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shaisuki · 4 months

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POSITIVE TEST RESULTS

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── pregnancy, babytrapping, noncon, dubious consent, stockholm syndrome, implied abuse, breeding kink, mentions of abortion, allusions to suicide. dead dove do not eat.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ a baby! the excitement and the incomprehensible joy they felt when they are expecting from you. a blessing or a curse? anyways, no matter what it is to keep you in place with them.

GOJO SATORU

the six eyes are everything. it can see the unknown and the forces that dwells that is invisible in the naked eye. satoru is grateful for the power he wield and it is the most useful in also keeping an eye on you. he knows it first before you can. the breath you take, the first step you make and the rhythm of your heartbeat. wether it was racing from the fear or the continuous pleasure he gives to you while he pumps his fingers into your tight hole.

there's nothing the six eyes he possess can't see and it's no different when he hears the first heartbeat of his child formed into your womb.

his child. he is having a child with you and satoru was over the moon when he found out.

long arms encased your soft form in his lap. your back in his chest while he hums a song. his lips ghosting on the expanse of your exposed shoulders. playfully nibbling on the skin when he hears the tiniest of whimper from you.

large palms drapes in your stomach. kneading the layered flesh like a cat making biscuits. satoru hums in delight. contented at this domestic bliss without too much fuss from you. you could be such a handful at times but it was fine to him. you were still adjusting to this life. a new environment for you and for him.

after numerous of escape attempts, he declares the staff and servants alike in the gojo household to be incompetent. it wouldn't happen if they were doing their job. he founds it useless and he took the matter in his own hand.

a penthouse to keep you. luxurious it was for one's taste. equipped with the latest security and glasses so thick that a bullet cannot dent it. money was no problem for it. gojo has an endless wealth to spend it especially for you. the safety and welfare of his wife always in the top of his priorities and it was worth every single penny of it. you cannot be bored taking the view of the city lights in the night time. overlooking the streets of tokyo.

pleasant it is but to you, beautiful the penthouse is but no matter how gilded it is, it is still a cage and you were the bird.

he breathes into your scent. it has been days since he touched you and satoru savors every second of it. your body a wonderland to him and he must be the only to explore it. satoru doesn't shy away from touching the parts that you didn't like. giving it the most of attention to prove it to you how much he loves it. particularly your stomach. lately, he's been obsessed with it. the talks of getting you pregnant and seeing you with child sparks the joy deep inside him.

satoru's patient. waiting for the result of the labor and love you both had poured in creating a life and he knows it is not that fast but he made sure you were properly bedded every chance he can get. now, all he had to do is wait. he may or may not been activating his technique to ensure you are with his child.

it happened in a blink of an eye when he first felt it. it was like an explosion of tiny molecules and forms into one. a dew rolling from a leaf and creating a ripple in calm waters. then he can hear the small “thump” of a heartbeat and you were rewarded by the sweetest of kiss and the next words he uttered were static in your ears.

“i'm not. it's my body. i'm the first one to know it.” you mutter. reasoning the most obvious truth and it was just a lie your ears want to hear.

“why would i lie to you, i can see and feel everything and that includes you, my wife.” he confidently counters to you. his voice never faltering in enthusiasm as he reveals the newfound joy to you.

your lashes are clumpy and the familiar stinging sensation makes way to your eyes. there is no way you will be carrying this man's child. you can't. you can't bear it. you can't carry this child. not with this man. you already feared the day it would come and now. you didn't realize the first drops of tears came cascading down you cheeks. placing your hand in your stomach and clutching the flesh like the fetus inside of you will magically disappear. this child wasn't even born yet and you're dreading you would become a mother to this one.

“don't cry, (y/n). i promised you didn't i? i will take care both of you.” he ever so sweetly convinced you to carry with this pregnancy and you felt manipulated again and then you were just a puppet.

“you've been a good wife to me. what's the difference of being a mother to our child.” he says, consoling you in his way that would only matter to him. you're carrying his child and as your husband and him being a father in the next months, you would be provided with the utmost care from him. starting on how he's going to worship this body of yours. pregnant and sensitive.

he's already kneeling in front of you. his blue eyes all of it's glory. staring at you with such adoration while he kisses the roundness of your stomach. pressing his cheek in the flesh. wanting to hear the faint thump of the heartbeat of his unborn child.

you tried to push him away. pressing your thighs together to avoid further ministrations from him but gojo effortlessly pried your thighs open. easily diving to get closer to you while his hands holds your wrist.

“satoru—ahhh” a moan accidentally slipping past your lips. his nose nudging the slit of your cunt before taking a lick from it. his hold on your wrist tighter as you tried to stop him.

“satoru, no—ahh” he chuckles. hearing you moan again and gojo takes pride of that. he ought to make you happy. furthermore increasing the success rate of you giving birth to a healthy son or maybe a daughter. frankly, he don't care. a child with you is better than none. a baby would eliminate all the problems he used to have with you and all the fuss will decrease.

such sweet cries for me, my adorable wife. he thought. your grip getting weaker the more his tongue laps up the slick coming out from your sweet cunt.

submit to him and let him do all the work. he did promise he will take care of you. for now, let him taste you. claim his reward for all the efforts.

you wouldn't deny him of his happiness, eh?

NANAMI KENTO

it's not everyday you can see a man with a built like nanami looms and searches from every rack of the pharmacy looking for a pregnancy test.

he's not getting his hopes up but rather ensuring that you are just fine and well though deep inside he's hoping that you are expecting. nanami had been dreaming of a domestic bliss lately. a child with you. hopefully one that looks and takes after you. he would be so happy.

nanami sighs, adjusting his glasses and shaking his thoughts of you being pregnant with his child. your welfare comes first before any others.

he's gone in the day before he comes home in the evening and the very first step he took in his home, he knew something was up.

the bathroom lights was on and there he sees your plush form kneeling in front of the toilet, spilling the contents of your stomach.

by the sound of his footsteps getting nearer he noticed how your body turned rigid.

“uhmmm.” flushing the toilet and standing up to turn on the faucet. letting the cold water run through the drain and wipe your mouth stained with vomit. trying to hide the evidence of you being sick.

“are you okay?” his stern voice cutting through the nervousness creeping up on you. large palms cupping your cheeks gently. you nod. “just a bit tired, actually. i'm going to bed.” you excused and with the furrows of your brows and that frown in your lips. nanami is sure what you're trying to hide.

he grabs a multiple of test kits. it's better to be sure before checking it out along with a few necessities for him to bring home.

when you see the pregnancy test kits being handed to you. you gave him a puzzled look. “i'm not. it's just the bug or something.” you reason to him. shielding yourself from the possibility of what he's implying.

“i know. better be sure than never, my love.” he managed to convince you and with that you took the test.

“why, ken? why would i be pregnant? i never missed taking the pills!” you asked him. sobs racking throughout your body as you look at the multiple pregnancy stick resting in the sink. all positive.

cruel and heartless and beyond him, nanami may or may not have tampered your pills. he never did intended to do this but lately you have been being stubborn than you are. his choices leading him to this unwanted pregnancy for you but to him he was happy. always wanted to be a good husband and a father to his child with you.

“accidents happen. we're in this together, okay?” it was never be fine with you. you can't be pregnant. “no—no!” your voice raising into a pitch. “i can't carry this child.” you could never. if kento was willing to shackle you with those cuffs, what's the difference it would be to your child. already chained to this man.

it took him a few minutes to fully calm you down. you're settled in the bed with him behind you. “i would be present throughout the duration of your pregnancy.” he assures you. bundling your hair in fist and putting it aside. kissing your nape and the gesture sending a shiver down your spine. “you are going to be a good mother.” peppering kisses to your shoulder blade and his other hand wanders until it reaches you belly. plump and squishy. in the next months it's going to be rounder and firmer. swollen with his child.

“i'm unfit to be a mother.” you whisper and nanami murmurs to your skin. “you're not.” pressing a tender kiss in the spot of your pulse in your neck. “i will harm this child.” you warned. “i will keep you confined to bed if needed then, but set aside those thoughts for me. i won't allow such things.” holding a firm hold to your jaw and then he whispers to you.

“allow me, my wife.” your body jolts in response. his index finger prodding your hole while rubbing your clit. “let me reward you for such wonderful news.” the gravel in his voice getting mellow. nanami won't allow you to harm yourself or the child you are carrying.

if it means of complete submission coming from you. nanami would not think twice of doing it over and over again. for now, he's happy you're gracing his home with a child. hopefully, it would take your mind off from the trivial things.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

it wasn't a surprise when toji received the news of you being pregnant. he did breed you well. mounting you every night like you were nothing but a fleshlight and his cumdump.

you were only given a raised brow and a cocky smirk coming from him. oh, how did he love the look on your face. scared and bothered of the reality of you being a mother to his child. toji wasn't that interested in becoming a father either but now it's a thrill. thinking of the ways he can control you without you resisting him.

“is that so?” he asks bored. disinterested even before breaking into a smirk. “now, you won't even think of opposing me.” patting your round belly in a degrading manner. once the spotlight for mockery and humiliation he used to hold you. “my brat spawning in to you. i did give you plenty of it.” he says amused.

a invisible leash wrapped around your neck for him to pull as he pleases. with the presence of the baby in your womb it looks like the future of yours is getting bleak with no hope for you along with the little one growing inside you.

it would curse you for being the mother and the father it will grow up with.

your body feels like lead. stuck in the mattress and every time you move, you sink deeper and maybe it was better until it swallows you whole. you wished it was that easy.

“spread your legs wider.”

you bite back a whimper. bile rising up in your throat as your body moves in autopilot. listening in what he orders to you. “geez, all those troubles i had to deal with and you're only this obedient when pregnant. maybe i'll just keep you pregnant all the time.” licking his lips before leaning closer to you. his breath in your ear.

there's a stinging sensation in your cunt while his cock slowly bullies inside you followed by a groan coming from him. his teeth nibbling in the shell of your ear and you bit your lip. silently taking him while he relishes on the feel of your tight hole spasming around his length.

“you're tight as ever. you don't mind me filling you up again, wife?” you remained silent. his power overwhelming you and toji chuckles. “then, don't mind me”

GETO SUGURU

there's been quite a commotion in his own little family and geto paid no mind to it. having a cult to run that requires his attention every now and then. seriously, stupid monkeys can't be trained without him and there's also those who can't keep their money running stable. quite trouble.

anyways he had to know what is causing those commotions that keeps everyone in high spirits. there he meet nanako and mimiko gushing over his chubby darling. seated in one of the chairs while the twins surrounds you. mimiko brushing your hair while the other twin, nanako holds your hand. soothing and assuring you of a situation he have yet to learn.

“geto-sama.” the twins greeted him. bowing their head a little before giggling a bit of the news they recently learned. “(y/n)-sama received news from the doctor earlier. they said she's expecting.” they broke to him and geto sees you in the corner of his eye uncomfortably shifts in your seat. “leave us.” he instructs the girls and they oblige. scurrying to leave the room in glee.

by the gods above, he worships you more. if only you knew that. it would be a weakness if he shows how much he adores you. he's in control. he's above you. you could never surpass that.

his lover on front of him shifts her gaze away from him and geto grasp your chin in his index and thumb finger. forcing you to meet his steely gaze in the purple abyss of his eyes. “i'm sorry.” you first speak up to him. biting your lower lip to hold a sob.

he can see you're scared. “what for?” he asks. searching for those gleaming eyes of yours, now misty. “for being pregnant.”

geto scoffs playfully at you. “there's nothing to be sorry. a wonderful news for us.” he assures you and you swallow the invisible lump in your throat. “is it?” you reply to him and he smiles. “it is.”

“i lay with you every night. made sure you are properly bedded by me.” no shame of that and there's a deep rumble of his laughter upon seeing your flustered expression. it's almost real how he looks so happy.

he is. when suguru decided to eradicate non-sorcerers he thought of how he's going to fill a country with sorcerers then you came to his life and he would be the creator of the new era. a bloodline. it would be his. yours and his. children that would carry his will and would be the part of a country where they are safe for him.

the news of you expecting. he can see the cogs being place to each of their respective places. already fulfilled.

his palms rough against your skin and yet it brings comfort to you. warmth. long gone he replaced the uneasiness in your heart with his and all the doubts you had of him. now, you're ready what he is about to make use of you. no questions. no qualms. all for him.

“you're mine.” he reminded you once again and you fall harder for him than the last time. “yours.” you whisper.

you were rewarded by a kiss. divinity touching you and warmth blooms all over you along with his hands wandering. to your round cheeks. squishing your chest and his palm in your round belly. imagining all the things he is already to do with your growing body with his child and geto is ecstatic.

his long and thick fingers finds the back of your obi and pulls the hem with no hesitation.

“mmm, suguru~” you mewl and geto smirks at how fast it takes for you to submit to him. “lay with me again tonight.” hands pinching to your supple flesh. fingers rubbing the spot between your legs and with a need. you grind your hips against them.

“as you wish.”

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jjk x reader #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy

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foli-vora · 1 year

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too close

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: more porn, idk what to say lmao. i want him to be cold and rough and i want it to hurt, y’ know what i mean?? anyway, here’s a supremely pissed off joel — enjoy! x

word count: just under 3.1k

warnings: swearing, very brief violence/mention of weapons, a close call, clicker attack, joel being a hero and being annoyed af about it, angsty vibes, the king of emotional constipation, SMUT 18+ ONLY: brief hand job, being restrained by being held down, unprotected p in v, very rough sex with bit of pain, no orgasm for reader coz punishment, cum shot over da assss

He hadn’t spoken.

Nothing. Not a single damn word since it happened.

Your heart still thunders in your chest, pounding in your ears and threatening to break free from its bone cage. The adrenaline has long worn off, leaving you with a tremble in your hands you can’t quite seem to get under control.

The weight of it still lingers on your body. The inhuman high pitched roar of it still circles your mind on an endless loop. The overwhelming rush of fear had paralysed you, frozen you under its brute strength and your touch had been numb around your weapon. That should’ve been it for you—done. Dead. Torn to fucking shreds right there on the filthy, muddied floor.

But he’d come out of fucking nowhere.

A body had rushed in from the side, the clicker barely able to turn towards the noise with a wailing screech before a weight spear tackled it and gave you the chance to roll back onto your feet. You had watched, through dazed eyes, as Joel had wrestled with the creature before firing a few bullets into its sickly orange flared head with his own roar of fury.

The snarl hadn’t left his face as he stood, glaring down at the clicker, almost daring it to fucking twitch, before he spun for you, tugging harshly at your arms and collar to look for any marks. He’d shoved you away after his hurried check, uncaring as you stumbled back from the unexpected rough touch and seemingly satisfied with your untorn skin.

He had ignored your shaky thank you.

Though he doesn’t talk, he still touches. His hands cover any sharp surfaces you pass, his forearm presses into your chest to keep you from moving forward when it’s too risky, his palm pushes at your head to ensure you get through the tunnel without hitting your head—

Little things.

Little things that let you know he’s not about to throw your ass out onto the streets of the QZ for being such a fucking idiot… you hope, anyway.

The silence remains, thick and uncomfortable, all the way back until you finally reach your quarters undetected. Joel dumps his pack on the floor without a care, striding straight for the bottle of shitty homemade booze left out on the table. You hang back, nervously fiddling with your fingers as he downs a generous mouthful, ignoring the drop that escapes his lips and melts into his patchy beard.

You swallow, tongue sweeping over your dry lips, “Joel?”

He doesn’t react.

Instead, he tears a chair out from where it’s tucked under the table and allows himself to drop into it with a sharp exhale, one hand brushing down his tired features. His eyes focus beyond the floor, the slosh of the amber liquid the only sound in the dark room as he nurses the bottle slowly.

“Joel.” Firmer. Harder. “Can we talk ab—”

“No. No, we cannot.”

The pure acid in his rumble of a tone burns. You shrink from the force of it.

“Joel, I… I’m really sorry—”

“Oh, well shit—that just makes it all better!”

“I’ll be quicker next time, it just took me off-guard, bu—”

“‘Next time’?”

It’s incredulous, spat through tight lips as if it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever fucking heard in his life. His wild eyes suddenly focus on you and your breath sticks in your throat. They zero in on where you stand, still hovering by the door, nervous to take a step further into your shared dwelling.

“There ain’t gonna be a fuckin’ ‘next time’. Your ass is stayin’ in the QZ—permanently.”

“What? Joel—”

“I do not want to hear it,” he snarls. “The hell were you thinkin’, huh?! It fuckin’ had you!”

It all comes back. The feeling of it hitting you, grabbing you, forcing you to the floor and screeching in your face. Death had been mere inches from you, death had had you in his damn grasp. The shadow of it brings a shiver along your skin.

“I know.”

It’s weak, pathetic.

“You can’t afford to freeze like that! Not out there. You get one chance to not fuck up—one fuckin’ chance! If I hadn't been there… Jesus Christ.”

He shifts to lean forward, resting an elbow in the upper crease of his knee as his fingers press tightly into his eyes and rub. You step lightly towards him, crossing the space between you and carefully reaching out to run a hand along the arch of his back, feeling the muscles jump under your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, carding your fingers through his dry, mussed strands and softly working through the slight knots sitting there, “I really am—”

He bitterly knocks your hand away, jerking away from your touch like you’d burnt him, and it cuts into your heart, tearing through muscle and spilling a vicious icy ache through your chest.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he mutters stiffly, standing from his chair and walking away from you.

You bring your hand back towards your chest and swallow the thickness building in your throat before you can choke on it. The rejection stings, and the tears that build along your lash line are automatic.

They blur your vision of him standing at the window, back to you, arms crossed tightly across his chest. He’s rigid, posture hardened by the mix of emotion filling him. You know better than to approach him again, and instead sink down into the chair he vacated.

Silence returns, the tension rolling from his shoulders in waves reaching you despite being across the room. You pick at your skin, peeling the flakes of dried mud from your hands and pulling at the stray threads loosened from your sleeves.

Was there any way of coming back from this? It had taken you weeks to wear him down enough to even think about taking you out of the QZ on a small run, and now? He’d never go for it again. You’re back to having the mile high walls as your prison, your cage.

You’re more capable than this, you’d just been surprised is all. Surely you weren’t the first person to have been taken off guard by their appearance? To wonder how the hell something like that could come from a human? You’d never seen one at that stage before… couldn’t he just understand?

There were others, a quiet voice rings through your mind, only they never made it to the other side to think about it, to question it.

It could’ve killed you, it could’ve killed Joel, and that was all on you. All the work, all the planning, all the potential earnings… gone to shit, because you couldn’t keep your head straight the second you ran into trouble.

“I’m sorry for ruining the run,” you mutter, quickly swiping away the hot tear trailing down your cheek, “I’ll find extra work and get you the ration cards you’ve lost from this.”

He slowly turns to face you, a deep scowl carved into his stone set features and his arms drop to his sides, his hands clenching into fists. You fight the urge to curl in on yourself and remain stiff shouldered, returning his glare with a shakily stubborn gaze despite the few remaining tears that slip free from where they gather along your lashes.

“Christ. Is that what you’re thinkin’ about right now?” He’s quiet, but the rage still simmers away beneath the surface of his tone, causing the already deep drawl to roughen. “I don’t fuckin’ care about the damn cards.”

“Then why are you so fucking mad at me?” You cry out, “I said I was sorry! I made a mistake, everyo—”

“I almost fuckin’ lost you!”

You freeze at the sudden volume of his voice, the low simmer now a full boil. His shout bounces off the cracked walls and brings a whole new kind of silence to the room, the sheer ferocity of it bringing your heart into your throat. He shakes his head and turns back towards the window, saying nothing more and leaving his words to hang in the dark.

The little thing between you and Joel had never been defined, and probably never would be. He just wasn’t like that. Sweet nothings and declarations of feelings had never, and will never, leave his lips. You weren’t even sure he liked you most of the time. You’re almost positive you’re nothing but an inconvenience to him, merely there to fill the deep void of loneliness the disaster of a world brought upon everyone.

But his words have your mind racing. Would it have bothered him that much? Does he see you as something more than an annoyance? Was it just as a companion, or maybe it ran deeper? Do you dare let the small bud of hope growing in your chest blossom into something stronger?

“Joel—”

“You should get some sleep.”

There’s no room for argument.

You give a small nod and stand, shedding the thick jacket draped from your shoulders and kicking your boots off. He doesn’t acknowledge you again, never moving his attention away from the window as you do a quick once over your dirtied skin with your damp rags before slipping under the thin, patched together blanket draped over the bed.

“Are you coming to bed?” You ask quietly, eyes following the curve of his side profile illuminated by the hue of street lighting seeping through the glass.

“No.”

Swallowing the discomfort starting to constrict the back of your throat, you give a strangled, “Okay,” and roll over, turning your back to him and burying your face into his pillow to hide the tears that escape when you squeeze your eyes shut.

He does.

Sometime in the early morning, your hand brushes against his back and it’s enough to bring you out of your troubled slumber. You’re careful not to jolt the bed too much as you shift closer to him, pressing up tight against his back and carefully smoothing a hand along his side.

You soak in the warmth his body provides, inhale the familiar waves of dirt and sweat that constantly roll from his skin. If you focus enough, you can detect the faint traces of mint that linger beneath the grime from the bar of soap it had taken you weeks to save for. You knew he liked it.

He’s awake—you can feel it. The tension is still wound tight in the muscles of his shoulders, his body still practically trembles from anger, but at least he doesn’t push you away again. Your hand wanders further, smoothing down to run over his stomach and up to his chest, resting over the heavy drum of his heart.

“Are you still mad?”

Silence follows your question. Did he hear you? Maybe you’d been wrong in your earlier observation and he was, in fact, asleep. Or he was just simply ignoring you, but then finally—

“Yeah,” he answers in his thick exhaustion riddled drawl, the word rough on his tongue.

“Oh.”

There’s nothing more to say. What could you say to make it better? Nothing. It had happened, and now you simply had to wait it out until the rage started to seep from his system. Would it take days? Weeks? Your hand starts to wander as you think, and you pay no mind to the paths it makes until you feel him stiffen under your touch.

You feel your fingers brush along the waistband of his jeans and your heart jumps in your chest, beating just that little heavier. He still doesn’t push you away. Maybe there’s nothing you could say, but maybe something you could do? Give him an outlet, a chance to work the anger from his system—

Heart pounding, you let your fingers slip beneath the denim and rake through the thick patch of curls there before finding his soft cock and carefully taking it in your grasp. There’s not a whole lot of room to work with the unforgiving stretch of his jeans, but you settle for what you can do, keeping your strokes light and restricted.

It doesn’t seem to matter.

His cock swells in your hold, the soft flesh thickening and hardening until it strains against its confines, throbbing heavily in your hand. The feel of him responding to your touch lights a fire in your core, every shallow jerk you make over his cock sending waves upon waves of warmth through your system until it builds in the pit of your stomach.

This could work. This could—

A hand curls around your wrist and tugs, tearing it out from inside his jeans and throwing it back towards you. Your stomach twists at the harshness of it, a brief flutter of panic shooting along your nerves as Joel tears the sheet away from his body and turns on you.

“What the hell are you doin’?” He demands in a rough grumble and you’re rolled onto your stomach before you could even think of uttering an apology, pressed into the unforgiving mattress by the weight of him straddling your upper thighs. “You think jerkin’ me off will make everythin’ better? You think it’ll make me forgive you? Huh?”

“N-no—”

“No?” He parrots gruffly, taking a wrist in each hand and pressing your hands into the bed. “That’s what it fuckin’ feels like.”

“That’s not—” you shift under the weight of him, attempting to adjust his grip on your wrists only for him to briefly tighten his hold, “—Joel, I—”

“You think I’m gonna soften on you just coz you’re touchin’ my cock?” He continues as if you hadn’t said a word, pushing himself roughly off your wrists and curling his fingers into your waist until it stings, forcing your ass up until he can curl over you and shove a hand to the front of your pants, “Think again, girl.”

He tears them open and straightens, fingers digging under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear before tugging harshly at them until your ass is bared to him. He doesn’t bother taking them completely off, merely shoving them down enough out of the way so he’d be able to reach your cunt.

It’s a rush. Your heart thunders in your ears, your nerves wind tight in anticipation. He’s not gentle. Your skin burns where the denim had been yanked down, his hands grab and squeeze until an ache follows his touch.

You’re barely able to comprehend the faint sound of a zipper before the blunt head of his cock is suddenly pushing between your thighs and nudging at your folds. It’s instinct to tense, knowing you’re not even slightly ready to take him, but you find yourself arching into him nonetheless.

He lines himself up, probing at your entrance before letting his hips slam forward in one savage thrust, forcing you to take the entire thick length of his cock and crushing you into the mattress. Your cry of surprise, pain, melts into the bed; your hands scramble across the bedding in search of something to hold, something to steady yourself with as he starts to move in earnest.

His pace is brutal.

It’s quick, hard.

A clear punishment, and you take it all eagerly, muffling the various noises he rips from your throat into the bedding. Arousal steadily builds as you flutter and clench around him while he takes what he wants, the feeling of him hitting a spot that feels almost too far in your cunt shooting right through your system until you feel tears sting your eyes.

Every hit to that spot is blissful agony, your body jolting and twisting from the feeling of having him practically in your stomach with every upwards thrust. The more you try to squirm away from him hitting so fucking deep, his hands tighten and tug you back, pressing you into the mattress and unable to move away from the steady force of his hips.

A hand curls around the nape of your neck, pushing and pushing you further into the bed and keeping you completely still and at his total mercy.

It’s too much. It’s fucking perfection.

None of it is for you.

Your swollen clit throbs from the lack of attention, the ache in your core only growing wilder and wilder as his cock continues to pound into you with no end in sight. There’d be no edge, no release. Only Joel and the way he seemingly tears you apart from the inside out, forcing your body to take the weight of his fury, the weight of his fear, again and again.

The cry that leaves your lips is sharp when he eventually rips himself away, his broken exhale mingling with a downright obscene grumble of a moan doing nothing to temper the relentless fire birthed from his aggression. He finishes over your ass cheek after fisting his cock and giving it a few firm jerks, painting your skin with his hot cum and letting the weeping tip of it slide through the mess as he comes down.

You pant into the bedding, your fingers still clutching the sheets for dear life. They ache when your grip finally loosens, your joints protesting the sudden relaxing of the digits. You hurt. You throb. You tremble from the rough fucking, your cunt quivers and weeps for more despite your walls feeling tender from his merciless entry.

He rolls off of you to sit on the edge of the bed, raking a hand through his now wild hair and drawing in a few deep breaths. Your eyes begin to flutter, your body heavy where it sinks into the mattress. He leans forward and braces his forearms on his thighs, barely sparing you a look at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he warns lowly, bringing you briefly out of the haze coaxing you further and further into an inky black abyss, “do you understand me? Never again.”

The words go unspoken, like so many had done before—I can’t lose you, too.

everything pp: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @Karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @patisseriel, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea, @sukunababe, @emiemiemiii, @your-slutty-gf, @wisecolornight, @emilianamason, @justreblogginfics, @marcmurdock, @everythingisspokenfortbh

joel miller: @jujuliaispunk, @joelmiller67, @tubble-wubble, @uwiuwi,

plus my two gorgeous babes who i think will enjoy: @charnelhouse & @frannyzooey

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #the last of us fic #pedro pascal x reader

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tomatopers · 3 months

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Childe who spends every waking moment tracking your killer, ignoring everything else to find the culprit, the one who had the audacity to think they could take you away from him and escape with their lives. He travels all across Teyvat, yet cannot bring himself to stop and see any of it though he knows you would've wanted to- hell, he can't even bring himself to sleep, instead passing out in alleys when he can no longer escape his own limits.

Childe who follows every clue, who ensures every dead end has no gaps, who finally, finally tracks down his target. They are stronger than he expected, but even without the rage boiling in his blood he could still beat them. He jumps into the fight without hesitation, fighting like a feral dog out for blood.

Childe who is sloppy with his attacks, not sloppy enough to miss but enough to leave openings for his opponent. He knows its on purpose. He wants to hurt. He fights and he fights, drawing it out, sustaining more and more injuries until, in a whirlwind of steel and anger, weapons meet their marks.

When the dust settles, your murderer lays dead on the ground. Childe stands, victorious, but the win brings him no joy. His opponent's dagger is embedded deep in his chest, and he had seen it coming. He couldn't bring himself to dodge it. This is a blatant betrayal towards you, towards your memory and your love. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "Don't be mad."

From his pocket, Childe holds a wooden fish; A trinket, the product of your first attempt at whittling. It doesn't look like a fish at all, but holding it is the closest he can get to holding you. He's so tired, and the ground looks so inviting. When he succumbs to the temptation, he can almost feel your warmth, as though you are lying beside him. "Did I do good, Angel? Are you... proud of me...?"

#HELP i got a little too silly #childe #childe x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #childe angst #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin #persimmonwrites

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ailithnight · 1 year

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So! Giving my reblogs to this amazing art by @providencehq their own post so I can keep adding on to this fic at my own leisure.

Please don't ask to be tagged. I'm relegated to mobile and simply cannot keep up with a taglist. All additions will be going in the reblogs on this post, though. So feel free to come back here periodically to see if I've added more.

I'm currently up to 3 chunks with 1 more in planning.

So, without further ado:

Caught and Content

Daniel James Fenton had died at 14.

And every day since then he has counted as a blessing. Especially the good ones, but even the bad ones. The terrible ones. The days so horrid that Danny wouldn’t wish them on the worst beings in the universe. Danny treasured them still. Because every breath, every too slow heart beat, even the ones that pulsed with terror and exhaustion and agony, every one was a miracle. A moment of life that Daniel James Fenton wasn’t meant to have any more.

Borrowed time.

That’s what it was.

Danny had been living on borrowed time since he was 14. And he had long since made peace with the fact that his borrowed time would some day run out.

He’s 20 now. 6 whole years he wasn’t meant to live but did anyway.

A few more months and Danny would be 21, old enough to buy his first alcoholic drink. But even if he lived that long now, he wouldn’t get the chance. The GIW would ensure that. Tuck had celebrated his 21st a couple months ago, and Sam a few months before him. Danny would never get to celebrate his with them.

But that was okay. As said, Danny had long since made peace with the uncertain nature of his borrowed time. He didn’t need to go out to a bar with his friends and celebrate that he had survived 21 whole years. It would have been a lie anyway.

Daniel James Fenton had died when he was 14.

He was in the Watchtower now. Power suppression cuffs and collar making his already battered body feel even more weak and achy. Batman was staring at him. Superman and Wonder Woman seemed to be telling him things. Or asking. Interrogating. Danny paid them no mind. No answer he’d given them before seemed to satisfy. And he already knew what would come next.

These were government sanctioned heros. They were bound to the law. And the law said Danny must be turned over to the GIW. And since Danny had already escaped them and his parents once, he doubted they’d be keen to lock him up again. Research be damned, Phantom was too dangerous to be left alive. Or whatever facsimile of alive Danny existed in right now. Daniel James Fenton had died when he was 14.

So Danny ignored the government sanctioned superheros. He didn’t let his mind wander to tomorrows he’d never have. He had made peace with his death. So now he took every moment left of his breathing beating blessing to turn his gaze out the large Watchtower window.

Nothing else mattered as Danny beheld, breathed in, drowned in the last he’d ever see of the infinite beauty of the cosmos. He let himself relax, smile, and relish in the miracle of being here, of being allowed to see it one last time. And up so close, too.

And when the heros grew tired of Danny’s distraction. When they led him to a new room without any windows to peer out of. Danny stayed relaxed. Stayed smiling. He closed his eyes and waited for his borrowed time to run out. Even as Batman stared and Superman and Wonder Woman interrogated and the power suppression devices drained him of excess energy and he’s pretty sure the GIW were on their way to arrange his execution; he was contented.

Danny was not afraid. He was happy. At peace. Why would he be scared? After all, Daniel James Fenton had died at 14. Every moment since has been a blessing he has been grateful to have.

Because

Daniel James Fenton had died at 14.

#DP x DC #my writing #Caught and Content

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impactedfates · 6 months

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hehhaharhar i so totally not deprived of father figure! genshin men with kidnapped child reader? pls pls 💓💓💓any man is fine but perferably the tall ones ☝

★ A/N: Yeah sure you aren't...anyways, yep I got you covered with this request :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial

★ Format: HeadCannons (Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Childe, Kaveh)

☆ Warnings: Mentions and hints of kidnapping // Mentions of death (In Diluc and Childes) // Spoilers for the Liyue Archon quest if you have not done it yet // Mentions of going to the hospital (Kavehs)

★ Extra: Reader is adopted in Zhonglis one // Reader is shorter then most characters (They're about 6-7 age wise) // Reader has no vision // Reader is ofc NOT traveler

For whatever reason I can see it being a Fatui that kidnapped you. Perhaps to get payback for the massacre Diluc caused back in Snenznaya. Whatever the reason, once Diluc finds out you’re gone and it was because of the Fatui? Oh he’s more then pissed.

If they wanted to upset him, they succeeded. Perhaps too successfully as when he finally finds you, most of the Fatui that’s been there to ensure you don’t escape has been soaking in a pool of their own blood. He of course won’t hurt anyone violently if you’re in the room, but he will knock the other people in there out. He’ll pick you up and hide your face in his chest as he calmly walks out.

When you are back home, he’ll take a few days off work to ensure you’re okay after what happened, and maybe if it comes to it he may actually ask some of the Knights of Favonius for help as well.

Honestly whether or not he actually hurt anyone is up to you, however I do think that when it comes to family, he isn't that hesitant to be a bit more violent then usual.

Getting adopted and having your father being the ex-archon of Liyue had it's ups and downs, especially as you witnessed your father continuously forget his wallet, however never have you thought you'd get kidnapped.

You weren't sure why though, Zhongli had kept his identity a secret and the only ones knowing were other Archons and the traveler as far as you knew plus Zhongli in his "mortal" form isn't that much of an important figure to others, nor is he famous. Yet here you were, treasure hoarders surrounding you.

Meanwhile, Zhongli was panicking wondering where you went. One second you were close behind him, the next you were gone. So he quickly called upon some of the adeptus to search for you and thankfully, you also had the privilege to call upon Xiaos name and he'll come right to your side. Whatever happened to the treasure hoarders?

You're not sure, Xiao simply teleported you away and right into your fathers arms as he held you tight before disappearing into the green mist once again. Zhongli checks all over you to ensure you aren't hurt. After that day, he's sure to always have an eye on you and when he cannot. An adeptus will look out for you from afar.

Being a Knight, and a captain in fact. Kaeya definitely encountered people wanting to push his cool persona over the edge. It's part of the reason why he's a bit hesitant on growing closer to certain loved ones.

He's afraid of loosing them, so when he lost you. He did not take it well, despite his cool demeanour when he ordered some knights to go search for you, people like Jean and his brother Diluc were quick to see he was in a state of panic, Jean even offered to take over the search so Kaeya could relax but he didn't want too. He had to find you safe and sound, even if that meant he had to get hurt.

When you are finally found, he's quick to take whoever's responsible away and have Jean deal with them properly as he himself brings you to Barbara who checks for injuries you may have sustained. He's by your side at all times and may even be hesitant to leave your side.

Even though Jean likely did give him some time off to spend time with you and for him to cool down after what happened, he's still unwilling to leave you alone, even with another babysitter. He does reluctantly agree when his older brother offers to take care of you. He knows Diluc is strong and will be able to protect you. (Better than Diluc protecting him anyways)

Whoever kidnapped you must have a death wish or something...

Of course it's easy to see why someone were to kidnap you. I mean, being the kid of not only the fatui, but a harbinger. It's clear why someone tried to kidnap Tartaglia's kid but...it's not smart either.

The Fatui have a large amount of people working for them, and most aren't afraid to attack. And due to the fact Childe is a harbinger, it's easy for him to get people to find you as soon as he knows of your disappearance and when you are found, he asks his subordinates to take you back to his house where his family will look after you whilst Childe *cough cough* uh...deals with the perps responsible.

He'll come back soon, cleaned up but faintly smelling of blood and double checks to see you're okay. Now he does go back to work faster then anyone else, this is mainly because I don't think he'll really be allowed time off, however he does have some subordinates keep an eye on you from afar.

Oh archons, he is p a n i c k i n g. Once Kaveh finds out you've been kidnapped he's so worried, it takes Alhaitham to actually shake him to get him to finally focus on finding you. Unfortunately unlike the others listed in this post so far, he cannot easily go looking for you himself. However being friends with Cyno does mean you have the General of the Mahamatra looking for you and he is good at his job.

It may take awhile but eventually Cyno does find you, and after dealing with the kidnappers and arresting them. Takes you to the Sumeru hospital (they have one right?) to get healed as he tells Kaveh that you've been found.

Kaveh stays by your side no matter what, he'll sleep on the damn floor of the hospital if he has too, he doesn't even leave you once you're discharged from it either. He feels so guilty about what happened and blames himself so he tries his best to make more time with you. Even if this means his debts may increase, he just wants to spend as much time with you as possible encase this happens again.

And hey, Alhaitham may be kind enough to dismiss Kavehs missed rent payment that month.

Weehee. I actually enjoyed writing this :D However next time please make sure to check to see if my requests are open before sending one in, in any case I hope you liked this <33

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rinbowaman · 20 days

Text

H I S M A R K : H E E T H A N

WARNINGS: SMUT (UNPROTECTED), DUBCON TO NONCON SMUT, OVERSTIMULATION, SYMBOLISM, MARKINGS, YANDERE LOVE, OBSESSION, POSSESSIVE, MENTIONS OF MURDER, MISSING PERSON, FORCED LOVE, ISOLATION, CURSING, RESTRAINING, SOLITARY CONFINEMENT, HATE SEX, ANGRY SEX, MAYBE MAKEUP SEX, NOT PROOREAD (YET).

NOTE: THIS TAKES PLACE RIGHT BEFORE THE LATEST EVENTS OF HHP.

‘Let me tell you a story…

It is a tale that takes place before God created angels, and the continents spoke in ancient dialect.

Less stars filled the night sky, and the planets lingered in a straight line. Mortals in their youth stared and admired these stars, and drafted tales based on their alignment. Stories of The Big Dipper, and Orions Belt came to life, fulfilling philosophers with ideas and astronomers with hope. Amongst these glittering specters, was the Goddess of the Moon.

Unlike those around her, she laid in lonesome silence, and invisible to all who stared at the sky. Residing in her shadowed kingdom, she cries out of sorrow, for no light emerged from her home. In truth, she was nothing but the queen of a shallow orbit, despaired at the thought of mortals never witnessing her presence.

One day, while traveling in his usual circuit to warmthe earth, the Sun God appeared, crossing paths with the pitiful Moon. Seeing her in distress, he asks her delicately…

“Pretty Moon, why do you cry?”

Tilting her chin up, she bestows a wet, wide-eyed stare, and tells him. “I am invisible…I have no light. I lay amongst the twinkling of stars who shine brightly without effort, and witness tales created in their honor…I cannot make light of my own, therefore man will never witness my glory.”

The Sun God looks down at the dreadful Goddess, sympathizing with her. To provide comfort, he gives her a solution, by telling her to use his own light to generate her own. He shines brightly and warms her gray kingdom. “Shine bright, my beauty. For you will no longer be ignored by anyone. Let me warm you with my rays, and may you glow brighter than anything in the universe.”

Just as the Sun God promised through his aid, the Moon Goddess shined brightly. She glowed brighter than any star in the sky, and was called the “Sun of the night”.

As the hours of the day rotate, the Moon stationed herself in the middle of the darkened sky, only to find that she went back to being an invisible silhouette again. Seeking his help, she pleads to the merciful Sun; his response gave her gratification once more.

“Pretty Moon, don’t you worry. I will always make you shine and glow. Everyone in the world will know of your beauty. They will use your presence as a guide in the darkness…all you need to do is to commit yourself to me. Never leave my side and use my light to make ‘our’ light. Be a part of me forever…”

The Moon, not withstanding the thought of being invisible any longer, did as the Sun bids her…and each night, she shone brightly than the last.

But as time went by, she soon learned, that no matter how glorious she appeared, everyone could see that she was only as beautiful as the Sun would allow her to be. Mortals spoke and philosophically determined her reliance to the Sun, configuring that her existence could only be due to him.

Shamed at the thought of losing her independence as the Queen of the night, and becoming a slave to the Sun God.

Refusing to end the long line of matriarchal reign, the Moon tries to distance herself from the Sun’s grasp, yearning to gain the freedom she once had…but it was too late.

“Pretty Moon you can’t escape. Don’t you see? Without me, you cannot brighten the dark sky…leaving me means to leave the entire world in darkness. Stay with me and never leave again, and I will ensure that you shine brighter than ever.”

For centuries, the Moon rested in the shackles of the suns rays, finding it impossible to leave. Craving his light, she feeds off his hand and thus lived off of him. The Moon accepted her fate; without him, she would cease to exist…

Without him…she cannot produce light….

Without her Sun…she is nothing. And so, by his side she stays…forever holding back tears of regret. With a permanent smile edged on her surface, mortals are fooled by her perfected glow. Just as she had wanted, tales of her glory did emerge, yet always paired with her husband, the Sun.

“I am forever stuck here. I can never leave…I can never go back home….the Sun has his grasp on me and I won’t ever be the same again…for centuries I have been stationed this side….even during the day. They see my hallow form in daylight, not realizing that I am left with no choice…I am left with no say….for thousands of years he has kept me…and for thousands more, he will.”

Oh, to be the Diamond in the Sky….what an eternal price to pay…’

………………

This week had been the worst…followed by the last, and even the one before that. Was it just a twist of fate? Or perhaps it was something in the atmosphere. There was no way in telling, all you could figure was that each time you tried to make up with him, he pushed you further over the edge.

It has been over a year since you and Heeseung started dating. Despite the atrocities that occurred, such as the one with Samuel, or Tiff and Scott, you both lived blissfully in each other’s presence…just you and Heeseung.

It didn’t take long for people to see the rather unusual circumstance of your relationship with him. Just days after you became his, it became well known that you were strictly off limits…and by strictly, you mean that had anyone so much as looked your way, they would meet a very unpleasant meeting. Sometimes, though you have yet to substantiate it yourself, but you were quite certain by the disappearance of some who took interest, that they may even have met with death at his hand.

Of course with his family connections and the corruption they stirred in the city, any case that raised eyebrows always came to an unsolved end without any leads. The last time you inquired about a certain classmate, who miraculously disappeared after he approached and handed you a note that read…

‘I won’t tell if you don’t. ;)’

Of course, had he had enough brains to hand you the note aside and not in front of Heeseung’s car, he might have still been around. Had he any brains at all, he would have refrained from even seeking any prospective relation with you since you were claimed by “Ethan the Heathen”, or so they called him by.

You knew his level of love for you extended past what was considered normal, and sane. But it didn’t mean that innocent people should get hurt, all because of you. You figured that since he placed you above all, even himself, it may have earned you leeway in talking to him, perhaps even bringing the toxicity down a bit. But just as you inquired about the missing male, he accused you of loving him less. He further provoked you by claiming that your inquiry of another man’s whereabouts was unwarranted and that the only one you should ever think about, was him.

How could he ever speak to you in such a manner?

Perhaps you were at fault…since the very beginning, you knew of his crazed obsession with you. Not only were you aware…you liked it.

Many people would think you’re crazy if they ever heard you say it aloud, and rightfully so. Unlike those around you, they will never know this feeling of belonging to one person, who out of their own selfish love for you, suppresses you in isolation. Detaching you from the world, and safekeeping you for their own pleasure, they beat and pass deathly judgement onto those who touch you, those who try and hurt you. It was a sinful feeling of danger and adventure, and despite wanting him to do things right and in a rational sense, you’d be lying if you told others that his malicious insanity didn’t make you feel most loved.

But you knew it was wrong…and you couldn’t live the rest of your life being a death trap for others.

You denied that he had done anything extensive, but at the accidental discovery of bloodied clothes, kerosene, shovels, and potential weapons, all tucked away in a false wall within the closet, you developed the worst of fears.

……

“I just think that…maybe you could relax a little bit. I am always going to be here with you.” You initiate the conversation…again. Much to his annoyance. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too crazy? Plus, it would be nice if I could leave the room and go to the store or cafe by myself from time to time. I wouldn’t mind being treated like a human being, and not so much as a dog kept in a cage.”

You knew you were crossing the line, and surely you expected for him to give out one of usual punishments of locking you away for hours, chained or tied to one of the heavy upholsteries inside the room, sometimes nude or barely dressed in undergarments. Then of course, when he was really angered by your abhorrence, he took it up a step further from lessons learned through solitary confinement, and subjected you to derogatory acts that resulted in him demeaning you, physically and mentally, and breaking your spirit.

Strange…how one man could make you feel the most love, and yet at the same time, make you feel most ignored and even hated.

“Whenever you’re good, why can’t you just stay that way?” He’d snap out, hissing his tongue as he corners you, pressing your frame into a cowering stance as you kneel before him. “Why can’t you just fucking see how much I love you…it should be obvious by now.”

You argued back that there was no doubt that his love for you was present, and that you appreciated his gestures and the strength of his desire for you…it’s just…

“It’s just—I just want us to be a normal couple. Sometimes you really scare me, and I don’t know how to live with you when you display that side of you…that side that almost seems murderous.”

Instantly you regretted being so upfront. The moment he took your wrist, you regretted it even more.

“I’m so done fighting, get over here!” He spits out as he drags you away. Immediately, you realize he intended on chaining you up again, locking you away while he would ignore and leave you for God knows how long. It always drove you crazy with how lonely you’d become. He’d take away your phone, silence your screams through whatever gag-suppressing method he intended to use, and would even drug you to sleep by forcing a sleeping pill, or two, or sometimes opted for a natural sedative such as melatonin infused tea. It all depended how angry you got him, and right now, he was up there.

“No—stop! No more!” You yell out. It’s too bad you decided to pick today to argue, as his sorority brothers all left for the weekend. In fact, almost everyone on campus did, except you. He wouldn’t let you leave, and since his own schedule didn’t permit him to take you, he kept you back with him. “I want to go home! I hate you!”

You screamed as loudly as you could, not caring if your words hurt or angered him. “One more fucking word and I swear to God, y/n!”

He throws you on the bed, kneeling as he meandered a strategic grip on your arm, attempting to tie you to the bed frame. He’d do so by tightening the ropes to be just taunting enough so that your hands could not meet, and another attached to a belted choker would be latched onto your neck.

He successfully gets one wrist coiled in, and straddles over you to do the next. “You hate me? Then fucking stay here and rot for all I care.”

Your eyes began to tear up as you watch him reach for the other rope. “Don’t worry, I’ll still love you—I can love you even from afar.” He laconically spits out as he attempts to grab hold of your free hand. Desperate to avoid being alone and tied mercilessly, you reach around his neck and pull him in.

“Don’t! Stop! Please don’t do this!”

He ignores your pleads as he attempts to raise his frame, but your hold on his neck brings you up with him. He reaches up and tries to peel your arm off, and nearly succeeded effortlessly had it not been you regaining a grip on his jacket collar.

“Don’t do this…don’t leave me, I need you.” Your voice calls as you feel yourself on the verge of breaking down. Yes, you took on a tone of defeat, but if it meant that you weren’t facing lonely-induced depression, then you were willing to do anything. The sudden realization that you wanted him near you, to pay attention to you and to hold you was stronger now. “Please, don’t do this…I can’t be without you.” You cry into his neck as you held a python grip, embracing him as hard as you could.

He kept fighting with you, trying to break free from the single-arm embrace you had, but the softness of your voice and the pleading desire of needing him was starting to get to him. After all, he still loved you…and all he wanted, was for you to love him the way he understands it. It is brutal, irrational, non-sensible, and sadistic, but it was true love.

You cried into his throat and rubbed the tips of your fingers on the back of his nape. Feeling his tense body softened, you gained hope that he would be kind again. You truly were sorry…in the breach of his harsh punishment, you were left with no choice but to feel remorse. Through the guilt of spitting such terrible words, you realized more than ever that you couldn’t survive without him. What would have happened had he not been there to stop Samuel? What about Scott, and Tiff?

“Please…” you sobbed. Feeling his body growing dense against you, it encouraged for you to initiate the movements of passion as you waved your hips up and down, grinding against his groin. Nearly instantaneously, his cock hardens above and yearned to break free from the cloth.

“Please…Heeseung. I’m sorry…Im just scared…scared and nervous.”

You weren’t lying, you truly were scared, but the claim of being nervous wasn’t entirely so. You just knew him so well that had you said the right things, you could turn his mood around in a flick of an instant. Quicker than two fingers snapping. “I just don’t want anyone to break us apart…I’m scared of losing you.”

He raises his head, and you loosened your embrace as you felt him creating distance, not out of spite, but to relay sweet words. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of…not even me…” he gently takes your hand, while reaching for the rope. Damn he was so stubborn. Was he really intending on still tying you up? You committed another desperate move as you quickly raise your face to meet his, and there you kiss him. Initially, he wouldn’t let you in, but feeling your breath coating his lips, and the more your hips grinds against him, he falters. Finally…he kisses you.

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m sorry? Isn’t there anything I could do than to be locked away?” You breathed against his mouth once more, speaking softly as your tongue gently massages his. “Don’t you want me to be close to you anyhow? Wouldn’t you rather be locked away with me? Just the two of us…away from it all? Heeseung?”

Your hips begin to gyrate as that familiar tingle blisters beneath your pelvic muscles. You pick up the pace just a little more, and wrap a leg around his hips. “Heeseung…please…please touch me.”

You begged. He was staying strong in trying to refuse your advances, but seeing how much you yearned for him…it’s all he’s ever wanted and loved on this earth. Staying silent and stoic, he tries and stays strong, but your tenacity is breaking him piece by piece. God…why did you have to put on your bedroom voice…why did you have to move into him the way you were right now…why did you have to kiss him and tell him that you needed him.

“Heeseung please…please touch me. Fuck me…do everything to me.” You moaned out the last bit and that did it for him. Despite being angry with you, he could never resist your obedient nature.

He squares his face with yours, gripping onto your neck, a little more tighter than usual. “Tell me you need me.” His voice was dark and heavy, a bit husky as he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. He as still angry.

“I need you.” You whined, licking his throat with the very tip of your tongue, barely making contact. Had his grip on your throat not pinned you down to the pillow, you would have completely swallowed in skin, lacing his Adams apple with your saliva.

“Tell me you love me—“ his grip snaps tightly, knotting your airway. You slightly gasp as he jerks his grip and squeezes. You choked out the words as you looked pitifully in his eyes. “I-I….l-l-love….you-!”

You coughed up the air flowing back into your lungs as he releases his grip. He comes to a kneeling stance and releases the other rope, but does not untie the one already latched to you. He removes his cap and flings it to the floor, followed by stretching his abdominal muscles while he reaches overhead and peels his shirt off. Your free hand latches onto his belt, attempting to loosen it, only for his hands to slap it away. “No—I’m still pissed off at you.” He hisses as he undoes the buckle and zipper of his trousers. Pulling them a quarter way down, along with his briefs, he slides his pants down just enough for his lengthy cock to poke out freely, testicles included.

He leans back in, hovering on her as he extends an arm and props it next to your head, while the other lines his tip directly at your entrance. You could tell that by his nature, he wasn’t going to be as cementing as he would have been, and this been a punishable act, but not entirely loving. It was going to be a little of both.

“Fuck you…y/n.” Was all he said before leaning his head down and aggressively kissing you. Ramming himself in, he thrusts his cock inside, forcing it past un-prepped tissue and muscle as you felt yourself tearing. You help into his mouth, screaming eternally as he swallows it all. He wouldn’t let your mouth break free, in fact each time you moved your head away, his mouth remained latched on and his face trailed your every movement. You felt the flaring of his nostrils as he chalked harshly against your skin while thrusting deeper and deeper. Once he hit bottom, he strung it out rather fast, before rampaging into you at inhuman speed and momentum. You could feel it…the slight bit of blood and skin ripping apart until finally your body responds, producing a hint of moisture, which allowed him to slide in easily. The subtle curve of his length formed a C-shape, allowing the tip to easily find the soft button deep inside. Each time he thrusted in, his tip poked it, causing it to leak your orgasm little by little.

Squelching, squeezing, and slipping in and out, his movements became faster and more pungent as you kept leaking. From blood and pain comes perfection, and that’s where you were at right now.

“Ah! Ffffffuck! Oh my God—!” You gasp out, screaming and moaning as he kept fucking into you. You spew out your moans into his mouth as he restricted your breathing, by permanently enveloping your lips into a kiss that felt eternal.

Deeper and deeper, he digs in. Grunting and growling against your tongue. He adjust his position by extending both arms, propping his chest up to grant just a bit of space between you two. You gasp and moan, mouth wide open and tongue sticking out as he continued to fuck you senseless and numb. Sticking out his own tongue, he licks the flat surface of your own before swallowing your mouth into another prolonged kiss.

“Please—!!! Oh fuck! Heeseung!!” Your desperate cries only provoked him to keep going, to the point where the stimulation stayed past its welcome, and it became blisteringly painful.

“Sssstop! N-no—no more!” You begged, yearning for mercy. How much longer could this man go? How could he always have so much stamina and vigor in his body?

“Come on y/n…keep screaming…make me fucking cum!” He grunts as he swallows a kiss one final time, before plunging deep inside and filling you. So much, you felt the secretion of his fluids rimming out as his cock pulsed, his balls kissing your soft taint.

Your chest heaves, and you gasp for air as your free hair slaps onto his bicep. Your restrained wrist develops rope burn from all the friction of movement. Suddenly you felt the soft touch of his fingers, gently pinching your chin as he forced you to face him. A small glare from your eye greets the gaze of none other than—

“E..Ethan?”

He smirks maliciously. His usual psychotic stare reeks of a sinister intention as he bites down his lip, chuckling as he slurps in the excess saliva. “Miss me?”

You didn’t have the chance to put the moves on him as you did with his softer side…though you could hardly deem him soft to begin with. But compared to Ethan, anything was soft, even hard steel.

“Oh no wait—you could have missed me because….what was it that you said earlier?” He taps his fingertips along the center of your chest, spider crawling them upwards until he establishes a grip around your neck. “You hate me…RIIIIIIGHT? BABYDOLL?”

Your eyes are widen in fear as you attempt to scream but his offensive lips re-engages you to a lengthy kiss…own that contained the loudest of all your screams.

“Please! Stop! I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean it! You know I don’t hate you, Ethan—“

His dark giggle halts your pleads. “I know…and don’t worry—“ licking a teardrop from your cheek, he whispers into your ear. “By the end of this, you just might hate me. But never to fear…I’m always going to love you…and that’s all that matters right now.”

He lines himself, centered to your soft flesh. “Got a surprise for you after this…”

“W-what….what are you—?”

“Shhh….you’ll see…”

……..

“Y/n! When did you get this?” H/n takes on an exciting tone as she notices the small mark located behind your ear. You tied your hair into a high piney tail, allowing the subtle tattoo to gain some air to help the healing process. “Over the weekend…” you softly spoke. An emotionless expression graces your face as you stare at the blackboard ahead, eyes tracing the white chalked equation your professor drafted. The beating pain from between your thighs sets a reminder of words you could never use against him…ever again.

As per usual, he waits by the curb, already standing outside his car as you walk outside. A part of you happy to see him, while the other half resented him for the pleasure he bestowed you…with pain.

“Hi pretty baby, how was class?”

He cups both sides of your neck, placing a kiss on your forehead. He tilts his head to the side, admiring his mark on you. “It’s healing well. Good.” He smirks against your forehead.

You embrace him in return. You love him…and you can’t live without him. Though you’re not sure if that was by your own willingness or if he has broken you down so many times, rebuilding and training you to rely on him…just him.

You look up and admire the dark look in his eye. Yeah…you do love him.

Reaching up, you delicately tuck some of his shaggy hair away from his cheek, the rest remained pinched against his forehead from the baseball cap adorning his head. In plain sight behind his ear, was the sun. It healed completely.

“My pretty moon loves her sun?” He asked you’d you, gripping your neck subtly as he leans into kiss your lips. “Hmm…yes….”

I must always have…the sun.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #yandere imagines #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #heeseung imagine #heeseung imagines

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randomdragonfires · 1 month

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If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 4

Chapter 4 | Right Where You Left Me

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY; Slow burn, I think?

WORD COUNT | 3.4k

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

The days passed by in a quiet, green haze.

The cave where she had been made to stay shouldn’t have provided her with as much solitude as it did, given her circumstances. But with each passing moment, she found herself healing, growing stronger, and seeing as clearly as the blue sapphire that now haunted her dreams. She embraced the quietness of it all, allowing her situation to wash over her as she came to terms with it.

She had run, and she hadn’t made it. The claw marks and gashes all over her form were definite proof. In these last few days, she had been too weak to move. She felt pain with every weak movement in her limbs, ensuring her captivity for a longer period of time. But in the time that had passed as she recovered, one thing was constant.

The nightmares, and him.

Night after night, she found herself ensnared in a labyrinth of nightmares, each more vivid and terrifying than the last. In the darkness of her dreams, the snarling beast lurked, its eyes gleaming with malice as it bore down upon her with relentless fury. She would awaken with a start, her heart pounding against her chest as she gasped for air, drenched in cold sweat. The cave around her offered no solace, its walls closing in like the jaws of the predator she’d been trying to escape in her dreams.

In her tired state of mind, she thought she had imagined his warm palm on her forehead, checking for a fever. Had she imagined his mumbled Valyrian whispers too? Ēdrugon sȳrī, mandianna, she had heard, his voice as mellifluous as the calm waters of the stream outside. [Sleep well, niece.]

She had always loved listening to him speak.

At first, his presence was a comfort, his soothing words a balm to her frayed nerves. He would speak to her in hushed tones, murmuring smooth Valyrian into her ears as she struggled to comprehend the light touch of his moving lips on her skin. And when words failed, he would hold her close, his arms a sanctuary against the dreams that threatened to consume her.

Nyke paktot kesīr, he would say. Ao sagon rūsīr issa. [I’m here now… you’re with me.]

But as the nights wore on, confusion crept into her heart, clouding her thoughts like a dense fog. His touch, once a source of uninhibited, fanciful love, now stirred something unfamiliar within her, a longing and heaviness that she could not name. She would lie awake, breathing and panting in the silence of the cave, her mind awash with questions that had no answers.

Was it his gentle touch that set her soul ablaze, or was it merely the anger at being ripped away from her beloved in the middle of the night? How did it come to this? How did he end up becoming the very safety that she sought to gain by running far and away from him? She could not say, and so she clung to him like a lifeline, seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace. What else could she do?

Those were the thoughts that consumed her as she sat up, her body sore as she grunted in pain. She sat up for the first time in what she assumed could only be days, and managed to stand up too. She braced herself with a hand on the slippery cave wall, her eyes landing on the mountain of discarded bandages - covered presumably in her own blood.

She closed her eyes shut and tried to get a grip on her surroundings once more - it seemed that no matter how many times she had tried, she couldn’t come to terms with being brought to the jungle by a man who made her heart rush to wherever he touched her - no matter his intentions to hurt her family.

Are you ashamed of me, mother? For wanting him despite it all? For never stopping?

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, determined to wrestle back control from the haunting memories that threatened to take her for all she was worth. At first, all she could hear were the echoes of that harrowing encounter - the guttural snarls of the boar and the piercing screams - both his and hers - that tore through the air.

No, no, no.

But she refused to let fear hold her captive any longer. Slowly, she forced her mind to shift its focus, reaching beyond the darkness that threatened to suffocate her. Gradually, the noises of her nightmares began to fade, replaced by the gentle sounds of the forest - the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the melodious chirping of birds, and the soothing murmur of the stream of water trickling nearby. Before she knew it, the water had called to her and she walked slowly before stepping inside.

The sting of the wounds from initial contact faded and gave way to a relaxing sensation that made her skin tingle. Her shift billowed in the water, and she let herself breathe before she lifted her head up to breathe. She kept up these motions until she raised her head up to find that Aemond had come back, from wherever he’d gone. His presence, though familiar, sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through her veins, stirring something deep within her.

His expression was one that she knew all too well; there was no mistaking the lust in his eyes as they simply stared at each other, unmoving. In the calmness of her mind, it was easy to forget the weight of their shared history, to lose herself in the fantasy of a time long before the war had torn them apart. Every stolen kiss, every tender touch—it all rushed back to her in a dizzying whirlwind of emotion, threatening to consume her with its intensity.

If she were to beckon him to her right now, would he come? Should she?

The question lingered in the air, heavy with anticipation and uncertainty. But before she could find the words to speak, he was the first to look away, breaking the spell that had held them captive. With a heavy sigh, she watched as he turned away, the distance between them stretching like an unbridgeable chasm. And in that bittersweet moment, she knew that some things were better left unsaid, some desires left unfulfilled. For as much as she yearned for his touch, she also knew the pain that lay in its wake—the shattered dreams, the broken promises.

One moment she wanted to see him die, and the next, her heart would tear itself apart with how much it wanted him. She hated this, not knowing how she felt about him.

But didn’t she?

He set up a fire and sat on a log, staring into the fire like it held all the answers. What did he hope to see?

When the water went from being calming to making her feel cold, she stepped out, damp clothes sticking to her form as she walked, resembling a Goddess come to life. She took her seat next to him, hugging her knees tight as she leaned forward to take in the warmth. She breathed in the smoky smell of the fire, goosebumps rising from the heat of the fire and his gaze, now focused on her.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here, uncle?”

Winterfell was beginning to feel less like a foreign land and more like a place she could learn to love and call home.

She had taken her time familiarizing herself with every nook and corner without intruding on what she wasn’t meant to see in her capacity as a guest. If the war ends in her mother’s favor, she knows she’ll soon be Lady of this castle - no longer a guest. She had walked around the gardens, taken her time with the Godswood, gone down to visit the kitchens, and strolled on the grounds countless times. She had made friends, people she loved to speak to and smile at every day; those who made this uncertain time much more bearable as she tried to push horrid thoughts about her family at war to the back of her mind.

And him.

Finding no answers to her confusions as to why Aemond would draw first blood by killing the brother of the woman he loved, her mind raced much too fast for her convenience. She knew why, though, deep down. She simply refused to believe it.

Believing it would mean coming to terms with the fact that he had given up on her. On them.

While she chose not to trust her mind, her heart was a lot more fickle. Lord Stark had been perfectly gracious and treated her with all the gentleness worthy of a Princess and a future wife. It was a calmer, happier, and much less doubtful relationship than the one she had with Aemond. It was steady, and it was hers now.

This would all be hers. Lord Stark would rule the Keep, and she would rule him. He was hers, and he made sure she had no doubts about the same.

The thought did not make her feel as bad as it used to. This would be her way of moving on with her life and doing her part to ensure her mother’s victory. Cregan brought her a satisfaction of doing things right that Aemond did not. She never had to doubt him or herself with this man. Lighter feelings of infatuation clouded her mind as she walked to the library, her purposeful stride taking her to where her future husband sat.

The scent of old parchment hung heavy in the air as she found herself closer to where he was, mingling with the subtle aroma of beeswax polish that adorned the wooden tables and chairs scattered throughout the room. At the heart of the library stood a grand fireplace, its crackling flames casting a warm glow that bathed the room in a soft, golden light. And right next to it, he sat in a wooden chair, elbow on the armrest as he held his face up by the chin. He looked worse for wear and dejected, and it pained her to see.

What was it about her that she only ever ended up with men who chose to brood like there was no tomorrow?

She stood by the arch, leaning to the side as she debated disturbing him when he seemed like he’d much rather be left alone. As she decided to step out and read while waiting for him to come out on his own accord, she heard his heavy voice call after her.

“Princess.”

“My lord.” She couldn’t possibly leave now, so she walked in, steps as quiet as the man himself. She took to standing in front of him, her figure forming a dark silhouette as she blocked the hearth from his view. He leaned forward and took her hands in his, and she was startled by how huge they were in comparison to hers. Aemond’s hands were beautiful in an obviously otherworldly Targaryen way, with nimble, dexterous fingers; Cregan’s were unabashedly huge and well-worked yet warm, just like him.

She would learn to stop comparing them soon. It would not be long. Damned mind and heart, forever at war.

He’d had to execute a Night’s Watch deserter today - the Northerners pass their own sentences, she’d been told. “I heard you’ve had a taxing day. I thought I’d…” It seemed silly to her now to think her presence would lighten him up given the circumstances. She turned to look at the path she’d walked through, nervous at her thoughts of inadequacy as she thought of a suitable excuse to walk away without feeling embarrassed. But it seemed that there was no need.

“I killed a man today. Swung Ice heavy and clean into his neck… and now, I hold the most beautiful woman in the realm with the very same hands.” He talked as though he was speaking to himself rather than her - there was a certain absent-mindedness about him that endeared him to her - or was it his way of showing that his mind was preoccupied?

“Aye, good fortune is shining upon me.”

She smiled, never considering that her presence could bring about that level of comfort to a man who seemed much more put together than she. Her gaze was half-lidded as she looked down at him, his head leaning forward to rest his forehead upon their conjoined hands.

“What’s it like?” She regretted the words immediately after they tumbled out, knowing very well that she was throwing into his face the very subject that he probably wished to forget.

“Do you really want to know? It is a topic unsuited for a woman of your gentle nature, Princess.”

“If you want to speak, I want to listen.”

She did not miss his somber smile, making it clear to her that he appreciated her company more than he let on - for now, that was enough. “When men pledge themselves to the Night’s Watch, it is an oath for life. It is a matter of keeping your word, of honor. And when you’ve proved that your word means little and less, you’ve disrespected those you swore to protect. When this happens… as their liege lord, it is my place to punish them for it. It is not something I take pride in, but it needs to be done. One cannot put off justice for too long. Never.”

“Does it always have to be you swinging the sword?”

“Aye. ‘Tis only respectful to the man losing his life, regardless of his fallacies.”

She nodded, understanding his reasoning, and grateful that he’d seen fit to let her understand. Most would dismiss her, saying it did not fall under a lady’s purview - but he didn’t, and she appreciated that more than he knew.

For a moment, they stayed together in silence. He only got warmer with each passing moment, a feeling of comfort in the cold air that she’d grown accustomed to. “I am grateful… that it’s you,” she said. She didn’t know what she hoped to achieve by saying it, but she did anyway.

“I’m glad you’re happier, Princess. I…” She found doubt in his eyes as he debated whether or not to say the words, but she wordlessly encouraged him to go ahead by squeezing his hands in her hold. “Your brother told me that your loyalties are… divided; that you will need time to accept me. I am glad that you are.”

She tensed at the mention of her affections for Aemond, but she was quick to let it pass. She would not entertain her heart’s pull towards the man who killed her brother - she would not. Here sat a good man with the patience of a maester - she would learn to be worthy of his affections.

Almost as though he sensed her train of thought, he pulled her right back to where he was. “Princess?”

She smiled, a tired smile of resignation as she found herself grateful at the hand she’d been dealt. A time of war, where well-bred men were turned into murderers - and somehow, the Gods saw fit to give this good man to her. She was thankful, and by the Gods, she would learn to love him well.

“I’m happy too.”

“How long do you plan on keeping me here, uncle?”

She refused to look at him. Her eyes were trained on the fire, the blaze blinding her for a moment until she turned to look the other way to escape the heat-induced tears in her eyes. She felt the dampness of her form and clothes dissipate with each passing moment, and she let her throat bob as she allowed herself to calm down.

“As long as it takes.” His voice was devoid of any emotion at all, and she was struck by how hard it was for her to read him through his words - it wasn’t like this before. She used to be able to make out his emotions from the simplest of words or noises, but now it was as though she was made to face a stranger. But then again, she didn’t know this man. The Aemond she knew and loved was not battle-tested and war-worn; he was a scholarly achiever who took more pride in himself than his spoils. How could she understand him if she did not know him at all?

“And you see no other way to exact revenge? He’s…” The weight of her words overwhelmed her, and she could not bring herself to complete the sentence.. Here she was, abducted at night from where her mother thought she’d be safe, by the man whom she once upon a time believed would protect her - eventually, both Winterfell and Aemond had led to her current state.

“The war is over, uncle. The realm is slowly getting back up and the lords are working towards peace once more. Must you truly be so vengeful? Undo all the work that is being done?” The anger and tension was palpable, with her not being able to contain herself. The more she spoke, the more she knew that all of what he did was unnecessary - but then again, this entire Dance was unnecessary, was it not? “Cregan is good to me. He’s a good man and he cares about Westeros, he cares about making Aegon a worthy King despite all the poor child has been through-”

“No amount of goodness can change the fact that Cregan Stark did not pledge allegiance to the rightful king.”

“The rightful king? Grandfather declared my mother the rightful heir long before Aegon was even born -”

“Before he was born! When he was born, she lost every right to the Iron Throne. A much more sensible woman would have stepped away, but my sweet sister -”

“It was HER RIGHT!”

“It was never hers and it was certainly not yours or your bastard brothers' to claim!” With words exchanged and thrown at each other like weapons, her hands had been animatedly moving about as was her habit. But she froze at those last words. She knew very well that he had too, if the sudden hitching of his breath was any indication.

He wouldn’t apologize, that much she knew. He was much too proud and condescending about his otherworldly and striking Targaryen features to apologize to her - for she knew very well what she was, even if nobody else would openly admit to it.

A bastard.

Her mind was a mess as she looked at him, at a loss for words. The spell had shifted, they weren’t bickering as they used to any longer. In the silence, a moment suspended in time, she looked at him - really, truly, looked.

And there sat a boy. Not a battle-tested man who was now a hidden fugitive, but a boy. The boy that she’d known and loved. How much longer could they possibly hold on to grudges that neither had inflicted upon each other? The war had broken them, gotten them to drift apart - but where did it end?

Her heart ached as she beheld him, recognizing the boy she had once known beneath the bitterness and resentment that time and circumstance had piled upon him. The lines etched into his face told stories of battles fought and losses endured, but his eyes betrayed the weariness of a soul weighed down by burdens too heavy to bear alone.

He was tired.

He was depressed, hungry for revenge and angry, but in close vicinity, as her hand reached up to let her fingertips graze over his eyepatch, she could not help but think. This was her Aemond. She’d waited for him to take her away, and in a cruel twist of fate, they ended up here.

In the dim glow of twilight, her voice, a tantalizing whisper, wrapped around him like a spell. "I haven't ever seen you without your eyepatch. You never let me." Each word, a delicate lure, tugged at something deep within her; a longing that she had never quite moved on from, but scarcely dared to acknowledge in her time away from him.

If she leaned in just a bit more, she could kiss him. Would it be wrong to? Did he want her to? What was he thinking?

His hand closed around her wrist, holding her delicate touch in place over his concealed eye. With a weary exhale, he released a breath burdened with the weight of countless battles, etched into the lines of his weathered face.

How had she gone this far without him?

Before she let her fleetingly powerful feelings take over her, she closed her eyes and walked away. In the distance, a lone wolf's mournful howl pierced the tranquil stillness of the forest, making for a haunting melody.

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catcze · 23 days

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[ ###… ] GN reader ( no clothing / pronouns specified ), Royal Reader x Knight / Bodyguard Wrio who is so gone for you, secret relationship type shii, a little ooc on account that he's a knight and you're in public, jealousy (just a bit <3), reader leads when they dance, suggestive-ish ending (up to interpretation), not related to my other royal x knight work

His palms are sweating under his gloves. Gods, he hopes that he doesn't look as nervous as he feels.

"Why so serious, Wriothesley?" You coo, dancing around him with a grace and poise that, while not a surprise, takes his breath away.

Wriothesley tries to keep up, his hand clenching around yours and his jaw tense. The numerous eyes —undoubtedly every single one in this forsaken ballroom— trained on the two of you do him no favors.

"All due respect, Your Majesty," he says, teeth grit, "I don't think it's appropriate to address your bodyguard so familiarly. Some might say it's inappropriate."

You scoff, leading the two of you further into the dance, twirling and whirling around the dance floor as if it were as easy as breathing. "Inappropriate my ass," you mutter, "I don't think anyone'll muster up the guts to tell the ruler of the kingdom what is and isn't appropriate."

Wriothesley sighs, long-suffering, but you catch it— the fond quirk to his lips that he reserved only for you, and your heart soars. Even if his steps are a little unsure, a little less practiced than your own, it's lovely to see the tenseness slowly ease out of him with each second that you two spend in your own little world. Your knight had been looking so dour the entire evening, forced to remain by your side as you met with all sorts of people, no small number of them enamored with you and vying for any attention from you.

He hadn't said anything when the droves of suitors had sidled up to you, pressing kisses to the back of your hand and whispering compliments in your ear and staring at you with eyes oh-so-adoring. Wriothesley had only ever remained at your side, silent as others vied for your attention. He had been quiet, watching out for your safety and ensuring that you were fine, as a good bodyguard should.

Ah, but it hadn't escaped you: how his hand tightened on the hilt of his sheathed sword and the furrow between his brows seemed just a bit more severe. How his jaw was tense as if he were in a battlefield rather than a ballroom, and he was facing an opponent he wasn't sure he could beat.

And so— you felt that a dance was in order. Just to help him relax, of course, no other reason.

Wriothesley's palm is warm when you squeeze it. "You are insufferable, Your Majesty," is all he can say. You have to fight back a laugh.

"Don't act like you don't love it."

Another sigh, but he doesn't deny it.

The dance continues, with the two of you dancing with grace and fluidity. Undoubtedly, as it nears its end, whoever hadn't been made aware of the display in the center of the room certainly had now, and all eyes were trained on the two of you.

And you— much to Wriothesley's fluster— grow bolder with each second that this all comes to a close.

Your fingers twine with his, and your touch becomes lingering and borderline intimate. Your hands are not shy when you hold him, and you press yourself close to his chest. He hears the audience gasp, but cannot bring himself to turn away from you— not when you're so close, when your eyes shine under the chandelier and you fucking smile in a way that he thinks is only meant for his eyes.

"Eyes on me," you say quietly, as if you ever had to remind him.

You twist and you turn and you pull him along, and your bodyguard is all too happy to follow your lead. The nervousness from earlier, the envy and the longing— they all vanish like smoke under your careful touch and the squeeze of your hand in his.

He can see why you've always liked your dance lessons, growing up. It's like he's in his own little world, just him and you.

But all-too-soon, the musicians play their final note and as the music fades you feet still, and the dance ends. You're panting a little, and so is he. Neither of you move for a good, long while, staring at each other as the audience waits on bated breath, as enraptured by this tension as Wriothesley is.

You wink at him and pull away, but before he can miss your warmth, your hand finds his, hidden from prying eyes. You cast your gaze back over the crowd, and smile— and before Wriothesley knows it an applause starts up, and he can hear (even from this distance) the praises being sung by the nobles.

"I'm rather tired from all that, so I'll be taking my leave early," you announce after you catch your breath, just for them all to hear. Before the nobles can begin to protest, can beg you to stay, you turn to Wriothesley and give him a small smile. "Will you escort me back to my room, loyal bodyguard?"

And Wriothesley, heart in his throat, squeezes the had you keep out of everyone else's sight, and smiles back. A smile he reserves for only you.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #astronetwrk #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #fair warning i wrote this drunk and havent edited it. so.

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elysiumania · 1 year

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title: when the moon descends

pairing(s): jing yuan, reader

characters: jing yuan, reader, fu xuan, yanqing

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: in the midst of his daily routine, jing yuan finds solace and delight in the presence of a certain individual who never fails to brighten his morning.

As the first rays of the sun creep into his chambers like tendrils of light, Jing Yuan feels as if he's being beckoned by a siren's call to stay in the comfort of his bed. The weight of his responsibilities as the Luofu General bears down upon his chest, compelling him to evade the challenges of the forthcoming day. However, he understands that yielding to such temptation is not an option, for the affairs of the Xianzhou Luofu demands his undivided attention and his subordinates depend on him to steer them through the tumultuous waters. So, with great effort, Jing Yuan shakes off the heavy cloak of lethargy and begins his day.

Jing Yuan acknowledges that there have been instances in which he has entrusted some of his obligations to the Master Diviner, Fu Xuan. But he knows that he can't rely solely on her, for there are still other pressing matters that require his attention. Though discreetly.

It's like a delicate balance, trying to delegate tasks to others while also shouldering his own share of responsibilities. Despite the weight that comes with it, Jing Yuan knows that it's all part of being a leader—the ability to juggle multiple tasks and make the tough decisions that can impact the lives of many.

Although Jing Yuan is tempted to stay in bed all day, the sheer amount of paperwork on his office desk is urging him to begin his day. It is imperative that he completes those towering documents as soon as possible, not only to free up his leisure time, but also because they contain crucial information that requires his attention. The requests and reports from various commissions must be addressed promptly by the General.

Who knows, maybe amongst these papers lies something that will pique his interest and provide a welcome distraction from his monotonous routine.

Jing Yuan starts his day with a heavy heart, knowing that his responsibilities as a General would be demanding, but he continues to walk with a purpose.

As he traverses the bustling streets of Luofu, people pay their respects to him, bowing in reverence to his position. His subordinates, with their eyes locked on their tasks, take a moment to acknowledge their General's presence and extend their greetings. The aura around him demands respect and deference, marking him as a man of great authority and responsibility.

To Jing Yuan, his routine was as steady as the flow of the river, never faltering or swaying. The daily tasks and responsibilities that came with his position were second nature to him, like a well-oiled machine that worked without a hitch. The only thing that could disrupt the serene pattern of his life was a crisis that threatened the peace and stability of Xianzhou Luofu. In such dire circumstances, Jing Yuan would act with urgency, convening a meeting of the commission heads to ensure the safety of the people he swore to protect.

As he enters his office, Jing Yuan's eyes are immediately drawn to the pile of papers resting atop his desk, a sight that never fails to elicit a deep sigh of weariness from the Xianzhou General. It is a task that he cannot avoid, no matter how much he wishes to do so, an inescapable responsibility that weighs heavily on the shoulders of the wise and valiant leader of Luofu.

A defeated scoff escapes his lips as he trudges towards his desk, mentally preparing himself for the monotonous task that has become his daily routine.

Jing Yuan peruses through the stack of papers, carefully analyzing each document before signing off on the ones he approves of, he separates them into two piles–one for those that require immediate attention, and the other for those that need further work.

As Jing Yuan's eyes dart back and forth across the pages, a sudden knock at his door jolts him out of his concentration like a bolt of lightning. And then, he hears the sound of a voice that is as soothing and sweet as honey, a voice that always makes his heart skip a beat with anticipation. In an instant, his eyes light up like stars in the sky, sparkling with excitement at the prospect of seeing the owner of that enchanting voice.

Because it is none other than his most favorite being. (Name).

Jing Yuan grants you permission to enter, his gaze fixated on the door as he waits for your arrival with the eagerness of a child anticipating their turn on the playground. When the door creaks open, his eyes are immediately drawn to your radiant face, despite the pile of documents clutched in your arms. The General pays no attention to the paperwork, his entire focus directed solely at the sight of your smile directed towards him. To him, nothing else holds as much importance as you, his beloved partner, who never fails to bring a smile to his face and ease his worries.

"Good morning, General," you address with a courteous bow, paying respect to the esteemed leader of Luofu.

The General gazes at you with his customary smile, despite having previously expressed his desire for you to address him by name in private. Yet, you persist with your habit of addressing him with formality, even in the privacy of his office.

Jing Yuan comprehends your predicament fully. Your clandestine affair is something that must remain a secret from the rest of the Xianzhou, and given that you are under his command, he acknowledges the importance of maintaining a professional demeanor.

At first, Jing Yuan was puzzled as to why you wanted your relationship with him to be kept under wraps, but after learning that you were not yet prepared to reveal your relationship to the natives of Xianzhou Luofu, he acquiesces to your request. Your thoughts and emotions matter to him, and he respects your decision. He'll patiently wait for the day when you feel comfortable enough to share your romance with everyone.

Jing Yuan understands the gravity of the situation, and he doesn't want to put any undue pressure on you. He knows that if your relationship is made public, it will draw the attention of many, and it will become a hot topic of discussion amongst the citizens.

Being the honorable and respectable General of Xianzhou Luofu, he is aware that his actions are under constant scrutiny, and any news of his personal life could easily become tomorrow's headline.

Therefore, he doesn't want to risk ruining the comforting and peaceful company he already had with you. No.

Being with you brings Jing Yuan a sense of serenity that he seldom experiences amidst the chaos of his duties as a general. You are his sanctuary, a tranquil harbor where he can dock his restless heart. Listening to your voice and watching the subtle movements of your lips as you speak is akin to watching a mesmerizing dance. Your eyes, like two shining stars, holding his gaze in a trance, and he finds himself lost in the vastness of their beauty. In your company, he is content to forget the world and the worries that come with it.

Despite his reputation for being a quick dozer, Jing Yuan never wants to miss a moment of being with you and hearing about your day. He knows that being in your company is a rare and precious indulgence, like savoring a delectable treat that is too fleeting and too limited.

Although he's constrained by the secrecy of your relationship, Jing Yuan remains hopeful for a time when he can freely spend his days with you without fear of being exposed. He yearns for the day when he can finally engage in all the activities he's been dreaming of without any reservations. He's optimistic that this day will come, and until then, he will cherish every moment he gets to spend with you in private, relishing the comfort and safety that your company provides.

The prospect of that day fills him with immense anticipation, and he longs for it to arrive.

“Here are the reports of the Sky-Faring commission, General.” You hand over the reports to Jing Yuan, not daring to meet his intense gaze.

His amber eyes seem to penetrate through your very being, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It's as if he's peering into the depths of your soul, examining every thought and emotion. You can't help but feel uneasy under his watchful stare. After all, it's Jing Yuan, the highly respected General of the Luofu Cloud Knights, and his imposing presence is impossible to ignore. Despite being his secret lover, you still feel conscious of your every move and appearance in his presence.

“(Name), come here,” Jing Yuan utters in a gentle tone, but the authoritative edge in his voice is unmistakable.

At the sound of Jing Yuan's voice, you are inexorably pulled towards him like a moth to a flame. The gentle curve of his lips and the tender warmth in his amber gaze resonate with you, enveloping you in a comforting cocoon of affection. It's almost as though he has woven a spell that ensnares your every movement, compelling you to draw near to him with a sense of captivation and awe. His commanding presence is both palpable and irresistible, and you find yourself drawn to him without any conscious effort.

You glide over to Jing Yuan, and it prompts him to swivel his body to face you. He's perched on his chair, and as he gazes up at you, you catch his amber eyes with your own.

Upon locking gazes with you, Jing Yuan experiences a surge of emotions that swiftly courses through his being, evoking the rapid flutters of a hummingbird's wings in his chest. He finds himself captivated by the sight of you, who exudes an aura of luminosity and grace that enraptured his senses. Even in the absence of the sun's warmth, you shine like a celestial body, illuminating his world and imbuing it with a sense of wonder and admiration. As he continues to gaze upon you, his affection for you only grows stronger, as he is powerless to resist the alluring force of your magnetic pull.

In his subliminal state, he extends his hand to grasp your hands in his sizable ones, sensing the heat emanating from your palms, and he relishes the sensation of it.

In this very moment, as Jing Yuan finally takes hold of your hands, he begins to caress your knuckles with his thumbs in the most gentle and soothing way possible, treating them as if they were a delicate and fragile crystal that he is afraid of damaging. As he continues to rub, his fingers slide effortlessly in between yours, elegantly interlacing and entwining them together. The unexpected tenderness of his touch causes a warm blush to spread across your cheeks, taking you by surprise, yet you remain motionless, as if tamed by his presence. Although he can feel the faint tremble in your hands, he is grateful that you do not pull away, and he continues to hold onto you, cherishing this rare moment of intimacy.

As he tried to contain his amusement, a small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped from Jing Yuan's lips, betraying his attempt at composure.

Jing Yuan couldn't resist the urge to tease you a bit and asked, "Are you feeling nervous?"

He felt a subtle tremor in your hand, signaling him that you were indeed feeling apprehensive. The sight of your sudden reaction elicited a sense of amusement from within him, causing the corners of his lips to stretch into a small, yet visible grin. However, his amusement was short-lived, for he soon sensed that you had regained your composure and settled into a state of calmness.

"General, I suggest you should release me. It would not be ideal for us to be seen in this manner," you calmly remind, conscious of the potential consequences of being caught in such a compromising position. However, you are unable to deceive the sharp eyes of Jing Yuan, who can sense the underlying emotions beneath your composed exterior.

"Let them see it." You became aware of Jing Yuan's remark, and let out a soft gasp at his boldness.

Even though he had previously expressed his intention to honor your wishes and wait for you, he spoke truthfully at that moment. It was of no consequence to him if anyone were to witness your intimate exchange, as he desired for everyone to acknowledge that you were solely his.

"General—"

"Jing Yuan," he interjects, longing for the sound of his name on your lips.

"But we're—" again with him interrupting you.

"I have but one desire, (Name), and that is to hear you speak my name," Jing Yuan implores with a subtle plea, his grip on your hands tight as he urges you to comply with his request. His eyes seem to gleam under the sun's rays, almost as if they were hypnotic, coaxing you to surrender to him.

Your lips tighten into a firm line, unwilling to yield to Jing Yuan's indolence yet determined nature. It's one of his many qualities that leaves you with no choice but to relent and give in to his wishes.

Therefore, you relinquish, your shoulders dropping in resignation as you release a defeated sigh.

"Jing Yuan," you utter, finally giving in to his request. He couldn't hide his delight upon hearing his name from your lips. Even if it may seem insignificant to others, it means the world to the General, enough to brighten his mood.

"Very well," he replies with a subtle nod. "I earnestly request that you continue to address me by my name when we are in private. It's not desirable for me to feel a sense of separation from you due to our current circumstances. Do you comprehend my sentiments, (Name)?"

A smile graces Jing Yuan's face as his gaze lingers on you, and you take a brief moment to observe him before answering.

"I understand, but we must stay vigilant. There are prying eyes everywhere you go. I do not wish to bring any more difficulties upon you," you admit bashfully, averting your eyes from his.

Jing Yuan squeezes his grip on you and speaks in a soft tone, "Look at me, (Name)." He waits until he has your full attention. "I want you to understand that if it concerns you, it is not a burden to me. You hold great significance in my life, and I assure you that any inconvenience you may cause is of no concern. In fact, I would be delighted if you require my assistance.”

Jing Yuan's voice is gentle, reminiscent of the gentle caress of fluffy clouds on a bright summer day. He doesn't spell it out, but you can tell he's trying to assuage your worries in his own unique way. His words were already indicative of his intent, and although you have conflicting emotions, they dissipated when Jing Yuan delivered his heartfelt speech.

Your countenance brightens up as you acknowledge Jing Yuan's words with a smile that reaches your eyes, revealing the depth of your gratitude towards him. The General doesn't miss the tenderness in your look, and it stirs a fluttering sensation in his chest that he can't ignore. In response, he mirrors your expression of fondness, beaming with an equal measure of warmth and affection.

Jing Yuan yields to the irresistible impulse to draw you closer, settling you onto his lap, which catches you by surprise and causes your heart to race uncontrollably.

He envelops you in his embrace, his arms delicately encircling your waist, and he presses his nose into your hair, savoring the captivating fragrance of your shampoo that has grown to be his familiar fixation. It is a scent that he will always connect with you, a fragrance that will remain etched in his memory.

"Jing Yuan," you stutter, aware of the blush that suffuses your cheeks from both embarrassment and your close proximity. "Your actions could potentially expose us to being caught by someone."

Jing Yuan is acutely aware of your embarrassment, even without visually confirming it. Despite having shared moments of intimacy in private settings, you still appear unaccustomed to his unpredictable yet affectionate gestures. He finds it perplexing that you are still taken aback, given the likelihood of more instances like this in the future.

He contemplates whether he should demonstrate more of these affectionate actions in the hopes that you'll become more accustomed to such intimacy.

"I have already made myself clear, have I not? Let them see," he declares, as he maintains his embrace and presses his face onto your head. His unwavering action conveys his steadfast resolve to keep you close, unmindful of any prying eyes or onlookers that may come.

“You’re being overbearing, Jing Yuan.” You deliver the comment with a hint of amusement, making him laugh knowing full well that he can sense your eyes rolling in exasperation.

You feel his arms tightening around you, his hold on you growing firmer. "Worry not, no one may enter my office without my permission," he reassures you, though he quickly follows up with a caveat. "With the exception of my retainer, Yanqing, I'm afraid."

You let out a sigh and attempt to shift your position to release yourself from Jing Yuan's hold. Unfortunately, his embrace on you only grows stronger, making it impossible for you to escape his grasp.

Your tone is assertive as you convey your concerns to Jing Yuan. "I suggest it would be appropriate if you release me now. Yanqing could walk in and catch us in this position. Furthermore, Lady Yukong has a meeting scheduled shortly, and my attendance is necessary," you state, underscoring the importance of the matter.

Jing Yuan contemplates whether he should accede to your request or not. However, he comprehends that it would not be prudent to cause you any vexation on account of his own indulgence, especially given that you both have obligations to attend to. Despite the limited time you share, he remains convinced that there will be future opportunities where he can have you as he desires.

"Would it be permissible to remain in this embrace for a mere five minutes?" Jing Yuan inquires, his tone low but exhibiting a gentle and almost imploring quality.

When Jing Yuan receives a nod of your head in response, a smile spreads across his face. He holds onto you tightly, savoring every moment he has left to spend with you. He takes comfort in knowing that you will see each other again later.

As the minutes ticked by, Jing Yuan adhered to his promise and reluctantly let go of you, the loss of your warmth and proximity leaving an ache in his chest. You stood up swiftly, smoothing out your attire and trying to regain your composure. Jing Yuan watched you intently, taking in every detail of your movement and memorizing the way you looked in that moment. As you turned to face him, he remained silent, his gaze fixed solely on you.

With a sense of remorse and a weight on your heart, you implore Jing Yuan. "I know our situation is hard, but please bear it for a little longer."

You are aware that he has no reservations about disclosing your relationship, but you are hesitant due to the potential negative ramifications that it may bring. The prospect of being scrutinized and shunned by others because of your association with the General preoccupies your thoughts and causes you to be ill-equipped to handle the aftermath of a public announcement.

Jing Yuan is not oblivious to your troubled expression as he observes you closely. The way you look down at your feet and clench your fists, he already knows what is weighing on your mind. It is the same expression you wear whenever your secretive relationship becomes a topic of discussion. He truly understands your worries and concerns. Therefore, the only recourse Jing Yuan can offer to alleviate your distress is to offer comfort and assurance. He assures you that he does not object to waiting until such time that you are ready to divulge your relationship to the public, and that he will be there for you every step of the way. In his own inimitable way, he consoles you until your concerns are dispelled. Because that is the only thing he can do for you at this moment.

"(Name)." Jing Yuan once again calls your name and it didn't take him a second to gain your heed. "Will you lean in?"

You were confused by Jing Yuan's sudden request, but without hesitation, you leaned in towards him. Sensing his hand on the back of your head, you felt a rush of emotions. As he pulled you closer to him, your eyes widened in anticipation of what was to come. Jing Yuan's lips landed gently on top of your head, eliciting a tingly sensation that traveled down to your fingertips and stirred butterflies in your stomach. The contact of his lips on your head lingered for a moment briefly before he drew away. His lips curved into a smile as he gazed at your blushing cheeks and slightly parted lips as you looked into each other’s eyes.

Jing Yuan was greatly amused by your reaction, which was one of the many reasons why he took pleasure in teasing you. Your reactions were absolutely priceless, and he simply couldn't get enough of them. It only served to fuel his desire to tease you even further whenever he saw you react in such a way.

Indeed, he is satisfied.

"It would be best if you left now," he suggested, his hand tenderly resting on your head as he gave it a reassuring pat. "I understand that you have other pressing matters to attend to, and I wouldn't want to keep you from them," he explained, his eyes reflecting a blend of melancholy and solicitude. "However, please know that should you ever require any assistance, my door will always be open to you," he offered, his tone composed and reassuring.

As you blink, you snap out of your stupor and quickly straighten your posture. The blush on your face remains, a lingering effect of the surprise that Jing Yuan had given you. It was astounding how effortlessly he could catch you off guard, leaving you constantly on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

He is indeed a mysterious man.

"Thank you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your kind offer," you reply, clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. "I shall keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave."

You cast a quick glance at Jing Yuan, and your eyes catch him gazing at you with such tenderness that it leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. It was a look that he always gave you, even from afar, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

Jing Yuan observes you quietly as you collect yourself to leave his room. He feels a sense of disappointment knowing that you will soon be gone and that he will be left alone in his spacious office. However, he understands the urgency of your matters with the Sky-Faring commission and would not want to be the cause of your tardiness to a meeting that is soon to be held. It would be unwise of him to delay you, even if he wished otherwise.

As Jing Yuan is lost in thought, he suddenly feels a cool sensation on his forehead, interrupting his musings. He soon realizes that you had surprised him with a kiss on the forehead without any prior warning, making his body stiffen unwillingly.

Jing Yuan was astonished yet pleased by your unexpected display of affection. He had not anticipated such a gesture, but it was one that he valued greatly. His body soon relaxes and the warmth in his heart swelled as he closed his eyes, basking in the moment and enjoying the sensation of your touch.

It was a moment that he wished could last indefinitely.

However, the moment of intimacy between you and Jing Yuan came to an end as you pulled away from him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment as the warmth and tenderness he felt instantly dissipated. Jing Yuan adjusted his posture, backing away slightly as he looked at you. He was a bit surprised by the intensity of your gaze, which conveyed a deep admiration and affection that was reserved only for him. This was a look that had the power to make him feel weak, but he always put up a tough front and never revealed his vulnerability to you.

If only you are aware how much you affected him this much. Will you still be able to grant him more, or minimize because of embarrassment? He does not know. But he hopes it will be the former.

"I will take my leave now as I may be late," you say in a hurry. Jing Yuan simply waves a dismissive hand, giving you permission to attend to your duties.

"Good luck with your work," he said with a smile, and you nodded in response.

As you turn to leave Jing Yuan's office, you pause and take one last glance at Jing Yuan, who's comfortably sitting in his seat as he watches you.

You lick your lips and convey the words that you wanted to say. "I'll see you later."

With a final smile, you exit the room and make your way towards the Helm Master who was waiting for you.

Once you are no longer in his office, Jing Yuan couldn't help but smile as he reflected on the brief encounter you had just shared. The sensation of your lips on his forehead is still palpable, like a vivid painting on a canvas. The warmth of your touch lingers, leaving an indelible impression on his skin.

The encounter bestowed upon Jing Yuan gives him a profound sense of contentment and exhilaration, stirring within him a delightful mixture of emotions. The satisfaction he derived from that fleeting interaction proved to be truly intoxicating, leaving him with an insatiable yearning for more. His craving persisted, unquenched by the mere taste of that moment.

Jing Yuan redirects his focus to the documents before him, delicately resting his chin on his palm. The faint smirk that creeps his face persists as though it was a lasting imprint on his features.

How can he not be pleased when his morning was a very welcoming indulgence he had? It indeed gave him the satisfaction that he needs.

If you consistently become the first person he encounters and shower him with your affection every time the moon descends, his mornings will no longer be laden with dreariness as they were originally destined to be.

Jing Yuan will perpetually welcome anything and everything as long as it involves you.

#jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x you #jing yuan fanfic

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widowmura · 2 days

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My speedpaint contribution to #mermay with some Bloodweave. Featuring merman Gale and Deep Sea Leviathan Astarion. Each of these pics took under or just over an hour to do. I'll probably redesign / redraw Deep Sea Leviathan at a later stage. Some lore to go along with them: When Gale boards the small vessel barely enough to fit a crew of six, Mystra reassures him that mermaids are not to be feared. He's read of them of course. Alluring, feminine; specimens of beauty and wonder. But dangerous. Enough that should you see the shimmer of their scales in the water, you should avert your eyes immediately and to not let them fool you into thinking their scales are in fact precious gems, just barely out of reach. That when their siren song calls, you ensure your ears are stuffed with enough cotton and you keep away from the drink to retain your sanity.

So when he finds himself and their glorified canoe out in the stretch of the deep sea, fading into an endless nothingness, his mind can't help but wander. What else is hiding in the depths? Mystra doesn't let him find out. When something unfathomably large and dark stirs a wake large enough to rock their ship, the woman shoves him overboard. It turns out the fairytales were exactly that; tales, but the reality is so much worse.

Cast into the depths as a sacrifice for safe passage, Gale cannot help but flounder. He'd never learned to swim despite living in a place called Waterdeep. The irony isn't lost on him as he sinks, down and down like a stone, straining into an eternity of blue as his lungs fill with water and dread. But he isn't empty-handed. The artefact he'd stolen from that gods forsaken cursed fortress was still with him, and with no other choice except to reach for desperation, he plunges it within his chest, hoping, praying for a lifeline.

Aka mermaids are propaganda tales used by sailors. Mermaids are in fact hideously large monstrous creatures, leviathans in their own right that trade safe voyage for flesh whose existence is kept quiet. Gale ends up using the orb and manages to somehow turn himself into a false merman to escape the pursuit of such a creature, who instead of choosing to consume him, keeps him as an oddity of his own. The fact they both glow amuses the monster. Astarion lures ships and takes sacrifices to his master, The Great Old One of the Depths - Cazador. Meeting Gale, which at first turns out to just be a bigger fish tormenting a smaller fish story turns into something more when Gale helps to undo the pact keeping Astarion bound to the Old God. Astarion's design is based off a deep sea angler fish for the luring / lives in the dark aspect and a Dunkleosteus which is a prehistoric fish with boney plating for making him seem ancient / old in appearance.

#bloodweave #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #mermay #mermay 2024 #speedpaint

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mr-president · 1 year

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I think one of my favorite Funtermina things is how it uses characters as narrative foils, specifically in how those characters interact with each other and everyone else.

Karin and Daan’s is the most discussed as it’s probably the most apparent within the text: their volatile opposing viewpoints on life via their upbringings (despite being extremely similar otherwise). When Karin and Daan interact, it’s like a person arguing with themself. They clash like ammonia and bleach, unable to reconcile how similar they are (haha cleaning chemical analogy) yet toxic in their association.

Marina and Levi represent the different realities of Prehevil, what with Marina’s privileged upbringing versus Levi’s absolute shitshow of an existence. And yet, they get along incredibly well and form a cadence with one another because through each other, they can reconcile their upbringings in Prehevil. Levi is the Prehevil Marina tried to escape—Marina is the Prehevil Levi hoped to return to.

Marcoh and Olivia are interesting because—and I will argue this to the death—their relationship is wholly as siblings. And they’re also deeply connected by their relationships with their sisters, specifically how those sisters formulated and defined how they see themselves. Marcoh has done nothing but live to protect his sister, while Olivia has forever lived in her sister’s shadow. Their identities revolve completely around their sisters, and this also colors their relationship with each other as siblings.

I wish it was explored more, but I think there’s a level of disenfranchisement when Marcoh fervently tries to protect Olivia the same way he protected his younger sister (edit: rb for amendment). He clearly sees her in that role, and Olivia’s already got guilt written into her about her disability making her a “charity case.” I say this also because of their different opinions on guns, power, and death: Marcoh has no bloodlust and seems exhausted when he has to hurt others, while Olivia becomes almost jubilant when she receives a gun. And those reactions to enacting violence are directly informed by their relationships with their sisters: a begrudging responsibility vs empowerment.

My favorite is probably Abella and O’saa as foils. As characters they’re probably my favorites, and their foil makes it even better.

Abella easily connects with everyone around her, ensuring that they’re all getting along (or not killing each other) and she tries desperately to help everyone, even at her own detriment. She cares, so much, even too much.

O’saa on the other hand, is the exact opposite. He actively chooses to connect with everyone as little as possible, to the point where you can kill someone in front of him and he won’t give a shit. This is, obviously, to his detriment in terms of his goal towards enlightenment. He cares too little, even if at all.

They perfectly represent the dichotomy between altruism vs selfishness, the mundane vs the macro, democracy vs individualism. Fundamentally, both Abella and O’saa get shit done, and what makes them so compelling as foils is how similar the results of their different processes are.

Both of them are the only two that are capable of saving everyone. Abella does so by interacting with many of the other contestants, while O’saa does this by ignoring everyone and just occam’s razoring that shit. They both get shit done and to the greatest net success, but in both cases, because they operate on extremes, it’s to the detriment of themselves. The game shows this literally because, well, they sacrifice themselves to Logic for the greater good, but the game also implies this detriment via their moonscorches.

Chaugnaur represents how others have reduced Abella to a sexual object for their pleasure or a mindless brute for labor. It is a physical manifestation of how interacting and connecting with others can be to one’s detriment because Abella often cannot control how people see and define her. Mastermind, on the other hand, is O’saa’s brain swelling and overtaking everything else on his head to the point where he is blind (save for the eye) and mute, only able to speak in mumbles. Mastermind is how O’saa values logic, knowledge, comprehension over anything else, becoming blind to other viewpoints save for his own. Additionally, it’s unable to communicate or connect with anyone else, only able to ruminate get never share its thoughts.

Abella is one of the first to Moonscorch; O’saa is one of the last. I love them as foils because even though they’re the most different in terms of anything, they don’t hinder one another at much all. They’re just kinda chill. And this makes sense because their dichotomies aren’t volatile like Karin and Daan’s, nor complementary like the others. Rather, they operate in balance—you cannot be too altruistic without some selfishness. To help everyone and to achieve enlightenment, you must consider both the mundane and the greater picture. Society operates on a shared democracy and on empowering individuals.

Still, the fact that even operating on the extremes has the greatest positive effect (in terms of utilitarianism) really says smth abt whether these values even matter. But I’d argue that they do matter, cause it’s that question of whether it’s worth it to suffer or even sacrifice for the greater good.

As a whole, each foil represents a central theme/motif of Fear & Hunger: internal vs external locus of control (Karin and Daan), environment dictating identity (Marina and Levi), relationships and their impact (Marcoh and Olivia), and the thematic shitshow that is Abella and O’saa.

Tldr; the game is about some girls and their boy best friends.

#fear and hunger termina #i could be stretching all of this and completely delusional but i wanted to do some thematic analysis on funger since i haven’t seen much :#feel free to add on #also for the record i don’t ship abella and o’saa mainly bc abella is a hunky lesbian and o’saa is highkey aro ace to me #they’re like the ‘can u text this for me? oh don’t be too mean tho’ besties if thag makes sense #mr president’s state of the union address #i’ll draw soon trust u gotta hear mh deranged analyses first tho

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stressfulsloth · 11 months

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Thinking about Harry and all the animal parallels that follow him through the narrative. It's true that these animal parallels reflect the way that the brutality of individualist moralism strips him of humanity as someone who has fallen through the safety nets, and his agonised shout of 'I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore' can be interpreted as a direct admission of the RCM's dehumanisation of him as a disabled addict who is no longer as 'useful' as he once was. Gottlieb even directly tells him '[he] lost [his] human visage a while back.' Jean calls him 'the most dangerous animal of them all'. The rabid dog that needs to be put down, the black dog (also a common metaphor for chronic mental illness!) that Mollins shoots as it licks its wounds; the scared, hurt, frightened animal lashing out, chewing off it's own leg to escape the trap that it's caught in. The wild dog is all they can see.

But then there is a flipside to these parallels too; a kindness, a gentleness, almost a freedom in Harry’s animal parallels. He's strong like a 'goddamn ox,' like a bear ('I had to kill the bear to become the bear'). He's a harrier hawk, a name given to ensure his safety, raised up to the level of the aerostatics looking down over Revachol, 'soar[ing] on the wings of [his] spirit hawk.' He's a leopard ('its impossible to know where you end and the leopard begins'), discovering or rediscovering a love of softness and sensuality that he'd not known before via the leopard print leotard that 'speaks to the animal inside [him]' and touches on his relationship with his gender ('Yes, this is the type of animal I want to be.').

He's a 'seagull', a bird that will do 'whatever it takes to survive,' a 'bird of paradise' that tells a story of 'endurance- and adaptation' ('You! You and the seagull are just alike!'). He survives, despite everything, despite the grimness of the world around him. He endures. Even the sea monster comparison is oddly kind ('You've become a sea monster -- giant, hidden and... strangely tender at heart'). Even as a monster, he's still gentle; he still has so much love for this world that has wrung every last bit out of him. As if his tenderness is such an inherent part of him that no matter what monstrous face he wears, no matter what creature is there in his shadow, he cannot help but have some trace of it at his core. His tender soul 'quivering like jello.' The pain he feels is raw and animal but so is the love he feels. So is the hope and the fear and the wonder.

#every time i read the leopard scene i go feral over it i love him #guhhhh words are difficult and this is a mush but i hope you understand what I'm trying to say #disco elysium #harry du bois #long post #again apologies if this doesn't make sense #also the sea monster line is from him trying on the blue lens glasses lmao it sounds much deeper than that but i still love it so much #tender as in his still-aching heart and the raw wound of his memory loss but also tender in his love for the world #calling himself a monster but even still he can't erase the tender parts of himself #DE rambling

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soulessjourney · 4 months

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One Last Time

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: Just what truly happened during the battle with Ketheric Thorm?

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of violence, OOC Astarion, injuries, talk of mental health, some fluff, Tav is on her journey of having a redeption arc, Confessions, some fluff, Heavy Act 2 Spoilers

A/N: Buckle up kiddies this is gonna be a long one. I did add a bit of my own spin on things in some parts just to help fill in the aspects of the fighting to make it more dramatic.

Ketheric Thorm, a man who defied death and wasn't meant to survive. He bore the responsibility for unleashing the Shadow Curse and cowardly sought refuge in Moonrise Towers, at least that's how you perceived it. Meeting him as a true soul set the stage for your downfall. Upon your arrival, your Guardian, with a hint of disgust in her voice, made you acutely aware of his identity. Being in proximity to the absolute felt like a dream, yet an unsettling feeling lingered. You sensed manipulation, as if you were a mere pawn in his game. Moonrise, though familiar, seemed to beckon you, and the guards appeared well-informed about your identity. Anger and fury welled up within you, resentful of the power he wielded. A part of you contended that this power was rightfully yours, and an irresistible urge to claim it consumed you.

As your eyes follow Thorm out of the room, Astarion clears his throat beside you. "Well, that was eventful. Say, how are we supposed to kill someone who can't be killed? Seems like a setup if you ask me." He shrugs, prompting a scoff from Shadowheart.

"You know, Astarion, I would like to go one day without your comments," she grumbles, eliciting a pout from Astarion and a breathless laugh from you. After about a month or two of being together, your group had grown close, opening up in various ways. Despite only being together for a short time, they appointed you the leader, leading to disagreements, especially with more qualified individuals like Gale.

The banter between Astarion and Shadowheart continues as you walk out of the tower. "I'm just saying, Darling, there's no way in the nine hells we can kill someone who simply cannot be killed. That's like asking a rock to walk," he shrugs, shooting a smug smile toward Shadowheart.

Just as she opens her mouth to respond, you cut them off. "That's enough, you two. The entire Shadow Land can hear your bickering," you grumble as Lae’zel nods in agreement. "Besides, we're almost to the Mausoleum, and it's rude to disturb the dead," you say, suppressing a smile at the pure annoyance on Shadowheart's face. It's rare for Astarion to get the last word, and when he does, he becomes the cockiest man alive.

Falling behind your group, Gale nudges you and raises a questioning brow. It's unusual for you to lag behind, considering your usual determination to lead and be the first to jump into action to protect your party. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention.

Shrugging, you fiddle with your armor before letting out a sigh. "I just don't have the best feeling. It's like something is about to happen, and we won't be able to avoid it. I'm worried that whatever we're about to face, there's no coming back from it." Odd feelings weren't unfamiliar to you; after all, you constantly battled the urge to commit daily murders. However, today's unease had you more concerned than usual.

Gale nods, letting out a thoughtful hum as he considers his response. "It's not because I plan on blowing myself up, is it?" he asks, a laugh escaping his lips. His expression turns serious when he notices your lack of laughter. "Tav, everything will be okay. We have each other, and we're all equally dedicated to ensuring our survival. Nothing will happen, and I especially know that Astarion won't let anything happen to you," he says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Astarion shared something, although you weren't sure what it was beyond the occasional intimacy. Both of you were highly protective of each other, yet he dismissed it as shameless flirting. You desired something more with Astarion, but you knew he was apprehensive. He was new to the affection you showed him and unfamiliar with being cared for in a way he had never experienced before.

Just as you were about to respond, a figure emerges from the shadows just before you reach the Mausoleum. Astarion groans at the sight of Raphael gliding towards your group, his usual mischievous smile spread widely across his lips. "Well, well, isn't it my favorite group of adventurers?" he says, stopping just before your group. You step forward, noting how Astarion positions himself behind you, rolling his shoulders forward almost as if to appear larger—a simple act of protection that's hard to resist smiling at. "I know it's odd for a Devil to ask for a favor, but there's something I'll grant you in return," Raphael says, locking his eyes on yours.

Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms. "Just spit it out already; we don't have time for your riddles," he deadpans, shifting closer to you, ready to throw you behind him if Raphael makes a move to harm you.

"Now, now, this isn't the time to lack patience," Raphael says, standing taller. "I need you to take care of a problem, a competition, we can call it. In return, I'll give your little vampire friend answers about the scars on his back—a translation that I know you both are just dying to know." He grins, watching your eyes widen before turning to look back at Astarion. "His name is Yurgir, and dealing with him will do a lot of good. He's breaking his contract and needs to be sent right back to where he came from as a...lesson." He says, looking over your group. "Once you find him, take care of him. I will know, and it will determine if you get the answers you so desperately seek." Just as he finishes his sentence, he disappears right in front of you.

Exhaustion seeps through you as your group stays quiet. "I guess we have some work to do," you mumble, walking forward into the Mausoleum. The others hesitate as they watch you, concerned about your sudden lack of energy. Usually, you would be up for anything, even if it meant dealing with a devil. As you walk into the building, the group exchanges worried glances before following you inside.

---

The confrontation with Yurgir turned out to be surprisingly easy, given his already paranoid state. With his contract entwined in a song, convincing him to turn against his allies, including Nessa, a displacer beast you empathized with, proved to be a straightforward task. In your mind, she didn't deserve to meet her end in the manner she did. Subsequently, you seamlessly entered his paranoid thoughts, persuading him to take his own life. Lae’zel and Astarion, usually at odds, expressed their shared disappointment at the lack of an actual fight to entertain them.

Amidst the discontent, your primary concern shifted to the current state of your group. Shadowheart, driven by determination, sought to complete Shar’s Gauntlet, a symbolic act to ascend and prove her loyalty to her goddess. While you couldn't help but worry about your friend, you understood her desire to seize this opportunity. As she faced the three challenges, ultimately finding the Spear of Night, you sensed a subtle shift in her demeanor.

Standing before the Nightsong, a woman bound to this realm with no apparent escape, you noticed a spark of questioning in Shadowheart's eyes, despite her determination. Confronting Thorm, you learned that releasing the Nightsong was the only way to weaken him and break his hold on immortality. The moment of decision arrived when Shadowheart, succumbing to her doubts, threw the spear over the edge, the mentioning of the forest and the wolves.

A surge of indescribable emotion coursed through you—perhaps pride or worry. It wasn't until Dame Aylin stepped forward, kneeling before Shadowheart, that the situation took a new turn. "Lay a hand of friendship upon me, and break my chains," she gently requested, her eyes meeting Shadowheart's before focusing on you. "Only when I am free can I aid you in taking down Ketheric Thorm." Shadowheart hesitated, glancing back at you for guidance.

Slowly nodding, she reached forward, resting a hand on Dame Aylin, breaking her chains once and for all. A portal opened behind you, and just before you could turn away, your eyes locked on Dame Aylin. Her armor began to form on her skin, and wings emitting a heavenly glow spread out behind her. Despite the look of recognition, all you received was a nod before she took off, leaving your group alone.

---

Now that Dame Aylin was free, things seemed to have accelerated much faster than anticipated. Drained and utterly tired, all you desired was to rest. Your head buzzed, and your ears rang, yet there you stood before Moonrise Towers, gearing up to face Ketheric Thorm. The urgency escalated with Dame Aylin's freedom, and a dark part of you wished she hadn't been released just so you could have some time to recuperate.

As you looked up at the towers, your body tensed when someone moved to stand beside you. A sense of relief washed over you as you saw Astarion. Smiling down, he shifted on his feet. "We're going to win, Darling. You have all of us ready to fight at your side. Don't overthink it," he said, shaking his head to silence any protests. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours," he added with a teasing grin. "But before we go in, can we talk? It's rather important, just in case we do meet our doom in there," he said softly.

Giving a half-hearted smile, you felt the exhaustion seeping out of you. Astarion took your hand, leading you aside as the rest of the group looked at you in question before starting their own conversations, providing you and Astarion with some privacy. "Are you alright?" you asked, scanning him for any injuries he might have sustained.

His expression changed, as if he were at war with himself. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just... feel awful about something," he admitted. Confusion crept over you as you tried to recall any recent events that might explain his unease. It wasn't until you saw him shift nervously that you gave him a reassuring smile.

He continued, revealing a plan to seduce you, manipulate your feelings, and use you to defeat Cazador. The revelation left a bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth. You shifted, your posture rigid, waiting for an explanation. The truth unfolded—his plan fell apart because he couldn't resist falling for you.

His confession left you grappling with feelings of betrayal and hurt. "Were you even attracted to me? Or was that all a lie as well?" you asked, unable to contain the pain in your voice. His flinch confirmed the discomfort he felt.

Astarion, now uncomfortable and terrified, admitted, "Of course I was attracted to you. Look at you, for goodness’ sake! You’re a vision and so much more than that." He hesitated, expressing uncertainty about his feelings. "I just… I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I want."

You shared your care for him, admitting your deep feelings. His face lit up at your words, and a soft 'really?' hung in the air. Without thinking, you moved forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle but secure hug. It felt like a silent promise of your genuine care. As he reciprocated the embrace, you sensed a change in him.

Astarion, being himself, smiled and cleared his throat. "You... You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?" he remarked, his eyes locking with yours, revealing hidden emotions. He let out a nervous laugh, pulling your attention back to him. "Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing or what comes next," he confessed, holding out his hand.

You stared at his hand before placing your palm on top of his. His cool skin covered yours as he drew you closer. "But I know that this? This is nice," he whispered.

There you stood, face flushed, realizing that, in a twisted way, Astarion truly loved you, and you loved him more than anything. Happiness mingled with worry, as he chose this moment to confess, fearing the possibility of not making it out alive. Yet, living in the now, you vowed to fight alongside him, grateful for the truth he finally shared.

Wyll cleared his throat, redirecting your attention to the group standing there, beaming at the two of you. It was evident they had overheard everything, and judging by the look on Shadowheart’s face, a secretly hopeless romantic, they had heard it all.

"Okay, you lovebirds, we have a Thorm on our side that we need to kill," Wyll declared, letting out a loud laugh at his own joke. However, the laughter died down when no one else joined in. An awkward silence hung in the air until you snorted, breaking the tension and sending the rest of your group into fits of laughter.

Even in the face of potential doom, moments like these made you grateful to have them by your side. Wyll looked around, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Oh, I see how it is. It’s only funny when you put me down," he grumbled, prompting a genuine laugh from Lae’zel. The sound, rare and cherished, resonated among your group, appreciating the unexpected moment of joy.

---

The echoes of your laughter felt like a distant memory as you stood before Ketheric Thorm, anger seeping through you at the sight of him. The yells of your party echoed behind you as they fought against his soldiers, while he remained solely focused on you. Despite being mortal, he carried himself with immense confidence, as if convinced you could never truly defeat him. His smug demeanor fueled your desire to rip his head from his shoulders, yet something kept you rooted in the spot where you stood. Your attention shifted when something hot grazed your arm, prompting a pained yell as you gripped the wounded area. Thorm looked down at you with a smug smile, his eyes darkening.

"Who knew that you would come crawling to my doorstep? Why have you returned? Do you miss the throne in which you once sat?" he taunted, his words striking you like poison.

Although you had been here before, the realization that you used to occupy the throne he now warmed was a revelation. "I’m here to kill you," you declared, your hand warming with the blood seeping from your wounded arm. "I’m here to witness your downfall, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it," you spat, dropping your hand from your arm as you reached for the staff positioned on your back.

Thorm responded with an amused laugh, scanning the surroundings. "You? Kill me? I suppose you didn’t learn your lesson from the last time we had a falling out. Your father would be laughing at you now, seeing his perfect child turning her back on him," he seethed. Your eyes widened slightly before you shook your head. He was trying to toy with you, attempting to make you drop your guard, but you refused to let that happen.

You felt the fire spread through your palms before it traveled across the room toward Thorm. The lack of any reaction from him made you second-guess whether he was truly mortal now. Ascending the stairs, you stood face-to-face with Thorm, narrowing your eyes into a challenging glare. Swinging your weapon, the sound of steel clashing filled the air.

"You have the opportunity to surrender, Thorm. You don’t have to live like this," you declared, your voice stern as you pushed your weight into your weapon.

Thorm laughed and glared down at you. "You’ve become so weak. Your father has done nothing but brag about you, and yet here you are, offering me mercy. You are no daughter of his; no wonder you were cast out," he seethed, lifting his foot to kick you back. Tumbling, your weapon clashed against the ground beside you, and your eyes filled with fire. The urge to rip him apart from the inside out consumed you, and the taste of blood filled your mouth as your body became rigid.

The staff next to you vanished as a long sword with intricate designs slowly appeared in your hand. Standing slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his once more, and a smile settled onto his face. "There she is—the killer your father raised you to be," he said, rolling his shoulders back. A snarl escaped you as you raced forward, only to be thrown back as Dame Aylin slammed down into the area next to you and Thorm.

"Ketheric Thorm, your time is over. Here, you will fall by my hand," she declared as you stood up, your body shaking in rage. "My friend here has kept you busy enough; now it is my turn to aid her in this fight. You should’ve stayed dead," she snarled, leaping forward and landing a hit on Thorm, causing him to stumble back. Seizing the opportunity, you ran from beside her, slicing at him and making him groan in protest as your blade sank into his arm. The two of you fought in sync, one striking after another, knocking Thorm back with each blow.

Just when you thought things would finally be over, Thorm's soldiers stopped fighting, and the room grew quiet. Clutching your side to put pressure on the wound Thorm had given you moments prior, you spat the blood that filled your mouth onto the ground.

"You should’ve just let things rest. We wouldn’t have to go through all this fighting if you just let things remain the way they did," Thorm remarked, glancing toward the side of the roof. As if on cue, a large tentacle sprouted from the side of the building, knocking you off the platform. Landing on the ground a few feet away from Shadowheart, you struggled to suck in the air that was knocked out of your lungs. Helpless, you watched Dame Aylin try her best to fight the tentacle before being wrapped up and taken under the tower.

Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, holding a vial up to your lips. "Drink this; you’re in no shape to move," she said, her eyes scanning your body, taking in every wound. "Gods, Tav, you’re going to overwork yourself like this. We can take Thorm while you rest," she suggested gently, attempting to tend to your wounds. Pushing her hand away, you shook your head before sitting up, finally able to catch your breath.

"No, I need to take him down. I won’t leave you guys to fight alone," you grunted, wincing at just how sore your entire body was. Muffling the whimper that left your mouth, you stood before hobbling over towards the hole left in one of the pillars. The others walked up behind you, peering down from beside you. Looking at the others, you nodded before jumping down into the hole, listening as they followed behind you.

---

The path to find Thorm once again was long and grueling as you made your way through the mind-flayer colony. Along the way, you enlisted the help of a small brain that you had saved on the ship when you were first kidnapped. Now, you stood before the door separating you from Thorm. Upon your entrance, you noticed two other individuals with him—the same ones from your visions, but something about them seemed familiar. A chill ran through your bones when you heard her name: Orin. Hearing that name sent waves of anger through you, and you could even taste a small hint of betrayal as you looked at her. Something snapped you from your trance when you noticed Gale step forward. You had completely forgotten that he promised to carry out Mystra’s request, and the anger towards the goddess filled you once more.

“Whatever you are thinking of doing, Gale, it’s not worth it,” you said, meeting his gaze. He looked determined, and the sight broke your heart. “I won’t let you blow yourself up. We can find another way to please her or even save you, but ending your life like this isn’t worth it.” Part of you couldn't figure out why you were determined to save Gale, but the other knew that you needed him there. He was a friend and someone you knew how to talk to, seeking comfort when you weren’t sure how to open up to Astarion.

Astarion stepped up next to you and brushed your fingers with his before looking at Gale. “For once, I agree with our Darling leader here. We can’t afford to lose you just yet. You can blow yourself up another time, but that time isn’t now,” he said, meeting Gale’s eyes with determination.

Gale sighed and nodded as he looked at his two friends—one who was nothing but worried about him and the other begging him, in the most twisted way, to stay alive. “Alright, you’re right. Maybe this isn’t my time to go just yet. We have other opportunities for me to blow myself up. I’ll stay and fight beside you, and I promise to give it my all,” he said, smiling as your body relaxed, and relief filled your worn-down body.

As you stepped forward, Thorm met your gaze, his eyes hardening. "I see you all made it here alive—a shame, truly. I never wanted to hurt you, and I certainly never wanted to kill you. You all had so much to live for," he said, pity filling his voice. Your mind raced as you thought back to the letters you found in the tower. The letters from his wife and daughter gave you a chance at an attempt to convince him.

"Thorm, you don’t need to do this. You could be with Melodia again; you can be with the one you love without consequences," you said softly, stepping forward and wincing as you raised your arms to hold up your hands. "She’s waiting for you to come back to her, and you can finally use this as a chance to see her again." The battle in his eyes was evident. Looking towards Gale, you signaled him to go free Dame Aylin from the hold Thorm had on her. Gale nodded in silent agreement before disappearing from the spot next to you.

If Thorm did see Gale, he paid him no mind. "The goddess wouldn’t allow that to happen, not with what I have done," he said quietly, almost as if he was thinking it over. "Selûne would never allow me to be with her, not after the things that I have done." You couldn’t help but hear the pain in his voice as he spoke. He truly wanted to be with her, and you could see that internal war happening in his head.

"But you can. You can show Selûne that you’re willing to give this all up and give yourself to her. You can show her that you’re willing to sacrifice power just to be with the one person that you truly love." You didn’t know why your voice wobbled or why it felt like you would cry, but then it hit you. You would give everything to be with Astarion; you would sacrifice yourself to see him if he had been taken from you. You would destroy the world or give yourself to a goddess just to see him one last time.

Thorm looked at you for a moment before nodding, and nothing but relief filled you. You weren’t sure if your body could take another fight right at this moment. “You’re right,” he said, “I can be with her, but I apologize for what happens next. I can’t stop it.” You froze at his words. What did he mean by those words? Before you could continue to think, Thorm threw himself over the edge into the green abyss.

Astarion scoffed as he looked at the others. “So you’re telling me all we had to do was convince him that he could see his wife, and he would just end any and all fighting for us? Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Just as he spoke his words, a rumble vibrated around them. Astarion opened his mouth to say something when a large skeletal hand reached up and slammed itself down in front of you, causing you to stumble back to avoid being smashed.

Another rumble sounded, but this time it sounded more like a groan. “I am the haunt of mausoleums, the god of graves and age,” a loud booming voice grumbled as a large figure started to emerge where Thorm had thrown himself. “Of dust and dusk. I am Myrkul, and you have slain my Chosen.” Your eyes widened in recognition. The god of death. You were about to go head-to-head with a god, and part of you just wanted to drop then and there. With your injuries, you had no idea if you would survive this. “But it is no matter, for I am Death. And I am not the end–I am a beginning,” it finished.

Beside you, you heard a gasp from Astarion and the others. “What in the nine hells is that thing?” he asked as you began to back away. The large skeletal figure reached out his hand, and a large scythe flew into his grasp. Sweat began to collect at your brow as the stinging in your side grew. You could taste the bile starting to rise in your throat, and the loss of blood started to catch up with you.

You didn’t miss how Shadowheart looked at you; she knew you were in pain, but you were relieved that the others were oblivious. Biting back a groan, you stood taller, letting your eyes focus on the being before you. “That is a god,” you grumbled, listening to Astarion let out a string of colorful words. Before you had any time to react, Myrkul swung his weapon down towards you, the tip of it catching your leg, causing you to let out a pained yell.

You weren’t sure if it was your yell that set them off or the sudden attack, but as you caught your balance, spells and arrows began to fly through the air toward Myrkul. The moment Dame Aylin was free of her confines, she let out a roar as she aimed to take down the god in front of you. Your head was spinning, and you felt as if the world would go black, but you kept pushing, determined to help your friends. Missiles shot from you, landing their mark as Myrkul let out a screech, swinging his weapons towards everyone. The fight felt as if it went on for hours, years even, before the sight of Astarion and Karlach were thrown off the raised area in which you were standing.

The sight of the lack of movement from Astarion sent a blinding rage through you. A loud and violent scream tore through you as panic filled your very being. You swung your weapon, landing hit after hit on the God of Death. It wasn’t until there was a loud screech from the god that you realized that he had fallen. The sight of Thorm now lying a few feet away from you put you in another blind rage. Stomping towards him, he looked up at you helplessly, fear filling his eyes at the sight of you. He was terrified of dying by your hand, but you paid no mind to the thought. Letting out another scream, you sunk your dagger into him, only to pull it from him and repeat the motions over and over. “This is your fault,” you seethe over and over, the blood coating your face in the process. The feeling of hands on your shoulders and a large body dragging you away had you kicking and screaming as you thrashed in their grip. “No, I need to send him back to where he came from, he doesn’t deserve to see her.” You scream, your eyes focused on the body before you.

A hand cups the back of your head as you’re spun around in the individual’s arms where they press your face to their broad chest. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, but you need to breathe, calm down.” Halsin. His low voice works to calm you as he massages his fingers into the back of your head just above where the now loose knot of your hair sits. You begin to feel your body relax as every ounce of rage leaves you and sobs begin to rack your body. “It’ll be alright, go to him, see if he’s okay,” Halsin whispers, slowly letting you go. You back away and welcome his touch as he wipes his thumbs under your eyes, swiping away any tears you had. He looked at you like you were his daughter, and he worried just like any father would.

Nodding, your gaze falls on Astarion before you scramble over to him, falling to your knees. Grabbing his face in your hands, you caress his cold cheeks before shaking him. “Astarion, wake up,” you grumble, shaking him again. “Wake up, or I swear to the Nine Hells I’ll sell my soul to make Raphael bring you back just so I can kill you myself.” You whimpered, when there was no response you let your head fall to rest on his chest as you squeezed your eyes shut.

A hand moves and places itself on the back of your head before you feel his chest rattle with a cough. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Darling, threatening to take my life all over again.” Your body snaps up as he keeps his head on the back of your head before moving it to rest on your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

Smacking his chest, you let out a sniffle as your muscles and wounds scream in pain. “I thought you died,” you sob, looking away from him. His laugh sent a wave of relief through you as his hand took yours.

“I couldn’t leave you, not after threatening to have Raphael bring me back just so you can do the job yourself; that threat was more terrifying than the god we just faced.” He jokes, causing you to let out a breathless laugh as you lean into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere, my sweet, you’re stuck with me.” Nodding, you help him to his feet as you turn to the others.

“Let's get out of here; we deserve to celebrate, especially since we finally broke the shadow curse. A night of drinking and sleep sounds perfect right about now.” You say, watching as your group, no your family, smile and let out a loud yell of celebration with Dame Aylin as she leads the cheers. This was your family, and one you would fight thousands of gods for, even if it means losing yourself in the process.

A/N: She was a long one, but I do hope you guys enjoyed it. I will be turning this into a small series as we get to explore the events that have taken place throughout thier adventure.

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howyouloveyourdragon · 4 months

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𝕬𝖑𝖑'𝖘 𝕱𝖆𝖎𝖗 𝕴𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕰𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 (part i)

🇨🇭🇦🇵🇹🇪🇷 🇴🇳🇪⦂ 🇹🇭🇪 🇼🇦🇹🇪🇷🇸 🇴🇫 🇹🇭🇪 🇼🇪🇸🇹

summary: After Jacaerys is sent crashing into the icy ocean that he had thought to have escaped once before and slowly feels himself drift away from this realm...he awakens to a charming woman ensuring his health. A witch. Inviting her home is easy but it begins to sour when he discovers this witch is not unknown to his mother and neither is her heart. pairing: slowburn jacaerys velaryon x witch!reader x (later) rhaenyra targaryen pronouns: she/her part: 1/8 dividers by: hitobaby wordcount: 4,108

A powerful wave passes over his head and forces a rough gasp to rip from Prince Jacaerys Velaryon’s throat. At two and twenty, he had not imagined that he would be escaping death a second time beneath the sea’s ferocious call…but the ache of his arms are growing and his eyelids are slackening. Even his heart shivers as the cold water washes over him. Jacaerys can feel his useless hands claw at the relentless waves to no avail but still, hope latches on as tight as a stiff padlock. As tight as a man still believing of the Gods and all to which they had promised him. Whispers hiss through his ears from the wind, false promises of safety and comfort if he would just…let…go. And yet he does not. Not at first. Not at second…and then…He cannot ignore the tempting exhaustion any longer…He cannot…He cannot…He takes one last breath and then his fluttering lashes tire as his heart begins to feel more like a brush than a beat. All’s fair in love and war, they had said, whispering it into the shell of his ear until gooseflesh had stained his shivers. The exhaustion of war was long-lasting, turning thick skin fragile and in this cursed, wretched case–a prince into a man as weak as a drained newt.

Salt rubs roughly against his scalp as his body wraps around a broken plank of dark wood. Somehow, he cannot find the strength to stay afloat however as his body begins to slowly sink away from it. The weight of his soaked fabrics clings tightly to him, suffocating. Jacaerys feels his eyes flicker but no longer with desperation to escape but instead desperation to release himself from the thoughts of his mother, of his brothers…of gentle Lucerys awaiting him in the realm he cannot yet reach. To finally escape the nobles that haunt him about the keep. The question bellows in his mind; why are you still fighting? The war has passed and yet still death entangles its cold fingers around you. Your betrothed has already wedded another, your trueborn brothers support your mother’s legacy, your mother has been named Queen–why are you still fighting thine own destiny? Thine own fate? Truly if he were fated to die, Jacaerys would consider such thoughts but surely the Gods would not punish him for mere errors of his heritage and if not for that then why else? To what does he owe his life? It is torturous that he still cannot grasp onto the wood as he slowly slips. It is infuriating how the clutches of Gods do not reach for him. Perhaps being devout is not quite enough to save him this time…Perhaps it never was. His lids turn limp, furiously pushing upward despite the pressure like a dismantled current. As the sea turns, the prince imagines his mother’s face at the news. Who would tell her? If anyone. He had not told anybody that he had planned to visit the Westerlands, he had not told anybody to expect him home at all and after so many trips north unnoticed…

He contemplates in the haze of disconnected presence whether it be best that she be informed or not. To which rumour would Mushroom continue to concoct should he pass? A faint smile twitches at his mouth. Perhaps he would continue to spout tales of the fictitious Stark girl, that he had run away with her in the throes of passion and heart-ache. He should like that tale, he thinks to himself. Jacaerys imagines it, of bards not singing of victory and accomplishment but love instead as he rots below the water. Never to be seen by the court’s scrutinising stare again. Perhaps Mushroom would envision him in a little cottage surrounded by greenery and lush forest. Making his way with pots, pans and crops of his own. It had been a long time since Vermax passed and yet Jacaerys feels his mind drift to him. To the sight of him resting curled beside that little cottage. Of this supposed ‘Sara’ outstretching her soft hand toward him and feeling the nuzzle of his rough snout. Would she want himself? Would she caress him and entangle her fingers in his hair and brush each strand away as if they were precious. As if he might be? He fools himself of the faraway dream as wind sweeps it now. He can feel it, he swears he does…If Jacaerys Velaryon should die a fool, it would still content him, he decides. His lids droop themselves gently. Content…such a simple word and yet one he had been chasing for what felt like centuries. And so he thanks the Gods for this gift as he lets go. For Mushroom’s frivolous stories, for his mother’s crown, for his brother’s timid bravery. For home. Even if it is not his own. He thanks them. And he lets go.

Which is why a jolt drops through him when he awakens with an unexpected, wet cloth on his head and a scratchy blanket cocooning him. He blinks once, twice and then thrice as a soft golden light floats like a mist beside him. A gasp jumps past his lips, his eyes just as wide as those belonging to a fearful stag. The shock freezes him. There is no candle in sight. He shifts for only but a moment before he jumps again at the sound of a creak beneath him. The bed, of course, he sighs. He must recall that these are not the luxurious quarters he is used to. Jacaerys looks around him as his breath quickens, it is certain by the wooden planks that this is not his home and nor does he expect to find a loved one nursing but then…who has been? The door squeaks its presence like a vengeful kitten before a gentle face pokes through the gap. Jacaerys feels his sights rest on…a woman. A young woman. A young woman who is…He blinks. Beautiful. The prince stiffens his posture immediately and clears his throat. And then just as quick as the door opened, she was suddenly at his side and her oddly gentle hands were now taking away a wetted cloth from his forehead. He flushes pink as he realises. She caresses his face gently. “Oh you poor thing,” She says, her words soft and cooing. Her lullaby lips soften him with the speed of clicking her fingers as they press to his temples. Jacaerys can feel his lashes flutter as the soothing strokes of her fingers gentle his mind, circling the skin below his eye. And then the sweetest words fall from her lips, foreign and yet ever so welcome to his wanton ears. A sweet song from lands of old, lands he had never been and yet they flow through him as easily as his blood through his own veins. As if they are part of him.

The woman looks commonborn by her dress and the flicker of dirt across her face but still, the prince is not certain. She handles him with the softness of a bird and the care of a devotee. He turns pink at the thought alone. At the image that flashes across his mind…The image of touching those pretty cheeks of hers and cupping them gently–of being close enough to do so...but that might be his delirium guiding those thoughts. He cannot find it in himself to care however when her lashes flutter over her eyes which shine like the reflection of an opal. When she leans forward and kisses either temple before pulling back again. The heat that radiates her flesh presses into him with homely warmth and the lingering scent of amber. It cloaks his nose and Jacaerys finds himself chastising his sights closed to intake every wave that graces him. When his eyes open again, he is greeted with an even more longing sight. There before him, this beautiful woman with her soft eyes and gentle appearance looks to him with concern and care. “How are you feeling, milord?” The title catches him off-guard but he does not let it cloud him. “Hm?” Too much… He blinks again to shake off his nerves. A smile twitches at her lips to his mild confusion, it can’t help but make him prideful. “How are you, milord?” She repeated, a twinkle in her eye. “Are you feeling any better?”

“It is not their fault that they have created such beauty before me that I am struck by her.” His words flutter through the air like a butterfly’s wings and she is taken aback. She pauses and he watches, mesmerised by her. For a moment, he wonders whether she will answer, whether his words have scared her and he is instantly grateful that she cannot hear his beating thoughts. The rush that braces against his head. He swallows them down. An invisible thread of string pulls from his centre toward her and he cannot help the way he listens to it. His gentle hand rises to cup the side of his face. “That I find myself shivering at your touch–not the cold.” A shudder runs down the woman’s spine and she melts before him. She whispers to him in one mere word. “Oh.” And like that, Jacaerys feels his most sacred organ squeeze. He feels that invisible thread multiply and wrap around his heart and clench it. “If you are to pray to the Gods for my well-being…” Het rails, seduction thick on his tongue. “Then pray for the desire of my heart to quench itself.” Her hair rustles through his fingers in curls. Odd little waves that call for his attention. He follows them as though they crave it themselves. But the woman’s breath hitches and she stands abruptly, pretending as though she is not silently pleading for breath as it heavies. She clears her throat as she walks backward toward the door. His sights remain only on her. His hand stays still, holding nothing more than cold nothing. The barest of a linger. “Then, please, make yourself at home and rest, I shall return later with…with food.” She is gone without a trace.

Without her, he had rested, but surely once she returned, the heat of embarrassment conquered his face and his body begged not to cringe away from her. Never had the case of flirtation struck his mind and yet once he is incapacitated, he does so. With false conviction. A sigh ripples past his lips and he stares down to the wooden floor while the woman hurries herself around the room with baskets of berries, fruits, herbs. Jacaerys cleared his throat and squeezed shut his eyes. “I apologise for my behaviour last eve.” He blurts before he can stop himself. Before the shame can grow any more great. He hears a distant hum, curious enough to call forth his sights. The woman looks entirely unbothered as she unloads the baskets. Her head tilts toward him, eyes catching his unsure stare. “I had not…I had not intended to cause discomfort or concern you.” He presses further, desperate to amend himself. But then her lips twitch upward and a chuckle escapes her. “You need not. It was quite amusing.” Her sweet voice echoes. He would be lying in untruth if he attempted to suede one into thinking his shoulders did not drop in relief. “I do not?” He breathes. Her smile grows and she shakes her head. Slowly his embarrassment softens. His own lips begin to quirk. “You do not even know my name–” “And you do not even know mine.” She returns, the quip light on her tongue.

Slowly, her steps track closer to him rather than into the short kitchen. The bags are dropped onto the floor with an odd gentleness. “Then what should I call you?” He queries, leaning up on his hands. At this, she hesitates, but still she sits at his side and smiles at him. Her smile is warm, he notes. It is kind. It is welcoming him to her mere presence. “Perhaps I will tell you once you are well.” An inch apart, Jacaerys chuckles. His head dips down as a low rumbling sound was pulled from him as easily as a branch from a tree. Tough at first but surely. “Why must I wait?” He inquires, biting down on his lip. As the mysterious woman looks down at him, Jacaerys’ eyes glimmer. He looks…He looks sweet…Gentle…It had been a long while since she had seen such a face, she was sure. Not that she could possibly remember such a thing…Her face felt as though its lowering was entirely of the fates. As though the Gods themselves were pushing her forth. Were curling their fingers in her hair and pressing her closer. She clears her throat and longs to remember. She snaps her head backward and lets Jacaerys’ hope fall flat. Unhomed. A now-familiar pink flush washes up his neck. She smiles back at him sympathetically. “I am afraid that some things are better kept to oneself until they are certain.” And Jacaerys sighs. He supposed that that was right but it did not ease him.

The woman then lifts herself from the bed and starts back toward the basket-cradled foods. Again, Jacaerys sighs but now tosses back his head in frustration. The last day that he had spent, before yesterday, without forcing a purpose had been far too long ago to comfort him. He tried to recall it now…Perhaps the day after teaching his brother Joffrey of The Seven. It had been dark and dreary that morn–so much so that he had taken ill. A smile pulls his lips at the memory of Lucerys tugging at his arm and pleading to finish a story from the night before. The boy had fallen asleep too early. His smile faded just as quickly. A grunt ripped from his mouth and his teeth clenched shut. Lucerys…Lucerys…Lucerys… Jacaerys’ breath hitches and his head whipped to the other side of his pillow. A wince overran his face as he fought away his brother’s face. His brother’s voice. His brother’s mere name. He tries desperately to push it out, out, out. Just as he is about to rip away his hair (fingers tight in his curls despite no memory of reaching there)–The soft murmurings that he could remember as a voice are lulling him back.

The voice is muffled but it was as clear to him as a siren and just as tempting. It sounds like a song…As if a sweet-voiced bard were calling for him. Still, his breath shrieks for release, still it sunk through his lungs and weighed hard but his body had calmed from its tension. Reluctantly, it pries open his eyes too. He peeks cautiously until only the mysterious woman’s face greets him. She says nothing as he softens. As he returns to the flesh of his body rather than the panic of his mind. She only smiles. She only welcomes him. A hand holds one of his own. “Would you like something to eat?” The woman asks, holding out a plate filled with bread. Jacaerys’ eyes flicker over the slices and try not to irritate his stomach at the sight of vibrant red, blue and purple spreads coating them. He licks his lips at the puffed oranges. He swallows in his dry mouth and nods. “Yes.” Jacaerys chokes out. She settles beside him once more and reaches for one of the thick-pasted breads. If she did indeed question why such a happening occurred, she did not bring it to his attention.

Silence erupted between them with ease. It was almost startling how quickly he grew to miss the warmth of her touch in only a few spared moments. The curl of her finger in his hair, the gentle circle of his neck. He swallowed down the affectionately crafted food but let the sweet taste linger on his tongue. Beside the treacle flavoured bread, she had arranged a thick broth to join their taste buds. It was warm and satisfying as it slid down to his stomach. He found it odd how well common food could please him after so long in a life of luxury. It was nothing like the food in the South nor the North but it was not quite akin to the foods in which he would devour against the cold brush of war. The meals he spent only among his harrowed comrades. He winced but not at her food. At what he had missed, what he had lost, as he stared down at the honey coloured broth. It glimmered in the light of the sun. “Was he your friend?” The woman asked suddenly. Jacaerys’ eyes snapped up to her. “What?” Ripped out of his mouth. Her face was soft and gentle, almost beckoning the words out of his mouth. “...Luke. You say his name in your sleep.” Again, Jacaerys swallowed but this time not for the crave of her food. Her hand reaches for his but Jacaerys feels himself flinch. The woman stills. “You need not tell me,” She continued, quietly. Her lashes fluttered with a slowness that if he focussed on it, it would soothe his inability to breathe. “But I have heard that speech is a human’s most comforting solace.” This time when she reaches for him, his fingers nudge between hers. They interweave like thread.

Jacaerys gives himself a breath. A crisp, cold breath and then…”My brother, actually.” He whispered just short of air. An exhale. His chest is tight, it squeezes and whimpers and wrenches. “He was my brother.” She only nods, unwrapping him of his nerves with a mere circle of her fingers along his hand. The encouragement threatens the water in his eyes but one more time he swallows it down. “I killed him.” Pressure heavies the air. It pushes down on them with the weight of a boar. Yet, she retreats not. Not even when the dam breaks and his tight throat releases a choked gasp. Tears push themselves from his eyes and the crushing wave of his own guilt grasps his tender brain with a roughness he hadn’t known possible. “I was the one who told her we should be messengers! That it was our duty to protect her! I should have been protecting him.” Shock rocks through him when a soft hand pulls his face to her chest. As she clambers onto the bed and she clutches him close. The warmth of her draws his every instinct. It cries for him, begs for a skim of his flesh. “I should have been protecting him and instead I killed him.” The lump in his throat thickens and his tears refuse to stop. No matter how hard he begs them. His hair tousles in the woman’s soothing hands as he sobs. Jacaerys almost hopes that once her breath draws to his ear, she will sing her song again and the internal harrow will soothe just as the external had before but she did not. Instead, she presses a calming kiss to his temple. She lets him wail with her arms cocooning him.

An hour wastes away in the sour afternoon but she does not leave him. She lets him lay and calm and finally when the tears stop, she strokes back his hair. Droplets of sweat pearl at his forehead like a circlet. A crown of purity and anguish. “I think you are beautiful and kind and you should understand how proud your brother would be of you for looking after your mother in his absence.” The woman whispers then presses another kiss to his face. “I will not be a moment.” She assures but a quiet whine breaks past Jacaerys’ lips and his hand paws at her like a frightened man of youth rather than a war-torn soldier. She supposes he is both as she slips away and descends back to the kitchen. The bowls and plates are scooped into her hands and sent to the thick bucket of now cold water. She glances behind herself to catch sight of Jacaerys. To her surprise, he is staring back at her softly; his face sits blank when their eyes lock but there is something gentle in his eyes. Something waiting for her call. “Can I help?” He asks quietly, akin to that of a wounded dog. Hesitation tenses her but surely, she nods. “Of course.” She answers. Her fingers dip into the cold water and flows them back and forth an invisible creek of her mind. The ridges of water rock over her hand before it finally warms. In time for Jacaerys to kneel at her the bucket’s side and take a plate from her. Their flesh brushes against one another and they still. They pause. They feel their breath hitch as one…before he rolls the plate into the water.

The woman’s eyes track down to the smooth, white bowl in her hands and she grasps a wet cloth. Cleaning had not been something she enjoyed but now with the curious man beside her, there was an odd domesticity she enjoyed. “My name is Y/n.” She finally tells him in a wisp and it is as if the air has cooled. As if clarity has finally bitten through a frost and gentled their minds. Jacaerys, himself, halts. His eyes track to her and follow the curves of her face. “My name is Jacaerys.” He returns, holding his breath. There was only one who could wield such a name without insulting all that house the heritage of Old Valyria. One who could bear such a sacred name. But if she understands his secret, she speaks not of it. She smiles. Soft and sweetening the salt of his nerves. She nods. “It is honourable to make your acquaintance.”

As Jacaerys nods and stirs lukewarm water atop porcelain (to which he does not have the curiosity to question from whence it originally came) to rid of it the jams and honeys this generously sweet woman had crafted for them to share, he lets her name sing in his mind. To rivet through the caverns and corners of his thoughts. All is still and all is gentle. All is kind. And all is their own. Two flesh familiar and yet such strangers. He decides then that he will not allow her to go unnoticed by his heart. That he will better his judgement until he can be worthy of her friend perhaps. Oh what a bittersweet title he desired as his own.

Perhaps Jacaerys would not allow them to remain strangers for long at all. In fact he is certain of it as the distant sound of waves crashing echo in his ears and hope floats in the air.

A/N: first of all, wtf my beloved @jacevelaryonswife??? this is a beautiful gif i adore it ♥♥♥ second of all thank you to all the lovely people that took the time to have a read through this and coached me through my concerning moodboard procrastination process ilysmm, @worms-on-a-single-string @pendragora @hopelesswritergall @officerbrowneyes thank you all for feeding my delusions. also, while reader's abilities are only hinted at for now, i swear they will become more relevant

General Taglist - @hopelesswritergall - @succnfuccubus - @madame-fear

HOTD Taglist; - @wrendermedone - @its-actually-minicika - @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly - @adelusionalwriter - @cookielovesbook-akie - @maximofftwinsbitch - @ughhthisbitch - @daenerysapologist - @savagemickey03

Jacaerys Taglist - @fairysluna - @jacevelaryonswife - @maximofftwinsbitch

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