high class girlies, born in a good family, never did or experienced anything bad in your life.”

“You know nothing about me. You have no right to say those words if you don’t know ….” Now her voice became slightly more annoyed. The tone changed almost imperceptibly, and anyone else wouldn’t even catch on it, but Matt was … well, more perceptive. Only now, he realized the poor girl did nothing wrong and that he let his anger speak for him.

“ Your right. Sorry.” He looked down, a bit more calm now.

“Accepted.”

“Just like that?” that was new approach to his actions and attitude. Sure, Matt had friends who were always willing to forgive him for his words and harshness, but it was not something he was used to. With his martyr-like approach he was rather prepared for being scoffed.

“Sure.” Y/N shrugged “From what I figure you’ll be staying here a while, and I will be helping so we might as well have proper relation.”

“What if I don’t want…..” he started but bit his tongue before finishing

“I’m Y/N.” she reached for his hand and shook it firmly.

“You said it.” He pointed out smiling lightly “I’m Matt.”

@somest1

@pinksirensong

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divine-jupiter · 2 years

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Astrology Observation #4

I've noticed through personal experience that Aries and Aquarius are not harmonious in close and constant contact, especially when it comes to making decisions on a situation. The Aries native likes to lead and feels agitated when the Aquarius native ignores what they say and does their own thing. There has to be similar planetary placements in both charts for this companionship to work.

Scorpio Moons are so intense yet so sweet. I know they can be intimidating, but I find them to be so raw and authentic with what they say. And they have to trust and value you to say what's deep on their mind, so if they do, consider yourself highly valued in their heart. They don't just say things. When they speak they are speaking from a place of deep devotion and love.

Virgo Suns with a Scorpio Moon are pure sex appeal. Idk what it is, but you all have this depth of warmth about you that is so pure and almost shy and at the same time NOT. I can't quite describe it. Your sincerity is rough yet gentle and your attention becomes so enrapt in conversation, like you hear every single word spoken. I'm jealous of that. It's such an underrated trait and people should talk about it more. Thank you for being so attuned to the rest of us. You're just... so real.

Aquarius Suns with a Scorpio Moon are POWER. And you've got that idgaf attitude. You exude this gravity and presence that canNOT be ignored. The one native I met with these placements was a tarot reader with the Death card tattooed on her chest and beautiful piercing blue eyes. She had a deeper voice, but it wasn't overly sexy... yet it somehow was? Idk, you Aquarius energies are so wonderfully bizarre, like you can make anything sexy and I love that about you.

I've Pluto in my 7th House and I attract a lot of Scorpio energy (Scorpio Moons, Scorpio Mars and Scorpio Ascendants). I also have Venus in Scorpio. Does anyone else with Pluto in the 7th experience this?

Aries children are so intuitive! The way they pick up on the subtleties of adult conversations can be very inconvenient at times. Lol! They are also deeply aware of their mother's emotional state and can sense the slightest change. Sometimes, these changes can make the Aries child unsure and nervous, and this shows in their attentive clinginess.

#astrology #astrology observations #scorpio moon #aquarius sun #aries sun #virgo sun #pluto placement #pluto 7th house #astrology*

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shawtylilsalty · 10 months

Text

desperate desire | PJM

Pairing: park jimin × reader

Rating: 18 +

Genre: Mafiavampire!jimin, fallenangel/demon!oc, ancient family rivals, supernatural au ( 21st century )

Summary: jimin as the vamp was never supposed to interact with the demons but things escalated at the dark masquerade ball, while you're the only one who could physically hurt him in the worst way... yet also the only one who could heal him to his best too.

Warnings: This is purely for fictional purposes ONLY 18+ content, violence, aggressive behaviour, mention of blood, dark and unsettling themes, please read at your own risk

A/n: mafia shit can be cringe but trust me on this one hotshots, also third person just made sense with jimin so don't question it. first fic on Tumblr! Show some love <3

" You're the woman I kissed, Aren't you? " The country's most ruthless, heartless mafia vampire spoke; looking back at her, making his perfectly made fangs appear for just a second. The tone of his voice was scary, terrifying even. His mouth was agape, trying to process how he kissed the woman from the family of their rivals.

I knew coming here was a mistake.

"It was not by choice, no matter how desirable you may be, if i knew it was you i wouldn't even be at that dark place" I spoke as he dragged me down towards the royal basement of this stupid ball.

all the supernaturals attended the dark ball. It only takes place once every 58 years; it's been some kind of ritual since the past 13430 years- if i cared enough about it I'd be a part of the royal founding families by now.

"You should be glad the lights were down low" i trailed off for a moment before quickly pulling my arm from his hold as we stopped at the end of the stairs. "Because if i knew in the slightest? I wouldn't hold back from ruining that pretty face of yours"

Jimin's piercing red gaze burned into hers. He was angry, and furious. He wanted to strangle the life out of her! He approached her, his face inches from hers as he stared at her with his penetrating eyes; his cold breath invading her mouth. He stared her down before suddenly gripping her arm and pulling her close to his chest, whispering into her ear in a demonic tone.

"Back up now park jimin" I sing his name out in the sweetest way possible. Full of mockery. "don't you underestimate my powers"

I look at him with a cold stare while a dark smirk plastered on my face

" Do you want to die? " His red eyes flickered dangerously as he leaned even closer to her face, his arm flexing as he grabbed her arm harder causing her to squirm uncomfortably against his hold. His voice was cold, ruthless just as his eyes were.

"you see..You just can't kill me even if you try" i twisted to one side and stared at him with a tilted head, ignoring the hard grip on my arm

"I'm immortal baby"

I say as if it wasn't obvious enough. The demonic tone comes naturally as i push him away with all my power, having him stumble back against the opposite wall.

The Mafia Vampire's jaw clenched into a tight fist as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. The sight of her mocking tone made his blood boil with anger. How dare she talk to him like that?! His hand suddenly whipped out, his palm slapping across her face before gripping onto her chin tightly. He moved his head towards her neck, his eyes flickered red as his sharp fangs grew longer.

I stare at him as I feel my head ring a little but as a demon of the night it Just didn't feel more than a pinch on a chick

"you know..." i hold eye contact as the next words roll out from my mouth "Just admit it. you want me. like hell, i might even agree"

The woman's mocking tone was enough to send Jimin over the edge. He felt his teeth grind as his eyes flickered red with fury, the urge to bite into her neck and drink her blood overwhelming him. In a fit of rage, he attempted to lunge at her

As if already used to my sarcasm, it doesn't stop him as he's about to draw blood from my neck-

but before that happens i pull back just a little to bang my head on his nose with all my power, the moment he holds himself for conscious stability i kick on his groin, Twice.

I chuckle as i watch him fall down on his knees. I'll never understand how men can talk all big and bad but wont even survive a quick pull to their nuts? I mean as long as it favours me who am I to complain.

"Now now you poor thing..i get that I might smell sweet as honey given that a night demon has an addicting scent but that doesn't mean you lose your manners to ask nicely, hm?" I bend down to pat his head as if he's a dog

He clenched his teeth together tightly, gritting in pain as tears welled in his eyes. He glared at the demon pating him and growled deeply.

"You look mesmerizing with tears in your eyes, did you know that?" I look at him, amused by the demonic thoughts passing through my head

The woman's taunting tone made his blood boil with fury, his fangs grew longer as they threatened to break the skin of her neck. His piercing red eyes narrowed into thin slits as he looked at her menacingly, breathing heavily. His teeth ground together tightly as he clenched them and tried to control his murderous thoughts. His arm shot out, trying to grab her neck once again.

I roll my eyes at his pathetic try to grab my neck yet agaiN

I get back up on my feet as i watch him still recover from my previous stunt

" To think vampires might have a better healing process " i chuckle darkly as i stomp my high heel on the back of his palm which was still on the floor

The Vampire's eyes widened as the woman stomped on his hand, her heel piercing into his palm and causing a sudden sharp pain to shoot up his arm. Gritting his teeth as tears welled in his eyes, he quickly moved away from her foot. He rubbed his bleeding palm and looked at it with hatred, still not healing. He growled a deep throaty moan in anger, looking at her with rage in his eyes.

"You have some nerve to talk down on me y/n" He grabbed her arm tightly, his eyes flickering red with anger as he squeezed her arm painfully.

It's something about him with heavy tearful eyes that made the demon shift on her spot

I sigh "you're lucky I'm feeling generous today"

Using my other free hand to draw blood from the arm he grabbed, I placed it near his soft lips as he slowly gets back up on his feet

"Go ahead, have a drink."

Jimin looked at the woman, his eyes flickering red with hunger, his mouth watering as he stared at the blood before him. Taking in a deep breath to collect himself, he stared at the woman. He smirked, closing his eyes as he opened his mouth and lapped up the blood. The taste of blood mixed with the woman's sweet scent made his head spin, sending him into a dizzying daze, feeling almost drunk.

"Glad I'm enjoyable to you" I gulp as I hear him moan while still having that intense hold on my arm with his mouth still attached to my arm inching his way toward me.

The Vampire let out a deep moan of satisfaction as he drank from her, his grip loosening slightly as he looked at her lustfully. His eyes were filled with a lustful haze as he looked at her with a look of desire, his fangs dripping with her blood. His eyes flickered red with hunger as he lapped up the last of her blood, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He smirked at her, his eyes flickered dangerously as he licked his lips.

"Keep looking at me like that and i might start drawing every ounce of your blood until you're left dry "

I laugh at the thought because it's impossible, demons can only feed on souls and i intend to keep this one around

Jimin scowled at the woman, He didn't like being threatened. He stared at the woman, his piercing red eyes flickering dangerously as he grabbed her throat tightly with his other hand, squeezing hard enough to make her choke. "You don't talk to me like that y/n"

I start feeling my throat close up

even though I can't be killed it still sucked to have somboby choke the living hell out of you.

it's the helplessness that triggered my rage; as I let out my spell in a whisper

"diaphanoüs "

My pupils dilate pitch black as i watch his body turn transparent as I put my hand through his chest grabbing his heart strongly, only to show him what he's dealing with.

Pulling my hand out as i watch him fall back against the stairs, barely holding himself together against it as he turns pale but not enough to be declared dead

I Huff as the vampire makes no heavy attempt at fighting back

"come on i didn't actually pull your heart out, stand up straight already."

Jimin stared at the woman, glaring at her with piercing red eyes as she threatened to take his life. He could feel her grabbing onto his heart, but he was unable to move away. He stared at her in fear as she threatened to end his life. He didn't want her to take his life, not after everything he had worked for; all the people he had killed just to get where he was today. He looked at her, fear etched into his face as tears welled in his eyes. "I... I d-don't... w-want to die..."

I pause as my head snaps to look at him......was that him begging for mercy?

I let out a small laugh "when was the last time i heard you talk without growling after each word?"

I look back down at his wound where my hand went through a minute back which didn't look like it's gonna heal in this life time-

My panic sets in as i watch him breathing heavily

i look everywhere to find a solution- something, anything, until it clicked

Demon blood duh? what was i waiting for-

Before thinking twice I grab his mouth near my neck but halt when I watch him shake a little "Bite it before I change my mind "

" O-okay..." He whispered, his voice raspy, fear etched into his voice as he looked at her with pure sincerity. He obeyed, his body trembling as he leaned in, his fangs piercing her neck. He closed his eyes as the sweet taste of blood filled his mouth, the woman's aroma was intoxicating; the smell of sweet honey and flowers filled his nose. His eyes flickered red with lust as his heart beat faster every second he could feel his skin heal rapidly. This was by far the most pleasure he has ever felt in his long life.

I watch him grab me closer, surpassing a moan trying to bubble out of me

It all made sense, i could feel him release the aphrodisiac to cover up any feelings of pain

Being a half transitioned demon, I'd prefer calling me more as an fallen angel with a heart which only made things worse for me at the moment; as the blood in my heart passed the flow faster which means the vampire could drink more blood-

Hence the feeling of pleasure(sexual) heightened for the both of us

"Holy fuck..." i whimper, not worth holding in anymore

" Mmmm...you taste even better than i thought you would " He hummed in pleasure as he felt her warm blood filling his mouth, the taste was sweet, intoxicating, almost divine. He continued to drink, drinking her blood deeply as he pressed his body against her walking her back until they reached the wall, his breath ragged, his moans of pleasure filling the air around them. He tightened his grip on her, one behind her neck and the other on her waist, drinking greedily before suddenly stopping, his eyes flickered as he looked at her, his fangs dripping with her blood. " I-I have to stop..."

"Ah fuck, no don't stop... " i couldn't bring myself to open my eyes, too deep in the bliss

"..It won't kill m-me" i stutter the pleasure eating me alive-

Not to forget his double layered hard on which still manages to be seen; strongly pressed against my stomach, i slowly opened my eyes, desparate desire written all over my face

Jimin looked at y/n, his piercing eyes filled with dark desire as he stared at her. all his thoughts and worries melting away. He grinned, unable to control himself as he pressed his body against hers." You... taste... so... good..."

I exhale a shaky breath "Fucking hell, come here..."

Pulling him by his collar i smash my lips onto his, loving the way my blood lingers between our lips

The vampire gasped in surprise as the woman suddenly pressed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in her- chest to chest. He melted into her kiss, his body trembling with pleasure as he closed his eyes, his tongue entering her mouth. He moaned into her mouth, his fangs gently nipping her top lip before pulling away from her with a soft exhale. He looked at her, The sight of her body, her warm blood dripping between their lips sent him into a dizzying haze, his eyes flickered red with desire as he ran a hand through her hair.

i lick my lips before leaning in to whisper against his lips

"Hold tight.. jimin" i smirk as i watch him follow my lips leaning forward

His heart fluttered in his chest as she whispered against his lips. Her voice was like music, sending his heart into a flutter of desire. He was completely under her control, ready to give into her every command. He looked at her, his eyes glowing with pure desire as he leaned in, kissing her deeply as he let himself be taken by his feelings.

With a snap of my fingers we teleport to my penthouse and direct to its master bedroom, lavish yet cosy and consistently follow a modern brief.

Not even worth breaking the kiss, it only ends up getting more heated and sloppier every second

Jimin gasped as the pair suddenly teleported into the woman's penthouse. The extravagant surroundings startled him, taking him out of his dizzying haze for just a moment. He quickly shook it off, pushing her against the wall and pressing his body against hers. He continued to kiss her feverishly, his hands roaming around her body, his heart beating faster with every second. His lips were rough against hers, his teeth nipping at her neck and lips roughly. The sight of the woman drove all sanity from him, lust and desire taking over his thoughts and judgement. " I want you... " He breathed against her.

I couldn't help but moan- hearing his soft voice was rare, a melody

I bite my lips as his eyes pierce through mine " I'm losing my mind because of you, jimin "

"I need you too...so badly" i bite his bottom lip a little too hard, licking the little drop of blood after, every little reaction from him was heavenly

" Mmm..." He moaned as she bit his lip, his eyes flickered red with desire as he pressed his body against hers. Her words sent his heart fluttering as he leaned against her, his hand pressing against the wall behind them. His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding in his chest, his desire for her was overwhelming. He leaned against her, his body trembling with excitement as his lips hovered close to hers. " I don't want to let go of you angel "

"There's no reason to" i smirk before grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling it apart until it rips

But before he could react, i push him back hard until he ends up on the bed, bouncing up a little by the soft mattress

The Vampire's heart fluttered as she pushed him onto the bed, ripping his shirt in the process. His red gaze followed the woman, his lips trembling as he stared at her with desire. The sight of her ripping his shirt sent his blood boiling with desire, his fangs growing slowly, his eyes glowing red with passion. He sat up on his elbows, looking at her with desire in his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. " Tell me..... what do you desire?"

"Only you my king" my voice laced with heavy desire as I got between his legs, spreading them apart ever so slowly

Jimin's heart skipped a beat as she spoke in that dangerous tone. He stared at her, his heart beating fast in his chest as she got between his legs, looking up at her with desire in his eyes. He groaned, his mouth watering as he looked at her. In an instant he switched us, from her taking the lead to him on top of her

His hands roamed all over her as he found her sweet spot on her neck, sucking like there was no tomorrow

Hands pinning her down to the bed as she desperately tried to find something to hold on to, ending up with her hands buried in his soft, beautiful, dark locks, tugging it a little hard

"i swear I'm done with these fucking games, i want you right now" he practically growled. one minute exploring her mouth and the next sucking and biting her neck softly as her pulse pounding under her skin

"fucking hell, I wanna eat you alive" he moaned low and possesive as he kissed her deeply. His hand held her by the neck, his breath ragged and shallow as his other arm wrapped around her back, pulling her close to him. his heart pounding in his chest as he lost himself in the kiss. His hunger for her blood was overpowering him, his body trembled as he pressed his weight against her.

" You're mine..."

"All fucking yours...give me everything you have to offer jimin.." i breath unevenly as i watch him drag his hands all over me only to rip me out of my dress half way

" Are you sure about that?" He whispered, a playful smirk plastered on his face, his voice soft and soothing as he stared into her eyes. His hands trembling slightly, his eyes flickered red as he stared at her. His mouth salivating as he looked at her, his body trembling with desire. He was losing control, the hunger for her blood was overpowering him. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her neck, his tongue licking her neck slowly. His hands trembled as he ran a hand through her hair, his breaths ragged as he looked at her, his eyes glittering with desire. " I'll make you beg for mercy, I'll do things to you that most would consider inhumane. Are you sure you want that?" He whispered seductively, his eyes glowing red with desire.

I grin as i reply "we were never the ones to be mundane in the first place my love" i couldn't help it but move my hips, trying to grind against him just for a good friction, shamelessly.

" Mm.. someone's desperate" it was his turn to chuckle as he teased

Reaching down just to rip any of the remaining dress left on my body throwing them far back somewhere in the room, he wasted no time, practically tearing every material he found in his way until i was left in nothing but my panties under him, which again were quickly disposed of.

He trailed his lips back down her body and started to mark her taking nips and then baring his fangs and burying them into her; which released a moan from her.

"Please jimin..just.. please fuck me" i couldn't hold it, i needed him in me and great heavens, i don't know what it what that got me to act like this but i was too far gone to care

As he sneaked his fingers between my legs "my, i was thinking about warming you up with my fingers first but look at you go baby, all wet and dripping just for me? He raised both his brows as we made eye contact, only to place those soaked fingers ever so slowly between his lips, which had me groaning as I fell back down.

Pulling me back up just to make my back face him, he pushes my face down on the mattress which only had me spread my legs willingly as he chuckled " how obedient " removing his last piece of clothing as he placed his dick right before my entrance, stroking himself on me only turned me into a moaning mess

"yes FUCK YES give it to me jimin!" Arching my back into him to push my ass back just to feel him a little more

"well then take it" he growled as he buried himself in me in one go which made me scream his name

"forgive me baby but that was the way to get in you quickly" he made sure to shower my back with kisses

Making sure to use his other hand to place it on my clit, rubbing it in a amazing pase

"oh...oh my fucking....feels so good jimin" i whined as i sucked him in, no name of shame because of how badly i wanted this

"fuck! you take me so well beautiful" the praise only made me moan louder as he started picking up his pace into an animalist way.

Jimin's mind was flitting to how amazing it would be to bite her right now, and he did. Reaching down to bite my shoulder a little too deep, which only had me scream his name.

the room started to fill with loud moans and groans, his hands all in my hair, goosebumps with every little contact he makes with my body, he pulled me back up only to place one of his hands on my titts- playing with it while the other made its way to my to my clit from the front yet again. I gasp as my head falls back on his shoulder

"come on baby I need you to come with me, think you could wait for me, angel?" Not even a second to spare "YES..i-i can" i could barely think as he angled to hit something new, i couldn't let it out though waiting for him to reach his limit, I held it

His dark eye glowed red glaring down at her he saw hers dilate pitch black, she was in pure bliss and he was the one giving it all to her

"I'm so..s-so close" i couldn't help but moan his name like a chant, it was like a spell on me and I loved every second of it

"come for me my angel" he let his voice out in the most low and seductive way possible, it was dripping in lust and it only pushed me through my edge.

Coming on his dick but not completely as i whimper "come inside me jimin" no clue of what's left and what's right, as if on perfect cue, just as it was getting all too much, jimin let out a low moan with my name as he finally let it all in, biting my neck so strongly to feel just on cloud 9, he came a little too hard as i came with him. Slowly his hips drew to stop and both of us finally began to compute with what just happened, not being able to keep it together I fell ahead but Jimin caught me in his arms before i could collapse completely

"that was the best thing that has happened to me in a while" he said matter-of-factly, holding me as he lay down next to me, facing each other i pushed my lips on his as he instantly grabbed my face to depend on the kiss

"promise me that will happen again" i look back at him as we pull away only to see pull up his annoying smirk

"who said we are stopping now?" He tucked my hair behind my ear and he continued "I've been waiting a long time to get you for myself and nothing's stopping me from having you in every way I can angel"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: damn that was like long long ( at least for me ) my first proper smut huh, how did it do for ya? Even tho I rushed the ending 🏄🏽Lemme know your thoughts, beautiful 💓

#jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts dark fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin #jiminvampire #dark jimin #bts x reader #yandere!bts #yandere bts #park jimim

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chazz-is-a-zelda-fan · 7 months

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my unhinged rant about how Save Me by Muse is the perfect silver & dad!lance song

okay hi lemme preface with i haven’t played any of the johto games so, all of this is 2nd hand knowledge + headcanons so feel free to correct me!! my evidence will be taken almost entirely from pokemas lol

!! this is abt game silver and not the pokespe iteration !!

also for my sake i will be referring to silver with she/her pronouns bc it genuinely feels wrong for me to refer to her by anything else. you can criticize any other part of this mini-analysis/rant but if you criticize a headcanon i hold very, very dear to me i will not hesitate to block you :>

okay right off the bat “save me from my superstitions, now i’m free from this old condition” is 100% about silver’s abandonment issues. my poor girl she’s been through so much

“hold me cause i’m sure i’m hated, promises they are overrated” do i even have to say it. it’s explicitly stated in pokemas that she sees herself as an inherently bad person due to her heritage and her previous actions (stealing + mistreating her pokémon). as such, she doesn’t trust ANYONE, including her closest friends, as she worries they’re going to leave if they find the ‘real’ her (the one who is supposedly malicious and cruel and just like her father).

(the scene when lance is trying to convince her to go find ho-oh with the MC + the gang / johto villain arc when she’s asked to not face giovanni alone). the analysis writes itself.

“wait just a while, while i’m drowning in denial”. i really love this lyric in relation to silver and her father - just a quiet ‘wait’. she’s getting there. she’s not a good person yet, she’s trying so hard, she’s not there yet. she doesn’t know if she CAN be a good person, hence drowning in denial. but once again it’s lance that picks up his daughter and says that she’s drowning in DENIAL; silver is a good person, she’s just having a hard time seeing it.

(a day with SS silver if i remember right, discussing the actions of team rocket back in johto and how she sees herself in relation to those actions / once again, lance convincing silver that she should go to find ho-oh)

“watch me, cause i’m on a mission”do i even have to say anything??? team rocket radio tower. lance’s original dialogue in GSC about being worried for silver. her never-ending quest to be the strongest also factors in here.

(johto arc again, saying how she’s going to take on team rocket alone, much to the dismay of the johtrio)

“hold me back, so i’m forced to listen” can be taken a few different ways. i like to see it as she needs to be held back by her friends/family from throwing herself headfirst into both team rocket headquarters and self-doubt spirals. we know she has a vitriol for TR, so i 100% see her trying to enact her own justice by taking them down on her own (much like her pokespe counterpart). HOWEVER i do think it can be taken more metaphorically, with her having to be forced to listen to the facts; people love her and she’s not going to be abandoned for perceived weakness.

(lance convincing silver / johto arc / i forgot where this was whoops 💀 i think it’s paulo related, anyways she lost to lance and he said “great battle! you almost had us.” she responds with this, which highlights what she needs to be held back from: her self-deprecation when she’s a formidable trainer in her own right.)

“don’t let me go, ‘cause i’m nothing without you” does NOT feel like a silver line in the slightest lmao. she’s proven herself to be very independent. however i do think you can read this as her taking to her pokémon here. even with her threats of leaving them behind, she never does. her SS story is explicit in stating that she is developing herself for the sake of her pokémon.

(a day with SS silver)

ITS CHORUS TIME BABY!!!!

“turn me into someone like you” just SCREAMS silver and lance. sure, she hates him initially, but it’s ultimately out of envy. how is HE so powerful? how is HE able to talk to her about strength when HE doesn’t know half of the things she’s done to survive? doesn’t know the lingering, taunting pain that is being beaten at every turn and still refusing to make the same mistakes your father did by never abandoning a pokémon? sure, she parrots it a lot, but when does silver’s team change? when do we ever see her straight-up abandon a pokémon? she desperately craves his strength, yes, but in the end what she also really wants to be is a trainer people can be proud of. she wants to stop hiding in her hole of self-loathing and worries that she’ll only be a repeat of giovanni and just wants to have a legacy she can be proud of. (does anyone have that line of lance saying the cape is almost like a dragon master uniform? cus that’s what i mean to put here.) she wants a background she can be part of, something to embrace, not to be ashamed of.

admittedly, “find a place that we can go to, run away and take me with you” are less strong when it comes to silver herself. she very much does NOT want to run away, she knows the pain of abandonment all too well. i do think, though, that she would want pure privacy in moments of vulnerability, so when saying something along the lines of the previous lyric (‘turn me into someone like you’) and explaining the reasoning behind her actions (it’s trauma), she’d much rather do it with nobody else around. we all know how she feels about weakness, after all.

(chase the northern wind (eusine + shiny suicune event), her reminiscing on how she used to see jasmine + her ampharos /

a day with silver and ho-oh(?), talking about how much she can still grow)

“don’t let go, i need your rescue” is just. can we please appreciate how good this song is? okay cool, back to business. this is definitely a post-arc silver, where she’s less afraid to express her need for safety. even without her arc, it’s once again a callback to one of her most traumatizing moments: being left by giovanni. she’s never really gotten over that fear of being left behind, and all she really is, is a scared little girl desperately calling out to her father. she’s terrified. but to be terrified is to be weak and weakness will get you left behind, so she covers it up with a rude exterior. finally letting those walls down is her ultimate show of strength, revealing how clingy she can be just to feel safe and reassured. and to share that with her father, to have lance be the dad she always needed, it just warms my heart :)

YOU MADE IT TO THE END!!! CONGRATS!!! :D k hope this was an accurate analysis and you guys enjoyed :>

#long post #character analysis #save me #rival silver #trainer silver #champion lance #okay i got the alt text #if anyone has recommendations for an alternate way to write the alt text please let me know!!#muse band #the 2nd law #transfem hc #transgirl silver is real and you are all cowards for not seeing it (JOKING)

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just-horrible-things · 9 months

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‘Verse: Resistance AU: Chewtoy Timeline: Canada

Safe // Unsafe [Next]

The slightest thing makes her flinch. The sound of a mug being put down slightly carelessly. The sound of the door. Connor walking into the room. Connor getting annoyed on the phone. Connor moving too suddenly, or getting too close.

It’s like the escape never happened, and she’s still waiting for her alarm to wake her. Or for Riven to walk in the front door with cuffs for her swinging cheerily from his fingers.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many people tell her she’s safe, or how much power they have to protect her – because they do. There’s no reason, not really, to doubt. She got out of the country. Connor got her out. She has the protection of a foreign government here.

That’s the win condition, isn’t it?

It doesn’t seem to matter how long she spends reading up on all the protections asylum seekers get here, or all the ways Canada refuses to cooperate with the United States. It doesn’t matter how good the new locks are that Connor had fitted on all the doors and windows.

It’s like she doesn’t remember how to be safe.

She’s scared she never will.

And Connor – Connor seems to take it as a personal insult, like she’s doing it on purpose just to get on his nerves.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he says. And, “How can you still think I’m going to hurt you? Haven’t I proved that I’m not going to do that?” Haven’t I sacrificed enough? He doesn’t say that, but she hears it anyway. I ruined my life for you, don’t I deserve a little gratitude?

“I’m sorry,” she says, because just like she can’t stop herself from flinching, she can’t stop the apologies from slipping out before she even realises they’re on her lips.

And Connor knows it’s just another kind of flinch, and the disappointment in his eyes is crushing every time, and she is sorry for making him feel that way but she’s said the words too many times and they don’t mean anything anymore.

“How do I make you feel safe?” he asks, sometimes almost pleading. And she has no answer for him because he’s right, she should already feel safe, he’s done more than enough.

She is grateful, she’s so grateful. She can’t even wrap her head around what he’s done for her, it’s overwhelming.

She wonders if he regrets it yet.

Whatever he was imagining, this doesn’t seem to be it.

Probably he thought he’d get his friend back.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that that person – that naïve, reckless, thoughtless, trusting, bright-eyed young idiot – is never coming back.

She doesn’t know how to come to terms with it herself.

She could swear she was better than this, even a couple of months ago still under Riven’s heel. She was stronger than this. She got her work done, even though it was far too much. She got up in the morning, every morning, without fail, and she put up with the pain and the exhaustion, and yes, she flinched easily but even that she doesn’t think was as bad as it is now.

Shouldn’t it be better? Not worse. She’s safe. She’s in less pain than she’s been in god knows how long. She can sleep as much as she likes. Things should be easier – but instead she’s falling apart. She can’t seem to do the simplest things right, like she doesn’t even remember how to take care of herself.

It’s terrifying.

Maybe those last few awful weeks broke something inside her, something that had somehow held just barely through the years of abuse but finally gave way right at the end. Maybe rescue came just a little too late.

Or maybe Riven was right. Maybe she needs to be controlled, maybe that always has been her problem. Maybe she only functions if someone forces her.

Maybe it would be easier if Connor stopped pitying her. She doesn’t know what to do with pity. If he just told her to pull herself the fuck together and start pulling her own weight, maybe she could do it.

God knows she isn’t any use as she is now.

Connor’s doing everything, spending all the hours on the phone with lawyers and banks and officials and who knows what else. Connor books her medical check-ups, Connor brings home the food, Connor’s found a job to support her and she just lies around at home too afraid to leave her room in a completely safe, locked house with no one else inside it.

She’s not surprised he’s getting sick of her already. She doesn’t blame him.

The thoughts spiral around and around and around and she lies in bed staring at the ceiling until the guilt finally grows large enough to eclipse the – the whatever-it-is that seems to glue her in place. And then she gets up and vacuums, or cleans the bathroom, or whatever.

One thing she can do is keep the place clean. She can manage that much.

And – sometimes when she’s washing dishes or folding laundry – sometimes it doesn’t feel so bad.

These are simple, normal tasks. She’s barely done most of them in years – scrubbing blood out of concrete isn’t quite the same – but her hands still remember what to do.

Sometimes there’s a quiet satisfaction in it. Making the space neat and clean and pleasant. For Connor, but also for herself.

But then other times it just doesn’t hit right, and then she gets angry at herself for failing to find that hoped-for peace, and angry at herself for resenting doing something as small as housework when Connor’s doing everything for her, and she ends up bitterly scrubbing plates far too hard until the rough side of the sponge rubs her knuckles raw.

Sometimes she breaks one, just because she can. Just because she’s angry and it feels good to break something for no other reason than she wants to.

If Connor notices the pieces in the trash, she’ll tell him it was an accident. He’ll believe her. Her hands shake pretty badly sometimes and it makes her clumsy.

The catharsis lasts only until Connor gets home already radiating irritation, and the tension instantly has Ari on edge. Something about the bank being unhelpful – which logically has nothing to do with Ari, but suddenly anything she does could piss him off. Suddenly she is acutely aware of how much patience it must take to live with her, and deeply reluctant to draw any attention to herself until he’s in a better mood.

She remembers the shards of broken plate in the trash with guilt and dread. Suddenly she’s not so sure he’ll believe it was an accident.

Connor goes straight to his room to change his clothes, and – like a guilty child trying to hide the evidence of her crimes – Ariadne goes to the kitchen to get rid of the trash before he has a chance to notice.

It’s stupid. She knows even as she’s tying off the top of the bag that it’s stupid. Why would Connor be looking that closely at the trash? Why is she fucking scared? It’s one plate, what does she think he’s going to do?

Even if he hit her – which he won’t, she’s pretty sure – all it would do is maybe knock some sense into her.

The shards of plate clink – distinctively ceramic – as she lifts the bag. She winces. She looks over her shoulder. Connor’s not even there. She’ll just – get it outside. It needs taking out anyway. There’s nothing strange about what she’s doing.

Her palms are sweating like she’s trying to sneak past Riven with a beating at stake. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. She’s safe. She’s not sure if she’s more worried over the plate, or about getting caught acting so furtive for no damn reason.

She’s reaching for the front door when Connor’s door reopens.

She’s not sure what happens in her brain. Something short-circuits. A flash of panic – just momentary but searingly intense – and she doesn’t feel her knees hit the floor but she feels the familiar sharp ache that follows.

And Connor is staring at her.

“Jesus Christ Ariadne,” he says. “Get up.”

The flood of shame drives all other feelings right out of her head. Her face burns. She can feel the blood pulsing in her skin, like it’s trying to force its way out through her pores with every beat of her pounding heart.

She’s not sure she’s ever gotten up off the floor faster, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t take it back, and Connor’s looking at her like he isn’t sure if he’s upset or disgusted, and Ari wants to curl up and die.

“I am not Riven.” The sharpness in his voice puts her hackles up, adds anger to the sick muddle of fear and self-disgust and humiliation. “I’m sorry,” she says and it comes out bitter and sharp-edged – the kind of tone that would get her slapped if he was Riven. “What am I doing,” he demands, “to seem like him?”

She has no answer because there is no answer.

She can’t do this, she can’t be in the room with him, she’s going to scream at him or cry or wind up back on her knees.

She grabs her trash bag by the tied top – not caring at all any more about the clink of the ceramics. She wrenches the front door open, practically throws herself through, and slams it harder than she has to behind herself.

She doesn’t know where she’s going. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if he follows her.

But he doesn’t follow her.

She takes the trash out to the curb, and drops it into the can without ceremony. She doesn’t kick it only because she doesn’t want to look like a crazy person in the street.

What now?

She can’t face Connor yet. She doesn’t know how to talk to him. She just… she just needs to breathe. She’ll just find somewhere to sit down, and breathe.

She doesn’t know how to do this.

She doesn’t even know what “this” is. Everything. Nothing.

Shhh, she tells herself. Just breathe. Just – one step at a time. Just gotta – ride it out until she can figure out what she’s gonna do when she goes back inside.

It shouldn’t be hard.

It is.

[Next]

#my writing #verse: resistance #au: chewtoy #chewtoy!ariadne #connor thompson #neither of these people know the first thing about trauma #they are struggling

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darklove9314-blog · 1 year

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Oh anti-Rhys and prompt I love it!!

Prompt: Rhys complaining about Nesta but then Lucien is like no sir. Could we get some Lucien calling out Rhys for the things he did UTM. like tearing off that faeries wings. You think for someone who has wings he would understand his actions more! And his treatment of feyre twisting her bone and drugging her.

Lucien had never been good at keeping his mouth shut as he made his way into Rhys’s study the High Lord of Night Court pouring over several text as Lucien took a seat at the front of Rhys’s desk making Rhys slam the book so fast that it almost startled him.

“Vanserra, what brings you here?” He asked as Lucien sighed in annoyance.

“You’re weekly progress report on Archeron, even though I don’t know why you need it if you trust your general so much.” Lucien replied earning a look from Rhys.

“Cassian has-a soft spot for Nesta, I can’t always trust him to tell me the truth.” He admitted making Lucien’s gaze shift to him in response.

“She’s his mate, I would be surprised if he didn’t have a soft spot for the viper.” Lucien replied as Rhys’s eyes widened in shock.

“How did you-” Rhys started, but Lucien cut him off,

“Everyone within a ten mile radius of them could tell, so don’t act so shocked that I could tell. I do have my own mate after all.”

No matter how much his mate didn’t want him in his life, it was obvious the moment he was around those two that they had a much deeper connection then the others, one more powerful than Lucien had ever saw, but that wasn’t why he had come to Rhysand today.

“It still doesn’t answer my question why you need to keep tabs on her.”

“Let’s just say she’s on a probation of sorts, one false move, one hair out of line and I’ll make sure she’s sent to where she belongs, whether Feyre agrees to it or not.”

Lucien wasn’t sure why he did it, Nesta Archeron was a viper after all, but to hear someone like Rhysand speak about her like this, it really rubbed him in the worst way, no matter how horrible she may have acted, Lucien was tired of Rhysand’s holier than thou attitude when his own nose hadn’t been the cleanest.

“Do you really think you of all people should be making that choice?” Lucien inquired making Rhys eyes gutter. Lucien fought the urge to roll his own as he leaned forward not giving Rhys the chance to answer him,

“You of all people should not be talking shit about horrible behavior that hurts and affects others when your own nose isn’t clean, Feyre may have forgiven you for what happened and that was her choice to do so, but some of us can’t forget the role you played, the hurt you caused. You may have been doing it to survive, but in the end you still ended up hurting others. Sound familiar?”

“I did what I had to do.” Rhys tried to argue but Lucien was tired of the excuses,

“That doesn’t mean that your choices didn’t come with consequences, especially when it came to Feyre.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me about my Mate.” He growled out as Lucien jutted his chin out, not backing down in the slightest.

“Why? Because if I keep talking about it that means you can’t outright ignore it? Do you even know how she looked after you drugged her and forced her to do things she would have never agreed to sober? No, of course you don’t, because you left her in those God forsaken rags in her cell until I went to check on her and had to hand her my coat. She felt violated by what you did to her Rhys, and yet you still think you can say that you’re better than those have hurt her. How is that possible?”

“If you’re trying to defend Tamlin in the same breath-”

“I’m not, but I find it hypocritical that you hate Tamlin so much when you two are a reflection of each other.”

“I have done nothing to Feyre that equates to anything Tamlin hasn’t done to her.” Rhys argued as Lucien rose a brow.

“You forced her to drink that fae wine and dance on you provocatively you twisted a bone in her arm to get her to agree to your arrangement, and you left her in a cell afterwards, not to mention forcing a kiss on her and breaking into her mind to make her feel sheer terror so Tamlin would have to beg you to let her go. You act surprised that people don’t trust you, and yet you gave us nothing to trust. I’m not saying that Feyre didn’t want to be with you, because we now know that she did, but can you really blame us for not trusting you when we saw what you did, when part of the reason Feyre had nightmares was because of you.”

“You ignored her nightmares.” Rhys growled out as Lucien narrowed his eyes slightly,

“Because we were also living in one. We also went under the mountain Rhys, We also endured countless nightmares because of Amarantha, and we had to go back to a court which also suffered. You didn’t have to come back to that, or at least you didn’t when it came to Velaris.”

“It doesn’t mean that I also didn’t have my demons to face Lucien. I gave you time to help Feyre and you two never did.”

“Then I guess we both made our mistakes, but my point still stands after everything you’ve done, after all the bridges you burned, and the people you hurt , you have no right to pass judgement on to Nesta. You are partially the reason she got dragged into this world, We all played a part in that. I;m not saying that Nesta Archeron is a saint, but you are not the best at understanding people who are having hard times.”

“What she did-”

“She was a child when the things with her and Feyre occurred, I have heard the stories' of you and your circle Rhys, all of you haven’t had the best reaction to things either, but that’s nature. But just because it’s in our nature to act a certain way doesn’t mean we can’t change with time. She’s lost everything because of the war you dragged her into, the least you could do is be more understanding.”

Rhys’s jaw clenched,

“I didn’t do those things to her.”

“I’m not saying you’re the reason overall, but when we stand up to those to that wish to harm us, sometimes those who are innocent in the matter ends up getting hurt. And whether you want to admit it or not, Nesta was one of those people.”

Rhys glanced away, turning his back to Lucien, not outright kicking him out, but dismissing him overall. Lucien clenched his jaw slightly, getting out of the chair as he made his way to the door,

“She’s healing in her own way, but she will never heal in the way she needs to if you have a time limit and consequences hanging over her head. I’m not saying you have to like her, or even care for her, but for Feyre, Elain, and Cassian’s sake, at least do them a favor and try.”

And with that Lucien left the High Lord of the Night to contemplate what he would do next.

#anti rhys #anti rhysand #anon ask

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anghraine · 1 year

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My f!Aragorn/f!Faramir AU is fun (for me) because it's actually an "every Númenórean throwback in LOTR, determined according to me, is genderbent."

So there's f!Aragorn, Aranor, whose existence breaks the father-to-son chain of heirs of Isildur carried on for thousands of years, but who manages to hang onto the heirship by fiat of Elrond and her own resolute will and immense abilities. She proceeds to fight canon Aragorn's uphill battle, but it's harder at virtually every turn. She passes herself off as a man as "Thorongil" but her gender and identity are recognized by—

—Andreth, the Steward's daughter/f!Denethor. Her only brother died young, while her older sisters are both childless and unwilling to return to Minas Tirith. Andreth, trained in both lore and, unusually, war, has recently waged a bitter if victorious political fight to be acknowledged as Ecthelion's heir, rather than at best a potential regent for her son Boromir. She knows all about fighting uphill battles. Despite her intense dislike of Aranor, Andreth's fight for the Stewardship plays a major part in paving the way for Aranor's eventual ascension as Gondor's first ruling queen.

In all of this, Andreth was backed by her ailing husband, Gwindor of Dol Amroth (m!Finduilas), and his powerful family. This included his gay older brother Túrin (m!Ivriniel) and his younger sister Imraphel (f!Imrahil). Imraphel in particular respected Andreth without feeling the need to like her, all the more after her own fight to get taken seriously as a (hulking) lady knight in Dol Amroth. Imprahel has unhesitatingly presented herself as another Haleth, replicating popular Gondorian imagery of Haleth and proving herself a fierce and dauntless warrior and captain.

Speaking of Haleth, Aranor doesn't have a picked bodyguard of women as Haleth herself did—I don't assume all the northern Dúnedain are throwbacks in the Aragorn-Denethor-Imrahil sense—but she does have a beloved cousin named Haleth (f!Halbarad), whom she trusts implicitly. This Haleth has been attached to Aranor from early in Aranor's active chieftainship, and faithfully joins her with some 30 other Dúnedain, but dies heroically on the Pelennor :(

One major figure is completely absent on the Pelennor, though, both in the lead-up to the major battle, and the battle itself. Míriel, daughter of Andreth, and now her only surviving child, has never had the slightest inclination towards war, though she understands its necessity. She has the iron will of her mother and aunt, along with a distinct strain of her father's gentleness, and like all of them, she can convince men and beasts alike to follow her commands. But she follows Andreth's lead as loremaster rather than warrior, making for a stern, commanding, yet personable Númenórean lady when called upon to convey her mother's will.

Andreth evacuates Míriel with the other women of Minas Tirith, placing her in charge of all the evacuees and warning her of the terrible duty that will fall to her should the battle go ill. They've often been at odds, but not this time; Míriel promises to protect their people as far as her abilities extend if the Stewardship should fall to her.

As it happens, Míriel does receive the news after the battle that her mother, after many years away from warfare, rode out to hold the city's troops together against the Nazgûl long enough for them to retreat into the city. The maneuver succeeded in inflicting heavy casualties, but Andreth died of her wounds not long thereafter. Míriel is now the ruling Lady of Gondor—but not for long. The heir of Isildur has come to claim the throne.

#someday i'll make progress on this!#...someday.#anghraine babbles #fic talk #fic talk: aranor #legendarium blogging #genderbending #long post #my interpretation is that male denethor + female faramir get on way better than in canon #because denethor does not expect fíriel to be a warrior or captain of course and she's a fine loremaster with leadership abilities #even if they clash at times #but female denethor + female faramir are basically canon bc andreth is frustrated by míriel not doing what she did #meanwhile aranor is still difficult in the way that canon aragorn is difficult but also greying hardcore warrior lady aragorn? hella.

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tabl3 · 1 year

Text

A guide to the villains:

to make it a bit easier to understand the dynamics in my writings, both in power and personal

Lab Rats Villains: Giselle and Krane might be the most officially allied, but neither trusts the other in the slightest. Both have contingency plans for the other and are plotting downfalls, should the slightest sign of betrayal come about. Their partnership is of convenience, not trust. Also, Sebastian and Marcus hate each other lmao. They only put up w the other because of their fierce loyalty to their proverbial creators. Giselle eventually discovered Bridget Hunslet's identity. Mr. Terror was both amused and impressed by their little group, and extended her invitation

Rodissius: He rules his home with an iron fist. Mr. Terror saw the rage within him at the loss of his powers and hatred of both supers and normos, and invited him and his children to join her cause

Mr. Terror: Every last one of the above mentioned are completely terrified of her (pun intended) She has both Experion and Scarlet's loyalty (will be elaborated on in the future) which definitely adds to the fear factor. Except she's totally in Mighty Max. Yup.

Least to Most Powerful:

Rodissius: He's got a physically strong stature in my design and is definitely skilled from his hero days. The chokehold he has on his veritable army is formidable. But at the end of the day, he's a regular normo now (and weakening with each passing day (will be elaborated on later #2))

Giselle: She's a super genius, manipulative, calculating, and highly skilled in combat, given she held her own against Bree. That and she has a torrent of androids at her disposal and Marcus's unflinching loyalty. However, she is simply a normo as well, and despite her brain being dangerous as it is, when it comes to most of the others, she wouldn't be able to dent much.

Sebastian: Giselle granted him new bionics. He has his soldier training and is obviously very skilled, but he wouldn't hold a candle to the next listed.

Shapeshifters: Wide range of powers, incredible skill because of training since birth for one purpose, and there are thirteen of them. The black swarm ability is also pretty op, on top of all the other assets. The main thing to hold them back more than anything is their loyalty to Rodissius and fear of his retribution toward them.

Marcus: He has all of ABC's bionics and then some. Not to mention as an android, he tires far slower and is largely unaffected by any injury. The problem with him mirrors the shifters'. He's blindly loyal to a woman who doesn't genuinely care for him (my Giselle is a sociopath with a sprinkle of psychosis). He definitely couldn't take all thirteen shifters, not when a five-person team, two bionic, two heroes powered by the arcturion, and a Calderan couldn't. But he would probably manage to defeat one or two at a time. Same with Sebastian, depending on which shifter. A lot of the younger ones they could take down. Roman, Riker, and the Spider-Legs girl (2nd oldest) they couldn't beat, most likely. Reese and another yet to be revealed are the only exception to younger shifters that could take them.

Krane: He's hard to place. I could easily switch him with the next listed. Powerhouse is the only descriptor. He's probably the most formidable in the Lab Rats show. I think he could take half the shifters at a time with relative ease, despite the setbacks from his injuries. He stands way above Marcus and Sebastian as well.

Scarlet and Experion: Calderans are op. That's it lol. I can't decide which among them is more powerful. Scarlet stayed on her warrior-gladiator world and gained experience that way (she has a much different backstory bc the EF one sucks. Also I wanted to give Sky a personal rival bc Experion is shared between her and Kaz) but Experion has hero experience. Both are master manipulators, and fully powered, unlike Skylar. I don't know if Krane could take two Calderan soldiers.

Mr. Terror: Girlboss Extrodinare. She's rich, has an empire, and hundreds of lackeys beneath her. Not to mention full loyalty of two Calderans. Even without all of that, she could most definitely defeat any before. And they know it. She has a quiet power over the rest in their partnership, and all of them fear her greatly. She's highly intelligent and motivated, a scary combination. The unspoken leader: whatever she orders goes. The only one ballsy enough to make a contingency plan for her is Giselle, and she hasn't found anything to be of possible use. Bridget has her own plans for each of them, and every move she makes has extreme intention (peep the chessboard. Not just symbolic)

anywhoozle, there ya go :)

#lab rats #mighty med #lab rats elite force #lref #villains #giselle vickers #victor krane #marcus davenport #sebastian lr #rodissius #roman #riker #reese #shapeshifters #scarlet lref #experion #mr. terror

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