#Foreign Affairs au

[ao719]

Vancross

Vancross - Rescue You (Chapter 23)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.  

Title inspiration: Rescue - Lauren Daigle

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

“Are we there yet?” Trystan cut his eyes up to the rearview mirror and stared at Blaine. “I’m just kidding. Everyone is just so fucking quiet and it’s starting to make me a little uneasy.” 

“Nerves are good. Gets the adrenaline going,” Leo quipped. 

They’d been driving nearly an hour with Amalas checking in every 15 minutes since they crossed over the Drakovian border to ensure their earpieces were still working. Thankfully, they hadn’t had any issues so far. 

“We’ve got to be close,” Simon said. 

Trystan had been quiet the entire ride, trying to get himself into the zone; he’d have to become a slightly different person once he entered the lion’s den and he needed to get himself into that mindset. But as the marker Everett placed to signal his upcoming turn came into view, he figured it was time. “We’re close …” 

Trystan slowed the SUV, turned onto a dirt road, and shut off the lights, leaving the path ahead visible only by the silver moonlight from above as they moved at what felt like a snail’s pace. The path was lined by a thick forest of trees on both sides, giving nothing away as to what lay beyond them. 

“I’m just gonna say it … this feels very fucking ominous,” Blaine whispered.

After several long moments, lights flickered from a vehicle parked up ahead, and the SUV rolled to a stop just as Amalas’ voice crackled in their ears. 

“I see that you’ve arrived. Everything clear?”

“Good here,” Trystan confirmed, and the other three repeated his words.

Trystan and Leo exited the vehicle first, and Blaine and Simon gave one another a look before they followed suit. As they approached the other vehicle, they watched as a familiar face came into view.

Jonas, Croía’s former guard, bowed to Trystan. “It’s good to see you, sir. If only it was under better circumstances.” 

“Agreed,” Trystan said. “Thank you for your willingness to help.”

“Of course.” 

“Is everything set on your end?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Trystan turned to look at the other three. “Don’t forget to stay alert and don’t draw attention to yourselves. Wait it out until the time comes, and once each of you has your spin as we’ve planned, you slip out through the side exit of the ballroom. Everett will be waiting to lead you to the tunnel … and I’ll meet you back here. Try not to get caught or, worse, die.” Blaine’s and Simon’s brows rose and Leo snorted. “Kidding … mostly.” He looked at each of them, not needing to say what he was thinking; the gratitude in his eyes at what they were risking for his sister said more than enough. “See you soon.” 

They all shook his hand before the three of them slid into the other vehicle with Jonas, who was getting them through the gates with the help of Everett. 

As they drove off back down the path, Trystan turned and walked in the opposite direction before veering off onto a smaller path in the woods. He hadn’t been down there since he was a teenager when he would hide from his lessons or escape the constant watchful eyes of his parents. It was clear no one else had been down that way in quite some time, evident by the brush covering the path.

After walking roughly a mile, Trystan came to the end of the trail where the entrance to the tunnel was located. It had been closed off over a decade ago, but he knew there was a way to open it, and instructed Everett on how to do so. He spotted the thick piece of wood that was keeping the heavy door wedged open just enough, and he smiled triumphantly when he slipped through. 

“You made it.”

“Did you doubt me?” Trystan asked as he shook Everett’s hand. 

“Not at all,” Everett smiled as they started walking down the dark passageway with his flashlight guiding them. “Guests started to arrive roughly 15 minutes ago.”

“And you’re going to the gate?”

“Yes. Jonas just sent me a message, so I’m headed there now.”

“Perfect.” Trystan glanced over at him. “How’s Croía?”

“I don’t know,” Everett shook his head. “I haven’t seen her today. She’s been with your mother since this morning.”  

Trystan’s jaw tensed, but he nodded. When they rounded the first corner, Trystan stopped Everett. “Once you get back inside, there’s something I need you to do …” 

****

Jonas waited in the car line going through the front gates of the palace where a guard was doing clarification checks of the guest list. 

“A guard is circling the vehicles while the other does the clarification checks,” Jonas said quietly. “If they tap on your window, roll it down and act bored and annoyed by their presence.”

Blaine, Leo, and Simon nodded their agreement from the backseat as they fixed their masks into place; each mask was designed to conceal most of their face, giving off phantom of the opera vibes. 

When the first of the three vehicles ahead of them finally pulled through the gate, Jonas drummed his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel; Everett had yet to come and replace the one guard checking the guest list. After a few moments, the next car pulled through the gate, leaving one more ahead of them.

“Come on,” Jonas mumbled under his breath. He watched as the other guard slowly circled the vehicle in front of them and felt the sweat beading his brow as they got closer to finishing. The guard circling the vehicle tapped the back of it, signaling them to go ahead. “Shit.”

Just as the car ahead started to roll through the gate, Everett appeared, and Jonas released a breath of relief as he slowly began pulling forward. He watched Everett say something to the guard, who then handed him the tablet with the lists before hurrying toward the palace as he rolled to a stop in front of him.

“IDs,” Everett said curtly, falling into character. 

As Jonas spoke with Everett, Leo, Blaine, and Simon watched as the other guard slowly circled their vehicle; their eyes tracked his every movement until he stopped in front of Leo’s door and tapped a knuckle against the window. 

Leo’s jaw tensed as he rolled it down. “What?” he snapped. 

The guard peered inside. “Just checking the vehicle, sir.”

“Make it quick,” Leo spat in feigned annoyance. “I don’t intend on spending my evening sitting in the back of my damn car.” The man met his gaze, but unlike the guards he was used to dealing with back home, this one arched a brow almost in a challenge. It didn’t deter him, however. “Well, are your eyes fucking working? Or do I need to tell Queen Viktoria that we were late due to being held up at the gate by her incompetent guard?” 

The man stared at him for another heartbeat before offering a curt nod. “Enjoy your evening, sirs.” 

Leo rolled his eyes before rolling up his window. When Jonas pulled through the gate, Simon let out a snort. “Dude …” 

“I just know that guy has a list of nobles he wants to kill and Lord Sterling DuPont was just added to it,” Blaine chuckled. 

Leo grinned. “Gotta give ol’ Sterling a reputation.”

“Everyone still connected?” Amalas’ voice crackled in their ears.

“Good here,” Blaine answered. “We just got through the gate.”

“Good on my end,” Trystan’s voice came through. “But I’m probably going to lose you here in a second. I’ll let you know when I’m back on.”

“What do you mean?” Blaine questioned. “What if you need—”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Just get inside.” 

“That’s fucking great,” Leo grumbled. “We’re not even inside and he’s already going rogue.”

“I can still hear you, asshole,” Trystan said.

“I’ve got eyes on him for now,” Amalas interjected, reminding them she was watching the security feed. “If he needs assistance, I’ll let you know. You three just worry about what you need to do.”

Leo sighed just as the SUV came to a stop outside the front entrance. “I’ll see you back where we met up,” Jonas said quietly. “Good luck.” Blaine patted his shoulder right before a staff member opened the door.

Leo slid out followed by Blaine and Simon, and each offered a curt nod as they buttoned their suit jackets before making their way up the stairs. As they stepped through the front entrance, while some guests were led straight into the ballroom, they were instructed to take their place in a line. 

They glanced around the foyer, dimly lit by the two gothic-style chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. In front and behind them in the line stood other masked guests … the men who would be vying for Croia’s hand that evening. 

And suddenly, the full impact of what that evening was about hit Blaine like a ton of bricks. Croía was, in a nutshell, supposed to be auctioned off to one of these men … like some prized fucking animal. 

It made his throat burn with bile. 

“Remember, it’s not the Princess you need to impress this evening,” one man in front of him said quietly to another beside him, but not quietly enough for Blaine not to overhear. “It’s Queen Viktoria who will be choosing. And considering the Crown Matrimonial is in play—”

“I’m aware, Father,” the other man interrupted. “I’ll have no problem showing the Princess exactly where her place is and will be if I’m the one chosen.” 

Blaine’s hands balled into fists at his sides as his jaw tensed. Confirmation of these men being aware of the power being offered to them had just been given. They had no intention of showing Croía any sort of respect that evening. Why? Because they weren’t trying to gain her favor but Viktoria’s. 

Tonight, they needed and were expected to show Viktoria that they’d be both willing and able to keep Croía in line. 

Anger flared in Blaine’s chest at the thought of any of these assholes crossing any sort of line with his friend. And more bile rose in his throat at the idea of Liam having to hear about it. 

“Blaine?” Simon whispered.

Blaine snapped from his daze and looked at Simon and Leo; both their eyes flickered down to his balled-up fists. He cleared his throat and flexed his hands open. “I’m fine.” 

After several long moments, they finally stepped over the threshold into the ballroom, and they all immediately searched for Croía as the line slowly moved. They finally saw her standing at the front of the dais, dressed in a black and gold gown and a matching gold mask. 

Behind her were six figures seated on the dais. 

The two in the center were the unmasked King and Queen, dressed in black regalia; two chairs sat on either side of them, each one occupied by a figure dressed in a hooded black garb, and their identities were concealed entirely by full-face masks, each of a different design. 

“That’s not unsettling at all,” Simon quipped. 

As Simon, Blaine, and Leo grew closer to the dais, they adjusted their masks, ensuring they stayed in place. Leo’s eyes were locked in a side-long stare on the King and Queen while Blaine’s remained on Croía. Some suitors simply bowed without a word and walked away. Others, however, like the asshole in front of them that Blaine overheard in the foyer, seemed to deem it necessary to assert their dominance.

“Your Highness,” the man bowed when he made it in front of her. 

Blaine watched intently. Croía didn’t move, even as the man took her hand in his without her permission. He brushed his lips against her knuckles before lifting his head, and Blaine saw the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk as his grip on her hand tightened. “After tonight, you’ll be the one bowing, and hopefully to me.” 

A low growl left Blaine’s throat, and Leo inconspicuously nudged him at hearing it. “Chill.”

“He just—”

“I know.” Leo’s jaw tensed. He’d heard it, too. And he’d give anything at that moment to beat the living audacity out of the guy, but they had to stay focused. 

It was finally their turn.

Simon stepped up to Croía first, silently bowing at the waist before stepping away; he had been worried his voice might give him away should he say anything. 

Leo followed behind him. “Your Highness,” he bowed and quickly stepped away. 

When Blaine stepped up in front of Croía, his eyes found hers, but she didn’t meet his gaze; she was looking through him, staring straight ahead instead as if in a trance. He quickly scanned over her for any sign of injury or distress, but nothing stood out other than her thin, statuesque posture. When his eyes fell on her face again, his jaw ticked when he saw a lone tear trickle down her cheek from beneath her gilded mask. We’re here, Croía. “Your Highness,” he said quietly to mask his voice as he bowed before stepping away. 

****

Lydea closed an open stateroom door as she made her way down the hall; she was doing one last cursory check of the upper levels. When she rounded the corner, she stopped short and furrowed her brow. “What are you doing?” she called out. 

Everett turned and met her gaze, offering a bow as she approached him. “Just doing a cursory check of the corridors, ma’am.” 

“I’m doing the cursory checks. Your post is downstairs in the ballroom.”

“I just thought — with all the guests this evening, I mean—”

“I’ve got it handled. Now get your ass downstairs.” 

“Of course, ma’am.” Everett gave another stiff bow before hurrying for the stairs. He waited a moment before glancing over his shoulder, seeing her still watching him; he quickly looked away. Once at the stairs, he inconspicuously slid his eyes in her direction once more, watching her disappear down the corridor he’d come from when she spotted him … and he smirked. 

She’d done exactly what Trystan said she would. 

Lydea let her gaze flicker around as she walked the length of the corridor; the guards were all stationed downstairs, either in the ballroom or on the grounds around the palace. Not in the third-floor corridor. And certainly not the one that led to the private suites of the Thorne progeny. 

Once at the end of the hall, Lydea turned and started checking the doors to the rooms. 

Vasili’s and Sebastyan’s doors were locked as they usually were. Marguerite’s door was locked, the same as it had been since her last visit more than a year ago. 

In the next hall, Emika’s and Kaspar’s doors were locked. Astrid’s door was locked. Her own door was locked. She bypassed what was once Trystan’s room without a second thought and peered around the corner at the lone door at the end of the small hallway. 

Croía’s room. 

By itself. 

Away from the others. 

Lydea approached it and jiggled the knob. It, too, was locked. She sighed as she turned back and started to make her way back to the ballroom, but she halted a step after passing what was once her eldest brother’s room. Her brow furrowed as she turned back around, confirming what she thought she saw. 

The door was cracked open. 

With one hand on the hilt of her dagger, Lydea pushed open the door with her free hand and stepped inside; she glanced around, taking it in for the first time in eight years. She froze again and tilted her head to the side when her eyes fell on the oil painting on the far back wall; the portion of the wall it was hanging on was ajar and she could feel the draft coming from the stone passageway … the passageway that only she and her siblings had access to through each of their suites. 

Lydea slowly moved toward the opening; Kaspar and Emika were the only ones she knew who still used the passageway from time to time, and it was entirely possible they entered Trystan’s old room for whatever reason their twisted minds felt necessary. Hell, they could be having weekly slumber parties in there and she wouldn’t know or even care for that matter. Being that Kaspar was told not to be near the palace that night and Emika was charged with keeping him away, however, she was curious if her two younger siblings had managed to sneak in. 

Stepping through the opening in the wall, Lydea made her way into the passageway; she stopped once inside the darkened stone hallway, listening for the echo of voices or footsteps, but heard nothing. She stopped again at the end of the stone hall, staring at the wooden door that led to the massive chamber beyond it. 

It was open. 

“What the hell are those two up to now?” Lydea whispered to herself as she started for the door. She stepped inside, expecting to find her two younger siblings lounging in the secret sanctuary they used as children, but her brows rose at who was there instead.

Leaning against a column at the edge of the room, Trystan nonchalantly — and expertly — twirled a dagger in his hands. “Hello, Lyddles,” he smirked. “Long time no see.”

“Well, this is certainly a surprise.” Lydea feigned indifference while her mind raced with how the hell he’d managed to make it inside completely undetected. “I can say that you’re the last person I expected to find here.”

“You know how much I love surprises,” Trystan grinned. “You’re looking rather official in your uniform.” He tilted his head in thought. “It suits you.” 

“Cut the small talk,” Lydea said as she stopped a few feet away from him. “How did you get in here? And considering you’re not supposed to step foot inside the palace, let alone the country unless summoned by the King or Queen — which you weren’t — what are you doing here?”

“To answer your first question, I have my ways. As for your second question … I think you already know the answer to that.” 

Lydea stared at him. “Croía …” 

“Still sharp as a whip, aren’t you?” Trystan grinned.  

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not going to get very far in your task, I’m afraid.”

“You almost sound convincing.” Trystan offered a menacing smile as he skillfully flipped the dagger in his hand. “Almost.”

“The guards will be up here in a moment,” Lydea said, “and unfortunately, I’ll have to take you into custody.”

A low, sardonic chuckle escaped Trystan. “Lyddles, give your big brother a little more credit than that. You haven’t alerted your guards. And even if you tried with that silent trigger on your fancy little radio — yes, I know about it — this chamber, if I recall correctly, doesn’t emit signals for shit because we’re too deep inside the palace and these concrete walls are too damn thick. That’s why Astrid stopped coming in here because she couldn’t get a signal on her phone.” He saw the flicker of irritation in her eyes from him remembering those details, and he grinned triumphantly. “Now … we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

“No, dear brother, the choice is yours. I’m either taking you with me freely or against your will.” 

Lydea kept her voice steady and expression indifferent despite knowing this was a battle she would more than likely lose. This was Trystan. She’d never admit it out loud, but her big brother could outsmart her both intellectually and physically. 

“Your confidence is inspiring. Truly,” Trystan teased with a smirk. “But I’m going to call your bluff.” 

“Trystan, you don’t want to do that.” 

All facetiousness left Trystan’s face and his glare on his sister turned sinister as he took a threatening step forward. “Let me put it to you this way … I’m not leaving here without Croía. I’ll burn this palace to the fucking ground if that’s what it takes. And you know I’m crazy enough and feeling pissed off enough to do just that. So we have a couple of options here. I’m either going to take you out and continue on my way … or I’ll give you a chance to do the right thing and you can help me.” 

“The right thing is for Croía to—”

“Don’t,” Trystan spat. “You know nothing about her and what the right thing for her is. This … she is not built for this. And I don’t mean the crown, I mean this place. You and I both know that.” The brief flicker of guilt in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. “She’s not me or you. She is good, Lydea. Let her stay that way.”

“Trystan, my duty is—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your duty,” Trystan took another step forward. “You know this isn’t right. She’ll never be the person they’re trying to mold her into no matter how hard they try. This is going to do nothing but break her. But you’d rather stand there and watch her crumble than give her a fucking chance at a life away from here because of your high and mighty duty?” He paused, tilting his head. “Or is it because you’re afraid?”

“I am not afraid,” Lydea ground out through gritted teeth.

“Huh,” Trystan hummed. “Could have fooled me. Because the way I see it, you’re acting like a fucking coward because you’re afraid of what mommy dearest will say. You never could stand to be a disappointment, even if it was in the devil’s eyes.” A breath escaped Lydea as she held her brother’s gaze. “I’ve never asked you for anything. Even when my entire reputation was on the line, even when the lies started to spread like wildfire and I knew you were probably the one person who could prove my innocence if I begged you to really look into it … I never asked you for a damn thing. I’m asking you now. Not for me but for her.” His voice dropped to a dangerously threatening tone. “And I’m only going to ask once.” 

Lydea’s jaw tensed, and Trystan braced himself for a fight that would be grueling but that he knew he would win. She held his gaze for a few more heartbeats before closing her eyes and releasing a sharp breath. “What do you need?” 

Trystan straightened. “You better not be toying with me, Lydea. I’m in no fucking mood for games.”

“I’m not toying with you,” Lydea chided. “Croía asked me to help her … to get her out … and I wanted to, but …” 

“Well, here’s your chance to make it up to her,” Trystan interrupted. 

“Again … what do you need?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m doing,” Trystan said pointedly. “Because one, I don’t know if I can truly trust you. No offense.”

Lydea crossed her arms but shrugged. “None taken.” She couldn’t blame him there. 

“And two, the less you know, the better. I’m not asking you to directly insert yourself,” Trystan explained. “I only need you to help create a diversion …”

****

Long after the guests had made their way through the receiving line, Croía remained standing at the front of the dais. She wasn’t allowed to sit. She was the spectacle of the evening, the trophy for those not vying for her hand but for the crown her mother had dangled in front of them. 

The “suitors” would come and stand in front of her; they’d ogle her and talk about her and make comments as though she wasn’t right there and could hear their every word. She felt like a prize up for grabs. 

She felt used. 

She felt disgusting. 

In the last few days leading up to that night, Croía had given up; that sliver of hope she’d held onto to somehow find a way out had completely vanished after Lydea declined to help her. She hadn’t necessarily accepted the fate being forced on her that evening, but she had come to accept that there was nothing short of death itself that was going to get her out of it. And up until that night, she’d been in a daze of sorts. The days had been a blur. She’d been numb. 

Now, she was scared. 

Croía felt her throat burn and her eyes sting when two of the “suitors” finally turned away from her and headed back into the crowd after sharing would-be plans they had for her with one another. She felt sick. She fought the instinct to glance over her shoulder to where her mother was on the dais. Why she’d want to look to her for comfort, she didn’t know. She wouldn’t get it. 

She had no one. 

She was alone.

Croía’s breath hitched in her throat as she fought back the emotions threatening to spill out; she closed her eyes and thought of the one thing that could calm her … yet simultaneously wreck her. 

Liam. 

An ache rippled through Croía’s chest as she envisioned his smile, his kind blue eyes, and the sound of his laugh. Her mother’s words about him forgetting and giving up on her had infiltrated the deepest parts of her the past few days; as she slowly lost what little hope she had left, those words burrowed themselves into her soul. 

He’s forgotten you. 

He’s given up on you. 

What she wouldn’t give to tell him how sorry she was. She didn’t mean to let him down. She should have listened when he warned her not to come back here. She had no one to blame but herself for where she was at that very moment, and she couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him or anyone else for feeling the same. She’d made the stupid decision to come, all to seek some form of approval and affection from her parents that she knew deep down she’d never get. 

I was a fool. A naive fool. 

A voice pulled her from her daze and her eyes snapped open as her body went rigid under the scrutinizing gaze of another “suitor” now standing in front of her.  

****

Blaine, Leo, and Simon stood in the back corner of the ballroom, casually sipping drinks as they scanned the crowd. 

They’d kept to themselves save for a few curt nods of acknowledgment that they returned to other guests. They all found themselves on edge, however. Each time one of the guests approached Croía — who had yet to move from her place at the front of the dais — they watched them intently. When the King, Queen, and their creepy hooded cronies stepped off the dais and made their way around the room, they managed to dodge them entirely, making sure to stay huddled in an area they already bypassed. When the King and Queen returned to their seats on the dais, the others remained mingling with the rest of the crowd before they slipped out; Amalas confirmed they had left, having seen them on the security feed.   

“It’s almost time.”

Leo released a breath of relief at the sound of Trystan’s voice crackling in his ear. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Handling something.”

“Handling what?” Simon asked.

“Lydea. I’m moving into my spot now. They should be starting any moment. Everett is in position waiting for you.” 

As if on cue, a bell chimed, signaling that it was time for the Drakovian waltz. They had worked this part out so that no matter where they were positioned, they knew where they needed to end up. They watched as Croía finally moved from her place at the front of the dais to the center of the dance floor while the other guests took up positions around her.

As they made their way to the dance floor, out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw Lydea stride into the ballroom with another guard following closely behind her, making her way toward the dais. “Are you sure you handled your sister?” he whispered. “Because she just walked in and is headed right for your parents.”  

“Just do what we planned. Don’t worry about her.” 

As the music started and slowly began to swell, Lydea stepped onto the dais with the other guard and they stood in front of her parents, blocking most of their view. She leaned forward, appearing to start some deep discussion as the dance started. 

Other guests besides those vying for the Drakovian crown were now on the dance floor, but the idea was to give each “suitor” a dance with the Princess. 

The asshole that had been in front of them in the line earlier had somehow managed to end up as Croía’s first partner. 

As they went through the steps, Simon, Blaine, and Leo kept their eyes on Croía, and during each switch, they moved closer, throwing some off as they cut them off and took their respective partners, but it was easy for them to rectify and not enough to draw attention. 

Croía was being spun around from one guest to the next. When she switched partners again, the man she had been supposed to go to was cut off as another swept her away into a twirl. She glanced over at her mother on the dais, knowing the slip-up would infuriate her, but she hadn’t seen it; she was busy speaking to Lydea. 

When she looked back at her dance partner, he smiled. “Nice moves, darl.” 

Croía’s eyes slightly widened, recognizing both the voice and the silly term of endearment. “Si—” 

Before she could finish, Croía was twirled away into another pair of arms. She glanced around for who she could have sworn she’d just been with, but she couldn’t spot him in the crowd of tuxes and masks. Her chest burned where the brief spark of hope had started to ignite but was abruptly put out. She knew it wasn’t possible and her mind had just been playing tricks on her. 

Blaine had Croía now, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to her, not knowing how she or himself would react. He just wanted to get her the hell out of there and away from this place and these people as soon as possible. 

A few moments later, Croía was spun away again, landing in another set of strong arms. She knew something wasn’t right; she should still be at the center of the dance floor, but she had somehow shifted and was now near the back edge instead. She glanced at the dais again to gauge her mother’s reaction to her having somehow messed this up, but she was still distracted in conversation with Lydea. 

“Looking fancy, Cocoa Bean.”

Croía’s gaze snapped to the man in front of her at the instant recognition of the nickname; when she met his piercing blue gaze through his mask, her eyes welled with tears as her heart pounded. “L-Leo?” 

“Shhh.” Leo looked around, feeling her start to shake in his grasp as he continued to shuffle through the waltz steps. “Breathe, Croía,” he whispered. “Focus and don’t draw attention to yourself right now. I’m going to pass you off here in a minute and you need to go. Do you hear me?” She gave a quick nod, holding his gaze through the mask as if she were afraid this moment wasn’t real. “Good. I’ll see you soon,” he winked.

With that, Leo spun her away from him with a bit of force, sending her stumbling backward toward an alcove at the back wall. Before she could register what was happening, an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her through a secret door. She went to scream, but a large hand clamped over her mouth to silence her. Her eyes snapped up when she was spun around and they widened when she saw his face. 

“Trystan,” Croía choked out as he pulled her to him. 

“I’m here, kid,” Trystan replied. “I’m right here.” He closed his eyes when she clung to him, fisting his suit jacket in her hands; he could feel her trembling and hear her breath hitch but forced himself to refocus, stepping back from her and gripping her shoulders as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. “Listen to me. We don’t have a lot of time. I’ll explain everything, but we need to go. Now.”

Croía’s mind and heart were racing but she had enough sense to nod in reply. 

Trystan gripped her hand like a vice as he pulled her down a dark and musty passageway, moving through it as if it were second nature. The sound of her heels clicking against the concrete floor echoed against the old stone walls; he was moving so fast that she had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides. She had no idea where they were or where they were going. 

After turning a few more corners, they rushed toward a door at the end of the passageway, and when Trystan pulled Croía through its opening, she was outside. She watched him turn and pull out the thick piece of wood that had been there. The heavy door slammed shut with a resounding thud. 

“Let’s go,” Trystan said as he turned back, grabbing Croía’s hand again and pulling her into a pathway in the woods. 

Between the still lingering panic and moving so quickly, Croía was gasping for breath as they rushed through the dark woods. Her gown had snagged on branches and brambles, tearing the fabric in places and sweat beaded the hairline of her no longer elegant updo. 

Soon, they burst through the end of the pathway onto an abandoned dirt road, and Croía skidded to a halt when she saw two SUVs and the silhouette of a man standing in front of one … a man she didn’t recognize.

“Trystan,” Croía’s voice cracked as she stumbled back.

“It’s ok,” Trystan said. “Everett has been helping me … feeding me information to help get you out. He’s good. He’s coming with us.” He looked at the guard as he gave a quick bow. “Everyone ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Everett nodded.

“Good. Let’s go.” 

“Where are Leo and Simon?” Croía asked.

Trystan ushered Croía to the first SUV, opened the back door, and helped her in while Everett slipped into the driver’s seat. “They’re in the other SUV with Jonas and Blaine.” 

Jonas and Blaine, Croía thought as she was hit with another wave of emotion.

As he yanked the seatbelt across her chest and buckled it, Trystan could sense her gaze on him, and he looked up; he lifted his hands and pulled the mask off her face. “Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“I …” Croía trailed off as a lump swelled in her throat. She was overwhelmed and confused. Too much was happening all at once and she couldn’t think straight.

Trystan. Leo. Blaine. Simon. 

How they managed to get in or what exactly they had done, Croía didn’t know. But for a brief moment, she couldn’t help but think … if they were there, did that mean someone else was there? 

Those words that had made a home in her soul filled her head once again. 

He’s forgotten you. 

He’s given up on you. 

“I’m ok,” Croía finally choked out just above a whisper. 

Trystan nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He stepped back and shut her door. “Amalas … we’re on our way,” he said as he walked around to the other side. He chucked Croía’s mask on the ground of the dirt road before he slid inside. 

****

Amalas and Olivia looked at one another with grins. “Do you want to tell them or should I?” Olivia asked as she gestured in Liam’s and Alia’s direction; they were both pacing on the deck outside. 

“You can do the honors,” Amalas replied as she looked back at the screen and began typing. “I need to get this footage onto a USB before I wipe their security feed.”

Olivia nodded as she pushed back her chair and stood, making her way toward the sliding door. When she opened it and stepped outside, both Liam’s and Alia’s gazes snapped in her direction. “They’re on their way back.” 

“They … they got her?” Liam’s voice cracked.

Olivia felt an unmistakable sting in her eyes at the look on her friend’s face. She nodded, “They got her.”

Alia squealed through tears and ran inside, throwing her arms around her sister. 

A sharp breath, one he felt like he’d been holding all night, escaped Liam. And suddenly, he was trembling. “They got her …” He needed to hear her say it again.

“They did.” 

In the next moment, Liam sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands. Weeks worth of suppressed worry mixed with more gratitude than he’d ever felt in his life and it all poured out at once. 

Olivia placed her hand on his back as she crouched down next to him. “She’s on her way, Li.”

****

Thirty minutes into their drive back to Rivala, Trystan glanced over at Croía beside him, watching her as she stared out the window. His hand was clutched in hers; she hadn’t let it go since he got into the SUV. 

But she’d been silent. 

And that worry Trystan had about how far inside her shell she would be gnawed at him because he hadn’t been able to gauge her.  

Trystan hadn’t expected her to ask him questions about any of what took place that evening, not right now, not with Everett in the vehicle, someone she didn’t know. But it was her emotions — or lack thereof — that had him worried. 

While Croía had shed some tears, it wasn’t anything like what he’d braced himself for. She’d always been an emotional person, and considering what she’d been through, to be honest, he expected her to break down now that she was out. But she hadn’t. He knew she probably had a lot on her mind and that she had to be feeling beyond overwhelmed after everything that happened just that night alone, but he wasn’t sure if he could chalk her lack of emotions up to that or not.

As she stared out the window, Croía’s mind and heart felt heavy. She wasn’t sure where they were headed, but as long as it was far away from the place she once called home, she didn’t care. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she continued blinking them away and pushing those emotions threatening to unleash back into their bottle; she feared if she allowed them just a little bit of freedom, she wouldn’t be able to get them back under control. So she coated herself in a blanket of numbness … but it didn’t stop those words from breaking through. 

He’s forgotten you. 

He’s given up on you.

Croía wished she could drown them out, but they played in an echo on repeat in her mind. And each time she heard them, that thread holding her together would fray. 

Those words wouldn’t allow her to make sense of Leo, Blaine, and Simon being there. They offered excuses as to why else they chose to be a part of it, reasons that didn’t involve Liam … 

Because he’d forgotten … he’d given up.

****

Sitting inside the living area of the cabin, Alia and Liam stared out the window, waiting for the slightest glimpse of headlights to shine into the darkness outside and signal that the others had returned. Amalas and Olivia had made them stop watching long enough to force both of them to eat something, but as soon as they finished, they both returned to the sofa facing the window. 

Liam’s eyes flickered between his watch and the window; he’d been counting down the minutes since Olivia stepped onto the deck to tell them the news. It’d been just over an hour … they should be there.

Just as his eyes slid down to check his watch again, Alia sprung up, and his gaze snapped back to the window; the trees outside were illuminated by a light that grew brighter with each second. 

Then two SUVs rolled to a stop. 

Liam slowly rose to his feet as his eyes shifted between the two vehicles.

Alia was already rushing for the door. She flung it open, ran out onto the porch, and paused, watching as the back door of each SUV opened. Trystan emerged from one, and Leo from the other. When Trystan reached into the vehicle, she saw a hand take his, and a moment later, he helped Croía out. 

Alia flew down the stairs, making a beeline toward her. “Croía!” She threw her arms around her. 

Croía returned her embrace as her vision blurred. “Hi,” she choked out. Her eyes snapped to the front porch when two figures appeared from inside. 

Olivia and Amalas. 

Something inside Croía’s chest twisted, both with gratitude and heartache. 

Alia drew back to look at her. “You’re ok?” 

“Yeah,” Croía nodded before she was pulled into another hug. She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. 

Alia stepped back again, tearfully smiling as she tucked a loose strand of Croía’s hair behind her ear. Hearing the soft crunch of gravel behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, and when she looked back at Croía, her smile was broad. 

When Alia stepped aside … there stood Liam. 

Croía felt that dam inside her start to crumble at the mere sight of him. 

He didn’t forget.

He didn’t give up. 

He’s here. 

Suddenly, that thread that was barely holding her together snapped and the last several weeks crashed over her all at once. Her heart felt as though it was folding in on itself, making it hard to breathe. Croía pressed her palm to her chest and bowed her head as a sob ripped from her throat and her knees buckled beneath her, and she began to sink to the ground.

Before she could hit the gravel, Liam was there, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her up to him as she fell apart, trembling through broken sobs in his embrace. He bit his lip, rapidly blinking his eyes to rid them of the sting in an attempt to hold himself together for her because, at that moment, she needed him to. 

Trystan chewed the inside of his cheek, watching her finally drop that veil and break down. 

With an arm wrapped securely around her and holding her against him, Liam cradled the back of her head with his hand and tilted his head, pressing his lips to her ear. “I’m here, love,” he whispered as she continued to cry into his chest. “I’ve got you.”

When he glanced up, Liam saw the misty eyes of the others as they stared at her … at the two of them. And in the next moment, he scooped her into his arms.

Croía tucked her head into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he turned and carried her into the cabin. 

***************************************

Perma Tags (if you’d like to be added or removed for this story, please let me know): @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @emichelle @sweetest-marbear @indiacater @gibbles82 @the-soot-sprite @esmckenzie @dcbbw @burnsoslow @deb-1106 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @foreverethereal123 @choiceskatie @sirbeepsalot @gnatbrain @openheart12 @sincerelyella @superharriet @queenrileyrose @aestheticartsx @kingliam2019 @indiana-jr @bascmve01 @rainbowsinthestorm @emkay512 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @forallthatitsworth @walker7519 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @21-wishes @appleone @tessa-liam @pixelatedpassion @malblk21 @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @forthebrokenheartedthings @nomadics-stuff @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#choices crossover #the royal romance #trr #choices trr #choices the royal romance #liam x oc #prince liam x oc #trr liam #trr fanfic #choices foreign affairs #blaine hayes #foreign affairs fanfic #crimes of passion #choices crimes of passion #trystan thorne #crimes of passion fanfic #trr au #trr au fanfic #choices trr au #cfwc fics of the week

[tabellae-rex-in-sui]

Best kind of historical speculation is looking at a historical figures who were a couple whose relationship was tragically cut short by one or both of their deaths and asking "If both of you had lived a full life, would you two still be on speaking terms by the end of your lives?"

#we like to think thay yes they would #but.... they are both obnoxious so who knows #look if Émilie had died a year or two into her relationship with V... #every historian would be gushing about how they were soulmates and true love and perfect and its so tragic and beautiful #we wouldnt have anticipated the affairs; the secrecy; the pregancy; the incest; the more affairs; the involvement of foreign heads of state #the... ehem libido incompatibility issues #shoutout to historical lovers who died tragically and never got to their mutual flop phase #Remember what V said: If Friendship marriages are a thing; then so are Friendship divorces ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ #temper your expectations in AUs folks; they may survive but they do NOT live happily ever after

[dwiankus]

Never dull when they are around

Their mind fascinating enough to be part of

#choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #foreign affairs #the phantom agent #murder at homecoming #blades of light and shadow #wishful thinking #mother of the year #hogwarts #hogwarts au #ravenclaw

[seraphdreams]

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? | GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. the campus power outage gives your sly classmates a proper chance to get to know you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, college au, dark content, kidnapping, use of toys, one (1) mention of “you cryin?”, vibrators / dildos, fearplay, eiffel tower position, blindfolds / restrictions, dubcon, squirting, double pen if you squint. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.0k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! happy friday thee 13th !! i know y’all remember me saying i wouldn’t write jjk anymore but i caved! so here’s my comeback to writing them , i literally can’t get gojo out of my head. as always, comment / reblog if you like it ! i’d muchly appreciate it ♡.

“isn’t she lovely, satoru?”

“fucking beautiful.”

a pair of crystalline-like eyes followed your bare figure down from your heaving chest to your lower abdomen where they settled on your glistening folds. you were spread open, laid against the armrest of the couch you were splayed across, hands bound taut by what felt like cheap, abrasive rope.

of the softer voice you had heard, its owner pulled out a silk piece of cloth from the pocket of his sweatpants, carefully binding it over your eyes, eluding your already subdued line of sight.

their mannerisms were recognizable, the two men who’d gotten you into that pathetic situation.

they were none other than gojo satoru and geto suguru from your foreign affairs class. prior to, you hadn’t shared much of a striking moment with them for their names to be ingrained in your memory, other than the times suguru would ask for a pencil, and gojo, a copy of the notes. it wasn’t until the start of the fall semester that you had grown closer to them.

they’d invite you to the campus’s library on account of needing you, /and only you,/ to tutor them, along with accompanying them to parties held by the school’s fraternity, and back to their dorm when things got boring — they took quite a strong liking towards you, despite your persistence on rejecting each advancement they made on you.

it wasn’t like you found them unattractive, or even unbearable. they just had more rumors than they could keep up with hanging off their reputation; rumors consisting of them switching girls much like they switch clothes simultaneous with how they weren’t particularly shy about their hookups, were among the ones you’d grown familiar with.

but, as the end of the semester grew nearer, you felt a need for excitement and a change of direction; especially in the form of gojo and geto.

“y/n?”

walking back from your overtiring night classes, the call of your name from a familiar voice whipped you straight out of fatigue. it was none other than the duo that seemed to follow you step by step, like puppies with their owner, as you turned around to catch a finer glimpse of them.

“hi,” your voice came out dulcet, and slightly hoarse. “why’re you guys out so late?”

“could be asking you the same thing.” suguru retorts, strands of long, inky black hair framing his mirthful expression. he had always been handsome to you, over six foot tall with sharp facial features that involuntarily caused him to exude an intimidating presence yet, he had a tame personality to back it up. there was a reason he was popular on campus.

he was also remarkably attentive when it came to you. suguru would make it a habit to check up on you from day to day, under the guise of morning texts and showing up to your dorm with limited edition beverages from your favorite cafe.

it wasn’t considered flirting if he was constantly referring to you as a “friend,” right?

satoru quickly came up behind him, resting his arm over the shoulder of the black haired man. he was donned in his signature style of attire, tinted glasses low on the bridge of his nose despite the sun being hours away from rising, which you had presumed was just his fashion choice. he looked better like that, anyway.

“i was just coming back from my night class. it let out early,” your words flowed airily into their ears, the tone cordial as ever.

it was the thing they loved most about you — your doe eyes, plump lips, and sexy curves that they’d fantasized about tracing every inch of with their tongues. you were too perfect, and far beyond naive. The ideal victim.

“pretty girls like you shouldn’t be out so late. it’s dangerous.” gojo held an emphasis to his last vocables, the warning you should’ve taken, yet brushed off as concern. because, of course it was. your friends were only “concerned.”

you nodded your head, lips involuntarily jutting out in a soft pout. “i know, i know.”

gojo was the rather flirtatious half of the duo, often opting to remind you of his undying attraction towards you that never seemed to get through to your glitter-filled mind. you were wrapped around his finger whether you knew it or not — you were but the final reward for him when having the others back to back failed to feed his salacious desires.

“you should swing by, though. satoru and i aren’t doing much,” geto spoke, looking at the blue-eyed man hanging off his side. “right, satoru?”

gojo perked up, a sly smirk making its way to his lips while he beckoned you closer with the movement of his fingers. “yeah, it’s friday. you deserve some time off, pretty thing.”

he wasn’t wrong. most of your time was spent dealing with school in which you barely had a moment for yourself. not to mention the fact that it was convenient, the commute to their dorm held less distance than it would’ve had you walked all the way back to yours. it worked out perfectly, for both parties involved.

with the mindless nod of your head and an “okay”, you made your way towards the two, and began to stride along in the direction of their place.

things were off about the duo, though, but not quite strange enough for you to think anything of it. the route was the same, some vacant corridor that always kissed your skin with its glacial breeze, leading to their hall, and down just a few steps was the doorway to their dorm.

as you patiently wait for geto to scan his keycard, the sensation of featherlight touch ghosting along the mast of skin that your tiny cropped top allowed to be exposed, shook you from your veil of comfort. you had come to realize it was gojo who took it upon himself to rest his hand on your lower back.

the world around you felt recognizable, yet you couldn’t shake the suspicion that deep down, something’s wrong.

the latch of the door beeped, signaling that it had been unlocked successfully, and with a sturdy hand, geto opened the door to allow for you and gojo to slip past while he kept his distance, treading leisurely behind.

satoru flipped up a light, the whole place illuminating immediately after. it looked different from the last time you came over, posters that littered every wall in the living space seemingly replaced by minute frames of artwork, all cohesive with the neutral nature of their dorm.

lit at the coffee table across from the couch where you decided to settle yourself at, was a single-wick candle that filled their air with its hints of fresh sage and amber musk.

“lemme take care of your bag,” suguru extended his arm out to you with a soft smile on his face. gojo sat down beside you, ridding himself of his glasses while you gave geto your tote. “i need to get something from my room so i’ll just put it on the bed that way you won’t have to worry.” he continued.

“thanks, sugu.” you returned his warm smile with a beam of your own.

gojo’s tongue clicked as he rolled his head back against the headrest of the couch. “marry her while you’re at it too, huh?” his tone is painted in vexation that wasn’t clear enough to distinguish between mirth or solemnity.

you heard geto chuckle as he made his way to the bedroom, waving off satoru’s comment. “wouldn’t hurt you to be nice every now and again.”

“you jealous, ‘toru?” you taunted to the ivory-haired man, relaxing further into the couch as his arm took purchase around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. “and if i am, baby? what’ll you do t’me?”

it wasn’t hard to get lost in his eyes, especially when they seemed to draw you in with that playful expression of his and kept you craving more of his attention. he’s so annoying.

you brushed off his query with an eye roll, turning your focus back to geto as he sat on the other side of you, a small box taut in his grip.

oddly enough, the soft whirring of mechanics died down along with the luminescence that filled the dorm shutting off, leaving the three of you in pitch black darkness, with only the faintest sliver of light emitted coming from the candle.

it painted an eerie picture, one that caused the pace of your heart to quicken as your body involuntarily tensed.

“oh?” suguru was the first to voice his mystification. he set the box aside, taking a haste look at gojo; which was more of a silent cue to the latter, reminding him of their true intentions.

what you assumed was geto’s hand over your thigh, diligently ran along the expanse of your lower half until its fingers curled at the hem of your bottoms. “aren’t we lucky?”

his touch was unfamiliar, nonsynonymous to you as the chivalrous suguru you knew. the sensation was weighty with lust, hungry against your skin, enough so to cause you to wonder.

“suguru, your—“

just as you were about to question the man before you, his eccentric best friend cut in.

gojo created the slightest gap of distance between your bodies, mainly to take advantage of the sight before him — geto working diligently to rid you of your garments, stripping you bare, safe for the thigh high socks struggling to contain the spill of your plush thighs.

“what? you afraid of the dark?” satoru’s teasing aided in affirming your suspicions. and the fact that you were utterly helpless, only sprung on his arousal as well. “we’ll take good care of ya.”

geto’s left hand found its place back on your thigh, more-so to spread your legs for the two. “you trust me, don’t you?” he smiled, that same smile that was painted over by an ulterior motive. he stood up, finding his knee in between your thighs, centimeters from your heat. “satoru, the rope?” he held his hand out for gojo, feeling satisfied once his request was fulfilled by his best friend, handing him the cord from the opposite end of the couch.

the words you wanted to say struggled to bubble up in your throat, rendering you speechless and anticipating. in one hand, suguru took both your wrists, tying them taut by the cable and stepping back to get a better view of your helplessness, specifically the way it leaked from your cunt and soaked into the cushions.

all the same events that explained the predicament previously mentioned.

after the unfortunate affair of being blindfolded, you felt lithe fingers drum at your clit. it was a teasing, rhythmic sensation that made it clear to you in the strongest way it could, that gojo was the one with reigns over your body now.

“our feelings are so hurt, babe,” his voice feigns offense, and although you couldn’t see him, you sensed that his signature smirk was etched over his features. and that, it was.

he toyed with your heat, running his index and middle fingers along your slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he could before sinking them into your hole. “you kept rejecting us in the past, but,” as his words trailed off, the pace at which his fingers pumped inside of you quickened. “we’re treating you fucking good, right?”

even though it was just two of his digits, the stretch that they’d allot to your hole was delicious, the tips of his fingers deliberately curling against your gummy walls, right at your g-spot which only made the shaking of your thighs worse.

“god—” you rasped, nodding your head. your heat made no effort in slowing the way it greedily sucked in his fingers. it was almost as if you were waiting for this, fantasizing how it’d be like to be one of their girls.

with every foolish thought came foolish actions.

satoru awaited your answer, speeding up to an impossible pace when you didn’t respond within his time bracket. “wanna hear you say it, baby. tell me how good I'm making you feel,” he demanded.

it felt as though your mind was going to break, the pleasurable mixture of sensations causing your head to spin and orgasm to build within you. you only allotted the fortitude for soft babbles, trying your hardest to conjure up something coherent. “f-fucking good! ‘s so fucking good!”

the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing vigorous circles over the bundle of nerves. “attagirl,”

wet squelches were sonorous in the air, so much so, that the students inhabiting the dorms just across the hall could probably hear the filth taking place at that very moment. not that it was something new to them — it was just another satosugu friday night.

you couldn’t take anymore, your thighs threatening to close around his arm, yet his free hand kept you spread.

“i think she’s gonna cum, satoru,” geto coos, leaning down beside you while watching as gojo edges you closer and closer to sweet release. “can you squirt for us, princess? make a mess?”

before you could retort, your release rippled within you, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. evidently, geto’s questions were answered instantaneously the moment you soaked satoru’s fingers with your essence. your chest heaved, your breath growing ragged just moments after.

if only you had the reins to see them — touch them.

gojo slipped his soiled fingers into his mouth, moaning at the saccharine flavor you left him with. if he could live off the taste of you alone, he’d know for sure that he’d die happily.

“are you really that sensitive?” suguru queried. in his hand was the concealed box, filled with toys; some that could vibrate, along with others that were clearly meant to stretch you out. he pulled out one of the thicker dildos, running it along your slit in paintstroke motions.

“do you think this could make her squirt just as fast?” his inquiry to gojo made it undoubtedly clear that they’d been plotting against you from the very start; it wasn’t just some spontaneous idea.

gojo’s focus was unwavering on the dampness seeping through his sweats, his palm rested atop his hard-on as he watched the pleasant sight of geto sinking the silicone into your hole. amidst satoru, he was concerningly gentle. he had kept one hand at your thigh, draw soft patterns while he kneeled between your legs to give himself a better view at how hungrily your cunt sucked him in. “‘toru’s always so rough, isn’t he?” suguru cooed,

you mindlessly nodded your head; it wasn’t like you agreed, but you were stuck between heaven and bliss, not knowing which felt better. whereas gojo was, albeit, impatient and loved to get the good parts, suguru was refreshing, like a cold glass of lemonade on a warm summer’s day. suguru started up a thrusting motion with the toy, building it up to a speed that had your back arching and thighs quivering under his hold.

“you’re so tight, darling. you a virgin?” his soft voice speaks out.

as you were about to respond, gojo’s large hands found themselves at your tits, kneading the flesh while his fingers tweaked at your stiffened nipples. “this virgin’s pretty hot,” satoru commented.

“n-not a virgin!” your reaction came in the form of a cry, seemingly at the increase of stimulation within your gummy walls, the tip of the silicone cock nudging so sweetly against your gspot that the nothingness of your sight morphed into white hot pleasure.

you had fallen perfectly into their trap — what would’ve taken a considerable amount of effort, and even thinking, was handed to them easily though the power of the gods; they’d be sure to thank them later for their service .. or maybe you will.

suguru removed one hand from your thigh, relocating it to dig aimlessly through the box. he was satisfied when he pulled out a tiny bullet vibrator, switching it on to the most mild level and gently circling it against your clit. “mm, i don’t think i believe you,” an amused smile etched on his features watching you squirm in his hold.

with pleasure stemming from the most sensitive parts of your body, it’s difficult to chase away the feeling of yet another, messy, mindnumbing orgasm. “geto..!” your whines fell to deaf ears, suguru hyper-focused on the way your puffy clit twitches underneath the toy. he knew you were close; anyone within a mile’s radius could tell that, and perhaps he was covertly evil, because the loss of stimulation that came soon after he pulled the toys from your heat was pure work of the devil.

he spoke up just as he switched his attention from your aching cunt to your heaving chest. “if you’re not a virgin you shouldn’t have any trouble taking us both, right?”

oh?

they were like that. you should’ve known — the two did everything together, it’d be foolish to deny the possibility of them fucking together.

your obstructed vision was finally restored when gojo took off your blindfold. he figured it’d be much better if you saw how you were about to be obliterated — and obliterated you were.

he took your hand in his, standing you both upwards.

you wobbled beside him, your legs feeling like jello from the insane amount of stimulation your cunt had to endure. “look at her, suguru. she can barely stand,” gojo teases. “and we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

he wastes no time in freeing his hard cock from the prison that was his boxer briefs. his length was long, bulbous head flushing a soft pink as beads of pre-cum dribbled down his shaft. he gave himself a few experimental pumps before turning you around and bending you over.

without the stability to keep yourself bent completely, you crashed into geto, who was no more than an inch away from your face. you looked up, sheepishly as he rid himself of his hoodie, faced with his toned abdomen.

“we haven’t done this position in a while, huh?” there’s a cocky smirk on geto’s face. one that was his own, yet it wasn’t the suguru you’d known.

since when was he the conniving type? did all his time with gojo finally rot his brain? or were you staring at a man you truly never knew?

suguru’s hand slipped just under the waistband of his sweats to free his cock. the tip tapped harshly against your lips before he took a firmer grip at the base to smear pre-cum over your already saliva drenched lips. “open up, pretty baby.”

instinctively, you slid your tongue around the head of his cock before suckling the sensitive area, only gradually taking in more. on the other end, gojo pushed himself into your core, letting out a low hiss at how eagerly your needy cunt took him in.

“she’s fucking tight,” he groans, squeezing at the plush fat of your hips while rocking his own into you.

“don’t get greedy now, ‘toru,” geto’s voice is soft as his hand in your hair gently guides you to take him deeper, up and down his cock. it’s evident you’re pretty damn good at giving head from the adoration in his eyes when he looks down at you, silvery orbs with hearts for pupils locked onto your vacant ones.

“what a well trained whore you are.” he praised, beginning to buck his hips up into your mouth, not rigorously, but enough to prod at the back of your throat and scatter tears to your waterline.

gojo slipped his thumb into your puckered hole while his thrusts became harder, with fervor. he wasn’t one to be patient nor hold back, especially when it came to someone like you, with a pussy so tight and moans so sweet, he’d have to break you just a bit. where’s the fun in that if he doesn’t?

his balls slammed against your clit, creating a potent string of pleasure to course through your body. throbbing was pertinent within your walls, each drag of his cock along the ridges inside you posing you weak from the shocks of euphoria. a hard slap came crashing down at your ass, gojo’s sizeable hand repeated the motion occasionally to watch the way the flesh rippled.

your moans were muffled by the intrusion of cock getting fucked into your mouth. the room reverberated in an array of messy skin slapping in tandem with groans and whimpers. it was music to their ears, a song they’d want on repeat if it were possible.

“shit.. ‘m gonna cum,” geto’s dulcet tone alerted. you watched in pride at how the muscles of his lower abdomen flexed in the onset of his orgasm. his rhythmic thrusts faltered, morphing into a resonance of scattered heavy thrusts that led him closer to his orgasm until he eventually jettisoned his seed into your mouth. the taste wasn’t as bitter as you were used to, it was almost pleasant and you swallowed every drop before he pulled out ever so slowly, his chest rising and falling while his cheeks were dusted in a soft rose flush.

“you were so much better than i imagined,” his fingers wrapped around your jaw, gripping ever so gently as he bent down to messily kiss at your lips, groaning at the taste of his orgasm on your tongue.

“yeah, yeah. good for you,” gojo started up in his usual bratty tone, sounding more guttural than his typical self. “can finally cum in her without you messin’ me up.”

suguru was used to gojo’s sharp tongue, his complaint not seering as deep as it would’ve had it been their younger years.

whorish moans slipped past your lips, your balance wavering as gojo picked up speed. he was far deeper inside your plush cavern, hitting at the spongey spot with precision that had your whimpers turning into babbles. “s-sho good .. you fuck me sooo good,” gojo took amusement in your slurred speech, pulling you up by the waist until you were completely upright.

it felt as though he couldn’t reach any deeper, yet he did, the feeling spreading all over your body, you were almost 100% certain that you could feel it in your ears. tears had filled your waterline and came cascading down your cheeks before you could even establish what it was. satoru held you close, your bare back pressed against his chest. it was an overwhelming feeling, one that made you lax enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

he smirked, gripping your chin with his fingers to get a better look at you.

“you cryin’?”

that familiar sensation bubbled up within you, what had felt like your nth orgasm had come in blissful surges, his cock coated in the translucent milky essence of your release.

with haste, you were fucked through aftershocks and overstimulation as satoru chased his high.

he had stamina for days, having built it up through multiple one night stands, and yet, he wasn’t quick to pull out like his counterpart, no. there was something of love that came with cumming inside you.

the skin of your thighs clung together with a mixture of your cum and his as he pulled out of your twitching hole. you stumbled a bit, getting back grounded on your feet, the two men tucking their third legs back into their garments.

a flickering noise was sounded from the building, different from the soft flickering of the candle that was beside you. quickly, the surgance of electricity illuminated the dorm, bringing much needed light to the situation at hand. you looked down at your bound wrists before the rush of embarrassment washed over your being once you had taken your naked, used body into account.

gojo carefully whisked you both back onto the couch with you sitting on his lap. “guess our fun’s over, huh?” he pouted, unbinding the rope that rubbed uncomfortably against your wrists. you weren’t exactly sure of who his rhetorical query was aimed to, and you would’ve spoken up had your throat not have been aching from the constant whining or even the pounding of a thick cock fucking bruises in the cavern.

geto was now situated behind the couch, leaning over the both of your figures.

“over? she’s spending the night.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @ryukatters @dabibreeder

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #geto x reader #geto x you #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo #suguru geto

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L’Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

#⋆ 🪷 A ROYAL AFFAIR ! ˚ ༘ * #👑 TSCC — series. #★ driaswrld #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #arlecchino #lyney #furina #you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic #trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually! #I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew #anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks #also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth #furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road #arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11 #shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay #hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS #ehe :] #is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!! #shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies #anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D #also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty #bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat.. #reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay #they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more #a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)

[bigfatbimbo]

I'll see your human!vox doesn't want anybody to know about his submissive role in a relationship and raise you: everybody at the office already knows, and they just don't bring it up. Vox is the one signing their paychecks, so they'll turn a blind eye to just about anything. But the reason everybody knows, is that Vox is a LOT more vocal than he thinks he is. Or at least he's not as quiet as he thinks. They would've thought any businessman having a "private meeting" with their hot secretary was gonna be sex anyway, but now it's just confirmed when they hear Vox's voice through the wall "Ohh, fuck, yes, right there, please...Faster, oh, god--" so they all just go about work as usual, pretending their boss isn't getting his ass mind-blowingly fingerbanged at 9 AM on a Tuesday. And when Vox walks out, straightening his hair and adjusting his tie, everybody just acts like they didn't even notice he was gone. This makes Vox think "oh fuck yeah, they didn't even notice. I am SO GOOD at this office affair thing. I could write a book on this shit" and he straight up dies before he finds out it was EXTREMELY obvious that his secretary had him bent over his desk all the time.

-@hazblog-hoetells 💚

I like this idea and i’ll tell you why ☝️🤨

A human Vox au would obviously take place in the 1950s and so not only would a dominant women be foreign to him [i’ve already talked about that aspect] but so would the idea of getting pegged or finger fucked like oh my god!!

Proposing that as an idea to him would have him choking on his coffee and ruining his paperwork. Like he’d say no at first. Until one day in his office he practically begs for it, because yes, he’s been thinking about being fucked by you ever since.

And so like finger fucking him hard and good while bending him over his desk until even his hand can’t cover his whines for more as he drill into him.

The idea that the entire office knows he’s submissive is fucking hilarious. He’s in charge of them, clearly, and as long as he’s paying them good they don’t have any reason to snitch or giggle at his sex life.

But I do think that’d be more possible a situation in hell than in real life 1950s. Because of period standard sexism, lots of respect would immediately be lost for Vox and some nark-ass man would probably snitch to a superior that he’s having relations with his secretary.

So carefulness would have to be key in this scenario. But the idea is fucking hilarious so like..

No because he’d think he was being so slick that he wouldn’t even be suspicious of people knowing, even when he walks by and earns some chuckles. He’d be that confident.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #dom reader

[jedi-enthusiast]

My [completed] CodyWan Fic Masterlist

This is going to be a very long list of all my favorite CodyWan fics that are completed. Later on today or tomorrow I'll make another list for all of the CodyWan fics I enjoy that are currently ongoing/incomplete (because we, in fandom, need to start supporting authors during the writing process instead of only after, but that's a whole other post).

The fics are gonna be separated by Modern AU, Canon-Divergent/Canon-ish, Crack, and Canon But a Little to the Left. Full Disclaimer: this is going to be a very long list, so the triggers and descriptions will be brief--make sure you read the tags and warnings before reading!

I don't know who these authors are on tumblr, so I can't tag them, but I recommend that you guys tag them if you recognize them--because they deserve all the love <3 and I think, especially now, we need to let fic authors know that we appreciate them.

Modern AU

212th Street Coffee by thosewhowanderwithfire 

Cody runs a coffee shop, Obi-Wan comes in frequently with a different members of his friends/family and Cody learns a lot about his crazy life by eavesdropping.

bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by stormwarnings 

Obi-Wan's family life is messy, to say the least. Cody and his family work as firefighters/EMTs/etc. and Obi-Wan kinda just gets adopted into the family by constantly needing to call the firefighters/EMTs/etc.

Coruscant Story by TyeDyeBoogers

A mafia AU thing where Obi-Wan and Cody are both in different mafia families, but then they date each other pretending to be regular normal people (bc neither of them know they're in the mafia, much less different families), and then a bunch of stuff happens and drama ensues.

TW: Murder, Violence

cradle my name on your tongue by jynx 

Running from an abusive ex, Obi-Wan and Anakin move to a small town where they set up their tattoo and piercing shop. Obi-Wan quickly falls for Cody, the florist across the street, but bad things happen when Obi-Wan's ex just won't give up.

TW: Violence, Abusive Relationship, Drugging, Attempted SA (this doesn't go into detail, but it's still there)

Foreign Affairs by ro_moray 

Obi-Wan and Anakin come to America as foreign ambassadors, Cody is one of their bodyguards. Both Obi-Wan and Cody fall head over heels quickly, and there's some political drama via Maul.

TW: Violence (I think?)

Hey Bartender by Wxlves 

Obi-Wan and Cody both work as bartenders at Dex's, they become FWB, and feelings ensue.

I've Served My Time In Hell by TheSleepingOne (SleepingNebula) 

There's a zombie apocalypse going on and Obi-Wan is repeatedly fucked over by the universe in the form of being forced to spend time around his ex, Cody, and Cody's very protective family.

TW: Violence, Gore

Liminal Beings by ChubbstheFish 

Cody is the lighthouse keeper in a small town with his family. Obi-Wan and his family move into said small town and become close with Cody's family, but it quickly becomes clear that Obi-Wan and his family aren't exactly what they seem--aka human.

Not Denial by spqr 

Obi-Wan is a PI and Cody is the sorry moron who falls head over heels for him after meeting him exactly once.

TW: Violence

Seeker Prospector by brigitttt

Cody is a bounty hunter looking for his father, Obi-Wan is just trying to study dinosaur bones. The two meet, fuck, and then catch feelings.

TW: Violence, Mild Gore (I think)

We’ll Do This Together by MageOfCole 

Obi-Wan and Cody have a one night stand and Cody accidentally gets Obi-Wan pregnant (of the trans variety, not the a/b/o variety). Obi-Wan tries to hide this from Cody and his family, but Obi-Wan's family doesn't know how to mind their own business. Family hijinks ensue.

What…a sleep over? by Wixiany

Cody's family decides to host a party, but he needs to study, so he heads over to Anakin's brother's house to get some peace and quiet. He wasn't ready for how pretty Obi-Wan was.

You Gave Me the World that I Wanted by Legogirl22 

Cody has to take care of his family, so he swears up and down that he won't fall for the cute bookkeeper he keeps seeing. He fails. Miserably.

Canon Divergent/Canon-ish

A Ghost or a Man by smallandangry 

Obi-Wan makes a life for himself on Tatooine, eventually Cody finds him, and the locals get attached to both.

A New Life by cwiptids 

Rex and Echo hear about a clone on Tatooine...guess who they meet and take another guess as to who they're married to.

end of the road by adiduck (book_people)

Obi-Wan and Cody spar before Utapau and make unfulfilled promises.

Glimpse Of Us by fingerstripesofchaos 

Post-Order 66 angst fic, just like...loads of angst. This is not a happy fic at all, it made me cry.

TW: Suicide Mention/Reference

Haven’t Felt Like This My Dear by Bluebellstar

Cody gets a hangover and is a total baby about it, Obi-Wan is very amused.

little white truths by imperiousphasmid 

Obi-Wan gets injured and only family and spouse(s) are allowed to see him...I think you know where this is going.

Made by Walking by piotsa  

After Order 66, Quinlan finds Cody and then Cody finds Obi-Wan.

not dead yet by keylimemagpie (QuickSilverFox3)

✨ smut with emotions ✨

Our children our future (that we didn’t know of) by Feniksiara   

After Order-66 Cody finds out that the Kaminoans decided to use Obi-Wan and Cody's DNA to make Force-sensitive clones...then the Mandalorian dad genes kick in.

Standard Operating Procedures by galateaGalvanized

A mission goes wrong and suddenly almost the entire 212th is in love with Obi-Wan...except, it appears, Cody. Y'all know exactly where this is going.

all the world in my arms by biscuityskies 

Obi-Wan has nightmares after Kadavo, then shit goes to hell on a mission, and Cody worries--also Anakin and biscuityskies' OC Hex are little shits.

where the fields are painted gold by biscuityskies

The 212th end up crashing in the forest, so Obi-Wan and Cody get some "camping out in the forest" cuddles and also banter.

night spar by cabezadeperro (minigami) 

Obi-Wan and Cody spar at night, and there is a lot of tension. Not of the fun kind, though.

chain of command by cabezadeperro (minigami) 

Obi-Wan and Cody are undercover and eventually have to find some way to keep the people tracking them from finding them. If you've watched Marvel, you know where this is going.

In the Treetops by ebw_writes499 

After a mission on Kashyyyk everyone needs to go to bed, which they do...all the way up in the trees.

Caretaker by ebw_writes499 

On Tatooine, Cody gets sick and Obi-Wan has to take care of him. Obi-Wan is a worrier.

Love Despite the Distance by ebw_writes499 

After the war, Cody and Rex comm each other to catch up. Also Cody became a senator against his will.

Overworked by ebw_writes499 

Obi-Wan and Cody both had the same idea and that idea was "sneak off to take a nap."

Compartment Syndrome by elwenyere 

After a bad crash, Obi-Wan is knocked out and Cody is injured. Cody carries Obi-Wan through all the danger while reminiscing, certain that he'll be decommissioned after due to his injury.

TW: Mild Gore? (of the "description of injury" variety)

Good Soldiers by elwenyere 

A story about Obi-Wan and Cody throughout the War and after Order 66, with a happy ending.

Don’t Worry It's A Very High Threadcount by goldleaf1066 

Obi-Wan uses a blanket to warm up instead of Cody and Cody is very fussy about it. It gets a little angsty near the end, but things end good.

And Our Faces Toward the Sun by goldleaf1066 

The War ends and Cody and Obi-Wan share a kiss.

I'll Bend Your Light Around Me (A Sunrise At My Back) by goldleaf1066   

A sweet little story about Obi-Wan and Cody throughout the war, with a happy ending!

Stepping In, Stepping Out by goldleaf1066   

Cody and Obi-Wan take turns covering for each other when they oversleep.

With Both Our Hands Around It by goldleaf1066

Obi-Wan and Cody discuss their relationship while also participating in some extracurricular activities.

Crack Fics

Compulsive Honesty by afoundling 

Cody, Obi-Wan, and some of the 212th get dosed with truth serum and just have to let it run its course.

Fools and Idiots by BehindBrokenWindows 

Somehow everyone gets it in their heads that Obi-Wan and Padme are fucking, and Anakin is not happy when he finds out. We all know who he's really fucking.

Operation “who’s kriffing the General” by Sweet_bubbs 

Everyone finds out that Obi-Wan is in a relationship with someone, but they don't know who--but boy do they want to find out.

Resignation in more than one sense by BitterChocolateStars   

Obi-Wan tries to resign, Mace is a little shit (affectionate) and says no, and hijinks ensue.

Time to Celebrate by Kurosaki224   

Kurosaki's OC just wants to talk to his superiors after the war and ends up seeing a lot more than he wants to.

Rex finds out by The_neurodivergent_nerd   

Exactly what it sounds like.

The Trickster by The_neurodivergent_nerd  

A long dead Sith lord has a great sense of humor.

Canon But a Little to the Left

closed together by numbika 

Obi-Wan is blind AU where Obi-Wan and Cody get stuck in an elevator together.

I Got My Head Checked by frostbitebakery   

Sith Obi-Wan AU where Cody falls in love with Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan changes the course of the War because Cody and his brothers make him realize he still has his heart.

TW: Violence, Self Harm (of the "making a sith" variety)

Marriage in Disguise by bjjones   

Oops! Looks like to make peace with Mandalore, the Jedi will just have to send Obi-Wan to get married to Cody, son of Manda'lor Jango Fett. They totally weren't dating before this.

We’ll Meet Again by little_dumpling

Obi-Wan doesn't become a Jedi Knight and instead works in the MediCorps and becomes a doctor, then he ends up meeting Cody on Geonosis.

TW: Medical Gore (I think?)

What came after by galateaGalvanized  http://archiveofourown.org/works/29595831 

Obi-Wan has gone full Sith and is on Mandalore, Cody and the 212th go to get their general.

#ao3 fanfic #star wars #codywan #fanfic #sw prequels #the clone wars #codywan fanfic #codywan fic recs #fic recs #holy shit this was longer than I anticipated #this took me like 2 hours to put together so y'all better be grateful #possibly triggering

[comfortless]

what if König does see his knight being more ladylike? or maybe even in a dress? sorry they’re just so cute i love this au lol

you are never getting her into a gown… not ever.

except at a special event (:..?

There’s a summons for König and the lady knight to attend a ball. At the castle, no less. The sheet of parchment dents weighty in her hand as she tugs it free from the message board at the center of town— a list of names, hers and König’s included; quite high, too, above even dukes and duchesses from foreign kingdoms and a wonderful knight who had braved an attempted siege and won the King victory.

It makes no sense… they’re essentially hired thieves, roaming through caverns of filth filled with the dead, stealing what’s never been their own and never will belong to them for profit. There’s no honor in their work, despite the way she puffs her chest in pride and so often declares that one of these expeditions will earn her a seat at the royal table.

Still… they had retrieved that object for the Queen, and it seemed the materialistic royalty deemed that well and good enough to consider them worthy.

König is unperturbed— he’s never been one for these formal affairs, dressing up in a tight fitting suit of ruffled fabric, chest adorned with a shimmering brooch and his blade kept tucked away far out of reach. His knight on the other hand… Her face is practically glowing, he’s never seen her smile so wide or so sweetly.

Of course… she doesn’t have some silky gown to her name, only cold steel and endless straps… not even a proper corset. König can’t help but notice her pout when they begin to prepare. Though he thinks she’s pretty, perfect even as battle-worn she is, it’s clear she wants to be more so as she stares longingly out of the window of the inn at all of the beautiful ladies riding on horseback to approach the castle gates, their gowns each as intricate and immaculate as the braids and curls and lengths of their hair.

He doesn’t get it- he’ll just go in his normal clothes, but like any proper suitor would do… he buys her a gown from the tailor a few buildings past the inn. The most expensive one he can get his paws on with the hoard of gold they collected from their last adventure. (Who knew slaying a few reanimated skeletons to give a cursed femur and jaw bone to an old witch could count as a job?!)

The dress is certainly… tailored to his preferences: it’s a lacy thing, dyed a shimmering bluish gray, creamy lace trims along the cuffs and hems, the collar dipping down into a ‘v’ to properly frame her tits. He didn’t expect it to be any lovelier than what his imagination supplies when she does put it on, and yet he finds himself utterly stifled by the sight.

He’s seen her nude, pawed at and groped her hundreds of times, but as she stands before him shyly lifting the dress at her hips and glancing at the wall, the floor, anywhere except from directly at him… his pulse begins to race. Of course, he picks her up and buries his face against her neck, whispering about how pretty she is, how much he adores every new side of her, and promptly ruins it by detailing how he would like to tug her laces loose with his teeth later in the evening after the dancing is all over. She shoves him away, hissing like a startled kitten but he’s certain she casts him a little smirk the moment that he does relax his grip.

The ball is no less extravagant than she had expected. Food and luxury wine adorn every table: cheeses, fresh baked bread, smoked meats and pies, fruit of many kinds, and the wine all sweet and bitter and so very unlike the thick mead that burns as it goes down that they’re accustomed to. The dresses, the elaborate dances, the beautiful sounds of music feathering through the air- all of it. She even gets to drink from a goblet made of silver, and her eyes light up when a servant fills it to the brim.

König despises it all.

He tucks himself away, flooding himself with food and the few gilded pitchers of actual ale he’s managed to threaten a servant into retrieving. He notices the eyes on her always, as she dances with the other ladies and smiles adoringly over at him each time their eyes meet. Her grace translates well here from battle, each step taken with some extracted precision that she’s learned from flailing her blade around in the darkness… her partners giggle against her ear as they curl their arms around her, many adrift to either side waiting for a turn.

It’s only when a man does approach his lady knight that König’s had enough. She’s tipsy and far too cute, stands out like pure treasure amongst this adoring flock, and the bastard’s eyes are on her breasts when he asks her to dance. The other man is yanked back by his scruff and tossed to the marble floor, eliciting startled gasps and even… some sweet sighs from the women surrounding as they fawn over how romantic it must be that a brute like him wouldn’t allow another man near her.

His knight only smiles at him when he leads her away, out of the grand hall and down the corridors of the castle until they find themselves before a window that seems to overlook the entire kingdom. The music still plays, the voices still chatter, but they’re all muffled and subdued someplace far away… and König only feels the world seem to come to a grinding halt when she asks him to dance with her here.

He doesn’t have the same tact or skill as the others when he moves: swaying her in a grip like iron ‘round her waist, dipping with her when her back arcs that almost leaves his face flush with her chest. It’s clumsy at best, far less flowery and sweet than when she danced with the other women, but he tries his best to not entirely ruin her night— unaware that she’s far too drunken and giddy to care. She wouldn’t have batted an eye if he had snapped that man’s neck, if only he rewarded her patience with a dance like this.

They meld together, a perfect fit when she stands on his boots and drapes her arms around his neck to press her chin to his chest. The frolic comes to a quiet end as they whisper back and forth about what happens next, after tonight. When the sun rises and they’re back on their feet… He swears to her that they’ll buy a horse, subtly hints that the offer to settle will always be present and she only shushes him with a kiss, one that she laughs into as she tastes the ale on his tongue.

Those strings are, in fact, loosened by his teeth as she lies on their shared bed with him later into the evening. He traces every dip and curve of her body through the silk as he works away at relieving her of the gown, then the corset with slow, precise movements and tugs. She laughs again when he hisses praises from behind her, licks and nibbles a hot path along her skin, rests his head against the smooth flesh of her back when the corset finally lays to either side of her.

His fingertips graze from the back of her neck, to her shoulder, further along the middle of her back before he stops himself. Despite the near constant ache, this isn’t how or where he wants this done: in some rundown inn outside of the castle, her veins flooded with red wine. Instead, he only pulls her close in a cuddle, massages at her tits as she thanks him for accompanying her, for dancing with her despite his gait being more like a newborn foal than a proper stallion.

And when the moon finally reaches a peak in the night sky, her breathing slow and soft while she rests her head against his chest, he kisses the top of her head and pulls her in closer. Tells her that he likes either side of her, knight or lady it mattered not, so long as she remains at his side like this.

She nods to her own damnation, contentedly swearing her oath to him with one word, “Forever.” It comes in a soft murmur, eyelids already fluttering as he squishes her closer against him.

#dungeoneer!könig #happy valentine’s day have some silly fluff ^^

[anjaelle]

Hello darling 💙

Would you consider writing for Count Vronsky from Anna Karenina?

Pairing: Count Alexei Vronsky x Foreign Socialite!Reader Warnings: Borderline Toxic Infatuation, Vintage Slow Burn, (almost) Infidelity Summary: A foreign born socialite/heiress visits a friend in Russia and meets a straight up demon. For @bettytaylorversion (AU where Anna doesn't go back to Vronsky and chooses to stay with Karenin.) Word Count: 2.3K a/n: I remember that Tolstoy made this character so straightforward that you can kind of play around with him as much as you like without changing much about who he is at his core. I can't be left to my own devices. That being said, I don't want purists yelling at me. So I hope everyone takes some of my choices here with a grain of salt.

--x--

Everything about Russia felt intimidating to you: the language, the size of the country, the power of its military, and the show of their aristocratic wealth. You were wealthy. But this was a different kind of wealth. You came to visit your close friend who was another socialite that you met through overlapping inner circles. It'd taken you a while to accept the invitation as you weren't sure how kindly they'd take to a foreigner.

You understood some of the language based on what your friend taught you, but you still weren't confident enough to converse in just Russian. Instead you opted for French, which seemed to work well enough. You knew your native language was a lost cause. While some people in the parlor were polite, others had no interest in speaking with you. A small number seemed interested in you and your home country. Or maybe they just noticed your Very New and Very Parisian wardrobe with your collection of gifted jewels. They decided you were important enough to talk to.

When she introduced you to Count Alexei Vronsky, an officer in the army, you felt her grip on your elbow tighten just the slightest bit. You knew about him. She told you all about his affair with the married woman from Saint Petersburg. You weren't sure how you pictured the man. She said he was handsome, but you lived in a world full of beautiful people. How much different could he be?

That was a terrible miscalculation. The minute he met you, he watched you with the intense interest of a fox stalking its prey. You felt your cheeks warm and your heart thud when he pressed his lips to your gloved knuckle. You averted your eyes when he rose from his bow, not really wanting to convey anything uncouth about the interaction.

The first time he found you alone, you were in your friend's library looking at a map pinned to the wall. He told you about every country he'd lived in, every country he'd traveled through, and which ones he'd be eager to see soon. When you pointed out your country on the map, he licked his lips and an easy smile graced his beautiful face.

"I suppose I have no choice but to come see you now." He said in his thick accent.

You realized, then, that he reminded you of angels you'd see painted on the walls of grand, gilded churches. You told him that you and your fiance would be happy to invite him to your engagement party.

"Hmm." he said, eyeing the map. "Fiancés..." he finished the statement in Russian, so you couldn't understand him.

Before you excused yourself to go find your friend, his fingertips gently grazed the back of your hand, stopping you in your tracks. "Your fiancé is incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful, clever woman."

The second time he found you alone, you'd been exploring the estate and decided to rest in the garden among the wildflowers. As you raised your face to the summer sun, he made his presence known by clearing his throat, causing you to jump to your feet in surprise.

"Good afternoon, startled rabbit." He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at him.

"How long have you been standing there?" You warily asked, anxiously adjusting your skirts and brushing the grass from your hair. He cocked his head, studying you, "Long enough to notice that your beauty in parlor candlelight cannot compare to how alluring you are in the light of day."

It was interesting to see him dressed so casually compared to the night before. You wondered what he was still doing at your friend's estate when you knew he had a home of his own. You quickly glanced at her window to see the curtains still closed.

When you boldly asked him if he'd been watching you, something akin to amusement danced across his face, "You like the idea of that? Me watching you?"

"I have a fiancé."

He took a step closer, "That doesn't answer my question."

“You didn’t answer mine.” You countered, looking him square in the eye.

That wasn’t particularly ladylike, and you weren’t sure how anyone would react if they happened upon you and Vronsky standing so close in the garden without a chaperone.

As if reading your mind, he glanced down at your lips, then his eyes fell lower to your bodice. Your engraved gold locket rested on the top of one breast, with your fiancé’s initials glittering under the sun.

“I wasn’t watching you. I was…preoccupied.” His eyes met yours again and you felt like you’d been splashed with icy water. “Your husband—my apologies—your fiancé…he is a man of means? That necklace of yours is exquisite.”

You weren’t stupid. He didn’t care about the necklace. “That is a very inappropriate question to ask.”

“So he is not a man of means.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Who gave you that necklace?”

“Why does it trouble you to know?”

“You deserve a better one.” He murmured. You were unsure if he was still speaking about the jewelry. His fingers ghosted over the exposed skin of your forearm, "I could do that for you. If you wish." You took one large step back and glanced again at your friend’s window to find her watching you both suspiciously.

For the remainder of your stay in Russia, your friend treated you coolly. Though she was kind in private, she wasn't as warm in the company of others. Specifically, in the presence of Count Vronsky who seemed eager to appear more often during your stay and even more eager to get you alone. You reminded yourself that it was a temporary trip, and that you'd be back at your father's estate--and back in your kind fiancé's arms--in no time.

"It's truly fortunate that you're betrothed," your friend said as you gathered your belongings to meet the carriage in the courtyard, "or it'd be a shame to see your name added to the Count's incredibly long list of jilted lovers." There was an edge of bitterness to her tone, but you chose not to bring it up. Instead you marked it as an incredibly odd ending to an otherwise enjoyable trip.

A month later, you nearly fell down the stairs when your father called you down to the foyer to greet his newest client who arrived that morning from Russia. Count Alexei Vronsky bowed as you descended, but you could see the mirth dancing behind his eyes when he righted his posture behind your father's back.

"He says you spoke extensively about my craftsmanship. He felt compelled to come by the shop for his own fitting while he was visiting!" Your father exclaimed merrily, pulling you in for a kiss on the forehead, "My brilliant girl. This will do wonders for us. I knew I could count on you."

Sure, you had spoken highly of you father's tailoring and shoemaking, because as popular as your father was it never hurt to expand the reach of his influence.

That being said, you were sure Vronsky wasn't there for that conversation, and you never continued any form of contact after you departed Russia. You assumed he learned about where you lived through mutual friends. You swore under your breath when your father left you alone to get his sketches from his workshop in the east wing of the estate. Vronsky eyed you briefly, then redirected his interest to the art and artifacts decorating your home. Ever the son born of Russian ice and stoicism, he looked out of place in the warm atmosphere of the home you grew up in.

"Your country is beautiful," he said, arching a dark brow, "a bit too hot for my liking. Though, it is nice to see you in your natural element. I don't think wildflowers like you belong in the comparative cold of a Russian summer."

You felt like you were being tested, but you decided that there wasn't much he could do in the confines of your home. He was, after all, in your territory. Your shoulders relaxed and you chanced a small smile his way, "You'd be surprised to know how resilient I can be."

Surprisingly, he laughed, "I don't think I'd be surprised at all. I know you better than you think I do."

You felt like you'd regret it, but you decided to ask anyway.

"What do you mean by that?"

He began to stroll through the hall of your foyer, pausing every so often to examine a portrait or vase as you trailed behind him.

"You attended your fiancé's nameday feast a few years ago. Of course, he was not your fiancé, then. He was merely your father's apprentice and a quite talented shoemaker from my country who moved and quickly fell in love with...your country." He chuckled to himself at a joke only he seemed to know. "I remember you. I remember that you were an absolute vision in white, and you danced with everyone in the room. Though you were incredibly quiet when you weren't wrapped up in the melody of the orchestra." He glanced over at your confused expression, fighting a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, "Like I said: startled rabbit. Always quiet. Always watching. I remember the way your dress hugged the delicate slope of your shoulders, and the way your necklace caressed your neck. That may have been the first time I craved to exist within the confines of a jeweled pendant. And though I was otherwise...occupied with someone...I do remember the way you consistently laughed when he whispered things to you. A kind gesture, as he's never been that funny."

"So you know him. You were there that night." You whispered, feeling chills running up your arm.

"I was," he shrugged, stopping again at a more recent portrait of you and your father, "as was my duty as his elder brother."

You felt your heart stop in your chest and your brain short circuited. Your fiancé never told you about any siblings, let alone an elder brother. You knew your fiance's father was possibly dead, and that his mother raised him alone in Russia. Was he lying about his life? You weren't sure what was conveyed on your face, but Count Vronsky turned to address you directly.

"My father was not an honorable man. He forbade us from speaking to my half-brother or acknowledging him. Of course, Father is dead now, and God hasn't struck me down for disrespecting the wishes of a dead man. This also isn't the first time I've ever sinned." He grinned widely at you and took a step closer, though you were too shocked to move. "From the minute I saw you, I knew I had to have you. And every time I've seen you since, I regretted not stealing you away for myself."

"That doesn't make any sense..." you murmured, hiding your anxious hands behind your back, "I've never met you before. I'd know. I'd remember."

"You make your presence known at those silly little soirées the ladies have. I never stay for very long, but I've always..." he took another step closer and you realized you'd been backed against a pillar, "I've always noticed you. Dancing. Laughing. Drinking. Sometimes smoking. Does your father know you smoke?"

You glanced down the hall over his shoulder, and in a small voice that surprised you, you whispered, "I don't always do that."

"Mhmm." He reached out to run his warm, slightly calloused fingers along the chain of your necklace, stopping just before the pendant that rested in the valley of your cleavage. Your chest involuntarily heaved, and your knees felt weak, "What other bad things do you 'not always' do?"

You parted your lips to attempt something sharp, but instead you swallowed hard and said, "I'm to be married."

"But you are not married." He was so close, "Do you know how badly I've wanted to come see you since you left?" You could smell the sweet wine of your country on his tongue as he whispered lowly to you, "The thought of his hands on you made me want to abandon all of my obligations to cross the sea. Did you think of me?"

Your gaze fell to his lips, slightly stained red, and then back up into his piercing blue eyes. God, he was beautiful. He caught the action.

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Your eyes betray you, wildflower." His hand grazed your hip above your skirt, and his lips ghosted over your own, "I thought about you every night. I think about how you'd look spread out for me on those expensive sheets your father bought you. Waiting for me. And you're wearing that charming necklace my brother gave you while my tongue is deep in that sweet little--"

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Vronsky swiftly turned away from you to examine the nearest vase again, as if nothing happened. You hadn't realized that your hands were grasping your skirt in your fists and that you were squeezing your thighs together.

You realized then that it'd been so long since you were last touched.

When your father entered the hall, he shot you a curious look before handing Vronsky his latest sketches.

"Here you go, young man. Let me know if these are to your liking. We can begin as early as tomorrow afternoon."

The blond shot your father a charming smile and bowed graciously, "Thank you for taking the time to help a stranger on such short notice."

The conversation sounded like white noise in your ears as you willed your heart to slow down. Even as you composed yourself and released your skirt from your hands, you still felt out of sorts.

When he turned to you and bowed again, he rose and allowed his eyes to trail down the length of your body.

"Always a pleasure to see you again."

#count vronsky #count vronsky x reader #aaron taylor johnson #atj x reader #it's taken me sooo long to edit and re-edit this i'm so sorry #thank you for waiting #jae writes

[ghouljams]

During all the nonsense that Dr. Love/Prof Ghost, the "one-sided" flirting between Soap and Moon, and confusion that is Price and Witch, there's Gaz and Birdie. Are they practically married already in the college AU and is Bug still buzzing around?

Lmaooo Price and Witch are confusing. Are they together? Are they flirting? There's a ring on Witch's finger one day and not the next, Price has a picture of her accidentally flash on screen during a lecture but no one can figure out what that means. Sometimes they eat lunch together. Everyone envies both of them, no one knows what they're jealous of exactly though.

Birdie and Gaz.... hmm. First off Bug absolutely is still around, they crawl around Birdie's education lectures ehen the babysitter cancels and play with their blocks, or are strapped to her back. She's pretty open about Bug being a donor baby, but generally doesn't talk much about her personal life. There's not much overlap between early childhood education, and foreign affairs so no one bats an eye when Bug shows up in Gaz's lectures.

"Sorry, babysitter flaked," he grumbles, wrestling his clicker from Bug's grip. He's also pretty open about being a father to his partner's kid. They have photos of each other on their desks, and hung up in their offices. I think it's common knowledge that they're together, but they also don't have much reason to cross paths. If you're in Birdie's last class on a Friday you might have Gaz walk in at the end with Bug to give her a ride home.

They don't have the intrigue for students that the others do, but they definitely are the like "couple goals" couple. They both have fairly robust Instagram pages eith lots of family photos and sappy captions. Gaz is constantly hyping Birdie's pics and every photo Gaz posts has a "that's my man" from Bridie. If you go to any big university event they're there together, and you're left to wonder if Gaz physically cannot keep his hands off her and that's why their buildings are on opposite sides of campus.

#ghoul speaks #x oc #cod x oc #oc: birdie #kyle gaz garrick #professor au

[ao719]

Vancross

Vancross - Through the Darkness (Chapter 21)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.  

Title inspiration: Wake Me Up - Tommee Profitt & Fleurie

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Thanks to @burnsoslow for prereading! Please excuse any errors.

A/N 2: Since this is more of a filler/check-in chapter, I made it a submission for @choicesflashfics, using prompt #2. Fair warning, our girl Croía is not doing well 🥲

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Word count: 2468

Catch up here

•Three Weeks Ago•

Standing on the balcony of her room, Croía wiped the tears from her cheeks as she watched the last rays of the sun start to disappear behind the horizon. When she made the choice to come home, being told she was going to be forced to stay was not something she had anticipated. 

Considering the way she’d been treated growing up, Croía thought they’d be happy to be rid of her, but at dinner that night, her mother informed her that she had “more important plans” for her. When she returned to her room, she saw a few stacked boxes at the foot of her bed, and when she opened them, she found all of her belongings from her room at Vancross. She rushed to her nightstand where she’d put her phones, knowing she needed to reach out to someone, but they were gone. 

When her eyes shifted to the waves crashing against the jagged rocks below, Croía searched her muddled mind for some way out, but with no way to contact anyone and knowing there was no way for her to leave, panic clutched her heart. 

Gripping the concrete balustrade, Croía dropped to her knees and a sob escaped her as one thought crossed her mind: Liam. 

•Two Weeks Ago•

After a meeting with her mother to discuss exactly what was expected of her in the coming weeks, Croía was escorted back to her room. The meeting was one she remained completely silent throughout. In the week since being told she would be staying in Drakovia, she remembered why it was better to just keep quiet. 

After being told that she was being named heir and was being forced to take a husband of her mother’s choosing, a husband who would end up with more ruling capacity than her to ensure she couldn’t ruin their plan — a plan she still knew nothing about — Croía became something she’d never been before: defiant. When she was summoned to meet with her mother, she refused to go. Her mother then came to her and an argument ensued, but one forceful backhand across the face that knocked her to the floor was all it took to remind Croía of where she was and exactly who she was dealing with. 

Once at her room, Croía stepped inside as the two guards who’d escorted her took their positions on either side of her door. She was their new assignment. If she left her room, they followed. When she was in her room, they were stationed outside. 

When she shut the door, Croía went to her balcony and finally set free the emotions she’d been holding back for the last hour; shuddered breaths escaped her as did her tears as she leaned against the balustrade. 

At that moment, Croía couldn’t help but think of Liam, not that he was never not on her mind. She wondered what he was doing … what he was thinking. They were back on campus now. Knowing him, she was sure he had tried to reach out, but after a week of silence on her end, did he think she just chose not to return without a word? 

Was he worried? 

Was it possible he reached out to Trystan and Marguerite, and if so, were they trying to figure out what happened to her? 

If they could figure it out, would they find a way to get to her? 

What if she never saw or spoke to any of them again? 

Croía choked on another sob as she tried to take in a breath; she stood upright, wiping the tears from her cheeks only for them to be replaced by more. Her eyes then shifted to the rocks below. 

What if she was stuck here forever? 

No. She couldn’t be … she wouldn’t be. 

Nothing good could come of these plans her mother had, and Croía didn’t want to be a part of whatever they were. As she stared down at those jagged rocks, watching the waves slam against them, she knew that if all else failed … there was, at least, one way out. 

•One Week Ago•

Sitting inside the great room with her parents, Croía stared off, not paying much attention to anything they were saying. She wanted no part in the discussion they were having about the upcoming masquerade ball where her mother planned to choose a suitor for her. Why she was summoned to be there for the discussion was lost on her; she was nothing more than the pawn they were trading off to the highest bidder. She’d been diminished to nothing but an object … a duty … a plan. 

Croía had been in Drakovia for a month and she was losing all sense of herself, becoming a shell of the girl she had been before arriving. She was beginning to lose hope that she’d get out of this, and because of that, she was cold and distant, not that anyone there noticed or cared. And those who she thought would care — Alia, Liam, the other friends she’d made at school — she’d been told to forget them … just as they’d forgotten her. She was told no one had even reached out, and when she shook her head in disbelief, she was shown her phone; there were no missed calls, no messages. There was nothing. She swore her mother took pleasure in delivering those blows to her. 

Yes, Croía knew that her mother could have easily gained access to her phone and erased any truth, but there was an insecure voice in the back of her head that made her question everything, and it only got louder with each passing day. 

Was she right? 

Had they forgotten her? 

Had they come to their own conclusions of what happened and simply carried on? 

All of those thoughts and more kept filling Croía’s head, unable to get that doubt-filled voice to be quiet, and none of it was doing her state of mind any favors. 

Croía was pulled from her daze when her father stood from the sofa and excused himself; she watched him leave the room just as Lydea entered.

“Since you’re both here,” Lydea said to her mother and sister as she approached them, “we should go over some protocol for the night of the ball.”

Croía stood as she let out a breath. “I’m tired. We can do it another day,” she said as she started for the door.

“You’re here now,” Lydea bit out. “So we can do it now.” 

“Another day,” Croía repeated. 

“I wasn’t asking,” Lydea said as she darted toward her, grabbing hold of her wrist. “We will do it now.” 

Croía turned, meeting Lydea’s narrowed gaze. “The last time I checked, you’re the head of the royal guard and I’m the Crown Princess. I don’t take orders from you. You take them from me.” She yanked her wrist free from her sister’s tight grip and turned, disappearing into the hall. 

Lydea’s brows rose in surprise as she turned to her mother. 

Viktoria was smirking at the door, almost impressed by her youngest’s curt attitude. Almost. Croía had a ways to go, but something was finally starting to break inside her, and in order for it to last and for her to become a semblance of what she needed her to be, she would need to continue to push her to that edge. She lifted her cup of tea to her lips, meeting Lydea’s gaze and shrugging as she took a sip. 

•Present•

Standing on the alteration platform inside the palace boutique, Croía stared back at the floor-length mirror, focusing on the reflection of her own ice-blue eyes; she couldn’t help but notice how the light that had been in them the last several months had all but vanished. 

Croía was trying to keep her attention off the gown she wore because every time she glimpsed it in the mirror, her chest tightened, her eyes stung, and her anxiety spiked; with the ball less than a week away, she was more on edge than ever. The gown wasn’t her — black with a barely there illusion neckline and lace appliqués in shimmering gold on the bodice that led into the top of the skirt. Leave it to her mother to want to parade her around in something like this; she felt like a piece of bait. 

“We’ll have to take in the waist again, Your Highness,” the seamstress said as she rose to her feet after checking the hem. Upon hearing what sounded like a hint of worry in her tone, Croía glanced at her in the mirror, watching as she pinched the bit of loose fabric at her sides and gently pulled it against her body. 

The first time Croía tried it on was only a few days after that regretful dinner. She’d taken in the waist two weeks ago by just a small bit, but now it needed to be taken in again. 

Croía only offered a silent nod in response to the woman’s words. The seamstress offered a sad smile in return before turning to her supply table. 

When the door to the boutique opened, Croía stiffened at the sight of her mother and Lydea. She schooled her expression into impassiveness as they approached her, both taking in the details of the gown.

“A little loose, don’t you think?” Lydea asked as she pinched the loose fabric at her sister’s side. 

“I’ll be taking in the waist,” the seamstress replied. “I need to go grab some more pins. I’ll be right back.” 

As the seamstress stepped out, Croía met Lydea’s gaze in the mirror, and she knew she had to be truly losing it when she swore she could have seen a flicker of concern in her eyes. 

“It’ll do,” Viktoria said as she circled her like a vulture. “She’ll at least look presentable, yes?” 

“She’s standing right here,” Lydea gestured to her. “How do you feel about it?” 

Croía dropped her eyes to the floor, focusing on the hem of the gown in the mirror. 

“Well?” Viktoria asked as she came in front of her and crossed her arms. “You can be honest. What do you think?” 

Croía lifted her eyes to her mother’s. She knew it was a rhetorical question; she could hear the threat in her tone and see it in her body language. But if she was giving her an opening for honesty, she was going to take it. 

“I think I don’t want to do this,” Croía said just above a whisper as she held her mother’s stare. “Any of it.” 

“You’ll be securing a husband and, eventually, the crown,” Viktoria scoffed. “What’s not to want?” 

Croía softly shook her head. “I don’t want either,” her voice cracked, shattering her impassive mask.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Viktoria’s painted red lips. “Oh, darling, I hope you’re not still holding onto any hope for you and Liam.” Viktoria moved to her back, meeting her gaze in the mirror as she leaned closer to her ear. “There is nothing more painful than watching the person you love give up on you, is there?”

Croía’s lip imperceptibly trembled as she stared at her mother’s reflection through her blurring vision. 

Did he really give up? Possibly. 

Could she blame him if he had? … No. 

“He’s probably moved on from whatever insignificant thing you two had,” Viktoria said as she stepped back. “Because that’s how he sees you … insignificant. I suggest you do the same and let it go.” She turned and strode out of the room. 

Lydea stared at her sister for a moment, watching her fight to keep her composure before she turned and followed her mother. 

Once alone, Croía bowed her head as a quiet sob escaped her. 

****

That evening, Croía stood on the balcony of her room with her vacant eyes fixated on the rocks below. It would be so easy, she thought. As a fresh tear slid down her cheek, her hands curled tighter around the balustrade as she leaned forward, really taking in the drop below. 

It was beginning to feel like the only way to out. 

Maybe it was. 

A knock on her door startled Croía back, and she let out a shuddered breath as she snapped back to reality. She wiped her cheeks as she turned and stepped inside, headed for her door.

When she opened it, Lydea stood on the other side, having momentarily dismissed the two guards who were usually there. 

“What?” Croía asked tersely.

“I wanted to check on you,” Lydea said.

Croía’s brow knit before a derisive laugh bubbled out of her. “I’m sure.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“Don’t pretend to give a damn.” 

When she attempted to close the door in her face, Lydea stuck her polished boot in the threshold, and Cro��a pulled the door back and met her gaze. “Do you think I like seeing you like this? Do you think I find enjoyment in your misery? I don’t.” She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. “I know this isn’t what you want. I know you don’t want the crown or this arrangement, but it’s nothing more than a game of politics.”

“My life is not a game,” Croía bit out. “And I’m not suited for this. For any of it. She doesn’t even believe I am and she never has. She’s made that perfectly clear over the years. I’m only here because I’m her last chance because there is no one else. I’m just a pawn in whatever game this is that she’s playing and I want no part of it.” 

“Croía—”

“If you meant what you said, then get me out,” Croía interrupted, and Lydea took in a breath as she stared back at her. “Please, Lydea,” she whispered in a plea as her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t … I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I’ve never asked you for anything before … but I’m begging you now … get me out.” 

Lydea continued to stare at her, and when Croía sensed her hesitation, she felt a spark of hope … but then she shook her head. “I can’t do that,” Lydea said. “They’re our monarchs above all else, and as their head guard, I swore an oath to them, Croía. I have a duty to uphold.” Croía deflated as she dropped her gaze; she should have known better. “I … I’m sorry.” With that, she turned and opened the door, shutting it behind her as she disappeared into the hallway. 

Croía went to her bed and laid down, curling into herself at the center. Fisting the duvet in her hand, her tears began to fall again as Liam’s face flashed through her mind. 

***************************************

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[stop-ugly]

SIGN AND REBLOG TWO PETITIONS TO PROTECT LGBT+ IN RUSSIA

Due to the recognition of LGBT+ as an "extremist organization", "Sphere Foundation" launched the petition calling on foreign countries that have signed international human rights conventions to ensure that visas and travel documents are obtained for LGBT+ people and specialized human rights defenders from Russia.

Human rights activists emphasize that recognition of LGBT+ as an "extremist organization" will lead exclusively to mass repressions against LGBT+ people, especially those who publicly advocated for the LGBT+ community.

The petition is addressed to the Ministries of Foreign Affairs of EU member states; UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Volker Türk; EU commissioners.

There's also the petition "Erleichterte Aufnahme von Trans*Personen aus dem Ausland vom". There are only 15 days left and trans people need 46000 signs! I know it's sounds impossible but we can't give up on lives of Russian trans people. You can sign this petition from any country so please do it and boost it! You can ask me if you need help with filling out forms. We only have time until 18.12.2023!

Summarizing:

Click here if you think queer people should be able to escape from homophobic country where they can end up in jail for years for being queer

And click here if you support Germany simplifying reception of trans*people from abroad where they can't have surgery, take hormones, change their documents, get married etc

#gay #trans #lesbian #bi #bisexual #ace #asexual #nonbinary #intersex #agender #gender #lgbt #lgbtq community #lgbt pride #lgbtq #lgbtqia #germany #russia #queer #queer community #politics #wlw #mlm #россия #лгбт #petition #РоссияБезПутина #голосуйте против путлера на выборах 17.04.24

[witch-hazels-musings]

Chivalry

warning: princess!reader, knight!character (slight AU* Prince and Princess) | sfw | slight hurt (due to different social statuses, arranged engagements,etc), comfort* (happy ending yayayay) | forbidden love | pre-relationship | character perspective 

citation: *song lyrics - Just for Now, Michael Crean

Knight!Diluc x fm reader | anthology (Albedo, Kaeya, Jean - coming soon)

Diluc

He knew every assignment wouldn’t be enjoyable. As much as he’d prefer to be wandering the plains of Teyvat searching for those who would do his Kingdom harm, it wasn’t possible. Still, out of all the knights, out of all the assignments, why did it have to be this one? 

Diluc sighed and did his best not to roll his eyes as he watched the Princess he was sworn to serve finish her discussion with a foreign dignitary. As the eldest of daughters, she was tasked to handle foreign affairs as well as the kingdoms resources while her younger sister and brother were able to be more free in their day to day. The older brother, the Prince in line for the throne was not well liked which made Diluc assume his sister would be the same. She wasn’t. 

Still, Diluc found most of his time was standing off in the corner while meeting after boring meeting was held in the castle. He’d once climbed the coldest mountain in the land and, honestly, that sounded far more enjoyable than listening to another Fontainian talk down to the person whose patience knew no bottom. 

“I understand you are frustrated by the swiftness of our response,” you said, hand moving to rest against the ambassadors arm. Diluc noted how his face flushed at the contact. “I cannot guarantee we will solve each problem, but rest assured I will not let a day go by without checking in and assessing how we can continue our support.” you bowed slightly and smiled. 

ugh, the tediousness of talking to diplomats, Diluc frowned at it all. 

Once the ambassador left, you wandered back to your seat to gather the notes, forms, and other documents you’d ultimately review until passing out in your room. Dark circles were starting to appear under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. He made his way to you, picking up the stack of books before you could. 

“Is your schedule free?” He asked, twisting slightly away from as you tried to grab the items he picked up. You were stubborn, but so was he. 

“Yes,” you said and sighed, “but not for long. The Favonius knights have requested more arms, and the masons require stone for the eastern wall. I didn’t get to these yesterday, so I’d like to attend to them before dinner.” Settling the items in your arms, you did your best to push the hair that continued to brush against your cheek away with puffs of air. It wasn’t working. 

“Do you not think it is better to rest?” If his superiors were around, they would shame him for speaking so directly. ‘Royalty is to be tended to like a fragile flower, otherwise they will be tarnished,’ he could hear his mentor recite all the while forcing the knights in training to hold 40 lbs barrels over their head. 

You looked into his eyes before moving on to appease him. “You always look after me, Sir Ragnvindr. I’m alright,” you smiled but he could see the exhaustion in your expression. A fragile flower, yeah right. “Anyway, I’m sure you’d much rather be beyond the castle walls.” You reached for the books he was holding, “I know being my guard isn’t very exciting, so please don’t let yourself be trapped for my sake. I can manage to make it back to my room without incident.” 

Your hand touched his on accident. Quickly, you pulled back, apologized, then tried again. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped the items in your arms, adding them to his. 

“S-Sir Ragnvindr!” You protested as he made his way to the door. He was much faster due to his long legs. Diluc couldn’t hide his smirk as he heard you rushing after him. It must have been hard to keep up in a dress as decorated as yours. “Please, it’s too much --” he stopped in front of the door only to feel you bump into him. When he twisted to look, he noticed you cupping your mouth and nose. He swore he saw a dab of color on your cheeks. “Sir, I cannot ask you to --” 

“And yet I can ask you to carry all of this?” He cut you off and watched the implication of his words settle in your mind. Diluc wondered if you disliked the rules and expectations of royalty as much as he did. After all, before he was a knight he was a nobleman - he understood the pressure of this world better than most. 

Deflated, defeated, you backed down. “If you insist.” He could tell you hated being doted on. In every interaction he’d seen between you and an attendant, you were always respectful, helpful, and often insisted upon doing the task yourself. At the end of the day, who could deny the eldest princess her request? Well, other than him --- “But as soon as we get back I can --” 

You were cut off by a voice down the hall. If it was possible for the walls to have ears in this castle. 

Diluc watched as you prepared yourself, stepped into the hallway and greeted the stranger. They were one of the Prince’s scribes, and a rather annoying one to boot. Diluc had a bitter taste in his mouth every time he showed his face. There was just something about the way he looked at you ... 

“I was informed you were free,” he said with his head lifted as if to look down on you. 

“That is the case, but ...” 

“Do come with me then. I have work for you to attend to since it seems you cannot get them done without a watchful eye,” he reached for your wrist and Diluc moved before realizing it. With one step, he was in between the both of you but his cold gaze was seen only by one. The man’s hand retreated so quickly it was like Diluc’s proximity had burned him. 

“The Princess has other priorities at this moment.” 

“How dare --” 

“As the Princess’s guard, I am to ensure she can fulfil her duty to the kingdom.  Do you not think the Ambassador of Fontaine would be surprised to find his request delayed yet again because the Princess was pulled to another task?” Diluc stared the man down, commitment unwavering. He heard you start to say something so he stepped further in front of you. 

“How da- I -- I’ll be speaking to your superior,” the man spat before turning on his heels and loudly walked back the way he came. Diluc didn’t move until he was out of sight. 

“Sir Ragnvindr, you didn’t have to go that far,” you expressed as he turned to face you. Your head had dropped, your eyes looked to the floor while your fingers pinched their neighbors. “I will write a letter to Mrs. Gunnhildr explaining the situation.” 

Diluc wasn’t sure why you were looking after him, he was capable of standing up for himself and dealing with whatever punishment might come his way. Besides, it was bound to be far less painful than watching you spend any amount of time with that man. 

Wait ... what?

“Don’t fret over it. Let’s go,” Diluc quickly passed by you, his head shaking to remove his strange thoughts. He heard you catch up to him. From the corner of his eyes he could see you were still unsettled by what had happened. 

“I um - I do want to thank you.” 

“For?” 

“For standing up for me. I - um - As you know it’s hard for me to say no,” you sent him an appeasing, sad smile. “Though I do feel guilty. Perhaps if I -- ah! Sir--” 

Diluc put his hand against your back and pushed you forward just enough so you couldn’t turn around. “Don’t make me carry you too -” The words fell from his mouth so fast he had to snap his lips closed to not say anymore. 

What in Teyvat was coming over him. You riled him up so much-

You let out a hearty laugh and his heart skipped a beat. “Haha! That would be a sight to see,” you covered your mouth but he wished you wouldn’t. “Sir Ragnvindr carrying the Princess through the halls of the castle. Can you imagine?” 

He could imagine. Though the sight wouldn’t be pretty, nor proper, since the only way he’d see that happening is if he tossed you over his shoulder. Nevertheless, he was glad you were laughing at the idea rather than being appalled. Diluc put his hand back on the items he was carrying now that he knew you weren’t going to rush back down the hall. 

For a moment he listened to the sound of your footsteps, to the soft giggles echoing in the hall. Why was the weight of his armor suddenly so noticeable? 

“You can refer to me by my first name,” Diluc said as your laughter started to fade. 

“Oh, but Sir Ragnvindr is so natural to me.” You tapped your chin before turning to look at him as you walked, “Sir Diluc --” 

“Just Diluc is fine,” 

You paused, unsure of what to say. Eventually, you turned to look down the hall, hands returning to hold onto each other. He wasn’t sure what was going on in your mind but, honestly, he wouldn’t have been prepared even if he did.

“Diluc ...” the sound of his name on your tongue nearly made him fall over. Instinctually, he clenched his jaw over and over again. “Um, actually, if it’s alright with you, I think I’ll stick with Sir. Ragnvindr for now ...” you explained in a panic.

Diluc didn’t dare look at you. What expression would he have it he met your gaze? So, he gave a curt nod and a quick, “Alright,” and the two of you made your way down the hall in silence. 

-- 

Every once in a while you’d try to push him away. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because you needed a moment alone or if his wistful gaze toward the window drew too much attention. Out of the two, he’d much prefer you the latter, especially since his other stare was directed at you.

Weeks went by and he settled into a nice routine. It was difficult when he first arrived, but you asked him on several occasions if there was anything you could do to make his stay more comfortable. Even the smallest things; you did your best to get him what he asked.

Diluc didn’t want for much, so your offers were often left unanswered; however, he did notice a steady supply of grape juice in the kitchen when he was sure there hadn’t been before. He only mentioned it once.

At times he'd forget himself. Forget that he needed to hold an expression of disinterest. Forget to pull himself back when he was starting to soften each time his eyes landed on you, each time you stood close by, each time you turned to search for him.

You found him and he could breathe again. 

He was forgetting how very high the wall was between the two of you and every day he spent in your shadow, it became blurrier and blurrier. 

--

“I’m going to win!” You shouted, hair wiping around your face as you pushed forward. The horse you were riding picked up its pace with a flick of the reigns, pushing you past Diluc. How did he end up racing you again? 

You cackled as you passed by and he couldn’t help but be swept up by the noise. With a deep, “hya!” he squeezed his thighs and tapped his horses belly, urging it to increase its speed. It did, and soon he was rushing past you and laughing at the sound of your fading protests. 

When the path began to taper out, Diluc slowed his horse bit by bit until it was at a standstill. He patted its neck and praised it for its hard work while it raised and lowered its head, breathing heavily. Twisting so he could see behind him, he found you making your way toward him and your voice began to cut through the thicket of trees. 

“---er! --eater!!” You reigned your horse in, coming to a soft canter until stopping beside him. Panting, you repeated yourself, “cheater.” 

“I did no such thing,” 

“You did!” Patting the neck of your horse, you moved up beside him, punching him in the leg when you were close enough. 

“Hey-” 

“Cheater--” You pointed at him, making him laugh. Carefully, he took your hand his his and moved it back toward you. 

“Did you forget I’m also a Calvary Captain?” You scrunched your face in protest but quickly relaxed into realization, “Hah, you did!” 

“Shut up--” Diluc laughed, louder than he had in so long. His hand pressed into his stomach and his eyes began to water. “Stop it --” you pleaded, the notes of laughter laced in your request. “You hardly ever talk about yourself. Sorry for not remembering something you told me almost a year ago.” You turned your head away from him, moved your hands to fix the hair that had fallen free from its holding. He found himself looking a little too long at the back of your neck. 

“I don’t mean poke fun,” there was a stick in your hair but you didn’t seem to notice it. “Here,” with expert skill, he dismounted his horse. In a matter of seconds he had the reigns looped around a low hanging branch and had made his way over to you, his hand resting against the horses neck to let it know he was there. The horse bumped his head and he smiled. “Allow me to help,” he said, offering you his hand. 

“Don’t need it,” you replied, fixing your clothes. You were wearing a pair of form fitting pants and a dark green top that pressing against you underneath a warm, cream vest. It was one of the only times he’d seen you not dolled up in what your maids forced you to wear every morning. He liked it. 

Ignoring his hand, you began to dismount but, as he had expected, it’d been a while since you last rode so you weren’t as graceful as he was. Your hand on the saddle slipped but he was there to catch you. 

“Got you,” he reassured you with an arm wrapped around your back, a hand gripping the waist of your pants before pulling you toward him. Your body collided into his chest. The heat of contact, the wave of your perfume, shampoo, crashed into him causing him to stumble backward. He’d caught whiffs before, hints and hypothesized about what it would be like. He never anticipated becoming overcome by it so intensely.  Diluc held you while your toes scraped the ground, arms coiled around his neck for support. 

Let her go -- he told himself but couldn’t do it. 

“S-Sir Ragnvindr ...” your voice was shaky. He set you down and took several steps back, bowing. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, tone even, professional. 

“Mmhm,” he glanced at you. His jaw clenched at the sight of your discomfort. You wouldn’t make eye contact with him, began to wring your hands like you did when you were uneasy. He wondered if his teeth would break by how hard he bit down. Without saying anything, Diluc grabbed the reigns of your horse and brought it over to his. “Um, that ride made me hungry,” you began so he looked back to you, “those trees provide good shade, if you’d like to eat with me? I brought enough for the both of us.” 

“Alright,” he agreed without protest, grabbing the pack off his horse and brining it to the place you pointed to. You quickly laid out the blanket, taking up space near the tree. He was glad you did, it would be much harder for anything to attack you with it at your back. Diluc offered the basket to you which you took and began to put several items on a plate. Soon, you offered one to him.

“I tried to bring things you’d like,” Diluc looked at the plate. He wasn’t planning on eating anything but when he saw several of his favorite items, he changed his mind. 

“I thought you didn’t remember things about me?” He teased, a rare occurrence.

You pursed your lips into a pout before answering, “I can remember some things.” 

“I see.” He popped one of the finger foods into his mouth. The taste wasn’t exactly the way he imagined but it was still good. “Thank you for requesting these, Princess.” 

“Y-You’re welcome,” you replied, making your own plate. “but - um - I made them. So, if they aren’t very good you don’t have to eat them.” 

Diluc looked at you with awe, “you made these?” you nodded, “when did you find the time?” 

Shrugging, you took a bite of your own food. “I had a spare moment. Though it was hard to keep it a surprise when you’re always around.” You stole a peek at him, “Are they good?” 

Diluc felt his lips curl into a smile as he looked at the food on his plate. Now that he gave them a careful eye, he could see they were done by novice hands, “Very,” he told you and ate another. 

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the picnic in quiet peace. Diluc leaned back against another tree, let his body stretch out on the blanket while you maintained your trained posture. Legs bent to your side, back straight. The wind tussled your hair, making it difficult for you to review the paperwork you brought. Of course you’d still be working, even outside of the confines of the castle.

Soon, a soft hum drifted on the breeze. Peeking through half-closed eyes, he watched you sing to yourself. He’d seen you do it times before but, just as you did then, you stopped. “Sorry,” you appologized. 

It was so comfortable, so relaxed that he couldn’t help but close his eyes. The horses were close by that if they sensed anything he could hear their agitation. The woods had been cleared prior to this excursion anyway, he made sure of that - perhaps that’s when you found the time to make him lunch.

Funny, while he was scouting thinking of you, you were thinking of him. The thought made his chest tight. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not proper.” 

Who told you that? He wondered. “I’m the only one here.” 

“Somehow that doesn’t help,” you chuckled and he swore your cheeks changed color but maybe that was the light passing through the shifting leaves above, “um, do you have any requests?” 

You’d never asked him before. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Your favorite one then?” 

“Okay.” The world grew quiet. As if it were settling to listen to your song. When you began he lifted his arms, folding them behind his head like a pillow, eyes closing again. 

Take me And I will fix you for the night Hold those breaking lights Dreaming past those eyes

feel me  breathe me to the sky ... 

The song was gentle, sad. He’d never heard it before so he paid careful attention to the words.

So scream Your voice it can't be heard To no one else but you So sing as loud as rain And run until you break

Diluc’s brow furrowed at the sound of your trembling voice, at the motion of your hand as it brushed over your eyes. You tried to keep it in but didn't make it. Your hands covered your face as you cried; cried in the wind, cried under the sunshine sky, cried in front of the man who realized, in this moment, he never wanted to see you this way. 

And yes Just for now Just for these small hours You can fall beneath the ground You can break...

...without the pain

You cried, bent over in the shade of the tree and all Diluc could do was watch and wonder why.

--

A few days later he learned the truth. Your brother had convinced the king to accept a proposal for your hand without consulting you. Somehow this was still endorsed, still expected. You were forced to accept it but Diluc couldn’t. 

He rushed through the halls practically burning the tapestries that lined them. He didn’t even wait to knock on the door to your inner chamber, he just opened it, freezing when he found you sitting on the couch as if this were any other day. 

It wasn’t any other day to him. 

He wanted to fight, wanted to yell, wanted to free you from your station. He swore to protect you, to shield you. So how could he let this happen? Diluc was in turmoil - every inch of him was struggling; strangled by the expectations of his duty and his devoted heart. 

When you heard him enter, you looked up from the paperwork on the coffee table, eyes puffy, swollen - how much had you cried today? 

“I wasn’t expecting you, Sir Ragnvindr,” you explained, but the tightness in your throat told him you were suffering. How terrible was this suitor? What archaic laws shackled you to him and not ... 

Diluc made his way toward you. 

“I’m sorry but I’d like some time a-alone,” your voice cracked. He didn’t listen. With ease, he knelt on one knee before you. His eyes searched your face until your red-tinted eyes landed on him. “P-please,” you tried to smile, tried to pretend but he was okay if you didn't. He rested his arm on his knee and touched your fingers. Biting your lip, you looked at him and shook your head. Your breathing became unsteady, tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m alright,” you lied. With every tear-drop you lied. A quite sob escaped your throat so you covered your face with your hands and said the one thing you shouldn’t have, “Diluc --” 

Diluc, going against everything he was taught, everything he swore to uphold, to commit to, opened himself and took you against him. His arms wrapped delicately around you, his hand found the back of your head, fingers weaving in between the strands of your perfectly brushed hair. 

“I’ll fix it,” he vowed, knowing he couldn’t. 

-- 

The following weeks dragged by. Preparations for your engagement were planned. Even though you were in the room when the decisions were made, you gave no opinion on them. Not the flowers, not the dress, not the food which you had little interest in lately. It seemed all you could do was devote yourself to your work and nothing else. 

Diluc lay awake at night thinking about how to solve this problem. What could he do to break off the engagement. Surely he could take drastic actions - what was a life of imprisonment if you could be free? His step-brother told him to be patient, be rational, but his heart refused to let him. He was spiraling, and jealousy was right in the middle of it all. 

Agitated, he lifted himself from his bed and made his way to the door that led to your chambers. On the other side you were sleeping, safe, untouched by anyone. He pressed his forehead against the harsh wood, gripped the doorknob with so much strength he worried it would bend to his will. He wanted to see you, wanted to hold you - to keep you - but you weren’t his. Would never be his. 

Shaking, he pried himself away, threw on a shirt, and made his way down the hall to cool off. 

On the other side of the door, you sat with your knees to your chest, head resting against the wood with eyes flooded in tears as you silently cried in the color of the rising sun. 

--

The day of your suitor arrival had finally come. You did your best to smile, to hold yourself high. You’d practice these skills for so many years but Diluc could tell you were struggling. As you rose from your chair to greet the man who’d soon be your husband, Diluc took a step closer to you hoping to ease your anxiety.

“Your majesty,” he bowed, low and proper. His smile was unsettling, his eyes darted around the room until they landed on you and the flash of excitement Diluc saw in them made him drive his claymore deeper into the ground. “Ah, and my beautiful fiancé,” he took several steps toward you so you extended your hand as far as it could go to create space. Diluc was enraged at how familiar he was; grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it. Rubbing your arm without a care. The man flashed his eyes to Diluc but Diluc didn’t turn away. 

“Welcome to the Royal Capital, Prince Calmin Velena. I’m sure you are tired from your journey. Please do take --” 

“I am eager to hear of the wedding plans and celebrations, your majesty,” the man interrupted you, his hand still holding yours as he pulled you toward him and the king. Diluc had to restrain himself from cutting that hand off. “Am I to be boarded next to my sweet Princess? I do wish to spend as much time with her as possible,” he glanced back at you and, instinctually, you tried to retreat toward Diluc. 

“Prince Calmin, do understand that while you are in our kingdom, there are certain, etiquettes, that must be followed. You will have your own room in our guest quarters. They are lavishly furnished as you will find.” The King gestured to an attendant who appeared suddenly before the group. With a scoff, the prince released you allowing you to go back to your original spot. Diluc watched how your hand shook as you hid it behind your back.

You can’t protect her if you kill a prince, he reminded himself. 

“Yes of course, then I will retire for now. Until then,” he turned and blew you a kiss before following the attendant out of the grand hall. At which time you collapsed into your chair. 

“Daughter --” The King rose from his seat, moving toward you but before he could continue, your brother got in the way. 

“Father, don’t mind her, we have much to discuss.” The King looked at you and you shot him a desperate look. A pleading, ‘please’ to which he closed his eyes and followed after your brothers persistent pushing. 

When they left, you tried to stand but found your legs unsteady. Diluc noticed, offering you his hand, never taking it away. 

“I feel unwell,” you whispered while other attendants moved about the room. 

“Let’s away for now,” with ease, he pulled his cape around you, blocking you from the eyes of the would-be onlookers. You tucked yourself under his arm, brushing against his hips every once in a while. 

Would this be all he ever had? Fleeting, accidental touches while that rat had the rest of you. The thought made his chest burn, blood boil.

Diluc looked at you, vowing to ensure nothing but his presence could get close. 

--

Every interaction he saw the two of you have made him furious. Prince Calmin was disrespectful to you. He flirted with others in front of you, talked down to you as if you were nothing, second guessed your decisions and even tried to take over your duties. The amount of times you had to quell the fires of the ambassadors because of his stupidity -- it was giving Diluc a headache. 

Complaints were passed to the King but your brother always managed to stop them. Somewhere in the back of Diluc’s mind he suspected foul-play. Why was this man being pushed so hard when - even if he hated to admit it - there were other, better suitors out there. Just what was your brother playing at? 

Diluc did his best to investigate, asked his most trusted to assist him when he couldn’t. The day’s to your wedding were drawing closer so he didn’t dare leave your side. Not while that snake continued to slither his way into places he wasn’t wanted. 

Several nights before the wedding, Diluc heard your voice on the other side of the shared door. You sounded upset. When he went to investigate, he found Prince Calmin pushing his way inside your room. It took all of his strength not to break every bone in his body but - luckily - the prince backed down, running away as fast as he could, and you were able to quell the rage in him by reassuring him you weren't hurt. 

Even still, Diluc spent the rest of that night in front of your door. 

What nightmares would await him in the next few days. What nightmares would befall you that he couldn’t stop. He needed a solution, fast. 

-- 

The day before the wedding came, and while others were celebrating in high spirits, you did your best to keep your mask up. Even though you smiled and acted pleasant, people were noticing that you didn’t stand in the middle of the room like brides often do, didn’t raise your glass to the toasts wishing you well, didn’t react when your fiancé touched you. 

You were like a statue. A commodity. And your faithful knight was forced to watch. 

“Hey there,” a familiar voice broke his concentration. His brother, Kaeya, had slipped into the festivities without an invitation, as customary. 

Diluc stood with his arms crossed in the dark shadows of the grand hall. Eyes locked on your ‘would be husband’ - searching for the slightest movement that would allow him to end his life.

If he hurt you, would the king pardon the knight sworn to protect the princess? He clenched his jaw. 

“Did you find anything?” Diluc asked, desperate. Kaeya could sense it too and let out a sigh. 

“Just tell her you love her.” 

“Kaeya -” 

“Perhaps a kings heart can be swayed by the profession of true lov-” 

“Did you find anything?” Diluc barked, causing Kaeya to throw his hands up. 

“Alright, here,” Kaeya offered a roll of papers to Diluc who snatched them faster than lightning. “You’re senses are always spot on ya know - well, except for where it counts.” 

Diluc read the papers over and over again. When he was done, he looked at Kaeya.

“I’m good, what can I say?” Kaeya shrugged but Diluc was already gone, “I’ll take my thank you in a bottle of wine. Do you hear me??” Kaeya shouted, throwing his hands in the air when he got no reply.

Diluc’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd. Nothing was set in stone yet, this was it. The chance to save the love of his life. 

“My king!” He shouted over the crowd, through the music bouncing around the room. He picked up the pace, running. “King!” 

The royal family and its intruder looked toward him. You sat up in your chair - the first sign of life you’d had all evening. The crown on your head slipped but you didn’t fix it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Your brother stood, the scraping of his chair putting a stall on the noise in the chamber. “How dare you interrupt us!” 

“I apologize king,” Diluc knelt, bowed his head and lifted himself up again before extending the rolled up parchment toward the King. “I will take whatever punishment you decide fitting for my interruption, but first, read this.” Diluc held out the documents but when the Prince tried to snatch them away, Diluc grabbed his wrist and shoved him back. 

“Sir Ragnvindr!” The King stood and the knights in his charge moved out from the shadows. 

“Wait!” You shouted while your brother tried to scramble for the document. Unfortunately, you had a hard time getting any closer as your fiancé yanked you back toward him. 

The parties’ attention turned to the commotion at the royal table. Diluc held his ground even as the threat of drawn weapons drew closer. “I have entrusted you with the safety of my daughter and yet you slander this celebration?” 

“Her safety is my highest priority which is why you must read this!” The prince grabbed the documents before the King could and Diluc felt his heart drop in his chest. 

“What rubbish. Have I not tried to warn you father, this knight has means to harm my precious sister. He must be dealt with -- away with him!” Diluc refrained from drawing his sword, if he did he would look even more like the enemy. 

“Your majesty, please,” Diluc bowed to hide the fear in his eyes but also show he meant no harm. Please -- please hear him -- Hands touched Diluc’s shoulders and began to pull him back. He could hear your shouts and the quieting demands of your soon to be husband. 

I failed 

“Is this true?” 

“Be still.” The King demanded and the room stilled. Diluc’s head shot up, his heart flipping as the king reached for the parchment. The prince did his best to plead, to explain that it was nothing but when the King didn't back down, he reluctantly handed it over. Diluc’s heart pounded, he felt his hands burn as he looked on only to find you still bound by the hands of that man. 

Read faster, be begged.

“Yes, Majesty,” Diluc confirmed. “Take notice of the seal on the last page.” The King flipped to the last page, grimacing at what he saw. When he snapped his head to Prince Calmin the fear in the man’s eyes was clear. 

“Unhand my daughter. Seize him!” 

“W-What?” the prince stuttered, backing up with you in his grip.

Your brother reached for the king's arm but was shoved off. “Father what are you doing!?” 

“Be silent, child.” The King moved toward Prince Calmin who grabbed a knife hidden in his clothes and held it out, while his other hand held tightly onto your hair.

“Back away! G-Got it?? I-I was promised -- you promised me!” Calmin screamed at the prince who was cowering in his chair. The commotion grew as the kings guard closed in but all Diluc saw was the fear in your eyes, and how your trembling hand extend to him. 

“Let her go,” Diluc reached for the table and tossed it out of the way. The thick wood and metal bindings kept it in place as it slid down the steps narrowly avoiding several patrons as it went. He didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about anyone, he only cared about - “I won’t say it again.” 

Diluc’s claymore appeared in his hand, ablaze. The Prince forcefully moved you in between him and the fire but Diluc knew enough about his vision to control every microscopic flame. 

“Get off her!” In an instant, the room was filled with a flash of light. You covered your face as blue and green flames whipped past you, smacking directly into your captor. He screamed, releasing you, shoving you. As you stumbled forward Diluc caught you so you wouldn't fall. 

“What have you done?! You’ll pa-pay for this ---” Calmin screamed, toppling over in pain as flames clung to his skin. Diluc held you against him so you couldn’t see and hoped the sound of his cries wouldn’t linger in your memory forever. 

The king's guard shackled and carried Calmin away. They hauled off the prince as well, who in a state of bumbling cries revealed he had plotted against the kingdom for riches, and a power greater than visions. As long as he got the princess to marry this 'prince'.  It was through this plot the king learned of an uprising to the east, spurred on the by hands of the northern archon. If they had been successful, the kingdoms resources would have been wiped out.

You slid your arms around Diluc, unwilling to let go and placed his hand on your back. he’d thank Kaeya profusely for saving more than he could ever imagine. 

--

As the party goers were escorted out of the hall, and the energy in the room died down, Diluc stewarded you to the balcony for air.  

“You’re shaking,” he commented, removing his cape and draping it over your shoulders. 

“How could he do this ...” you mumbled, “my own brother.” 

“But, y-you saved me --” 

“Power and corruption are one of many slivers of the darkness that plagues this world. I never wished for you to be exposed to them.” Diluc rubbed your arms, called on his vision to warm you as best as he could. He might have saved you from a sham of a marriage but he failed everywhere else. “I am beside myself for what has happened to you,” he lifted your chin, looked at you but wished he could do more. 

This proposal was one of many you'd get. How was he going to survive the next one?

“Did I?” 

You began to speak but the sound of footsteps interrupted you. Diluc took several steps back and bowed. 

“My daughter, how are you?” 

“I’m alright,” you extended your hand toward the King and he pulled you close. Diluc kept his gaze to the ground. 

“You are unharmed?” 

“Yes,” the King breathed a sigh of relief. He took note of the color wrapped around you, turning his attention to the knight at your side. 

“And you, Sir Ragnvindr?” 

“I am fine, King,” he bowed again, missing the expression you sent to him. 

“Good. Then, if you can spare us a moment I’d like to converse with my daughter in private.” 

“Of course,” Diluc excused himself through the balcony door but made sure to keep you in his line of sight.

--

For several days after, Diluc couldn’t get close to you. He was frustrated, annoyed that his duties kept pulling him away. He rarely fought assignments, but this constant distance was making him insubordinate. 

Finally, he was allowed to return to the castle but no matter where he looked he couldn’t find you. Every room he searched was empty, even your chambers had looked unused for days. The pain in his chest began to burn his throat. 

Where were you - what happened to you - why couldn’t he find you

A figure moved in his peripherals, he spun toward it -- 

“Ah, there you are.” The Kings voice shattered his focus. Within seconds, Diluc was kneeling. “Oh, well. Always do dutiful. Please rise, my boy,” the King chuckled and Diluc did as told. 

“Your majesty. How can I be of service?” 

The King made his way to Diluc who’s head had stayed lowered since the King called on him. There was an uncomfortable silence blanketing the scene, he did his best not to fidget. 

“Diluc Ragnvindr,” hearing his full name, Diluc lifted his eyes but kept his head lowered, “You have sworn to protect my eldest daughter, is that true?” 

“Y-Yes your majesty.” 

“Does that also include her heart?” 

Diluc was hesitant, but he straightened to his full height, coming into direct eye contact with the King. “Sir?” 

“I have watched you care for her, help her, protect her, and though there are suitors who do the same there are none whom she looks at the way she does you.” 

Diluc could hardly breathe. 

“Would you protect my daughters heart the same way you have protected her life?” 

“Yes.” Diluc spoke with conviction. Unsure if what he was vowing too was the one thing his heart yearned for. As stupid he was to believe it, he let himself. 

“Then,” the King took Diluc’s hand in his, one resting on the top and the other cupping the bottom, “You have my blessing. Though I should hardly have the authority to give it.” 

“... I ...” 

“Go. She’s waiting on the balcony.” 

Diluc looked toward the doorway. He swallowed, swore his heart was going to break out of his chest and kill him. He loved you. He wasn’t supposed to - told himself he wouldn’t and yet 

he loved you 

“E-Excuse me,” Diluc bowed, slipped free of the Kings embrace and moved toward the one thing he had wanted but was never allowed. 

There you were, standing with your hands on the marble railing. Your back too him, hair fluttering in the wind. The gown you wore was beautiful. Long trains of white with thick red fabric billowing out behind you. 

Diluc called out your name and, slowly, you turned toward him. He didn’t move, you didn’t move. 

“Did you see the king?” You asked and when he nodded you smiled with tears rolling down your cheeks. Diluc walked toward you as if he were in a dream. “What’s your decision? Could you ever love the princess you swore fealty to--” 

Suddenly, he moved faster than he ever had. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you. He’d never known such a feeling as your lips. Never thought warm tears would feel so invigorating against his hands. 

He had you 

He finally had you 

“Marry me,” he professed above your lips. 

“Tomorrow?” You teased but he didn’t protest. If he were allowed, he’d marry you this instant if it meant you could spend one second more as his wife. 

Laughing, with love rushing through his veins, he hoisted you into the air and let you fall against him as you cupped his face and kissed him in the mid-day sun.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do,” he said in between kisses, “I will follow you. I am yours --” 

“And you are mine,” you vowed. 

@sarahslolitaportfolio​ (these are gonna be long soooo i’m making it a series lol) 

#hazels works #genshin impact #genshin impact x fm reader #x fm reader #x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x female reader #diluc x fem!reader #genshin diluc x fem!reader

[lazyveran]

more azutara political marriage au thoughts

to everyone's horror toph and azula immediately got on like a house on fire. or rather, a palace on fire. they exchange the most scathing insults and get into illogical arguments that azula just cant help but try to win despite how purposefully stupid toph makes them. she's the only woman on the planet that can bait azula into a losing situation. its especially exacerbated by the fact that toph can very deftly play the noblewoman - much to azula's glee. it's a constant headache for everyone whenever toph rolls into the palace. no one knows if a bending duel will destroy half the palace foundations, a four day argument will start up rending azula useless, or if toph will sweet-talk her way into a truly terrible deal with the minister of foreign trade, again.

mai's role in the palace is unknown to literally everyone. she really has no reason for living in caldera, considering her father is a minister halfway across the country - and currently embroiled in a tense legal debate with the former 'new ozai.' every time someone asks what she does at caldera, she makes something up. so far shes been a seamstress, a cook, an assassin, a handmaiden, a farmer (this one was particularly stupid), an economic advisor, and her favourite; azula's personal nightmare. iroh officially settles on mai being a political advisor for the throne, despite the very obvious fact that she has never sat in on any meeting with the firelord.

the zuko/mai affair is the palace's favourite point of gossip. every argument is known about within minutes. it doesnt help that zuko's actual wife, toph, keeps helping them eavesdrop

azula used to do her morning training regiment in one of the public courts. very obliviously, she believed that the daily gaggle of serving girls who watched her were simply inspired by her dedication and strength, and so it was good for her image. katara immediately forced her to change to a different, more private bending court.

#political marriage au #azutara #azula #katara #toph #zuko #mai #maiko #atla #veran rambles #i have many thoughts still brewing abt this stupid au #this is just fun setting stuff

[fyodere]

spy x family ! au yuri briar smut ( pt. 1 ) ♡

complex feelings about you

﹙ 🦇 ﹚── parings : yuri briar x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), yandere themes (we’re talking about yuri), obsession, mutual obsession (kinda), masturbation, virginity kink, purity kink in general, yuri touching himself wearing his uniform 😩, kind of sexting ???, stalking

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Yuri was immersed in his obsession with you, becoming more and more determined to uncover every detail about your life. He searched through every file folder, every record, wishing to fully understand who you were. His fixation exceeded healthy boundaries, replacing even the photos of his sister with images of you in his personal spaces.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : IM SO SORRY FOR THIS. i’m being for real. sorry for not posting the requests or my other drafts. yuri was simply calling for me. THIS IS GOING TO BE A SERIES because i need more yuri content. anyway, HAPPY EASTER <3

When you first laid eyes on Yuri, something clicked in your head.

Perhaps it was his innocent brown-reddish eyes; his youthful and gentle demeanor, reminiscent of a puppy; or maybe his slightly long black hair that practically caressed his shoulders; perhaps his unexpectedly masculine and strong stature.

Truth be told, when you saw Yuri Briar for the first time, you flipped, completely.

You were just a secretary working in the public sector for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Your job was relatively simple but tiring. Tasks like scheduling appointments, organizing documents, answering phones, drafting correspondence, and providing administrative support to members of the Ministry were part of your routine. You played an important role in maintaining efficiency and coordinating activities within the institution. Not that you were extremely valued — of course not. But still, the salary was good enough to sustain your humble and comfortable life in Ostania.

You saw Briar for the first time on your first day of work, early in the morning. He was standing, holding a cup of coffee while talking to his superior with a smile.

Your heart skipped a beat.

When you looked at Yuri, it was love at first sight. Your eyes widened, your face grew warm, and you blushed. How could such a handsome man be working in the same place as you? Staring at him for another brief moment, you presumed he was probably young and around your age. Your heart skipped another beat, did you two have something in common? The thought made you want to slap yourself; how could you fantasize about a man you hadn't even met?

You approached your superior, introducing yourself. The red-eyed man was by his side, and you resisted — emphasis on resisted — the urge to stare at him.

Your superior gave you instructions for the day and left, suddenly leaving you alone with the boy who took your breath away.

"I see it's your first day as a secretary, hm?" He said, now looking at you. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Yuri Briar. I'm the Minister of Foreign Affairs."

So young and with such a high position? You thought.

"... I hope we can get along." He added, with a smile. And you felt your knees weaken.

"Of course, Mr. Briar! I'll do my best to be useful to you." Pathetically formal. But what could you do? Just his presence fried your neurons; it was better to err on the side of formality than to be disrespectful. Yuri gave you a smile, and your heart squeezed.

"It's okay, you don't need to be so formal." He chuckled softly, with his eyes closed. "I need to go to a meeting now, if it's not too much trouble, I need help with the paperwork..." And then he gave you instructions on what you should do in his absence.

Your face stayed red for the rest of the day, and your heart felt tight. The man with black hair wouldn't leave your mind. You organized things as you were asked, unconsciously dreaming of receiving praise from Briar.

Lost in reverie, it was already night, and Yuri hadn't arrived yet. You were cleaning his desk, lost in your thoughts, when unexpectedly, a voice cut through your train of thought.

"Hey!" It was Yuri. "You're still here, sorry for keeping you here so late." he rubbed his own neck with his hands timidly, with a smile. Unbeknownst to you, the room was empty. It was just you and Briar.

"N-No, Mr. Briar." You said, stuttering. "I lost track of time out of distraction. You're not to blame for anything. I did what was asked of me, now I'll be going home." You tried to leave quickly, feeling your face burn.

"Don't you want company? It's dangerous for a woman to go out alone at this hour." He said, with a calm demeanor. "I would hate to see my sister walking alone at this hour."

"Do you have a sister?"

"I do, an older sister." He said with a smile. "But, uh, the offer still stands. I can accompany you so you don't walk alone."

"No, Mr. Briar!" You replied. "You don't need to be so kind, I live nearby. It won't be a long walk, such concern isn't necessary."

"If you insist..." He replied, with a smile. The same smile that almost made you lose your balance and the strength to stand.

You left, walking in opposite directions. You couldn't help but blush remembering the dialogue exchanged with the young man; the heat in your body protected you from the cold of the street. And, without realizing it, you had already arrived home.

You lay on the bed sighing, with your hand resting on your chest. Remembering every word, every smile exchanged with the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

The next few days passed quickly. Unbeknownst to you, it had been months since you started working at the public ministry. Honestly, you didn't exchange many words with Briar. The red-eyed boy was busy with various meetings — which was understandable, given his enviable position — you understood, but secretly missed the dark-haired man and the small smiles and short dialogues exchanged.

Until the fateful day arrived.

"Can I talk to you?" Yuri spoke near your ear, you were cleaning the countertop, lost in your thoughts, you hadn't even noticed the approach of the dark-haired man.

"Of course, Mr. Briar." You turned to him.

"I've observed your behavior over the past few months," He said with his characteristic smile. "And you're exemplary! I talked to the higher-ups to give you a promotion!"

"But— huh? I can't believe I can be promoted, Mr. Briar." You said insecurely, and he replied with a laugh.

"Don't worry. It's a position, um... let's say, a bit secretive." He said, putting his index finger on his lips. "Soon, some superior will talk to you about the details!" And then he left, leaving you confused and anxious. What kind of position would this be?

A few hours passed, and you were called for a meeting. You entered the room, visibly nervous.

And what happened? Oh, what happened...

You were explained about the State security service, the secret police. Now you would work with the feared by civilians, secret police, was that what Yuri wanted?

So Briar's job as minister was a force?

All the details were explained to you, your role hadn't changed, you would only be given files of deep secrecy, which sent a shiver down your spine. Would you be able to carry such responsibility?

Your workplace had now changed. You found yourself going every morning to the discreet lair of the State security service. Once again, you were close to Briar, taking care of his confidential papers.

Now you knew Yuri's true profession. Honestly, you were amazed at the violence exerted by the security service. However, such a discovery made your heart race. Discovering another side of Briar made your breathing heavy; you were delirious with excitement. Now, that was a secret you both shared.

And, of course, he looked ridiculously handsome in his secret police uniform.

Now, you shared more moments together. Considering that all meetings that Yuri attended were a sham, and that, in fact, he was in that place the whole time.

Honestly, you didn't exchange many words. The atmosphere in that place was more tense, more serious. And now, you knew Yuri had interrogations. Interrogations in which Briar was not merciful, interrogations in which the black-haired man had no shame when it came to using violence.

You knew how brutish Yuri was — after all, you cleaned the blood from the room after interrogations —, it made your heart race in anxiety and fear, but also in desire.

At that moment, you were cleaning the interrogation room that had just been used by Briar. The smell of sweat and blood hangs in the air.

But the perfume of the red-eyed man too.

You were alone in the room, the highly trained police officers were going about their business, and Yuri was probably in some meeting with Desmond and his superiors about some plan to prevail for the glory of Ostania.

The room was already clean, and you admired your good work together. For a moment, you picked up a small towel that was resting under the table, brought it to your nose, and, closing your eyes, you inhaled the odor given off by the cloth.

It was Yuri's. You knew from the specific smell, he had probably used it to dry his sweat during the interrogation.

You inhaled it again, closing your eyes tightly, imagining Yuri next to you. And, without realizing it, your panties dampened just by imagining Briar behind you, rubbing against your body, sighing in your ear.

Finally, you began to rub your intimacy on the corner of the table, on the most pointed part of the table, rubbing your wet and needy cunt against the furniture, feeling a wave of pleasure run through your entire body.

“Mr. Briar—Ah!” You moaned, but then quickly covered your mouth, and in a moment of realization, you realized what you were doing. "My God." You say, moving away from the furniture, with your hands, slightly trembling over your mouth.

You were taught that women of value don't touch themselves or succumb to the pleasures of the flesh, but Yuri, with that black hair and reddish eyes, made you lose your temper.

When Yuri Briar first saw you, a switch flipped in his head.

Maybe it was your clumsy steps, betraying nervousness; your eyes shyly cast down; the way you twirled your hair, reflecting shyness; perhaps your innocent and defenseless demeanor, like someone in need of protection.

Truth be told, when Yuri Briar first saw you, he flipped, completely.

Briar held the position of a diplomat as a facade; in reality, the dark-haired man worked for Ostania's secret police as a counterintelligence agent. He had initially started his job in the ministry as an ordinary worker but was soon chosen to work in the secret police, safeguarding Ostania's future.

Briar saw you for the first time on his first day of work, early in the morning. He stood there, holding a cup of coffee while speaking to his superior with a smile.

His heart skipped a beat.

Yuri, with his spy skills, felt your gaze and discreetly looked back at you. It was love at first sight. Yuri noticed your sweetly timid face as you entered the room; Briar felt his face grow warm and flush. How could such a beautiful, pure, helpless, and worthy-of-protection woman be less than 6 meters away from him?

How did he know this? Briar could read your body language, your gaze, and your delicate voice.

Staring at you for another brief moment, he presumed that you were probably young and around his age. Yuri's heart skipped another beat; he had never felt such a strong urge to protect someone besides his sister.

Then, he felt you approaching your superior, introducing yourself. The man with reddened eyes stood by your side trying to conceal his slightly flushed face. Damn, wasn't spy training enough to learn how to hide his emotions?

Your superior gave you instructions on what would be done that day and left; suddenly, you two were alone.

"I see it's your first day as a secretary, hm?" He says, now looking at you. "Pleasure, my name is Yuri Briar. I'm the Minister of Foreign Relations."

Oh, so pure, so precious. He thought.

"... I hope we can get along." He adds, with a smile, trying not to reveal all his thoughts of protecting you.

"Of course, Mr. Briar! I'll do my best to be useful to you." Pathetically formal. But what could you do? Yuri gives you a smile, inevitably amazed by your tenderness. How could you be so lovely?

"It's okay, you don't have to be so formal." He chuckles softly, eyes closed, trying to reassure you. "I need to go to a meeting now, if it's not too much trouble, I need help with the paperwork..." And then he gave you instructions on what you should do in his absence.

Yuri was now at the secret police headquarters; suddenly, he found himself thinking of you. Without a second thought, he rummages through his stack of files, wanting to find out everything — anything — about you.

Yuri was immersed in his obsession with you, becoming more and more determined to uncover every detail about your life. He searched through every file folder, every record, wishing to fully understand who you were. His fixation exceeded healthy boundaries, replacing even the photos of his sister with images of you in his personal spaces.

As he delved deeper into this insatiable quest for information about you, the line between reality and fantasy became increasingly blurred. His mind was filled with thoughts of consuming you completely, possessing every aspect of your existence.

The next days passed quickly. Unnoticed, it had been months since you worked at the public ministry. Honestly, you didn't exchange many words with Briar. The red-eyed boy was busy with several meetings — which was understandable, given his enviable position — you understood, but secretly missed the dark-haired man and the small smiles and short conversations exchanged.

Until the fateful day arrived.

Yuri had a plan, a plan he was proud of. It was only a matter of time until you were in his hands.

You were cleaning the counter completely concentrated, in a quick and discreet move, he put an earpiece in your ear "Can I talk to you?" Yuri spoke near your ear, you hadn't even noticed the approach of the dark-haired man.

"Of course, Mr. Briar." You turned to him.

"I've observed your behavior over the past few months," He says with his characteristic smile. "And you are exemplary! I've spoken to the superiors to give you a promotion!"

"But— huh? I can't believe I could be promoted, Mr. Briar." You said insecurely, and he responded with a laugh.

"Don't worry. It's a position, um... let's say, a bit secretive." He says, putting his index finger on his lips. "Soon, some superior will talk to you about the details!" And then he left, leaving you confused and distressed. What kind of position could this be?

It was the perfect plan.

Yuri did what was necessary to put you in the State Security service. He just needed to recommend you and be patient.

Time passed, and there you were, working as a secretary for the secret police. Yuri couldn't help but smirk maliciously when he heard the news. He had already heard the entire conversation the superiors had with you through the bug, but nonetheless, Briar relished hearing the news officially.

Your workplace had now changed. You found yourself going to the discreet lair of the State Security service every morning. Once again, you were close to Briar, taking care of his confidential papers.

Honestly, you didn't exchange many words. The atmosphere in that place was more tense, more serious. And now, you knew that Yuri had interrogations. Interrogations that Briar was not merciful in, interrogations that the dark-haired man had no qualms about using violence.

Yuri had just finished another one of his violent interrogations, using all tactics, from physical to psychological torture to get the necessary information. Then, after the interrogation was over, he left.

Arriving home and still in his uniform, Yuri heard gasps — gasps coming from you. Soon he felt his face burn and his heart race. Did you… no. He knew you didn’t have a boyfriend and that you weren’t talking to any other men.

“Mr. Briar—ah!”

That was the last straw.

With his hands on his face after hearing what you had said through the wire, Yuri felt his knees weaken. Damn, you had an effect on him.

Briar felt his manhood throb, it was painful as it practically ripped his black boxers. But what the hell. Why he couldn't control his primal instincts when it comes to you?

So, even dressed in the uniform that should represent love for the country, he caressed his throbbing intimacy, which pulsed with each breath he took.

Then, Yuri noticed the end of your graceful sounds. He felt so dirty, so disgusting and disgusting to hear you in such an intimate moment. But even so, your voice, your delicate voice, so vulnerable and precious calling him by his last name in the middle of such adorable sounds made him feel like the most despicable man on Earth.

When you got home, you felt your intimacy tingling. The way her panties were wet bothered her. God, since when did you become like this? You washed your face, trying, in some way, to purify your mind. What the hell were you thinking?

Your face was still hot, and your heart was beating so fast it felt like it would escape through your mouth. Your face felt hot—as did your body—but what the fuck? You were satisfying your carnal desires while thinking about the red-eyed diplomat, and worse, you did it on his desk.

You ran to bed and smothered your face in pillows, trying, somehow, to escape the tricks your mischievous mind played on you.

And then, your mind wandered, and you emerged into your thoughts.

You were sitting on the table, with your legs open and Yuri between them. You were kissing, tongues swirling and eyes rolling. Gasps, bites, lust, desire.

You break the kiss, saying, “Mr. Briar, if someone catches us—“

“Shh…” He whispers. “Do you know why I'm in the state security service, hm? I can do the dirty work and get rid of the evidence.” He says, then kissing you again. Yuri's hands traveled over his body. One hand supporting her delicate torso, and the other venturing through all the lines and curves there were.

Without realizing it, you start touching your thighs.

Yuri was strong, agile and determined. This made you even more in love with him, Briar had so many qualities that you could snort remembering. But not. Not at that moment, you can only focus on his hot tongue exploring the roof of your mouth, the hot air that came out of him touching your skin in the middle of kiss breaks and summaries. God, Yuri was so good, so good. The man with reddish eyes breaks the kiss again, this time saying something.

“You look so beautiful like this.” He says, taking his hand off your hip and placing it on his face. “With a flushed face, heavy breathing. Just succumbing to my touch.” He lets out a nasal laugh.

“Mr. Briar, I—“

“I’m not done talking yet.” He cuts him off, his hand, which was caressing his face, goes down to his inner thighs. “No man touched you, yeah?”

“Uhm.” You nod, visibly nervous.

“So perfect for me. So pure, so defenseless…” He licks his lips, and the once affection turns into strong squeezes on the inside of your thighs, leaving marks.

You decide to imitate him, squeezing your own thighs as you imagine Yuri's firm touch.

Then, his hand moves up, like a light glide, caressing your private area, which, honestly, pulsed and squeezed the air begging for touches.

“No man…” Briar said with a light laugh. “No man…” He reaches your most sensitive spot, rubbing it deliciously, making you moan.

“A-Ah—ha!”

It didn't take long for his hand to reach your needy part, you simulated Yuri's touch once again, closing your eyes to concentrate on the moment.

“So beautiful…” The red-eyed boy says, slowly inserting a finger into your hot, soaked entrance. Fuck! You were asking for this, you were begging for Yuri's fingers entering you.

Yuri's eyes, once radiating innocence and tenderness, now glowed deeply with pure lust.

It was late at night, Briar found herself in a delicate situation. He tried to fall asleep at any cost, but his mind was just a loop of his voice calling him.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, Yuri hears gooey noises coming from his ear. Hmm? What could it be now? He thought focusing on the sounds coming from the other end of the line.

“Ah—ah! There is!" He heard your sweet voice again, as the sticky noises grew louder. Yuri wanted to cover his face with so much shame, the event he had tried so hard to get out of his mind was now repeating itself in full force, longer and more intense.

How could you sound so lovely, precious and worthy of protection at a time like that?

Yuri felt his cock throb painfully for the second time that day, Briar snorted, he needed you. Then, he took his cock out of the boxers that covered it, pre-cum leaking from his tip. But what the hell? Was he really so needy because of some sounds?

I mean, Yuri had definitely touched himself thinking about you before—more times than he'd like to admit—but now he felt like an intruder. A dirty, perverted intruder. His mind was so full of dirty thoughts about you, so since you were relieving yourself, why wouldn't he do the same?

Briar moans softly as she squeezes his cock. Damn, you must be so perfect to be fucked. Yuri watches the veins on his member pop out and his glans redden, in pure excitement.

“Ha… fuck…” He moans and then says his name in a sly tone, calling for you.

“Mhmmm… Ah…” He hears you on the other side “Ah—ah! Yuri..!"

That was enough. For the first time, he had heard you say his first name. And still with that precious voice full of malice. That was enough, enough for Yuri to start masturbating like crazy, imagining pumping you with his cock.

#spy x family #yuri briar x reader #yuri briar smut #im sorry for this #happy easter ig