#4words

[turkeybaconsauce]

#threeps #three initials #4words

[youngcreatorfanbear]

#4words #crusty #musty #dusty #rusty #8words #wefck #drake #itsablur

[1shimaru]

THEY WERENT ON HOLD 💀💀💀💀

#talking #4word horror storie 💔💔💔

[foxcantswim]

Who Are You? Chapter 3 || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Thank you so much for the love and feedback, you lot are making me blush- (Keep smashing and destroying everything, I encourage you)

Y/N is in love with Wanda... But Wanda is in love with Spider Noir. The thing is, Y/N and Spider Noir are the same person - But Wanda doesn't know that. Y/N has a secret identity to uphold. (Everyone lives AU - Set after DS:MoM)

F!Spider!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

CHAPTER 4

Words: 2.8k

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Chaotic Yelena Belova, Wanda is a pouty witchy, SIGNATURE WANDA HEAD-TILT

"That all you got, witchy?" you teased her, "I can take a hit, you know?"

You and Wanda had been 'fighting' on a field behind the compound. Despite Wanda telling you that she wouldn't hold back, you could tell that she definitely was.

Wanda's eyes glowed a bright red as she flashed a smirk, "We're just getting started," she winked before ascending upwards. A shiver ran up your spine at her response, you barely even realised that she was currently throwing a bolt of red magic towards you.

The two of you were testing reflexes today, it was obvious that you would most likely have the better reflexes due to spider sense. But, Wanda still wanted to put that up to the test. She wanted to make sure that you would be one hundred percent ready for anything that happened to come your way out on each and every mission.

As time went on, you were getting a lot better at reacting to her moves and attacks. The pair of you were making jokes and quips here and there, Wanda soon let out a laugh which effectively distracted you. You just couldn't stop yourself from staring, completely in awe. You let out a groan as you took the full force of her magic, "Damn, Wands..." you let out a laugh but quickly keeled over in pain.

Wanda's panic started to rise, "No no no no-" she muttered as she descended down towards you, "I'm sorry, I-"

"Relax, little witch," you gave her a thumbs up as you stood, "I told you not to hold back. I'm fine, see?" you raised your arms slightly as you turned around in a circle, "Not a scratch," you physically ached all over, but you knew that your advanced healing abilities would soon kick in.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Wanda nodded, "Okay... I just... I'm trying to stop myself from hurting people. After what happened..." she trailed off.

"I understand," you assured as you placed a hand on her shoulder, "I'm not gonna blame you for 'hurting me' when I've asked you to train. We can stop if you'd like? Pick this up some other time?"

"If you don't mind," she looked away from you.

You dared to move your hand from her shoulder to her cheek to turn her gaze back towards you, "All good, witchy. We'll do this again same time next week if you're up for it by then?"

Gulping, Wanda nodded slightly. She wished that it was actually your hand against her cheek instead of the material of the suit you wore, "I'll let you know. Thank you." She also wished that she could look into your real eyes at this moment.

You couldn't stop yourself from rubbing her cheek slightly with your thumb, the suit you wore managed to give you the extra confidence to do things like this here and there. It wasn't the first time you and Wanda had been alone together in a quiet moment like this.

"Ready to go back in?" you asked, "We could-"

"Are you ever going to tell me who you are?" Wanda suddenly cut you off, sounding just a little desperate.

In response, you quickly dropped your hand and took a step back, "I..." you turned your head, trying your best to focus on anything but her, "M-Maybe? I don't-" You had actually intended to tell the Avengers who you were a couple weeks ago... The only thing holding you back was Wanda.

Wanda had quickly become one of your closest friends within the Avengers and you really didn't want to lose that. You didn't want to lose the potential chance of actually being with Wanda in the future... That was what you were working towards in the first place. Your feelings for Wanda had grown a lot more quickly than you had expected. What if she hated who you were underneath the mask? What if she realised how weak and vulnerable you were without the suit? Your fears were too great to ignore.

"You don't trust me?" Wanda's voice was quiet, but you could hear the slight anger lacing her words - her glowing red eyes locked onto the ground. A pout found its way onto her face.

"It's got nothing to do with trust, Wanda!" you tried to reassure her, "I'm just..."

She looked up at you with a sad expression, her eyes still red, "You won't ever tell me, will you?" she did that signature head-tilt... the one you knew she did when she was indeed angry.

"I never said that," you sighed, "I just need time, Wanda. Please?" You were still working on trying to become friends with Wanda as your civilian self, it was proving to be quite a challenge.

"Sure, Noir," she grumbled before turning towards the compound, "I'll catch you later, okay?" she said, your heart clenched at the sight of her frown as she walked away.

"Wanda..." you sighed, the woman didn't turn around at your words. An irritated sigh escaped you as you whispered to yourself, "Nice going, Y/N..." you scolded yourself.

"I see you've finished up quickly?"

"Yeah," you smiled, "Tony didn't give me as much paperwork as usual today. I'm starting to think he likes me," your smile turned into a smirk.

Natasha had checked in on you from time to time when Clint wasn't available, it was nice to have a fresh face to talk to. Even a couple of the other Avengers had popped in to say hi here and there. You were glad the Avengers were starting to welcome you more as you had recently decided that it might be best to actually get to know everyone else and not just Wanda... Anything to get your mind off that woman.

Walking by you to grab a drink from the fridge, Natasha smiled back, "I knew Tony would go soft on you. You're our head tech girl after all."

"H-Head?" you stuttered, almost choking on your drink.

"Tony didn't tell you? Him and Steve decided to make you the manager of everything tech-related here. Which also means a higher pay," she winked at you before slamming the fridge door shut.

"Wow..." you whispered, "I will try my best not to let you guys down."

"You've done great so far, don't be too hard on yourself," she nudged your shoulder, "We've known about so many more threats because of you. So don't worry."

"Thanks," you said, a slight blush on your cheeks.

"No prob-"

"KATE BISHOP!" a very angry sounding voice could be heard from the hall.

"Great..." you heard Natasha sigh before she quickly downed her drink in one, "They're here way too early for my liking," a frown appeared on her face.

You raised an eyebrow, "If you don't mind me asking. Who?"

"Yelena. My sister. And Kate. Her... Friend? I don't really know where those two stand," she replied. She couldn't stop the smile from appearing as her sister showed her face from around the corner.

"You have a sister?" you muttered as a blonde woman walked in.

"Yelena," Natasha sighed before bringing her sister into a hug, "Why are you and Kate fighting? Again?"

Yelena simply groaned as she pulled away, "She is so infuriating! She thought it would be best if I was her test subject for some of those 'trick arrows' Barton gave her."

You couldn't help but laugh, you had seen what some of those trick arrows could do out on the field.

"And who do we have here?" the blonde approached.

"Leave her alone," Natasha warned.

Yelena rolled her eyes, "I'm simply interested!"

"Er... Y-Y/N, Miss... Romanoff?" you gulped as she eyed you up and down.

"Yelena Belova," she corrected, "And please. What is with the 'Miss'?" she gripped your hand tight before shaking it, she soon pulled you into an unexpected hug, "Pleasure to meet you."

Well... Getting to know everyone else was going surprisingly well.

Her teeth clenched hard. Her eyes were glowing red.

Wanda had been sitting at a table on the far side of the break room watching everyone around her. The thought of you not revealing your identity was sending her into a spiral. Deep down she knew that it wasn't a trust issue... But there was still a nagging feeling in the back of her head saying otherwise.

She would be lying if she said she hadn't tried to read your mind every time you trained together. But it was proving to be extremely difficult, and Wanda was unsure as to why.

"KATE BISHOP!"

An angry voice made her look towards the doorway on the other side of the room, a blonde woman soon came rushing in.

Ah. Yelena. Wanda had met her once before.

She watched as you were crushed by the blonde in a hug with Natasha laughing nearby. Wanda had spoken to you countless times about tech-related stuff, things that she didn't really understand. But she was learning. She had also praised you for helping the Avengers by alerting them regarding certain threats across the city. You were becoming a good asset to the tech team, that's for sure.

"Everything okay over here, wi-?" Witchy. You cleared your throat, quickly stopping yourself from spitting out the nickname, "Miss Maximoff?"

Wanda was too busy deep in her thoughts to even notice you approach, she shook her head before looking at you, "O-Oh? Er... Yes. And for the last time. Call me-"

"Wanda," you rolled your eyes with a smirk. You decided not to comment on her eyes once they finally returned to their normal color.

She simply smiled in response, "I'm sorry if I missed anything, I was just deep in thought. Did you need anything?"

"No, nothing at all. Just checking up on you."

"You wanted to get away from Belova, didn't you?"

Groaning, you replied, "Being in the middle of those two arguing is intense."

"Mm..." Wanda hummed in agreement, "You get used to her rather quickly. The Bishop girl, too."

You were about to say your goodbyes, but you quickly remembered, "Oh, actually. There was something I wanted to tell you. I-I managed to get you on a patrol route with Noir. Tomorrow, 11pm sharp."

"A Saturday night? Well that's not going to be a walk in the park," she bit her lip, her smile seemed to widen, "Thank you, Y/N. This means a lot."

You cleared your throat before quickly turning your head away, wanting to hide your reddened cheeks upon hearing Wanda's soft voice, "Y-Yep! No problem! I-I hope the patrol goes well for the both of you."

Wanda raised an eyebrow at your sudden reaction.

She was going to question you, but you quickly excused yourself.

"Y/N!" Yelena exclaimed, her arms shot straight up in the air, "I missed you!"

"I was gone for less than five minutes, what-?"

"Nonsense! It felt like an eternity!" she pulled you into yet another hug.

You couldn't help but laugh at how Yelena acted.

Natasha laughed slightly, "You're so weird."

Yelena gasped as she pulled away from you, "How dare you..." she glared at her sister.

You were starting to wonder how these two managed to function in a house together when they were younger.

Getting home after work was always easy. All you had to was tap the metallic wrist band and bam: Spider suit. Swinging back home would always be the most efficient and effective way.

You stepped into your office, closing the door behind you. This had become a daily routine for you. Make sure there was no one outside the window and...

You tapped your wrist and quickly opened the window. The coast was clear. You launched yourself out of the window and swung up onto the high roof of the compound. The sun was setting, you took a deep breath of fresh air in as you watched the bright sky slowly turn darker.

"What are you doing here?"

A voice caused you to jump, you almost fell off the roof in the process.

"I-I, what- Huh?" you questioned, trying to compose yourself in the process.

"I said... What are you doing here?" Wanda.

You cleared your throat, "I... I was just admiring the sunset."

"Hmm. It's just, you're not usually here at this time," she said, slight suspicion in her voice.

You needed to make up a lie as to why you were here. You couldn't have her figuring out that someone who worked at the compound was Noir.

That was when your brain dinged, "I wanted to come over and apologise to you!" you quickly blurted out.

"Apologise?" Wanda asked, confusion across her face.

To be honest, you did want to apologise anyways. So now was a better time than any.

"Yeah," you sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the roof. Wanda cautiously joined you. You took a deep breath before continuing on, "I wanted to say sorry for what happened earlier. I know you want to know who I am, and I'm sorry that I can't tell you. Not yet at least."

"Noir..." Wanda sighed, shaking her head, "You have nothing to apologise for."

"It's not that I don't trust you. Hell, you're probably the person I trust most here."

Wanda felt her heart leap at that confession.

"Then what's holding you back?" she wondered, hurt still laced her words.

"It's a couple things, really. First off, it makes me feel so much safer. Having no one know who are you are gives you so much freedom. I'm not ready to give that up, yet."

"Another thing?" Wanda pushed.

You scratched the back of your neck, "W-Well... I'm... Scared."

"Of what?" she asked, she was clearly worried about why.

"There's this voice in the back of my head that keeps on telling me that nobody will like who I am under the mask. I'm afraid to face the disappointment."

That was when Wanda reached over and grabbed your hands, "You know that I wouldn't judge you, right? I would accept you as I do now. Nothing would change."

You could feel your cheeks heat up at the close contact, "I... I don't know," you admitted in full honesty. You soon felt tears within your eyes, "I've finally found people who accept me. I can't lose everyone here. I can't lose you, Wanda. You're the closest person to me."

Wanda frowned at the noise of your slight sob, "I will be here when you're ready, Noir. You have my word. I can assure you I will like you, whoever you are under that mask," her hands caressed her fabric covering yours, she then quickly added, "W-We all will like you. I promise."

"What if I'm never ready?" you turned away with a whisper.

Wanda's heart clenched at the thought of you never revealing who you were. However, she let out a shaky breath and replied, "Then your identity remains a secret indefinitely. And that is your decision."

"But, you wouldn't like that," you muttered. Your brain and your heart were all muddled up with what you should do.

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't like, Noir," she paused, her eyes focusing on your covered hands, "I would like to apologise for acting cold towards you earlier. Deep down, I do respect your decision to keep your identity a secret. Your feelings are what matters in this situation, no one else's."

"Wanda..."

She squeezed your hand gently, "Whatever you decide. I'm with you every step of the way. Okay?"

Without thinking, you lurched forward and wrapped your arms tightly around her, "Thank you, Wanda."

If you hadn't been wearing a mask, you might've actually kissed her then and there. But for now, You were just thankful that Wanda was on your side. A weight had been lifted off your shoulders that night, the thought of revealing who you really are to Wanda was becoming a pleasant one at last.

Perhaps the day you revealed your identity was a lot closer than you originally thought.

I love you all! Old readers, and new!

*Smashes Screen* HAVE A TAG LIST: @screechcat ; @princess-kennys-rats​ ; @lissaaaa145​ ; @maris-astrum​ ; @marvelogic​ ; @moonliqhtszn​ ; @charl-lally​ ; @an-evergreen-rose​ ; @almosttoopizza​ ; @daenerys713​ ; @yenmaximoff​ ; @lezzbehonesturhaught​ 

Hope you all have a lovely day/week~ 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader

[bittersweetarts]

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chapter 5)

Aemond Targaryen x You –  Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4

Word count: 3370 word

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Angst, misogynistic behaviour (quite sexist), minor violence, dubious consent

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 5: Family Line

Lord Larys does not try to speak to you again in the days following, but you cannot help but always feel eyes watching you. Unfortunately, you could not be certain that it was only him observing you, as you knew that if he suspected your private dealings, others inevitably did as well. This made you feel nervous, but not nervous enough to stop allowing Prince Aemond visit your chambers to sleep.

Unexpectedly, the Prince slipped into your room the next evening, and you accepted this without protest. Previously, you drank yourself into oblivion during the evenings, but with the Prince there, you did not feel the need to. Though his presence was threatening, by having him there, you felt sure he would not kill Jayse, as long as you appeased him. Hence, the two of you had a quiet understanding, and honestly, it was one which you did not mind.

Surprisingly, Aemond did not bother you in the evenings, letting you get on with mundane personal dealings, such as cleaning and writing to letters to your parents and siblings.

Also, with him there, you were finally able to continue doing something you enjoyed: reading. At first, the one-eyed Prince would watch as you read, which you found distracting, so you proceeded to pull a random book from your well-stocked shelf, in the hope that he would keep himself busy. Instead, he proceeded to retort that he had read it. So, you picked another, and the same occurred. And then again.

“From where did you think these books came from?”

This surprised you, causing you to blush, and the next evening, the Prince had brought his own. It was a philosophical book written by an Archmaester Rigney, someone you were unfamiliar with, and when you curiously asked about its contents, the Prince got adorably excited.

“I have just started studying it, and there is a proposal I find acutely true.” Pulling you onto his lap, he opened the book towards the beginning, flipping through until he found what he was looking for.

“Yes, here it is… ‘history is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again.’ It reminds me that we cannot remain complacent, because war is never truly over. Peace never lasts.”

Brushing his loose hair, you smile at him. “Well, I hope it does last. Peace, I mean.”

In a way, you have come to enjoy having the Prince in your company. But most of all, you appreciated how you managed to sleep soundly. You did not wake exhausted anymore, and though a man, he never pushed for anything more. You knew it would not last, but you convince yourself that once you know that Jayse has healed and left King’s Landing, you will put an end to this. Your reputation may be soiled, but you will protect your chastity. No future husband will be able to discount you on account of that, for it would not be a lie.

While your nights have changed with the roguish Prince’s presence in it, your days proceed as they normally do, quickly, as you become consumed with your duties.

Breakfast had unsurprisingly become an awkward ordeal for you, as you actively avoided making eye contact with your Prince, feeling both bashful and humiliated to be near him so soon after sharing a bed. You also felt guilty, as you knew that you were deceiving people who have been so kind to you, particularly the Queens. Unlike you, the wayward Prince found this all very amusing, often making commentary referencing your shared evenings, much to the confusion of his family, apart from King Aegon, who you suspected knew about your illicit affair, based on his returned jovial interactions with Prince Aemond. You could not help but suspect that perhaps, the wayward Prince has started confiding in him about something, if not about you, as you started to see the King Aegon lively for the first time since stepping foot into King’s Landing.

You also noticed a new worrying glint in the Queen Alicent’s eye. It would not surprise you if she knew, for she is the Queen Mother after all, but if she did, she had bestowed another kindness onto you, by ignoring it and allowing you to continue serving her.

Now, you found yourself often mute during breakfast (as well as other meals), chiming into conversation only when necessary. Fortuitously, Queen Helaena had become particularly consumed by her dreams as of late and ensured that everyone else had become intimately acquainted with them as well.

“Please tell our carers to remove strangler figs from the Gardens. I have seen how the trees they choke are never the same.” In response, you would grasp her hand gently and respond that there were no strangler figs on the castle ground, and Helaena would nod, only to request the same only a few hours later.

You knew that people at court mocked the Queen Helaena for her aloofness, especially when she was younger, and this made you angry. You found the young Queen wise beyond her years and of a strong character, for you knew some about the frightening things of her past.

The story of two assassins torturing and almost murdering her and her children was spread wide throughout the Kingdom during the war, and it was an important reason why many noble houses abandoned their support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim. Though the stories varied, it was wildly accepted that murder of servants, rape and mutilation was involved, and that sweet Helaena and her babes only survived due to Ser Criston Cole’s surprising visit to the Queen Alicent’s chambers that evening, a stroke of fortune. The outrage that spread throughout the lands after this story came to light is impossible to describe, for Queen Helaena, known as ‘the Innocent Targaryen’ in addition to the torture and attempted murder of three children was viewed as an unforgivable sin, especially when instructed by a woman. This is a subject you would never raise, but you did know that the children had scars that they should not, and days where Queen Helaena was confined to her chambers happened occurred more frequently than they should.

And so, your days pass and you never find yourself lacking, that is, until the months pass, and you fail to receive a single letter or correspondence from your family. You always felt like the black sheep, isolated, and you never did get too many letters from them. But since your last, where you informed them about your embarrassing failure at securing a marriage with Jayse Wylde, you have heard nothing back. They are your family though, and you thought perhaps your letter had gotten lost, so you wrote another. And then another. But still, you heard nothing. By this point, not only were you desperate to hear from your parents and siblings, but you wanted to visit them as well. But how were you to do that? You could not even get a word from them.

The final straw came during a celebratory dinner held at the Keep’s Great Hall, when you greeted Lord Borros Baratheon.

As the Lord of Storm’s End, Lord Borros had been acquainted with your parents and by extension, knew of you (your family was too large so he inevitably always confused the children, especially the daughters).

An honoured nobleman, the Royal Family valued Lord Baratheon’s loyalty and support during the war, and he was always invited to visit King’s Landing, especially during celebrations. Some petty squable at Driftmark had been resolved and King Aegon had called for a celebration, which Lord Borros Baratheon happened to attend, as he was at the capitol for unrelated matters. It was here that he formally met you as Queen Helaena’s Lady-in-Waiting for the first time, and apologised for missing your elder brother, Dayron’s, wedding with the youngest daughter of the Lord of Castamere, an admirable alliance. Hearing this, your heart shattered.

Not only had you not been invited to the union, but now you realised that all of your letters had not been lost, but ignored, as you had written countless, addressing not only your parents, but your many siblings as well. The pain you felt knowing this was debilitating, and you tried your best to courteously excuse yourself from Lord Baratheon, before abruptly fleeing the event, to seek refuge in your chambers. All you felt like doing was crying, and you could not even get yourself to try and stay for the feast, even though you were expected to. However, as you left, no one stopped you.

Much later in the evening, past the witching hour, Prince Aemond clumsily stumbled into your chambers. As he entered, he found you sat by the window, with only a few candles lit to provide illumination. You did not greet him as you normally do when he entered, facing away from him to watch the view. If he was irritated by this, he did not show it.

As he approached you, his steps were louder than normal, and you felt a hand guide your chin away from the view of the city.

Now facing him, he observes you, and you see confusion in his features.

“You’ve been crying.”

“And you’ve been drinking.” You retort back, pulling away from him and looking back at the window. You did not want him to see you in this state, and you considered barring the door, but thought against it, as you also wanted to sleep and now could not without his presence.

Sighing, the drunk Prince sat next to you on the bench and gently grasped your cold hands.

“Am I going to have to murder Lord Baratheon?” He says seriously.

“What? No!” You respond, shocked, turning your eyes back at him while drawing back your hands. The fact that he even proposed this was abhorrent.

“What has he done?” The Prince’s eyebrows were furrowed, and his face looked deathly. You realised that he was not fooling around, but you also did not want to acknowledge what has been troubling you. The thought of it hurt too much, and you felt responsible for it. It was your fault after all, for failing to be a dutiful daughter. Either they got sick of you, or they caught wind of your indiscretions, and both were awful prospects.

“Nothing.” You respond, and stand up, turning your back to the Prince, while running your hands through your hair in distress. You really were upset, and you were aware that you were not hiding it very well. You then feel arms wrap around you, and lips press onto your shoulders, which were bare as you wore a sleeveless nightgown.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” You shake your head and try to pull away, but Aemond holds you steadfastly. He repeats himself, hugging you more tightly. “Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

Spinning you around, the Prince presses his fingers onto your waist, and speaks in a ruthless tone. “If you do not tell me, then I will assume that it was the gluttenous hog of a man who bears responsibility, and he will pay dearly for it.” Your eyes water as he speaks harshly, and sympathy consumes him immediately. “Please, just tell me, my love.” Again, you shake your head stubbornly, tears falling as you do.

“Fine.” The Prince suddenly becomes angry and pulls himself away from, striding towards the door. This scares you for a moment, as you know his reckoning, if successful, will not go unpunished. Lord Borros Baratheon is the leader of one of the most important houses in all of Westeros, and the Prince would be an intoxicated boy about to kill or grievously harm an influential man due to a misunderstanding, involving a girl that did not matter.

“Aemond, please, stop.” You hardly ever call the Prince by his first name, and when you, you never fail to capture his attention. The Prince stops, but does not turn, frozen in place, the anger literally seething out of him.

“You are going to think me half-witted and disgraceful.” You croak out through sobs. You must have sounded miserable, because when the Prince turned around, his anger dissipated and he embraced you gently, rubbing your back in comfort.

“I could never. In this room, there is only one who lacks wit at times, and it is not you.” Tilting your head up, he sensuously kisses you near your mouth, his breath reeking of the honeyed wine which you favoured, before continuing. “And it is only out of passion.” Though you stopped crying, you were still upset, though you tried to compose yourself.

“If I tell you, promise me you will not do anything rash.” You held his gaze, practically holding it hostage, and he nodded immediately, without second thought. Taking a deep breath, you speak swiftly, because you knew that if you would not, you would not speak at all.

“I am alone, completely alone now. Through Lord Baratheon I found out that not only was I not invited to my brother Dayron’s wedding, but that I am not even worth writing to. I write almost every single day to my parents, my siblings, and I do not hear a single word back. My family does not even think I am worthy of being acknowledged, of being loved, and it hurts. It hurts so much.” Your sobs return stronger than before, and you go completely hysterical, you cannot stop yourself from admitting more.

“I miss them every single moment every day. Every time I look at Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor, I see my younger siblings, babes in my eyes, just like them. Did you know that they are practically the same age? The youngest three are triplets – Taliya, Liyana and Addysen – were born in the same year as Maelor, and I miss them so much, my heart aches for them so much!”

As you sob, Aemond comfortingly runs a hand through your hair repetitively, but you cannot stop. Instead, you lose your stability, and fall. The blonde Prince catches you before you reach the ground and holds onto you, effortlessly lifting you up and carrying you to your bed. You do not know for how long he comforts you, hugging you, rubbing your arms and kissing your head, but it feels never ending.

Until it doesn’t. Eventually you have no more tears, and your breathing evens. When it does, you feel void of emotions, a shell of who you are as a person. The Prince had not fallen asleep at any point, and continues watching you. You avoid his stare, opting to gape at the ceiling. The two of you sit there in silence, until he speaks.

“They do love you. Thinking otherwise is unfeasible.”

You want to ignore him, to say nothing, but you find it impossible.

“Then why won’t they even write back?” You voice broke as you spoke, and you could feel your emotions begin to suffocate you again.

You proceed to hug the Prince more tightly, perhaps you will be able to stuff your feelings back, and the Prince stares at you saddeningly. At this moment, he wished he did not take your leaving of the event so personally, by drinking so much. Because without second thought, he answered.

“They did write back.”

You wrinkled your forehead in confusion, and you pull back, letting him go. He still holds on to you though.

“What?”

You look up at the Prince, and see guilt briefly cross his features, before forcing his nonchalant expression. He ignored you this time, pressing his lips on your head, embracing you more tightly. This only serves to fuel your disordered state. You push out of his embrace and sit up, facing him.

“No, Aemond, stop this. What do you mean?”

Crossing his arms, the Prince responded, feigning innocence. ��I do not understand.”

“No, do not do this to me. What do you mean, they wrote back?”

You felt crazed at that moment, staring at him. Because until now, you could not imagine, anyone else involved with your issue, until you realised that if there was someone that could stop your correspondences from being sent, it could most certainly be a Prince. The more you thought, the more sick you felt. Shaking your head, you started backing away, standing up from the bed, stepping away.

“No. No. Aemond, please, no.” As you began rambling, the one-eyed Prince stood up, chasing after you. He tried to grasp your arms and embrace you, but you shook yourself away, in anguish. Your tears came back, and you felt betrayed.

“No, Aemond! You have been here! You have seen me writing letters to my family almost every night for so many weeks now!”

The Prince did not respond, only trying to hold you, but you anger was too much. You could not even fathom his touch, let alone his embrace.

“Stop! Please just tell me, did you stop my letters from being sent?” Looking at you with sad eyes, the Prince shook his head in response, but you were livid, and you could not believe him.

“Do not lie to me! I’m stupid, I’m a stupid, stupid, girl.” You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling exhausted and cold. “I am so, so stupid.” As you repeat yourself, you start striking your head harshly. Only one blow lands before you feel your wrists restrained. You keep trying, but they remained locked in his hold. This time, when the Prince embraces you, you do not push him away, but just stand there, limp and lifeless, you arms now dead by your side.

“I did not stop your letters from being sent.” The Prince speaks, his voice riddled with guilt.

“So, so stupid.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes. You feel his rough hands cup your face, and when you open your eyes, you see his, looking at you worried. “I am not lying.”

“Just tell me the truth. Please, mock me no more.” You say coldly. Sighing, the Prince embraced you tighter, and answered.

“It was not your letters I stopped, but theirs.”

Your eyes widen at the admission, and you misunderstand him for a moment. With all your strength, you push yourself away and stare at him, letting the words sink in. You could never imagine Prince Aemond afraid, and you stare at him in disbelief, for he looked almost afraid, with his jaw clenched and violet eye wide in fear. If this was about anything else, you might have dissipated your anger, but you remain deathly silent, thinking until you fully understand.

The Prince had not stopped your letters, at least that is what he claims. The Prince did stop your parent’s letters. Your sibling’s letter. How many could that be? How many months has it been since you heard from them? Did he just dispose of the letters, or did he also read them? Did he know that you brother was getting wed? How often has he deceived you? He sat here, almost every evening, watching you write to your family, with a sad expression on your face, yet he then continued to have pleasant conversations with you, embrace you, kiss you, share a bed with you… You felt completely betrayed, violently ill, ready to implode. You despised him for his deception, and you despised yourself for being so trusting. It was you who put yourself in this position.

“Get out.” You say quietly, and for a moment, you think the Prince does not hear you. He does though and tries to step closer to you and raises a hand, almost as if you were a dragon that he is about to tame.

“Get out!” You shout over and over again, but he does not, instead approaching you. You begin thrashing, but he does not stop, managing to get a hold on you. When his arms wrap around you, you try to hit him, many times, but fail, as his hold stiffens. You continue until you tire yourself, your voice diminishing, your sobs become silent. You continue crying though, and Aemond continues holding you.

“I hate you.” You finally say, breaking your silence.

“I know.”

Author’s note: I have just finished watching the season finale and I am not okay... I may need time to recover from it, so please be patient with my next chapter, as I sit here grieving my heart out

Link to Chapter 6 

Tags: girl-obsessed-with-things 404slayer404 moonmaiden1996 rosaryos  roseanimelover jovialfanatic wishfulwithwine missusnora maat-the-prescriptive  @let-love-bleeds-red​

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond image #aemond targeryen imagine #house of the dragon #aemondtargaryen!thots #house targaryen #hotd episode 10 #hotd #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #hotd aemond #fanfiction

[wildernessuntothemselves]

You Are My Queen Now | Part 4

Word Count: 11k

Genre: Smut, angst, teeny bit of fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: NONCON, NONCON, NONCON

Important note: Italics indicate an excerpt from a letter.

_________________________________________

When no reply comes from Taehyun, you start doubting yourself. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt–maybe the letter just got lost or didn’t reach him for some reason. But after you send a couple more, you become sure that this is no coincidence.  

Did he change his mind? Did he meet someone more suited to his position? Did he find out about Beomgyu? Did you mess this up? 

But then no other suitor comes along. No man tries approaching you even though Beomgyu said he'd stop sabotaging you, and you start to get suspicious.

So you test it out. You try approaching some of the lords that sporadically come through the castle to see if you could luck out, but they're still as curt and distant with you as they've always been, which you’d previously assumed was because they didn't find you attractive or suitable but now know is because of Beomgyu. 

You confront him about it, and he of course denies it. But you know he’s lying because he can’t resist saying that you should forget about them anyway and that those men are cowards who never cared enough to try to talk to you, therefore they don’t deserve you. As for Taehyun, he says it’s better that he stays away and that he’s only trouble. 

It was useless trying to get him to come around. He’s gone this far already. It would be foolish to think he’d suddenly become sane and let you make your own decisions. You had to take matters into your own hands, and so you approach his sister, princess Wonyoung. 

"I'm sorry to be asking this of you, princess, but I’ve been trying to contact lord Taehyun for some time now to no avail and I’ve recently come to suspect that it’s because your dear brother keeps intercepting my letters.” You try to keep your tone conversational, but your resentment still tinges it. “Is there any way that one of the palace's men who travels there can deliver the messages to him?" 

She sighs, looking at you like a patient mother handling her foolish toddler. It is entirely too condescending. "Sweetheart, you know lord Taehyun is bad for you."

"Truthfully, I don't care, princess.” You smile through gritted teeth. You’re fond of the princess. She’s always been kind to you, but you’ll be damned if you let her too control your life. “All the other ladies are betrothed or married by now and I’m not getting any younger. I need to get married and he is my only option. The problem is your little brother keeps interfering in my business." 

"He just wants the best for you, you know." The kindly way she says it just infuriates you more.

"He's sabotaging my chance of a relationship!"

“My darling,” She drawls, saccharine sweet, fluttering towards you and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "What do you need lord Taehyun for anyway? Don't we take care of you?" 

Something about her words stops you in your tracks. Maybe it’s because she never once tried to deny your accusations. Or maybe it’s because they sound far too reminiscent of what you’ve heard Beomgyu say a million times, but in a sudden moment of clarity, you come to realize something. She knows about you and Beomgyu, and she’s helping him. 

You think back to that day Taehyun came to the palace, how she suddenly had an errand for you when she never mentioned anything earlier. And not just her, the king too. He refused to let you and Taehyun use the archery range, claiming it was being used by the soldiers. And the queen! The way she put you down in front of Taehyun when she’s never done that before. 

They all know. 

Wonyoung calls your name, diverting your attention back to her and you look at her to see a worried expression on her lovely face. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” You mumble nonconcomitantly, “I have to go.” 

“But–” 

You’re not listening anymore. You turn around and almost run to your chambers before the horror can completely dawn on you. But in your hurry, you don’t watch where you’re going and you end up running into someone. 

“Sorry–” You start to say, but stop when you see the face of the person and feel his arms around you. 

“Whoa, there. What’s the rush, princess?” Beomgyu asks cheekily, but you don’t reciprocate his cheeriness, knocking his hands off you and stepping back. “Don’t touch me, and don’t call me that. People will hear you. They’ll see.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care.” 

Beomgyu has become increasingly more pushy and careless since his confession, to the point where he’ll try to pull shit like this in broad daylight where anyone can see. 

“Well, I do, and you know that.” You fire back. 

“Until when are you going to keep rebuffing me for a husband that might never come?” He retorts, “Even your murderer lord has forgotten about you, but I’m still here. I’ll always be here.” 

His words don’t reassure you as he probably hoped they would. In fact, they make you sick. It feels like a threat, especially now that you know his family is in on it. He’s closing in from all corners. You’ve been trapped all this time and you never realized it. 

“I know you’re the one who is intercepting my letters, Beomgyu. You have to be.” He starts rolling his eyes again but you put your hand against his chest and push angrily. “And I know your family knows too.” 

His expression oscillates for a second before it goes back to haughty mockery. “Oh my baby, you’ve gone insane. You can’t handle the rejection from him so you’re blaming it on me and now my family too.” 

You grit your teeth at the way he’s trying to pass off your suspicions as paranoia. “Fine then. If you’re not doing anything then I’m sure you won’t mind me taking a trip to Taehyun’s palace to confirm for myself and see why he changed his mind.” You turn to walk away but he grabs your wrist and jerks you back so hard that you collide with his body. 

“You will do no such thing.” Something cold and angry radiates off him, choking you. “I am my own person and I can go if I want to.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re mine.” 

You shake in his grasp. “Beomgyu, you’re scaring me.” 

Due to everything that has happened recently, you’ve come to realize just how possessive Beomgyu can be over you, but you never thought he’d take it this far. 

“Don’t say ridiculous things and I won’t have to.” 

“So now I can’t even leave the palace?”

“You can leave when I trust you not to do something stupid.” 

You swallow down the ball of terror that occludes your throat. “I want to go to my room.” You request shakily, “Please.”

He uses the hand he has around your wrist to pull you behind him, walking you towards your room. When you reach your door, he grabs your face and pulls you into a rough kiss which you don’t reciprocate. That makes him angrier, and he bites down on your lip, making you cry into his mouth and try to squirm away, but he holds on tight. 

“Please, let me go.” You shake in his arms. You’ve never been scared that Beomgyu would hurt you ever before, but the man in front of you now only bears the faintest resemblance to the man you love–like the devil wearing a distorted caricature of his warm face. 

He lets you go without a word and you rush into your room, slamming the door behind you and  pressing your back against it, squeezing your eyes tight and trying to catch your breath. 

But when you open them, you’re mortified to see a maid inside looking at you curiously. You run a hand over your face, feeling numb, and try to control your voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’re here.” 

“I’m the one who is sorry, my lady. I’ll take my leave.” She bows and walks towards the door. You step aside to let her pass but she stops when she’s in front of you and says in a hushed whisper. “This is for you.” 

She hands you an envelope then scurries out of the room before you have the chance to inquire about it. Flipping the envelope around in your hand, you try to make sense of it when your eyes fall to the signature at the corner. 

T. K. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Is this a letter from Taehyun? 

You look around to make sure you’re alone now then you slide the deadbolt on the door closed so no one can walk in on you reading the letter. As soon as you’re done, you rip it open, your eyes eagerly scanning the lines. 

To my beautiful lady, 

Already your heart is fluttering. He called you his. He has not abandoned you like Beomgyu has told you. 

I tried to write to you so many times but I’ve never gotten a reply. I thought that maybe you had forgotten about me or decided to stick to your prince.)

Your heart lurches. You were right. Beomgyu must’ve been behind this. Taehyun was trying to write to you all this time. He was having the same doubts you were having. 

I waited so long for a letter to come from you, but it never did. I almost gave up. But then I remembered what I had been told about the prince and how he had prevented other men from courting you before and I realized, with great horror, that he must be behind this too. I am so sorry it took me so long to realize. You’re probably sitting there in that dreadful palace wondering why I never wrote to you, and for that I can never be more remorseful. 

It’s taking me quite some time to plant someone in the palace so I could be able to bypass the obstacles he put and reach you. If you’re reading this then I must have finally succeeded. 

Oh, my lovely lady, how I long to hear from you. Please write to me as soon as you read this and give it to the maid who handed this letter to you. Oh, and make sure to burn this after you read it. The prince has demonstrated that he’s capable of ugly things and I shudder to think what he might do to you if this letter falls into his hands. 

Please be safe. 

I miss you. 

Yours, 

Taehyun

You read the letter over and over again, scared that the moment you burn it like he instructed, it would cease to have been real. 

He’s still there. He still cares. He went through the effort and risk to plant a spy inside the palace so he could be able to reach you.

You move towards the fireplace, pressing a hand to your fluttering heart as you throw the letter into the fire. You’re of worth to him. 

After you make sure it’s all burned up, you rush to your desk to write out your reply, telling him all about how happy this letter made you and how you miss him too. You confirm his suspicions about Beomgyu and tell him that that’s not the extent of that. You tell him that now you can’t even leave the palace, and how scared you are of what Beomgyu has become. 

__________________________

Taehyun is furious to hear of your imprisonment.

That bastard thinks he owns you.  I swear if I could, I would bash his pretty face into the ground for what he’s doing to you.

A sliver of fear worries at you at his words. Yes, Beomgyu has stepped over the line, but you don’t want to hurt him. You still love him.

I will free you from his clutches and take you back to my land. Here, you can do whatever you want to do, everything you’ve ever wished for. Only you will get to decide, my lady.

He’d promised you, and god, do you long for it. To be the master of your own fate for once? It sounded surreal to you. All your life you’ve done what your family wanted, what the princess wanted, what Beomgyu wanted. To be able to finally make your own decisions for once… it was exhilarating. 

And if what I want is you?

You had dared to ask. 

Like I said, whatever you want. I just need to know that that’s what you really want. That you’re willing to do what it takes to make your own destiny.

Came his cryptic reply. What it takes? Does he mean going against Beomgyu? 

The idea scares you a little, especially with this side of Beomgyu that you’ve never seen before. He gets more and more on edge every day now that you’re not being intimate with him anymore, not that you tell Taehyun that. You do tell him though about how Beomgyu is still treating you like a fragile bird, only good to be coddled and pampered. 

And it’s not that I don’t like getting pampered as much as any lady. I just wish to be treated like a person capable of handling their own life. I know the world can be cruel but I’m not a porcelain doll that would crack under the slightest pressure.

Taehyun had agreed wholeheartedly. 

That is why I’m drawn to you so much, my lady. I’m a man of certain principles, which I suppose is the reason why I’m feared so, and I believe that the lady who will one day stand beside me has to be of a strong mold. I do not wish her to hide behind me. I want her to rule beside me. Is that something you can do?

I think so.

I need you to know, not just think.

You hesitate. This is all very new to you and you don’t know what he expects of you. On paper, he’s perfect. He’s offering you everything you’ve ever wanted. He believes that you’re capable. But are you really?

There is a great deal you’d have to risk by saying yes. He is, after all, a stranger to you. You’d be starting your life over from scratch, chucking away everything you’ve ever known, and with how Beomgyu is going to take it, you won’t be able to go back if you come to realize that that life isn’t for you. 

You have to think about it thoroughly.

_________________________________

Meanwhile, Beomgyu is working hard to convince you that it’s a good thing that Taehyun has “backed off”. He showers you in gifts and lays out the most romantic dates for you. Moonlit dinners, piano serenades, little love poems–he goes all out. 

You can’t pretend like these declarations of love don’t move your heart a little bit, because they do. And during those moments, you like to pretend as if everything that’s preventing you from being with him doesn’t exist. But then you go back to your room to a new letter from Taehyun that slaps you out of your pitiful delusion. 

Beomgyu is not yours. 

Nothing drives that truth home more than when the wedding date approaches and the princess and her entourage finally come to the palace to begin the preparations. 

The welcoming party for her is huge, a banquet like you’ve never seen before. Even the peasants get a share as Beomgyu makes sure to distribute sweets, wine, and even meat cuts to those that gather to watch the princess’s extravagant arrival procession. For some of them, that would be the only time they get to taste meat the whole year and they sing praises and blessings for the kind prince Beomgyu and his beautiful princess. 

That’s what they call him, kind prince Beomgyu, for he always does things like this–whether it’s digging wells in isolated parts of the city so the people living there don’t have to travel all day to get water, or making the palace healers do runs to the city to help out the most ill peasants, or even arranging reading classes so some of the children could learn to read and write. 

He is beloved by the common people and their excitement and happiness for him to get married is genuine and palpable even from behind the walls of the palace. 

You, on the other hand, do not share such sentiments. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror, analyzing every little part of your look to make sure everything is on point–from the sultry terresses of your hair, to your make up that’s a little dark and very alluring, to your dress that veers on the side of inappropriate, the neckline a little too revealing and the fit a little too tight. You have to look your absolute best tonight. You want to turn heads at the welcoming party, but more than that, you want to drive Beomgyu insane. 

He’s been distant since the princess arrived, not attached to your hip like he used to be and no longer showering you in attention and love. You realize that you should be happy. This is exactly what you wanted–for him to stop caring so you can be free from him, but it just grates on you, the fact that he has seemingly forgotten about his promise to always care for you the moment his real princess steps foot into the castle. 

She is beautiful. You have to admit. Stunning, even. Her long black hair cascading down her back. Her eyes big and bright. Her smile lovely and her skin devoid of a single blemish. She’s the picture perfect princess that’s meant to stand beside someone as handsome as Beomgyu. 

And now that she’s here, you’re pushed to the side, forgotten about, and the bitterness you feel is black and monstrous. It burrows inside your fingernails and crawls under your skin. Will he even still support you or will he throw you to the side after he tried so hard to ruin all your chances at having a husband? 

Before heading to the party, you down a couple of glasses of wine to steel your nerves.

As you’d hoped, you have eyes on you from the moment you enter the celebration hall–some in lust and some in scorn. You can easily detect the hunger in some of the men’s eyes that you wouldn’t have noticed before because of your insecurities, but now that the whole truth is out, you see it as plain as day. 

Vexingly, they still don’t approach you. These are the lords of the palace after all, and Beomgyu has them on a tight leash. 

No worries, the princess brought her own entourage with her and these men don’t owe anything to Beomgyu. 

You look around the hall, looking for one such gentleman and you meet the eyes of a tall, jet-black haired cutie. He glances away quickly at being caught staring, and you could almost see his blush even from this far away. Smiling coyly, you approach him, extending your hand for him to kiss as you introduce yourself to him. 

His cheeks are as red as you’d thought, and he hesitantly bends down to kiss the back of your hand, shooting straight back up once he’s done and letting go of your hand. “Good evening, my lady. I’m lord Soobin.” 

“What a sweet name for a sweet gentleman.” You purr, delightfully watching his blush deepen even more. “Since you’ve been invited to come along with the princess, you must be very high up in the ranks of the court.”

“Oh, it’s not really me, it’s my father. He’s the king’s advisor.” He explains humbly, but adds on, “But I am working to earn my own place in court. I’m one of the best knights in the kingdom, and I’m hoping to be picked as one of the king’s royal guards.” 

“A face as handsome as yours, I would’ve never guessed you to be a man of violence.” 

“I’m not.” He rushes to say, “I prefer to think of myself as someone who keeps the peace. If it weren’t for men like me, the world would descend into the violence you speak of.”  

“Handsome and smart, what a charming combination.” You drawl, and he blushes again, stuttering over his next words,  “What about you? You must be one of Princess’s Wonyoung’s ladies in waiting.” 

You smile cheekily, “How did you know?” 

“They’re well known for their beauty, and you’re the most beautiful lady in the room.” The shakiness of his voice and his inability to look you in the eye do nothing to take away from the sweetness of his words. “May I know your full name?” 

You tell him, thinking nothing of it, but as soon as you do, his face drops and he stiffens. “Oh.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“No, no, it’s just–” He looks away uncomfortably, and his eyes widen as they lock onto something behind you. 

Your eyes narrow, and you’re about to inquire about his sudden change in demeanor when someone comes to stand next to you, and then it all makes sense. 

“Lord Soobin,” Beomgyu greets. He might sound cheery to anyone listening but you can sense the sharpness in his sweet voice. “I see you’ve met the lady.” 

Soobin gulps. “Yes.” 

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” The edge to Beomgyu’s voice is clearer now, and it seems like Soobin has picked up on it for he unconsciously takes a step back. 

You fume. Beomgyu is making a spectacle of you in front of lord Soobin. He’s treating you like you’re his property again, and this time there is an audience. 

“She is.” Soobin replies tensely. 

“Well, I’m sorry to have to take her away from you, but I need to talk to the lady about something urgent.” Beomgyu look to you, the corner of his smile twitching as his fingers slithers around your forearm, his hand gripping down on it tightly. 

“Of course.” 

Before Soobin even finishes giving his approval, Beomgyu is pulling you behind him, out of the hall and away from sight. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Beomgyu asks once you’re alone. 

“Enjoying the party like everyone else?” You retort. He has no right to be mad at you when he’s days away from marrying another woman.

“No one else is dressed like a slut and talking up strange men.” 

“I can do what I want.” You seethe, “You wanted me to be a whore so bad. Why are you mad now when I act like it?” 

Beomgyu laughs mirthlessly. “Why are you doing this? You think dressing like this and throwing yourself on men would get you a husband? No self-respecting man is going to give you the time of day.” 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” You sneer. “Left your well-bred princess to be here with me.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?” You’re thrown off by the pleased grin on his face. 

“No.” You reply unconvincingly. Even you wouldn’t believe you. 

“Oh, princess–”

“Don’t call me that! Your princess is in there. I’m just the whore.” You shout, tearing up. 

God, this is so humiliating. He’s marrying another woman. He’s controlling your life and preventing you from meeting other men, and when you do, he makes sure to stake his claim on you so they’d know you belong to him, and yet here you are, still crying over him. You’re pathetic, and you’ll remain pathetic as long as you stay with him. 

You try to get away from him but he’s strong and insistent, holding you in his arms and not letting you go. 

“You’re my princess. I told you that. I don’t love her. I love you. I will always love you, only you.” He smothers your face in kisses. “I’m sorry I haven’t been spending as much time with you lately but I was so swamped. I know you feel neglected, but I promise you, she’ll never take your place.” 

You stay silent because no matter what you say, he’ll do what he wants to do anyway. You’ll never get to have a choice when you’re with Beomgyu. 

“Now, either go change or go back to your room because if I see one more man looking at you, someone is going to get hurt.” He says lightly, but you know there is no humor there. He’s not kidding, and you don’t care to test him. You feel like shit and you’re not in the party mood anymore. 

“I’ll just go to bed.”  

That night, you finally give your reply to Taehyun. 

I can do it.

Wonderful. I’ll begin working on a plan to smuggle you out of the castle.

_____________________________

Beomgyu has been practically glowing ever since the welcoming party, parading around with his feathers pushed out, happy with himself now that he thinks he not only ruined your chances with Taehyun, but that you’re getting jealous over him. He’s been the one pushing and pushing all this time so for you to show that you care in a moment of weakness has him elated. 

You’re quick to put a damper on his mood though, rebuking him every time he tries to get back to his romantic ways from before the princess arrived, determined to prove to you that nothing changed and nothing will change—zealous in his insistence that the marriage wouldn’t affect your relationship at all. 

You think differently. You were already dubious of his plans for you, but having her here only makes the picture clearer. There is no honor for you in staying. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t need to know that part. With how far he’s taken things, you have no doubt he’ll attempt to stop you from leaving. You had to do it secretly, you and Taehyun had decided, and then deal with the fallout later–preferably when he’s calmed down. 

As for now, Beomgyu is displeased with your less than appreciative attitude for the effort he is making. 

“Would you at least attempt to level with me? I’m doing everything I can to please you but you’re being a spoiled brat.” He huffs. 

“Everything? Really?” You ask scornfully, “Then how come I can’t leave this palace?”  

He sighs, and looks away, staring into nothing while the gears in his head turn. You wonder what he has in store for you this time. 

“If I take you out for a bit, would you at least think about my offer?” 

That catches you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to actually relent. 

The offer he’s talking about of course is you agreeing to stay here as his whore so no, you will not think about it. But the chance to get out of the palace, even for a little bit, is too tantalizing to refuse. 

“Yes.” You lie, “Just for the love of god let me see something other than these walls.” 

“Great.” His answering smile is so wide, you almost feel bad about deceiving him, but you don’t. He’s not giving you something here. This is your right that he has taken from you, your freedom. “I’m supposed to oversee some of the construction going on around the city for the wedding. You can come along with me.” 

You falter, “But isn’t that something you and the princess should be doing together?” 

He waves his hand dismissively, “She’s too busy making preparations here. You can come in her place.”

“I don’t know, Beomgyu.” You? Going in the princess’s place? Is that even allowed? “Are you sure that’s okay?”

He shrugs, “Well, if you’d rather stay here–”

“No, I’ll go!” You shout. To hell with okay. You can’t stand staying inside of this palace any longer. 

Beomgyu gives you his signature mischievous grin and by force of habit, you find yourself grinning back as if you’re in on one of his classic pranks. 

______________________

The scale of the renovations is huge. The crown must really want to impress the princess’s family and the wedding guests. Whole roads are being widened and better paved, taverns and inns are getting upgraded, and beautiful decorations are strewn deliberately across the city. 

“So, what do you think?” Beomgyu asks you, brimming with pride. 

“It’s beautiful.” You say honestly, “I didn’t realize the city could look so lovely….” You trail off with a bit of sadness. 

This is all for her. 

You feel a hand clasp around yours, squeezing gently, and you look up, giving Beomgyu’s quizzical look a reassuring smile before you separate your hands and look away. 

You meet eyes with a curious girl who can’t be more than fourteen years old. She looks between you and Beomgyu, before asking, “Are you the princess?” 

The question makes you falter. No. You’re not her. You’ll never be her. You’re just the whore. 

You’re too caught up in your bitterness to answer, and Beomgyu swoops in to answer for you. 

“Yes, she is.” He says confidently, and it takes everything in you to hold your jaw and prevent it from collapsing to the ground. You send him a frantic look though, silently asking what the hell he’s doing?” 

“Oh, wow, you’re even more beautiful than I heard.” The girl says in awe, making you flush. 

You feel Beomgyu’s hand around yours again, and he brings it to his lips to give the back of it a small kiss. “She is, isn’t she?” He smiles at you proudly, as if he’s actually happy to have you standing by his side, and your treacherous skips a beat at that. 

Worried your heart will give out if you catch his loving gaze any longer, you quickly look away, searching for a distraction. 

Thankfully, you spot it. 

“The roads and the taverns and the inns I get, but why are some of the houses also getting fixed up?” You ask, looking to change the mood. 

“Oh,” He leans down to your ear with a sly grin, “I took the opportunity of the large wedding fund and the general chaos to help some of the citys folk patch up their broken or rundown houses.” 

You stare at him in shock. 

“What?” He asks, unsure what to make of your reaction. 

“You’re incredible.” You breathe, awed. 

He blushes and looks down in one of his rare shy moments. “I try.” He mumbles, kicking at a rock at his feet. Suddenly, his head shoots up. “You want to visit one of the houses I’ve been secretly fixing? They’re a wonderful, hardworking family. I know you’ll love them.” 

You smile with admiration overflowing from your eyes. “I’d love to.” 

_____________________

The family is quite wonderful. Despite their very humble abode, they spare no expenses at making you feel welcome, bringing out their finest foods and drinks–humble by your standards but it must be all they have. So you make sure to try your best to eat just a little–enough to not offend them, but not too much so as to squander their stores. 

They seem to know Beomgyu fairly well. The youngest son of the family had apparently been enrolled in one of Beomgyu’s literacy schools and he proudly shows off to him all that he’s learned so far. 

“Don’t bother the prince, Jaehyun.” The father scolds the boy leaning over Beomgyu’s lap. “You’re getting his clothes dirtied.” 

“It’s okay.” Beomgyu says graciously, “It’s moments like these that prove to me that I’m doing a good thing.” 

“But you are.” The mother pipes up earnestly, “You’ve done such wonderful things. Not just for us but for so many others. You’re an angel from the heavens.” 

You turn to regard Beomgyu. The people of the city love him. You’ve heard before that he’s quite popular with the commonfolk, but to see it in action is truly moving. 

It also creates quite the dichotomy for you. These people see Beomgyu as an angel. You’re sure that compared to any other royal, they’d never seen anyone with his generosity and kindness. To them, he could do no wrong. 

And a year ago, you would have agreed with them. But now that you’ve seen a side to Beomgyu that no one else has seen–a dark, ugly thing that grows with every indiscretion he perceives from you– it boggles your mind how these two opposing personalities could exist in the same person. 

“We’re so happy for you and the princess.” The head of the family speaks, indicating you, and you smile politely, playing the role. “You deserve happiness for all you’ve done for us and others.”

Beomgyu squeezes the hand he’s now permanently holding in his, and looks at you with fondness. “I’ll be happy as long as she’s next to me.” 

______________________________

The whole afternoon was surreal, and you’re still reeling from it by the time you arrive back at the palace. But when you do, you get one hell of a wake up call.

Apparently, the king wasn’t too pleased with your little rendezvous, and he’s on you and Beomgyu the moment you step foot into the palace. 

He grabs Beomgyu by the shoulders, shaking him angrily. “Listen here, boy. You think you can just jeopardize the marriage as you please?” 

“It’s fine, father, nothing happened.” 

“Nothing happened? So you didn’t spend the afternoon gallivanting around the city with that whore?” 

Beomgyu pushes him off roughly. “Don’t call her that.” 

“I was fine with you keeping her around up until now. I thought whatever, he’s a young boy and he just wants a friend so I accepted when you wanted me to keep her as a lady in waiting even when her father’s business started failing. I paid off his debts and subjected your poor sister to her so you can keep her to play with.”

A sense of cold dread flashes over your body at the king’s words. 

“What?” You ask in shock. What is he talking about? 

Beomgyu glances at you, an unreadable look on his face, before he looks back at his father. “Father, let’s talk in private.” 

But the king doesn’t listen to either of you, continuing. “And when you grew older and started becoming a man and wanted to play with what’s under her skirt, I was fine with that too. That’s what she’s here for, after all.” 

“Father, stop now.” Beomgyu grits out in warning, his hands curled into fists at his sides. 

You feel light-headed. 

“But to take the whore with you and masquerade her around as the princess—” 

Beomgyu jumps on his father, attacking him. 

“Shut up, shut up.” He growls, trying to hit him, but the guards jump in and restrain him before he can land a punch. 

“You attack your father over that whore?” The king spits, slapping Beomgyu across the face. “I have half a mind to let the guards take her right here in front of you so you’ll realize what she truly is.”

The color drains from your face and you start backing away. Your steps feel heavy as the blood ices over in your veins. 

“No!” Beomgyu screeches, breaking free and grabbing one of the guard’s swords. “I’d fucking kill you.” 

In that moment, Beomgyu’s older brother steps in between the other two royals. “Enough! Father, I know Beomgyu has messed up but you don’t have to be so harsh. And you Beomgyu, drop that sword and take your woman out of your father’s sight.” 

Beomgyu murderous gaze remains on his father, the same as the point of his sword. 

“Go! Now!” Yeonjun shouts, and you’re the one who moves, rushing towards Beomgyu and tugging on his arm urgently. “Please, let’s just go.” 

He looks down at you, and you shiver at the murderous intent in his eyes. 

“Beomgyu, please. For me.” 

 Thankfully, he relets, dropping the sword in his hands and taking you out of the room and back to your chambers. 

You hold onto him the entire way back, feeling the world spin erratically around you. Beomgyu keeps his arm around you to steady you the entire way, and for the first time, you don’t care about what anyone would think if they saw you. It felt like the longest walk you’ve ever had, and when you finally make it back, he gently lays you down on the bed. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, but you ignore his question. 

“Is what he said true? Am I only here because of you?” 

He sighs. “I didn’t want you to find out. I know how proud you are. God, I hate that bastard.” He snarls angrily. 

Beomgyu’s relationship with his father is far from ideal, and him lashing out against him today was years in the making. 

You can’t be too concerned about his feelings right now though.  He owes you an explanation. 

You stare at him expectantly, silently, waiting for him to continue. 

He smiles gently, “But yes. When we were kids, your father’s business wasn’t very successful. He was at risk of losing not only it but all your lands too as he’d built up quite a debt to try to save it. You were going to get kicked out of the palace because of it, but I intervened. I begged my parents to help your father and to let you stay here. My father was against it, but you know how my mother adores me.” He says cheekily, trying to lighten the mood but it doesn’t work. He sighs, “She convinced my father to help your family so you can stay here with me.” 

So your whole life was a lie? Everything, your every little detail, was built around him? 

Even lying down, the world continues to spin round and round until you feel like you would throw up.

“Say something, baby.” He murmurs gently, and your eyes snap to his worried face.

“You’re hurt.” You comment in a daze, reaching up to brush your hand over the wound across his eyebrow. 

He grabs your hand and kisses the palm of it. “That doesn’t matter now. All that matters is you.” 

“No, Beomgyu. All that matters is you. I’m only here for you. I really am your whore." It’s a statement now. A fact. Now you understand why he feels so entitled over you. He really does own you. 

He gets closer and holds your face in his hands. "You're my princess."

Your lips wobble as you try to hold in your tears. 

“I need to be alone.” 

“Baby–” 

“Please, Beomgyu. It hurts to even look at you right now.” 

He looks wounded by your words, but he acquiesces. “Okay, princess.” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll come back in a few hours.”

As soon as he leaves, you get up to write to Taehyun. You need to leave. You can’t stay here any longer. 

(Alright, Taehyun. I’m ready to execute the plan we agreed on.)

_____________________________

The night before the wedding, Beomgyu visits you, drunk and distraught. 

He slams the door behind him and rushes to you, gathering you in his arms and breathing a sigh. “Oh, princess.” His voice shakes, and you look into his puppy eyes to see them glittering with tears. “I can’t do this. Let’s run away. Let’s go somewhere far away from here where we can be happy. Where we can be together.” He peers into your eyes desperately. "Please."

“We can’t. You know that." You say gently but firmly. You’re done having your life be dictated by him. "You have to do this. You have to marry her.” 

“But I don’t want to. I don’t love her. I love you. I only want you.” Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest at his words and the tears that flee from his pretty eyes, cascading down his face, trigger your own. You cup his face in your hands, attempting to brush the tears away but they just keep streaming down. “I know, sweetling.”

He presses his forehead to yours, sobbing. “I can’t. I can’t.”  

“You have to.” You repeat, because what else can you say? That your heart is breaking the same as his? What use would that be? It won’t change anything. 

“I love you.” He wails, clutching onto your body as if he’s scared you’d leave him, and that just makes you break down too, your own tears streaming down your face. 

“I love you too.” You repeat honestly.

You give him a kiss–a deep, emotional one that you pour all that you can’t say into–your love for him, your sadness at what’s happening, your sorrow at what you’re about to do to him–and he greets it with the same level of emotion, except his heart is laid bare for you. You can feel what every brush of his lips mean, what every glide of his tongue against yours conveys. 

When you pull back, his tears have slowed down, and you successfully wipe them off his face this time, giving him a pat on the cheeks when you’re done and stepping away. “Now go. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." 

He shakes his head. "Let me stay with you tonight." He pleads, and before you can say no, he adds. "Please. There are a million thoughts running through my head right now. If I’m left alone, I might lose my mind." 

You think it over. It can't hurt, right? You'll be leaving tomorrow anyway. It could very easily be the last night you get to spend with him.

"Okay." 

He holds you so tightly as you drift off to sleep together. You feel his heartbeat against the back of your chest, synching up with your own as if you were one. And as sleep starts to overtake you, you find yourself having one wish, that you never wake up so that you don’t have to be apart from him. 

________________________

But sadly, you do. 

You’re jostled awake when you feel him shift away from your body. Unconsciously, you reach out to grab onto him and bring him closer again. 

"What?" You mutter groggily, blinking the sleep from your eyes. 

"It's okay. Go back to sleep, princess." He lulls softly, but you refuse to give into it. "Where are you going?" 

"I have to go get ready." 

"For what?" You mumble, still confused from sleep, but then your brain catches up, and you’re suddenly wide awake. You look out the window, seeing that the dawn is barely cracking. "It's still so early."

"I know but there is lots to do." He says sadly. 

You cradle his face in your hand and he leans into it. "Have you even slept at all?" 

He kisses the inside of your hand. "I couldn't. But it's alright. Just having you in my arms is enough." 

You don't know what to say so you just kiss him. 

"I wish I didn't have to go." 

"I wish you didn't either."

He takes a deep breath then disentangles himself from you. “I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”

(I won’t be here then.) You think, but only give him a wistful smile.

"I'll have some maids come and stay with you tonight to keep you company." 

You sit up at that, alarmed. They can't. You have to be alone for the plan to work. 

“Oh, that won’t be needed.” You try to get out of it, but Beomgyu insists. “I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“Beomgyu, I don’t want these random strangers to see me cry over you.” 

“I’m sorry but they will be there to keep you safe.”  

“Safe from what?” 

“He will be here tonight.” He doesn’t need to specify a name for you to understand who he is talking about. “I don’t want a repeat of last time.” 

“Are you serious?” You snap indignantly, but inside you’re panicking. This throws your entire plan to shit. Having them here will alert the guards when Taehyun sneaks in. 

“Yes.” He says coldly, “Oh, and there will also be guards both outside the door and under your balcony.”

______________

You pace restlessly in your room, not caring about how the two maids are staring at you quizzically. Taehyun is going to try his plan at any moment now, not knowing that you're not alone in the room. 

The plan was to wait until everyone is distracted, then Taehyun–who as a major lord of the kingdom had to be invited despite Beomgyu’s chagrin–will sneak off and meet up with a few of his guards to break you out of your chambers and slip you out of the palace. But now, you don’t even know what he’ll do.

You are so nervous. If this plan fails, you’ll be in a world of trouble. Beomgyu has been bending over backwards to please you, and if he finds out about your escape attempt, all that energy will be converted to anger. You hope to god, you won’t be here when it does. 

You, of course, are not invited to the party. Not after Beomgyu’s stunt the other day. The king is adamant that you stay far away so you don’t bring any more embarrassment to the royal family. Fine by you. This way you won’t have to watch the man you love dancing and drinking with his new bride, and it will make your great escape more discreet. 

You jump when you hear footsteps outside your door and then a commotion. It's him. He's here.

______________________________________

Oh god, oh god, oh god. 

The plan was a disaster. 

Taehyun had been smart enough not to try to sneak in through the balcony like you had originally planned. He must've seen the guards under your balcony.

He'd taken quite some time to do anything at all, probably trying to work around the new issue you hadn’t anticipated. It took so long for him to do anything that you had begun to feel worried that he'd abandon the plan altogether. Which in retrospect, is what he probably should’ve done.

But he must have felt the same pressure because he just went ahead with the plan anyway, deciding to attack the guards at your door and disarm them. He succeeded in doing it fairly quickly, but they didn’t have the keys as he’d thought, and it seems like he didn't know about the maids either, because he hadn't anticipated them screaming for and alerting the guards under your balcony. You'd tried to hold them back, begging them to stay quiet and even grabbing one of them but the other just ran to the balcony and screamed for help. 

The guards underneath called for backup before heading straight to your chambers. 

Taehyun didn’t even get the chance to knock down your door before the reinforcements were on him. Your blood rang in your ears as you heard him and his men fight for some time before the reinforcements arrived and they had to surrender. 

Hearing them being escorted away, you found yourself struggling to breathe.

Now here you are, crumbled on the floor, dizzy with the realization that your plan had failed abysmally. 

You don’t know how long you just sit there on the floor, staring into space, so scared you feel nothing. But then the door opens and a couple other maids step in, the door promptly closing behind them. 

The new women have ropes in their hands. You eye them warily as they whisper something to the two who have been with you tonight and they all turn to you. You shoot up on unsteady feet, walking backwards as they advance on you. 

“What are you doing?” You accuse, screaming as they lunge to grab at you. “Don’t fucking touch me!” 

You think they’re going to tie you up so you won’t escape, but the truth is much worse. 

They grab onto your dress and pull harshly in opposite directions, ripping at it until it’s just rags at your feet. They do the same to your underwear, not stopping until you’re fully naked. 

Before you can even cover yourself with your arms, they grab them and pull them behind you, tying them behind your back. Then they push you towards the bed, dragging your body up until you’re lying in the middle, one of them pinning you down with her body while the others grab your legs and pulls them up, tying them to your thighs then securing each one to a rope that extends to the upper corners of the bed, effectively leaving you spread-legged and exposed with your hands tied behind your back on your own bed. 

Once they’re satisfied with their work, they leave without a word, and you have to sit there in this humiliating position, left to stew in your fear and regret at what Bemgyu has in store for you. And with the way you’re spread open like a sow waiting to be bred, it’s not hard to guess. 

___________________

As the door swings open, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of Beomgyu in his wedding attire–draped in white and gold and looking every bit like the angel the people describe him as. 

For a split second, you imagine you’re his bride on your wedding night and he’s here to make love to you instead of the horror that is about to unfold. 

As he makes his way into the room and closes and locks the door behind him, his aura is entirely different from the last time you saw him. Gone are all the sorrow and guilt. Instead you’re greeted by pure rage. 

He stops at the foot of the bed for a second to stare at your body laid out for him like a prey waiting to be devoured.  You can practically see the lust in his eyes, and you futilely tug on your restraints to cover yourself. 

“Beomgyu–” You start, throat dry but wanting to get any word in, in the hopes it would be something that would get him to have mercy on you.

That breaks him out of his trance. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He growls, shoving his jacket off. "Don’t you think you’ve done enough."

He throws his shirt off and gets on the bed, crawling towards you like a panther. 

“Beomgyu, please don’t do this.” You beg, pulling at your restraints and trying to free yourself. 

“You don’t have the right to protest anymore. You lost that when you tried to leave me. I gave you so many chances to come to me on your own. I waited years, and yet you turned your nose up at me and thought you could do better.” He condemns, his hands grabbing at the flesh of your thighs eagerly. “I’m not going to wait anymore.  This is only one way to remove that nonsense from your head and make sure you never leave me."

You keep pulling at the restraints, the ropes digging angrily into your skin, bruising it, but you don’t care. 

"Shouldn't you be with your wife right now?" You attempt to find a way out. 

"You're right.” He starts and you think maybe you’re getting somewhere but then he runs his hands all over your body and you know he’s not stopping. “It's my wedding night. I should be consummating my marriage right now, but here I am, because you decided to be a treacherous whore and try to run away with him. Is this what you wanted? To ruin my wedding night and have my attention all on you?"

“No, Beomgyu, I swear. I didn’t.” You cry out earnestly, “You have to go back to her. Aren’t you afraid she will find out?” 

He laughs loudly, scaring you. "You think she doesn't know? Fuck, everyone knows you belong to me except you. Even your family knows. They gave you to me completely." 

"What?" Even your family knows? You knew he helped save your father's business, but you didn't know they sold you to him. You’ve been working so hard in order not to bring them shame, and to try to marry into a rich and powerful family so you can do your part like your siblings, but all this time they were whoring you out to the prince? 

“Yes. There had to be a price to repaying all that debt, baby, and I’m ready to collect now.” He bends down to kiss you, his mouth unyielding against your own. Your blood curdles in your veins, and you fight against him, groaning into the forced kiss, "Beomgyu, don't."

He pulls back, clearly pissed. “I swear if you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t bother being gentle.” He threatens, spreading your already spread pussy lips even further apart. "God, I've been dreaming about this cunt since last time. I’d eat you out all night if I didn’t have to get back to her soon.”

You can’t help the grimace that takes over your face at the reminder of his wife, and Beomgyu notices. He brushes the back of his hand across your cheek lovingly. “Hey, it’s okay. I told you. I’m only yours. Don’t worry, princess, when I’m done with you, you’ll be sure of that.”

“Beomgyu, please don’t. You’re not in your right mind. Go to your wife and we’ll forget all about this.” You try to reason with him but apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say. 

He sneers, “Here I am trying to make sure you understand that you’re the only one for me despite everything, but you’re telling me to go fuck another woman? Do you even love me?” 

“I do, Beomgyu. I love you so much, which is why you have to stop this madness. If you do this then I’ll hate you.” 

That stops him in his tracks and you think you’re finally getting to him, but then produces a vial from his pocket and unscrews it with his teeth, upturning some of the contents over his fingers and coating them with a slippery substance. Your stomach drops.

“I’d rather you hate me than leave me.” His hand goes to your pussy, rubbing the lubricant all over it in wide strokes. “If you hate me then you can learn to love me again. If you leave then that’s the end.” 

"I won't leave. I promise." Your words come out breathy as the movement of his fingers start getting to you. "Beomgyu, baby, don't. I won't try to leave again. I promise." 

"I want to believe you but I can't. I have to make sure." He says, tone sinister and indomitable. His fingers rub your pussy in slow circles, avoiding your clit for now, nothing overwhelming yet but it builds a low heat in your stomach. You have to stop it. 

"I love you, Beomgyu. I don't want our first time to be like this." You try a different approach, but the anger in his gaze stops you. 

"You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to get married to another woman, have you try to leave me for that monster, and then have to force myself on you? None of this is what I wanted." He shouts and you flinch, "We could've been together a long time ago. We could've done this so much better if you weren’t so stubborn."

Your temper flares at his words despite your predicament. "Stubborn? You call me not giving you my virginity out of wedlock stubborn?" 

"Yes. What does marriage matter anyway? You're still mine. This pussy is still mine." He grits, his fingers going back to rubbing your pussy but this time he brushes his thumb over your clit while his other hand reaches up to cup one of your breasts, and whatever retort you had escapes you in a gasp. "These tits are mine."

The combined stimulation of his fingers brushing over your entrance, his thumb on your clit and his other hand kneading your breast and pulling on your nipple is just too much and you let out one last pathetic 'stop', not wanting him to get the satisfaction of making you cum. 

A surprised gasp is ripped from you when he actually stops, the distressed tinge to it doesn’t escape his notice. 

“Oh, were you close?” He asks mockingly, “Sorry, princess. The only way you’ll be cumming tonight is on my dick.”

“Then I don’t want to.” You shout. “I don’t want to cum. And I don’t want your dick.”

"Don't be an ungrateful brat. After all I've done for you." His hand returns to your pussy, this time sinking a finger in. You yelp and try to close your legs, feeling a stinging pain as he pushes against your hymen, but he doesn’t stop.  "That's it. I know my perfect princess is deep inside." 

“Beomgyu, please, please. You can’t do this.” You say, but your pleas fall on deaf ears. You can see it in the wildness of his eyes. He’s enthralled by what he feels. 

"So tight." He groans, palming his dick through his pants. "You know, baby, a princess’s job is to be good to her man and open her legs for him to fuck and breed her. You wanna be my princess, don't you?" 

“I’m not a princess. I’m just the whore so stop pretending to nice.” You spit out bitterly. He’s defiling you and yet he has the audacity to act like he’s doing something for you. 

“You keep saying that. If you want to be the whore so bad, fine by me.” He asserts, pushing a second finger in. 

"Beomgyu, it hurts." You weep, seeking solace in him despite him being the one who is causing you pain. 

“I thought you didn’t want me to be nice.” He derides, his fingers pumping in and out of you, the burning sensation increasing as he works through your hymen, forcing a track for them, and you whimper in pain. 

He sighs, stopping for a moment with his fingers buried inside you, and bends down to mouth at your chest, making you gasp. Suddenly a fresh wave of arousal soaks his fingers when his tongue laps against your nipple. 

"You like that?" He asks hoarsely, continuing to flick your nipple with his tongue while he scissors his fingers inside, trying to make more room. 

You do, but you’d die before letting him know. He keeps going, sucking and licking at your breasts while his fingers more easily thrust inside you. He’s up to three fingers now, helped by how wet and aroused you are. You can’t help it. The image of the man you’re in love with mouthing at your breasts while his fingers pump in and out of you, all while his big pretty eyes stare up at you in lust and adoration, is simply too much for you to handle piously. 

You try to stay quiet, to not let on how close you were, but your little mewls and whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him and he stops. You can’t hold back your whine at being denied again so close to the edge. 

“Aw, princess, did you want to cum after all?” He murmurs, kissing your closed lips.

“I hate you.” 

His face gets serious. “I know you don’t. You’re just being stubborn because you think you know what’s best for you more than I do. But I’ll make you see.” He sits up, his hands going to his pants to undo them. 

“No, no, no.” You chant, shaking your head and trying uselessly to close your legs.

“Yes. You can’t see it now because you’re too proud to admit but I’m the best you have, and if I have to break you a little to see that then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He takes his cock out, and even though you’ve seen it before you nearly faint at the prospect of having to take it in your virgin pussy. You watch in horror as he lathers it in oil, and start to panic when he slides the head up and down your pussy, breathing hard and fast. 

“Please, Beomgyu, I’m so sorry. I’ll never disobey you again. Please, please!”

Despite your pathetic begging, Beomgyu is not fazed. He lines himself up with your entrance but doesn’t push in right away, instead he leans down to kiss your forehead and nuzzle his nose against yours. “Shhh. Breathe for me. If you don’t relax it will hurt more.” 

“I don’t want to do this.” You sob. 

“I know you don’t now, baby.” He kisses each of your cheeks. “But you’ll realize it’s the best for you later.” 

You know you’re in no position to yell but his words just ignite an anger in you like no other. “You don’t care about what’s best for me. You want this for yourself.” 

“You’re right. I don’t care. You’re mine. I worked so hard to keep you. Maybe it’s time you do something for me for a change.” He scowls, pushing into you. 

“Beomgyu, wait–” You shriek, but he doesn’t stop.

“If you don’t want me to be nice then I won’t. Take it, you spoiled brat.” He forces himself into you, making you scream as you take him. Thankfully, when he’s in to the hilt, he pauses. 

“I’m finally inside you.” He breathes in awe, staring at where you’re joined together. "Fuck, look, you can see me filling you up."

You look down to see a bulge in your stomach where his dick lies and you feel nauseated. It's grotesque, a testament to him having broken you. 

That’s it. You’ve lost your virginity out of wedlock. You’re worthless now. 

“You’re mine.” He confirms as if reading your mind, splaying his fingers over the bulge then pulling out to slowly drive back in, feeling it under his hand. 

He leans down, kissing you, the pained moans you let out allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth."It will be okay, princess. It'll feel good soon." 

You break down, sobbing loudly. 

“Don’t cry. You’ve made me wait so long for this pussy.” He drives his dick into you harder, making sure you’re fully deflowered.  "Take it. You were made for me. You can take it."

As he keeps rocks into you, your body starts getting used to it, and entirely without your consent, your body starts responding to him–your pussy getting wetter and contracting around his dick. 

“There you go, good princess.” He praises, his hands going back to your body, once playing with your pussy while the other palms at your tits. “Your body knows who you belong to.” 

You want to throw up. You don’t care how your body is reacting. You don’t want this. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Beomgyu, the man you considered your best friend and the love of your life, has taken you despite your will and ruined you for any other man. He knowingly ruined your chances of ever getting married because he’s too selfish to let you go. 

“God, if you keep squeezing me this hard, I’m not going to last.” His warning takes you out of your ruminations and a new cold wave of horror spreads over you. 

"Please don't cum in me." You beseech, and he staggers for a moment. "But I thought you wanted a child." 

"Not like this.” You wail, completely breaking down now. “Please, Beomgyu. Haven't you taken enough?"

He keeps going, his thrusts growing sloppy and erratic, and your cries break off into heartbroken hiccups as you prepare to take his seed. But at the last second, he pulls out, giving his cock a couple of strokes before he cums, his warm seed landing on your stomach. 

His heavy pants fill the room, mingling with your now more subdued cries as he stares at you, his heavy gaze raking over every inch of you as if to commit it to memory. 

Silently, his hand moves between your legs, burying two of his fingers inside you and bending down to suck at your clit. It doesn’t really take long to have you cumming on his face, your walls clamping down on his fingers as they keep rubbing against a spot inside you that makes your vision go white. 

“Stop, please. No more.” You plead weakly, the sensation becoming too much. 

He gives your pussy a small kiss before he takes his fingers out and sits up. You let your eyes drift closed as he gets off the bed and rummages around in his discarded jacket for something. But when you feel the bed dipping again under his weight, your eyes fly open in apprehension to see him holding a dagger. 

For a delirious moment, you think he’s going to kill you, but that’s quickly dispelled when you realize he got the knife to set you free. He cuts the ropes pinning your legs to the bed first, then he cuts the ones tying your legs together. Lastly, he flips you over and cuts through the ropes tying your hands behind your back. Once you’re completely free, he turns you around to face him.

“I need to go right now, but I’ll be back soon.” He promises as if that is something you’d want. “In the meantime, I’ll have the maids come in to give you a bath.” 

You don’t say anything in return. You don’t know if you can even say anything if you wanted to. Not that Beomgyu expects you to. He presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring that he loves you, before getting off the bed and calling for the maids. 

_______________________________________

You’re actually grateful for the bath. It allows you to feel like you can wash away the events of the night, if only for just a moment. You do it yourself, grabbing the loofah and scrubbing at your skin until it’s red. Only stopping because the maids intervene and take it away from you. 

But the feeling of cleanliness doesn’t last long because Beomgyu is back before you can even get the chance to absorb the gravity of what he did to you. 

He slips into the freshly-made bed beside you, smelling like he had just taken a bath himself, and for that you’re grateful. At least you don’t have to smell her on him. 

He has some soothing balms in his hands, and he tugs the covers away from your body so he can rub the lotion into your skin, taking care to pay special attention to the rope burns, planting an apologetic kiss on each and every one when he’s done with them. 

You just lie there pliantly. There is no use fighting anymore. He has won. 

After he’s done, he gathers you in his arms and covers the both of you back up. 

“I love you so much. Now we can finally be together.” He whispers in your ear reverently. "I'll give you more than you could ever want. You will never want for anything again. You’ll see."

“And if he ever tries to take you from me again. I'll murder him in front of your eyes."

___________________________________________

A/N: so many things revealed this chapter and we got to see new sides to the characters. ahhhhh can't wait to hear from you what you think.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut

[pocket-ozwynn]

Offline Valor: Chapter 3

[Borrower!AU]

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word Count: 3874

CW: blood, mentions of death, light adult language

Not two minutes after being called a ‘titan’ and Zelly had nearly fallen on her face. She’d been so caught up in trying to make it out into the hallway, that somehow she’d stumbled over her feet. She choked back a bark of profanity as she clutched the chilled can of Baja Blast and braced herself against the wall. At least she was out of sight from Rowan.

She felt the rising need to scream. This was insane.

She shook her leg until one sandal flew off, then did likewise with the other before hurrying off towards the opposite end of the house. Hopefully that would give her enough privacy to vent some of her anxiety without totally unnerving her diminutive guest. Her feet thumped across the cool hardwood as her mind swam with noncoherent thoughts…

Wonder and worry mingled caustically as Zelly hurried Rowan in. And while she couldn’t deny the quiet marveling she had carrying this finger-tall man in her hands, there was also a certain degree of horror and concern. He felt so frail. His breathing was shallow and his muscles faintly trembled as he spent the last of his energy just staying awake. And when he slipped into unconsciousness and nearly fell out of her hands, she was run through with a fresh spike of anxiety. She couldn’t ignore how delicate this life she held in her hands was—like flickering embers of a dying flame.

She made a mental checklist of what to do: first, she’d need to stop the bleeding; second, she’d need to get his core body temperature down; third, water. Rowan was bound to be dehydrated, so she’d need to make sure to get him a bottle cap full and make sure he sipped.

As she got the kitchen sink going, she noticed something. It was a little thing–literally–but she noticed his hand. The palm was upturned and the fingers were slightly curled…

His hand looked just like hers.

After staring for perhaps a beat too long, she shook herself from her stupor and gingerly laid the Borrower out on the countertop. Carefully pinching the front of Rowan’s shirt between her nails, she ripped it twain with an effortless tug. The sight of a red-slick chest was all too familiar to her as she peeled back the halves. With lips pursed, she tugged the ruined tunic and microfiber cloth-turned-cloak off and set them to the side before gathering him up once more to examine the man closer.

Zelly’s eyes widened slightly as she examined him. Not because of the blood, but rather because of how much more worn and strong his body was than she first thought. Rowan had been covered up before, but now she saw the pale scars marbled into surprisingly lean muscles.

And that burn. Not the sunburn (that thankfully was contained to everything above the neck), but rather the second degree scar tissue that went up from his waist to armpit—it covered a huge chunk of his right side. What had done something like that? If that was on someone her size, that would’ve been an utterly massive injury that would’ve called for immediate hospitalization. But for someone like Rowan, it could’ve been anything she might’ve considered mundane…a grill? A firework? Had it been an accident, or something more cruel? She couldn’t consider the possibilities—she had to focus.

Step one, stop the bleeding. She briefly tested the faucet’s flow before gently bringing his body over so the tap water would flow over him like a cool waterfall. Zelly examined Rowan as she carefully washed him, her eyes scanning every detail of his chest for any signs of injury. And as the light refracted off of the glistening skin as she cradled his body in her fingers, she couldn’t help but wonder what life was going to be like after she turned off the sink.

She found the source of the bleeding after getting him washed off. It was a diagonal cut roughly the size of Rowan’s hand that ran across his breast.

Thankfully, it was largely stitched up with the bleeding only coming from the sternum-ward side. It looked like a few stitches had popped. And while she couldn’t be sure what caused that in the first place (Chu Chu maybe?), her mind was caught up with who did the stitches in the first place. Rowan? Or someone else?

Thankfully the treatment was easy enough. His blood coagulated fairly quickly after she applied pressure on the wound with the tip of a clean kitchen towel for about five minutes. From there she applied some Vaseline, then—with the smallest band-aid she could find, which was still huge in comparison—she wrapped the band-aid as best as she could, then got him settled into a shot glass filled with cool water to get him started.

And yes, the shot glass was a stupid idea. But hey, it worked.

Wood turned to carpet as she reached the living room. She fumbled with the pull tab on her soda as her hands uncharacteristically shook. After a few moments of losing the fight to her Baja Blast, she finally cracked it open on the third anxious lap around her living room. She took a drawn out swig and savored the fizzing lime as she allowed the last ten minutes to sink in.

God, what the actual hell, Zell, she silently lamented. She still felt the imprint of Rowan—the sensation was burned into her memory: a full-grown man breathing shallow, ragged breaths as he lay unconscious in her pal-

“Okay, so tiny men just-” Zelly exhaled through her teeth. She tried violently shaking the feeling from her hand, as if it was covered in fire ants. “-EXIST now? Great, cool, good!!! Nothing insane about THAT, right?!”

With no one to respond to her exasperated query, she took another defeated swig. She silently wished for a stronger drink, but she knew better than to consider that when she was dealing with a patient. She chugged the rest of her drink, set it on the nightstand, then threw herself onto the couch. She buried her palms into her eyes as she just groaned.

Before stepping out of the kitchen, Zelly had left Rowan with a Gatorade cap filled with water. It had been comically large in comparison, but it was clean water that he could drink and that’s what mattered. Food would be next, despite his insistence. 

But what came after that? 

A familiar, useless feeling percolated at the corners of her heart, and she had to be careful not to let it overwhelm her again. But thinking realistically, she was just some idiot streamer right? What was she going to do to help this weathered warrior, aside from putting a band-aid on his chest and getting him a bowl of ramen? 

God, her eyes were just…Opened now, weren’t they? That terrified Zelly. As an EMT she saw a lot of gruesome things that she could never unsee, but she eventually grew desensitized to it. But Rowan and these Borrower (she still had no idea what that meant) had been living right under her nose this whole time…how many were there? Were there other things like fairies that were real too? And all of those scars on his body…were those by accident? Or did someone inflict those upon him?

“You’re spiraling, babe,” Zelly noted quietly to herself as she felt the anxiety rising. She needed something to keep her busy. And while she sorely doubted there was a WikiHow that would help her reconcile her new reality, she still wanted to give it a shot.

So she fished out her phone and frantically typed with it held above her face at arm’s length. First she searched for Borrowers—that’s what Rowan called himself after all, so it seemed appropriate to start there. Nothing came up, though she wasn’t really surprised. She screwed up her lips and tried Little Men next, but only an old-as-dirt book from the 1800’s that apparently was the sequel to Little Women. Interesting! But still useless.

No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find anything that matched Rowan’s description. She tried Googling fairies, leprechauns, Pikmin, tiny-little-elf-men…

Nothing.

And while she got close, everything she found missed the mark (though it didn’t help that she would find herself aimlessly scrolling through Instagram without realizing it at times). Her anxiety now mixed with frustration. Surely she couldn’t really be the first person to meet a Borrower before right? The weight of that implication was too much for her to really consider–she never asked for that burden of responsibility.

Zelly racked her brain for more possibilities. She hadn’t tried pixies yet, right? She was three letters in, and a migraine began to blossom right behind her eyes. A string of colorful swears tumbled past tired lips as she stopped typing. 

“This is pointless,” she murmured to herself. She kept her phone lifted as she closed her eyes to just try and focus on her breathing. She could hear the distant squawking of a mediocre marching band, the splashing of unseen cannonballs, and the laughter of children amidst the anxious yells of fretting parents.

Why did it have to be her?

Before Zelly could bemoan her fate further, her phone vibrated and slipped through her fingers. It dropped and smacked her square in the face—a nonsensical cocktail of profanity and anatomical slang was her only response after a brief yelp of surprise. She sat up with a humiliated huff before answering the phone.

“S-Sup?” Zelly ran her fingers through her hair and prayed she could keep the nervousness out of her voice. She hadn’t even checked who’d called her anyways…

//Hey babe!// It was Nikol. //Sup? You okay?//

“Yup,” Zelly lied with a smile. She knew she couldn’t be honest with how she was really feeling, but her reality was too insane to admit at the moment, “Toooooooooootally fine. What about you?"

There was a pause. //Oh, cool! I was worried. Are you still comin’? I thought we were grabbing Starbucks?//

Realization hit Zelly like a truck. Nikol was the whole reason she found Rowan in the first place—her silly little “mental illness Starbucks trip.” It was the reason why she was able to save him from the jaws of her neighbor’s cat.

“Oh shit, I-” Zelly gasped. “Dude, I TOTALLY spaced! I’m so sorry!”

She chewed her lip as she entertained the notion of telling Nikol.

On the one hand, Nikol was her best friend—Nikol knew EVERYTHING about Zelly. But on the other hand, she couldn’t violate Rowan’s privacy. That poor man had clearly been through a lot. And while she did trust Nikol to keep a secret, it didn’t feel right to talk about Rowan without his consent.

“Something came up,” Zelly replied as guilt gripped her gut. “S-Sorry baby girl. I hate to bail on you like this, I just…have to take care of something. Rain check?”

//For sure, no worries. Do what you gotta do. Just let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?//

Zelly licked her lips, her heart beat heavily in her throat. “Y-Yeah, for sure. Thanks dude. I’ll, um…I’ll text you when I can, alright?”

//Sounds good. Mwuah.//

Zelly echoed the affection before hanging up. She let the phone drop to the floor before ruffling her hair with a restrained groan.

Now what?

—

Zelly held her breath as she peered around the corner back into the kitchen. There was a 50% chance the guy just bolted while she was away (wouldn’t be the first time), but to her surprise Rowan hadn’t left.

Since she’d been gone, he’d climbed out of the shot glass and hung his boots to dry along the rim of the glass. Meanwhile, the man knelt quietly on the countertop with his head bowed and eyes closed. Unlike Zelly, Rowan was remarkably calm–which was shocking, given how much worse his day had been in comparison. Sunlight poured through the kitchen window and washed over him as he held his microfiber cloak reverently in his hands.

She caught herself staring again. 

Zelly tried to keep her approach deft as she crept into the kitchen, lest she startle him. She spied his ruined shirt and a teeny satchel over by the obnoxiously bright orange Gatorade cap she had filled with some water for him to drink while she was away.

The closer she got to him, the more she found herself marveling again. And she wasn’t sure why.

“H-Hey,” Zelly croaked as she finally got within arm’s reach. She jumped as Rowan scooted back with a start, his eyes snapped open with wild surprise—he dropped a hand and went for one of his thumb tack daggers. When he saw it was Zelly however, his demeanor shifted. He took the cloak in his lap and in a single, fluid motion threw it around his shoulders and wrapped it in such a way that it fell like an impromptu poncho to cover his scarred chest.

“S-Sorry!” Zelly took a step back in reply, her hands raised. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“N-No no,” Rowan murmured bashfully. “The apology is mine, I would have covered up had I known you were there. I was just, ah…”

His voice trailed off before he cleared his throat. “Never mind. Forgive me.”

“You’re fine dude,” Zelly chuckled softly. “It’s not like you’re the first guy I’ve seen shirtless, so…”

Rowan didn’t reply. She wasn’t quite sure if he was spacing out or still feeling the fatigue of the heat exhaustion, but he still didn’t look great. When was the last time he ate? Originally she came in ready to learn all about him and his world, but now…that didn’t seem nearly as important.

“How hungry are you?”

Rowan looked up with bleary eyes. “Sorry?”

“How hungry are you?” Zelly repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Rowan looked somewhere between confused and conflicted. After a pregnant moment of hesitation, he shook his head. “‘Twill be alright. I-“

“Yeah that’s bull,” she teased. She realized that might’ve come off a bit harshly, but she didn’t back down—she knew she was right. “Do you have any allergies?”

Rowan looked bewildered. “No, but I-“

That was all she needed. With a nod, Zelly grabbed her phone and pulled up GrubHub. She leaned up against the counter, but kept Rowan visible right in her periphery. “Swag, I’m ordering Greek then.”

“W-What do you...?” Exasperation crept into Rowan’s voice as he moved to stand. He couldn’t even finish his question, he seemed too tired to bother, “But please, Miss Zelly, you do not have to worry about me. If this is too much of a hassle, rest assured I am fi-“

“It’s not a hassle.” She flashed him a smile as she got their order put together: two Deluxe Gyros (one lamb, one falafel. She wasn’t sure if Rowan was a vegetarian or not), some fried pita served with a couple sides of tzatziki sauce, and some sweet potato fries. Most of this stuff would be MASSIVE compared to him, but she hoped it would be a nice spread of some mild food that Rowan could pick at while also making sure he didn’t eat himself sick.

“Besides—” Zelly dropped down slightly so she could be at eye-level with Rowan. He took an instinctual step back, but he didn’t seem overly surprised by the sudden motion. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she hit the order button, “—the order’s been placed, they’ll be on their way!”

“I…do not understand,” Rowan furrowed his brow, looking from her to her phone. Borrowers probably didn’t have phones, huh? Well, that was a question for another time.

“Look dude,” Zelly huffed after noticing his conflicted expression. “I’m starving. And if I’m starving that means you sure as hell are. You can try and be big, tough, macho-man or whatever, but there’ll be plenty for both of us. And I’ll feel a lot better when I know you’ve eaten, okay?”

Rowan seemed to sense that this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. “Thank you, Miss Zelly. I appreciate your generosity. Though I do feel guilty…”

Zelly put a hand up on the counter and grinned. “Well don’t then, that’s stupid. I’m offering you food.”

“You wanted answers, correct?” Rowan asked. “And I promised not to leave before I gave them, but I did not mean to impose and force you to provide food.”

“First of all, I wasn’t forced,” she pointed out. “Second, I mean…yeah. I do have questions. But they can wait.”

Zelly pursed her lips. She could spy the burned tissue peeking out from what his cloak couldn’t cover on his chest.

“You’ve been through a helluva lot,” she breathed, her gaze returning to Rowan’s. “And I want to help—even if it means getting us some takeout. So yeah, don’t worry–I can wait.”

Rowan’s expression was conflicted. There was frustration, but the exhaustion seemed to outweigh it…and even for the briefest of moments, he looked grateful. Zelly smiled.

This she could do.

…

…

Basil was disgustingly sober.

Were it not for his fast, he would’ve been nursing his brewing frustration with a frothy pint. The day was blistering, and the prospects of good work were few. Clip had gathered some scavenging listings from the Carvers League in town, and the rest of their crew had split off for the afternoon. 

Wanting to get out of the sun, the pair ducked into The Lively Priest. And though Basil quietly hoped he could relish in the second-hand revelry of others, he was met with the sleepy, boring atmosphere of a handful of farmers and travelers just looking to grab some shade and water. They’d grabbed a corner table and he’d been forced to settle on iced water while Clip barely touched his ale. 

The Freewalker’s mind wandered as he tuned out the insistent rustling of leaflets as his companion did his research. He peered over the scrawny Borrower’s shoulder to see if he couldn’t find a little entertainment. There was a trio of merchants from the Cherrycliffs who had come in not too long ago who were just sitting at the counter silently signing to one another. Closer towards the entrance, the chef spoke with a baby faced courier who wore the colors of House Silver.

But what really caught his attention was the waitress.

She was a beautiful, ageless Faofolk with literal porcelain skin and curves chiseled in all the right places. She glided gracefully, her feet clinked against the wooden floor as she moved. She was a pretty little dancer, and Basil was confident he could get her spinning to his new tune.

The rustling stopped.

“No.”

Basil sneered, his eyes snapping back to Clip. His partner knew what was on his mind, and it made his blood boil. “Do your job.”

Clip sighed as he peeled back from his papers and splayed both hands. “I am–in fact, I believe I found myself doing BOTH of our jobs. Sometimes I feel like I should be in charge of the crew–you barely do jackdreg while I’m the one stuck doin’ all the REAL work.” 

Basil picked up his empty plastic mug and tipped it back. The teeny trickle of melted water did little to whet his appetite, so he took up a bit of ice and chewed it.

“Skies yer annoying,” was the best retort the giant of a Borrower could muster. “Just read the damn papers and get us somethin’ GOOD this time.”

“The last job was good,” Clip insisted with a pointed glare. “300 notes got us three meals, yeah?”

“The last job was sifting through bodies,” Basil’s lips curled back with a sneer. He leaned back till his chair groaned beneath him. His skin crawled as he remembered the stench of the dead and picking bloodsoaked pockets. “I want somethin’ with riches–not whatever skuggin’ cud Ash was suckin’ on.” 

“Careful for how you speak of the dead,” his companion warned him as he picked up his own mug for a careful sip–the ungrateful man didn’t even seem to enjoy his drink. “Clan Ash was snuffed out violently, I doubt their spirits are at peace…”

Basil ignored the superstitious warning. “Listen, I wanna snag a BIG job this time! I wanna rub shoulders with the ELITE like the Silvers and Blooms–not with the molderin’ dead and mumblin’ priests.”

He swirled around the crushed ice as he mused. “How ‘bout a job with arcana? Courtiers pay good for that junk, right?”

His companion’s expression turned grave. Clip took a longer sip on his spirits this time, “Nothing good ever comes from titanis arcana, boss–and you know it.”

Clip shot a careful glance at Basil’s empty mug of ice. “‘Sides, don’t your people have taboos on even touching it?”

Basil’s blood boiled as his stomach growled. He slammed the mug down–a faint crack spidered up the side. It caused enough noise to prompt the Faofolk waitress to jump and shoot him a glare. Despite his infatuation prior, the Freewalker now had little care for the brittle woman at the moment–Clip had poked the hornet’s nest.

“Like I care what the ‘Walkers think,” he spat. “Who cares about skuggin’ taboos when you could eat? Tell me bud, when was the last time you ate? Not crust, not rat–but ate REAL food?”

Clip hesitated.

“Exactly,” Basil replied with a huff, his syllables coated with crushed ice. “Harvests ain’t yieldin’ what the use’ta, and the Crown’s taxes are drainin’ us dry. …I say we go big. Just cuz arcana is a bitter dreg for some, don’t mean it hasta be for hardworkin’ guys like us–know what I’m sayin’? So how ‘bout we get on that cricket first, and snag a big payout while we can?”

The seconds ticked. Eventually, Clip sighed. “Well…there is one job we could try…” A crooked grin split across Basil’s face.

“Adda boy,” the Freewalker rumbled.

Clip carefully rummaged through the pile before drawing out a surprisingly clean piece of paper. He gave it a once over before pushing it towards Basil with his fingertips. It had pretty, useless filigree along the edges and a picture which Clip tapped.

It was an unremarkable piece of arcana: a thin, boring rectangle. And while the diagram indicated it had a sheath that could slide back to reveal yet another, smaller square hidden inside, he sneered at how shockingly simple Titans could be.

“‘S’all?” Basil demanded. “What the Sky’s shite is that suppose’ta be?”

“The Faofolk call it a Youesbee,” Clip shrugged. “Dunno much beyond that…only that some newly wedded noble wants one, and he is willin’ to pay a queen’s coffer for it.”

“How much we talkin’?” Basil huffed. “I know of some pretty poor queens…”

“Fifteen hundred notes.”

Basil balked. “Bullscrap.”

Clip shook his head. “Like I said…queen’s coffer. Dunno what is so important ‘bout it—but he wants one. Now the trick is finding one… ’s’not something you would find just anywhere.”

Basil tapped his finger against the mug. His mind swam with ideas of where to look, but one particularly colorful and bright domain stood out. He’d seen plenty of arcana there before…

“I think I know a place,” he smirked. “Get hungry, bud–we’re eatin’ good tonight.

#g/t #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #g/t writing #sfw g/t writing #wholesome giantess #gentle giantess #The Borrowers #Borrowers!AU #Borrower x Streamer #Offline Valor #ogtoc Rowan #ogtoc Zelly #HA I don't care if it's midnight imma post this NOW #this is still on a technical hiatus #but the creative juices were flowing enough that we got to this point<3 #also we HAD to introduce The Goons eventually #so meet Basil and Clip<3 #wonder what this Youesbee thing is huh

[the-kaedageist]

COMPLETE: by and by we’ll defy (a little bit of gravity)

Here it is - few days late, and likely jossed, but the Uk’otoa fic that I’ve been working on for over a year is finally done and completely posted, coming in at over 48k words and filled with a ton of ridiculousness. I hope you all enjoy!!

Please note: I haven’t even watched yet, so I can safely promise that this fic contains no spoilers for the twoshot

by and by we’ll defy (a little bit of gravity) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Words: 48,497 Rating: M Summary: “So what do you say?” Jester asked. Essek tore his gaze from Caleb’s. “Are we doing this, Mighty Nein?”

“FUCK yeah,” Beau exclaimed from where she sat curled up in a booth with Yasha, two tables away and blatantly eavesdropping. “Let’s fuck up this sea snake!”

Essek smiled with the resignation of a man who had already decided he would follow these people to the ends of Exandria.

“Let us destroy this demigod,” he said. “What better task for the Mighty Nein?”

#critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #the mighty nein #shadowgast fic #critical role fanfic #my fics #the uk'otoa fic #it's finally done!!! #hallelujah!

[abbatoirablaze]

Burning Up, Chapter 4

Word Count:  1.6k

Warnings:  implied smut, sexual tension, mentions of smut/genetalia

“You know it actually makes you look quite distinguished,” you giggled, your fingertips gently tracing over the still pink, fresh scar on his brow, “makes you look like a real tough guy, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” he teased, his own fingers tracing the rim of his beer bottle as you leaned towards his face, “you really think so beautiful?”

“Oh yeah,” you giggled as you leaned in a little bit more, “if I didn’t know any better I’d guess you were some big bad biker, not my teddy bear of a firefighter.”

Curtis felt a warmth radiate in his chest, “your firefighter?”

A blush rose to your own cheeks as you processed your words.  You bit your lip and sat back down on your own bar stool.  Your hands fell away from his face and into your lap, “I-I’m sorry, I-“

“Your firefighter,” he repeated, the smallest of smiles turning bigger and brighter with each passing second, “you want me to be your firefighter, baby?”

Your own embarrassment faded as you gently bit down on your lower lip and nodded, “of course I do, Curtis…”

“Well…I mean, if you want to be my girl, I think it’s only right that I get to kiss you,” he offered sweetly as his eyes flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, “that is…if you want me to…”

“More than anything!”

His hands fell away from his beer bottle and snaked across the top of the bar, only to stop once they landed in your lap, “you sure about that?”

“Yes,” you managed to rasp out, “of course, Cur-“

Your words were cut short.  As you managed to get out your first word, his hands reached up and cupped your face, his own coming in close.  By the time you’d begun to say his name his lips had already crashed against yours, the sweet, romantic air around the two of you finally coming to a quick, lustful head.

You melted against him, instantly surprised at how soft his lips truly were.  A shiver ran down your spine as you felt like your world was sparking to life as your lips worked in tandem.  You moaned against his lips, and his tongue snuck it’s way into your mouth, exploring you with every available action he could use.

“We should get out of here, sweetheart,” Curtis said breathlessly as he pulled away.  You, still locked in the afterglow of your first kiss with the giant of a man nodded as he tossed a few bills on the bar’s counter and pulled you out of the hole in the wall joint, “my place or yours?”

“Wherever you want!”

“Well would you look who finally showed back up!”

Curtis felt a blush rising onto his cheeks as he stalked into the station. 

“I’ve been having Everett here cover on B shift so that he could spend some more time around his girl,” Cap smirked, nudging the firefighter, “how is the sweet little thing you’ve been hanging around with?  Chief said that she’s been hanging out with Laurie a lot…even spotted her at my house one of the afternoons she was off and you were covering…turns out she’s got a lot in common with my wife too.”

“Trying to use your girl to inch up the pole their, Everett?” Bucky, Steve’s best friend, and fellow firefighter teased, “getting a woman on the inside, there?”

“It’s not like that,” Curtis replied gruffly, thinking about how sweet you were, still tired in his bed while he came back to A shift, “leave my princess alone there, Barnes.”

Bucky smirked as he messed with the components on his prosthetic, “whatever you say there, Everett.”

“Yeah, Everett wouldn’t bring a girl back to the station if she wasn’t worth it,” Johnny added as he tapped his friend’s chest, “so…did she ever go home after your first date two weeks ago, or have you kept the little minx tied to your bed?”

Curtis frowned, not happy with the blunt phrasing and openness of Johnny’s words, and how he was talking about you, “tread lightly, Storm.”

“You know what I mean,” the younger man offered, “I saw how googly eyed the two of you were when you took her out.  Hell.  We all did.”

“So how did the date go?” Reed asked curiously, “you never got the chance to tell us!”

Curtis’ heart had never felt more full than it was right now as he stared down at your sleeping form.  You were snuggled up in his arms, your face pressed right into his left pec, while your hand was draped close to your own face, right over his heart.

You looked so sweet, so small, tucked into his side. 

He had watched you softly breathing in and out for nearly ten minutes before you finally shifted.  His own eyes were quick to snap shut, against his better judgement, as he pretended to be asleep; hoping that if you thought he was asleep you wouldn’t want to move.

He heard a simple, soft sigh and he fought off the urge to smile. 

You seemed so content. 

He had to open his eyes. 

And when he did, he felt like he was going to melt straight into a puddle.  You were looking up at him with such admiration that it made his heart swell even more.

“You’re horrible at pretending that you’re still asleep.”

He looked at you, his mouth dropping slightly as he felt bewildered by your comment, “what?”

You giggled at the question, but the huskiness of his voice sent a shockwave down your spine and straight towards the apex between your thighs.  He felt the tangled limbs tighten, your thighs pressing together.  But you blushed when you realized that he must have felt what you did.

“If you knew I was faking it, why didn’t you point it out?”

“I wanted to see if you were going to pretend to wake up, or if you were just as excited to see me as I was to see you!” she admitted playfully, trying to change the subject, or at least steer it enough in a way that he wouldn’t question your previous action. 

“It feels like you were very excited to see me wake up…” he smiled, teasing you as his eyes stretched down towards the blanket. 

Your blush deepened, and spread down your neck and to the tops of your breasts.  You gasped when you felt his cock springing to life, the large appendage reminding you that he was just as attracted to you as you were to him.

“I-I don’t-I don’t normally do this…” you offered, stumbling over your words, “Sleep around, I mean.”

“I don’t either, baby.”

His hands slid down your body, his calloused, large hands caressing every curve of yours that he could.  Another shiver ran down your spine as he massaged the globes of your ass, “Curtis…”

“I want to make you feel good again, baby…” he said in a sultry tone as his oceanic eyes burned through your very soul.  You whimpered as he rolled both of you, so that you were beneath him.  His rock-hard appendage now pressing against your hip, your mouth parted as you felt your thighs beginning to quake. 

He leaned down and captured your lips with his own.  You reached up, your hands gently tugging at his short, cropped hair, “Curtis…”

“I want to make love to you again, baby…”

“Please.”

He groaned as his cock thudded gently against your inner thigh, the softness of it all making his own eyes flutter closed.  Your hand reached down and you began stroking him, guiding the large appendage towards your needy, wet hole. 

“EY.  Everett, snap the hell out of it, brother.”

Curtis’ jaw tightened as he was ripped from the memories of the morning after their first date, and every subsequent morning since then, including that one. 

“Knock it off, Johnny.”

“I’m not the one that looks like he’s about to be sporting some major wood in the next sixty seconds,” Johnny laughed.  He looked over to Curtis yet again, and his jeans were, noticeably tighter, “see…Everett’s thinking about something, and it isn’t fighting a fire.”

“Only thing he’s fighting is his jeans,” Ben commented with a laugh; the other large man on a shift laughed, “come on, Everett.  This is a place of work, not for you to get your jollies off.”

“Come on now boys, ease off, Everett.  He’s jus-“

“Baby!”

You smiled as you stood at the entrance of the station’s main floor.  Curtis felt the instinctual urge to be near you.  In one hand you held his lunchbox.  In the other, was a covered platter, “you forgot your lunch…and the treats I made for the station.”

A blush rose to his cheeks as he thought about the ‘dessert’ he’d devoured nearly an hour ago.  A blush rose onto your cheeks as well as you eyed his jeans for a moment before looking to his fellow brethren, “I made cupcakes…Laurie said that it was going to be Johnny’s birthday tomorrow, but I have that work thing-“

“The conference…” he said quickly, nodding along to your story, “yeah.  I remember you saying you weren’t going to be home when I got off bec-“

“Home?” Johnny teased, “what, Everett, you move your girl in already?”

“Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled, shushing the other men.  He took a few steps forward and grabbed the cupcakes out of your hand, “let’s give the lovebirds the floor.  Thanks for the sweet treats, kid.”

“Yeah…yeah, of course, Cap…”

“Keep this one around, Everett,” Bucky called after Steve, already digging into the plate of treats and shoving a whole cupcake nearly into his mouth, “she-s agreatcook!”

“Hey those are my birthday cupcakes!” Johnny protested, following the rest of the men until it was just you and Curtis, “EY, GIVE EM UP, CAP! COME ON BARNES!”

Chapter 5

Tag List:  @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @lohnes16, @wintasssoldier

#burning up #firefighter curtis everett #firefighters #curtis everett #snowpiercer #snowpiercer au #chris evans characters

[casuallivi]

TTYLTOYD chapter 4

Words: 5399

Enjoy, comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 4: The Chaotic Dreams of a Defiant Lady

The knowledge of one’s fate is a tricky thing.

By knowing your fate, you may try to avoid it. By trying to avoid it, you may set in motion the exact events that allow such fate to happen.

.

.

.

“There’s no one here.”

Elain had her eyes closed, listening to the waves crashing down, water getting closer and closer to her feet. Trying to drag her away. She breaths in and out, the tang of salt going down her nose, tickling her tongue.

“There’s no one here.” The voice is bored. Uninterested.

She moves. Hot sand squishing under her bare feet with every step she takes. Elain walks for an endless period of time. Walking, walking, walking. Until the sound of the ocean is gone and life grows quiet. So, so, quiet. The sun goes down, the sun goes up. It’s day and it’s night. Then is nothing. Darkness trail her steps, shadows whispering to her ears –a cacophony of hissing and sibiling that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She can’t understand a thing. Elain feels eerie, yet, she’s not afraid of them for they keep her company. She is everywhere and nowhere. She sees a void in the back of her mind. She feels the void. A void so dark it morphs into pure white light. She blinks. Sand is slowly replaced by stone, stone is replaced by shades of green and brown and bright blue sky.

She is deep, deep, deep inside a forest. An ancient tree, planted in between a fork on the pathway, greets her. Its trunk is larger than she is tall, taller than anything she have ever seen, roots spreading over and underground, branches spreading towards the sky, extending infinitely above and beyond, sizzling with energy. So many choices. Elain caresses the light tree trunk, curious about the peculiar milky color, flinching when her finger rasp in something sharp. She sucks on it. A drop of her blood falling on the exposed roots above the ground, quickly being absorbed. The tree shudders, the earth shakes, the trunk morphs into a deep red-brown.

Elain’s breath quickens. In the distance, she hears the sad howling of…something.

A flash of white and red scurry to the right.

“Follow the fox, Elain!” The voice urges her.

A branch snaps to the left, catching her attention. There’s no way to see what lies in the end of that road, for there is where the void is. She feels him. Feel the cell where sunlight doesn’t reach, a place nestled in the stone walls, thick iron bars trapping an innocent, killing his innocence. Elain takes a step. The sky rumbles in answer, angry fat clouds screaming in thunder. She ignores it, fallen leaves crunching beneath her, louder the closer she gets. A thin layer of sweat tricks down her neck, her eyes widening at the view.

It was never a void.

Shadows.

Not the usual ones, but living shadows, breathing creatures born of darkness, swarming and filling the space. She could tell they would do anything to protect who was on the end of that road, to keep the treats away from him. Elain shivered. She didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that fury. At least they didn’t seem to bother with her, because with each step Elain took forward, the shadows took one backwards, as if they were opening a path to her. She can’t see him in the darkness, but she knows he’s staring at her. Always watching. Cautious. Calculating.

She halts. “Are you scared?”

The answer comes without a breath of hesitation.

“I’m the one who scares.”

Elain snorts at the smile in his voice, the response losing its fierce purpose.  She crouches in front of the cell, searching for the keyhole. There’s none. Frustrated, she shakes the bars, using all her might in attempt to do some damage. Feeling weak, she touches the tip of her ears. Round.

“Why are you locked?”

He pushes a rock to her between the bars, shadows veiling his form completely.

“Why are you free?”

“I’m not.” Her smile is sad. True jokes are hardly funny. She lifts her arms to slam the sharp rock against the bars.

“Stop it.” The sibilant hiss makes her stop at once. It’s not gentle like his voice. It’s metallic, dripping with authority, hindering her movements. She knows that voice well. “That’s not where I sent you, Elain.”

+

Her skirt swished around her ankle. Up, up, up. Fear climbs behind her. Paralyzing fear trying to snatch her. Up, up, up. Stone steps, stone walls, stone ceiling, going round and round inside a tower. How many steps are there? She can't see from here. It doesn't matter, she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. Elain feels tired. She wants it to stop. All of it. When she rounds another corner, Elain sees herself. She completely naked, sitting on the steps, elbows resting on her knees, eyes purely white. She takes one look at Elain and tsks, shaking her head.

“Give it time.” The Seer recommends. “Time heals all things.”

Elain steps over her, continuing to climb. The Seer has the freedom which Elain desperately longs for. It makes her bitter. What of me? She wants to ask. Will time heal me?

The laughter that follows her in response brings chills to her spine. "We are time, marlena. An endless river flowing to merge, and fuse, and separate –creating past, present and future."

Elain reaches a door.

She pushes it open and is momentarily blind by sunlight.

+

“Look.”

“Look, child.”

Elain is holding a fox.

Cradling the fluffy animal as his red fur tickles her nose, feelings the delicate heartbeat against her skin. There’s a red collar around the fox’ neck. She sighs, lifting the red chain of the necklace around her own. The jewelry vibrates and pulses in a rhythm she can’t identify. The fox scratches the collar. Elain has long learned how to ignore it. They won’t be able to take it off for as long as they live, and when of them dies, the other will live on with the whisper of who once was there. A cruel joke. A wicked fate.

The fox is looking at her, his russet eyes shining with expectation. There’s pain there, echoing in her soul, pain that wasn’t caused by her. Elain can’t heal the fox. The fox can’t heal her. I’m sorry. I can’t take care of you. The words don’t leave her mouth, her voice doesn’t come out, but the fox listen, the fox knows. She tries to open her arms, let go of him. Her body doesn’t obey. Instead she finds herself hugging the animal tighter, kissing his fur, whispering words she doesn’t mean. The fox licks her face and she see teeth. Sharp teeth that can rip a thin necklace with ease.

What if you take mine and I take yours? She thinks suddenly. The fox huffs, its tongue sticking out. Happy. We’ll help each other, you and I. Is not a cure, but it can be freedom.

Freedom to heal.

Freedom to live.

Freedom do love.

+

Reality crack and crumbles like the pieces of a mirror shattering, a deafening high pitch coming from everywhere.

Why, why, why do you insist in challenging me!? The dark sibilant hiss takes her back in time. Back to the Archeron Manor. Back to a mother who never liked her. Not really.

+

“Why, why, why do you insist in challenging me?!!” Her mother drags her inside by the ear, the flesh red and swollen from being pinched for so long. Mud splatters on the expensive imported carpet. Her mother rages. “I told you not to go outside! Playing with the help like a filthy commoner, getting your knees skinned. How’ll you find a suitable husband with scars? Forget staying with your sisters, I ought to send you to a boarding school. They’ll teach you manners there!”

She opened the door to Elain’s room with violence, wood crashing on the wall as she hauls her daughter to the attached bathroom. “Get inside this instant,” she pointed at the foot tub, turning her attention to the handmaid that followed them inside with hurried steps, her head down. “You! Scrub her raw. I want her skin white as porcelain by the time the piano teacher gets here.”

“Yes ma’am.” The handmaid did a low courtesy as her mother left without looking at her twice.

The maid pulls the dress over her head and places Elain inside the tub, slowly taking of the pins of her messy hair. Her lips quivered, her voice finding a way out. “I’m not a kid anymore.” This is not real. This is just a memory. She repeated over and over again.

The maid looks at her with glazed eyes. When she speaks, her voice is different, deeper. “Oh, but you are. You are my child.” That voice. Elain shrunk back. The Cauldron’s voice had the same tone as Graysen’s, distorted into a wicked metallic version as if nails were being scratched on glass.

Elain looks forward, pretending to not have listen. She just has to ignore it and everything is going to be just fine. A soft wind ruffled her tangled hair. The made pulls her hair back, caress her forehead.

“My beautiful creation.”

“I’m not your creation! I was born. Born from a mother and a father.” she sharply retorted.

“No blemish or imperfection.” She continuous as if Elain hadn’t spoken at all. “My flawless creation. I poured so much into you. A powerful gift. A powerful mate. What an amazing offspring you give me.” Elain covers her ears, desperate to stop the words that ringed around her. “I’ll let you be happy, if that’s what you are worried about. You are my child, after all. No father wishes their children to be unhappy. Let me show you.”

The maid pushes her head under water, ignore Elain’s feeble struggles to break free.

Elain holds her breath the best she can before water finds its way into her lungs.

She can’t breathe.

Elain drowns.

+

"This was my mother's."

Lucien pressed the pocket watch in her hand, his skin warm and inviting. He was consistently warmer than her. "It was a gift from her mother, who received as a gift from her mother, and on and on and on. In her family it is considered a bad omen to pass family heirlooms to the first born, so they go to the second. Even though my mom never had any daughters, she gave me the heirloom, told me to gift it to my wife.” Russet and gold filled with emotion, locked on her brown eyes. “She said this way her daughter would have it.”

The watch was small and delicate, no wider than a coin, sitting shinny in the middle of her hand. Elain turned it in her palm, watching the intricated pattern of vines in the back. She clicked on the top button and the lid fell open, revealing a flame designed behind the number. “Is not ticking.”

Lucien let out a small laugh. “I know, I’m sorry about that. It stopped working a while back and I couldn’t fix it. I tried everything, from alternative batteries to magic energy, nothing worked. I hope this doesn’t disappoint you too much.”

“Has it done this before?”

“What?”

“Stopped.”

“Yes. I was always able to fix it in the past. It must be too old now.”

“When did it happened?”

“Hm?”

“When did it stop?”

He held her face in his hands, stepping closer. “Time stopped when you accepted me.”

"That doesn't sound like a good thing," Elain voiced unsure, frowning at the heirloom, her throat constricted at the ominous creeping in the back of her neck.

Sighing, Lucien lifted her face, demanding attention.

"I think is a sign from the Mother. She’s telling me the passage of time doesn’t matter when we are together.” He vowed and kissed her. Her eyes remained opened. You are wrong. She wanted to tell him. We are stuck in time, you and I. That's why it stopped.

She blinked and the ambiance changed.

+

Elain was crouching to be on the same level of little girls surrounding her. The melodic sound of violins filling the place with a nice cozy vibe, the guest moving about the room in elegant dresses and suits. Parents were engaged in light conversation over flutes of Champaign, while the kids ran out and about. The boys were making all sorts of battle noises, playing with toy swords, the girls playing in the gigantic princess castle assembled by her boys. Elain redid the messy bow on the back of Rebekah’s dress, then readjusted the tiara on top of Adriana’s head.

“Thank you!” They screeched in unison, running back to the other girls.  

A concerned Adelaide appeared, holding her skirt to keep up with the girl she was chasing.

“Lady Lily! Please don’t run my lady. You’ll trip.” she stressed.

Elain turned in time for Lily to jump in her arms, almost knocking her down.

“Lily!” Adelaide cried covering her mouth, scandalized with the lack of decorum.

“It’s okay Addie, I got her.” Elain calmed the governess, hugging her daughter before putting her down. “You look so pretty!” Lily’s loud laugh echoed in the great ballroom as Elain twirled her around, her golden curls bouncing under the tiara, the layers of the puffed green dress swirling. “Mother above, who is this precious princess? Where is my Lily?” she exaggerated a gasp, peppered her face with kisses.

“I’m here mama!” the little girl squealed throwing her arms around Elain’s leg. Then she screamed, “papa!” and dashed away.  

Elain turned to see Lucien walking in the room.

Her mate appeared to be in deep discussion with the four austere males who followed him, probably dumping more court related problems on his shoulders. Elain doubted they could spend one day without stressing, not even the six-years-old birthday party could stop politics from being a priority. Her eyes went back to her daughter, who slowed down and stopped in front of Lucien’s aid to do a gracious courtesy.  

“Good evening my lords.” She said to her father’s companions, making Elain smile.

Her father had a serious face.

“Liliana, what have Addie told you about running?”

“…That a lady should not run.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because… because she can trip on her dress. But I was just running to get here papa, I swear!” She complemented with a pout. “I missed you, papa.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Lucien’s face melted in a smile, and he picked his daughter up. “I missed you too, my princess. And I saw you running to your mother.” He kissed her cheek and ruffled the top of hair.

Lily screamed. “No papa, my crown!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Lucien was trying to put her crown back in place when a pair of sticky hand tugged his pants, saying, “Me too, me too!”

He looked down to find his son asking to be picked up. Contrary to his daughter, whose curls were perfectly in place, held back from her face with a pretty crown adorned with emeralds, Elliot’s dark hair was ruffled, his mouth smeared with chocolate, brown eyes sparkling with glee. “How many pieces of cake did you had, buddy?” Lucien perched his daughter on one arm, making space for his boy.

“Four!” Elliot promptly offered, making the number with sticky fingers.

“Four? That’s impressive!” he congratulated his son, his chest filled with joy as he made his way to his mate.

His twins were the perfect copy of Elain, the most beautiful kids he had ever seen. Sometimes he could not believe how his life turned out like this. Lucien never imagined that he would become a father so quickly, especially a father of so many. Yet, he loved it. He loved to be a father, and for that he was forever grateful for Elain. For giving him children.

“You look beautiful.” He greeted her, winning a tug from his daughter.

“And me, papa?”

“You look beautiful as well, my princess.”

“You two are too big to be carried by father.” A beautiful redheaded female approached the family with a smile in her red painted lips.

Her eyes carried the same austere blue of her aunt Nesta. The sheer black dress with a long thigh slit showing her preference for Night Court fashion, to her father’s dismay. Lucien didn’t approve of her wardrobe, but he had learned that asking her to change was fruitless. She was an Archeron, and those were a stubborn brand of females.

Elain fixed her daughter crooked earring. “You had their age once, Ellaria. I remember you wouldn’t leave you father’s lap.”

“That was hundreds of years ago mom, I’m a grown female now.” Her hair was styled in a braid similar to her father’, golden rings adorning the loops. She tossed it to the side, holding the pose for exact five seconds before running to her father, hugging him and the twins. “Happy Birthday your little snots! Hi papa, I’ve missed you.”

.

.

.

Elain jolted from bed with a cry, her body tangled in the sheets, patting herself desperately. Dry. She stumbled away from the bed, kicking the cover that hung around her legs, the cold wood floor causing discomfort on her heated skin. A dream. It was just a dream. For a moment she thought she was drowning, not in a tub, but inside the cauldron, choking with the black water filling her lungs. With a shaky breath, she looked at the sunlight poring from the cracked window, eyes roaming to the faded purple peeling from the walls, taking a while to recognize where she was.

The one-bedroom apartment on top of Stardust Bakery was a far cry from her opulent bedroom in the River House. The first time she stepped inside, Elain was reminded of the cottage where she spent most of her youth – a fancier version of it, with running water coming out from the faucets, a fancy invention called “shower”, and faelights that allowed her to have light anytime she wished. Stuck in poverty with two sisters and a cripple father had made their cottage feel suffocating. Now, standing alone in a similar place made her feel different. Freer. But also, lonely.

"What do you think?" Mellinda had asked her with apprehension. She had put the place to rent, but when elain asked about it, she insisted it was not suitable for someone of high status as her, only agreeing to show it to her after Elain pestered her friend nonstop. “I don’t know whose idea was to put this terrible purple on the wall. The bedroom is this way,” she pushed a creaking door and Elain looked around, “the windows are cracked, one of them doesn’t even have a frame anymore. I kept telling my self I would fix it, but now the bakery is keeping me busy all the time.” She wrung her apron, nervous. “Forget it, I don’t think you should live here. Let’s search for somewhere better, I’ll help you look–”

“I love it.” Elain interrupted her chaotic ramble.

Mellinda turn around to see Elain going back to the kitchen.

"You do?"

"Yes!” she approached the kitchen sink, turning the tap on. “The water is coming in nicely."

"Yeah, the water is fine, but the window in the bedroom... I worry about you at night, winter is upon us.”

"I don't care about that. I can put the mattress on this room and move right away! Fix the stuff as I go."

Mellinda watched her friend run around, already scratching plans for the place. She scratched her head. Elain was an odd one. Malinda could not imagine trading the luxurious residency of the High Lord for this.

"Elain."

"Hm?"

"Are you sure you want to move out? Move here?”

Elain stared down the window, watching the busy streets of the market.

Twice she had tried to move out and failed.

The first time she tried to bring the subject to light, Feyre got sick. Elain knocked on Feyre’s door to hear her painful moans coming from the bathroom, her little sister hunched over the toilet, vomiting her guts out. When she was done, Elain helped her back to bed.

“Feyre, what’s wrong?”

“I’m never eating sea food again.” She complained slipping under the covers. Four days ago, Rhys convinced her to try a new restaurant where the menu consisted mostly of raw fish. He swore it was delicious, Feyre tried a couple of bites and hated. Now she was sick to death.

Elain sat beside her, rubbing her belly under the cover. Feyre moaned, pushing her hand away and running back to the bathroom. Retching violently. When Elain got up, the bedroom disappeared, replaced by the kitchen on the mountain cabin. She crouched to open the cabinet lower door, holding a small blanket.

“Where is he?”

“No, no, no!” She heard Feyre screaming as chubby legs dashed by her fast as a bolt, desperately trying to climb the steps. Feyre beat him to it. “No sir, no stairs for you.”

Elain gasped. Her finger clutching the bathroom doorframe, leaving fingerprints dented on the wood.

“You’re pregnant.” She chocked. Her sister staring at her with wide smudged eyes.

The second time was when Nesta claimed independence. Elain knew something was off. Her sudden decision was nothing but a pretty excuse to isolate herself. Nesta was different, distant. She never talked about what they did in the war, never talked about father, never talked about being made. Elain wanted to go with her, her sister quickly brushing her offer to the side.

“Let me go with you.” Elain pleaded for the fifth time.

“Stay with Feyre.”

“Feyre has Rhys. I want to go with you so won’t be alone.”

“What’s wrong with being alone?” Nesta asked defensively.

“Nothing. I just think right now we should,”

Nesta cut her with a glare, “Forget it Elain, you’re not coming. It’s an old building with no garden to tend. You’ll be bored out of your mind.” A presumptuous argument that Elain pretend not to understand. She did a lot of pretending those days. “Stay with Feyre. We talked, and decided that it’s better for you to stay here. She will take care of you.”

“I’m sure.” Elain answered at last.

Her sisters often failed to notice that she wasn’t a kid anymore, there was no need to take turns taking care of her. The memory left a sour taste in her mouth. I didn’t matter, she was living on her own now. Even if she had plans to fix the apartment until her new home had her face, Elain loved the place. Loved every imperfection of it, the old furniture, the faded colors, the cracks on the windows, the unpolished floor, even the morning noises coming from the market seemed charming to her. Some days Elain missed the ruckus of the River House, but living with a married couple was taking its tools on her sanity. It was getting harder to look into her little sister’s beaming face in the morning.

Lying flat on the floor, she closed her eyes, extended her legs and placed her hands over her stomach, assuming the familiar position. “In and out...in and out…” Elain told herself, looking back at the memory of her lessons.

At first, Elain hadn’t plan to do any kind of training with him – or anyone – since she had no interest in becoming a warrior. Her days were busy and gardening already provided her with more exercise than she actually like to do. By coincidence (or shadow interference) Azriel bumped into her in a book shop. Elain squinted at him, asking if he was following her. He said he wasn’t. She believed him.

While Velaris was going back to normalcy after the horrible war, Elain was trying to adapt to her new life, to the powers that came with it. In the beginning she avoided libraries while searching for material to interpret her visions, not wanting to discuss the subject with the eager circle. When Elain explain what she was looking for, Azriel promptly offered to help, a natural habit of his, stacking her arms with more books than she could carry, having the shadows deliver them at the house.

At the time, Elain was nervous. She didn’t want to get rid of her seer abilities because of how useful they had been so far, but she wanted to tame them. She needed to. Time flow different in her head. In the worse cases a vision would stretch for days without end, the seasons passing in front of eyes, vigilant months of agony that turned into years before she learned in reality, she had barely blinked. Her hazed eyes the only indication that her mind was far away for a few seconds.

Azriel said she needed to find an anchor to the present, a way to stabilize her mind here and now, that she should not feel pressure to unravel every vision as they came to her, comparing her hazed slumber to his unending reports. “Every information can be important for a specific cause, yes. But that doesn’t mean I have to read them all the same time. You control you vision Elain, not the contrary, remember that.  Learn to choose what you see. When you see it.”

He introduced her to meditation, encouraging her to lay down on the rug, close her eyes and take deep breaths. “In and out, flower. Relax your body and empty your mind.” He explained how meditation would help her to find an anchor, a trigger to tie her mind in the present, working as a door that allowed her to stay and watch or leave and return. Anything was valid.

The first couple of tries were a total failure, leaving her frustrated.

“What does it take for this to work?” she asked after several silent hours of yet another failing attempt. Azriel was lying beside her, so quiet Elain had rolled on her side twice, sticking her fingers under his nose to check if he was still breathing.

“Patience and silence,” he whispered, “lots of it.”

The room fell silent.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

Forty minutes.

“I thought about it, and I think I know what you’re doing.” Elain couldn’t help herself.

“What?” Azriel couldn’t help himself either.

“You’re using me to take a nap.”

His body curled with laughter, the hearty sound making her smile, the fit so big his wings stretched, nudging her. “Ah!” she yelped rolling away.

“Shit, are you okay? Let me see your head…”  

Their “sessions” began with a quota of formality that never lasted till the end. Azriel was a firm teacher, yes, but he was also gentle and patient, smiling at her attempts to slack off, amused with a few small complaints. He even joked and laughed at her expenses. Together, they quickly figured that Physical Touch was an easy anchor for her, one that worked ten times out of ten. Except that this anchor didn’t please her very much.

“I don’t know if I like this one.” she confessed apprehensively.

Azriel paused.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I fine with you, believe me. I trust you with my eyes closed,” she wiggled her brows, “quite literally. I just… I don’t want to keep depending on other. I want to be stronger.” Elain didn’t mind Azriel touching her, but Azriel wasn’t by her side all day long, no one was. All it took for Touching to be an unreliable crutch was she being alone. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. “Like my sisters.”

“You are.” Azriel’ proud tone didn’t escape her. “Let’s try something else. When the next wave comes, don’t wait for my touch,” he instructed. Elain relaxed her limbs, breathing deeply, his woody scent tickling her nose, calming her anxiety. “Think about the place you are, describe it in your mind. Furniture, shapes, color, smells, if there are people describe them too. Recall their clothes, conversation, mannerism. All that is information to keep you anchored, accurate as touching, without having you at the mercy of others. Sounds better?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Give it a try.”

Elain learned that her dreams and her visions had different meanings.

He vision weren’t unavoidable. The outcome could change if the person took a different course of action, made a different choice, but the visions would come to pass, they would come to happen. Her dreams were more twisted than that. Most of them about herself. Perfectly painted illusions, persistent fates trying to be imposed on her, delirious hopes of the cauldron, the plans the god had for her life. The kids he wanted from her.

Elain was familiar with the red hair beauty who she called Ellaria. Her first daughter was born during her first year of marriage. Three years later Elain gave birth to twin boys, Ellias and Mathias. It was a rarity to have kids so quickly amongst the fae, and twins nonetheless. All her children exhibited Lucien’ strong physical traits, except for the eyes. They had the stunning Archeron blue orbs that skipped her just to find her kids. Healers from every court petitioned to meet her. To study her. They called her an anomaly. Cauldron's favorite. The made mother.

"Three kids in four year my lady, three! The Court’s birth rate has grown too! Six times higher than any other! There was never such a high tax of birth before!” they would grin from ear to ear while she faked smiled. Inside she was crying. Of course more and more babies were born since she married. They were her children’s army.

Tonight, for the first time, the new twins came to her. Liliana and Elliot.

The first to look like her.

Why?

Was this some perverted incentive?

Hot tears slipped from behind her closed eyes.

Children were innocent beings. Elain was confident that she could shower them with love, raise them to be good kids, rightful heirs instead of the hateful brats forged in hate that often visited her dreams. The problem was she would never live for that. The cauldron, who claimed to love her, would not hesitate in killing her to fulfill his plans. He knew Elain would raise the kids to be good hearted, keep them centered. That's why she always died. Always. Her death was the marking point to her children downfall, her spilled blood nurturing the roots of their resentment. The caldron coaxing voice would lure them for a century of destruction, wipe the divides of the world as they knew, build a new era forged with fire.

A knock on the door made Elain get up.

“Just a minute!” She screamed going to the bathroom.

Elain cleaned her face the best she could and opened the door to a nervous Feyre.

“You weren’t at the orphanage.”

“I overslept.” The lie rolled of her tongue easily.

Feyre talked about her busy morning with the kids, saying Alanis replaced her during reading lessons, Elain changing into a warm wool dress on the background. The subject quickly moved to her mating anniversary and how Feyre was planning a special night to celebrate her husband. She wanted to surprise Rhys by cooking dinner by herself. Elain held back her laughter while lacing her boots, gently suggesting that she should leave that task for the cook who was more experienced. Her sister was having none of that.

“That’s why I’m here. I want you to teach me.”

She bestowed upon Elain the hard mission of teaching her how to make the magnificent dish she had in mind.

"Soup?" Elain asked, confused.

"Soup."

"Plain soup?"

"It's a meaningful dish." Feyre grinned.

Elain fastened a scarf around her neck. “Any flavor of preference?”

“Yes! The easiest possible.” She rolled her eyes and closed the door, Feyre winnowing outside the river house, them directly into her fancy kitchen.

“What do you think about tomato?”

“Love it.” Her sister nodded, assuming the expression of someone who was about to go war. “Let’s do this.”

Elain chuckled going to fetch them aprons.

It was going to be a chaotic day. She could feel it.

******

Get familiar with Stardust Bakery, read my hc here :D

#elriel fanfic #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #elain and azriel #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #my writing #TTYLTOYD #all right #no one can convince me #that elriel didn't spend lots of time together #enough to develop routines #kind of #(is my fic i chose the illusion) #u.u #lol #celibacy means you're in deep! #i love to mess with elain's powers #her bond #why the cauldron loves her? #what does he why? #why does he want it? #my queen is a beautiful canvas #i love her <3

[raaorqtpbpdy]

There should be a game show where ppl have to guess the original quotes that got turned into memes.

Like fill in the blank: I can excuse _____, but I draw the line at __________. You can excuse ______?

If I had a nickel for every time _____________ I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

Bonus round! Bonus prize! I do not control the _______________________ die (4words)

Can you fill in the blank to win the grand prize?

No fear. _____________________. One fear.

[toncharts]

Avaliação do álbum 'Salute' de Little Mix

Quer saber mais sobre a minha avaliação das faixas do álbum 'Salute' de Little Mix? Confira aqui e descubra a média final do álbum!

Little Mix

Salute

11 nov 2013

16

pop dance

1

SALUTE

2

MOVE

3

LITTLE ME

4

WORD UP!

5

NOTHING FEELS LIKE YOU

6

TOWERS

7

COMPETITION

8

THESE FOUR WALLS

9

ABOUT THE BOY

10

BOY

11

GOOD ENOUGH

12

MR LOVEBOY

13

A DIFFERENT BEAT

14

SEE ME NOW

15

THEY JUST DON'T YOU KNOW

16

STAND DOWN

ano2013 atoLittleMix albumSalute generopop generodance

#avaliação #álbum #2013 #LittleMix #Salute #LittleMixSalute

[shamaste]

Change, connection, wonder, strenght.

What is your 4 words?

#words #subconciousmind #subconsious #unconsiousness #knowing #realization #realise #4words #find #finding #surching #change #life #inspiration #life quotes #spirituality #shaman #inspiring quotes #quotes #spiritualawakening #spiritualism #tumbler #game #becoming aware #awareness #truth #spiritual awakening #spiritually #spirit #spiritualguidance

[twodoggarage]

"We weren't here first" • ▪ • ▪ • ▪ • ▪ • ▪ • ▪ #mars #martians #space #nasa #astronauts #horror #scary #scifi #sciencefiction #future #explore #monday #fourwords #4words (at North Scituate, Rhode Island) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-pBS4MA_ET/?igshid=1jltkybs3yrpq

#mars #martians #space #nasa #astronauts #horror #scary #scifi #sciencefiction #future #explore #monday #fourwords #4words

[9thelurkmaster]

does father choose fascism?

- a four word story in a first world nation

#ellohbee #nutype #9 #post #poem #quote #art #4words #4 word story #fascism #first world problems

[loob0o]

4 word horror story

my charger won't charge

#HeLP #4words #horror #meme #jakdjskhdns #help #like #actually please #im scared #Umu