#can i just skip this palace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pucksandpower · 28 days

Text

Something Sweet

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the story of your relationship … as told through gelato (in honor of Charles opening an ice cream shop)

The warm spring sun beats down on your face as you stroll along the winding streets of Monaco, gelato in hand. You savor each sweet bite, the rich hazelnutty flavor melting across your tongue.

This is bliss.

You just moved here to attend university and every day feels like a dream come true exploring your new home principality.

The picturesque buildings with their sun-baked stucco walls and colorful tiled roofs line the narrow alleyways. Locals bustle about, chatting rapidly in French as scooters whiz by. The air carries a tang of salt from the glittering Mediterranean just beyond the palace ramparts.

You could get used to this.

Suddenly, a body careens around the corner, slamming right into you. You stumble backward as the gelato goes flying, splattering across the quaint cobblestones in a sticky mess.

“Oh mon dieu, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” A frantic voice rings out as a pair of strong hands steady you before you can topple over completely.

You look up, slightly dazed, into a pair of warm green eyes filled with concern. The man is clad in athletic shorts and a snug t-shirt, damp with sweat from an obvious run. Tousled chestnut hair flops across his forehead in an effortlessly tousled way.

He’s … incredibly handsome.

Like, stupid levels of handsome.

“I’m fine, really,” you stammer out, feeling your cheeks flush as his hands linger almost ... protectively on your arms. “Just clumsy me dropping my gelato.”

He grimaces, following your gaze to the melting puddle. “I’m such an idiot, let me replace that for you.” His face is the picture of remorse as he gently releases his grip.

You wave him off with an awkward chuckle. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal ...”

But he’s already shaking his head adamantly. “No, no I insist. That looked delicious and it’s entirely my fault.” He shoots you a lopsided grin that makes your heart skip a beat. “I know this amazing little place that makes the best gelato in Monaco. My treat to make up for barreling into you like that.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his earnestness as you nod slowly in acceptance. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

“Perfect!” He beams at you, that bright smile crinkling the corners of his eyes in the most delightful way. “I’m Charles, by the way.”

You introduce yourself as well as Charles begins leading you deeper into the winding backstreets, clearly knowing exactly where he’s going. You can’t help stealing sidelong glances at him as you walk, admiring the strong muscles of his arms and shoulders visible through his fitted shirt.

Finally, he ducks into a tiny alleyway, stopping before an unassuming doorway you surely would have just passed right by. A faded sign hangs above reading Gelatomania in curling script.

“This place is my favorite,” Charles confides in a conspiratorial murmur as he holds the door for you. “Family-run for generations and miles better than any of the touristy places.”

You step inside and are immediately enveloped in a thick, sugary aroma that makes your mouth water. A few little metal tables with rickety chairs are squeezed into the compact space, but it’s the immaculate glass cases lining the walls that draw your eye.

Filled with every flavor imaginable, the gelato looks utterly divine — from naturally green pistachio to decadent chocolate hazelnut to tangy lemon. An older woman with a grandmotherly face greets Charles like an old friend in rapid Italian from behind the counter.

He responds easily in kind before turning back to you. “What’ll it be? I recommend the hazelnut again if you liked your first one.”

You nod and watch, utterly charmed, as Charles places your order for a fresh hazelnut gelato with a deferential “per favore” and that knee-weakening smile of his. He gets a simple vanilla for himself before paying and leading you over to a little iron table outside in a sliver of sunshine.

You take your first bite and … oh my god. This is gelato from the heavens themselves. You can’t contain the downright blissful moan that escapes your lips as the divinely creamy, rich concoction melts across your tongue.

“Good, right?” Charles looks incredibly pleased at your rapturous reaction as he digs into his own treat with gusto.

“This might be the single most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” you admit fervently between increasingly enthusiastic licks and bites. “How have I survived this long without knowing this place existed?”

Charles throws his head back with a full-bellied laugh at your passionate proclamation. God, even his laugh is unfairly attractive ...

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he grins around a mouthful of velvety vanilla. “I’ve been coming here since before I could walk. Quickly became my favorite gelato spot.”

“You’ve lived here a while then?” You ask between savoring bites of the impossibly luscious confection. “I only just moved for university.”

Charles nods as he licks a stray drip from his thumb. “Yeah, born and raised a few streets over actually.”

There’s a slight lull as you both focus on thoroughly demolishing your gelato for a few contented minutes, exchanging occasional muffled hums of sheer delight. The warm sun filtering through the awning casts a soft golden glow over the little alleyway, lending everything a dreamlike haze of perfection.

“So beyond being from here, do you have any exciting hobbies or interests?” You ask eventually, dragging the conversation back into the open.

“Well ...” Charles’ expression morphs into one of almost sheepish amusement as he leans back in his rickety chair. “You could say my hobby is also kind of my job. I’m actually a Formula 1 driver, believe it or not.”

You damn near choke on your next bite as his words register. “You’re what? As in ... a race car driver? In Formula 1? Seriously?”

There’s no way this stunning man is being truthful. Sure, he looks like he could be some kind of athlete with that perfectly toned physique. But a literal professional race car driver? The thought is almost too crazy to be believed.

Charles just laughs again at your dumbfounded reaction, clearly used to this response as he nods. “Seriously! I compete for Ferrari if you follow the races at all?”

You think you might pass out from shock as everything clicks into place — the athletic build, the way people seemed to stare as he passed them on the street, the laid-back confidence and easy smile of someone incredibly comfortable in their own skin ...

“Oh my god, you’re ... you’re Charles freaking Leclerc, aren’t you?” You gape at him in abject disbelief. “As in, the guy literally plastered on the huge billboard across from my apartment? Leading the championship? Incredibly talented and famous?”

He lets out an almost bashful chuckle at your rapid-fire incredulous questioning, shrugging one broad shoulder. “Well, I don’t know about incredibly talented or famous. But yes, that’s me — just your average local race car driver currently making an absolute mess while eating gelato.”

Here you sit, having just shared an utterly divine dessert while shamelessly ogling one of the most popular and well-known athletes in the damn world … and he’s acting like it’s absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Like you’re just two regular people enjoying a sweet treat together on a sunny day.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now,” you murmur, shaking your head slowly. “Do you have any idea how many people would kill to literally just ... sit across from you like this while you eat mediocre gas station ice cream, much less the world’s best gelato? I’m … stunned you’re so nonchalant about this whole thing.”

Charles merely flashes you a self-deprecating grin as he pops the last bite of cone into his mouth. “Well, to me you’re not some screaming fangirl, but just a lovely new friend I enjoy gelato with. Though my ego certainly appreciates the compliments.”

He winks at you impishly and you feel an unwitting smile tugging at the corners of your own lips despite your lingering disbelief. You suppose being surrounded by such incredible wealth and luxury every day in Monaco, Charles likely doesn’t register it anymore. Not to mention the clearly down-to-earth personality he seems to possess given that genuine humility.

The hours just seem to slip effortlessly by then as the two of you continue to chat and laugh and bask in the perfect afternoon contentment of the moment. Charles regales you with ridiculous behind-the-scenes stories about increasingly crazy bets with his friends and crew during the season. You share equally hilarious tales of your own coming-of-age mishaps as an overeager teenager.

At some point, you both reach for your long-empty dishes simultaneously, fingers brushing in a spark of contact that sends your pulse stuttering. Charles doesn’t pull back, letting his hand linger outrageously close to yours as his warm gaze stays locked intensely on your face.

You try to swallow past a suddenly dry throat as the atmosphere shifts abruptly, suddenly heavy with the hot crackle of unmistakable chemistry and unspoken tension. But then, just like that, the moment passes as quickly as it came.

Your phone buzzes loudly in your pocket with a text, the notification startling you both back to reality. Charles sits back, clearing his throat slightly as you pull your hand away to quickly check the message.

It’s from your roommate asking when you’ll be home for dinner and if you need her to start cooking.

You glance up at Charles with an apologetic grimace. “I should probably head back. I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten.”

He blinks rapidly before seeming to visibly shake himself. “Right, of course! Time really got away from us, didn’t it?”

You stand as Charles rises smoothly to his feet as well, shoving both hands casually in his pockets. “So ... I had a really great time with you today,” he says carefully, something almost hesitant flickering across his face. “And I’d love a chance to take you out again sometime soon, if you’re interested? Maybe grab dinner when I’m back in town?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the unmistakable request for an actual date. With Charles freaking Leclerc no less ...

Tamping down your sudden nerves, you nod slowly as a shy smile blossoms on your lips. “I’d really like that,” you admit truthfully. “Let’s definitely do dinner whenever you’re free.”

His whole expression brightens immediately at your affirmation, lips stretching in a wide grin of pure delight. “Perfect! I’ll be back from my next race in just over a week then. How about exchanging numbers so I can let you know as soon as I’ve returned?”

You quickly rattle off your number as Charles punches it into his phone before doing the same for you. As if sealing some unspoken deal, he sticks out his hand to shake yours, that warm roughened grip lingering perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary.

“I’ll text you soon then,” Charles murmurs intently, that spark of heat flickering in his eyes again. “Promise me you’ll say yes this time.”

You can only nod mutely, mouth gone bone-dry at the pointed words and heated look washing over you. Charles maintains that blistering eye contact and heart-stalling grip on your palm for another loaded handful of seconds, leaving you dizzy with giddy anticipation.

Then, just like that, he releases your hand with one final squeeze before taking a step back, seemingly satisfied by your stunned agreement. Charles shoots you one last lingering look and crooked grin before turning to stride easily back the way you came.

You remain rooted in place for a long moment, utterly dazed by the entire surreal scenario as you watch his broad shoulders and narrow waist disappear down the narrow alleyway.

Today started out as any other nothing-out-of-the-ordinary spring day in your new home. But now … now you have an actual date scheduled with an unbelievably charming and disarmingly down-to-earth racing superstar.

A giddy giggle bubbles up from deep in your chest as reality finally settles in. Who could have ever predicted that bumping into your new acquaintance — quite literally — would lead to not only discovering the most heavenly gelato on the planet, but lining up a date with an internationally famous athlete?

Suddenly, your bright future studying in Monaco just got about ten thousand times more interesting …

***

The week passes by in a blur of anticipation after your initial meeting with Charles. You can barely focus during lectures, your mind constantly wandering to that charming grin and those warm eyes crinkling at the corners whenever he laughed.

Finally, the evening you’ve been eagerly awaiting arrives. You’ve just finished getting ready — pulling on a flowy sundress and brushing out your hair one last time — when your phone buzzes with a new text.

I’m outside whenever you’re ready for our date night. Looking forward to seeing you again 😘

You can’t bite back your giddy smile as you quickly reply that you’re heading out before taking one last steadying breath.

It’s just Charles … the internationally famous and absurdly handsome Formula 1 driver you’ve somehow managed to snag a date with.

No big deal at all.

The evening air carries a pleasantly cool breeze as you exit your apartment building, scanning the idling line of vehicles for Charles’ car. You spot him immediately, leaning against the gleaming metallic side of what you now recognize as an eye-wateringly expensive Ferrari.

Charles looks … unfairly gorgeous. He’s shed his athletic wear in favor of a simple white linen shirt and tailored slacks that somehow make him appear even more effortlessly suave. His hair is artfully tousled and damn if those clothes don’t accentuate every hard plane and corded muscle of his built frame.

You must be staring because suddenly Charles is pushing off from the car and straightening to his full height, those intense eyes crinkling warmly as soon as they land on you.

“You look stunning,” he murmurs appreciatively once you’ve drawn closer, making a show of trailing his gaze slowly up and down your figure. You’re abruptly grateful for the dusky twilight hiding your furious blush at the blatant admiration in his tone.

“Thanks,” you manage to get out without your voice shaking too noticeably. “You don’t look half bad yourself, race car man.”

Charles throws back his head with one of those deep-bellied laughs you’re quickly becoming addicted to. “Why thank you, gelato girl.” He shoots you a wink before surprising you by gallantly offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You take it without hesitation, reveling in the solid warmth of his bicep pressed against your side as Charles leads you to the waiting glossy black sports car. He opens the door for you like an old-fashioned gentleman, closing it carefully once you’re tucked inside the buttery leather interior.

The engine roars to life with a powerful rumble and you can’t resist shooting Charles an impressed look as he deftly maneuvers out onto the street.

“You know, I’m starting to think this little hobby of yours might not be too bad of a gig,” you tease lightly, waving a hand at the sleek interior compartment.

“I can’t complain,” Charles volleys back with a crooked grin, seamlessly navigating the tight turns of the old city. “Sometimes they even let me drive in circles really fast just for fun.”

You roll your eyes at his retort, but can’t quite wipe the smile off your face as Charles guns the engine, the car surging forward in a burst of speed and power. Clearly the man knows how to leverage any opportunity to show off those expert driving skills … not that you mind one bit.

Eventually, Charles pulls up in front of an unassuming doorway you never would have noticed tucked down a quiet side street. The understated sign above simply reads Trattoria Giovanni.

“This place has been run by the same Italian family for over fifty years,” Charles explains as he holds the door for you. “Best authentic cuisine in the city, but you would never find it unless you knew where to look.”

The interior appears to have been plucked directly from a rustic Tuscan villa — burnished wooden beams criss-crossing the curved ceilings and terracotta tiles underfoot. You breathe in deeply, savoring the mouthwatering aromas of garlic, tomato sauce, and fresh bread wafting from the open kitchen.

An older man with a thick mustache and crisp white apron greets Charles immediately in fluent Italian, ushering you both back to a cozy alcove table secluded in the very rear. He pours you both generous glasses of deep red wine before disappearing again with a conspiratorial wink in your direction.

“So, how was your race?” You ask between sips once you and Charles are alone, genuinely curious about the difficult career he’s managed to carve out.

He shrugs one broad shoulder almost dismissively. “Decent enough, I suppose. Grabbed another podium finish, but didn’t quite have the pace for the win.” There’s no disappointment or frustration in his tone as he speaks, just a simple statement of fact.

“I’m endlessly in awe that you treat accomplishments like that so casually,” you admit with a shake of your head. “Finishing in the top three in Formula 1 seems like the kind of thing most people would be over the moon about.”

Charles lets out a low chuckle at that, leaning towards you over the small table with eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well maybe I need to find a new way to impress someone like you then.”

You open your mouth to respond with a playful retort of your own, but Charles’ gaze has already strayed to somewhere past your shoulder.

“Ah, perfect timing then. Here’s Giovanni himself with our orders.”

Sure enough, the older man you spotted earlier bustles up with a tray overflowing with piping hot plates of food. He doles out the dishes methodically while rattling off a stream of explanations about preparations and ingredients that have clearly been passed down for many generations.

Everything looks and smells utterly divine — from the heaping bowl of glistening spaghetti blanketed in a simmering tomato sauce to the golden-baked chicken drenched in rosemary and olive oil. The endlessly affable Giovanni even sets down a small ceramic dish full of creamy pale cheese, patting Charles on the shoulder.

“The burrata for you and your lady friend. Freshly made this morning by my wife,” he declares proudly before whisking himself away again.

For the next blissful hour or two, you and Charles completely lose yourselves in this veritable feast for the senses. You savor each and every decadent bite — moaning around the pillowy strands of spaghetti and tearing off chunks of the crusty, herb-brushed breads to soak up the savory juices.

Charles, for his part, dives into the meal with just as much enthusiasm, occasionally reaching over to snag a bite off of your plate until you resort to smacking his wandering fork away between fits of laughter.

Stuffed and utterly content, you both eventually push away your long-cleared dishes to nurse the final sips of your wine as the evening stretches languorously on. You fall into these simple moments like an old habit by now — trading comfortable silences and contented looks between impassioned recounts of childhood anecdotes or musings about life.

Finally, as the candles on the small wooden tables begin to gutter and wane, Charles summons over your waiter to settle the check with a few murmured words and one of those knee-weakening smiles. Rising smoothly, he extends his hand in a wordless invitation for you to join him back out into the balmy evening.

This time, instead of heading for the car, Charles tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow before choosing a new direction — down a maze of narrow streets until you finally emerge along the harbor’s edge. Strings of twinkling lights reflect off the lapping waves while the soft strains of background music filter out from somewhere nearby.

“Feel like grabbing a little dessert to walk off that incredible meal?” Charles asks in a low murmur, bumping your shoulder conspiratorially.

You shoot him an incredulous look even as you nod. “You mean in addition to the literal feast we both just had?”

Charles tugs you closer to his side until your hips graze together as you match strides. “There’s always room for gelato,” he counters with an arched brow. “Besides, when in Monaco ...”

Any further protests die on your lips as Charles guides you around another tight corner to reveal that familiar cheerful gelato shop from your initial meeting. The old woman behind the counter greets you both like regulars already, no doubt thanks to Charles’ frequent patronage.

You maneuver through the small line until it’s your turn to order. “I think I’ll go with the tiramisu flavor this time,” you decide, mouth already watering at the prospect of that rich coffee and creamy goodness. “What about you? Mixing it up or still sticking with the basics?”

Charles shakes his head resolutely as he hands over a few crisp bills to pay for your treats. “Trust me, a heaping helping of simple vanilla is just as gratifying as all those overly complicated flavor combinations.”

You balk at his slander, bumping his shoulder with your own without any real heat. “How dare you insult my incredible palette like that?” You glare at him in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I have some of the most refined gelato taste in all of Monaco now.”

“Oh yeah?” Charles tips his chin down with a challenging smirk twisting his full lips. “Well what if I told you that vanilla is scientifically proven to be the most popular and beloved flavor in existence?”

“By who? Basic boring people?” You volley back mercilessly, eagerly leaning into the playful banter now. “If anything, those findings just demonstrated how sadly uncreative society at large is.”

Charles barks out a booming laugh as he grabs your hand and tugs you back out of the shop, gelato in the other. “You heathen! We’re clearly going to need to educate you on the finer points of flavor appreciation.”

Your eyes narrow dangerously even as you let yourself be lead to a nearby bench overlooking the gently lapping waves. “Oh, you’re on, Leclerc. Let’s see if your vanilla snobbery holds up after a taste of tiramisu heaven.”

You scoop up an exaggeratedly generous spoonful of the divinely rich, creamy gelato and make a show of savoring it with overstated moans of delight. “Oh my god, this is so good. Here, you have to try this! It’s life-changing.”

Charles wrinkles his nose even as you wave the spoonful enticingly in front of him. “Nice try but I would never cheat on vanilla!”

The two of you devolve into helpless laughter at that point, dissolving into breathless giggles over the ridiculous debate getting more outrageous by the minute. Finally, you relent in the battle, settling back into the cool metal of the bench and turning your face up to the inky sea of stars glittering overhead.

“You’re right though — sometimes simple really is best,” you admit finally in a softer tone, slowly licking another sweet bite off your spoon.

Charles hums in agreement next to you, shuffling closer until your arms brush together with body heat and contact. “The classics never go out of style.”

The next comfortable silence stretches out between you as you take your time savoring your treats while simultaneously drinking in the breathtaking view laid out before you. The water laps almost hypnotically at the shoreline, twinkling reflection of docked yachts bobbing gently on the calm surface.

A breeze skates across your bare arms, raising a faint ripple of goosebumps along your skin. Charles notices immediately, shifting even nearer until he can shrug out of the lightweight jacket he had been wearing.

Without a word, he swings the soft fabric around your shoulders, tucking it securely around your front. You burrow instinctively into the material, the lingering body heat and remnants of his cologne wrapping you up in an cocoon of soothing warmth and intoxicating comfort.

With your free hand, you toy idly with the collar until Charles’ arm comes up to curl around your shoulders, effectively enveloping you into his solid frame. You let your cheek tip onto the firm muscle of his arm as Charles squeezes you closer with a contented exhale.

Time becomes meaningless suspended in that perfect sea-side bubble, waves flowing rhythmically while you enjoy every last savored bite of your melting treats. You let the quiet inevitability of dropping your head onto Charles’ shoulder wash over you, his familiar cologne invading your senses until your entire world narrows to just him.

When Charles polishes off the final bite of his cone and you go to shift away, another cool gust skitters across the harbor. He tightens the arm curved around you, making no move to let you up or leave the cozy haven you’ve made.

“I could get used to evenings like this, you know,” he murmurs eventually, lips brushing the top of your head. “Just taking it slow and savoring each other’s company without a single worry or care beyond where to find the best gelato.”

You hum in sleepy agreement, luxuriating in the casual intimacy of having Charles wrapped so protectively around you. Part of you can scarcely believe how instantaneous and natural this connection has blossomed between you already. But another part feels like you’ve finally found your soul’s missing piece slotting seamlessly into place after stumbling around lost and incomplete for so long without ever realizing it.

The two of you remain suspended in that perfect, tranquil bubble for what could be minutes or hours more. You’ve completely lost track of any sense of time beyond the lullaby of the gentle waves and occasional murmur of Charles’ breathing ruffling your hair.

Eventually though, his stirring signals a slow return to the real world as Charles regretfully extricates himself from your entwined position with clear reluctance.

“I should probably get you back before your roommate starts to worry,” he says remorsefully as he slides off the bench to offer you a steadying hand up.

You accept it without hesitation, but can’t resist clinging to his jacket still cocooned around your shoulders, unwilling to shrug off that lingering cocoon of comfort and safety just yet. Charles notices, allowing a tiny grin to quirk one side of his mouth upwards as he takes in your refusal to part with it.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs with unmistakable heat in those hypnotizing eyes. “I may have to let you hang on to that one for a while.”

Your mouth goes abruptly dry at the blatant implications in his tone, but you manage a coy smile in return as you turn to make your way back towards wherever Charles has his car crookedly parked.

The streets are all but abandoned by the time you arrive at the discreet entrance of your apartment building. Charles hesitates a split second before rounding the front of the gleaming Ferrari to face you properly on the quiet sidewalk.

“Thank you for an incredible evening,” you say honestly, gazing up at his silhouette in the dim glow of the streetlamps. “I don’t think I can even put into words how special you’ve managed to make me feel these past couple weeks.”

His expression softens instantly. One calloused palm comes up to tenderly cup your jaw, tilting your face up towards his with feather-light reverence.

“The pleasure has been all mine, I assure you,” Charles rumbles in a low tone that steals your breath away. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize just how remarkable you are, ma belle.”

Your eyes flutter shut without conscious thought as his nose brushes yours. Charles’ lips glide torturously against your cheek leaving a blazing trail to the very corner of your mouth.

The softest, most infinitely gentle press of satin flesh on flesh and then he’s pulling back — his ragged exhale warm and intoxicating against your tingling lips. You chase his retreat on instinct, but Charles is already withdrawing further with clear reluctance.

“I’m afraid I don’t trust myself to take things slow quite yet if I stay,” he murmurs in a strained rasp, pupils blown wide and dark. “But I do hope you’ll allow me to make this our new gelato tradition from now on ...”

It takes you several faltering attempts to find your voice again, chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of that lightning bolt of affection. Finally, you manage a jerky nod, sliding one trembling hand over his where it still cups your cheek.

“I want that more than anything,” you confess in a hushed tone. “Just ... promise me we’ll see each other soon.”

He releases a shuddering breath of unbridled relief, dipping his forehead to rest against yours. “Soon,” Charles vows lowly. “I promise.”

You stare up into his earnest eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Charles’ lips quirk in that lopsided grin you already adore so much. “I’m counting on it.”

With obvious reluctance, he finally steps away, snagging your hand to press one last searing kiss to your knuckles that has your heart stuttering all over again. Charles holds your gaze as you carefully back away towards the entrance, unwilling or unable to fully turn your back until the very last moment.

You chance a glance over your shoulder as you reach the front doors. Charles is still there, unmoving in a pool of streetlight beside his idling Ferrari, hands shoved in his pockets as he tracks your every step until you’ve slipped safely inside.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, you lean back against the cool stone wall, fingers coming up to ghost across your still-tingling lips almost disbelievingly.

When you finally muster the courage to peek through the glass once more, Charles has moved to lean against the side of his car, head tilted back as he stares into the lobby with an unmistakable softness etched across those chiseled features.

You can’t resist pressing your palm to the pane in a gesture you know he’ll recognize. Sure enough, Charles’ intense gaze instantly snaps to lock on you from across the quiet street, expression melting into pure adoration and wonder. His lips shape the same promise he uttered just moments ago — soon — as your own quirk in a delighted smile.

One last impulsive spark of inspiration has you playfully blowing him a single kiss through the barrier between you. Charles catches the invisible token easily, hand flying up to press over that broad chest as he throws back his head with a laugh that you can’t hear but imagine with vivid clarity.

You stand there transfixed, drinking in every last detail of him — the effortless elegance he carries himself with, the striking planes of his handsome face, and those beautiful eyes glittering with a thousand unspoken promises under the streetlamps.

Finally, with your own vow to reunite pulsing between you, Charles slides behind the wheel of his car. The powerful engine roars to life, twin beams from the headlights sweeping up to briefly wash through the windows of the lobby in a silent farewell before he’s peeling away into the night back towards the glittering city center.

You remain at the entrance for several long minutes basking in the memory of Charles’ phantom embrace still clinging to your skin. Only once his Ferrari has faded into the distance do you finally turn towards the elevator up to your apartment — every footstep lighter than air in the wake of an evening that lived up to even your wildest dreams of romantic splendor.

The simple joy and humble pleasure of a perfect scoop of creamy gelato will always hold untold meaning now as the spark marking the start of something beautiful blossoming between you and Charles.

And, as you finally drift off that night with a permanent smile etched across your face, you know without a shadow of a doubt that no flavor in the world could ever compare to the sweet indulgence of a life together just waiting to be savored and explored.

***

The warm spring breeze carries the sweet floral scents of the Brera Botanical Garden through the air as you stroll hand-in-hand with Charles. His fingers are laced through yours, his thumb gently stroking over your knuckles. You can’t help stealing glances at his handsome profile — the defined jawline, those soft kiss-curled lips, those kind green eyes that always seem to be smiling even when the rest of his face isn’t.

“What are you looking at?” Charles says with an amused grin, catching you staring again. You just shake your head and squeeze his hand tighter.

“Nothing. Just admiring the view,” you tease. Charles laughs that bright, infectious laugh of his that never fails to make your heart flutter.

You come to a stop beneath a blossoming cherry tree, pale pink petals floating down around you. Charles turns to face you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Y/N … there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he begins, suddenly uncharacteristically nervous. You tilt your head curiously. “You know how passionate I am about racing, about Formula 1. It’s been my dream since I was a little boy.”

“Of course,” you nod, unable to stop a small smile. Charles’ love for motorsports is one of the many things you have come to adore about him.

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Charles continues, taking both your hands in his. “And I’ve realized that I want to have something else in my life too. A … passion project, you could say. Something that’s away from all the spotlight and pressure.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you try to imagine what he could mean. Charles has spoken before about potentially getting more involved in charity work or environmentalism on top of his racing career. But the almost childlike excitement dancing in his eyes tells you this is something different.

“I’m going to open a gelato shop,” he blurts out finally. You blink dumbly.

“A … gelato shop?” You repeat slowly. Out of all the possibilities, that was definitely not what you were expecting.

“Yes!” Charles grins broadly, clearly delighted by your surprise. “Think about it,Y/N. What’s more perfect than gelato made right here in the heart of Milano? And I’ve already found the ideal location — a little shop just across the street from here. Can’t you just picture it?”

He starts gesturing animatedly, that bright smile never leaving his face as he outlines his grand vision. You can’t help getting caught up in his infectious enthusiasm, even if the idea still seems a bit random.

“I’m going to call it Lec,” Charles says with a proud smile. You let out an undignified snort of laughter.

“Lec? Like your last name?” You shake your head in amusement. He looks almost offended by your reaction.

“No, no, not just my last name,” he corrects you seriously. “Lec as in … our last name. Yours and mine.”

The words hang in the air as realization slowly starts to dawn on you. You open and close your mouth dumbly as Charles takes a deep breath, sliding off the path onto one knee on the ground before you. With shaking hands, he pulls out a small black box from his pocket and flips it open to reveal the most stunning diamond ring you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N Y/L/N … you are my world, my everything,” Charles’ voice is thick with emotion as he gazes up at you. “I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else by my side. I want to wake up every morning and go to sleep every night with you beside me forever.”

Tears are already welling in your eyes, one hand pressed to your trembling lips as you listen to the beautiful words.

“Will you ...” Charles’ voice catches in his throat and he has to clear it before continuing. “Will you do me the greatest honor and become my wife? Will you marry me?”

The last few words come out in a rush of breath. You’re vaguely aware of several other people in the gardens who’ve stopped to watch, but all you can see is Charles’ face — hopeful and vulnerable and so full of pure adoration for you.

“Yes!” You finally manage to choke out through your joyful tears. “Oh my god, yes! Yes of course I’ll marry you!”

Pure relief and blissful ecstasy bursts across Charles’ face at your answer. With hands trembling just as badly as yours, he eases the glittering ring out of the box and onto your finger where it nestles perfectly, the diamond catching the dappled sunlight.

Before you can even look at it properly, Charles is on his feet again, pulling you into his embrace and spinning you around in a deliriously happy circle. You cling to him, laughing and crying at the same time as he peppers every inch of your face with kisses — your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose.

Finally, inevitably, his mouth finds yours in a long, deep, loving kiss that has your knees feeling weak. You get lost in the warmth of his arms around you, the gentleness of his hands cradling your face, the tenderness of his soft lips moving reverently against yours.

When you finally part, you’re both smiling so much it almost hurts, foreheads pressed together as you share the same breath. Charles brushes away a few stray tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“I love you so much, mon cœur,” he murmurs softly. You mouth the words back to him before stealing another lingering kiss.

Hand-in-hand once more, Charles leads you out of the botanical gardens and across the street. You come to a stop in front of a quaint yet sizable storefront, the windows covered in brown paper and a faded For Lease sign still hanging crookedly in the door.

“Here it is,” Charles says, gesturing up at the building with undisguised pride. “What do you think?”

You take it in slowly, trying to envision what the space might look like once renovated and filled with cozy seating and the alluring scents of freshly-made gelato.

You picture the two of you working side-by-side behind the counter when Charles doesn’t have a race, laughing and bantering as you serve up delicious treats for smiling customers.

It’s such an endearingly normal, domestic dream compared to the fast-paced frenzy of the Formula 1 lifestyle. But standing here with your new fiancé, it feels absolutely perfect.

“I think … I think it’s going to be incredible,” you lean into Charles’ side and wrap your arms around his trim waist. He responds by kissing your temple and pulling you closer.

“Just think,” he says happily, his warm breath ruffling your hair. “We’ll be the owners of the best little gelateria in all of Milano.

“Sounds like heaven,” you smile. “Just be sure to make plenty of hazelnut and tiramisu for me.”

“Done and done,” he promises solemnly. “Though you know vanilla will always be number one in my book.”

“Oh really?” You arch an eyebrow challengingly. “Is that so?”

Without warning, you loop your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a long, lingering kiss. You can feel him melting into your embrace, his arms snaking securely around your waist.

When you finally manage to pull apart again, you’re both slightly flushed and out of breath. Charles’ usually perfectly tousled hair is charmingly mussed from running your fingers through it. He looks at you with such naked affection and desire that your heart flutters.

“You know what?” He murmurs huskily, resting his forehead against yours. “I take it back. You’re definitely my favorite flavor. And I can’t wait to start this next chapter with you, mon amour.”

And with that promise lingering sweetly between you, Charles takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply once more, pouring every ounce of his devotion into the embrace.

You can taste forever on his lips.

When you finally part, grinning giddily at each other, Charles takes your hand and leads you back towards your next adventure. Whatever lies ahead, you know you’ll take it on fearlessly and joyously, side-by-side with the man you love more than anything in this world.

***

The reception hall is a whirlwind of joy and celebration as you take in the scene, your heart overflowing with love and happiness. The elegant decorations, the twinkling lights, and the smiling faces of your loved ones surrounding you all blur together in a beautiful haze.

You can scarcely believe this day has finally arrived — the day you’ve dreamed of for so long.

You turn to Charles, his warm green eyes sparkling with so much love, and your breath catches in your throat. He looks devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, his million-watt smile making your knees go weak.

This incredible man is now your husband.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, taking your hand and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “Having fun, mon amour?”

A joyful laugh escapes your lips as you nod enthusiastically. “More than I ever thought possible. I’m just … I’m so happy, Charles. I can’t believe we’re actually married!”

He chuckles, that rich laugh that never fails to make you melt. “Believe it, Mrs. Leclerc. You’re stuck with me forever now.” His expression softens as he cups your cheek tenderly. “I love you so much. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You lean into his touch, savoring the moment. “I love you too, Mr. Leclerc. More than anything.”

A throat clears behind you, and you whirl around to see Arthur, your new brother-in-law, grinning mischievously.

“If you two lovebirds are done making everyone else nauseous, it’s time to cut the cake!” He teases, jerking his head towards the lavish gelato cake that sits on the dessert table.

Charles throws his head back with a laugh. “You’re just jealous that you don’t have someone as amazing as my wife to make gooey eyes at.”

Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever. Get your butts over there before I eat the whole thing myself.”

With a wink at you, Charles takes your hand and leads you towards the dessert table, the crowd of guests parting like the Red Sea to let you through. Your heart does a little flip as the magnificent gelato cake comes into view — a towering masterpiece of creamy gelato in vanilla, hazelnut, and tiramisu, all artfully swirled together and decorated with fresh fruit and chocolate shavings.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper in awe, giving Charles’ hand a squeeze.

He pulls you into his side with a content smile. “Not as perfect as you.”

The crowd applauds as you approach the cake, and a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles rises up. Straightening your shoulders with a grin, you pick up the gleaming cake knife and lock eyes with Charles, suddenly feeling bold.

“Ready to do this, husband?” You ask with a teasing lilt.

His eyes blaze with undisguised desire. “More than ready, wife.”

Together, you slice into the towering gelato cake, the creamy filling oozing out and already making your mouth water. Once you have a generous slice on a plate, you scoop up a spoonful and lock eyes with Charles again, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

His pupils dilate as he catches your meaning, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, mon cœur.”

“Who says I can’t finish it?” You take a step closer, holding the spoonful of gelato up temptingly.

Charles tips his head back with a groan. “You’re killing me here.”

“Good thing you have me to bring you back to life then,” you quip, pressing the spoon to his lips.

He opens obediently, letting you slide the gelato into his mouth with agonizing slowness. His eyelids flutter shut as the flavors explode over his tongue, and he actually moans — deep and guttural and utterly sinful.

A choked sound comes from somewhere in the crowd. “Oh please, get a room!” Joris, Charles’ best friend and best man, calls out with a mixture of amusement and mortification.

Charles doesn’t even open his eyes, simply raising one middle finger in Joris’ direction as he savors the last of the gelato. When his tongue finally darts out to catch a stray bit on his lips, you feel an unexpected flare of heat low in your belly.

Okay, two can play at this game.

Deliberately holding Charles’ heated gaze, you dip your finger into the gelato drippings on the plate and slowly, so slowly, bring it up to your lips. You let the very tip of your tongue dart out to catch the sticky sweetness, swirling it around luxuriously. His Adam’s apple bobs as he watches you, jaw tense.

That’s it.

You slip your finger into your mouth fully, hollowing out your cheeks as you suck the gelato off with an utterly obscene sound. Charles’ knees actually buckle, and he grips the table behind him for support, pupils blown wide.

“You are so dead,” he growls under his breath, low and dangerous.

Unable to stop yourself, you let out a breathy giggle, drunk with a dizzying cocktail of desire and sheer bliss. Charles takes a half step closer, his eyes burning into yours. You quickly scoop up another fingerful of gelato, desperate to keep pushing those buttons and draw out that delicious intensity.

But before you can bring it to your lips, quick as a flash, Charles is on you. He drags you flush against his solid form, his free hand cupping the back of your neck to angle your mouth up to his. The scorching kiss steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to his lapels for purchase.

When he finally breaks away, his eyes are blazing with unconcealed want.

“You missed a spot,” he rasps.

Then he’s ducking his head, and with one torturously slow lick, he clears the stray bit of gelato from the tip of your nose. The heat of his tongue on your overly sensitive skin makes you whimper.

The catcalls and whistles from your guests fade into white noise as you melt against your husband, lost in the endless depths of his hungry gaze. Screw being appropriate — you’ll give them all a show to remember if you have to.

“Fuck, I love you,” Charles rumbles, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire.

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again — deep and thorough and all-consuming. You sigh into his mouth, bunching the fine material of his tuxedo jacket in your fists to pull him even closer. His hand slides from your neck into your hair, cradling your head reverently as he pours every ounce of his love and passion into the kiss.

An eternity later, he breaks away with a ragged breath, resting his forehead against yours. “I think it’s time to get out of here, don’t you?”

You can only nod breathlessly, already imagining the deliciously wicked things he has in store. As if in a trance, you allow him to take your hand and lead you towards the exit, shouting and wolf whistles following in your wake.

Just before you slip out of the hall, you hear Pierre Gasly’s teasing voice behind you.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, you two!”

Charles pauses only long enough to call over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“But there’s nothing you wouldn’t do!”

Then he’s sweeping you into his arms with a playful growl, carrying you into your new life together as man and wife. Peals of laughter and cheers chase you down the hall, but you only have eyes for each other in this perfect moment.

You’re married to the love of your life. You have forever with this incredible man. And if the wedding is anything to go by, forever is going to be deliciously amazing.

Literally.

904 notes · View notes

quimichi · 7 months

Text

ೃ⁀➷ CALLING THE SUMERU BOY'S YOUR GOOD BOY

Sumeru boy's Creator!Reader

Al-haitham, Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari & Scaramouche

Al-Haitham - The ones who find the disruptors will win

Al-haitham closes the gap between himself and you, getting as close physically as he can ans drops to his knees. His body quakes slightly as he looks up to meet your eyes. His eyes feel raw. He wants to look away, but he forces himself to meet your gaze. "Your my good boy aren't you?", your voice so gentle, so smooth like the silky web of the Darwin bark spider. A simple question, but Al-Haitham's thoughts come to a halt as he processes your words.

Al-Haitham has heard these words a hundred times before, and yet they always make his heart skip a beat. "Y-yes," he breathes, his gaze unwavering on yours. "Yours." Words fail him. Al-Haitham opens his mouth to say something - anything to appease your desire - and yet no words leave him. Instead he simply closes the gap between you and him, leaning forward so that he is touching you.

He's still on his knees, and as he stares up at you his heart keeps racing. The word *yours* rings in his ears. He wants to say it again, to tell you how he feels about you and about your words. But he cannot.

"Is something troubling you?" your hand comes up to stroke his cheek, gently. He leans into your touch, his whole being quaking at your gesture. When you touch him, he's paralyzed by your affection. He breathes in sharply. "Y- you," Al-Haitham whispers, trying not to let his voice crack. He wants to say more but cannot seem to speak.

He can feel his face redden. Al-Haitham presses himself against you, his entire body practically vibrating with the rush of emotions."I-i am troubling you?" this truly took you by surprise, you always appreciated his honesty but this?

"Y-y-yes." Al-Haitham chokes back his words. His voice falters as he speaks. "You drive me...mad." A small smirk plays at his lips, as though he is ashamed about the thought he's just expressed. Yet there's no going back now, and his face has grown redder.

"B-but im still your good boy." The word leaves him like a prayer. Al-Haitham closes his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He does not move. He does not breathe. His entire body is held hostage by you. Your voice is the air he breathes. Your touch is what makes him whole.

He is utterly yours.

Kaveh - The ability to appreciate beauty is an important virtue.

Kaveh smiles shyly, nervously, and approaches you on trembling legs. His steps are slow, but steady— it is only a few paces, but it seems like his body is taking him to heaven itself. When he is finally within touching distance, he waits for instruction; he is your servant after all. In your name he has build multiple builds, designed the palace you are living in. Without him, without his abilities, you wouldn't live in a palace only for you. You just had to praise him for it.

"Yes, your Grace. I am," Kaveh answers instantly. The words fall from his lips like honey, and he is genuinely giddy when he says them. He's bouncing on place like a child. So excited he forgot to be surprised by the sudden affection of his grace.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Grace? Your good boy shall always be by your side, ready to serve." You quickly move your hand for him to come closer. Kaveh obeys without hesitation, but his heart is beating out of hus chest while he still moving closer. His hands are clasped before him and are trembling with nervous energy as he gazes up at you, his expression reverent.

"Your Grace?" he asks cautiously, as if he is awaiting your next command. "Is there something you need?"

Kavehs cheeks immediately flush pink as his breath grows hoarse. He is a little embarrassed to admit it, but his gaze is captivated by your hand. He can no longer hide the fact that your touch mesmerizes him.

"Your Grace, please..." he begs quietly, though he doesn't dare look away. "If you keep stroking my cheek like this i am close to fainting..." You start to softly chuckle at him, well, isn't he a cutie?

Kavehs face flushes brighter, and his heartbeat seems to triple with each passing second. "Your Grace," he asks, his voice thick with infatuation, "can you please call me that again? After all...I'm your good boy aren't I?"

Cyno - Your sins weigh upon your soul

"Cyno, would you mind coming closer?" As if moved by an unknown force, Cyno shifts closer, inching closer to your person. "You would like me nearer?" he asks, the quiet tone of reverence in his voice unchanging.

"A tiny bit closer" you said, and without any hesitation, he does. Cyno obliges with his next breath, the movement of him inching closer in tandem with it.

"As you wish, Your Grace," he says softly to you. "Good boy" you coo at him. Such an obedient boy he is. Every fibre of Cynos being is lit up in the face of your praise. He stares back at you like a lost baby bird gazing up at the heavens.

"Thank you," he says quietly, as if the mere notion of such things were a foreign concept to him. You are the only one whose approval he craves. "Ohhh you're so formal" he never let his guard down while in your presence. Always showing you the upmost respect. The only time it slips, is when a little joke leaves him making you chuckle. That alone makes his heart race and being close to explode...

"I'm sorry," Cyno mumbles, face blushing in mortification at his slip-up. In all his life he has only been taught to show respect. Even now, as everything becomes so much easier with you near, he must maintain a sense of formality and decorum.

"Forgive me," he says, voice quiet and soft as ever, tone dripping with reverence as it comes out. "Oh Cyno, it's ok. You're my good boy after all I could never be upset with you"

The mere words from your lips are enough to send chills down Cynos spine, his face flushing as though his skin had become suddenly too tight for his body.

"And you are my god/dess/deity"

The words come like a whisper of a breeze. His hands flutter before his chest, the way a maiden might wring her hands. His expression is one of complete adoration, his gaze turned up to you as if to a heavenly vista.

I'm their good boy....

Tighnari - The value of knowledge can't simply be quantified in monetary terms.

"Nari, would you mind coming closer to me?" He doesn't wait to respond. With an urgent and desperate speed, Tighnari closes the gap between you and him. He wants to make you happy, and his body responds without a moment of hesitation as his legs bring him closer to you.

He presses close to you, and takes a deep breath in. His warm gaze holds a soft glow of wonder and awe as he takes in your face. His eyes speak to you silently, and say 'I am yours. Do with me what you must. I want nothing but you, Your Grace'. After all the time he has spend with you, informed you about the well-being of the forst, he not only got closer to you than anyone else. He also lost his feeling of shame.

He is much more open with you, less reserved. He only seeks for you attention, touch, your gaze, anything at all.

You look down from your throne to see Tighnari kneeling before you, his eyes downcast. He does not speak, but nods. "Yes." His tone is quiet. He stares at the floor without moving. He's utterly ashamed, this hit him straight in the face without mercy.

With this scene playing in front of you, you can't help but have a little fun. "I didn't quite hear you Tighnari, would you mind repeating yourself?"

His tone is slightly louder as he repeats himself: "Yes." He still stares at the floor. His heart beats furiously. He is still and patient. His body is relaxed on the outside. On the inside, though, he is utterly in turmoil. "Good boy, I am proud of you that you spoke up~"

Tighnari's breathing is deep and steady, as if he is forcing himself to calm his nerves. His stomach is tied in knots, but he tries his best to ignore it. He is yours, and he knows not to speak unless he is spoken to.

He shifts slightly to try and get more comfortable, though he does not look at you as he does so. Despite himself, he blushes. The sudden intimacy of your touch on his ears sends a wave of sensation through him. His face turns an immediate dark red, but he does not move away from your touch.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of your fingers running through his hair. Every touch is pure ecstasy. "'m your good boy..." he breathes.

Scaramouche - Eternity stretches things out over a long time. But each moment within it becomes all the more fragile

"Come closer" Scaramouche's expression is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of concern to his voice as he approaches you.

"Yes, Your Grace. What do you need?" He says it in such a manner that could be interpreted either as a formal servant, or a concerned companion. "Closer" A small frown tenses Scaramouche's brow as he moves closer. Your expression is neutral, and as he kneels before you, his heart is hammering loudly in his chest; and he knows he has done something wrong. Despite this, he obeys your command nonetheless.

"What's wrong? You seem upest?" You're worried you may have sounded to rough. After all he is a sensitive boy. "I thought... I thought you called me because I had done something that displeased you," he says after a moment, and though he tries to swallow down his mounting anxiety, it shows in his voice. "Is there... something... I have done wrong?"

"No!" your heart starts to ache at this, "My good boy could never do anything wrong" Scaramouche's expression softens, and a single, brief smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

His brows furrow again, as he tries to figure out the underlying reason you have called for him. Despite the fact that he is no longer frightened, he can't quite understand your intentions.

"Why... have you called for me, then, Your Grace?" He asks gently, still kneeling before you. "To praise my good boy" and with saying that you gently caress his face.

Scaramouche closes his eyes in your touch. The warmth and softness of your touch is enough to take his breath away. He leans forward, unconsciously seeking more from your caress. But at the same time, he is afraid to lean too far, lest he make you upset.

"Yes, I am your... good little boy."

He tilts his head upward, the need to gaze into your eyes and bask in your love overwhelming whatever modesty that held him back from your touch. He wants nothing more than to be as close to you as physically possible.

"All for me?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he croaks as he inclines his head, his gaze locked onto yours.

"All for you."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #Sagau Al-Haitham #Sagau Kaveh #Sagau Cyno #Sagau Tighnari #sagau scaramouche #al haitam x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader

2K notes · View notes

uplatterme · 1 year

Text

all out?

—sub!scara/dom!reader, amab!reader | office sex, exhibitionism

—not beta read so excuse some mistakes if there are any TT

honestly, scaramouche should have seen this coming.

he stares at his empty cabinet, dumbfounded that there’s nothing inside it. surely not…

the balladeer wants to scream. just his luck, that it happened today too, when there’s a meeting scheduled that he cannot skip.

“fuck.”

the harbinger walks through the chilling halls of the zapolyarny palace. the cold has never bothered him in any shape or form, yet today proves to be an exception.

there are lower-ranked fatui passing by, hastily running off, not wanting to meet his gaze. an action that he isn’t unfamiliar to.

he hisses and stops when a certain ginger blemishes his view.

“looks like someone’s having a bad day!” he greets.

for a moment there, scaramouche thinks that he’s caught red-handed. not until he realizes that the youngest harbinger couldn’t have possibly seen through his facade.

“you’re deafeningly loud.” he bites back, continuing his steps despite the aching in his lower half.

“ah, still the same as ever. not that im surprised.” he says, chuckling echoing through the halls.

“the meeting’s to start in a few, although the director and the overseer hasn’t arrived yet.” tartaglia informs.

he flushes at the mention of your title, the one behind this problem that he’s facing right now.

“hello?” he calls out.

“can you learn to shut up just at least once?!” he yells.

currently, he sits on the chair provided for him, next to pulcinella and sandrone. as long as he doesn’t get seated next to that blue-haired freak, he considers any situation to be pleasant.

the door opens with a slam and the rest of the harbingers bow their head as greeting. there you stand, that folder you always carry in your arms and a pen between your fingers.

that’s when the memories comes back to him.

flashes of each time you’ve ripped his underwear with those fingers of yours, the scene claws into his brain as he bows down his head in unison with the others.

it was fine the first time. it was only a one-time thing, after all.

oh, how naive he was thinking that.

he then realizes that it wasn’t a one-time thing, seeing as there’s none of them left in his cabinet, forced to attend this meeting with his cock slapping against his thigh each time he walks.

it’s embarrassing. he seethes at your voice, talking about some topic that he couldn’t give a shit about. he adores when your tone is like that, commanding and strict. the more you speak, the more the harbinger wants to cave in.

his cock presses hardly to his shorts, begging for any kind of attention. unfortunately, he’s forced to endure it. to sit there in agony while he stares at you, giving out orders.

oh, how he wishes that you bend him against the table right now.

he can see it visibly twitch from underneath his clothing. if you were to see this, what would you have done? scaramouche’s imagination runs wild, thinking of how you’d make him take your cock. overusing his body and milking him dry. a doll, whose only purpose is to serve you.

“balladeer?” he snaps back to reality, hearing you mention him.

he bites back a needy whine, feeling everyone’s attention now centered on him.

“yeah?” he spit out, his eyes meeting with yours.

“you’ll be sent off to a separate mission, is that all right with you?”

god, you could ask him to do anything and he’d agree.

“sure.”

when the meeting ends, his body was moving on its own, moving towards you to grab you and pinning you to the wall.

“you! you better take care of this!” he shouts.

you were confused at first but it didn’t take you long to see his cock fully outlined through his tight shorts.

“why should i? you’re the one who decided to attend this meeting like that.”

he groans. he does not have the time for any of your teasing right now.

“you kept tearing through—just, ugh!

fuck me already!”

his voice echoes throughout the room. he would have never expected this kind of situation to happen but he needed you so badly. he’s been hot and bothered ever since this morning.

he lets out a relieved groan once he feels his abdomen pressing on the table.

then, next comes the sound of his shorts being ripped apart. he would have complained about your tendency to tear through his clothes but all the complaints in his head goes away once he feels your fingers digging inside of him.

“hnngghh—fuck, finally. only thing you’re fucking good for—oh god!”

“shit, shit, shit!”

his face presses up on his hands, far too drunk as drool goes down his chin. he’s loving each movement inside of him, the satisfaction and pleasure you give are intoxicating him and he wants more.

his body squirms, his feet constantly misplacing themselves on the floor. his dick leaking precum as you stroke it at a pace, leaving him panting and breathing like a dog who had just gone for a run.

“look at you, all loose already…your body’s just made for fucking, isn’t it? always wanting to prove something when you can just show everybody how much of a cumdump you are.”

scara grunts at your insult (praise?), wanting to spit back something to defend himself. but his body is then shifted around, his back laying on the cold table as you took no time in penetrating his hole.

his mouth is left wide open by the stretch. it burns but god, he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pain. the pain that would soon then transition into pleasure by each. single. thrust.

pounding into him mercilessly, his mouth being covered by his own mouth to desperately hide his cries from enjoying it too much, smiling underneath.

eventually, he just decides to let go. his hands reaching up to fondle his own chest, playing with his nipples while you shape him into your own cocksleeve, his leg up as you wanted better access into fucking him as much as you can.

scara’s so damn loud. of course, he doesn’t notice it. nor does he notice a certain redhead blushing needing to do a double take to see if he’s seeing the right thing.

“f-fill me up! fuck, please!”

“haaah—! more, more!”

after a while, those sentences are no longer coherent as he’s turned to just moaning and whimpering, slurring his words that you can barely understand.

the table is a cum-filled mess, his dick spurting out white as his eyes roll back the furthest they can into his head.

and yet, he doesn’t stop.

even better, he’s started to match your rhythm and grind himself onto you.

there’s a bit of a swelling in his belly from your cum and yet that isn’t seen as a blockade.

each thrust, your cum slipping out of him and back into him and the warm feeling of your stickiness is just enough to send him over the edge.

in the end, he’s left with a satisfied smile. laughing and chuckling while struggling to breathe, his walls aching and not sure if he wants more or to just stop moving for as long as he can.

one thing’s for sure though,

he’s completely forgotten that his shorts are torn apart.

#q #plattered writings #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub scaramouche #sub!scara #genshin x reader smut #scaramouche x reader #sub scara #dom reader #dom!reader

2K notes · View notes

byooregard · 11 months

Text

TAKUTO MARUKI? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING TAKUTO MARUKI GODDAMN FOOL PAPER WRITING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY TAKUTO MARUKI

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT TAKUTO MARUKI I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MUCH FUCKED UP RESEARCH WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL EFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME.

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said takuto maruki was on the other side i would piss on god's feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down.

if i have to deal with takuto maruki speaking one word in person on voice in podcast not only will i close the tab i will delete my save out of spite and have to replay the entire game again for the experience of getting to skip any time when he is mentioned or alive

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he writes papers but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if he's just some academic shithead who's a fan of fix it fics and wanted the irl version ill go ham BETTER have had the metaverse make him kill a man because if he didn't im gonna make him

paypal.com/IFuckingHateTakutoMaruki

arcs not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his palace and I lost it where the fuck is takuto maruki if he's still alive im going to deeply wish he wasnt

crusty old man

i'll punch maruki and his sad school counselor twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all that's left is one paper he kept on him at all times simply titled Now You Fucked Up in ancient Yiddish.

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when takuto died or will die so i can set a reminder for it on my phone

everyday once a year i will look at it and do anything but pay respect for the man who had so much fucked up if true ideas

#not tagging him but #p5 #p5r #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #cleb talky

2K notes · View notes

prythianpages · 4 months

Text

Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you."

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #acotar rhysand #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

728 notes · View notes

m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

Text

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // SIX

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: Two separate encounters with two different Firebenders yield revelations of the sort you are unprepared to face.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: i have been writing like crazy recently AHAHA but anyways apologies in advance to anyone expecting anything different from this 😫

“I’m so sad that the break is over. It wasn’t nearly long enough,” Jia-Li said as the two of you returned to your room for the first time since you had left it for Ember Island.

“Our beds look a lot smaller in comparison to the ones on Ember Island,” you said. Jia-Li snorted.

“That’s for sure. And did the room shrink while we were gone?” she said.

“It definitely looks like it,” you said. “At least we don’t have class until tomorrow.”

“Do you think Ty Lee is back yet?” she said. “We should go to the market. It’ll be fun.”

“I should probably do some reading so that I’m ready for tomorrow,” you said.

“Don’t be a spoilsport! I doubt you forgot anything in the short time we were gone, seriously. You’ll be okay if you skip out on reading for one day and come enjoy yourself with the rest of us,” Jia-Li said.

You gave the stack of books on your desk a longing look before nodding firmly, knowing Jia-Li was right, and furthermore that Ty Lee would agree with her. It was just as important for you to socialize as it was for you to study hard, and going to the market wasn’t so time-consuming that it would leave you unable to do anything for the rest of the day.

“Alright, but only if you don’t complain about me reading tonight,” you said. “The book I’m on currently is really interesting.”

“What’s it about?” Jia-Li said.

“The history of Ba Sing Se,” you said. “Since I was found there, I thought that learning more about it might spark some memories in me. All things considered, it’s not as boring as one might expect. The chapter I’m about to start is on the royal family and the construction of the palace.”

“To be honest, I don’t see how you find that so fascinating, but if that’s what you like, then who am I to stop you? Sure, you can leave the candle burning a bit longer in order to finish your chapter if we get back too late,” she said.

“Thanks,” you said. “You are the best roommate ever.”

“You flatter me,” she said. “Open up, Ty Lee!”

“What if Kaho is the one at the door?” you said, grabbing her hand to stop her from continuing to bang on it. Jia-Li huffed at you.

“She’s not going to be back until the evening. Don’t you remember how much she was bragging about having to stay late to submit her official reports from the meeting and all of that?” she said. You let go of her hand, for you did remember that. Once freed, Jia-Li continued to knock.

“Coming!” a muffled voice said, and then the door was swinging open to reveal Ty Lee, who was standing on her hands for some reason. “Ursa! Jia-Li! What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to ask you if you would come to the market with us,” you said, twisting your neck so that she would come into proper perspective. To your chagrin, it did nothing but make you dizzy, so you gave up and decided to just look down on her upside-down visage.

“Sure!” she said, rocking herself onto her feet and standing properly. “How were your breaks?”

“They were good,” Jia-Li said. “Very relaxing, but way too short.”

“We did see you at one point,” you reminded her. Ty Lee giggled.

“Right, at that stupid party! I heard you guys ended up partaking in the festivities, if you’re catching my meaning,” she said.

“Yes, that’s right,” you said. Jia-Li grinned, flames dancing in her palm before she curled her fist and extinguished them.

“It was fun,” she said. “You were on to something, Ty Lee. It was exactly what we needed.”

“Jia-Li’s brother was not happy with us when he found out,” you said. “But it’s fine. He’ll make up with her, I’m sure, and as for me…it’s fine if we never speak again.”

“Onto the next,” Jia-Li said. “It’s alright. You win some, you lose some.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “What about you? What were you up to when you weren’t on Ember Island?”

“Strategizing with Azula, mostly,” Ty Lee said. “You know, she killed the Avatar around when Zuko took over Ba Sing Se.”

“Really?” you said. Ty Lee nodded.

“Yup, I saw it myself! He was about to go all glowy-white-eyes on her, and she just shot him with lightning before he could,” she said.

Killing an Avatar as a normal person was unheard of, and Princess Azula wasn’t even a master yet. She was clearly a prodigy, but you knew from Ty Lee that she was still training, though her training was so advanced that it was theoretically impossible for normal Firebenders such as Jia-Li and even Kaho to accomplish. The fact that she had done something as legendary as defeating an Avatar without full mastery of her element spoke to her skill and talents, and you swore then and there to never get on her bad side.

“That’s insane,” Jia-Li said. “I always knew she was on another level from the rest of us, but I didn’t realize until now just how large that skill gap was.”

“Mhm, but for some reason, she’s gotten to be crazy paranoid recently. She’s convinced that he’s not really dead, and she’s been losing sleep over it,” Ty Lee said. “It’s tainting her victory, and she’s been meeting with Mai and I nonstop on what we should do in case he proves to be alive.”

“It’s better to be prepared than not,” you said. “Though she probably doesn’t have much to worry about. If the Avatar was alive, he probably would’ve made himself known, don’t you think? I doubt it would be easy for an Airbender to hide himself, especially not one as powerful as the Avatar surely is.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her, but she’s still worried,” Ty Lee said. “So my break was mostly work, except for that one weekend on Ember Island.”

“That’s a shame,” Jia-Li said.

“Next break, I’m going to sleep the entire time,” Ty Lee vowed. “Every day I’m at the school serves as a reminder of why I dropped out in the first place, and I need my body and aura to recover from this kind of environment.”

“I always forget you did that,” you said.

“Why’d you come back?” Jia-Li said. “It’s obvious you hate it here, and you have a place in the palace already, so it’s not as though you’re going to climb the ranks socially by attending.”

“Simple! I’m here to keep an eye on Ursa!” Ty Lee said. “Not that she needs it, but Prince Zuko asked me to come along and help her acclimate to the environment of the academy, since we weren’t sure if she’d be able to handle it or not.”

“That’s a lot more logical than you suddenly developing a passion for the scholarly pursuits, which is what I had previously thought was the reasoning,” Jia-Li said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever develop that,” Ty Lee said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll leave the academic stuff to Ursa.”

“Me, too,” Jia-Li said.

“Hey, come on, guys. Reading is fun,” you said, though it was obviously unconvincing, as both of them made faces at you. “Or not, I guess.”

“Let’s stop talking about school, please,” Ty Lee said. “It’s bad enough that we have classes tomorrow. We don’t need to ruin our free time by thinking about them now, too!”

“It’s not a problem for me,” Jia-Li said. “Maybe Ursa will have some difficulty, though.”

“Shut up! No, I won’t!” you said. “You won’t hear me speaking about school for the rest of the outing.”

“Does that include whenever you drop your random little factoids to explain whatever’s going on at any given time?” Jia-Li said.

“Hopefully not,” Ty Lee said. “I’d be way too confused without her narrating everything.”

“True,” Jia-Li said. “Okay, you can talk about those, but no more explicit mentions of the academy. Or of reading. Or of other things along those lines.”

“I already agreed!” you said. “Honestly, you guys have such a low opinion of me. Anyways, do either of you have anything specific to get at the market, or are we just wandering around?”

“Maybe I’ll get a new hair ribbon, but I’m not particularly attached to the idea, so I’m alright no matter where we go,” Jia-Li said.

“I don’t have anything I need, so we can go look at the hair ribbon stalls if you want, Jia-Li,” Ty Lee said.

“It’s the same for me,” you said. “Besides, it’s not like I really have money to spend, which means I’ll just admire the different shops, so I have no particular preference for where we go. Lead the way, Jia-Li; you’d know the market best, anyways.”

“Ty Lee probably knows it pretty well, too,” Jia-Li said.

“Nope, I ran away to join the circus, remember? I haven’t been here for a while! Even when I came back to the palace, I was always with Azula and Mai, and they’re not really the type to enjoy walking around the market, so it’s been a bit,” Ty Lee said.

“Then it really is up to me,” Jia-Li said, straightening her shoulders and nodding firmly. “Follow me, girls!”

You and Ty Lee marched after Jia-Li as she strode towards a stall decorated with hair ribbons of every shade. Some were patterned the way Kaho’s was, whereas others were solid-colored, like the one Jia-Li tended to wear. All of them were beautiful, richly made and finely dyed, and you could not help running your fingers over a few of them in appreciation.

“What do you think of this one?” Jia-Li said, holding up a red ribbon that had white flowers embroidered on it. “The one I have right now is so plain.”

“It’s very nice,” you said.

“I like it!” Ty Lee said. “You should get it.”

“Do you think so? Let’s see. How much is this for?” Jia-Li said. As she began to argue with the merchant about the price, you found yourself wandering off, observing the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, the different vendors and their goods, the mothers with their little children rifling through their purses full of gold coins, the serious soldiers standing at attention in uniform — and the not so serious ones with their helmets off and tucked under their arms as they talked to each other. Though the market was so large in scale, it was more like a collection of small, intimate snapshots of domesticity than a grand, epic portrait woven together out of perfectly conjoined parts.

There were so many different stories happening at once. People cried and laughed and argued and bantered on these streets. They lived their lives, unknowing of what would happen to them next or what those at their sides were going through. It was one of those mundane sort of miracles, the sort that were so commonplace that nobody would find them miraculous unless they stepped back and thought about them for a moment.

“Did you hear the news?” someone said to you. You tilted your head at the woman, who had her hand held in front of her mouth politely. “Apparently, there’s a prisoner on the loose!”

“What? In the capital?” you said. She nodded.

“Word has it that he deserted the army during the fall of Ba Sing Se and was promptly captured by Prince Zuko, who sent him to prison. But now he’s escaped! It’s all so frightening,” she said. “Be careful. You’re a student at the academy, aren’t you? My daughter is in her first year there, so I recognized the uniform. You should hurry back to the campus — it’s much safer there.”

“Thank you for the warning,” you said. “I hope you stay safe as well, madam.”

It had been an odd encounter, but for some reason, it wasn’t the random nature of the conversation that made you uneasy. Such things happened at markets, and especially because you apparently went to school with her daughter, it made sense that she had approached you. No, it was the story itself that you were worried about.

The History Mistress had never mentioned anyone deserting the army, besides the former General Iroh. That meant that this escaped prisoner, whoever they were, must’ve been some foot soldier so unimportant that they were not even worthy of the simplest sentence in your lectures, but that begot another question — how had a simple foot soldier escaped a Fire Nation prison?

The haggard man in front of you walked with a limp, and the exposed skin that you could see was littered with scars. Unlike what you would’ve assumed, though, the scars were clearly not from burns. They were cuts, deep lacerations that stood out red and furious against his arms, his neck, his ankles and even his face.

He must’ve been in a terrible battle, but for some reason, no one paid him any mind. The crowds parted around him before melting back together, like he had never been there in the first place. It was only you that followed, you who was entranced, matching his every step with your own. There was some burning desire in you that needed to follow him. You couldn’t place it, couldn’t understand its origin or any part of its existence, but you just knew you had to fulfill it. So you went after the man, growing steadily closer and closer until you could hear what he was muttering to himself.

“Gave everything…fought for that damn prince…what does it get me? Going to kill that girl. Going to kill that girl. What does it get me? Gave everything for that damn prince. Going to kill her. I have to kill her,” he said, over and over, repeating the same phrases on loop.

“Excuse me, sir, but are you alright?” you said when the two of you reached a dead end and the man stood still, facing the wall, continuing to say the same breathless things.

“I knew it,” he said. “I knew someone was following me. We Soldiers of Agni, we know these things.”

“Soldiers of Agni?” you said. The man still did not turn around, pressing his hands against the stone wall and resting his forehead against it. “They’re all dead, sir. They fell during the invasion of Ba Sing Se.”

“And don’t I know it!” the man said. “We gave everything for that prince, and what did it lead us to? Death! Death, you foolish girl, all of my comrades are dead! I’m the only one who survived that wench’s onslaught, but instead of being treated as the hero I am, I was renounced as a traitor. Prince Zuko took my status as a Soldier of Agni away, and he threw me in some dungeon to rot. Tell me how that’s fair!”

“I think you’re confused, sir,” you said, stepping away from him, questioning your own instincts for landing you into this situation. Because this was definitely the prisoner that the woman had been talking about, and since that was the case, you were almost certainly in danger. “Prince Zuko would never do something like that. He is a kind and just person. He even saved me!”

He spun around. “He saved — you!”

Before you knew it, there was a blast of fire heading directly for you. You barely leapt out of the way and readied yourself to fight, but even if the prisoner was telling the truth and he really had once been a Soldier of Agni, his reflexes and musculature had faded during his time locked away. No matter how much he tried, nothing but wisps of smoke escaped his hands, and he shouted in fury before rushing at you.

“What are you doing?” you said as you began to run as well.

“I’m going to kill you!” he said, his voice breaking as he did so. “You took everything from me, so I’m going to kill you!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” you said in distress. “I’m just a student at the Royal Fire Academy! I haven’t taken anything from anyone!”

“Is that where you are now, you sly witch?” he spat. “It wasn’t enough for you to destroy us all? You have to infiltrate our nation, too? Get out of here, scum!”

“What are you saying?” you said.

“My comrades are dead because of you,” he said. “I’m in prison because of you. I have to — I have to get justice. If that Agni-damned Prince Zuko really did save you, if he really is just letting you walk around and pretend to be one of us, then the Fire Nation is doomed. I have to do what I must for my country! In the name of Fire Lord Ozai, I will kill you, once and for all!”

“Huh?” you said. “I was a prisoner in Ba Sing Se! I don’t have the faintest clue how I could’ve killed your comrades.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. You don’t have to lie in front of me. I was there, wench. I know what you really are,” he said.

“And what might that be?” you said, skidding to a stop before you crashed into a wall and turning to face him, getting into the hand-to-hand combat stance that you had been trained to adopt at the academy.

“The—” Before he could finish, his eyes widened, and then he was falling over. It was Ty Lee; she had jabbed her fingers into his pressure points in a quick but familiar succession, and now she was standing over him, disapproval etched on her face.

“Ursa! There you are!” Jia-Li said, rounding the corner and almost tripping over the fallen man. “Who is that?”

“He’s an escaped prisoner,” you said. “He claimed he used to be one of the Soldiers of Agni.”

“I thought they were all dead, though?” Jia-Li said.

“They are,” Ty Lee said. “He must’ve been rambling about nothing.”

“Definitely,” Jia-Li said. “What Soldier of Agni would just faint like that for no reason?”

“It wasn’t exactly for no reason. I used my chi-blocking to take him out!” Ty Lee said.

“Chi-blocking?” Jia-Li said as the man groaned, beginning to wake up.

“It’s a pretty useful skill,” Ty Lee said. “All sorts of applications. It can temporarily take away bending, incapacitate people, and more! It’s the way for nonbenders like me to level the playing field and stand a chance even against the strongest of benders.”

“That’s why you aren’t afraid of Kaho!” Jia-Li said.

“Yup!” Ty Lee said.

“Who are you girls?” the man said groggily, pushing himself to his feet.

“I thought you knew who I was?” you said. “You said so yourself!”

“How would he know who you are?” Jia-Li said.

“No idea, but he seemed pretty sure just a second ago,” you said.

“For some reason, I think I do,” the man said. “But I don’t know how or why. There’s just a blank spot in my memories. I can’t — I can’t remember anything.”

“That’s strange,” Jia-Li said.

“He must’ve hit his head when he fell,” Ty Lee said.

“Right,” you said, though when she stooped over to pick the man up and bring him to the nearby soldiers, you narrowed your eyes at her.

You knew that chi-blocking sequence. You knew it well, because Ty Lee had used it on you before, still used it on you even now. You had never questioned it much, never found any merit in doing so. Ty Lee was infamous for being an airhead, so you had always put the strange ritual down as another one of her oddities. But what if it wasn’t? There was no way that the man had hit his head hard enough to forget everything so quickly, especially not when he had been so confident only seconds prior.

The more likely scenario was that Ty Lee had somehow blocked his memories when she had blocked his chi. It made the most sense, but if that really was the case, then what motive did she have to do the same for you? It was uncomfortable thinking about it, but you couldn’t stop the question from reverberating around your mind for the rest of the day.

Was Ty Lee the reason you didn’t remember anything?

That night, when Jia-Li was asleep and you were getting ready to settle in bed yourself, there was a knock on your door. Quickly blowing out the candle and making sure that the door was locked, you leapt into your bed and pulled the covers over your head, squeezing your eyes shut and pretending to be fast asleep.

“Ursa?” It was Ty Lee. “Are you awake?”

You knew what she was there for. It was about the time for her to — if your assumption was correct — block your chi, and possibly your memories. You had never protested, and you didn’t want her to grow suspicious of you in case that led to her taking even more drastic measures, but you also knew you had to avoid her for the time being if you ever wanted to remember who you were.

Just for a couple of days. You only had to stay away from her for a couple of days, and if nothing changed, then you would return to her side and act as if you both were friends once more.

“Are you and Ty Lee fighting?” Jia-Li said the next morning. You were currently suffering from a massive migraine, massaging your temples as you tried to block the light from hitting your eyes, but you managed to shake your head in the negative.

“No, we’re not,” you said. “Why?”

“You didn’t talk to her all morning, and you sat next to me instead of her, the way you usually do. I think she was a little sad about it,” Jia-Li said.

“I just have a really bad headache,” you said.

“Do you need to go to the infirmary?” Jia-Li said. “If you can’t handle class, I’ll tell the Etiquette Mistress. You’re already her favorite pupil, so she shouldn’t mind.”

“No, I’ll go,” you said, knowing that it was of the utmost importance that you didn’t go anywhere alone. It would be an opportunity for Ty Lee to chi-block you again, one you did not need to create, not if you wanted your experiment to be successful. “I’m sure I’ll get over it with something to drink.”

Yet, despite the cups upon cups of water you chugged, it didn’t do anything to dissipate your headache. It was like there was someone pushing on your brow, crushing your head together, the heaviness seeping down behind your eyes and into your jaw. You thought you might be close to implosion, but there was never a moment of relief. The pressure just kept mounting and mounting until you really did wish for someone to take a hammer to your skull and break it open so that you could finally be freed from the pain.

“Ursa, Jia-Li,” Kaho said as you entered the classroom, her voice filled with venom. “I can’t believe you’re daring to show your faces today.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” you said, far too preoccupied with your migraine to temper your irritation with your usual politeness. “We’re students at the academy, the same as you, Kaho.”

“I thought you might be ashamed of yourself after your performance during the break, at Ember Island,” she said.

“What performance?” you said.

“You destroyed my house!” she said. “I know you all did. You and that group of losers from the beach, whoever they were. My brother told me all about it.”

“Your brother’s the biggest fool I’ve ever met,” you said. “Followed closely by Ruon-Jian. Neither of them recognized the prince and princess even when they were right in front of them.”

“Don’t call my brother a fool,” she said.

“It must be a familial trait,” you continued.

“Ursa, what are you doing?” Jia-Li said.

“I have way too much of a headache to deal with her squealing right now,” you said harshly. “Chan is an idiot and we helped destroy her house. It’s true, but it matters little to me, and I wish she’d just go and wallow in her misery somewhere far from where I am!”

“You’re playing with fire,” Jia-Li fretted. “Quite literally.”

“Can you just leave me alone for once, Kaho?” you said.

“You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?” Kaho said. “You’ve taken my spot as the top student, and you’re favored by Prince Zuko, so you believe that makes you my superior. But there’s one thing that you’ll never have.”

“And what might that be? An insufferable attitude, or a particularly hideous—” you were cut off by Jia-Li slapping her hand over your mouth.

“She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Jia-Li apologized. “The migraine is making her delirious.”

Kaho ignored her, staring directly at you, the anger which she was so well-known for blazing to life in her irises. It was the same way she had glared at you after defeating that one underclassman in an Agni Kai. It was the same way she glared at you every time you corrected her in class or got a better result than her on an exam. It was the same way she glared at you whenever you received a letter from Prince Zuko while in the dining hall.

She hated you. You had known this for some time, but you had never understood it until that moment. Kaho despised everything you were, but more than that, she despised that she was jealous of you. She was used to everything going her way, and yet, here you were, a girl who had no memories and no background and no bloodline, taking without difficulty everything that was once hers.

It should never have been yours. To Kaho, you were nobody, a girl from rubble who stole everything from the rightfully deserving. And now here you were, insulting her in front of everyone, clearly rising above the place she had designated for you in her mind. It was an offense of the highest order, and in that instant, you came to the conclusion that you would not escape unpunished. Kaho would no longer allow you to walk over her without retaliation.

“Firebending,” Kaho said. “That’s what I have, and I will always, always be your better, because you can’t even bend.”

“Maybe not,” you said, swallowing and then deciding that if you were already doomed, you might as well have the last word. “It makes it more embarrassing for you, though, doesn’t it? That a nonbender has beat you so thoroughly in everything else? That you can only cling to your bending to maintain your sense of superiority?”

“That’s it,” Kaho said. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“You’ve really done it now, Ursa,” Jia-Li groaned. “Don’t even think of asking me to be your proxy. I don’t have a death wish.”

“I do,” you said. “And I’ll save you the trouble. I challenge you to an Agni Kai, Kaho.”

If an Agni Kai was declared, classes were suspended so that the school could watch. Though they were so brutal in nature, they were actually encouraged by the administration, as they served to weed out the weaker students, leaving behind only the strongest, the best of the best.

At present, the field where you and Kaho were going to fight was utterly cleared, though staff and students alike gathered on the edges to watch the event. It had been anticipated for some time, this clash between the two top students of the academy, even if one of them couldn’t Firebend.

“You’re seriously not even calling a proxy?” Jia-Li said.

“Who would I call?” you said, rolling your shoulders. “She’s beaten every girl at this academy already, and I’m not about to beg the prince to save me.”

“Let go of your pride for once and do exactly that!” Jia-Li said. “You couldn’t even take me in a fight, so you can just forget about facing Kaho.”

“Actually, she can manage,” Ty Lee said grimly. You didn’t know where she had come from, but there she stood, her face set, her posture stiff. “Ursa. I don’t know why he said it, but for some reason, Zuko seemed to think that you were strong. Stronger than the rest of us, in fact.”

“He told me as much,” you said. “I don’t know why he said it, either, but for some reason, I don’t think he was lying. At least, he seemed to really believe it, which means there must be some thought behind it all.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a prodigy with weapons on par with Master Piandao himself!” Jia-Li said. “Against someone like Kaho, you either need to be a bender or have unusual skills the way Ty Lee does. Can you claim either of those things?”

“I don’t know, Jia-Li,” you said. “I don’t think so. Yet I have to do this all the same. She’s gone unchecked for far too long.”

“And you’ll be the one to check her?” Jia-Li said, throwing her hands up in the air. “I wish you had just gone to the infirmary like I had told you to!”

“Let’s go, Jia-Li,” Ty Lee said. “It’s time. Good luck, Ursa.”

Another pang. You forced yourself to smile through the pain, not wanting to show weakness right when you were about to get into a fight. Ty Lee smiled back, though Jia-Li did not muster the same energy, wailing despondently about how she was going to lose another roommate as Ty Lee dragged her off the field.

“This is your last chance, Ursa,” Kaho said. “If you fall to your knees and grovel, if you accept your place in this world, and if you renounce your ties with the royal family, then I will spare you.”

“I cannot do either of those things,” you said. “And you cannot ask me to.”

“I will not be gentle,” Kaho warned. “I was kind in my last Agni Kai, so perhaps you think that you will get off in a similarly unharmed way. If that is the case, then I want you to know that you are wrong. I will burn my victory into your skin so deeply that you can never look into the mirror without being reminded of the day you angered the wrong person.”

“My head is already full of pain, nearly to the bursting,” you said. “What is one more wound? Do your worst, Kaho. Even if I lose today, I will still have won in the end.”

“And how is that?” Kaho said. You grinned at her.

“Because I’ve shown everyone else at this academy exactly the sort of person you are,” you said. “You can’t beat a nonbender at anything else, so you have to challenge them to an Agni Kai in order to cling to the last threads of your former glory. You’re really very pathetic, and no matter how thoroughly you burn me, you can’t change that.”

“Did no one ever teach you to hold your tongue?” Kaho said, taking a deep breath, fire flickering at her fingertips.

“Certainly, at some point, someone must have,” you said. “But I shouldn’t know when or who or what the purpose of the lesson was. Don’t you recall that I have no memories?”

No one could say that Kaho wasn’t talented. The way she used her Firebending was like an extension of herself, as brutal and efficient as her clinical personality. It wasn’t that she was incredibly powerful — she just did not waste even a drop of energy, focusing her entire being into her forms, which were done with a clear accuracy that was difficult to dodge.

She punched a lick of fire at you, deadly hot, the air shimmering in the aftermath of it as it dissipated into nothingness, barely avoiding singing the edges of your clothes. You employed every trick you had learnt, for the longer you could draw out the fight, the worse it looked for her.

It was a game that you could not win. It was a game you were destined to lose, but — and maybe this was your past knowledge speaking — you had to play along. The outcome was determined, but you still had to play.

“Why did you come here?” Kaho screamed, her careful control slipping the more times she missed burning you. It was like her words drove a knife through your head, and the only reason your faltering was not a fatal blunder was because she, too, was growing more and more errant in her strikes. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“You’re the one trying to immolate me!” you said, sweat pouring from your brow, your shirt sticking to your collarbones and your pants clinging to your legs. “Why don’t you raise that question to yourself?”

“You!” she said. “Why are you speaking so elegantly? Are you mocking me?”

“Of all the things, you choose to criticize my manner of speaking? Your sense of prioritization is as horrid as your personality,” you said.

More fire. This time, the hem of your shirt did catch alight, but you put it out before it could reach your skin, so it didn’t count as a first burn. It did, however, mean two things: you were getting tired, and Kaho was losing even more of her composure.

“You came here,” she said. “I was alright before! But you came here and decided that everything I had was yours. My place in society, my standing in the school…the happy ending I was born to inherit has all gone to you!”

“Happy ending?” you said. “Do you think I care about something as superficial and fantastical as that? I don’t even have a beginning! Have you ever taken a second thought about your hatred? You can choose the direction of your life, Kaho. Whether happy or sad or anything in between, you know who you are. I do not have such a luxury. You resent my friendship with the prince, but if I do not have him, I have nothing left of my past! I helped destroy your house, yes, but at least you have a house — and it was only one of many. I don’t even have a shack in the woods to call my own!”

“Exactly,” Kaho said. “You should be begging on the streets, yet you are here. But no longer. No longer will I allow you to exist beside me, as if we are equals.”

Your eyes widened as her words sank in. This wasn’t just an Agni Kai anymore. She would not stop once she burnt you. It didn’t matter how completely; you had been wagering that you could eventually heal from whatever she inflicted on you. But, according to Kaho, she was not planning on you ever healing. She was planning on you dying.

Without Kaho’s fire, the air was almost cold. Goosebumps raised on your bare arms, though whether it was from chill or fright, you were not sure. Kaho was incredibly still, her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply, centering herself, drawing strength from the core of her bending — her breath. Everyone else was silent, though you thought you could hear someone, perhaps Jia-Li, repeating a prayer to Agni frantically, begging him to protect you from Kaho’s wrath.

You did no such thing. There was a voice in your head, whispering past the pain, telling you that Agni was not your god. You could not pray to him. You could not pray to a lord of destruction. You could not pray to the deity who had ruined your home.

You did not question this voice, though by all rights it was contrary to the little you knew of yourself. You were a Fire Nation soldier. Agni had not ruined your home, he had saved it. He was the one whose banner you had fought under. He was the one whose name you had been tortured in. He was your patron.

No. He was not. He was Kaho’s. He was Zuko’s. He was Jia-Li’s. But you were not a Firebender. You were something else. What? It was inexplicable, but your bones resonated with that truth as the effects of Ty Lee’s continuous chi-blocking began to crumble, your headache finally alleviating as you had your first breakthrough.

Kaho opened her eyes, and then fire gathered in her palms. You stood your ground this time, rooting yourself into the dirt of the field, and as a wave of fire rolled towards you, destroying everything in its path, you cringed back and screwed your eyelids together but refused to move. This time, you would not move.

Right when the blistering temperature got to be too much, it was cut off, asphyxiated before its source could reach you. Then Kaho was hurling insults at you, calling you a mongrel, a filthy half-breed, a daughter of mud. You cracked your eyes open, wondering why she did not attack you once more, why she had ceased her assault at the instant before she would have won for certain.

There was a large wall of stone erected before you, shielding you from Kaho, impenetrable by even the hottest of fires, which certainly she did not possess. That wall had not been there before, and the names which Kaho was calling you suddenly made sense — because you had created the wall. It was yours.

You were an Earthbender.

Within seconds, every single person that had borne witness to the Agni Kai was slumped over on the ground, including Kaho herself. Ty Lee used her momentum to flip over the wall, dropping to her feet before you and crossing her arms.

“You knew,” you said. “The entire time, you knew.”

“No,” she said. “Not exactly.”

“You’re the one who’s been blocking my memories, though,” you said. “Right? You would block my chi so that I couldn’t remember my past or use my Earthbending.”

“That’s right,” she said, bowing her head. She seemed apologetic, but nothing resembling pity filled you. The only emotion you could muster was disgust.

“Why?” you said. “What could have convinced you to do something like that? I thought we were friends, Ty Lee. Was that all a lie? Were you only staying close to me so that you could keep suppressing my memories?”

“No!” she said. “That was the reason at first, but I like spending time with you, Ursa. You really are one of my friends.”

She reached out as if to embrace you, but you took a step backwards so that she could not. She pulled back as if you had wounded her.

“My name isn’t Ursa, is it?” you said. “Who am I really, Ty Lee? Tell me the truth.”

“I have no idea,” she said. “He didn’t tell me anything about you. He just said it was for the best if you didn’t remember anything. I was so afraid the whole time, I thought Azula might be angry if she found out, but he was always so kind to me when I was younger that I thought I owed him at least this one favor…”

“Who?” you said. “Who is he? Who demanded you keep my memories from me?”

She gave you a miserable look. “Zuko.”

“That liar,” you said. It wasn’t just anger for the specific betrayal; there was some old rage quivering in you. You hated him. You hated him. You couldn’t say why, but you hated him. The ground shook, and Ty Lee glanced around nervously, but you paid her no mind. “He lied to me! He pretended like he cared, but the whole time, he was the one who did it! It’s his fault that I’m like this!”

“Don’t be angry,” Ty Lee pleaded. “I’m sure he had a reason. Just talk to him, and I’m sure he’ll explain!”

“Explain?” you said. “I don’t want to hear his explanations. I want him to pay for what he did!”

Another stake driven into your mind. It was your chi, you presumed, chipping away at the place where your memories were stored. There was still nothing concrete, but a sense of claustrophobia was creeping over you. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be somewhere else. You were supposed to be doing something, but Zuko — Zuko had snatched you away from that fate.

“Ursa,” Ty Lee said.

“Stop calling me that,” you said. “It’s not who I am.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to call you,” she said, clearly near tears. “Please calm down for a little bit. I blocked everyone’s chi in time; no one will remember this happened, so take the moment to settle and think things over. There’s no rush.”

“You can’t just do that,” you said. “You can’t keep blocking people’s memories at whim. They’re not yours to play with like that. Anyways, won’t they remember again? Are you really going to go around once a week and block everyone’s chi?”

“I was quick enough, and it was a small enough memory, that just one time will be sufficient,” she said. “No one will know what you’ve done, and I promise I won’t block your memories again if you stay.”

“I can’t trust you,” you said, straining with all your might to drive the stone wall back into the ground. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t.”

Dust flew up everywhere, but once it cleared, the field looked placid and undisturbed — barring, of course, the scorch marks left in the wake of Kaho’s attacks.

“What are you going to do now?” she said.

“I’m going to my room,” you said. “You can go ahead and tell Zuko I can Earthbend again. I’m sure you’ve been keeping him updated this entire time, so I won’t stop you.”

“He’ll want to come visit you,” Ty Lee said. And, because you did not want her to get in trouble, because despite what she had done there was still fondness for her buried deep within you, you only sighed and then nodded.

“Then he’ll do just that, I’d expect,” you said. “Goodbye, Ty Lee.”

You weren’t sure if she knew what you meant by the farewell. Maybe she did. For her own sake, you hoped she did not, or at least that she pretended that that was the case. She had in the end only been a tool of Zuko’s, so though you did not forgive her, you did not hate her, either.

Perhaps by a stroke of good fortune or perhaps by design, Jia-Li did not return to the room before dinner. This allowed you to collect your meager possessions, shoving them in the bag you had brought with you to Ember Island. Changing out of your uniform, you bit your lip before placing it in the trash. It was beyond salvaging, and besides, your time as Ursa was over. Now, you had to leave behind the life that the prince had created for you and figure out who you were, what your own life was like.

Fastening a cloak over your shoulders and tossing the hood up over your head to further disguise yourself, you slunk through the dormitory, staying in the shadows and hiding whenever people passed. In that manner, you managed to escape detection, reaching the academy’s aviary before anyone noticed you.

“Bian,” you whispered to your messenger hawk. She was instantly awake, cocking her head at you. You shook your own at her in the negative. “I don’t have a letter for you. There’s no one left for me to write to. I just wanted to tell you something: I’m leaving.”

Even if Bian had once been meant to be Prince Zuko’s, you had difficulty thinking of her as anything but yours. She was your friend, yourhawk, and though she was of the Fire Nation, of your time as Ursa, you could not let her go without saying farewell first, the way you would with the rest of it.

“I can’t tell anyone else,” you said. “It’ll just put them in danger. I can’t even say bye to Jia-Li. She’ll think I just ran away for no reason, and she was too loyal of a friend to deserve that, but I cannot implicate her in my defection from the academy. She’ll be the first they question, and I don’t know that she’ll lie convincingly enough to escape suspicion. So, then, when she says she has no idea where I’ve gone, she has to be telling the truth.”

Bian cooed at you; well, maybe calling the throaty sound cooing was being generous, but there was no other way to describe it, and the sentiment was the same. She was trying, in her own way, to comfort you, and you extended your arms to her perch so that you could rub the soft, tiny feathers of her cheeks.

“Thank you for being my hawk,” you said. “Be good for whoever owns you next — unless it is the prince, in which case I give you full permission to bite his fingers whenever he tries to give you letters.”

With that, you turned around, your hands dropping to your sides as you walked, then ran out of the aviary. If you turned around, you would cry. If you turned around, you might not ever be able to leave, so you sprinted until you reached the stables where the various animals belonging to the academy were kept.

Passing by the sleeping dragon moose and the corral of komodo rhinos, you ducked into the stall of one of the mongoose lizards. Throwing its saddle on, you patted it on the forehead.

“I’m sorry,” you said, swinging on and kicking it forwards. “I promise you can go home once you get me out of the capital.”

The mongoose lizard was fast, but more than that, it was stealthy and could traverse many kinds of terrain. Scuttling through the campus, it climbed the walls at your direction, though it was obviously unsure, as it had been trained not to leave the academy, even when given the opportunity.

Looking up, you saw a shadow cover the moon briefly, and you furrowed your brow as the dark shape came hurtling down towards you. The mongoose lizard continued to dash through the streets of the capital, and you used your hands to shield your face from the incoming projectile.

You needn’t have. At the last moment, it flared its wings, landing gently on your shoulder, careful not to dig its talons into your flesh despite the subsequent loss of balance.

“Bian?” you said. She nipped your shirt collar like she was chiding you for daring to leave without her. You laughed in relief, scratching her crest. “Oh, my dear Bian. I should never have tried to go without you. Thank you for finding me.”

She hopped off your shoulder, sitting on the pommel of the saddle, surveying the terrain with the regal bearing of a figurehead. With her at your side, you weren’t quite as lonely, and though it was selfish of you, you were glad that she had made such a choice, that she loved you enough to follow you away from the comfort of the aviary.

You traveled for a while at top speed, but once the mongoose lizard began to show signs of fatigue, you reined it to a stop. Whistling for Bian, you slid off of the beast. It made a clicking noise at you, and you smiled at it.

“Thank you,” you said. “You have done your job well. You may go back now.”

Without hesitation, the mongoose lizard spun and headed in the same direction it had come from. You didn’t wait, either; the palace certainly had methods to track you, so it would be a folly for you to stay in the same place for too long.

When the search began depended on Jia-Li. If she reported your disappearance immediately, then you were in trouble, but you sensed she would not. You had a habit of coming back to the room later than her, so she’d likely not realize you were gone at all until she woke up and saw your bed had remained undisturbed the entire night.

That left you with a window of time in which you could eat and sleep. After that, you had to walk to the nearest village and appropriate a new mount that could get you even farther from the academy and the capital and Prince Zuko’s grasp.

“It’s just so strange,” you said to Bian as you made a small fire using kindling, the way you had been taught in the academy. “If I’m an Earthbender instead of a former Fire Nation soldier, then there really is no explanation for any of it. Why did he abduct me? Why did he order my memories to be subdued? What significance did I hold?”

If she knew anything about the heart or mind of her former master, she did not reveal it. Rummaging around in your bag for the bit of food you had scrounged up while packing, you chewed on it pensively before pulling out the book you had been reading.

Opening to the page you had left off on, you promised to only finish the chapter on the royal family before you went to sleep. Maybe it was foolish to sacrifice any of the precious little rest you could get, but you longed for something to soothe your mind, and you thought that reading, as a familiar habit, might accomplish that goal.

The last ruler of the Earth Kingdom was the 52nd Earth King, born Kuei. He is famous only for his ineptitude. Ascending the throne at the age of four, he was a puppet monarch for much of his life, until the day he was deposed of by Prince Zuko and the Fire Nation forces.

For some strange reason, there was a lump in your throat reading about the 52nd Earth King, as if he was someone that you greatly missed. But that was not even the oddest thing — it was the next passage that made you truly gasp. Memories upon memories poured in as you read and reread the paragraph, which was more of a footnote than anything.

The 52nd Earth King also had a younger sister, though no one ever saw her. A nonbender like the king, Princess Y/N remained shut away in the palace her entire life, reputedly for her own protection. Because of her fragile and essentially invisible status, her own subjects mockingly referred to her as the Glass Princess.

She, along with her brother, was killed during the fall of Ba Sing Se.

#zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla #reader insert #canon au #the glass princess #m1ckeyb3rry writes

222 notes · View notes

lalacliffthorne · 7 months

Text

💜 starshine pt. V 💜

Rhysand x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: some long overdue introductions are made.

notes: god, I can't express how fucking happy the love you show for this makes me. I'm honestly pinching myself every time I read all your messages and comments, and I'm not even sure I'm actually processing them all because it's just so completely bonkers. anyway. I'm currently planning on how to proceed with this, and you can probably expect at least a few more chapters *winks and wiggles brows*. I realised we need a few more things before this feels complete. so, here's the next part. I will not be blamed for swooning or emotional damage or anything else.

______________________________________________________________

Exhaling softly, I buried my nose in my pillow, blinking and scrunching my brows. I could feel sunlight on my face and a soft breeze brushing over my skin that smelled like sweet blooming trees and cool mornings, intertwining with another scent that surrounded me, filling my lungs, familiar and warm, causing something to flutter against my ribs.

Slowly cracking open an eye, I squinted into the sunlight filtering through high glass doors. They were opened wide, allowing the morning air to filter through the big room, and as I blinked against the sleep in my eyes and my vision became clearer, my breath hitched a little at the sight of the mountain palace in the golden morning sun.

Hiding my big yawn in my pillow, I turned my head, craning my neck. But the bed behind me was empty.

Something skipped a little in my chest, and I slowly sat up, scrunching my brows against the light and blowing a strand of hair out of my face that had fallen from my braid. Rubbing my eyes, I slid off the mattress, and my gaze flickered towards the door leading into the hall, but then I caught a glimpse at something in the big mirror, and when I turned around, I saw the person out on the balcony.

My heart moved gently in my chest, and breathing out softly, I slowly started to make my way outside.

The sun was warm, just like the stone under my bare feet as I squinted into the light, my breath hitching a little when I caught a glimpse at Velaris down in the vale, the Sidra glittering. Then my gaze turned back towards the male sitting on the ground on the terrace, right in front of a few steps leading down to another, arms resting on his knees, eyes closed as his brows crunched a little against the bright sun. His dark hair was tousled from sleep and the soft breeze, the muscles in his back shifting when he laced his fingers together, and something warm spread through my chest.

Quietly padding closer, I let myself plop down next to him on the stones heated up to by the sun, so close that our shoulders and elbows were touching when I pulled up my bare legs and wrapped my arms around my knees. Drawing up my shoulders a little, I exhaled slowly, blinking into the sun as my gaze moved over the palace stretched over the side of the mountain, the balconies and terraces, huge windows open to let in the breeze, and the city far below. Then I turned my head.

Rhys' eyes were still closed, but the crease between his brows softened as I watched. The warmth of his skin was seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt, and his scent rose into my nose with every breath.

Feeling something gently thrum against my ribs, I carefully shifted a little closer, my shoulder pressing more into his biceps. Then I turned my head back ahead, breathing in the morning air and the smell of flowers as the light wind brushed through the strands fallen from my braid and the sun warmed my skin. My nose crinkled a little as I squinted into the light, something fluttering gently against my ribs.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys blink, brows drawing together as he opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the city below. His iris looked lighter in the sun, almost like lavender.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled softly: “I don't know whether I deserve this.”

The flutter in my chest turned into a soft twinge, and I felt my brows furrow gently as I looked over at him.

“Deserve what?”

Rhys stared at the palace, the city in the vale.

“All of this. The people down there. I'm not sure I deserve them.” His voice was quiet and raw when he added softly: “Not after all I did.”

The twinge in my chest sharpened, and I swallowed a little.

“Rhys?”

His head turned like my soft call of his name ripped him out of dark thoughts, and I stared at him, feeling something tighten under my ribs when I whispered: “You can't save everyone.”

Rhys stilled, and I offered him a careful, crooked smile. “I know.” I raised one shoulder in a soft shrug. “I tried.”

The male stared at me, the muscles in his cheeks shifting as he swallowed and his eyes darted over my face. I could see the pain buried deep within, felt the emotions whirling under his skin that caused my chest to ache.

“It's the best we can do.” My brows furrowed gently, something churning softly under my ribs when I whispered softly: “Try.” My gaze flickered over his face. “And you did.”

Something rose in my chest, and I pressed my shoulder into his, staring at him. “All you did was to keep them safe. Keep your family safe, your home.” I swallowed softly and mumbled: “You gave everything to protect them.”

Rhys blinked, and something within him seemed to crack when he whispered hoarsely: “What if I gave so much, I ended up broken?”

I stared at him, feeling something tug and tighten in my chest. Then I shrugged just a little, smiling softly.

“Everyone is a little broken. Some maybe more than others, but – it's hard not to. In this world, how can we be anything but?”

Rhys' lips parted, his violet eyes shimmering in the sunlight as they found mine.

“Maybe we're broken.” I felt my brows crunch softly. “But that's not what matters.” I returned his gaze, steady, calm, feeling my heart thrum against my ribs.

“What matters is what we do with the pieces. Whether we put ourselves back together or push the broken pieces away and stay broken.” I smiled, soft and crooked. “I know that mending yourself back together is scary. Because – it probably won't end up looking like before. Some pieces are missing, others are broken beyond repair.” My eyes flickered over the male in front of me, his brows crunched up like he was fighting to keep himself together, iris shimmering as his gaze darted over my face.

“But what you build from the rest is still complete.” I felt my throat tighten a little and smiled softly when I whispered: “And it can still be beautiful.”

The muscles in Rhys' jaw shifted as he swallowed harshly, his eyes a little watery as they searched mine, emotion raging deep within them.

Pressing my shoulder into his, I watched him steadily.

“You're allowed to grieve what you've lost along the way.” I suppressed the urge to swallow again, staring at him firmly as something tightened harshly in my chest. “Just never think that because you've been broken - you can't be whole again.”

Rhys' nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes tightly. My heart tilted, and quickly, before I could stop myself, I stretched.

A light shudder seemed to travel through Rhys' body when I pressed my forehead against his.

“You gave everything for them,”, I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “Nothing about that makes you less of a male.” Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and I smiled crookedly and mumbled softly: “If anything, it makes you even more worthy of their love.”

This time, the tremble that went through Rhys' limbs was stronger. His breath hitting my skin quivered just a little, then he dropped his head forward to gently press back. His nose brushed against mine, and suddenly, my whole body tightened in a soft, sharp inhale.

My breath hitched and stilled, and Rhys tilted his head a little to repeat the soft nudge. I could feel his fingers brushing over my knuckles as the side of his thigh pressed against mine, radiating warmth through the soft material of his pants while his hair tickled my forehead and his breath danced over my skin as he slowly, gently traced his nose over mine.

Swallowing, I pulled my head back a little, feeling my heart race in my chest and something tightening and pulsing under my ribs. Then I opened my eyes, and my breath stumbled.

Rhys' iris twinkled like galaxies, hues of silver and lavender swirling in deep violet, warm and bright as his gaze pierced into mine. The breeze brushed through his tousled dark hair, blowing wisps of hair that had fallen from my braid into my face, and Rhys raised his hand, carefully brushing them away. His thumb followed the line of my cheekbone, sending tingling shivers through my body, and Rhys' throat worked like he was trying not to swallow as his eyes dragged over my face.

The rise and swell in my chest grew unbearable, and I held my breath and blinked, pulling back and smiling softly and crookedly, even though my heart was pounding against my ribs.

I prayed Rhys didn't feel it, couldn't hear the strange flutter in my breath when I turned my eyes back ahead, over the palace dipped in golden light as the sun slowly crept higher up in the sky.

I could feel Rhys' gaze on my face for another second, steady, piercing and calm. Then he turned his head back ahead. His warm shoulder pressed into mine, and I felt him exhale slowly, his skin glowing in the sun as he closed his eyes again, brows scrunching a little.

Without being able to stop myself, I let my gaze flicker towards him and over his profile; his straight nose, high cheekbones, the strand of ink black hair curved over his forehead, the rest messy and tousled -

One corner of Rhys' lips turned upwards until the ghost of a crease formed in his cheek.

“Seeing something you like?”

My heart tipped over at the sound of his deep, rich voice, and trying to ignore the small hitch in my breath, I huffed and glared at him. Rhys' smile just widened.

“You know, I'm sure none of the others would complain if you didn't, but are you going to put on pants before we go down into the city?” His eyes were still closed, lips curved upwards, but his voice sounded a little hoarse when he mumbled softly: “Or are you planning on torturing me a little more?”

My breath hitched as my gaze darted towards him, my lips parting, and Rhys opened his eyes, his iris twinkling brightly as he squinted a little against the sun, looking down at me. The breeze ruffled his hair, and his muscles moved under his sunkissed skin as he shifted a little on the spot, his bare shoulder pressing into mine. He looked dark and warm and – beautiful.

Heartwrenchingly, achingly, breathtakingly beautiful. All of him, his eyes and his smile and the curve of his jaw, the way his muscles worked his under lean sides and powerful shoulders - and everything beneath. His heart, his doubts, his dreams. And even though I had seen him since that first day, had seen all of it and more -

My heart shuddered as I felt the rise and fall under my ribs, the tingles running over my spine and how my breath hitched with every soft inhale. Felt the harsh thrum of my heart, and suddenly, something tipped over in my chest as my heart shuddered again, and my lips parted.

Rhys' brows scrunched lightly. “Starshine?”

“Hm?” My voice sounded soft, breathy as I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs.

“Are you alright?” One corner of Rhys' lips quirked, his gaze flickering over my face looking torn between amusement and concern, and I blinked and nodded quickly, turning my gaze back ahead as my heart thumped in my chest.

Something rushed through my body as I swallowed gently and felt the flutter under my ribs become more violent.

☆

Making my way through the halls of The House of Wind, I tied the sleeves of my billowing tunic that I had tucked into my leather pants which fit snugly around my legs.

I had figured they were a lot more practical for another flight than a dress.

My heart was pounding steadily against my ribs as I checked if my braid was tied off properly and frowned softly when I realized that there were little wildflowers stuck within. How had they ended up in th-

The doors opened towards a terrace, and when I raised my head, my breath hitched.

Rhys was standing in front of the carved stone balustrade, wings folded comfortably against his back, so big they almost touched the ground. He was squinting into the sunlight, looking completely relaxed, the breeze brushing through his hair.

Like he'd sensed me, he turned his head, and my breath hitched a little when his eyes met mine, deep and vibrant and slowly beginning to twinkle.

Something skipped and tumbled in my chest, and not yet ready to confront the strange sensation of a realisation that had bloomed just a little earlier, I pushed it away and jumped down the few steps, crunching my nose as I smiled sheepishly.

“This alright?”

Rhys' lips curved. “Is what alright?”

I shrugged, turning in a circle and waving a hand over my body exaggeratedly, cracking a grin. “The clothes. You know, for – whatever you have planned. Meeting your friends.” My heart skipped a little nervously as I squinted up at him, coming to a halt in front of him.

Slowly, a crease formed in Rhys' cheek, becoming deeper and deeper the more his smile grew. His eyes were sparkling when he stared down at me, his deep voice vibrating over my skin when he mumbled: “You could turn up in a duvet cover and be beautiful.”

I somehow kept myself from holding my breath even as my heart suddenly toppled, and instead managed to deadpan.

“Alright, so what I'm getting from that statement is that this isn't the right thing to wear –“

Rhys laughed, his eyes crinkling with his wide smile when he stepped forward and grinned down at me.

“You know that is not what I meant.” His iris was bright as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, his voice softer and steady when he said quietly: “Don't worry. You look beautiful. You always do.”

Barely suppressing the urge to swallow as my throat suddenly tightened, I stared up at him.

"And they'll love you." Rhys' violet eyes pierced mine, something rough in his voice when he mumbled: "They'd be idiots not to."

My heart dipped and swerved, and I inhaled softly and sharply before nodding lightly, feeling my lips quirk in a small, cheeky smile.

“Are you sure we can't just winnow or –“

Rolling his eyes with a grin, Rhys leaned down, and my breath got stuck in my throat with a soft sound when his arm slid around my back.

“Hold on,”, he mumbled, his breath brushing over the side of my neck, and I quickly wrapped my arm over his shoulder.

His hand slipped under my knees, then Rhys lifted me into his arms as he straightened again.

My heart skipped high into my throat when he hoisted me up a little, adjusting his grip until my body was curled into his chest. His scent filled my lungs as he squeezed me gently and looked at me, his eyes sparkling.

“Ready?”

I felt a brush of air when his wings opened, stretching wide, and quickly, I slid my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I nodded, and with one mighty beat, Rhys launched into the sky.

I shrieked softly, feeling Rhys' body vibrate with his low chuckle, then we dropped into a steep dive, and I clung to his shoulders, squealing loudly.

I didn't know how long we were in the air. Rhys'´ wings were stretched wide and steady, carrying us lower and lower, their thin membranes in parts almost see through against the sunlight. Sometimes, he dropped a little just to hear me squeak, laughter vibrating through his chest every time he rightened us smoothly and turned into an elegant curve. I peaked over his shoulder once, only to feel my stomach turn over at the sight of the city so far below, I quickly squeezed my eyes shut again and buried my face back in the crook his neck.

Finally, Rhys caught himself out of a gentle descent, his wings beating a few times until he landed on his feet smoothly.

Slowly loosening my tight grip, I cracked open an eye, feeling a relieved breath leave me when I saw the cobblestone only a few feet beneath me.

Lifting my head, I felt my heart rise softly as I looked up the façade of the townhouse made from sandstone we'd landed in front. The sun just caught the stained glass window over the door, the smell of the rose bushes planted in the small front yard soft and sweet. The roof with a huge round window in the attic glittered in the sunlight, and the windows on the second and third floor were opened wide to let in the gentle breeze.

Rhys leaned down, letting me slide out of his arms as he placed me back on my feet. I raised my head when he straightened, and my heart lurched and tipped over when I realised we were standing chest to chest.

Rhys stilled a bit, his head dipped to look down at me, dark hair dishevelled from the flight and still looking perfectly tousled. Something closed around my throat when his eyes flickered over my face, warm and twinkling a little, and I couldn't keep myself from swallowing.

Behind me, the front door was opened, followed by a deep rumbunctious laugh, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high into my throat as the source of the sound stepped into the sunlight, squinting and grinning boisterously.

The Lord of Bloodshed looked exactly like I had imagined based on the stories Rhys had told me about him. Tall; so tall he almost had to dip his head to the side to walk through the high door, wide shoulders and chest, body all corded muscle. Half of his dark hair was gathered in a bun at the back of his head, a few strands falling into his face as he walked down the steps, huge Illyrian wings tucked against his back as his grin made his eyes crinkle and caused the scar on the side of his face to shift.

He made it a few feet before noticing Rhys and me. He slowed before stilling on the spot, his grin disappearing a little as warm hazel eyes met mine.

Carefully, I smiled, soft and crooked. Behind me, I felt Rhys shift, straightening.

Another figure appeared from the hall that was dipped in shadow, though the darkness seemed to thicken a little as it shifted away from the tall male stepping into the sunshine. It didn't leave him fully, ghosting around his shoulders and the wings folded smoothly against his back, like soft whisps of darkness that followed the shadowsinger as he moved down the steps, amber eyes piercing mine.

Where the General's face was rough and more rugged, the face of the Spymaster was all sharp lines and beauty dark like death, but still, there was something gentle buried underneath as his gaze flickered over me.

“Cauldron's sake, can't you two wait?!”

The bright, warm voice drew my eyes away from the shadowsinger's, and a female appeared in the door, her scowl melting into softly widening eyes.

“Oh,”, she breathed, and I felt my lips rise into a smile without being able to help it.

The Morrigan, as Rhys sometimes called her like it was a title more than just a name, looked like sunshine. Her flowing hair really was the color of honey, her eyes a gentle warm brown, soft freckles on her nose and something like awe in her gaze.

Her lips, painted deep red, parted, but before she could say something, the Lord of Bloodshed moved. There was something strange in his eyes, something in his drawn brows as he walked towards me with big strides, and I could feel Rhys tense behind me. But before he could even open his mouth, the huge Illyrian warrior reached me.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and the Lord of Bloodshed lifted me off my feet in a warm, crushing hug.

My breath hitched, and my lips parted softly when a wave of emotions crashed over me. Thankfulness and relief and pain soothed, mixed with warm vibrating affection, so strong and jumbled, a little tightness built in my throat.

He felt different than Rhys; rougher, louder and warm and full of unbridled life, and –

Something surged in my chest, and I blinked hastily against the way my eyes welled. Because the infamous Lord of Bloodshed felt kind. Kind and gentle, and good.

“Hi?”, I whispered a little hesitantly, and a soft chuckle rumbled through the huge Illyrian.

“Hi.” I heard the grin in his deep voice, warm and rumbling as he squeezed me tightly before shaking me a little and causing a soft giggle to break from my throat. Then he slowly placed me back on the ground, holding me tightly for another second before straightening up, and when I raised my head, he was beginning to smile down at me, wide and unrestrained.

Movement at the corner of my eye made me tip down my head, and something shifted softly in my chest when Morrigan sent me a smile. It was bright and beaming, but her eyes were a little watery, and she moved without hesitation, wrapping me up in a hug so tight, I held my breath.

“Hello,”, she mumbled, her warm voice a little wobbly, and my heart tightened gently as I carefully wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back. She too felt gentle and good, but vibrant, like an orchestra rising into a striking finale.

Mor kept me in a ribcrushing hug for another second before pulling back, sniffling a little as she beamed at me, and I slowly grinned back.

“So that's her.”

The voice, so deep and low, sent a light tingle down my spine, and when my gaze moved, it met the shadowsinger's, his golden eyes piercing mine.

The Lord of Bloodshed crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes sparkling as he sent his High Lord a shit-eating grin. “Now I get why you kept her from us.”

Rhys scowled as the tall Illyrian sent me a wink, but a few feet away, the lips of the shadowsinger curved at the corners.

“Honestly.” Mor rolled her eyes, but she looked like she was suppressing a smile. I threw Rhys a look.

You know, he's right, I get it too. I sent him a wide, cheeky grin and raised my brows. Why you thought they'd steal me away? I mean; I'd let them -

Something shifted in Rhys' eyes; a growl rumbled from his chest as he moved forward, his chest pressing into my back, and my heart skipped and my breath hitched.

Mor furrowed her brows, but her lips twitched. “Are you alright?”

Rhys huffed as he stared down at me, but it almost looked like he was pouting, so much so, something tipped over in my chest, and I started to beam up at him, wide and cheeky.

Something in Rhys' glare shifted, became soft and bright. Then he blinked, and my heart tumbled gently against my ribs when he tore his eyes away from mine and grumbled under his breath: “I just remembered why I have been putting this off for so long.”

Both Illyrians rolled their eyes in unison, the General flipping him off easily while the Spymaster's lips twitched, and Rhys returned the foul gesture before looking down at me, his eyes twinkling even though he gave a dramatic, long-suffering sigh as he raised his brows.

“Starshine, meet my irritating and nosy family. These are Mor, Cassian and Azriel.”

Mor beamed at me, Azriel dipped his chin lightly, and Cassian bowed his head with a cheeky wink. I slowly grinned back, feeling something hop against my ribs. Then I blinked and blurted: “It's really good to finally meet you, but I'm starving -”

Cassian snorted and started to laugh, his head tipping back as his shoulders shook, and Azriel pushed past him, his lips curving when he blinked into the sun, mumbling: “Looks to me like she's going to fit in just fine.”

☆

Blinking into the sun, I dropped my head when something cool brushed over my shoulder, and Azriel sat down next to me and handed me something.

My heart skipped and my lips parted in surprise at the sight of the waffle wrapped in a paper napkin, sprinkled with powered sugar. There was a café in the alley to our right that sold them, and even though earlier at breakfast, Mor had ordered half the menu, the smell whafting from it when we'd passed it a little while ago had made me look at the window wistfully.

“Thank you.” I looked up at the shadowsinger, still a little wide-eyed and surprised, and there was a soft chuckle from next to me that made my heart skip.

“Bribery.”

“Hey, shut up.” I felt my lips curve into a bright smile without being able to help it, quickly kicking Rhys' shin. He was sitting on my other side and squinted against the sun, cheek creasing. He looked completely relaxed, his skin glowing in the warm light as he lounged on the bench, his arm draped over the backrest behind me. “You're just jealous that he didn't bring you one.”

“Yes, as his High Lord, that does make me wonder.” Rhys narrowed his eyes in mock thought, and Azriel huffed, his lips quirking as he blinked into the sun.

Breathing in the sweet smell of flowers, I plucked off a corner of the still warm waffle, the sweet dough melting on my tongue as I blinked into the sunlight. Something warm was pulsing in my chest as I let my gaze wander over the little square surrounded by big, sandstone buildings.

Mor was crouched a bit away on the cobblestone, talking to a female painting the ground with a beautiful sunset sky. Cassian was over at the fountain that wasn't carrying any water; instead, flowers were growing within, spilling over the edges, violets and lavenders and pinks mixing together with small white blossoms. He was playing with some children, who had seen the mighty warrior and had shied away until he had grinned widely at them. Now, they were trying to wrestle him down, his dramatic groans echoing through the square.

Next to me, Azriel leaned back, his wings folded comfortably behind him as his golden eyes moved over the square, watchful but relaxed. The blooming trees whispered in the soft breeze, petals chasing over the cobblestone, and I exhaled softly and felt something rise in my chest, fluttering and violent.

Gentle claws scraped over my mind's walls, and my heart skipped softly.

“You okay?”

Rhys' voice rumbled through my head, warm and relaxed, and my breath hitched as my eyes flickered over his friends, his family that had taken so easily to me, it felt like I had been with them since the beginning.

Blinking, I tipped my head back a little, looking up into the clear blue sky where even in daylight, the pale shape of the moon was visible, and that swelling feeling under my ribs grew.

It's beautiful, I whispered in my mind, turning my head, and my eyes met violet ones, bright and twinkling as they flickered over my face.

A whaft of warm, flowery perfume filled my nose, then Mor squeezed into between me and Azriel, sighing happily as she squinted into the sun. “Should we save him?”

I looked over towards where Cassian was buried under at least six little Fae children that were yelling and climbing over him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's lips quirk as he reclined lazily. “He looks like he's got it handled.”

Cassian dramatically went limp. Then he stirred, sending children tumbling over the cobblestone laughing as he straightened up and grinned at them, and I giggled.

Getting to his feet, Cassian patted the head of one of the children and sent them a wink before beginning to walk back towards us, the children going back to chasing each other over the square.

“Is your back alright, brother?” Rhys watched him get closer, creases in his cheeks deepening. “I could swear I heard it crack when you got up.”

“I heard it.” Azriel squinted into the sun.

Mor sighed dramatically. “Tragic. The mighty hero is getting old.”

“I could take a look at it.” I blinked up at Cassian innocently. From the corner of my eye, I saw the others look towards me as I shrugged, pulling off another piece of waffle. “I deal with injuries of the elderly all the time.”

Rhys started laughing, his head dipping back, and my heart swerved at the deep, rich sound. On my other side, Mor was laughing as well, bright and causing her body to vibrate as the Spymaster grinned, and Cassian scowled, but his eyes were twinkling mischievously when he narrowed them and pointed at me. “Careful, little one.”

"You know she could take you, right?" Rhys was smirking.

I only squinted up at Cassian, feeling my lips curve cheekily.

There was a light pull on my sleeve, and when I looked down in surprise, my heart skipped gently.

A small Fae girl, just a few years old, was standing in front of me, looking up at me with huge eyes.

I could feel my lips rise, and sliding my waffle into Rhys' hand, I slipped off the bench, crouching down until I was on her level before sending her a slow, wide smile.

“Hello.”

The girl shuffled a little, her eyes sheepish as they flickered over me and the flowers still stuck in my hair. Then she held out her hand.

Something rose softly underneath my ribs when I slowly took the small paper blossom from her tiny fingers. Carefully, I placed it in my palm, staring at it. Then I looked up at her through my lashes and sent her a slow, cheeky smile.

“Want to see something?”

The girl nodded quickly, and feeling my smile brighten, I looked down again, closing my eyes for a moment. Then I dipped my head and gently, very gently, blew air over the blossom.

Golden sparks twinkled, making the little girl's eyes grow big, and slowly, before our eyes, the paper flower turned into a real one, its purple petals slowly opening.

The girl's eyes were huge when she looked up at me, beginning to beam, and grinning back widely, I leaned forward, carefully tucking the flower behind her small, pointed ear. Then I straightened up again and sent her a light wink, and with a quiet giggle, the girl quickly turned around, darting back over the square.

Staring after her with a wide smile, I slowly pushed myself up and back onto the bench. Then I raised my head, and my breath hitched a little when I found four pairs of eyes on me.

Mor's lips were parted softly, that strange vibrant awe back in her gaze while Cassian's lips were curving. Azriel's head was dipped to the side a little, a barely there twinkle in his eyes – and Rhys' iris looked brighter than the stars as he stared at me.

“What?”, I mumbled sheepishly, feeling a little heat bloom on my cheeks. Then I caught sight of the huge piece missing out of my waffle and immediately widened my eyes, glaring at Rhys. “Hey!”

☆

“I told you they'd love you.”

My heart skipped softly, and when I looked over my shoulder, Rhys leaned into the open doors, squinting into the low sun as one corner of his lips creased.

Something fluttered softly against my ribs.

“Well, I am very loveable.” I sent him a bright, cheeky grin, and Rhys huffed, the crease in his cheek deepening as he pushed off the doorframe.

Watching him come towards me, I blinked and turned back around, breathing out as I held my face into the warm, sinking sun.

We were back at the house that I still didn't quite believed was supposed to be mine, the window doors open to let in the soft evening breeze as I sat on the stone steps leading from the terrace down into the garden. The light of the sinking sun was dipping everything in a golden shimmer, faeries whizzing through the flowers and tittering happily.

Something brushed against my shoulder, then Rhys took a seat next to me, propping his arms onto his knees and squinting into the light.

“Are you sure you want to sleep here?”

I huffed softly. “I am sure I'm not keen on more flying.”

Rhys' lips curved, his violet eyes piercing the side of my face. “You're insulting my flying?”

“I'm insulting your need for aerial maneuvers.”

Rhys slowly began to grin. “I'm taking that personal.”

“Good. It's awful.” I barely held myself back from breaking into a wide smile.

Rhys' eyes crinkled as he stared at me. Then he blinked and looked over his shoulder. “The main bedroom is on the third floor. Everything's there, so –“

Something closed around my throat, and I quickly whispered: “Thank you.”

Rhys looked at me, and I stared back, trying to swallow against the tightness in my chest as suddenly, the words stumbled from my lips.

“Thank you for trusting me. With this, this city. Your family. And –“, I blinked, “for buying me a house, you - complete – maniac, who just does that?!” I exhaled a little tremblingly as something skipped and fluttered in my chest and I sniffled a bit, my eyes suddenly burning a bit.

Rhys stared at me, the muscles in his cheek working as his lips parted.

“Thank you,”, I whispered a little wobbly, and I could feel Rhys swallow when for a moment, he looked like a dozen answers were running through his head, things he wanted to say stumbling over each other.

But when he opened his lips, nothing came out but one word, quiet, simple and a little hoarse.

“Always.”

A soft shuddering breath left me as my shoulders sunk, and Rhys' violet eyes dragged over my face. Then he blinked, and one corner of his lips curved gently.

“Sleep tight, starshine.”

I swallowed, and Rhys got to his feet, sending me a light wink that made my heart swerve as he started walking down the steps into the garden. I could see the way his shoulders shifted, the way he stretched his neck a little, and suddenly, something dropped into my stomach.

“Wait!”

I darted to my feet, and Rhys stilled. Then he looked over his shoulder, and before I could stop myself, I blurted: “Stay.”

Rhys' lips parted, and hastily, I squeezed my hands into fists.

“I just –“ My eyes darted over his face; my heart skipped once, high, and with a soft breath, I felt my shoulders sag.

“I hate the thought of you up there alone,”, I mumbled.

Rhys blinked. Then the tension bled from his muscles, and his lips curved, just a little.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my eyes darting over his face, illuminated by the sinking sun, his dark hair tousled, his iris a soft violet, and somehow, I managed to ignore the rising, swelling feeling in my chest.

The curve to Rhys' lips deepend, and he slowly turned a little, his eyes beginning to twinkle in the light as he raised a brow. “I can take the couch.”

My heart fluttered high, and I tried to not let it show, just grinning crookedly.

“What, this huge house has no guest room?”

“I thought I'd leave the details of which room becomes what to you.” The twinkle in Rhys' eyes seemed to grow as he slowly started to saunter back towards me, slipping his hands into his pockets as he shrugged casually.

“Convenient.” I felt my lips curve as the flutter in my chest grew sky high, my breath catching when I caught sight of the crease in Rhys' cheek.

“I'll take the couch.”

“No, you won't.” My voice was steady, maybe even amused, even though my heart was beating out my chest the closer Rhys got as I suddenly wondered what I was doing.

Rhys' eyes crinkled a little as he moved up the steps towards me. “What if I snore after all?”

“Then I´ll kick you.” I tried to keep my breathing even when he stopped on the step right beneath mine, almost on eye level for once, my heart missing a beat when I swore I could feel his chest brush against mine.

The crease in Rhys' cheek deepend. “So violent.”

I must've managed to deadpan, because he chuckled, a grin slowly spreading over his face. Then he blinked, and it dimmed, becoming soft when he mumbled, his deep voice a gentle caress over my spine: “Are you sure?”

My heart jumped against my ribs, and I probably should have listened to the warning of its irregular rhythm or the way my breath couldn't seem to stay steady.

But I just smiled back, soft and cheeky and crooked. “Yes. I'm sure.”

Rhys' gaze flickered over my face, and something shifted in his iris, the twinkle a little deeper as he nodded gently. "Alright."

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife @brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries @corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638 @ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger

#rhysand #rhys #rhysand x reader #rhysand x female!reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand/reader #rhys x reader #rhys imagine #rhys/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #starshine #lalacliffthorne

597 notes · View notes

scara-writes · 7 months

Text

regress

Knight! Reader x Y! Prince

(gender neutral for readers)

No proofreads. Forgive me for not answering y'all ask/request! I will do them once I'm done publishing the other ocs! (Y'all wilding for yandere gold digger and omega! Lol) this one is short tbh and has another part but I'm unsure about posting it because it was too long. Let me know if you wanna see it.

Warning: hints of death, yandere, psycopath

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

You woke up groaning. Your throat hurts, confused at yourself. You never had a problems with your throat. Always hydrated before going to sleep, So why the hell that it feels like its dry at the same time it's not?

It's kind of like itchy.

You went down the staircase, hearing the bustling sound of your subordinate roommates.

"Captain! You look pretty tired today. Did you perha—woah! What happened to your neck?" One of your members looked shocked, their eyes looking at the said neck. The other members in the room looks at you in confusion before their face was the same as the person who asked you.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "What about it?"

You let your calloused hands caress your neck, feeling if there was out of ordinary. "Can some of you hand me a mirror? I am confused as to why everyone looked shocked right now."

One of your subordinates quickly ran around to find you a mirror. When they found it, they immediately handed it to you.

You look yourself in the mirror. Just like their reaction, you were shock to witness it.

"What... How...?"

"...It looks like a deep wound from one of our melee weapon, specifically a knife. Captain. No wounds can someone survive that!" The person sitting at the dining table said as he observe it."How did you got that?"

You shook your head,"I don't know.... I only woke up feeling my throat feels dry and fine at the same time. Itchy I would say, it doesn't hurt. It feels irritating."

"I think you should consult a physician or a doctor for that."

You trace the scar on your neck. Thoughtful, of where had you gotten this. "... I might."

You strolled up to the palace, not getting any breakfast—even dinner last night—and skipping your schedule to train as forgetting the fact that you are late to see your master, so you immediately went to the palace of your prince. The one you serve in your whole life.

Maids greeting you a good morning, and you greet them back. One of them offered you a sandwich, it looks pretty neat and delicious to eat. Drooling at the thought chewing on it. You tried to refuse but they insisted on giving it to you, seeing you didn't get a breakfast and dinner, you looked a little dizzy for someone who trained to endure without food for months. You accepted it along with a water, thanking them, feeling a little hungry and quickly gobble up the food making your way from hallway to the kitchen with them before anyone can scold you for eating around the halls. Parch from the food, you drank the water from the glass and put them on the sink before going back to your task to check up on your prince. You bid the maids a good bye.

Once you reach the room of your master. You saw there was no lady in waiting nor a butler on his doorway. So you knock on the wood, announcing yourself, waiting for your master's response to let you in.

"(Y-y/n)?" You heard a whimpering voice behind the room. It sounded like he was crying. You asked him if he was alright, but before you could get any answer from him, you saw the door being pulled opened and then finding yourself engulf by an arm around your shoulders.

"Mmm sorry—shouldn't doubt you!—my own fault!... Was supposed to trust you—love you so mmmh–much!I-I— don't l-leave m-me—hicc!" The prince cried on your shoulder, babbling incoherent words that you didn't understand. You look bewildered at his sudden burst, not expecting for someone who always smiles and befriend anyone regardless of their status. You slowly went to embrace him, comforting him, feeling him wrapping his legs around your hips and you let him, crying on your now wet uniform full of tears and snots continuing to blabber incoherent words.

You tried to let him lay down to his king sized bed but his grip on you wouldn't let you. So here you are awkwardly patting him on the back as you sat yourself on the edge of his bed instead. You were hesitant to touch his hair, it is against the rules that a lowly life like you has the audacity to touch them especially in their hair, it's a sign disrespect and could lead to a treason. But you decided to do it anyway, he needs your comfort right now and that rule doesn't apply to you if the prince needed it anyway—plus you already broke the rules when you hugged him back.

He freezes up when he felt your hands on his head before slowly taking a deep breath, sniffling, calming down from your touch. He buried his nose onto your neck, shuddering before planting a small kisses from you, whimpering.

"sssorry—hic-!ssorryyso-sorry... louvv you too..m..much.. shouldnn't...leea-hic-!leave me..."

You cannot comprehend what he was trying to say but his action made you surprised, but you let him be for now, continuing patting his back awkwardly because this isn't what you expect first thing of the day when you work.

Prince Rylle must have a nightmare for him to act like this.

"... Your highness?"

You heard him whimpered before leaning himself away from your neck, slowly looking at you. His eyes were puffy, some tears were spilling. Prince Rylle was sniffing and hiccuping from his tears.

You looked away from his eyes, indirectly obeying his older brother's words to not look straight at him. You carefully wipe away the water droplets coming out from his orbs, waiting for his nerves to calm down.

He stayed there at your lap for a few minutes, until he recollect himself.

After wiping his tears, one of your hand went to grab a handkerchief from your pocket trying to rid of the snot that was clogging his nose.

But before you can do that, the tanned male squeaks and tried to push himself off on you, falling down from your lap. Head first colliding on the floor. Thankfully, he didn't bleed.

"Your highness! Are you alright?" worriedly you went to assess his head from the impact.

"I-I'm fine!" He quickly got up, wincing from the slight concussion from his head.

"I apologize, it was my mistake for startling you. I shall be careful next time."You got up from the edge of his bed before stroking his head gently.

He looks at you, the way he gaze up to you seems like he had seen a ghost.

"... Are you really..here?" He whispered. You were puzzled by his question. "... I'm here your highness." Quickly bowing down to his level.

He walk up again to you, requesting if he could hug you again. You stood up and saw in your peripheral vision his eyes were starting to become teary again. His snot were starting to clog his nose, but you let him hold you.

You felt his arms around your waist. Hands firmly grip on your sides.

"... God, I t-thought I lost you." He whispered. Whatever nightmare that was. It must have traumatised him. You felt his tears running down again to your clothes.

"... I'm here your highness.."

"... You're really.. h-here." He whispered.

You patted his back. "... I am here."

"Today is 7th of May, Year..890." You uttered before jotting down the notes for your report. The prince was beside you, silent at his own office. He too is jotting down his report or at least he is, but you felt his gaze on you. You weren't used to the prince Infront of you being silent. He would always filled this room with his chattering, sharing his knowledge to you on what he learned from his teachers—since a commoner like you doesn't deserve education—and sometimes he would always complain about the other nobles being rude to their servants and how obnoxious they were.

So you broke the silence filling in the room. It is unusual for your master to be this silent.... And staring at you for quite some time."Is everything alright your highness?"

He didn't answer. He was still gazing at you.

"Your highness?" You repeat.

The prince snapped back to reality.

"O-oh! Yes! Yes I am! I'm-I'm still recollecting m-my thoughts about my nightmares haha!" His fake laughter died down when his gaze stayed to your neck. He frowned. He was contemplating whether or not he should ask. But he did.

"... Where did you get that? The... Scar on your neck."

You cleared your throat before feeling the scars again. Just like earlier, you didn't felt any phantom pain from it.

"... I would have tell you the reason behind it but I have no idea, your highness. I must have slip a knife drag it on my nec—" You wanted to jest about it but you got a sullen look. His face was frowning even more.

"Please, do not do it again."

"...I... Yeah. I am jesting your highness... I had woken up with a scar already imprinted on my neck." You didn't get a response after that, he avoided his look from it.

You look back at your finished report. Organizing them, putting them aside the table, before standing up. "Umm.. As much as I would like to accompany you all day, your highness. I have business to attend to with the crown prince." You didn't particularly give him the detail why you need to leave, you walked away. His brother technically assigned you on something dangerou—

"... Were you going to assassinate the southern duke who was accused of embezzlement of the empire's treasury?"

Your boots stop clacking on the tiled floor of the room, quickly turning your head back to your master. Whose eyes were blank as if he just absentmindedly told you what he said.

"... How... Where did his highness learn this... Information."

You were supposed to make him believe that everything around him is perfect. Is what your master's psychopath family told you to do. He doesn't need to know everything.

He was supposed to be completely utterly away from it and only focusing on the bright side of the kingdom.

The tanned male before you gave you a nervous smile. You realized that today he is acting weird."No! Nothing I-I was just speaking something ill! It was a mere jest, my sweet!" His hands were wavering as a sweat formed down to his cheeks, when he talks.

He was lying.

"Where did you get that information, your highness?" You looked at him, your body turning to him. Repeating your words.

He gulped, one of his hand pulled his collar a little as if he was sweating from his clothes. You noticed how his eyes were looking everywhere except your figure. He mumbled something before turning back to you, stammering."... Forgive me... I ... I overheard your meetings with my older brother that n-night."

You thought about the meeting he was talking about. It was Prince Rylle's birthday that time and he was at the very center of the attention so none of the nobles or slaves have witness you left to the garden when the his older brother, the crown prince commanded you to follow him there. You made sure before you left, the last time you saw him before you had gone to follow his highness, Prince Rylle was dancing with one of the noble ladies.

So it is not possible that he might overhear your conversation when he had to take turns on the ladies that lining up to have a dance with him.

"But you were in the middle of dancing with the lady Rub—"

"N-no! I wanted to-to find you to accompany me by the garden when you were not in your post! I found myself walking alone in the garden and then I saw with my brother! I promise I did not mean to eavesdrop on your conversation with my brother!"

That wasn't the only thing that his brother ordered you to kill someone. You would have refused if it weren't for the fact that your mother's expenses for her health wasn't increasing. But the crown prince promised salvation to your mother as long as you do what he told you. It was tempting deal but you did it, feeling pressured as if refusing that bastard's command would give you penalty of death. Was that even a deal? Plus shedding someone's blood by your own hands wasn't your forte. You are a knight that was supposed to protect Prince Rylle. You can only immobalize your enemy but you cannot bring yourself to kill.

The duke was not the only one who you need to assassinate tonight and you weren't even sure if he really did try to embezzled the treasury. You witness that old man to be strict, intimidating but he took a great care the people who serves under him and the villagers who were residing in his property. All you heard from his rumors was that he was a good leader and a good provider.

"Was that all you heard, your highness?" You were internally panicking. Not wishing to meet your punishment if one of his family heard about this. Prince Rylle needs to be pure from this world is what his family told you. He needs to be away from these secrets.

"Y-yes!"

"... Can I ask you a favor?"

His soft gaze wanders around your lips before slowly nodding. So you asked him a favor to never let his family knows about him finding out about this.

He frowned as if he realized something. The white haired male stood up from his seat and walk towards you, as he softly grabbed your hands to his. Clasping it.

"Now that Gods favored me, this time I will protect you."

" Of course, darling... I will not let them." He unclasps his hand from yours before giving you a hug. You can't quite hear the last sentence he said.

#yandere lover #yandere #soft yandere #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #clingy yandere #yandere boyfriend #pretty yandere #yandere prince #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere boy x reader #yandere boy #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #delusional yandere

521 notes · View notes

jazeswhbhaven · 17 days

Text

Maybe I want Him to Bite...(Lucifer Selfie Card Prologue React) *Spoilers*

Let me just start off by saying I am GAGGING in a good way about this prologue and it's going to sit well with me until further spoilers are posted for the unholy board story. I tried pulling as much as I could for my saved seals but I only got his artifact for the erolabs account. (watch me get him on the censored version but not his artifact so I'm stuck on either app lol)

But this thing fueled my Luci lore needs. And I took more screenshots than I thought I would so get ready for another long react from me lmao grab a snack my lovelies and let's get it goingggg ✌.ʕʘ‿ʘʔ.✌

I'm not gonna lie, my ass skipped the whole looking and seeing Phenomenon because it's pretty much the same as it is in every selfie card lol

Someone in the tower of Hades sees him and then apparently so can everyone else. This time MC is in Gehenna just casually witnessing everyone being excited about his arrival.

MC brings up that Gehnna would be pretty nice as a tourist attraction with less destruction about and Ppyong is like "nah"

And further confirmed by Sitri, others simply just like it that way and there's not much to patch up each time there's an attack. MC doesn't really get it until they're like "Ah right, we're in Hell." (damn Ra-On when will you finally understand the assignment?)

But Sitri is suddenly being summoned by Satan iirc...and Ppyong is being contacted by Paimon who sent him a long ass text lmao, so they leave MC alone for a bit so they can walk around on their own and....

A new door?? Ooooo

OH???

GAMI GAM MY BBY BOI ^^ <3

So Gamigin has come to escort MC to Paradise Lost, which btw is like the epitome of most Rococo style paintings imo. At least in most areas.

MORAXXXXXX <3 *gently holds*

He greets MC first, and he hopes they're doing well but MC is more concerned with his body and wellness and he's just like "Awh only you say that often" HE SO WHOLESOME

Oh Marbas...I will never forget that time you tried to fucking kill us :D Hey buddy.

But no, srsly he is happy to see us in his own way lol

Buer is straight to business, as expected but also he can say hi too. I love that we get to interact with the healers more because I love seeing everyone's personality combined when it's obvious which King they used to serve before.

So MC agreed to a request, and Buer is explaining that request on the way to this beautiful ass palace. I dare say more beautiful than Leviathan's *cough*

Also Buer reminds MC of Bimet based on how he speaks and how he thanks MC for accepting the request and getting straight to the point. (which I think is hilarious)

So there are apparently RULES for Paradise Lost. Mostly concerning Lucifer himself. Marbas brings up the eye contact rule. MC then asks oh so I can look for less than 3 seconds then look away and back at him again?

I fucking love them. Because why are they acting like that wasn't an option lmao P L Z

So this rule makes sense. Lucifer has absolute authority which to me is an overpowered ability BUT hey it works for someone like him and I dig it.

MC asks once again, hey so is that rule expired at some point?

Again bamboozled by another question instead of MC just accepting the rule for what it is. Lol It seems like Gamigin does the same thing and he was over there like ???? :o being clueless and cute as usual.

The snake on his suit is alive???? WHOA that's pretty cool.

So the snake is similar to that like the "scarlet letter" The fact that no one really knows for sure what the snake does just yet is a great mystery within itself. But you know, Paradise Lost is "newish" and I imagine Lucifer doesn't interact with many others outside of Paradise Lost so ofc no one would know what that snake does if no one provokes it.

Now this here. At first, I was under the impression that his fangs are like you know vampire vibes but nope, snake boi

that makes him h o t t e r

And thanks Marbas, because I mean why make these rules if you don't know wtf is gonna happen? My anxiety will be lovely.

MC is just like, oh wait does he bite??? LOL

Just imagine that Lucifer does just randomly bite people. Some people do this irl if overstimulated and don't know it's not socially acceptable. I do not rule out Lucifer being one of those people.

Luci is so nuerodivergent coded. If you remember from Raphael's christmas card though, he also doesn't like loud sudden noises so it's possible that they share the same traits as brothers! (but also it's possible Luci has ptsd or similar so loud noises is a no)

MC though thinks none of these rules are even needed if they don't meet Lucifer...

He's so goddamn pretty, I'd break the 3 second rule immediately if it weren't for my own aversion to looking folks in the eyes lol

So MC asks if this was the plan to meet Lucifer and Gamigan is like yeah! But Luci is just focused on how terrified MC looks.

I mean check it. A really fucking tall man that looks like a statue, with bloodied wings, demonic eyes, and a scar across his lovely big chest, and voice that could make me cause crimes is speaking to me. I'm going to be like Jjok and piss myself.

So we go into a small flashback though of why Lucifer agreed to meeting up with MC in the first place.

So Luci is just enjoying tea quietly in his greenhouse right? And it's very simplistic in design, nothing too crazy and I think that's perfect for him.

He complains slightly about how noisy it is outside but he doesn't really do much about it because he's been overworking his wings lately (poor bby it's probably a reflex that he's always gonna have)

So he notices that the devils are in high spirits and that's when Morax comes in to give him the news.

The dyanmic here and Lucifer's reaction is appropiate because he just kinda sits there and sips his tea quietly as Morax explains plainly that Phenomenon has landed and hasn't done so since 100 years prior. That's when the war first started, (if you remember the event this likely happened around the same time he became king of Paradise Lost)

Morax starts to feel sentimental about it, and Marbas is being empathetic toward him stating it's not his fault.

Now I've noticed that they call each other "brother" the same way Lucifer's brothers in heaven would. So this for sure tells me that this is the set dynamic for the 3 nobles plus Gamigin!

Yeah? See lol

Lucifer's reaction here amuses me because he's just like "Ah so this is how they truly are..." which could for sure be why he didn't believe in starting a fight with them way back when (maybe, though the event shows me he was favorable toward dragons...I can only assume he was favorable toward devils too, maybe certain ones)

Gamigin coming in being loud and happy lol I love his energy so much it fits him. I think the only person who can be loud around Luci IS Gamigin lol

SO lovelies, part 1 stops here, darn picture limit. But get yourself ready for part 2~ I'll see ya there!

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer #whb paradise lost bois 🤍#whb gamigin #whb spoilers #lucifer selfie card

195 notes · View notes

tina-mairin-goldstein · 1 month

Text

I just had a thought on Hannibal that is probably wildly inaccurate, but I wanted to share. In Mizumono, Hannibal said that his memory palace's foyer was the Norman Chapel in Palermo.

As far as I can find out, the Norman Chapel does not have a skeleton 'graven in the floor'. But every time we see the chapel, it's there.

Even in the deleted ending, which is supposed to be the mind palace up until the point Jack is shown. Kind of hard to tell and since it's a deleted scene they might have skipped out on effects and detail, but when the deleted scene switches to Jack's point of view, it appears there is no skeleton on the floor (poor quality and it's back behind the priest, so I might have missed it, but it doesn't appear there's anything white there).

But doesn't this kind of indicate that the whole thing took place in Hannibal's mind palace because of that one detail that doesn't actually exist and was placed there by Hannibal himself? Does that mean maybe Mizumono happened entirely differently? That the whole of season three might just have been a construct in the minds of Will and Hannibal and then, at the end, they finally come together in one memory palace?

#i thought too way hard on this #might not make sense but i had to get out of my head #my ramblings #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands

179 notes · View notes

koolades-world · 1 month

Text

one bed troupe w/ Satan

Satan had the perfect idea. He had heard you rave about the city you had grown up in and all the precious memories it held. You told him often whenever you were reminded of familiar faces, the local bookstores, the bakeries, and most importantly, the beaches. He felt as if he could listen to you talk about your childhood forever. That's when he got the grand idea to take you to see that city again for a day. That way, you could see it all again and he might get the chance to make precious memories with his favorite person.

Upon suggesting this idea to you, you practically began bouncing off the walls, shaking him, asking when you would be able to go. When he told you he could arrange for the both of you to leave that weekend, you began jumping for joy. "I'll be able to show you everything! You're a genius." You hugged him tightly. After pressing a kiss on his cheek, you disappeared, presumably to tell someone else. You hadn't even stuck around to hear the rest of the details.

He laughed to himself, and called Barbatos to let him know they planned to leave that Saturday. Barbatos was more than happy to help them, and glad to hear you were so excited. Saturday came quickly. You gripped Satan's hand tightly and skipped to the palace, dragging him behind you. You had on a small backpack filled with essentials that Satan knew he would inevitably end up carrying at some point, but he didn’t mind. He was just happy that you were happy. Once you reach the palace, and made it to the human world, you were quick to take Satan to all of your favorite places.

First, you took him to your favorite bookstore growing up. You knew he'd be just as obsessed as you were and still was. There were book stacked up to the ceiling, and were somewhat categorized. The tights aisles forced you to walk one behind the other, but you still never let go of his hand. The two of you easily spend an hour along in the section with Sherlock Holmes. Once you were done in there, you took him to your favorite ice cream place. The beach you often watched the sunset on with your family was nearby, and while it wasn't sunset quite yet, you figured the two of you could still get something and enjoy the view.

After a little more wandering around, you were getting hungry since ice cream isn't really filling, so you took him to a cafe that held more memories as a teenager to you. After school, you'd meet up with friends there for projects, or for just in general when you weren't quite ready to go home yet. While the two of you were chatting, cuddled up side by side, enjoying a coffee each, you happened to see a familiar face.

"Mc?" You turned after hearing a familiar voice.

"Mom! What a surprise seeing you!" You got up to hug her. Satan looked at the woman you'd happily greeted. He could see the resemblance. The two of you chatted for a bit, standing beside your table. Evenutally, she turned to him.

"Who's this? Sorry for ignoring you, dear." The tenderness she addressed him with hit him like a brick. He was almost certain that Mc's immediate family knew about the exchange program, but he still looked to them to check. After they gave him a little nod, he introduced himself.

"I'm Satan, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you. Your child is lovely." He stood up to shake her hand, the small backpack falling over since he stood up so fast. She hugged him instead, ignoring his outstretched hand.

"No need to be so formal. Anyone who's good enough for Mc is good enough for me. Besides, demon or not, you're one of the family. That reminds me, the two of you need to spend the night, if you can extend your day trip. The rest of the family hasn't seen you in a while and they'll be excited to meet you, dear." She pulled back so she could hold both of your hands in hers.

Mc looked at Satan, imploring him to agree. "I think I can make that happen." He nodded with a smile. He had never felt so welcome somewhere he'd never been. Mc began squealing and almost jumping on the spot. Satan got his second hug from Mc that day, and his third total. After agreeing to meet up at Mc's childhood home at five pm, you parted ways. The both of you sat back down, and as you began chattering about your family, Satan sent a few messages to Barbatos letting him know they'd be back tomorrow at some time.

Before he knew it, five rolled around and they made the short walk to the place Mc grew up. They skipped up to the doorstep, and he followed at a little bit of a slower pace. He couldn't help but be nervous. But, as soon as that door swung open, he immediately knew he would always be welcome there. After being greeted by a hoard of people that look like Mc at the door, they were ushered in. After being briefly separated to chat with different people, they were reunited at the dinner table when it was time to eat. It was heartwarming to see Mc in their element, surrounded by their family. He felt almost bad to have taken them away from something like this. He got to see his family everyday, but they didn't. It seemed, unfair, in a way. Before they knew it, it was time to head to bed.

"Night guys! See you all tomorrow morning." You waved to the crowd in the living room, and grabbed Satan by the hand to free him from the gaggle of uncles surrounding him. A few of them chuckled at how easily he went with you. Your mom passed you two towels and waved you both after her up the stairs.

"You should still have clothing in your drawers since you didn't take everything with you, and if you need something for him, let me know. I can borrow something from your father's wardrobe. Sweet dreams, angel. It truly feels like a miracal being able to see you today." She kissed Mc's forehead. That simple act warmed him. Sometimes, he considered Mc to be his angel too, someone he didn’t deserve.

"Night, Mom." They smiled.

"Good night, ma'am. Thank you for your hospitality." Satan chimed in, not wanting to seem rude.

"No need for the formalities. You're practically family. Now, go get some rest." She walked off after leaving them in front of a shut door together. Satan had almost assumed he would be walked to a different door.

"This is my childhood bedroom. Promise not to laugh?" Mc put their hand on the doorknob.

"The fact that you had to ask makes me curious, but yes." They swung open the door to be greeted by a colorful, cute room that had been designed for what looks like a toddler. The decor looked like it was for a teenager, but the walls were painted like a forest, with forest creatures scattered. "It's cute in here." He took in the entire room. Mc glanced away, bashful.

"You should go shower quickly, before everyone downstairs moves up to bed." They opened one of the dresser drawers, and passed him a large hoodie and pair of sweatpants. He chuckled, but let you push him towards the bathroom. Once both of you had showered and changed, you were in your room again together.

You pulled back the covers of your bedspread, wiggling under it, and avoiding Satan's gaze. "I can sleep on the floor, if that makes you more comfortable." He said.

"No, no. It's fine. That would be unfair to you." You wave him off and pat the bed softly.

"You could've told them we weren't dating. I wouldn't have been offended, Mc." He tried his best to hide the smile on his face.

"Well, they seemed to really love you. I just couldn't break their hearts like that. Besides, I actually don't mind that idea..." You trailed off shyly.

"Hmm, what was that?" He decided to tease you a little.

"Nothing! Nothing, 'tan." You laugh a little.

“Well, seeing as everything is usually about me, and my dysfunctional family, tell me all about yours.” That seemed to do the trick to ease you. As he settled into bed next to you, you began to talk about family member he’d met downstairs. It was no wonder you fit in with his family so well. You knew each member of both of your families like the back of your hand, down to every detail. It really showed how much you payed attention to detail and cared.

As you fell asleep with a quick apology and a yawn, he remained awake. You were facing each other, so he was able to see your facial features and the awkward way your arms rested. He moved the blanket up higher over your shoulders, studying your features with a small smile.

Despite being a demon, he couldn’t help but feel blessed by some divine power out there to be graced with someone as sweet, and caring as you. Watching your chest rise and fall, he brushed your hair aside a little. The domesticity of this, and of everything that day had entailed made him fall more and more for you. Just being in your presence was enchanting.

He could get used to this. The next morning would be even more fun, since he knew you weren’t exactly an early riser. With a sigh, he shut his own eyes, but not before he put one of his arms around you. He was so grateful for you.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #omswd #obey me! shall we date #obey me shall we date #obey me barbatos

190 notes · View notes

inoreuct · 3 months

Text

been thinking about asura zoro lately.

possibly a prince sanji au where sora’s kicked her shitstain of an ex-husband out of the kingdom and his siblings are going through behavioural therapy,,,

at any rate, sanji’s wandering across the grounds one afternoon and he sees someone sitting beneath his favourite apple tree in the middle of the field. he thinks it’s yonji at first, but no— the hair’s too short and the wrong shade of green. less neon than his brother’s electric lime and more like… moss.

the man has one leg propped up with his arm resting on his knee, an apple clutched loosely in his hand. he turns as the grass rustles with sanji’s steps and sanji notes the vertical scar over his left eye that cuts through his brow and down his cheek. “you’re in my spot.”

“hm,” the man says, completely unbothered. he lifts the apple to take a bite and his open robe shifts with the wind, the hilts of the three swords tucked into his sash knocking gently against each other.

sanji narrows his eyes. “move.”

a slow, lazy grin. “no.”

“you—!” the prince is just about ready to boot this guy in the ass. “you do realise who i am, don’t you?”

“no,” the man repeats, shrugging a shoulder and peering down at his apple before taking another bite.

that gives sanji pause. everybody knows who he is. it’s inescapable— queen sora’s kindest son, with the golden hair and a heart to match. ocean eyes and the hands of a chef and legs steadier than any sailor’s. he has a duty to fulfil and an image to uphold, and it’s—

well. it’s just that sometimes, he thinks that he wasn’t made for this life at all— that he was meant to be out there, on the ocean, skipping over the waves with the wind in his hair and the sun on his brow, feeling the grit of sand between his teeth. he has satisfied himself with the comforts of royal life, with the orchards and the kitchens, but something pulls at him still. it tugs his heart towards the coast and whispers for him to shed the courtly graces he wears as tangibly as the cloak over his shoulders.

sanji is quiet as he reaches up, swallowing over the soft click of the clasp before red velvet falls into his hand. he drops it to the grass and lets it pool, puts one palm on the ground before settling against worn, rough bark and letting the pattern press into the skin of his spine.

“it’s peaceful here.” the man’s voice is low, slipping beneath the soft sigh of wind. “quiet.”

“it hadn’t always been,” sanji says, before he can stop himself. he has no reason to be doing this— to be saying anything at all, much less sitting down. he should be yelling for the guards and then taking this guy out himself. he’s a stranger who’d somehow made it onto royal grounds, through the extensive defences they had; one with three swords and scars, sanji reminds himself as he eyes the gnarly line of pearly tissue running diagonally down the man’s chest. he’s, by all definitions, a threat.

and yet, sanji hasn’t felt anything at all. no hostility, no fear— just… stillness, if he had to put a word to it. a sort of calm.

“the king… he was cruel,” he continues softly. “he treated my siblings and i like lab rats to be used. my mother was nothing more than a pretty thing to fill a space beside him. this palace, this kingdom used to be filled with war and pain and noise.” sanji chances a glance up to find the man already looking at him, and he quickly looks away. “sometimes, he’d come back from war stinking of blood and death. even worse was when he’d bring my siblings with him. he forced them to fight, see— didn’t even give them a choice, because of his experiments.”

the words are bitter as he spits them out, and sanji feels his hair bunch when he tilts his head back against the tree and blows out a breath. “i was always the failure.” the grass is damp with dew as he rubs a few blades between his fingers. “the weak one. the useless one. and i was the one who dragged him outside the city gates and told him that if i ever saw him again i’d take his head.”

he’s no longer as angry about it, he thinks. sanji has spent enough of his life being angry. the thought just carries a muted tone now, satisfied and a little victorious but also resigned— sometimes he looks at fathers in the squares and the markets, carrying their children on their shoulders and indulging them in the smallest of things, overpriced candy and tag on the dusty cobblestones, and his eyes burn. he should have had that. he never did, and he never will.

sanji lets his eyebrows flash up, swallowing against the tightness in his chest. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all this, anyway,” he says with a light, forced laugh. “i don’t even know who the hell you are.”

“nobody important,” the man hums. “not yet. but one day i’ll be the greatest swordsman in the world.”

the prince believes it. he feels something now, at least— a presence of sorts, like pressure from all sides, present but not pushing. just there. “i think… i want to get out of here.”

again, he doesn’t know why he says it. he has the urge to slap a hand over his mouth as soon as he does, in fact. because everything’s fine now, everything’s finally going well; judge is gone, his siblings are safe, his mother is safe, and he should be happy. he is happy. he gets to cook all he wants and he’s—

he’s not. he’s not happy. he wants to go, wants to— to grab a boat and disappear, sail to the edge of the horizon and then beyond. it aches in his chest like someone’s squeezing his heart, fingertips digging into tough muscle, and he rubs the heel of his hand through the fine weave of his shirt.

the man bites into his apple again, and the crisp crunch cuts through the still air. sanji lets his eyes slip shut.

“where do you want to go?” the man asks.

sanji laughs, a soundless exhale. “the all blue. it’s an ocean with every kind of fish you could imagine and then some. i want to open a restaurant. a place of my own where nobody will ever go hungry.”

a pause, and then the man turns to look at him. “do you know why i’m here?”

“no.” sanji cracks an eye open, sighing impatiently. “why?”

“the change. all this place has known for years was turmoil and war and chaos. and then suddenly… it all went silent.” he eyes sanji unreadably. “somebody took notice.”

somebody, huh? if sanji’s dealing with a religious nutcase, he might just burst into laughter. or knock this guy out. maybe both. “you believe in god, then?”

“no,” the man says flatly. “and even if one did exist, they didn’t help you then. they won’t help you now.”

the blonds’s eyes narrow as he sits up straight and slowly raises an eyebrow. “if that’s supposed to be a threat, mosshead, i’m not scared of you.”

“mosshead?!” the other splutters, the first sign of real human emotion sanji’s seen on him, and sanji laughs.

“it fits!”

“it’s—”

“blasphemous? disrespectful?” sanji teases, somehow more at ease than he’s felt in ages. he doesn’t know who this man is, and who he is doesn’t matter— he’s free to run his mouth, and he damn well will.

“you should be scared of me, you know,” the man says, voice gritty, and sanji smirks.

“why so?”

and— oh.

that presence from before increases exponentially, until he feels sweat bead beneath his collar. dirt gathers beneath his fingernails as he scrabbles backwards, instinctive, throat bobbing as he counts three, four, six arms, and three heads, and three grey eyes glinting like watered steel. wind whips through the clearing, shaking the branches of the tree— sanji reminds himself to close his mouth as he sits beneath the rustling, as black tendrils of shadow snake through the air, swelling around the man’s silhouette, silky and molten. it’s not just that overwhelming, omnipresent aura; he’s got to be two heads taller than a normal man at least.

sanji’s breath is stuck in his throat. and then he looks down; that half-eaten apple is still there, shiny and red. the man’s swords — nine of them, now — clatter gently by his hips, and his earrings jingle with something that almost sounds like gentle laughter, and his hair is still impossibly green.

“…is this supposed to be intimidating?” he offers, climbing to his feet with a bored cock of his hip. “i mean, it’s impressive and all, mossy, don’t get me wrong, but—”

the man’s form snaps back to normal in an instant, leaving him with an almost comical look of disbelief on his face. “you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“i’m traumatised,” sanji corrects, cackling. “after my bastard of a sperm donor, i doubt i could be scared of much else. besides, you haven’t done anything but talk to me. that’s a lot more kindness than most people can say they’ve shown.”

he watches the emotions flash across the man’s face like a play-by-play until his strong features finally settle on something not dissimilar to determination. “we’re going.”

“huh?” the sudden subject change throws him. “where?”

“the all blue,” is the impatient answer as the stranger crosses his arms. “didn’t you say you wanted to go?”

“yes, but—” sanji makes a series of exasperated noises as he tries to find his words. “i can’t just— go! i have responsibilities, i need to—”

“you need to be free,” the man grunts, and sanji stops short. “can’t keep a bird caged and expect it to be happy.”

the prince bites his lip, heart pounding. this is crazy. this is insane, it’s how kidnappings happen, he shouldn’t even he considering this. “…if, even if we were to go— how would we get there? how would we even find it?”

“we’ll figure it out?” the man pins him with a look that says duh, like it’s no big deal. “i know a witch who’s a navigator, she owes me a favour. and a guy who works in a shipyard. it’ll work.” he looks like he’s about to start tapping his foot, but then his expression softens. “one day,” he says, eyes skating across sanji’s face. “we go for one day, sunrise to sundown, and if you don’t like it i’ll bring you right back.”

sanji’s chest aches. his breath trembles against his teeth. “why?”

his stranger swallows, gaze tilting down as his fingers drift to the hilt of the white sword by his side, like it’s a comfort. “you aren’t scared of me.” his eye is a flash of silver as he looks up again, bottled starlight and iron. “maybe that’s more kindness than i’m usually shown, too.”

maybe sanji’s losing his mind. maybe he’d lost it a long time ago. because he finds himself nodding slowly and breathing, “okay.”

a sharp, sure nod. “we leave tomorrow. settle your affairs and meet me down by the beach at dawn.”

“alright.”

sanji watches the man turn and amble away, in no apparent, rush, before a thought strikes him. “wait!”

green hair shifts in the sunlight as he twists back around, one scarred palm by his ear. “hah?”

“what’s your name?” sanji yells across the clearing, and the smile that’s sent his way is blinding.

“meet me and i’ll tell you, curls!” the man yells back, and then he’s gone. just— disappears, like he’d been a figment of imagination.

an apple core tips against sanji’s ankle, pale and clean.

(sora takes one look at his face when he asks and lets him go.

“you’d always been restless,” she tells him gently, as she helps him pack his things into a burlap satchel and sets his spice tins carefully into their case. she says he’d been loud even as a baby, wailing right out of the womb with eyes the blue of cornflowers and summer skies and the water, riotous and gentle and vast like his heart.

she sends him off with a kiss to his forehead, hands cupping his face as she smiles against his skin, and this time sanji welcomes the burn in his eyes.

he finds zoro by the beach like something out of a fairytale, skin bronzed in the light of a new day, glowing with the orange dancing off the waves. he has a boat waiting, barely big enough for two, wrist draped over his sword hilts as he yawns and scratches at his head, and sanji grins so hard his face hurts.

his palms on the lip of sealed wood have his heart pounding hard enough to feel it against his ribs, his shoes sinking into the sand as they push the dinghy out to sea and jump on, and he shoves his hand in the water just because he can.

“zoro,” the man says abruptly, two extra shadows framing him in the sunrise like a mirage, and sanji’s lips curl up at the edge. “that’s my name.”

“okay, mossy,” he sing-songs, and bites down a laughing scream when zoro rocks the boat so hard he nearly falls out.

he does tell zoro his name, when he decides that he’ll stay. they’re still on their little boat; it’s sunset now, and the green-haired man is taking up all the space in his other form, stretched out with his hands folded behind his head. “i’m sanji, by the way,” he offers, offhand, and watches zoro crack an eye open to grunt in acknowledgment.

he pretends not to see the soft smile that the other man flips over to hide. zoro hardly ends up using it anyway, the brute.

sanji really doesn’t mind.)

#don’t know WHERE i was going with this #like feeling around a wall in a dark room with paint on my hand #call that ABSTRACT ART 😏👍🏼#one piece #zosan #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #one piece zosan #one piece zoro #zoro #ino writes #this is an au where sanji meets zeff out there i guess… as of now the poor babygirl still thinks he’ll never get Fathered™#JUST YOU WAIT SANJI JUST YOU WAIT #mmkay goodnight yall #and happy 初二 to those who celebrate cny muakss

214 notes · View notes