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Unwavering Presence Chapter 3

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.

Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.

Word Count: 5.6k

chapter 2 Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!

After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.

There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.

Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.

Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?” I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”

The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”

Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”

I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”

Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”

My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.

A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.

The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.

I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.

Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.

“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.

He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.

I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.

Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.

Cassian’s POV

I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.

“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.

“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”

Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”

I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.

Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”

I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”

Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.

Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”

“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.

Reader’s POV

After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.

I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.

I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.

You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.

Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”

I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.

If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“

“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.

The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”

“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”

Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”

Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.

Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.

Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”

Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.

I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”

“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.

Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.

Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”

I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head. You BOTH do.

I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.

One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”

A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?” I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home. Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”

Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.

Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced. “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”

I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”

I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”

Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”

There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.

“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”

He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.

Cassian’s POV

She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.

Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.

I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.

Reader’s POV

The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.

I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.” I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”

Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.

At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.

“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.”

He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.

The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.

Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.

I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.

Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.

I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”

She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”

I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.

Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”

Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”

Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.

I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn’t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:

Rhys, help. Please help me!

There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.

Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.” A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.” The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.

Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.

I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.

No one will be dying tonight.

There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.

The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.

I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.

The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”

I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”

I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”

“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.

“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.

Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”

Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.

"Who is?" Cassian asked.

"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."

Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”

You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.

With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.

He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo

#cassian x reader #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #cassian x you #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #archeron sister #unwaveringpresence

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

Text

Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 1

“A cult?” Jason blew out a bubble and enjoyed the disgusted face that Bruce made.

“Yes.” His voice was tight. Jason could tell that he wanted to turn back to the Batcomputer. “They’re operating in Park Row-”

“Crime Alley.”

Batman sighed and accepted the correction. “I would like to propose a joint operation.” He sounded so tired and not very optimistic.

Jason eyed up his on-again-off-again Father figure and popped his gum, thinking it over. Bruce clearly expected him to say no, fuck off, and take the information himself.

He could. There was nothing wrong with that.

“Sure, old man.” He clapped Bruce on the shoulder and finished screwing together the tool he’d brought in for maintenance. He’d had to fabricate a new part and the Red Hood didn’t exactly have the equipment for that in his two room apartment. “Thursday night alright?”

“They’ve a planned meeting on Wednesday, actually,” Bruce said, frowning slightly at him but looking soft around the eyes with confused hope. “Would that be possible? They seem to gather mid-week.”

Jason let out a sigh. “I can make it work. Ta, old man.” He made sure to toss off an especially insouciant salute as he sauntered away. Sure, he was willing to put a little effort into maintaining their relationship, but he couldn’t be too compliant. If you gave Bruce an hour of your time, he wrote you down on the schedule for an hour every day until one of you fuckin’ died in a warehouse explosion. Something like that.

He wasn’t that trusting, though. Jason took the information that Bruce emailed him and did his own legwork. He wasn’t stubborn enough to bother redoing digital work that Bruce had done or gotten from Babs. That would be a waste of his time, and he valued his time. But he scoped out the cult’s meeting place.

Of all the undignified things, it was a rented room in the community center. Jason found himself sheepishly breaking into the office to check on the reservation and poking around the room itself.

There was nothing special about it. It was a shitty room with shitty paneled walls and cheap, well-trodden grey carpet. It boasted a few too many tables, arranged in a U shape, and a whiteboard pushed up against the wall that hadn’t been cleaned off well enough to erase what he was pretty sure was a reference to their lord and savior, destroyed of worlds.

So. That was a point for Bruce’s cult thing.

He hadn’t really doubted it, if he was honest, given that this had originated in a tip from Zatanna. She had told him as a courtesy that some creep had moved their base of recruiting and operations into Gotham.

Apparently, recruitment was going pretty well. The room could seat like, twenty? Jason counted chairs and left.

He came back on Wednesday at 8pm with the Batman and an attempt at a good attitude. He probably wasn’t going to need any of the weapons on his person. They were going to check in so that this guy knew they had an eye on him and that he would be suspect number one if there was any hint of people or cats being sacrificed.

Bruce fucked off to peer in the windows, like the giant caped creep he was. Jason took the front door, nodded congenially at the old man in the office, and knocked at the room the cultists had reserved.

He could hear Bruce internally curse through the comm. It was silent, of course, but the quality of the silence changed. “Knock knock,” he called, since a literal knock hadn’t done it. He opened the door without waiting. “Just checking in, heard you’re new to town and that you tried to feed Zatanna’s shitty little cousin to the god of Death?”

The room stared at him. A whiteboard marker squeaked to a stop. He idly followed the sound to the board. A …. Huh. that looked like some kind of mystical bullshit.

“You’ve been touched by death,” said the fraud himself, a man in his fifties with a wildly pretentious robe that was wrinkled from the paper bag he’d clearly used to carry it in. He outstretched the hand that didn’t have a blue whiteboard marker in it. “You would be a perfect sacrifice to our Lord.”

“So will it be,” said about half the people there, at the same time a young woman said, “No shit?” in an impressed tone.

Jason rolled his eyes through the helmet, unintimidated by the room of weirdos standing up. The kind of people who gathered at a community center on a Wednesday night were not going to summon the God of Death. Light glinted off the window where Batman was clearly weighing the possibility of breaking glass and swinging in. Jason silently waved him off with a headshake. They weren’t to the point of property damage yet. He took a couple of steps into the room with deliberate swagger. “What a lucky guess,” he drawled. “The Red Hood has had brushes with death? No one but a legitimate prophet could possibly make such a statement.”

“I’m not a prophet,” said the man, and turned back to his white board. “I’m a devote.” He rubbed out a line with the meat of his hand and then hurriedly wrote in ‘The Red Hood’ in a tilted cursive. “The sacrifice!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide and accidentally making a big blue line through his evil little sigil or whatever it was. The elderly lady to Jason’s right opened up her bag, thrust her hand in, and came up with a fistful of -

“Salt?” Jason asked, confused and unimpressed as the silly twit threw her handful of salt at him. “Thanks, I’m better seasoned now,” he snarked. He pulled out a gun easily. “Alright, let’s get serious. I-”

The whiteboard was glowing. The blue letters were glowing green.

“What the fuck?” Jason said. The windows exploded with broken glass as Batman decided now was the time to make his entrance. He barely got to see it before something hooked unpleasantly on his body and soul and twisted it sideways.

The world was green now. Holy shit. Jason spun a circle on uneven ground and gaped. “...Egg on my face,” he said. “I’ve been sacrificed. Consider me embarrassed.” A quick check showed that his comm was useless. It was giving off a steady little eeee of static that kinda sounded like screams. Whimsical. Jason turned it off.

He wasn’t panicking yet. The void wasn’t that freaky. It was weird, sure, but there weren’t any demons or enemies. He flicked the safety off his favorite gun just in case and frowned into the darkness.

It was like he was standing under a spotlight with no light source. There was ambient lighting in all directions, but the world faded into darkness only a few dozen feet away. He took some experimental steps to determine that, yeah, the field of visibility traveled with him.

Well. Time to get moving. Jason walked. There was nothing for the first - hour, he was gonna call it an hour. He got antsy and started jogging. The green stretched on, placid and infinite in a way that was really starting to piss him off. “Hey!” Jason barked into the void. “Anyone there?”

There was an answering electronic whirr. He stopped in his tracks. Jason looked in every direction, including up, and only saw the fucking thing when it was basically on top of him.

The vehicle was probably most equivalent to a spaceship, he decided, as what was probably a 3-man craft at most parked. The top clicked. It opened from the top and someone bounded out. “Hey!” came an annoyed male voice. “What’s the deal, bud?” The stranger landed in front of Jason with crossed arms and a pissy expression. His white hair floated above his head as if he was the little fucking mermaid in the ocean.

Jason scowled, the back of his mind cataloging the other guy’s outfit as pristine and undamaged and his musculature as athletic. “What’s it to you?” he asked, defensive. He didn’t know if it was safe to give information to this guy. “I might be a little lost,” Jason conceded.

“A little lost,” the guy repeated, and then- okay, he flew in a weird little flippy circle, scowling all the while as Jason gaped. “A little lost.” He scoffed. Then he let out a sigh that made his whole body look smaller. He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “This is a weird question,” he said, making it sound more defensive than apologetic. “Did you uh.” He scowled, like the words were distasteful. “Look,” he tried again. “Are you delulu, or did you get caught up as the sacrificial bride? I told Frank to knock that shit off.”

Sacrificial bride. Jason felt his brain go offline for a moment. Say what now.

“Helloooo,” the… was this rando a god of death? He was impatient. He flew way up into Jason’s personal space and snapped his fingers. “Someone just smashed metal trash bins together at my grave to get my attention, basically. No, it’s more like one of those spam pop ups that says there’s hot girls in your area?” He made a gesture at Jason. “Only it’s loud. It’s ringing in my ears, and I had to come track you down. Do you think this is funny?”

“...Sacrificial bride?” Jason finally managed to croak out.

Weirdly, this made the other guy relax immediately. “Just found out, huh,” he said, sounding much more sympathetic. “Yeah, okay, we need to sort out a spiritual divorce immediately. And then you can go home and there will be no more hot girls in my area and I can get back to my ess- my work.”

Jason took a few moments of grief and confusion to accept his apparent status. “We’re married?” he said weakly.

The white haired man looked a little sheepish. “Marriage is probably not quite accurate,” he said, and Jason felt a little bit of relief before the guy continued, “It’s more like you’re my concubine?” He sounded mortified by this. “I didn’t want this!”

“No, no,” Jason said, meaning both that he believed it and that he needed this conversation to change directions immediately. “I- who are you?” He gestured at his– what the fuck was the other side of a concubine relationship? King was the associated word that came up, but that…

“I’m nobody, really,” said the white haired man weakly. “But I may technically be King of ghosts or whatever. The Infinite Realms.” He scratched at his face. “So… yeah.”

They stood in utterly mortified silence for a long moment before he seemed to remember something. “You can call me Danny,” he offered.

“...Call me Jason,” he said.

“Thanks, Jason,” Danny said genially. “So, uh, this is a mess, right?” He started floating away backwards. “I’m going to hunt down my mentor and advisor and get some uh- advice, I guess. Do you wanna come with? Or should I come back and check in once I’ve heard from him?”

Jason weighed up his situation, the conventional wisdom about getting in vehicles with strange men, and wondered how useless his gun was going to be in this situation. Danny had never reacted to it being pointed at him, so his guess was ‘utterly unhelpful’. He put it away. “I’d like a ride, thanks,” he said dryly.

They made some stilted conversation on the ride. Danny was clearly trying to hold back and give him no identifying information. That was fascinating, because it implied that there was something Jason could do from the human world to track Danny down. It was also reassuring because there was no reason to withhold information if he’d planned to keep Jason prisoner, so, ya know, that was a good sign.

Anyway, Jason got a lot of information from Danny.

Danny was a terrible liar and he misspoke like, all the time. Jason was pretty sure he was in the ghost equivalent of school, like college or something. He talked like someone in Jason’s age group would, so he’d probably died very recently. Maybe he had been a college student when he’d died and he just hadn’t given up on that degree yet, honestly. Jason managed to drag the conversation around to education. He got nowhere with asking about literature but he hit the jackpot with science. Danny was still babbling about a telescope when he landed the …ship outside of a wonky clocktower.

Jason took off his safety belt and froze in his tracks when Danny absently stopped him with a cool hand. Jason looked down at that hand.

“You had better stay here,” Danny said. He shook his head slightly. “Clocky doesn’t like everyone.”

He melted into the chair as if he had never wanted to get up. “Alright,” Jason said.

Danny was out of the spaceship by the time that Jason realized something was very wrong with that interaction.

He hadn’t decided to sit down. He hadn’t wanted to sit back down. Did- did he actually think it was reasonable to stay behind, or would he have argued and gone in normally?

‘...I think Danny did something.’ Suspicion swirled in his gut. Jason tried to take the safety belt off and stand up. He couldn’t. It was like his muscles wouldn’t respond to it.

Well, that was pretty fuckin’ evil. His pulse picked up in his throat. It… It was some kind of compulsion? He had to do what Danny told him to do? That was really fucked up. He was starting to feel really unsafe now. He wished he’d hung back with Bruce. He wanted someone to bring him home. And weirdly, he felt betrayed. He hardly trusted Danny, didn’t know the fucker well enough to, but he hadn’t gotten that impression off the guy–

‘It wasn’t him,’ Jason realized. ‘It was the binding ritual. Danny said it wasn’t like a marriage, it’s not equal. That’s why I did what Danny wanted me to do.’

Well. Well then. If Danny didn’t know that Jason had to follow his orders, Jason was most fucking certainly not going to spell it out for him. It was a grim calculation to make, but it seemed the safest. As it was, Danny seemed to want to get rid of him as fast as possible.

So that was it. He’d play along and get Danny to spit him back out into Gotham, a young hot divorcé free on the streets.

#red hot ghouls #jason todd #dcdp #deadonmain #dp x dc

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hysteria-things · 3 months

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Love your two works! Could you write something about Matt dating a girl in college and his reaction to meeting all her friends?

BELLA NOTTE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your college friends have been asking to meet your boyfriend for a while. he’s visiting for a weekend, but the downside is that he’s terrified to meet them.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: anxiety, cutesy fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 865

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thank you anon! i hope you like this. i loved writing it :)

the laughter died down after a few minutes, you and your two closest college friends hanging out in their dorm. your friends sat in their assigned bed while you sat in the beanbag in the corner. it was thursday night on your lovely college campus.

“so y/n.” your friend jasmine starts, throwing her now empty soda bottle with the food bags scattered in the middle of the room. “when are we going to meet that boyfriend of yours?”

you smile, a light blush forming on your cheeks. you go to school in LA, meaning that visits to matt or vice versa are easy. the only thing is that jasmine and sage have yet to meet him.

they ask about him a lot, and your answer is always ‘soon.’

however, matt is supposed to come tomorrow and stay the weekend.

“for real, girl. i’m starting to think your delusions are getting to the best of you and he’s not real.” sage jokes, licking her spoon with ice cream on it.

“he is real.” you say. “lucky for you guys, he’s coming to visit for the weekend tomorrow. i can tell him you guys are dying to meet him.”

the duo let out girlish squeals. “this is so exciting! he sounds like such a good guy.” jasmine smiles over at you.

you return it and nod. “he is.”

matt knocks at your dorm door in the late afternoon, making you spring up from your bed and open it. “matt!”

“hey, baby.” he greets, pecking you on the lips before entering your single dorm.

he sets his backpack down next to your bed and rubs his sweaty hands on his pants. “so, uh… when are they coming?”

“around seven. we still got a few hours.” you walk over to your bed and sit. you scan matt’s face, and you can tell he’s nervous.

the lip-biting, the hand fiddling, the looking at the ground.

“you have nothing to worry about, love,” you reassure, grabbing his hands and rubbing your thumbs on them to calm him.

“i know.” he sighs, sitting down beside you. “can we watch lady and the tramp?”

one thing about matt is that whenever he’s feeling anxious about something, he turns to binging disney movies to distract him. it’s one of the many qualities you love about him because even at twenty, he doesn’t let the kid in him go.

the closer seven rolls around, matt’s fiddling and lip-biting don’t get any better. your head rests on his chest, the both of you facing the small TV you have. you can hear his heartbeat.

“talk to me, matt,” you say calmly, being that all you hear in your ear is the erratic pump of his heart.

“is it stupid for me to be so scared?” he asks lowly, playing with your hair.

you lean off of him so you can face his front. he has a look of worry on his face, and it makes your heartache.

“not at all. it’s normal to be nervous when meeting new people.” you stroke his face with your hand, and he leans into your touch. he kisses your palm.

“if you get too anxious, i can ask them to leave. they won’t mind at all.”

he exhales. “thank you.”

bella notte starts to play on the TV, and the music makes you smile. out of all the binging disney movies with matt, this song has to be your number one.

“listen.” you exclaim, pointing to the TV. “it’s going to be a bella notte. a beautiful night. trust me, okay?”

your disney reference forces the cutest smile on his face and he nods.

you kiss him on the head and as if on queue, a knock floods the room. “come in!”

sage is the one to walk in first, jasmine following behind. she glances at the TV and gasps. “omg i didn’t know you guys were watching a movie. we can come back when it’s over—”

“not at all.” matt smiles at them. he takes your hand in his and squeezes. “why not watch it with us? i’m matt, by the way.”

“i’m sage, and this is jasmine. it’s so nice to finally meet you! y/n doesn’t shut up about you.”

“sometimes it gets a little too intense.” jasmine says, but in a joking manner.

“sorry, i love him,” you say coldly. you hear matt giggle.

the girls get comfortable in chairs and join you guys in the movie.

as the minutes go by, you sense that matt starts to calm down a little. the whole time his hand is in yours, playing with the ring he got you for one of your anniversaries.

he chirps into some conversations, and the night is better than you can imagine.

matt wakes up the next morning to the sun beaming through your curtains. what he didn’t wake up to was you.

he looked around the dorm room, but you were nowhere to be seen. he groggily reached to his phone to see if you texted him but instead found a note on top of it.

he started to read the small piece of paper, smiling like a fool while doing so.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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eliotbaum · 11 months

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Them³.

Some people expressed interest in the backstories & relationship between these characters so it’s under a cut. Beware, it’s full of Vallaki spoilers and. very long…….

Lydia Petrovna/Fiona Wachter/my pc Father Dunant

Alright so, a not-so brief overview of each individual’s background and where their stories meet. Mind you, that is everything I currently know about the characters, and I'm pretty sure Lady W is still hiding something.

Lydia Petrovna has always been a frail, meek-hearted woman, but with a kind soul. For what she lacked, her best friend from ever since made up for it; Fiona Wachter was everything she ever wanted to be. Strong, assertive and with force of will.

But Lydia also desired her in a different way, one that went beyond friendship and admiration. Fiona was not aware of those feelings and pursued Nikolai, while Lydia fell for Vargas, despite Fiona’s warnings and wishes for her not to do so. It fell on deaf ears, as Vargas seemed like a genuinely kind man. Suffice to say to those who played the game: the good qualities Lydia loved disappeared over time and he ended up emotionally abusing her, smothering her in a way where she completely lost who she was. Lydia was always desperate to help others despite her constitution and lack of powers or influence, so she thought putting on a bright face and encouraging the "all will be well" ideology would suffice. But she suffered greatly under it, too, coping with solitude and drug/alcohol abuse. Regardless, she kept holding onto hope, believing a better tomorrow will come one day.

Vargas growing more paranoid of everyone ended up manipulating Lydia into believing Fiona and her husband were not to be trusted. And with Lydia’s facade steadily replacing what Fiona loved about her, ultimately drove the friendship to a breaking point after decades.

Fiona Wachter received a prophecy from an oracle (Madame Eva) while she was a young lady. The prophecy foretold of an outsider coming into Vallaki to bring great ruin, but his blood would also bring back sunlight to the town. She believed in this prophecy ever since, all the while pledging allegiance to Ravenloft as a family tradition, which earned her conflicting powers. On one hand, she could perform miracles and harm with radiance, on the other she received darker powers from her pledge. As such, she is also caught between two fronts — wishing for sunlight to shine upon the lands again while serving Ravenloft as is her family tradition. (This is something my PC challenges her with a lot)

This was all kept secret from her best friend as Fiona had always been a cautious woman. Fast forward to her strained relationship with Lydia that broke apart during Nikolai's early death. 2 years before the campaign starts, he died of an illness, and when Fiona turned to Lydia for comfort she didn't receive it. Lydia pretended like everything was fine still, and tried to deflect any mourning or sadness with Vargas’ messed up ideology. Suffice to say, Fiona felt betrayed, bereft, in more ways than one. And then, her daughter, who was to be betrothed to Viktor Vallakovich, Lydia's son, went mad after prolonged contact to Viktor. Fiona went scorched earth and planned an assassination on Vargas ever since.

In comes my lil guy! Father Kasper Dunant, a humanitarian priest always striving to be virtuous, to be of help, but who leaves calamity in his wake for whenever he tries to do good. Up to a point where experimentations with blood healings destroyed his hometown, (if this sounds like Bloodborne. big inspo haha) and he fled — only to get trapped in another ruinous and cursed place. In Vallaki, he helped with the St. Andral church and Father Lucian, Lydia's brother. Vargas also took a liking to him, which resulted to Kasper and Lydia growing closer. He was attracted to her gentle heart, her kindness he found beyond her facade. They became light in each other's darkness.

Meanwhile, Fiona Wachter invited him & the party, intrigued by hearing of outsiders. She had hoped they could be part of her prophecy, and she intended to more or less rope them into her assassination plans. Now this being conflicting with many values and relationships our characters built, the party took a "safer" angle, in which we removed the biggest threat (general Strazni) from town and saved townspeople during riots following the assassination; Lydia being among those saved, who they hid away at the Martikov’s tavern. Lydia, who had fallen for Kasper early on, held onto him as she had lost almost everything (Vargas assassinated, Viktor teleported away) and they both found new hope, comfort and love in eath other.

And in a way, Fiona also freed Lydia of the shackles of her abusive marriage.

Fiona would've taken charge of Vallaki had it not been for Kasper's suggestion to establish a council instead of a single ruler. Consisting of him, Fiona, Vasili (completely different character in our game and not secretly, yknow), a homebrew NPC and Ireena. Fiona and Kasper started to develop this dynamic of push and pull, feeling for how much they can trust and work each other with their opposing views in terms of politics and Ravenloft. But they had one moment where they forged a bond; Kasper, a blood cleric, summoned a mock sun through 'Daylight' for her (my flavor is that he spills blood for some spells).

Voila, exactly what her prophecy foretold. She understood it wasn't real, but Kasper promised her to bring true sunlight back to Barovia. In a moment of fervor, Fiona suggested they could rule the town, the country together.

They are still very cautious but enjoy the tension and mystery they have about each other. Lydia, in the meantime, has been growing conflicting feelings about Fiona. While she was certain old feelings have been put to rest, the things Kasper tells her of Fiona seemingly awakened something again. There's a lot of guilt and hurt there, though, muddled with affection, and Lydia is sorting out her feelings still.

Meanwhile, Fiona still resents Lydia for her weakness. It was always clear how much Fiona cared for Lydia, repeatedly challenging her to put down this mask, to be herself again. And being hurt by seeing her friend lose herself so easily. It's bitter, but Kasper has been meekly trying to calm the waves, to little avail so far.

It is, A Mess to say the least, and Kasper together with Lydia have been growing concerns and worry for Fiona’s safety and ultimately, herself, since she changed so much, became so much darker since her husband’s death. But those two idealists hope there is still a chance to save her 🥺💦

tl;dr young outsider priest becomes entangled in noblewomen’s personal drama while both believe the gods and fate has sent him their way as he tries to mend a broken relationship

#curse of strahd #curse of strahd art #fiona wachter #lydia petrovna #kasper dunant #lydia vallakovich #if you managed to read all this #congrats and i love you #our dm puts a ton of work and thought into npc backstories and connections #bless em #i am so normal abt this game and npcs 🥴

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yandere-sins · 6 months

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You are Astarion's favorite blood sacrifice. He decides to reward you for it.

Characters: Yandere!Ascended!Astarion x GN!Reader Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Warnings: Yandere, Vampires, Reader nearly dies, Blood being mentioned in all manners, Biting, Death mention, Minor sexual hints, Desperation, Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Minor violent acts (not directed at reader except biting)

a/n: I don't have a big Halloween story for you guys, but I've been trying to get back into writing more and I've been working on this story the last couple of days, so I hope you enjoy it ♥ (I mean it's vampires so that's almost Halloween-themed right???)

Darkness is a vampire's best friend.

It shields them, hides them, benefits them—all without expecting something in return. It's nature's way of making up for all the pain and suffering it put its less loved children of the night through, and they welcome it, moonlight glistening on their skin, their perception so much sharper without the fear of sunlight's burn.

Like eager partners in crime, a vampire's gifts are amplified by what the darkness provides. They stalk in the shadowy coat of the night; see the prey that wants to stay unseen. Their voices, mellow and honeyed, sound even sweeter, whispered in the ears of those who wander into the vampire's hunting grounds as the creatures lure their prey with promises of grandeur. Fame, money, lust. It seems to be all that their food desires. What more could someone want who's unaware of being tricked? And so they follow wherever the masters of night command them.

Deeper and deeper into the darkness.

"Hello, darling."

You came to hate it—all of it. The darkness, the night.

The whispers and touches, promises and the hunt. You knew he had many more like you, living blood banks stored in cold, dark cells. You heard them scream every night when the bell rang twelve, the darkest hour of the day. Sometimes, you recognized the cries as the ones from days before, but you never knew when would be the last time you'd hear the poor souls lost in the darkness. New ones came and went, but you were the only one that remained after every night.

Somewhere between three and four months, you lost count of the days spent here. You tried to remember how many times you'd been visited, but one miscount, and now you didn't know if it had been one or ten years. You would have expected to get mad in the darkness, alone and aching from your shoulders to your ankles, with no place on your body unbitten. But Astarion was punctual—perhaps the only good quality about him. That was the only thing to keep you grounded down here.

He didn't miss a single day of feeding or, as he called it, spending time with you.

Alongside your meal, he showed up at exactly midnight every night, someone always there to close the door behind him without fail. You had never seen his face, but you had felt it plenty of times beneath your fingertips, enough to know he was one of those handsome bloodsuckers who kidnapped and locked you here. At least for now, as long as you were pretty enough in his eyes as well. Eyes that you felt creeping over your body the moment the only door to the outside opened, only more darkness waiting behind it. They mustered you, devoured you perhaps, an appetizer before the main course.

You knew nothing of your nightly visitor besides his punctuality and his name. There was no face to associate it with, just the feeling of his cold skin and the sharp pain of his fangs in your memory. And yet, something told you he was special even among his kind. Somewhat… superior. He still had the capability to be gentle if he wanted, never causing you to cry out in agony like the other sacrificial lambs did. And more importantly, after all this time, you were sure he was the one keeping you alive.

"Astarion," you greeted him, simply, calmly. Hiding the shiver in your voice despite the room growing colder ever since he stepped inside. It was hard to say if you were still afraid of death when it was a constant threat like a noose hanging above your head. Perhaps you dreaded surviving more than dying if you thought about it, your heart growing heavier with fear and loneliness every day. But at the same time, you grew more and more desensitized to the screams and pain and more used to the darkness.

Hugging your body with one arm, you used the other to walk along the wall to your chair, the wood creaking as you sat down, scooting it closer to the table. He liked it when you did what he wanted without him having to ask you to. Astarion's steps were non-existent, but you needn't wait for or invite him to join you. You could always count on his chest pressing against your back the moment you sat down as he leaned over you from behind. It was a familiar yet suppressive feeling. A reminder of your position.

You were below him, prey to be consumed. Yet, he treated you more like a pet, almost beloved, but at best, you were well-cared for. You doubted he could feel anything towards you that wasn't belittling. You'd not thrive in the darkness on your own, but Astarion knew how to keep you alive. A waft of roasted chicken drifted into your nose, hearty and mouth-watering, and you had no doubts it would be accompanied by sides that would nourish the dire lack of vitamins you had. He had always insisted on you finishing your plate, feeding you himself if he had to. It couldn't go that you'd not eat what he graciously provided. But this was the only meal you were given every day, and the loss of blood made you too hungry to strike.

You tried once. For almost a week, you starved yourself until you could not do it anymore. Continuing not to eat when you were starving and food was served in masses to you cost too much willpower that you didn't have. Likewise, eating the food with the condition that you had to sit on his lap and thank him for every measly pea he fed you one after the other was enough humiliation to never try that again. And Astarion had been happy since with your plate wiped clean.

"You smell delightfully today," he mused as he drew back from the table. You felt his lips brush over your bare shoulder, your breath hitching when he pressed them to the nape of your neck. You'd not put it past him to eat before you, even though he seemed satisfied waiting for you to finish most of the time.

"Garbor gave me new soap today. Roses, I think," you breathed, reaching forward to the cutlery that, no doubt, laid beside the plate Astarion brought. It just appeared, almost magically. But you were pretty sure it was there all along, Garbor, the guard, probably cleaning and switching it out while you were asleep. You didn't even know if his name was Garbor; you merely decided to call him that. After all, no one would speak to you here aside from Astarion, even if you knew they existed in the shadows.

"Sure, if that's what you want to believe," Astarion chuckled, his comment profoundly unsettling as you knew what he meant when he said you smelled nice. Your blood. To him, you must have smelled as mouth-wateringly as your meal did to you. You had always empathized with animals, wishing for them to live their lives as best as possible, even if they were destined to be slaughtered. Ironic, now that you were cattle to a vampire, likely being fed according to Astarion's tastes.

"Next time, I think I'd like something citrusy again. The last soap was divine."

His hands driving up your arms made you nervous. They were unfettered by your movements as you aimlessly tried to pierce meat and vegetables onto your fork, your eyes never adjusting to the complete darkness of the basement cellar. You weren't a vampire, after all. Despite the time spent down here, the broken fear and authority between you two, he could still make you nervous. And you talked when you were anxious, to the point you wanted to bite your own tongue off.

A mix of a chuckle and a scoff escaped him as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, his nails resting softly against your throat while his thumbs ran up and down the sides of your spine in feathery touches. Slowly, reassuring you of his presence. And the ability to snap your neck with this formidable cut-throat necklace. He readjusted his touch a few times until his pointer fingers pressed against your pulse on one side, your gullet on the other. Enough for you to eat and breathe, but you didn't dare to move your head.

"I shall tell… Garbor, to fetch that for you. Anything else? Another pillow? A new shirt? Would my darling fancy some earrings? We just so happen to have someone donate a wonderful pair of rubies that would look so beautifully dangling from your ears."

A shudder went through you; the word 'donate' was not one to take kindly. People donated to charities and beggars. Not to someone who could put meat on a plate every day for you and obviously had no saintly bone in his body. Gulping down the chicken that got stuck on your tongue as you listened to the sultry voice of your captor, you put down the fork for a moment to think, clearing your throat as best as you could with his hands still pretending to be a necklace.

"A candle maybe, and a book. I feel like now's a great time to pick up a new hobby."

You heard the grin spread on Astarion's lips as he chuckled, his thumbs curling inwards until you felt his nails press against your skin. "I do so very like those entertaining ideas of yours, sweetling. But alas, I'm afraid I cannot give you that. You'd end up preferring the book over my company!"

"How could I ever, Sir? I wasn't planning on going on a paper diet."

This time, he actually burst out into laughter, hands disappearing into the darkness as you presumed he held his stomach from the ache of amusement. You wasted no time to stuff two more bites into your mouth as long as you had the freedom that was oh-so short-lived. His hands banging on the table in front of you created an explosive sound in the small confinement you called home. Compared to the cold body pressed against you, his breath skimmed your ear warmly, his voice like honey dripping right into your ear.

"That's why you're my favorite. Those little witty comments of yours have saved you so many times, you know?"

The food you were so eager to sneak into your mouth now threatened to fall out of it as you couldn't find the strength to swallow. Some instinctual part of you waited for him to attack, exploit your vulnerable self. It readied you, muscles tense, body paying attention to everything it could perceive (which was shamefully little with your senses so inferior to the vampire). But then there was the rational part of your brain, currently occupied with the warmth of his breath gracing your ear and cheek, and his words.

Favorite. You were his favorite.

You forced yourself to finish chewing, slowly, embarrassingly aware of Astarion waiting for another 'witty' remark from his favorite. Favorite late-night amusement? Favorite person to take care of? Favorite blood bag? You felt his eyes drilling into your jaw expectantly as you chewed your food properly before you leaned forward to reach for the cup of water that was unmistakably always on the table. Perhaps because of the darkness, you were so very aware of your hair brushing his nose and the deep inhale it caused Astarion to take before he pressed his face into it, gripping a bunch of it with one hand and forcing you to halt.

"You're my undoing, pet."

"Really?" you said in your most convincing, surprised voice, trying your hardest to sound as fake as possible. Revealing his thoughts to you might have given you a chance to bargain with him, even though this cell and the darkness had long become much safer than anything he could offer. In reality, you knew better than to trust the words of a vampire, yet found yourself truly surprised about the reverence they were spoken with. "It's hard to imagine I could do such a thing. I'm just sitting here."

Astarion hummed, amused, satisfied with your remark once again. Another chance at life, how you noted duly. Perhaps he liked the challenge of you playing his game, neither of you ever speaking the whole truth and coating your words in sarcasm and fake friendliness. Or maybe vampires were accompanied by madness that made them prefer prey who didn't cave as easily into a begging, sobbing mess. Prey like you.

"It's been years—no, decades since I last took a liking in someone, and you have no idea how much I longed for companionship like yours. It's exciting and a bit of a tease. I couldn't bring myself to kill you yet."

"How very gracious of you," you praised, hoping he didn't pay close attention to your face, a grimace edging into your features.

"You know, I might even be convinced to return you to the light. If you ask, nicely."

And suddenly, there it was. You gulped as you felt your stomach twist anxiously, suddenly attacked by something you had long abandoned. Hope. A glimmer of it, at least. You remembered the days when you had still banged at the door, demanding and reasoning with anyone who'd hear you to release and let you go home. The early nights when you dreamed about the sun and the warmth of being surrounded by people. And now the time had finally come to reclaim those wishes, almost bringing you down to your knees.

You knew you couldn't be so foolish as to retort to being a boring, begging nobody. You had to be his favorite. Crawling over the dirty floor and clinging to him for dear life wasn't going to cut it, no matter how much you wanted to. Because yes! Yes to the surface, yes to leaving all of this behind. Escaping him would be much easier when you weren't locked in the darkness. You had waited so long for the sweet embrace of death and endured so much pain when you were forced to survive pitifully like this. You even became his favorite. And now it was paying off—if you played your cards right.

"Ah… I don't know," you sighed. You could hear your own voice, thin and nervous. Excited. Your mouth was dry, but your heart was banging against your rips. Undoubtedly, he knew that, but you hoped Astarion would forgive your very appropriate reaction. Maybe even fancy it.

Every flinch of your muscles and every word carefully uttered was driven by a hope that Astarion could easily crush if he disapproved. You never saw yourself as exceptionally talented with words, but if that was what he wanted, he should have it. Your mom would scold you for being a brat, but this vampire here favored your attitude enough to keep you alive, so it had to be good for something. "I was just starting to get comfortable here. It's so… cozy."

"Well, I have it cozy up there as well. Cushioned chairs and silk sheets—only the best for my best."

It was strange to hear his voice in the same tone as his usual banter, even though you could detect another tone swinging in the background. It was but an insignificant waver, one of uncertainty and doubt. Desperation. Maybe not as much as you, but he wanted you to agree, his reasons unclear. And yet, your heart setting out a beat must have given away that you recognized his wish since he added, "You were always a marvel. But imagine how good you'd look by my side up there. My consort. My favorite."

"W-Well, are the beds soft?" you pressed out quickly, trying to avoid the sensual allure of his voice being murmured into your ear. You didn't mean to stutter, biting your own tongue before deciding to calm yourself with deep, quiet breaths that you hoped he didn't notice. But you knew that everything he said went straight to the unreasonable part of your mind, the one a vampire knew to manipulate so well. But in your desire to get out of here, eagerness and giving in too easily could cost you everything.

"Very," he mused, and you were relieved to hear him still in good spirits, his next words almost a lilt. "Soft and warm. Like you."

"And the food?" you asked, gulping. You didn't care for the beds or the food.

"Oh, the food!"

His exclamation caught you by surprise, as did the sudden disappearance of his body. For a moment, you thought you had ruined your chance. Had gone too far with your hesitance. But next you knew, you felt his hand fall to your shoulder again, running down your arm until he had your wrist in his palm, lifting it to his face. Astarion planted one kiss below your thumb, then moved on to kissing the pulse beneath it.

"It's delightful! Delectable! The best you ever had. And me for dessert. You won't lack anything, I promise."

His promise meant very little to you, and yet, as he littered your wrist with kisses, you couldn't help but cave. It was everything about this situation, the hope, the reverent kisses, the empty promises, that blinded you from the danger. You hadn't questioned his intentions or the price you'd have to pay. Not when he spoke to you as if he was laying the world at your feet, promising you the moon, the stars, and everything beyond.

"Ask me, pet, and you can have it all. The luxuries, the world, me. All you have to do is ask, darling."

There they were, the simple, honeyed words every human wanted to hear. All feeding into your own desperation so perfectly as if they were made just for you. As if you were the only suffering fool in this world, and perhaps to Astarion, you were. The grin curling his lips upwards against your wrist revealed just how much of a fool he took you for when you opened your mouth again.

"I…" you hesitated. But not long enough. You had too much to lose, despite not knowing what you were going to lose agreeing to this. "I want to go to the surface."

"Do you now?" he smirked, and you felt the hard edge of his teeth as his lips parted in a wide grin.

"I want to, Sir. I want to be your favorite. I want to be by your side. Please take me with you."

For a moment, there was silence, then Astarion let out a hum of satisfaction followed by a deep breath.

"Oh, you are, darling. You are my favorite. I've longed for this moment for so long, yearned for it every damned day and night, and finally, it's here. Let's be together forever, alright? It'll hurt only a little, and then we'll always be together."

"What will hurt?" you asked before you felt the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into your arm. You knew this pain, the searing burn of his fangs piercing your skin. You had felt it a hundred times, no, a thousand. But this one was short-lived, blood dripping from your hand as you bit your lip, holding back the tears. No one liked tears, and you were too close to your goal to ruin it now.

"Endure it," he purred, and it was almost a shame that he noticed, considering how much you fought yourself to keep your composure. "You'll have to bare this beautiful neck of yours if you want to be mine, darling."

There was another moment of hesitation, the taut skin of your neck always hurting the most if he bit it. But why even did he have to bite you? What good were two more bites of you in this dark cell when he could assume you'd be at his beck and call upstairs as well? Astarion couldn't know of your feeble escape plans yet, so he had no reason to doubt your devotion. And even if he did, wouldn't he enjoy feeding from you in one of the more comfortable beds he mentioned?

But pondering was of no use to you. You had to comply if you wanted your dreams to come true. Turning towards him and laying your head to the side, you could feel your hair fall out of the way, baring your neck so beautifully. "Yes, Sir," was your short, meager reply, and yet your arm immediately fell to your side, one of Astarion's hands wrapping around the back of your head while the other weighed down on your shoulder, keeping you in place.

"That's a good pet," he mumbled, face inching closer to your body with every spoken word. You braced yourself for the pain, the burning, the mess it would make, and you took it like a champ, which you probably were after all those bites—at first. However, all the bites before eventually ended. They never lasted more than a few minutes at worst. But not this one, and that's when you realized your mistake.

You gasped as you reached for him, grabbing his clothes like a lifeline to hold onto. Tears fell freely as the pain didn't stop, your body growing lighter while Astarion had little problems keeping you in place. "It hurts!" you sobbed as your thoughts became less reasonable, less controlled. Everything began to swim, and though you were sitting, you felt like you were going to fall. But even as you struggled to stay conscious, Astarion didn't stop, didn't care.

By the time you realized you were going to die, it was already much too late. Your life was drained out of you with all of your blood. At least you didn't have to feel the pain of your crushed hope or the desperation of, once again, being stuck in this cold and lonely darkness. If you were honest, you looked forward to escaping all of this, as had been your destiny for so long. At least this way, you'd be free, too. Differently than you thought, but free nonetheless.

"Mhm, darling. Even now, you're ravishingly beautiful."

You could hear the voice, but your body had no blood left to supply your brain, so it could understand anything. You didn't even feel his uncharacteristically warm fingers smear a thick fluid to your lips, slipping in to coat your tongue, reflexes working even when you were as good as dead.

"And you're mine. All mine."

At least you wouldn't have to die in this dark cell, though you had no strength left to think about what shithole you'd be thrown into instead. Your body was but a sack of skin and bones in his arms as he carried you outside, your head empty like your blood vessels. But even as you lay dying in Astarion's arms, getting carried away, you knew one thing for sure: You hated it. The pain and the blood. The cold and this evil man that had held you like a cattle for so long only to kill you just like everyone else in the end. You hated him. You hated everything.

And most, you hated the darkness that continued to surround you, enveloping you mercilessly as it cooperated with your murderer. Unaware that you, too, were meant to succumb to it. That your dying body was changing into that of a child of the night, a spawn to the very same lonely vampire you so willingly promised eternity to in exchange for what you believed had been your path to 'freedom'. The same freedom you'd never have now.

Because you were his favorite.

And he'd never let his favorite spawn leave.

664 notes · View notes

seravphs · 9 months

Text

Act One, Chapter One: half agony, half hope

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

Main Masterlist | AO3

wc — 10k

tags — royal au, knight gojo, princess reader, forbidden love, ballroom scene, dancing, court politics, blood, minor character death, period-typical misogyny, complicated relationships with fathers, secret meetings, flouting social etiquette by sneaking out to meet your childhood best friend who is also your loyal knight, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Next: the beginning of devotion (coming soon)

He was so still Shoko almost mistook him for a dead body. It was a common misunderstanding in her line of business, but not one she was usually startled by. As a poisoner, legally and officially a herbalist, the occasional corpse on her table wasn’t such an unexpected occurrence. A lord, on the other hand, was.

Especially if it was him.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t just a lord. He was the son of the former Hand of the King, the greatest swordsman in living history, and connected to the princess. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t know the Gojo name. It was synonymous with the royal house itself as the clan that had produced scores of advisors to the king. In nearly every generation, the heir to the throne was accompanied by a Gojo, acting as a living sword and shield.

But even with that storied history, this one was special. A young man who had risen to prominence during The Silent War, he returned home from hell as a knight unlike any other. The bards would adore him. They already did.

Most generals earned their titles by leading campaigns. Gojo hadn’t needed one. He turned the tides of the war as a single man army. They had started calling him a grim reaper, a god of death.

Shoko disliked him on principle, but she couldn’t kill a man like that. They’d have her head on a pike. She didn’t mind the idea of dying so much. What she did shrink from was the idea of dying painfully.

The princess was known for abstaining from most decisions involving the crown despite being in line to inherit it, but Shoko somehow doubted that she would remain so passive if her favorite knight was murdered. Thankfully, Gojo let out a soft breath to show her that he did remain among the living.

“I thought you died,” she remarked.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She said something else, but Gojo wasn’t listening anymore. He was floating through a shapeless world again, chasing that moment. It slipped away from him despite his redoubled attempts to capture it. He remembered the tang of iron in his mouth. Blood spraying in the air, a mist that he could smell and taste. The leather grip of his sword in his hands, slippery with sweat.

He was trying to win back enlightenment, briefly attained and lost again just as quickly on the battlefield. A feeling of deep and solid peace had settled over him as he hacked through bodies, as if that was what he was meant to do. It should’ve concerned him. He already confused the ever thinning boundary between man and monster. That bloodshed brought him such euphoric tranquility could only mean it was growing worse, but he hated things he couldn’t understand.

He needed to experience it again. Just one more time, so he could make sense of it. The smell of blood. Wading through the dead and the dying, thigh deep in gore - it was no use. Frustrated, he let it go.

There was something soothing about the cracks in the ceiling. He stared up at it, letting his breaths come as shallowly as they had while he had been immersed in his meditative state. Shoko’s basement was chilly and dark, but it was necessary for the illegal autopsies she performed at his request. Those, and the poisons she crafted for him, were its primary purpose. It was only a stroke of luck that these qualities were also helpful for his attempts to recover his short-lived state of grace.

He was tempted to try again, but not today. There was someone too precious to keep waiting if he delayed any longer. He wouldn’t impose upon her the way he often imposed on the elder lords who tried to remind him of his place by pulling rank. While they deserved his spite, she didn’t.

Even Shoko was surprised by his sudden desire for punctuality. “You’re not going to stay?”

“I have a princess to rescue,” he said. “Dragons to slay, things of that nature.”

Shoko scoffed. “You are the dragon they have to save princesses from.”

Well, Gojo thought as he hurried down the corridor, she wasn’t wrong. He was sure others agreed with her. He didn’t waste his time with children’s tales anymore, but he remembered his mother’s voice whispering to him in the dark, curled around him in his bed. A dragon was a tool to lock princesses away. His presence deterred anyone from coming too near to his princess, so by that definition, he was most certainly a dragon.

Gojo found that he was a little proud of himself for that. Thinking of his mother had made him nostalgic. He thought she might be proud too, that he had taken such good care of the princess she herself had looked after. A dragon might trap, but it also guarded and hoarded. He had polished his princess like a treasure, lavishing her with attention until she had become a gem.

She was beautiful.

He was a soldier, so he had long since rid himself of the ability to lose his breath, but if he still could, he would’ve choked at the sight of her when he broke past the doors. She was seated so that the eye of anyone who entered the ballroom would be drawn to her first, but he would’ve found her regardless. He had promised.

Wherever you were, he would always find you.

It’s difficult to hide, being as tall as he is, but Gojo managed. He didn’t want you to see him coming. Already, he has to bite his lip to fight down his smile as he draws closer and closer. A few more steps, a detour to duck behind some random noble, and he’s in front of you.

“May I?” You don’t have a chance to speak before he’s already dragging a chair closer.

The smile on your face doesn’t match the harsh delivery of your words. “The next time you leave me alone with these miserable fools, I’ll order you to fall on your sword.”

Gojo laughs, unfazed. “Good choice. You’re too pretty to get your hands dirty. Although, you are a bit more murderous than expected for a princess.”

“You try putting up with Naoya’s simpering gibberish for an hour.”

“I don’t have to.” He slips into the chair beside you, avoiding you neatly when you try to trip him. “Watch your feet, my lady. People like me don’t have to put up with Naoya.”

People like you shouldn’t have to, either. You’re both higher ranking than he is, a princess and a lord each, yet Gojo’s the only one who gets to escape his painful-to-witness affections.

It’s only natural. A royal dowry comes attached to you. Any eligible man would have to be an idiot not to fight for your hand, but really, they’re vying for a chance at kingship. You can’t go one day without someone reminding you that you’re a physical embodiment of the crown, something to want and own.

Gojo pours himself water with a heavy hand, bypassing the wine. Watching him sip at it, you realize you’ve actually never seen him drink.

“Come now,” he says, a little softer. “Don’t look so desolate. What will I do if everyone sees you pouting? You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“You don’t have a reputation to ruin.”

“Don’t underestimate the things I’d do for the smallest sign of joy from you. Shall I procure one right now to destroy for your amusement?”

You know he wants you to smile, but you can’t. Even if Gojo can usually pry laughter from you with the ease of a trained jester, this time, your sadness weighs over you like a heavy wool cloak. It’s your birthday, but it’s not a happy occasion. Every passing year tightens the noose around your neck.

You’re a princess, and that means your life was arranged for you before you breathed your first breath. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve never had a choice.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make that face,” he says. “I’d marry you. If it came down to it, I’d take care of you.”

His words nearly cause you to spill your drink all over your finely embroidered dress. If it set in, it would never come out. He grasps your hand just as the cup begins to tip, saving you.

“Did you mistake your water for wine?” It’s a genuine question from you.

He waves his goblet around carelessly. You’re worried he might be actually drunk, but you smell no alcohol on him. He couldn’t get inebriated from just a sip, anyway. Whatever wild whims have overtaken him tonight are entirely of his own design.

“Better me than Naoya, no? I’d keep you safe.” He cracks a crooked smile in your direction, like you’re sharing a secret. “Admit it. I’d be a good husband. If I were around, you’d be untouchable.”

He’s telling the truth. If Gojo Satoru was your husband, no one would dare anything with you, but you chase the idea from your mind as quickly as Gojo plants it. You’re your father’s daughter, raised on his practicality. You don’t waste time on pipe dreams. Better the hideous truth than a lie costumed in beauty - the bite of thorns was infinitely preferable to the impermanent fantasy of petals.

Instead of answering him, you push your plate in his direction. You don’t even have to ask. Gojo dutifully takes your knife and fork in hand to cut up your meat. “Not even going to consider it, princess? I’m hurt. That was a serious offer, you know.”

“You’re insufferable. Be quiet and eat.”

Gojo’s mother used to say that the more adamantly someone denied something, the closer to the truth it likely was. You can only hope Gojo doesn’t remember, because she was right. The reason you won’t give him even an inch on the topic of marriage is because a proposal from him is the only thing you want but can’t have.

Predictably, he ignores you. He’s never known when to quit. With so little that can genuinely stand in his way, Gojo has difficulty understanding the concept of a limitation. You’re both spoiled in that sense, noble children who had never been told no.

“Think about it,” he says casually. “We’d be invincible. What other house could stand before our union?”

“I said- hello, father.”

“A little early to be calling- oh, hello, Your Majesty. You look well tonight. Is that a new ring?”

Your father cuffs Gojo around the ears. “Brat.”

He’s in a good mood, then.

“My little girl,” he says to you. “How pretty you look. I’m surprised no one has stolen you away from me yet.”

You’re not so little anymore, but you forgive him. It’s just the two of you, ever since the queen died. He’s the reason you are what you are, as cultivated as a rose in a greenhouse. The climate that nurtured you is one carefully tailored by his own hand.

“Not for lack of trying,” Gojo says brightly.

“Boy,” your father calls him, despite the fact that Gojo isn’t a boy either. A deep sigh escapes his lungs. He looks truly sorrowful for a moment. “You look just like your mother.”

Gojo’s smile freezes on his face. It’s true, he does. Through him, the king’s former hand lives again, but you know Gojo doesn’t want to be seen as an extension of her, even if he misses her more than anything.

You’re familiar with the way your father knows exactly what to say to make you feel small again. The king is someone who exudes power. His uncanny ability to pick out what you’re most sensitive to and exploit it makes even the most proud of noblemen revert to children in his presence, as if they’ve been scolded by a nanny for stealing tarts from the kitchen. It’s strange that you feel the need to protect Gojo, the strongest person you know, from that.

He reaches out and pats Gojo’s cheek now that he’s reduced him to silence. “Enjoy the night, my dear child.”

When he leaves, Gojo slumps back in his chair with a tick in his jaw. Even if the king is your father, he can’t help himself. “Nasty old man,” he mutters.

You pinch his thigh beneath the table. “Smile and look pretty.”

“Ugh, who is it now?”

“Lord Zenin and his son haven’t gotten their fill of tormenting me.”

“Hm,” Gojo says. “I wonder.”

“If you have a plan to avoid them, hurry. They’re nearly here.”

“I don’t know,” he teases. “I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like conversation with Sir Zenin very much either.”

He grabs your hand. “Then you’ll forgive me for anything that happens tonight?”

“Anything is questionable, but do as you please.”

He tugs you from your seat, pulling you through the crowd of people. Caught in his wake, you float past faces familiar and unfamiliar until the patriarch of House Zenin and his infernal spawn fade behind you.

When you turn to face him again, he’s dipped into a bow. His smile is sweet, boyish. It’s as if you’re children again, and he’s stolen you from your lessons to waltz in an empty ballroom, motes of dust that you’ve stirred up floating in the sunbeams.

He extends his hand, a sapphire burning on one finger. A dragon curls around the silver band of the ring, a nod to his heritage. Though the Gojos are a powerful and ancient house, in this moment, Gojo looks young, foolish, and all the better for it.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

You giggle, wishing you had a fan to pretend to hide behind. You’re playing pretend again, acting as if you’re characters from a storybook.

“I’d be delighted to, my lord.”

The music swells. Gojo takes your hand and presses a kiss to your bare knuckles. His lips are soft against your skin, temptation incarnate. In his grasp, your fingers tremble slightly, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away.

You’re terrified by how much you want him.

If you let him in for one second, you can imagine how easy it would be to never stop. He’s every one of your desires and hopes made manifest, tied up in a single person. Although it’s impossible, you still feel the heat of him. The warmth of his lips linger on you, a stolen moment before he sweeps you up in his arms.

This is how you remember he’s a boy no longer. The breadth of his shoulders is wide. He’s lost the roundness of youth, his face growing angular and cunning. There’s solid muscle underneath your hands as he pulls you with him, his feet beating a steady rhythm that you have to fight to keep up with.

He’s doing it on purpose, you know, testing how much you still retained all of those years of tutoring. You’re determined to show him they weren’t for naught.

When you catch your breath and master the music once more, gliding with him rather than being tugged along, he smiles like he always expected you to. He’s been like this since you were young, dangling challenges in front of you that he’s equally as excited to see you pass as fail.

The music slows. All around you, the frantic steps melt into slow swaying. You’re feeling brave tonight, so you step closer. You allow the arm curled more tightly around your waist, the tender look in his eyes. When you steal a glance around, no one is watching the two of you, but how far can you go before you lose it all?

“Don’t talk to Naoya again,” he murmurs against your skin. It tickles, and you squirm until he presses so close it petrifies you. “I don’t like the rumors around him.”

“What rumors?”

“Bad ones. He tumbles girls and leaves them with nothing. Hurts them, takes whatever he wants, and ruins their lives. I don’t trust him, and especially not with you.” His hand smoothes over a stray ruffle on your petticoat, the gesture impossibly loving. “Never with you, princess.”

You shudder at the way he says princess, feeling cut open, exposed. What has gotten into him tonight? You don’t understand. It feels like drowning, your brain always three steps behind, struggling to break the waves of your confusion.

You know you’re weak. It’s your name that protects you, the threat of your father and the royal house behind you. Alone, you’re a lamb to slaughter. You’ve been spoiled your whole life, leaving you naive and helpless.

Gojo is someone you trust implicitly. He’s always protected you. You’ve relied on him for as long as you’ve been alive, but perhaps that’s conditioned you to feel comfortable putting your hand into the mouth of the beast. Even at the chance of exposing how poorly you’ve been trained for the court’s schemes, you don’t hold back when you’re with him. He makes you feel at ease to speak freely without fearing how much you’ll reveal of your own vulnerabilities.

“I can’t,” you tell him honestly. “House Zenin is one of the Three Great Houses. I can’t refuse Naoya without good reason.”

“Then marry me,” he says softly. “Marry me and be done with all of this. They don’t deserve you, anyway. They won’t treat you like I will.”

You close your eyes, feeling the telltale hotness of incoming tears burn behind your eyelids. Why did he do this to you? He was so gentle it hurt, even though you knew he was capable of terrible things. Somehow that made it worse, the knowledge that he was choosing to be kind.

“You should go,” you say instead.

Marriage between you and Gojo would never happen. Forget your father. An alliance between the strongest house and the royal house? It would be akin to tyranny. There would be blood in the streets before any of the other nobles would allow it. It’s better not to dream about impossible desires.

Thorns, not petals, you remind yourself. You can suffer the truth.

“Why?” He says. “I want to stay with you. I want to be good to you.”

“This isn’t something to joke about, Satoru.” He looks like he’d rather you have slapped him. “Never talk to me about this again. Find someone else to dance with.”

There. Your brain snags on something to distract you. You’ve been dancing with him for too long. It’ll reflect poorly on your reputation to give an unmarried man so much of your attention.

“Pick another partner,” you urge him.

His brow creases. Stubbornly, he holds onto you even tighter. “Don’t want to.”

“You have to. Everyone will whisper. I’m surprised they aren’t already.”

“Then let them,” he pleads. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Regretfully, you pull away. Darkness clouds his beautiful face. It’s unnatural. When you remember him, he’s always smiling. The instances when he directs a genuine frown at you are few and far between, but you’ve already made your decision.

Gojo stalks off in search of a new partner. Somehow, even though you were the one who forced him to leave, your heart stings to watch his back fade into the distance. If you didn’t want him to go, you shouldn’t have said anything. This is what you hoped for. Still, it’s painful.

You want to find somewhere to rest after your spat, drained from a rare argument with him, but nowhere is secluded enough for you to let your guard down. Suddenly, you feel a wave of hatred for your stupid, glittering palace and the stupid, glittering fools infesting it. You just fought with your best friend and you’re tired, but you still have to keep up appearances.

Somewhere nearby, Gojo is spinning another girl, her skirts flaring out around them. You wish you could press your palms to your eyes, letting the pressure relieve your headache, but you’ve shown enough weakness tonight. Instead, you tilt your head back and breathe, trying to appear calm and in control.

It’s a good thing you restrained yourself, because Naoya is the one that finds you. His shoes are the first thing you see, black leather with steel accents. Steel, not silver, because he wants it to hurt when he kicks.

You know. You’ve heard the stories.

“Abandoned by Satoru, my lady?” You hate the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Gojo makes it sound so intimate, like it’s for you and him only. Naoya’s version is a bastardization, much like the man himself.

You’re too tired to deal with him, and yet, you’ll have to. House Zenin is important to your father and thus, important to you, especially when you inevitably replace him. “What are you insinuating about your princess, Sir Zenin?”

You use the proper address, the way he should’ve spoken about Gojo. They’re not close enough for him to be calling the other man by his first name.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “Don’t get defensive now.”

You want to tell one of the knights stationed around the hall to drag him away. Instead, you smile and let him prattle on. Court politics. If you ever want to prove to your father you deserve everything you’ve been born into, you have to play the game. No matter how terrible some of the players are.

“Since you graced Satoru with one, I hope you wouldn’t mind another dance.”

Turning him down isn’t an option, but when you see that everyone’s watching, you realize even more how much it really isn’t an option. He probably arranged it that way too. Demonspawn. You’d curse his house if you could, instead, you offer him your hand, cringing internally when he tries kissing it.

You can’t help but compare the two. Gojo did it better.

Like any son of a high born house, Naoya’s a good dancer. It’s the one compliment you’re willing to grace him with, as everything else about him, especially his personality, is hideous. His hand is solid against your upper back, the other leading you as you spin around the room. It makes you want to scrub yourself clean, even under the layers of clothes.

You’re doing this for your house. Your throne. This is nothing. None of your mantras diminish your desire to shove Naoya’s head in the cake waiting at the banquet table.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he tells you.

“Forwardness is unbecoming in a man,” you say with a smile, as if he’s telling you the sweetest nothings. “What would my father say?”

“Don’t play coy, princess. We both know how this ends.”

“Please excuse me,” you say as soon as the song ends. One is enough. “I find myself rather dizzy.”

Naoya’s lips whiten with anger. He tries to grab your wrist, but someone steps between you. “Watch your hands with Her Royal Highness, Zenin. I won’t tolerate your disrespect.”

Naoya’s eyes flash, but the interloper is sweeping you away already. His hands hover above your dress, never actually touching, as he guides you in the opposite direction.

“Sir Getou, what are you doing?”

Getou looks down on you in amusement once you’re a safe distance away. “Satoru sent me to rescue you, of course. I didn’t think he was serious when he said you would get into trouble without him.”

“Trouble finds me,” you reply archly.

“Yes, yes,” he placates, sparking annoyance even though he just saved you from Naoya. “Are you tired of dancing yet, or do you have room for one more? I’m hoping to make an impression on potential wives by dancing with the princess.”

You’re smart enough to know that one more is rarely truly one more, but Getou did save you from Naoya. Besides, if you’re busy with him, no one else can ask for your hand.

“I suppose I can spare you a dance.”

Like Gojo, Getou is an adept dancer. He is, after all, a trained court noble, and the sons of House Getou are unusually predisposed to the arts in any case. If the Gojos are known for their strength, the Getous are known for their crafts.

Getou doesn’t flinch from your unwavering gaze. If anything, he seems to find it amusing, although in the way one would find a puppy amusing. Gently, he leads you around the ballroom.

“Stay alert, my lady. Someone’s watching you,” Getou warns.

You follow his gaze to Gojo. There’s a beautiful woman in his arms that takes you no time at all to place, so infamous is her notoriety. Yuki of House Tsukumo is second only to Gojo in her blatant disrespect for everything the elders held dear.

They make a striking couple. Everywhere they go, heads turn to watch them pass. Her gold to his silver, her lion to his dragon - it would be a powerful match. They would be perfect for each other, if only because no one would be able to challenge each other like they could.

Excellent dancers each, together they become an instrument for the music to shine through. Getou is gentle with you, each movement as delicate as lilies floating across the surface of a pond. In contrast, Gojo and Yuki dance like they’re fighting, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. They’re magnetic, drawing every eye in the room to watch them.

Everyone else may be entranced by the pair of them, but the pair itself seems disinterested in the crowd around them. Yuki’s eyes are closed but Gojo-

Gojo’s looking at you. Your cheeks heat with his attention. His stare is intense, eyes half-lidded. Every move is prowling, almost predatory. His eyes remain fixated on your face as he and Yuki move in a complicated, sinuous series of circles. There’s something impossibly filthy about his gaze. It borders on indecency, combined with the way he barely seems to be paying attention to dancing, giving you all of his focus instead.

“We can’t let them steal all the attention,” Getou says. He really is Gojo’s brother-in-arms. “Let’s give them a show.”

You’ve never been trained in statecraft, but you’ve been given the very finest of tutors in the elegant manners of the court. A show, as Getou puts it, is more than within your capabilities. You close your senses to the rest of the world, focusing on the shift of your skirts and Getou’s quiet voice as your steps weave intricate patterns across the floor.

He’s a naturally friendly man. It’s easy to talk to him, whispering between each peak in the music. Although he’s friends with Gojo, your social circles rarely overlap enough for you to spend much time in Getou’s company. You’re almost surprised by how much you enjoy it.

“I think it’s time to change partners,” calls a familiar voice.

As Getou takes the hands of Lady Yuki, her eyes still closed as she sways, someone takes his place. Gojo’s hand slides from where Getou’s were placed appropriately on your upper back down to your hip. You drag them back up, ignoring his pout. He’ll be your last dance of the night.

“Should I be worried about being replaced?” He murmurs.

“It was only one turn,” you tell him.

“And I never want to do it again,” he says. “The other girls don’t dance like you do.”

He’s an unrepentant liar. You might have been tutored by the best dancers your father could find, but at this level, first and second place might as well be interchangeable. He’s only saying it so you know that he wanted to come back to you, despite the fact that you forced him away.

Gojo’s a contradiction wrapped inside a paradox, at once sadistic and merciful. No one’s capable of making you feel as much as he does. Without the guidance of formal tutors to give you the education of a prince, you have no idea how to navigate the dangerous world of alliances and betrayals, war and peace. Once, you clumsily blundered through diplomacy, watching your father’s disappointment grow by the hour. You’ve since learned that complete silence is preferable to gaucheness. At least that is something your education as a princess has taught you.

But Gojo knew you before you grew into the woman you are now. He still remembers how to pull smiles and tears from you, how to push you to the brink of exasperation and coax you into brilliant happiness. He has a key to all the gates you’ve erected. No matter what you do, he always slips past your defenses.

If you keep letting him do as he pleases, you’ll be the only one who loses. Gojo is a man. If he’s rumored to be attached to the princess, it’ll elevate his reputation. He’s already the best swordsman in the entire kingdom. Being thought of as a profligate would only make them worship him more. People love a little hint of degeneracy to their heroes - not too much to make them immoral, but enough to make them attainable.

A princess is not a hero. You’re not someone to attain, you’re someone to obtain. When people look at you, they only see the crown. If you’re thought of as a ruined woman, it would prevent you from finding a husband. It would destabilize the entire kingdom.

It hurts to realize that you’re that selfish. Gojo would’ve chosen you over anything, but you’re letting something as empty as reputation displace him.

Not that it’s exactly a choice. Your life has been forfeit since you were born. You don’t belong to yourself, but to the royal house. As the only child of the king, you can’t allow yourself any mistakes, not when even the barest twitch of your fingers is scrutinized.

When Gojo offers to escort you back to your chambers at the end of the night, you swallow down the desire to agree. His eyes are hopeful, mirroring your own expression. It could be like back then, when you were children, running through the halls of the grand palace without a care in the world. Except you know you can never return to the halcyon days of your childhood, before your mother died, before his mother disappeared, before everything went wrong. You try not to let the disappointment on his face bother you when you allow the knight your father sent to bring you back to your rooms instead.

You attribute the strange feeling you get in the morning to the leftover melancholy of last night. Sunlight trickles across your face lazily, not enough to raise you from your bed but just bright enough to remind you that morning was here.

You’ve never slept long enough for the sun to warm your face while you were still entangled in your sheets before. The window faces your bed at such an awkward angle that the sun has to be high in the sky before it can light across your pillows.

Usually a maid wakes you by now if you aren’t up already. Where were they?

A gentle knock at the door only makes you more apprehensive. It can’t be Utahime. You know the sound of her steps. The pacing is stilted, awkward, as if whoever was behind the door was nervous.

“Hello?”

“Oh, princess!” Definitely nervous. Not a voice you can recognize. A new maid, perhaps? But why would they-

The door bursts open. You scream as a cloaked figure lunges at you. She throws herself on top of you, trying to pin you to the bed so she can run you through with the knife she has raised in her left hand.

She’s crying. “You weren’t supposed to be awake!”

Crying and angry. Fluffy white down bursts into the air, obscuring your vision as she stabs a pillow so brutally it vomits its contents. She’s not very good, which explains her terror. Unfortunately, you aren’t very good either, and you’re pinned underneath her. Thrashing doesn’t work - at the very least, she’s stronger than you, if badly trained.

When she finally immobilizes you, she has a growing bruise over her arm from a terrible punch you had thrown, trying to mimic the way Gojo does it. Keeping your thumb outside your fist was all you remembered, and it went wide. You barely managed to hit her, and it came with a cost. She snags your wrist and pins it down.

The knife plunges towards you. It’s rusty, which terrifies you almost as much as the implement itself. If by some miracle you survived, you’d be at risk of infection.

Blue eyes flash before you. In this moment, an inch away from death, you wish you had gotten to say goodbye to him. Fear robs you of rationality. You don’t know anything but that you want to see him one more time and feel the warmth of his embrace.

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m here.”

You crack an eye open. The girl is no longer visible. The only person leaning over you now has white hair and the characteristic Gojo eyes, impossible to fake. You decide you must’ve died already. This is heaven, where your wishes have been granted.

Gojo pulls you up. His hands are warm and solid. Vaguely, you realize that you’re trembling with the same nonchalant distance that you would use to catalog the color of the pillows.

“You’re not dead yet.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles. His thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “No, I could just tell by the look in your eyes.”

“The girl…”

“Dead.”

You scramble to the edge of your bed and peek over. Sure enough, she’s lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat has been cut so surely her head is nearly separated from her body.

You gag.

“Wait,” Gojo says. He kneels to tear off her cloak and holds it in front of you. “Here, princess.”

You don’t want to give in to your queasiness, especially not when he himself is so stoic, so you shake your head. More insistently, he pushes it towards you.

“It’s only natural,” he soothes. “I’m used to this. You’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“Just come here,” you say weakly. “No, actually. I’ll come to you.”

“Give me a second,” he says, dropping to his knees. Under the bed, he retrieves your silk slippers. He slips them onto your feet gently, standing when he’s finished with his task.

Obligingly, he waits as you gingerly step over the girl. When your slipper threatens to dip into the red stain spreading across your floor, he simply grabs you underneath the armpits and lifts you over it.

Even though it’s a horrific scene, you can’t look away. Her face is frozen in a still mask. Bile fills your stomach. Gojo gently turns your head in another direction with two fingers, the touch delicate. “Don’t look.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I told you not to restrain yourself,” he says disapprovingly.

“You’re not- you’re-“ You can’t figure out the right way to finish your sentence. “Does it really get that easy?”

His laugh is short and brutal. “Easy? I didn’t even think about it. All I know how to do is kill. I don’t mind it, for you.”

You shake your head. There’s nothing to say, with a body between you and blood pooling around both your shoes, but still, your heart aches. You had known him when he was a boy. It would always be hard to see him with calluses where once his hands had been chubby and soft.

He chucks you under the chin, the gesture fleetingly affectionate. “Don’t be so despondent, princess. I’m glad to do it. That’s what knights are for.”

Knights and maids, all meant to lay down their life or other lives for you at your convenience. Utahime was too loyal to have let an assassin into your chambers by choice. Your breath catches. It concerns him that you’re teetering into upset again, just when he’s calmed you down.

“Satoru, is Iori-“ The thought is too horrible. You can’t finish it.

“She’s not dead,” he says.

Noticeably, he doesn’t say that she’s alright.

Utahime will be scarred forever. They found her slumped at the bottom of the stairs, her body dumped unceremoniously after they stole her from outside your bedroom. A massive gash opened her right cheek up, crossing just slightly over her nose bridge.

You almost can’t bear to look at her. Not because her scar makes her hideous - far from it. Utahime will always be beautiful to you. The scar is only a reminder of how you’ve failed her.

You’re a princess without any power. All you can do is fuss over her after the fact, unable to change the past.

“Princess,” she hisses, jerking away from you for the third time in as many minutes. “You must stop! I’m your lady-in-waiting, not the other way around.”

“You got hurt for me,” you say, hands balled helplessly at your side. You refuse to touch her more aggressively, for fear of aggravating her wound. The bandages wrapped around her cheek are an ever present reminder of how much she’s sacrificed for you. So are the whispers. The looks. She holds her head high, acting as if it doesn’t bother her.

“I was glad to do it. I didn’t want to be shipped off to some far away baron anyway. Be grateful,” she cracks a smile you don’t feel. “I certainly am. At least I could still join the church, if anything.”

Why do the people around you insist on destroying themselves for your benefit?

“You don’t need a baron.” Loyally, you vow, “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Be careful, my lady. Some would take that as a marriage proposal, and then I’d have twice as many death threats.”

“I’d protect you.”

“You, princess? I doubt that,” Gojo calls.

You’ve been watching the knights move in and out of the arena from your vantage point on the royal balcony, but very few of them have dared to address you, much less speak to you so casually. They’re all too focused on the tourney you’re set to watch this afternoon. Only he would be so familiar with you and so unconcerned about the sparring, knowing his chances.

Utahime lets out an aggressive sigh with no regard as to whether or not Gojo could hear her. In fact, she’d probably prefer it if he had overheard. Gojo, for his part, ignores the chance to antagonize her for once in his life in order to focus on you.

“You know, my lady, I’ve heard an interesting rumor going around.”

You walk to the edge of the balcony and peer over the railing. Utahime gasps in fear and grabs onto your petticoats, afraid that you’ll tip over the fencing. “Go on, Sir Gojo,” you say.

“If a fair damsel grants a knight her favor, he’ll fight ten times as well. Twenty, even. And all the more so if it’s the princess, who everyone knows is the fairest in the land.”

Unwillingly, a smile twitches to life upon your lips. “Is that so?”

“Won’t you grant your most loyal knight a token of your affection?”

“Don’t,” Utahime gripes. “What has he done to deserve it?”

A scrap of pale blue fabric flutters in the light breeze, reminiscent of doves. Gojo catches the ribbon you’ve loosed from your hair, his fist enclosed in armor. He brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss he can’t place upon you. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching.

“I’ll win this whole thing,” he says. “I’ll defeat every knight here for you.”

The trumpets blow, calling the contestants. He’ll be wanted. Utahime shakes you lightly as he leaves your sight. “Get yourself together,” she says sternly.

“But mama, I love him!” You joke.

Her frown can’t last in the face of your teasing smile. She fixes the lace on your sleeve and collar, though they’re hardly ruffled. She can’t help herself. It’s her second nature to dote on you.

“Ah, my princess,” she sighs. “You worry me.”

You poke her uninjured cheek, trying to get her to smile. “It’s not me. You worry too much.”

Another voice cuts in. “I feel the same way sometimes, my dear Lady Utahime, but I trust no one more than you. Her mother left her to your capable hands, after all.”

Your father has arrived. Utahime smiles as the king kisses her cheek, but you can’t. You know he means it lightheartedly, but it galls you all the more that he says it so blithely. When your mother fell ill, Utahime had been the one who took charge of looking after you.

Not your father.

Not your only living parent, the man who was supposed to feel all the closer to you for your loss. Instead, he pushed you away.

You knew you weren’t being fair.

The king had been wracked with grief over the passing of his beloved wife. Along with his other royal duties, he couldn’t possibly have been expected to watch over an infant as well. You know better than anyone the toll the crown takes on a man. Stewardship of this land asks a heavy price. It’s not an easy role.

No, you can’t blame your father for choosing the country. It’s his duty, as it is yours.

You only wish it hadn’t been Utahime’s burden to carry instead. She was just a few years older, a child still when she had raised another child. In many ways, she had been a mother to you. Only now that you’ve grown older than she had been back then do you understand how much responsibility she had accepted at such a young age.

Your father turns to you. “Are you enjoying the tournament?”

“It’s barely started. Only the squires have been jousting. We haven’t seen any of the real knights yet.”

“Those squires will become knights themselves one day. Watch carefully, and you may discover a treasure worth keeping.”

As he speaks, you finally find someone worth watching, as if your father only had to say it to cause it to happen. A boy with rosy hair lunges towards his opponent. He disarms him and forces him to the ground - only to offer him his hand in exchange.

The other squire hesitates. Doubt crosses his face. Finally, he accepts the proffered hand like someone expecting an attack at any minute, but all the other boy does is pull him to his feet and dust him off. He’s more honorable than most of the knights of the realm you know, too focused on humiliating their opponents to flaunt their own glory.

Your father doesn’t notice your distraction. He’s still speaking. You bring yourself back to the conversation just in time to hear him say, “Sukuna, the King of the Curses.”

“Sorry?” You laugh.

“It’s no laughing matter, I’m afraid,” your father says gravely. “He’s the ruler of the Western Kingdom, the land where the sun never sets. Perhaps he’s grown tired of his arid land and seeks gentler climes, for his invasions have earned him the title ‘King of Curses’.”

Utahime’s lip curls in disgust. “King of Cruelty is more like it. I’ve heard of what he’s done to his prisoners. That man has no honor.”

“None,” your father agrees, “and yet it is necessary not to antagonize him. We are small if prosperous. We can’t afford it.”

Utahime looks as if she wants to speak, but she holds her tongue. She’s always been good at navigating the court. Trained under her, you wait as well. Taking your cues from her is something you’ve done since you were a child.

“Yes,” your father says, his eyes distant. He’s ruminating over something he won’t share. “He can’t be provoked. The representative he sent us for this tourney must be carefully attended to.”

That representative, Uraume, doesn’t fight like any knight you know. Their sword is wider than most of those found in your country, and half as tall as a man. Precision is lost in favor of brutality. They wreak havoc with the brutality of a butcher, tearing through the ranks of your best and strongest. Of course, he’s not the only strong fighter. There are other knights to watch as well.

“That Lady Tsukumo is doing quite well for a woman,” your father notes in surprise. “What prodigious talent. I don’t think her house has produced a fighter like that in years.”

“She’s better than half your knights,” you remind him. “Lady Tsukumo already defeated most of her bracket.”

“Yes, yes,” your father laughs. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m simply admiring her.”

As the day progresses, clear victors emerge in each division of the tournament. Uraume is one of them. Gojo is another.

They placed him against Getou for his penultimate match, knowing the crowd would go wild for a contest between not only two of the best knights of the realm, but sworn brothers. Although Getou is better than most, Gojo is more of a natural disaster than a real, human adversary. At the end of their round, Getou smiles even as Gojo brings him to his knees.

The next round is even more hotly anticipated than Getou and Gojo’s.

Gojo strides into the center of the arena with the classic arrogance he’s known for. He delights in riling the crowd up. They cheer louder and louder on each circuit he laps around the arena on his silver stallion, pale as moonlight. By the last, they’re nearly delirious with passion for him.

Uraume has no such pretenses. They’re a cold creature, as frigid as they come.

It matters not. Gojo beats them so easily that it can only be described as disrespectful. He rides past Uraume and thrusts the hilt of his sword into their stomach with such force they fall off their horse. Gojo dismounts casually. He hadn’t even used his blade. He flips Uraume onto their back with a boot and steps onto their breastplate, pinning them in place. His sword hovers underneath their chin, a whisper away from death. “Yield,” he says pleasantly.

You, remembering your fathers speech about Sukuna’s chosen representative from that morning, glance to the side. He’s smiling as gently as ever. Underneath his cloak, where only you and Utahime can see, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

After the match, you recognize one of the men rushing Uraume off to be one of your father’s most trusted advisors. He must be doing damage control, but then again, when is he not when Gojo’s around?

Your father stands, as composed as if he had never been upset in the first place. You envy that self-control. You’ve always aspired to your father. In your eyes, he was the perfect ruler - perhaps because he was the one who taught you what a ruler should be.

Gojo waits in the center of the arena. He’s beautiful as always, as fierce as an avenging angel. There’s a fine sweat beading at his temples in a way that makes you want to wipe it off with your handkerchief, but you abstain, knowing thousands are watching.

Gojo has no such scruples.

When it’s time for him to be awarded his laurel crown, he kneels - not to your father, but to you. A gasp rises from the crowd. You stifle your own shock. Here, where every sign of weakness is clearly visible and easily taken advantage of, you can’t reveal that this wasn’t planned. The royal family’s control over its retainers must appear immaculate - even if Gojo had always been uncontrollable.

Wordlessly, your father passes you the laurel. You know something is brewing. He can only tolerate Gojo’s outlandish behavior so many times. But this isn’t the place to worry about your father’s incumbent wrath, so you take over the duties of honoring the victor. It’s easy. You’ve seen your father do it enough times to be able to replicate it in your sleep.

Gojo rises from his knees, a hungry smile on his face. “I told you I’d win.”

“That you did,” you reply noncommittally, trying to figure out how you’re going to discreetly get him out of the arena without your father attempting to try him for treason.

He frowns. Knowing him and the type of maneuvers he’s likely to pull, you put a respectable amount of distance between the two of you as you mark his brow in gold paint.

When you grasp his hand to lift his arm into the air, he presses something into your palm. Years of sharing secrets and playing pretend at espionage have trained you not to flinch. When you lower your enjoined hands, you slip the shred of paper he’s passed you into your pocket.

People are cheering. You notice with warmth that he looks heroic, like he’s stepped right out of an old legend. Your father doesn’t seem to agree.

Arguments between the two of you used to be few and far between, but lately it seems like you can’t do anything right. You’d forgotten what it was like to retreat to your parents’ bedroom for a scolding. It hadn’t happened since you were a child, yet here you were again, studying the fabric of the draperies to avoid eye contact with your father, just like you had when you were younger.

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” you start. But that’s not true, and you know it. So you try again. “He wasn’t trying to cause problems. He cares about the kingdom, father. He was just trying to show off his - our - strength.”

“Gojo is a liability.” How easily your father casts him off, marks him as defective. He’s always been like that - clinical in his appraisal. You lacked that precise, indifferent ruthlessness. You’ve tried.

“He’s a good man, a good knight. House Gojo has always been loyal to us, father. Remember his mother? Remember Sorashi? She wouldn’t want you to treat her son like this.”

Your father flinches. First comes sorrow, then, anger. “Don’t speak to me about Sorashi.”

“You can’t just pretend like they never existed! Sorashi, my mother-“

“Child, you are testing my patience dangerously.”

You fall silent, hating yourself for it. Always a child. Never someone worth listening to.

“You don’t understand anything,” he says more gently.

“I don’t understand anything because you won’t tell me anything!”

“You’re a princess,” he snarls. “You’re not supposed to know anything!”

You reel back, stunned. You had always been afraid that this was how your father truly felt.

“You have no sons, so it’s me or no one else.” Disgust fills you at the fear in your own voice. Weak. Pathetic. After all these years, the lessons your father gave you still haven’t sunk in. Perhaps he’s right, and you’re not fit for the throne after all. You’re still begging for what you want instead of demanding it like it’s what you deserve. A prince wouldn’t act like this, but you’re not a prince - only a girl who was never taught how to rule.

He throws up his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t say anything about sons. See, you’re too young and inexperienced. This is why I won’t let you in yet. You’re not ready to rule.”

“But I will?”

He gives you a wan smile. He’s tired. Guilt seeps through you. These days, all you do is fight. You miss the times when it felt like you had worked together. At the end of all of it, you love your father. You hate that it’s been like this.

“All in time, my child. I love you, I really do. But you’re not ready.”

Mutiny curls under your tongue. You’re not ready because he waited too long, hoping for a male heir until your mother died. By then, it was too late for you to catch up on years of lessons you should’ve had. Regardless of what he says, you know how he feels. You were never the one he wanted but-

He’s still your father. When he reaches out to stroke your cheek, a peace offering, you close your eyes against his hand and don’t give voice to your treasonous thoughts. It’s nothing to suffer the humiliation of your status for a while longer. You have all the time in the world to earn your place.

Your father is right, in the end. You can be patient.

Back in the privacy of your room, you unfurl Gojo’s note. Gojo’s mother had him trained in elegant cursive that he uses for formal documents and letters. In his messages to you, it degenerates into chicken scratch. It’s a lucky coincidence that it’s all but unreadable to anyone else, making it a code only you can decipher.

The gardens at midnight. - S.

Only a place and a time. Is he trying to tempt fate?

You indulge in the idea of not going, especially since things are already tense with your father. All the way up until the hour you need to leave, you let yourself believe it’s not happening. It’s too risky. People are already suspicious of you as it is. The minute passes, and if you go now, you’ll be late, so you won’t.

You grab your shawl with a huff of annoyance. You’re going. You were always going to go, from the very moment you got the note.

You aren’t used to sneaking through hallways you usually glide through. There are several close calls as you make your way closer and closer to the gardens. Multiple times, you’re forced to make a run for the nearest door or drape to hide behind.

You’re barely two feet away when you’re finally caught. A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence.

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.”

You bite him.

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Why would you do that? You scared me!”

“You’re not careful enough, princess. Did you even notice the maid coming up the left hallway?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t. It’s lucky that he was there to save you.

Gojo has always been there to protect you. The tension bleeds from your body. You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it.

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?”

“If you don’t be quiet, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.”

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. His very presence is the promise of security. It makes it too easy to relax when he’s with you.

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he remains silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. “Satoru?”

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You raise it to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised to release the scent into the air.

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.”

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease.

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s too.”

You freeze.

“If not marriage, then knighthood. Let me be yours, in whatever way I can have you.”

“You have me,” you tell him. “You always have.”

You don’t know how to answer such devotion. Besides the obvious political ramifications of being wedded to Gojo when your marriage is meant to be a bargaining chip used for the sake of your kingdom, you don’t want it. Not like this.

Gojo has been your dedicated shield for so long, the two of you have forgotten a life where he wouldn’t give up everything to protect you. He’d do anything for you - even that which he should hold sacred for himself. His very body is littered with scars that he’s received on your behalf. How much more can you take from him?

Does Gojo really want to marry you or does he want to protect you? Will he play the part of the devoted servant for the rest of his life?

“You don’t have to…” You realize you don’t know how to say it. Or that you don’t want to. Selfishly, a part of you can’t bear to release him from the oath he gave you when you were children, though he couldn’t have known. Neither of you could have understood what it meant for him to kneel at your feet and swear his life to you. It had all been in good fun, the way children understand things. “I don’t want you to- Oh, Satoru. You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough for me.”

For a second, your imagination plays tricks on you. The cobalt of his eyes kindles into a terrifying flame, like the lightning in the town he hails from. It’s as if the draconic blood his ancestors claimed still lives within him.

He continues as if he hadn’t heard you. “I’m going to ask your father tomorrow. I want to be your dedicated knight; I won’t wait any longer. I’ve waited enough.”

His pushiness feeds your annoyance. You cling to it, preferring it to the dreadful hopelessness inside of you. The right thing is not always the easy thing. Gojo deserves his freedom after wasting his youth on keeping you safe, yet letting him go feels as difficult as willingly driving a nail through your hand. You want to cling to him forever, reassured by his strength.

“Don’t,” you say, trying to sound firm.

“At the ceremony,” he says determinedly. “When he gives me captainship in the army. He’ll have to say yes if I ask him then.”

“Satoru, please-” Your voice wobbles embarrassingly, and you have to pause. Silently, you beg your tears not to fall. The way he disarms you is humiliating. You turn away, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you has taught him a lot. He bandaged the scrapes that you refused to cry over and avenged your honor after you pretended your pride hadn't been hurt. He can see right through you. “Please don’t.”

You see the frustration on his face. He’s not a man used to holding himself back, and yet he does.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.”

It’s just another number to add to the tally of favors you owe him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-”

“I know. Though I do think the king will ask me anyway, so this is all pointless.” He looks away. “I just wanted you to- Nevermind.”

“Really?” Doubt colors your voice.

“I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?”

“He doesn’t like you,” you point out. “No, he does, but it’s a very begrudging like. I don’t get it.”

It makes you smile, thinking about the way your father can’t stand Gojo but won’t allow anyone else to speak poorly of him. He’s still a Gojo after all, no matter how much trouble he causes your father, and your father loves Gojos. The royal house has always held their house dear. They had been close for decades. Always, they were something to the other, no matter what form that something took.

“There you are,” Gojo murmurs. His fingers trace the arc of your mouth. “So pretty.”

You glare at him through tears. “And whose fault is it that I cried?”

“Your father’s?”

You scoff. “You see? This is why he doesn’t like you.”

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him for it if I have to.”

“Don’t do that,” you gasp.

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor.”

You look at the crushed violet in your hand.

Who else but Gojo?

He breaks you down so easily. You press the flower back into his palm. “I know you’ll do what’s right.”

His eyes soften. He leans closer.

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?”

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever.

You nod, fearing your voice will give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. Does it look like a real kiss from afar? Did he mean it to?

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.”

“A new plaything?” Asks Yaga. “I’m not so scary, am I?”

Gojo notices you tremble harder as the voice registers. Lord Commander Yaga is close to the King. As the captain of the kingsguard, he could ruin everything.

Gojo lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face. He pulls you towards him, arranging your legs around his waist. A soothing hand traces a warm path up and down your back. It calms you as much as it shames you. You’ve never been this close to any man, not even him, and now you’re cuddling only for the sake of protecting your secrets.

“The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard,” he says casually, as if the two of you aren’t trapped in an extremely compromising position. As if your father wouldn’t demand his head on a pike if Yaga realized who it was.

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?”

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully.

That night, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yaga gave no sign he recognized you. He acted as if he normally would upon encountering any soldier of his on a late night escapade, profoundly disinterested and deeply desirous to get away. Only in the morning do you begin to doubt your deception.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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mrshesh · 9 months

Note

hi! do you have any general hcs for the cod:ghosts boys?

general headcanons - call of duty: ghost's

overview: general headcanons of the call of duty: ghost's boys!

pairing: none!

genre: fluff, pure tomfoolery

a/n: hi anon! i'm thrilled i finally got a request for these boys. i love them so much, it's getting a bit unhealthy. you're truly the best for requesting them! i hope you love it!

x logan walker

He sucks at puzzles. He’s smart and tactical, but puzzles are on another level of difficulty for him.

He likes doodling a lot. If he has a pen and a surface to draw on, he will sketch a small smiley or a caterpillar. It has become such a habit that he doesn’t even think about it when he does it. It got so bad that once, Keegan called him out on it mid-doodle, leaving Logan embarrassed for a week.

He loves the ocean, but beaches annoy him. He hates sand. (I firmly believe his hate for them is from Hesh throwing sand in his face as children.)

He has a picture of him and Hesh as kids in his wallet. He feels calmer when he looks at it, getting into the habit of peeking at it when stressed.

He’s an avid Deftones enjoyer. He loves Beware and Diamond Eyes.

He likes caramel-scented things, but he doesn’t like the taste of it.

He has some insane dirt on Elias, and, of course, Hesh knows all of it.

For some odd reason, he’s phenomenal at parallel parking.

x david "hesh" walker

He loves movies. He can watch any genre! Horror? Great! Action? Love. Romance? Cute! Comedy? Perfect! He loves it all. Shows, however? Nope.

He takes pride in his nails being clipped and filed at all times. He was a nailbiter in his teens, so he cares about his nails more than he should today.

He can’t cook to save his life.

Eminem is his go-to artist. He loves and respects many artists, but Eminem will always be at the top of his list. He loves Stan.

He’s respectful in general.

He’s extremely secure and confident, yet he’s still pretty nervous when he talks to girls.

He loves long car rides. Driving around in his car while listening to his favorite songs brings out a unique joy in him.

He, unlike Logan, loves beaches! (He wasn’t the one who got sand thrown on him, so he’s thriving.)

He hates coriander.

x elias "scarecrow" walker

Unlike his son, Elias is great at puzzles! He’s disappointed Logan didn’t inherit that quality. He mourns it every day.

He loves pickles. (Same.)

He manipulated himself into liking beer many years ago.

People call him DILF all the time. It has happened too many times to count. He finds it funny, while Hesh and Logan are horrified every time.

He doesn’t know how to put on chapstick. He puts it between his lips and swipes it back and forth, not on his lips.

He got so much action when he was a teenager/young adult. He tells Logan and Hesh to “live a little” so they can experience that life, too.

He doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does, he listens to either Korn or Chris Isaak.

He adores Riley, sometimes stealing him from Hesh without warning.

x keegan russ

He secretly enjoys ASMR. It helps him unwind and de-stress, but not sleep, surprisingly.

He’s excellent at the game Mafia.

He has made way too many people giggle excitedly because of his voice. He finds it amusing but disturbing at the same time. He knows it’s attractive, but that many people? He has even made Elias giggle like a schoolgirl because of his vocal folds.

Keegan strikes me as a Slipknot fan. He finds Killpop and Vermillion to be sexy.

He loves grocery shopping.

He talks to himself a lot. He’s antisocial and quiet around others, but when Keegan’s alone, he keeps having full-on conversations with himself. Merrick caught him doing it once - he never brought it up again.

He enjoys lasagna a bit too much.

He had a motorcycle phase as a young adult. It got so bad he learned how to do a wheelie on them, but his love for them has died down in the many years he’s been alive.

He thinks wine is gross.

x thomas merrick

He cannot stand bananas. Everything about them makes him gag.

He gets such a rise out of being a bitch. He’s already annoying by default but strives to be even more insufferable for the fuck of it.

He, Alex, and Keegan smoke while being sentimental together at least once a month. (It’s always with Keegan and Alex - Elias, David, and Logan get left out.)

He listens to underground metal like Sold Soul, and he thinks it makes him superior to everyone else. (And he gatekeeps it.)

He’s immune to pretty much all physical pain except for waxing. It’s enough to make him cry.

He loved trains as a child.

His comfort song is Toxicity by System Of A Down.

His appetite is insane. This man can eat a horse and still be hungry by the end of it.

His calves are huge for some reason.

809 notes · View notes

ktficworld · 3 days

Text

Behind The Red Curtains

Pairing: soft dark! Steve Rogers x actress! reader

Summary: You come to know that your success might not be solely because of your talent.

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, forced relationship, bondage, size kink, degradation + praise kink, choking, oral(f receiving ), unprotected sex( it's fiction, your life's not), dirty talk, explicit language, explicit sexual content.

(Let me know if I forgot something)

Prompt: Oral sex, overstimulation, praise, Mob au, Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

A/N: So, this is my entry for the cum together extravaganza hosted by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18

I wanted to write this for a long time after the provocation by @biteofcherry 👀. I hope you all enjoy and this is my first time writing smut so, be gentle.

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Main masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

“Johnny Storm was seen with the new sensation in the modelling industry yesterday night. Rumor has it-”

You pressed the switch-off button with more force than needed as the squeaky voice of the anchor finally died down. Throwing the remote across the bed, you groaned in agitation.

You were dating Johnny Storm. Everything was going well, the meeting was story worthy, he was handsome, charming and had some good qualities you were looking for. This was the first relationship you got into since entering the film industry. Because you may be a hopeless romantic, but you were also choosy.

You didn’t know what happened in the process that just torpedoed your budding relationship. One day you were walking out of a cafe hand-in-hand and the next day, he was fucking some modelling sensation. Maybe you got lost in translation.

Or maybe he was just a fucking asshole. No matter what happened it showed you his true colors. That or instead of coming to you to talk out his issues, he went around, fucking and ghosted you.

Oh, but that was not the problem. The real problem was that you were shooting a movie with him. A romantic movie, with sex scenes. And you have no idea how you would be able to show any affection or chemistry on the screen without being awkward as fuck. This would be the best test of your acting skills for sure.

“Why do you look like you regret being born?” your friend and manager, Wanda asked as she entered your room.

You glanced at her and rolled your eyes. She was trying to lighten your melancholic mood but, it was of no use. “You know damn well why.”

She sighed. ��I know, but you’re a great actress. You could easily pull off a serial killer then a rom-com is nothing for you. Don’t get worked up about it. Just imagine your celebrity crush instead.”

You laughed at that. You worked with people whom the masses considered celebrity and if you had a crush, you’d simply ask them out. So, you’re stuck in that department.

“I appreciate your support and I’ll get over this. Just give me some time. Is that why you came here?”

Wanda shook her head with a smile. “No, actually the PR guy told me to tell you to go to partage restaurant. Someone wants to meet you.”

You frowned. “You know if I started giving time to ‘someones’ then I won’t even be able to breathe. I need the specifics.”

“He didn’t tell me. Said the person didn’t want to be known till you meet them. But he said you need to go or they’ll be pissed and it could pose a problem to your career.”

Some rich asshole again. You pinched your nose in frustration. People really glamorised a celeb’s life but if they knew that you all have to play rich people’s puppets, they wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about it.

“Fine, I’ll go. What time and day?”

“8 p.m Sunday.”

“Great. Now get lost, I need my beauty sleep.”

Your heels clicked on the floor as you stepped inside the restaurant to utter silence.

The usually bustling restaurant was deserted. There was no violin swimming in the air, mingling with the chatter of the expensive people, the polished tables had no spilled drinks and the fine plates had no leftovers. The lobby had no sight of a reception and all the staff had evaporated out of existence. You were half doubting yourself that maybe you arrived at the wrong time or date. Maybe the restaurant was closed.

But all of them vanished when a prim and proper lady approached you. You had never seen her before but you didn’t care to ask if she was new.

“Good evening, ma’am, you may go to the VIP area upstairs. Sir is waiting for you there.” She said in a professional voice.

“Yeah, sure. But can I ask why the restaurant is empty?”

“He booked the entire restaurant.” She said like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was not like this place costed more than the top-paying actors in the Hollywood.

You thanked the woman with a polite smile you went upstairs to get to the VIP section.

The he made you shudder from inside. Another sleazy old man who thought that you would open your legs for him just because he was rich was awaiting you and judging by the stunt he pulled. You’d have to be more tactful.

Reaching the shiny golden doors with a lion emblem, separating the demi-gods from the gods, you knocked on the door of the VIP room.

“Come in.” A thick and deep voice called out, making you frown. How come an old man has such a great voice?

Oh, but how wrong you were. Because, as soon as you opened the door, in front of you, sat a man who was far from aged. He was pure muscles. His rings sparkled in the chandelier lights. Draped in the finest black suit with his blonde hair combed back, sat none other than Steve Rogers, the mafia lord of New York. The one who you have been trying to avoid your entire career. Who posed as a successful businessman but everyone was aware of how he earned his dollars. Just, they were too afraid to acknowledge it.

You couldn’t move an inch, frozen from fear and surprise. You had only met him once, during the premiere of your debut film and people had acted like he wasn’t someone who could wipe them off from the face of the earth without even blinking an eye. That night, his eyes were glued to you like Hades's gaze on Persephone. So intense and consuming that you never wanted to see him again.

And now, here you were.

“Sit down, darling.” He husked out, the sound of alcohol filling his glass reverberating through the walls.

Breaking out of your trance with a gulp. You pulled out the chair and sat down across from him while your heart was in your throat. “Good evening, Mr. Rogers. What brings me the pleasure of your company.’ You managed to get out without your voice cracking.

He smirked and leaned back on his chair. “It’s your beauty, your talent and your creativity that brings you here, sweetheart. I’m a big fan of art and beautiful things, you are both of them.”

“Thank you…” You drawl out, expecting him to continue.

“I liked you the moment I saw you. In your pink dress, you looked so innocent, so shy. Overwhelmed by the media attention. I knew you would do something big so I gave you the freedom to shine and shine you did. However, it looks like your freedom has got to your head.” The last sentence was said with a lower voice and an ominous smile.

Your hands became sweaty as they clamped down on the armrest. “I’m not getting what you are trying to say.” You whispered out.

His chuckle only made your heartbeat faster as he leaned forward and his gaze bore into your soul. “Let me rephrase, I claimed you the moment I saw you. But I knew you had potential so I let you go but your little dance with Johnny Storm made me realise it was time you became mine.”

“What-what did you do?” You choked out but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.

You yelped as he yanked your chair closer towards him till your knees were touching. Your chest moved rapidly as he leaned closer, his hands covering yours on the armrest.

“Awww, don’t play stupid, honey. Johnny, he’s a himbo and you are mine,” He said as his left hand moved to caress your cheek as you flinched away from his touch. “So, I pulled some strings, fed some mouths with dollars and your cute little on-set romance came to an end.” Your eyes widened in horror as he was the one that ended your relationship with Johnny.

He gripped your face in his big hand and turned your head so that his eyes burned through yours. “Trust me, honey, I was generous with him. I could have him disappear and no one would have given a shit.”

“No.” You whispered, wrenching his hands away. You suddenly stood up from your chair, effectively surprising him.

“No?”

“That is not happening. I don’t want to be with you, I’m sorry.” You stumbled back to the door but before you could touch the doorknob, you were whirled around and pushed against it.

“When did I tell you, you could say no?” Steve growled his hand wrapping around your throat. “If you think you can reject me then you are sorely mistaken, darling. Don’t forget that the production house you work with the most is mine.”

You gasped. How could it be his? It was of Tony Stark, you scorched the earth and back and found no such connection.

Steve noticed your reaction and tsked.“You didn’t know? Don’t worry, you are not stupid sweetheart. The public doesn’t know that Stark is nothing but my pawn.” His other hand snaked around to squeeze your ass through your jeans and you screwed your eyes shut as his touch sent tingles through your body and your breaths became shorter.

He tugged you closer to him with your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. “Now, do you still want to be stubborn?”

Now, you were no dumbo. If Steve can jeopardize your relations with his production then he can also ruin your entire career. Mob involvement in the film industry is an unsaid rule. However, you didn’t know their claws were so deep and sharp.

“And what if I leave? Leave this industry?” What could be more precious than your pride?

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Then you’ll just be the wife of Steve Rogers who was an actress. Remember princess, I’ll never leave you alone. If I held onto you for three years what makes you think I’ll not find you and drag you to my hell?”

Tears threatened your waterline as you murmured. “You are really forcing me?” What a stupid question to be asking a mobster.

He let out a throaty chuckle and moved his hand from your neck to his pant pocket however he was still invading your private space as his lips were inches away from your lips. “I’m giving you options: either come willingly or I’ll force you. Your choice, darling.”

He fished out a silver card from his pocket, tracing the sharp and cold edges of it on your face, meandering down your neck and stopping only when it reached the valley of your breast. You gasped harshly when he slid the card inside your bra, the chilled hard paper resting against your warm skin.

“My number, call me when you make a decision. You have one week.” He whispered against your lips before sealing the unspoken vow with a kiss.

With that he slipped away from your body and took his seat again like dark clouds gilding away from the moon before shortly, engulfing it once again. He resumed sipping from his glass like nothing serious happened and said nonchalantly. “You can go now.”

You ran to your car like you were burned. Which you were, your soul was burning. Burning from the choices you were given. Which was essentially choosing which cage you preferred better, golden or grey.

“Did you like the dinner?” Steve asked in his deep voice as he sat across from you at the dining table.

Blinking your eyes away from the full moon that shone outside the dining room window, you glanced at Steve and nodded. “Yes, I liked it.”

You did come to him willingly in the end, after all, what choice did you have? The moment you admitted your defeat and called Steve flashed in front of your eyes. His smug and triumphant words ringing in your ears.

“Nice choice, princess.”

“You seem to like the moon a lot,” Steve observed as his piercing gaze never left you, noting your every move and reaction.

You looked down at your hands, clasped in front of you. His presence still sent chills of fear down your spine. His imposing figure and intense gaze made your heart race. Not to mention the way his eyes sparkled with desire and lust whenever they laid upon you.

“Yes, the night is beautiful.” You replied softly.

“Do you want to go upstairs? In the balcony for a better view? I also have a very pretty garden.” Steve offered and you refrained from frowning.

From the moment you accepted his advances, Steve has been acting like the perfect lover. Sending flowers, expensive gifts, wanting to have nice and deep conversations and supporting you in your work. But still, you couldn’t decipher if he was actually being nice or plain manipulative.

However, you had grown tired, sitting and chatting in the room, the walls suffocating you. “I would like that.”

Steve grinned and stood up from his chair, taking a few long strides he reached you and offered you his hand. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, slipping your hand in his, you got up. You sucked a sharp breath when his hand tightened around your smaller one and his eyes grew darker. You ignored the building tension as he led you upstairs, to the balcony.

His mansion was spectacular, painted beige with marble murals. It resembled old French castles with intricate paintings from Greek mythology on walls to railing carved with various plant and flower motifs.

When he said he enjoyed beauty, he wasn’t bluffing.

Stepping on the top floor, there was a lounge area with a fireplace on the right and a couch on the left. In front was the glass door leading to the balcony. Steve opened the door and you had to hold back your gasp as the view was absolutely breathtaking.

It had the same marble railing as before and also had a sitting space for two people with two chairs and one glass table, perfect for a cosy morning or evening. The balcony ran along the entire top floor, connected with all the rooms.

However, the main highlight was the enormous garden that stood before your eyes. Tall trees were perched vertically of all types, some bearing fruits, some flowers and some none. Speaking of flowers, bright, colourful flowers adorned the garden like jewels. Rose, jasmine, sunflower, etc scattered all over with moonlight pouring on them.

It was straight out of a princess movie and you could spend your entire life wandering inside it, reading books under the tree shade.

“It’s gorgeous.” You whispered to Steve as you stepped forward, leaning on the railing.

“I know, my mother made it. She wanted me to keep the garden big and flourishing. So, I put everything I could to keep it perfect.” Steve revealed and moved behind you, his body pressing against yours.

You were so engrossed in gazing at the garden that you missed his hand coming to cover yours and he laid a soft kiss on your cheek.

“What are you doing?” You questioned as you tried to step away from his grip but he had you trapped.

“Enjoying my view,” He said as he gripped your hips and pressed them against him, his semi-hard cock pressing against your ass. “See what you do to me?”

His lips trailed down, kissing and sucking on your neck. His left hand travelled from your hips to your breast, he squeezed the underside of your tities while grinding his erection against your bottom. Your breathing was getting heavy as he continued to massage your boobs and sucked on your neck, collarbone and shoulder.

You had to refrain from biting your lips. His strong body and demanding moves were making you unwillingly wet. But he forced you into a relationship you didn’t want, you didn’t want this, right?

“I don’t want to do it.” You whispered despite wanting nothing but his hands under your scarlet dress.

“No?” He chuckled. “Let’s check, shall we?” He whispered seductively in your ear.

Your eyes widened as you thrashed in his grip but he stopped all your attempts to deny the truth with a hand around your neck and a squeeze that made you go still. His other hand glided under your dress and found your panties damp.

“Your pussy proved you wrong, princess.” He said with a smug laugh. He sucked at your pulse point as his fingers moved your lace panties aside and caressed your folds. The suddenness made you let out a choked moan as your hold tightened on the railing.

His words embarrassed you but you couldn’t deny that his touch was making your body betray you. He played your body like an instrument.

His fingers ran along your petals, spreading your arousal and brushing your clit, his index finger teasing your entrance when he abruptly stopped.

You blinked, gasping and panting. You were about to glance at him in confusion when he bent you over, your head resting against the marble railing as he went down on his knees, bunching up your dress around your waist. He ripped off your panties, the sound heating your cheeks with humiliation.

“You deserve to be punished.” He said through gritted teeth as he slapped your clit, making you jerk at the delicious sting as he spread your legs wider for him so your pussy was on full display. Wet and ready.

“Spank your ass till it’s burning for going out with that pathetic excuse of a man Johnny or have Bucky watch you as I fuck you senseless. He’s also a fan after all." He spread your labia and sucked on your clit, making you moan out loud as your stomach flipped.

“But I can’t, because this pussy is too tempting of a distraction.” He lamented as his lips went down to your pussy and his tongue teased your cunt with slow yet precise strokes.

Your left hand moved to his hair and tugged on the blonde locks as his administration made your clit pulsate with need. You couldn’t decipher whether you wanted him to stop or continue.

He tutted on you pulling his hair. You whimpered at the loss of his mouth on your pussy when the clicking of his belt echoed in the empty space. He yanked both your hands behind your back and secured them in place with his belt, the grip firm but not harsh.

“No.Touching.” He growled in your ear as his words were accentuated by a slap on each of your buttcheeks, making you whimper in pain and pleasure as you let your forehead rest against the cool marble and he knelt again.

He took your clit in his mouth again but with more ferocity as your pussy clenched around nothing, “Oh my god, Steve yes!” You mewled.

“Captain or I won’t let you cum.” He commanded as his fingers joined in and drew slow and teasing circles around your cunt.

“Captain, please.” You pleaded as your orgasm started to build up in your stomach.

“Good girl, that’s my good girl.” He finally eased his index finger inside of you, his thick and long finger filling your pussy and you were afraid as to how you were going to take his cock as his finger alone stretched your vagina.

He pumped his finger in and out of you all the while kissing and sucking your clit. When you bucked into his finger he added another one, exploring your velvety walls to find your spot that would make you sing. He curled his fingers when you dripped around his fingers and mouth.

“Mhmm, captain. Feels so good.” You cried out as your climax was approaching you faster, your skin glistening with sweat under the pale moonlight. It was so embarrassing, being this crying and moaning mess he had turned you into. His hands kneading your thighs and ass.

“Are you going to cum, princess?” Steve asked in a husky voice as he kept up his pace, replacing his mouth with his thumb to grow circles around the bundle of nerves,

Your skin was on ablaze, the coil tightening in your belly as you were tethering on the of falling apart. “Yes, Captain. Please let me cum.” You requested, spellbound. He didn’t need to ask you to beg, you were already sliding into your subspace. His finger found your g spot as he twisted his fingers, making you whimper as your breath shuddered.

He snickered, sending vibrations through your body. “I didn’t know you were so obedient, good to know.”His hand came down on your clit and it was the final straw that threw you over the edge.

You came with a loud moan as the blinding pleasure brought tears to your eyes and you gushed around his lips and fingers, coating his chin. He lapped all your juice, his pace not halting as he drank your nectar greedily.

Your body was quivering from the force of your orgasm, your heart racing as you tried to collect yourself.

Steve got up on his feet and you almost collapsed when he wrapped a sturdy hand around your shaking body, pressing you against his chest. He jutted your chin up and grinned down at you. “Aw, you already look so fucked out darling but it’s just the beginning, we have the whole night.” He smashed his lips with yours, swallowing your tired whimpers and moans.

After devouring your mouth and leaving you breathless. He picked you up and started walking to his left. You were too dizzy to notice your surroundings till you were hitting silk bed sheet and plush mattress. You glanced at Steve through your hazy vision as he stood at the end of the bed.

He smirked down at you. “How about you return the favour, sweetheart? Strip.” He ordered and it was enough to clear your mind of any hangover.

Your hand snaked to your back and you slid down the zipper and pulled off your dress, your breast clad in red lace coming into view as you completely removed the dress and discarded it on the floor.

You then unclasped your bra, trepidation and anticipation mingling together as your boobs spilled out. Now, you were completely naked, your panties already torn and tossed away.

“On your hands and knees.” He commanded as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, his abs and chest made your mouth water and you wanted to grab and touch him but shook away the thoughts.

You got on your hands and knees, clothes rustling till the bed dipped behind you. Steve ran his hand up your spine, sneaking underneath to grop your breast. You mewled as his thumb tweaked your pebbled nipples, twisting and flickering the buds till you were writhing under him.

His other hand smacked your ass, causing you to whimper. “Spread your legs more, I want to see that pussy.”

You spread your legs some more, displaying your glistening cunt to Steve’s hungry gaze. “You have such a pretty pussy.” He said as he played with you enough that you were whining before he rubbed the tip of his cock over your cunt, spreading your arousal and his pre cum.

You shuddered, you had an inclining that he was big but how much? That you didn’t know since you couldn’t see his dick from your position.

He slapped the head of his cock on your pussy and you visibly shuddered. He did it a few more times before you were dripping for him and was on the verge of sobbing in frustration.

“Such a shame that it is about to get ruined by my big cock.” He declared and pushed the tip inside you. You moaned as you awaited your eventual mounting.

You clutched the silky sheets as he slowly bottomed out, your walls spasmed as they tried to accommodate his length. You were so full already and he was gracious enough to give you time to adjust. All the while he explored your body, kissing your spine, kneading and spanking your thighs, ass and breasts. His touch was electrifying and in no time, you were whimpering for him to move.

“Ah, someone is getting impatient.” Steve mocked but began moving out of your hot channel. He was slow and deliberate, his girth dragged through your walls and your pussy fluttered.

He hissed. “Don’t do that darling if you want to walk the next day.” He pulled out all the way, only the tip remained inside. Pushing your head further into the pillow as he slammed inside your cunt in one stroke, taking your breath away.

“Look at your pussy, pulling me in and clenching around me,” He grunted as his hold on your hips tightened. He looked where you two were connected and sighed in awe. “I didn’t know you were such a slut, you look so innocent. But look at you now, dripping around a man’s dick you barely know,” He pulled out again and thrusted back in with the same power. The slow yet rough pace he set made you cry out in pleasure as your climax started to stir in your lower belly again. “But I like how cockdrunk you are that you just don’t give a shit anymore.” He groaned and pulled out.

He changed his angle slightly and when he thrusted back again, he hit your g-spot and you screamed, flames of pleasure intensifying. He tugged you by the hair, pressing you against his toned chest. “Tell me that you are my slut.” He growled in my ear.

“I’m your slut, Captain!” you said breathlessly as his deep thrusts made you gasp.

His hand came to your clit and his thumb started drawing circles, making you tremble in his grip. “Yes, you are my slut. My fuck toy, who would let me do whatever I want and whenever I want with her because I own you now. Repeat what I have said.” He thrusted harder and if it wasn't for his strong grip, you would have fallen down.

“I'm your fuck toy. You can do whatever you want and whenever you want with me because you own me now.” You cried.

“Such a good obedient girl- Ahh, taking my cock so well. Now, you are going to ask me to make you cum.” He groaned his thumb sped up. Leaning down, he sucked on your pulse point, surely leaving a hickey, marking you as his.

“Please Captain, let me cum! Let me cum around your big cock.” You squealed out. Tilting your face upwards he kissed, hard and rough, you moaned against his lips as you tasted yourself on him.

“Good girl, now cum for me.” He demanded as fingers and thumb pinched your clit, his cock hitting your sweet spot in quick succession.

You shrieked ‘captain’ as you came around his girth, squirting on his dick. “Good, what a good little slut for your captain.” He moaned in satisfaction as he nibbled at your earlobe, fucking you through your release.

He let go of you when your shaking died down. Your face fell on the pillow as you tried to catch your breath. Your fucked out mind didn’t register that he didn’t come till you were being flipped on your back. Coming face-to-face with his annoyingly handsome face.

“You didn’t think it was over, did you?” He rasped with a smirk as he plunged into your cunt once again, but this time with more fervour.

You instantly mewled but the overstimulation and coming two times had worn you out, you weren’t used to this. You attempted to scoot away from Steve. “I-I can’t, too much.”

He pulled you back down on his cock, wrapping your legs around his waist. He restrained your hands over his head with one hand, leaving you unable to escape the pleasure he was giving you. “You can and you will. Get used to it, sweetheart. I’m being gentle right now,” He growled as he moved on top of you.

The pace was rough and fast, the bed rattling with each thrust, your boobs jiggled from the speed. He placed his hand on your lower stomach. “Do you feel me here?” He asked, the belly bulge sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, I do, Captain.” You managed to choke out as he pounded in your pussy mercilessly.

“Then enjoy it, honey. Enjoy, writhing and moaning underneath me. My cock stretching your tight cunt, because that’s where you belong. Taking my cock like a good little fuck doll.” He husked as the force of his thrust increased with each passing second. The pain and pleasure mixing made tears fall from your eyes, the knot tightening yet again.

Steve leaned over you, kissing your tears, trailing down to your neck and then your boobs, groping and licking the plump area before taking your pebbled nipples into his hot mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arched, pleasure zapping through your body like thunder as his hot tongue sucked on your nipples and his hand massaged your other breast. All the while his thick cock rammed into you, his pubic areas brushing your clit.

Your hands jolted to touch him but he had your hands pinned above. You shut your eyes and enjoyed the unyielding pleasure he was bestowing upon you as pressure built up for the third time in your stomach. Your moans and his grunts bounced off the wall, so did the clapping sound of skin slapping against the skin.

Suddenly, his grasp loosened before coolness touched your ring finger. You looked up as he slid a beautiful sapphire ring into your finger, sealing your fate with his forever. You managed out a surprised gasp. He brought your hand down and pinned it to your side, giving you a proper view of the ring as it sparkled under the stark glowing moon.

“Imagine me, sweetheart,” Your breath caught in your throat as his speed grew frantic, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt as he chased his own release. “Imagine me when you have to romance on screen with some pitiful A-list actor.” He whispered in your ear, intertwining your hands with his as he kissed your lips. It was softer than the previous ones but no less demanding.

“Imagine me when you have to pretend to fuck someone on set. Because I know,” He whispered against your lips before lowering his hand to your clit and he drew fast circles on the bundle of nerves to help you fall apart.

Steve cursed under his breath and thrusted faster when your walls clenched his dick. “Because I know that I have ruined you for any other man. Ruined this pussy for anyone except me. So, imagine me when you kiss a man and realize that he’ll never make you feel this good.” You nodded along his words as tears streamed down your cheeks, smearing your eyeliner and mascara but he paid no heed to it. Rather, enjoying your fucked out state.

The fullness of his dick inside your pussy and the overwhelming stimulation finally tipped you over the edge as you came the hardest and it hit you like a tsunami.

After some more brutal thrust, he came inside of you with a loud groan. His hot cum spilling inside your abused cunt as it milked him dry. He pumped into you a few more times, giving you every last drop of his seed and staying inside your warm channels till his cock softened.

He put his forehead against yours as he finally pulled out and you almost whined at the loss of dick but restrained yourself as his cum leaked out of your hole.

Only heavy breaths echoed in the spacious room as both of you caught your breath. You were beyond regaining your previous strength as you couldn’t even move a muscle. However, Steve recovered shortly afterwards as he kissed your forehead and whispered smugly. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”

You didn’t answer because he was right, you enjoyed every bit of it even if you didn’t want to. Before you could drown yourself in self-pity. Steve picked you up and took you to his bathroom to soak you in a nice, warm bath…

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #mob steve #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x reader au #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #mob steve rogers #CT 2024 raffle entry

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infernalodie · 11 months

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hii, can you make a sam carpenter x fem!reader, where after they all go to college (the group; tara, chad, mindy and reader) sam starts to notice her feelings for tara’s best friend (reader, obviously) maybe with smut and bottom!reader pls? i love your writing btw

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 (𝐏𝐭.𝟏) || 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

"𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘍𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯' 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺"

Inspo: DaniLeigh - Easy

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Her desire for you was primal and naked...

Warning: Fluff, possessive Sam, smut, praise kink, oral (R receiving), fingering, squirting, corruption kink, sub!reader, dom!Sam Carpenter, and a splash of more fluff.

Part Two

Words: 2881

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

Samantha didn’t know what to think when she first realize the feelings she had for you. Truthfully, it wasn’t something big as it may be shown in movies or TV. It was subtle. Slipping into her bloodstream and quickening her heart rate whenever your presence was in her vicinity. As if her body knew exactly what she wanted.

It was something small that sparked it.

She only met you after the whole incident with Amber and Richie. When the news came out about Tara being harmed in the spree, you showed up at the hospital unannounced. Pouncing onto the injured girl and promising her that you would protect her at all costs. But that had been the first time Samantha met you.

The first time she talked to you officially besides 4 word sentences was at the airport when you decided to drop everything and join the group in moving to New York. Everyone was passed out waiting for time to pass that would be the announcement for everyone to board the flight. You were seated next to her, listening to music with a gentle hum surfacing from your throat.

And the melody was recognizable to Sam, so she gently nudged you. Making you pull your headset off with a quiet hum, big eyes looking up at her curiously. And her guess on the song was correct; internet crush by Jeremy Zucker. That devolved from music to the purpose it held for the two of you to then personal life. How you left your mother behind who did nothing but drank herself to sleep every night. Hoping a bottle would fill the hole that had been left since your sister died. You both resonated with the shared issues revolving around your guys’ parents. Missing fathers and alcoholic mothers.

From that point on, the remote reaction when you appeared before Sam came from a bubbling euphoric aroma that clouded her thoughts. Abiding by every request and treating you like a queen. Thoughts around you become obscured by her admiration for you. Able to pinpoint the specific things about you that she adored and tell anyone why she loved them so much. Your hands. They were so small and delicate in hers. How you held her hand when you wanted to show her something interesting. Or there were your eyes. Full of innocence compared to Sam’s or Tara’s. How they would twinkle (or it might be Sam’s imagination) whenever you asked a question or looked up at her. Then there was your height which was significantly shorter compared to hers. Coming about 2 inches shorter or so than Tara. But Sam loved the idea of towering over you or even being able to hoist you onto the surface. Feel your small hands hold her face as you made some childish joke.

If she could, she would write an essay about all the things she loved about you and why. But she wasn’t sure there was enough paper in the world for that. So, she would rely on her inner monologue to keep track of all the beautiful qualities surrounding you.

And tonight was no exception. You looked as beautiful as always; skinny jeans with one of her shirts that were baggy on you. Swallowing your frame to a certain extent, but allowing her to make out the curve of your hips. It looked cute. Sam wasn’t afraid to make it known that she was staring either. After all, she’d asked you to stay close since this was a party and there weren’t many people either of you knew in New York.

So, to please her, you did as she asked. Staying within arm’s length and one of her fingers secretly hooked in one of your belt loops. Unbothered by the faint tug once and a while. But you continued chatting with some people and getting to know a bit about the city and some parties that were being planned. But you hadn’t noticed a guy awkwardly make his way over from Chad and a group of guys from his classes. Sam had seen it though and judging by Chad’s teasing smirk, he was tempting her to do something about it.

To show her protectiveness over you.

Everyone in the group knew that Sam had feelings for you, except you. Tara didn’t like the idea simply because she found it gross. Often warning Sam that she would kill her if you two ever hooked up or dated. But Sam wasn’t good with listening to orders. Especially if it revolved around you.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you from around here?” A random boy asked, dragging your attention from a girl you’d been talking to. He was a good foot taller than you. Curly strands and a romanticizing aura about him. He looked like the type that tried to fit in with the cool kids and get laid, but he was too good for that. A classic cliche.

Seeing your confused expression, he placed a hand on his chest with a chuckle. “Sorry, my bad. I’m Ethan. A pleasure to meet you.”

You’d had your run in’s with guys trying to flirt. Yet, you still had the same question pop up in your head; how do I let them down easy? It would take a simple, “Sorry, I’m not really interested,” or an, “I’m already taken. Sorry,” but you felt like it was too harsh. And to be honest, the guy had a creepy look in his eyes. Most times you humoured people and gave them a chance to catch your attention. Try and hold a strong conversation, but when you start to try up talking points that seemed too complex for them, they fell face flat. With this “Ethan”, you weren’t really at the spot to humour whatever he had to say.

“Uh, I’m good, thanks,” you said as politely as possible. Forcing a smile before turning your gaze back to the girl you were talking to before.

Ethan laughed, glancing back at Chad who waved at him encouragingly. Hesitantly reaching toward you and places his hand on your shoulder. “I never caught your name-”

“Is there a problem?” Sam’s arms curled around your waist, gently pulling you to sit in her lap with your arm instinctively wrapping around her shoulders. Managing to save face with a gentle smile playing across your lips, looking up at the boy.

But it felt like years before Ethan responded and you were able to feel Sam’s hands move at a tantalizingly slow pace. Almost teasing you. Once resting on your hips and holding you right on her crotch, they now ran up and down your thighs. Her nails dug into the denim pants and lips kissing the exposed parts of your skin. Shoulders, neck, and ear which she promptly nibbled on.

You weren’t sure if she was just trying to push the motive of you two being an “item”. But it felt amazing.

“She’s your girlfriend?” Ethan asked, pointing at you. At the sight of Sam’s older and predatory demeanour, he couldn’t help but shift uneasily. That and the fact that Sam looked about ready to tear your clothes off at the drop of a hat. Primarily at your simple request, which she hoped would be the case.

Sam paused her kisses along your shoulder and looked up at Ethan through hooded eyes. “What of it? You wanna fuck her?” She asked, catching the boy off guard. Her lips brushed against the shell of your ear, making you exhale shakily as she whispered, “Would you like that, Y/n? Would you want him to fuck you?”

It had to be alcohol. It had to be the catalyst for her saying or acting in such a way. This wasn’t like her ambushing you in the hallway of her apartment. Or her whispered praises in your ear.

“Only you can.”

Hearing that drew a deep hum from Sam’s chest. Her hands rested on the inside of your thighs squeezing gently and causing you to bite your bottom lip. And that seemed like enough for Ethan to get the memo and walk away, trying to hide the faint tent in his pants.

You let out a sigh, smiling faintly. “Thank you so much, Sam.” You began to sit up. “I thought he wouldn’t ever leave me alone-”

Before you could get too far, Sam caught your hand and pulled you gently. Hoping to not crash down into her, you placed your hands along the back of the couch and straddled her. Not intentional, but the look on Sam’s face this close was too good to back away.

Hooded eyes by the copious amounts of alcohol you saw her drink and wet palms from the effect of weed Chad had shared with her. Her hands softly glide to trace the curves of your figure. Intently watching how her hands caught slightly caught the sides of your shirt to reveal your stomach. She tucked her bottom beneath her teeth, finding balance on your hips and gently beginning to rock you.

This was all new to you. You had your first kiss, first make-out session, and first girlfriend. But sex was completely foreign. For someone who got a lot of attention from guys and girls in high school, you never dared indulge yourself in that type of thing. You liked to make up the excuse that you weren’t ready for it whenever Tara questioned you on it. But you were just waiting for the right person. Someone that was going to sweep you off your feet and take your breath away

But since Sam came into your life, you wanted to feel something. The forbidden 4 letter word was always on the tip of your tongue whenever she was around. Whenever her large hands rested on your hips when you reached for something in the cupboard. Or when you were bent over, you caught her staring a little too long at your ass. Because if love wasn’t you staring at the girl from across the room, taken aback by her beautiful features, then you weren’t sure what love was. Being in her presence was like weights being alleviated from your shoulders. Always able to match her energy under the right circumstances. And if felt like tonight, you wanted to set the tone.

Your hands slid from the back of the couch with one hand finding solace on the side of her neck and the other resting on her side, thumb just barely touching her breasts. “What’re you thinking about?” You whispered, voice drowning in the loud music and conversations happening throughout the house. Yet, she seemed to hear you loud and clear. Everything else falls into the background and is forgotten. Only you becoming her thoughts and source of attention.

“Did you mean it?” She whispered, head rolling back to look at your elevated position. “Are you only mine to enjoy?” Her hands slid further down, kneading at your round ass. Your hips followed the movement she had set moments prior.

There was a hazy shroud that fell over the two of you that pushed the extra confidence in you. It could be the own toxic substances clinging to your thoughts, persuading you. But you grounded your hips roughly against the crotch of her jeans. Clamping your lips shut when the friction to your clit sent a lovely shot of bliss through your system.

Leaning your lips down enough for your hot breath to fan her neck. “Match me and maybe that becomes reality.”

Lust clouded Sam’s senses as she pulls away just enough to make out features. Finding no ounce of hesitance or force. Only desire. A senseless and primal feeling that she’d managed to submit for the past few months. And now, it felt like the chains had been unbound allowing her to be free.

Her hands cupped your face, kissing you feverishly. Her hands threading through your hair and pulling you incredibly closer. The two of you pushed against one another, seeking to feel each other's body more extensively than ever before.

You wanted everything that came with Sam.

By the time you, Sam, and the others got back to the apartment, Sam was already pulling you in the direction of her room.

From the moment she had you sprawled out on her bed, practically shivering from the lack of warmth her touch provided you, she wanted all of you. She wanted you to beg. She wanted to absorb every piece of you and have you coming back for more. What she wanted was to claim you for herself. Take the innocence from you and make you into a doll that craved nothing else but her touch.

Maybe she was just drunk off your taste, but it’d been on her mind for quite some time.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Sam whispered against the inside of her thighs. Her soaked lips softly grazed your sensitive sable skin that was marked by her teeth and lips. Forcing a whimper from your lips. “You don’t know how soaked I am just from hearing those cute little noises. Fuck, I’ve wanted to hear them for so long.”

Her voice was muddied beneath the past four orgasms she ripped selfishly from you. And now, she was dragging out the fourth. Enjoying herself and tasting every piece of you she could. Safe to say that this being your first time, it was the best anyone could ever ask for.

She didn’t let you do anything either. All she told you was to lie down and enjoy it. Soak up the feeling of her tongue abusing your clit and her tongue pressing past your fluttering entrance that squeezed around nothing. And that’s what you did. You let your legs rest over her shoulders and grip the sheets as you moaned and cried out her name. Thighs occasionally twitching and squeezing Sam’s head. But she never relented. Not when she’s thought about being in this position for months. And being crushed by your thighs was just too pleasing to complain about.

“S-Sam, you f-feel amazing.” You could barely get the incoherent sentence out, but it fueled the fire in the older girl’s stomach. A new reinvigoration struck her heart as she delved deeper. Everything beneath her eyes became smothered in your juices that she drank from like they were a divine potion from the Holy Grail. She wanted every last drop if it made you feel good.

But this action, the faint shake of her head and moan caused the coil in your stomach to tighten. With her tongue slowly exiting you, the emptiness was soon replaced by two fingers. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling as her digits did the same.

There was a sensation. Something familiar, but foreign in how it felt. A build-up. It almost felt like you were peeing? You couldn’t think much about it before the pleasure began to take it course with the build-up quickly releasing. Your legs convulsed as you placed your hands against Sam’s forehead, attempting to push her away as your head snapped back with a cry. “W-Wait- Sam-!” But her hands wrapped around your thighs kept her in place, causing the overstimulation to finally take’s it hold. “Fuck! Holy fuck, Sam!”

Your hips lifted off the bed, a cry following after as Sam pulled away, grinning widely at the sight of you coming undone. And her fingers worked slower than before. Helping you down from the high as your body lay in her with a wet patch surrounding your apex. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Sam nibbling on her bottom lip, her face drenched and strands of her hair sticking to her forehead. But that was the least of her concerns as she simply stared at your puffy red cunt.

“Sam…” you panted as her fingers slowly stroked the inside crease of your thighs. Dangerously close to where she’d been occupied for the past hour. And when her thumb lightly flicked over your clit, you whined, which she promptly quietened with a soft kiss on your leg.

“It’s ok, baby. We’re done with you for the night.” The open-ended sentence left you dreadful for what she had planned. But when she stripped herself bare, allowing you to see her in her full glory, heat found itself between your legs. She crawled toward you, lips still pulled into a grin as she said. “I’ve always wondered and dreamed of what your fingers would feel like inside of me.”

Taking your hand, she gently pulled it toward her soaked lips, groaning as you stared in shock. “You gonna give me what I want, sweetheart?”

Unfortunately, the two of you had forgotten about the trio left in the apartment when you two disappeared. Leaving them to sit on the couch in awkward silence watching a random movie turned up to full volume to block out the extra noise. But it didn’t help.

Chad, who hugged a pillow to his chest, blew out a breath. “I really did not think that sending Ethan over there would’ve resulted like this.”

And when both Chad and Mindy looked at Tara they found the girl repeatedly tapping her head off the table, muttering, “I want to die. I want to die. I want to die.”

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sunny-speaks · 10 months

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Early Mornings

Character(s): Ren from @14dayswithyou !! x reader

Renren fic!!

Just a real big self indulgent ren fic… cause while i absolutely act feral for my boy redacted, renren is a guilty pleasure for me !!

Fic under the cut, mild implied NSFW at the beginning and end! Pretty implicit imo, but I'd advise minors to DNI anyway !

It had been a couple weeks since you first had hooked up with that, as Teo called him, Cotton-candy mascot of yours, Ren. You weren’t sure why you invited him over that day, or why you decided to take things further to be fair.

But you regretted nothing.

As sunlight made its way through the slits of your semi-transparent curtains, filtering the UV rays to be less blinding, you looked over to your right as Ren slept soundly, arms posessively snaking around your waist as if he was scared of you leaving him.

Sometimes, you didn’t quite understand his protective urge to ‘keep you safe and protect’ you, but if it was a red flag, it was one that went unnoticed.

After all, your Renren was too cute to hurt a fly.

Even if he had those commonly odd mood swings of his.

You gently tucked away cotton candy coloured strands of hair behind his ears and parted his bangs before gently pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. And then another, and another, and so on.

Gently cupping his face, you saw the corners of his lips quiver slightly when you lovingly laid another kiss to the corner of his eyelids. You teasingly rolled your eyes, “You’ve been awake this whole time, hm?”

His eyelashes quickly fluttered open as nervous sky-blue eyes looked back at you, “M-maybe I was… W-Would that be so bad?” There’s the obvious tone of anxiety, but there’s an edge of teasing to his words. Maybe if you hadn’t grown so accustomed to it, you would’ve pointed it out.

“I mean, it just shows how much you enjoy being smothered by affection. You’re greedy, you know that, Ren?” Your words would cut deep if they weren’t laced with a teasing edge and the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen you wear in the morning.

Usually, he’d only be able to see your face through a camera. And while it was high quality, it’d never compare to having you choose to smile at him, instead of seeing you smile at something else. Now that he had a taste, there was no going back.

Even if it was an uncommon or common experience, seeing you smile at him only him, forever and ever and ever and ever was such an ethereal sensation, it made him only prouder he had given you the nickname Angel.

You paused before rubbing his flushed cheeks with your thumbs, giving him another forehead kiss. He could feel your smile grow against his skin and it gave him butterflies. “But you’re lucky I’m more than glad to make you happy.” You kissed him in the space between his eyebrows. “More than glad to spoil you with whatever you want.” A kiss to the corner of his left and right eyes. “More than glad to keep you with me forever.” And god, he hoped you didn’t see him shiver at that last line.

The mere thought of being with you made him so elated. But you choosing to keep him? Forever? You might as well have proposed to him on the spot! He would always be yours, if that's what you asked of him. And you wanted to give him anything he wanted?? No matter what it was?

Ah, he could’ve died happy. But he can’t die before you, of course!

He let out a shaky chuckle, “Mmm, I’m so unbelievably lucky to be with you, Angel. I’ll be yours forever, you just need to say the word.” He pulled himself closer to you and gently nuzzled into the nape of your neck.

You weren’t sure if you were the big spoon or the small spoon anymore, your legs entwined and chests pressed together. You could feel his breath fan against your collarbones as he tried to inhale as much of you as he could. You chuckled, a flustered note to your voice, “You’re a little too drowsy to be proposing now, Ren? With the way you’re talking it sounds like you enjoy me being possessive of you.” You combed through his hair, a playful grin on your face, “Bet you would like being called my Ren, huh?”

Woah.

That did things to him. A lot more intense than he would like to admit unfortunately… He was praying you didn’t feel anything twitch at your wording. ‘Your Ren?’ Like he belonged to you? Like he was yours to own? Yours to love? Yours to devote himself to?

His heart hammered in his chest and his whole body went flush. He tried to rein himself in, clearly not wanting things to escalate. It was still the beginning of the morning !

Of course, he would love to do nothing more than spend it with you all day. But you had to eat first, he wouldn’t let it slide if you skipped a meal! Your health is much more important than his… health.

You arched your back into him as you stretched, unknowingly(or maybe knowingly…) aggravating his problem much more than he would’ve liked. He stifled a low groan as you sat up in bed. “Well, we should probably start making breakfast… I picked up some groceries yesterday I think.” You peeled off your blanket and strolled towards the door before turning back at Ren. “You coming, or what?”

He looked dazed and in his own world, before snapping his attention at your voice immediately, red taking over his face, “A-Ah, um…! I’ll be right there!”

You paused and raised your eyebrows at him teasingly, “Clean yourself up after you take care of your problem, alright, Ren? Don’t forget, I’m in the room over, if you need any…” You sent him a mirthful wink, “Help.”

He let that sink in for a moment as you made your way to your kitchen before sinking his humiliated face into his hands. You had obviously looked down, hadn’t you?

He was wearing a small pair of shorts and his white top still, something… unfortunately prominent in his pants.

He let out a wistful sigh at his future actions. You both already knew what he was about to do.

A shaky whine chimed from your bedroom, “A-Angel… St-Stop teasing me…”And with a wide smirk, you made your way back to your beloved Ren, ready to give him everything he wanted and more.

#✨ full fic #yandere #yandere x reader #14dwy ren #ren x reader #14dwy x reader x #visual novel #14 days with you

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atlasofthestaars · 5 months

Text

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .014

first part | previous part | next part

NOTES:

Hoping for the best that I get this out sooner than nearly 3 weeks haha I’ll update this part with how that goes.

Edit: I had a very hectic last few weeks. Oops. But here’s the chapter finally haha

Some of the ideas in the fic, like the Johnny section was helped by some of my anons on tumblr, ty guys for interacting!

As requested, here’s Rain’s repoll! Probably the only repoll I will do haha ^^ AO3 fans give me your thoughts! The poll will end in a week!

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO HAS TO HELP SOMEONE OUT

“I thought I would find you here.”

It was a warm night. It was the type of night where one could sit outside for hours on end listening to the crickets chirp. The sky above was the perfect accompaniment this particular night, being so clear and free from clouds and any sort of light pollution that you could nearly see the entirety of the universe above. It was the perfect night for one to relax and enjoy life.

But that was not what was happening.

You stood on the very beginning of the crest of the hill, a little away from Liu Kang. Your eyes scanned the hunched over form of your friend. It was an odd look on him, a form so undisciplined from one of the most diligent men you knew. As odd as it was, it only made sense. After all, how could you expect a picture perfect form from a man who has lost his best friend?

The grass rustled as you walked forward, moving to stand right next to where Liu Kang sat. You kept your gaze forward, not turning your head to look at him. You didn’t need to. Without even looking at his face, you could tell all the emotions that he must be experiencing. Frustration, grief, loneliness. It was the same emotions that had been clinging to your friend like tar for a while now.

So, instead, you stared adamantly at the tree. A rush of emotions surged through you as your gaze settled on it. So many memories were connected to this tree. Long days of just relaxing under this tree with Kung Lao came to mind. The three of you would sit under here, chatting and enjoying each other’s companies as the cicadas would sing in the background.

Or sometimes, you would find Kung Lao here, having sneakily gotten out of lessons to simply sit and snack on a few treats he had stolen from the kitchen. You never sold him out. Even when your father gave you a pointed look, you would feign innocence and claim that you had no idea where the razor hatted man went.

It only made sense to bury him here, underneath the tree he loved so, so much. It was even his favorite type of tree, the cherry blossom.

A certain silence hung in the air. It was the silence that could only be made by those who have lost someone important to them. It was the combined silence of someone who had let grief consume him and of someone who refused to grieve yet. The two reactions to the death of your friend could not be any more different between the two of you, but the unspoken words between you two could not be any more the same.

You both missed him, dearly.

“He died in vain.” Liu Kang spoke, breaking the vow of silence he had taken on. His voice was hoarse. You knew it must be from the lack of talking. But there was another part of you who knew the gravel-like quality to his voice must be from his grief and how it tore at him. You could not help but let out a sigh as you dropped your eyes to the humble gravestone in front of you.

“I know.” You replied, your voice laced with resignation. There was a tremble in your voice, your lip quivered for a moment before you set your jaw to prevent the little sign of weakness from persisting. You could not help the slump in your shoulders. It was a hard, harsh truth you’ve come to accept. As much as you’d like to believe that Kung Lao’s death meant something, the invasions Outworld has been sending as of late has proven otherwise.

You turned your gaze to Liu Kang. It was not inaccurate to say he looked like a wreck. Reddened eyes which felt like they carried the weight of the world met yours. You could still see the freshly dried tear tracks on Liu Kang’s face. It seemed like, at least for now, the champion had finally run out of tears to shed for his long time friend.

“Kung Lao would hate to see you like this.” You said, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. You observed the way the man carried himself, and how he almost seemed like a different man entirely. The fury that he had held when he had slain Shao Kahn had burnt out, and only in his eyes could you see the remnants of the dying embers.

“I wish he were here to at least see it.” Liu Kang spat out, bitterness dripping from his voice. You did not flinch at it. You knew well enough the vitriol in his tone was not directed at you. Even if it was, the man was hurting. How could you blame him? His head raised to look at the cherry blossoms, idly watching as a few dropped and scattered around in the breeze.

“Hey, look at me.” You said, tone gentle and soft. You watched as Liu Kang kept his gaze aloft, eyes searching the skies above for an answer to his prayers. You sighed as you raised a hand, putting it gently to his cheek. Even when his fire was put out, he felt warm. Your thumb rubbed softly upon his cheek, taking a moment to wipe away the tracks that the tears left. “I know you’re grieving, but you’re falling apart.”

Liu Kang leaned into your touch. You watched as his eyes attempted to brim with tears he no longer had. His hand rose to cover yours, clinging to it as if your hand was a lifeline. You felt your heart shatter at the sight, but still, you refused to let the man in front of you see your resolve break. You could care less if he saw you at your weakest, you trusted Liu Kang enough to let down your walls. But you knew now you did not have the luxury.

The world was falling apart. Invasions were arriving. You and others would need to forge a group to fight them off. Raiden would need a confidant who had a clear mind. Liu Kang needed an anchor to keep him from drifting off. All of these duties needed someone who could rise to the occasion, and you were willing to do so your allies would not have such a heavy burden.

It was the very least you could do to make up for failing Kung Lao. You could only hope that the others did not see how much your heart was aching too.

“I’m not asking you to stop grieving.” You said. You were slow to speak, choosing each word carefully so as to not upset your friend anymore than he was. “I’m not asking you to forget him either, but you need to start living again.” The way you delivered those words felt less like a moving speech to inspire him to move on, but more like a desperate plea.

“How?” Liu Kang’s voice cracked and at the same time, your heart squeezed. His eyes searched you, as if the answer to his question would be written upon your skin. You felt his hand squeeze yours with desperation. You did not complain about the tight grip, keeping your gaze steady on his face. “How am I supposed to live knowing he won’t be here anymore?”

In truth, you didn’t know how. But you couldn’t tell your friend that. You couldn’t let him drift aimlessly anymore than he already was, you had to do something. So, instead, you gave him a soft smile as you rubbed his cheek softly once more. You prayed to the elder gods that he did not see the weakness in your eyes.

“Well first, you must take little baby steps.” You said, trying to think of the years worth of advice you had gotten from your father. “I think the first step you can begin to do is to start taking care of yourself again.” You gestured to his form. “Stop skipping meals, stop spending hours out here on end, and start letting yourself accept the fact that he is gone.” You took a deep breath. “I know that sounds like a lot, but I can’t watch you let yourself deteriorate anymore.”

“But Kung La-”

“Wouldn’t want you to stay by his grave like this.” You interrupted him, sending him a worried look. You closed your eyes and thought back to your friend. “If anything, he’d be upset that you’re doing this. He’d want you to live in his stead, to carry on his stories.” You paused, opening your eyes to watch Liu Kang’s face as you let him absorb your words.

There was a long period of silence that stretched between you. Afraid to break the fragile tension, you even held your breath. Conflict danced in his eyes, wavering between whether to trust you or the hurt that dragged him down. Silently, you pleaded for him to believe you. You already couldn’t save one friend, you had to save another.

You couldn’t fail again.

“Alright.” Liu Kang croaked. And finally, you let yourself breathe. His eyes fluttered closed as he seemed to lean his weight into your hand. In that moment, it felt like you took on his burdens. You forced your hand to be still, so he did not see your will waver. The slightest of slimes appeared on his lips, and you felt your heart soar. For even just a bit of his happiness, you would take on the world. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, hoping he didn’t hear the way your voice nearly cracked. His eyes opened, and you put on a smile for him. You watched as he sat there, watching you for a few more moments before he let go of your hand. When stood up, wobbling just a touch. You wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. Gently, you squeezed his hip. “Come on, let’s go inside, Princess Kitana has been dying to thank you for freeing her and I have to go with Nightwolf to find a new base in America to help with the recent invasions.”

“Thank you.” Liu Kang said, his voice full of warmth.

“It’s no issue.” You said, your words full of sincerity and fondness. “I would do anything for you.” You told him, a broad smile on your lips. Your heart felt lighter than it has in a while. Just barely, you caught the hint of pink upon his ears when he turned his head. “I’ll have your back, always, Liu Kang.”

Waking up felt like a haze.

The warmth of Liu Kang’s flank against your side lingered. You laid upon the bed, which had been somewhat patched up due to you sewing up the sheets and the mattress. Your hand fiddled with the sheets, staring up at the soft glow on the ceiling as you ruminated upon what you had discovered and what to exactly do with this information.

How strange it was despite your long years of knowing Liu Kang, you still had memories left to discover with him connected to them. And those words you said, why did they feel so familiar? Not familiar in the sense that you had said them, but you swore you heard them elsewhere. You thought long and hard about it, trying to find a rhyme or reason why you had these feelings. There were several minutes that passed. You sighed as you rubbed your head. The most logical conclusion you could come up with was that it was because you’ve been in Outworld.

What else could it be? All these memories did resurface ever since you’ve gotten here.

You paused, a sudden thought breaking through the rest like a sprinter did when they ran towards the finish. You breath caught as you stared at the ceiling. Was there any point in returning to Earthrealm if all your memories were here? You laid there for a long while after, unable to ignore the logic your brain was conjuring up.

You groaned as rubbed at your face. There was no point incessantly worrying over this issue, it was not like you could do anything to change the duration of your stay here. At least, that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself. The little whisper in your head would try and continue to try and think over it. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your fingers glided over the hasty sewed up areas of the bed, noting the bumpiness. You’d just hope no one would notice.

Then, after a few more moments of sitting, you sighed. You sighed so hard, like you were trying to relinquish your worries that way. You closed your eyes, trying to rid your worries once more. Then after that futile attempt, you got up and stretched. Might as well start your day.

After going through the morning routine you’ve become somewhat accustomed to, you stepped out into the hall. Perhaps it was the room, or maybe it was the last of the warm memories finally leaving, but it felt…colder outside. Not enough to have you shivering, but it sent a slight chill through you. A few goosebumps appeared on your arms.

You stood there for a moment. At first, you didn’t realize why, but then as you heard the tapping of feet coming from the far down hallway you realized you were waiting. You turned your head to see the usual culprit, Princess Kitana. You gave her a cheery wave to which she gave a respectable nod. You met her halfway down the hallway. If someone were to observe, they may notice, just for a fleeting moment, that her steps went faster before meeting you.

“Glad to see we’re both back on schedule.” You commented, a light playful tone to your voice. You watched as Kitana’s eyes squinted slightly, the edges of her lips curved upwards in the slightest smile. She hummed, a hint of amusement in her voice. As soon as you joined her side she seemed to be content and nodded, as if she were acknowledging that contentment. Still, as you stood next to her, you felt that familiar nagging feeling once more.

Why did you always feel it around her?

“I heard you got the privilege to tour the Imperial Academy.” Kitana spoke, breaking the silence. Her voice did not hide her intrigue at the idea of you at the academy. Her eyes seemed to rake over you, scrutinizing every little detail of you she could see. You resisted the urge to shiver, to not show the slight moment of weakness upon her observant gaze. “How did you find it?” She inquired a moment later, her voice seeming to imply she already knew your answer. Your eyebrows raised just very at the thought.

“It was lovely.” You admitted, finding yourself unable to conceal the underlying admiration you felt towards the location. You tilted your head upwards to look at the vast expanse of white marble overhead, thinking of all the wonders you had seen. You were even beginning to see the swirls of magic within the material above. You didn’t think you were obsessed, but it would be hard to deny that idea with how you were seeing things that weren’t even there. You didn’t notice how her smile grew, becoming less restrained. “I wish magic was more used in Earthrealm, it’d be nice to see a school much like the academy there.”

“You seem very interested in magic.” The princess said, reading your reaction. It wasn’t an incredibly difficult feat though, it was obvious to anyone who could see. You could not help but nod in response, only feeling a touch embarrassed at being so obvious. A small chuckle left your lips. Her eyes seemed to soften, if just a touch. “If I recall correctly, you have magic as well. Animal shapeshifting, correct? I overheard it at the banquet.”

“Yes, animal shapeshifting.” You confirmed. You held out your hand, letting it shift into a lion’s paw outstretched with its claws out. You saw the hint of amazement in Kitana’s eyes. Her eyes traced the length of your transformed limb, then stared intently at the flesh where it transitioned. “I’d like to think I’m rather proficient in it.”

“I see.” The blue clad princess said, her tone indicating a hint of interest at your display of magic. “Had you been an Outworlder, I would say you would have a chance at excelling greatly at the Academy.” She admitted. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the high praise. Then, you felt a little silly at being so pleased at the compliment. After all, it’s not like it meant you could get in even with your magical skills.

“A shame that I’m not.” You say, a small wistful tone in your voice. It still felt…odd to not label yourself as an Outworlder. In Earthrealm, you did not feel right calling yourself one of them. But here, you did not feel right calling yourself an Outworlder either. Was there really a label you’d feel comfortable with?

“Perhaps, in another life, you could have.” Kitana said, offering you an apologetic smile. You nearly stumbled in your steps upon hearing those words, and the nagging feeling disappeared as the pieces fell into place. Your eyes widened and you stared at the princess, who seemed none the wiser as she gazed into the Great Hall, which you both had ended up at finally.

That’s why you had that feeling and why it was always around her.

Those were the exact words she said as she had laid dying in your lap, in that vision you had about the amulet. Your fingers twitched as you took in a deep breath, holding back a wave of nostalgia as you gazed at her for a few moments more. It was an odd feeling, seeing the princess alive and healthy with little idea of who you were compared to the last time when she had said those words and she had been one of your closest allies and dying in your lap.

“Enjoy the match.” Kitana bid you goodbye, offering a small smile before walking off. You nodded, barely able to return her goodbye before she was out of earshot. Your gaze lingered on her a moment more. Your stomach twisted, and you were uncertain how to make use of the information you had gleaned.

Why did it seem like everyone you had cared about in the last life died?

Was that fated to happen once more?

Before you could get too lost in your spiraling thoughts, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your thoughts paused, as if the hand on your shoulder pulled you away from all the noise. You turned your head slowly to see Kenshi looking at you, eyebrows raised. You sent him a bit of a forced smile, trying to not worry him any more than he seemed to be.

“You were spacing out.” Kenshi said simply. His eyes focused on you, searching your face for any indication for your unusual behavior. You felt your smile grow the slightest bit strained, like a string being pulled just a bit too tight. His eyebrows knit together, and you felt a sense of embarrassment at how he could read your expression.

Or maybe you were just easy to read in general. Either way, you didn’t feel too great about that.

“Early mornings, you know how it is.” You said, using possibly the lamest excuse you could have. You nearly wanted to smack your forehead as you realized how uncharacteristic that sounded as well. If anyone were to say that excuse, you were the last one who should have. Your jaw set a tiny bit more, trying to make your smile more prominent.

“I see.” Kenshi said, after a few more moments. There was an odd tension between the two of you. It was the type of tension that could only be made between someone who had lied very, very horribly, and by someone who could see right through the lie as if it were the most polished glass in the world. His hand squeezed your shoulder.

Your gaze dropped to the hand on your shoulder. You stared at the tattoo on his hands, having nearly forgotten the designs on his hands. He didn’t put them on display very often. Your lips pursed, and you thought long and hard about whether he had similar tattoos, if any, in the old timeline. You don’t think he did.

“See something interesting?” Kenshi’s words cut through your thoughts. You glanced up, seeing his concerned expression having changed into one of interest. The ex-yakuza member’s eyebrows were raised, and his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His eyes, which you now noted to be just the perfect shade for him, were trained on you. There was a certain tone to his voice that you couldn’t pin down, was it playfulness?

“I was just looking at your tattoos. They’re really pretty.” You admitted, before wanting to smack yourself. It was not because of the admittance, it was because you had forgotten the connection the tattoos had to his past. “Not that I think they’re too pretty, because of your connection with your past.” You quickly added on, resisting the urge to cringe at the addition. You sighed and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “I think they’re nice, regardless of your past, is what I meant.”

“Maybe the early morning is getting to you.” Kenshi said, his voice having just the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt to it. Once more, he squeezed your shoulder. His eyes seemed to shine a bit, and a smile grew. Out of all your champions, he smiled the least. But whenever he did, you always seemed to notice how bright it felt to you. “But thank you for the compliment, now let’s join the group. Even Cage is there now.”

And so, the two of you walked over to the group. A round of greetings were passed between the group. You did your best to maintain your steady composure. It was getting harder and harder with all the memories coming back rapidly, especially with how dreadful they’ve been lately. Liu Kang and Kung Lao’s greetings were the hardest to return as you were trying your best not to space out and linger on the differences between their past selves and now.

Still, you did it, and no one seemed the wiser. Kung Lao had even given you some food. You were nearly honored by the gesture, knowing he saved you some food instead of taking it all for himself. You let out a small huff at the little wink he sent your way when he handed you an extra portion.

“What was up with your little moment with Tattoo?” Johnny asked, leaning over with an all too nosy tone in his voice. You’ve seen the older women in Fengjian be less nosy than he was. And man were they always vying for some gossip whenever you visited Madam Bo. You sent him a perplexed look, which seemed to spur him on. “You know, like, when he had his hand on your shoulder.” He said. His hands were very emotive, portraying the story all on their own.

“Nothing.” You said, dismissively. You shrugged, and you watched as Johnny seemed to deflate at your answer. He was either not pleased at the lackluster answer, or how little you elaborated. Probably even a mixture of both. “It was seriously nothing, he just noticed I was spacing out.” You continued, hoping to satiate the little bit of curiosity he had.

“Mhm, sure.” He replied, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “We’ll discuss this later.” The actor insisted. You opened your mouth to respond that there was nothing else to discuss, but then the Empress and princesses strode in, causing you to fall silent. Instead, you sent him a hint of a glare. Of course, the actor didn’t care, just sending you a sunny grin in return.

What unlucky timing.

“Once again, we gather to witness another day of the tournament.” Sindel announced, scanning the crowd. When her eyes landed on Raiden, who seemed to be growing in confidence with every win, her lips pursed. You held back a chuckle at the slight annoyance that glimmered in her eyes. You saw her take in a deep breath before continuing. “After three fights, your resolve has not yet broken.” She observed, raising an eyebrow. “Today, we shall see if that will change.”

There was a pause before she continued.

“Today, you shall fight one of my most trusted allies.” The Empress announced. You were surprised for a brief moment. The last two fights were chosen by the general, did she finally get fed up with his choices? You held back yet another laugh at the prospect. “Sheeva of the Shokan shall be your opponent today.”

From the end of the hallway emerged a broad, tall figure. Nearly rivaling Kotal in size, a woman dressed in battle-ready armor appeared. You felt a slight buzz upon seeing her, but nothing overly major. Her armor, though indicative of a warrior, appeared different from the ones that both Reiko, Kotal, and General Shao had all donned. It was a hint more decorative, and it reminded you very slightly of the umgadi gear. A purple sash that matched Sindel’s colors was pinned across her body.

“Sheeva is one of the best warriors from the Shokan. Fierce and loyal, she is one of the best guards and warriors I have come to know.” Sindel said, a certain type of fondness in her voice. It felt like a stark contrast to the way she had regarded Li Mei. Sheeva seemed to take the praise in stride, holding her head up high. All four of her arms flexed, showing the muscles that she had gained through the years. “May she grace us with a fight to display just how well she can fight.”

“I have heard many things about your prowess, young one.” Sheeva spoke, gazing down at Raiden. Her face, though it looked unimpressed, did seem to hold just a bit of respect within it. Her upper arms crossed over her chest, while the lower set of arms were firmly placed upon her hips. Her gaze was so strong it was nearly unnerving. “We shall see if they are true.”

“I will try my best to prove it true.” Raiden replied, nodding. Despite the difference in both bulk and height, Raiden seemed to not be cowed in the slightest. You smiled at the sight, feeling proud of the strength he displayed. He has certainly come a long way since the beginning of your training. From a meek sapling to a strong, sturdy tree.

Sheeva’s way of fighting reminded you a bit of Reiko’s. They both utilized the same grappling style, trying to latch onto Raiden like a leech to hit him. The Shokan was amazingly proficient at using all of her arms within combat. Her fighting style, though like the second in command, did not match the calculated way she fought. That part of her felt more like Kotal.

Her brutality was not out of bloodlust, but from the cold precision of knowing her true strength and how to use it against her opponent. Even when she stomped harshly on Raiden’s back, there was no maniac energy from her. It was a detail that you did not miss.

Had Raiden not fought against other grapplers and those who already outsized him in a match, he would have fared far worse. But, unfortunately for the Shokan, it seemed that the previous two matches only served to prepare him for this fight. Sure, he did take a heavy hit here and there, but for the most part it went far smoother than the last few matches did.

It did not take long for him to stand over Sheeva, a tired but elated look on his face.

“I hope that proved my determination to you.” He said, his voice a bit breath as he adjusted his rumpled clothes. A groan left the beaten Shokan’s face. But as she stumbled to her feet, she seemed to nod in response. Her head dipped low, a look of shame coating her face. She seemed to hold herself a little less tall now. The two exchanged bows, before the woman walked out, her footsteps heavy with defeat.

“Congratulations upon yet another win.” Sindel said, her lips curling upwards. Her smile, once again, did not reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes did not even seem to follow the victor. Instead, they trailed after Sheeva, a slight look of disappointment within them. She cleared her throat, and the momentary weakness disappeared. “We shall adjourn at first light once again.”

“Hah, was that even a challenge for you?” Kung Lao spoke, walking merrily to his friend. A playful shove was sent Raiden’s way. A small “ow” left his lips as he rubbed his arm, which certainly must be sore from how Sheeva had been tugging him around. “I think you’ve got this in the bag!” He encouraged, though this time it lacked the little shove.

“Indeed, your training reflects well in your matches.” Liu Kang added in. He sent a little bit of a look towards Kung Lao. “Remember not to grow complacent, the next few matches may prove to be more challenging than the previous ones.” He warned. His hands were clasped neatly in front of him. The fire god’s gaze then turned to you, expectantly.

“Lord Liu Kang is right. As long as you remember what we taught you when you fight, you’ll do fine.” You said, giving him a small smile. You crossed your arms as you shifted your weight. “But I do agree, you’ll need to be vigilant. I’d say it was a lucky streak that your last opponents had similar fighting styles, but the next few may fight very differently from them.” You placed a hand on his arm, trying to be comforting. “But I, and so do the rest of us, believe in you.”

“I-” Raiden began, seeming a bit caught off guard by either your words or the touch on his arm. He cleared his throat, a faint flush on his cheeks. Johnny took your attention away by slinging an arm around your shoulders. Turning to give him a confused look and to shrug off his touch, you missed the brief look that Raiden sent your way before you turned back. “I understand, I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” You commended, sending him a bigger smile this time. Then, after a moment, your hand dropped from his arm. Liu Kang picked up from your little moment, telling the group a few things before he dismissed them. You watched as Liu Kang, Kenshi, and Raiden all walked off. But Kung Lao lingered, a look of contemplation on his face. You tilted your head as you walked forward to stand next to the man. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking.” Kung Lao answered, a thoughtful tone to his voice. You raised your eyebrows, nodding to see if he would go on. After a few moments, he did. “I know Raiden deserved to be the champion but…” He said, trailing off as he looked to the side. You nodded, placing a hand on his bicep and squeezed it gently, making him return his gaze to you.

“I admire your willingness to fight.” You said, cautiously picking your words. The memory of the old Kung Lao dying because he had been far too eager to fight lingered in your mind. Was it a warning of things to come? Or was it merely just a stain in your mind that would never go away? “But know that we all see your value even without you launching yourself head first into battle.” You pinched his arm. “Don’t go around and be reckless to try and prove yourself, okay?”

“If I were to fight though, I’d win.” Kung Lao retorted playfully, but that attitude melted away to reveal a more genuine smile. “I know, though.” He said, nodding. “I promise I won’t go around picking fights…unless they deserve it.” He said, grinning at you. When you sent him an unamused look, he rolled his eyes before laughing. “I’m kidding! I won’t.” He claimed, raising his hands up in surrender.

“Good. I’m going to do some shopping now, okay?” You said, nodding with a satisfied smile. You dropped your hand, missing the way the farmhand’s eyes trailed after it. As you were about to walk off to go tour Sun Do for gifts, you felt a hand upon your arm. Your eyes trailed up from the hand to the culprit. It was none other than Johnny. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” The actor said, his smile that was so bright it nearly rivaled the sun. His hand dropped so he could spread his arms out wide. “Saw the other day that Rai-dude got to have a day with you, it’s my turn now.” He announced, seeming almost a bit too proud of himself. “That, and I did say we had stuff to discuss later.”

“We’re taking turns hanging out?” Kung Lao spoke up, having not left yet. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Johnny Cage. A look of utter confusion was obvious on his face. You were nearly certain that a similar look was upon your face. You were no less confused than he was. “When am I getting my day?”

“We’re not taking turns, don’t worry about it.” You reassured the former farmhand. You looked back at Johnny with an exasperated look. “Don’t say things like that, people will get the wrong idea, Cage.” You scolded him pointing a finger his way. “Why do you even need me to accompany you today?” You inquired. You noticed the slightly irritated tone in your voice and sent him an apologetic look. “Not that I mind.”

“I need someone to help take some pictures of me around Sun Do so I can post it on my socials.” The American informed you causally. Either he didn’t notice the tone in your voice, or didn’t care. You were assuming that with him, it was the latter. A broad grin crossed his features as a more confused look appeared over your face.

“But I wouldn’t anyone else be bet-” You began. You were shortly cut off by Johnny grabbing your hand. With a surprised shout, you were dragged off by Johnny outside of the palace before you could protest more. Too stunned, you let him lead you away, mind still mulling over the strange excuse he had given you.

Left in the dust was Kung Lao who looked at where you two had disappeared to. There was a moment where there was nothing but sheer confusion spread across his face. Then, Kenshi passed by, having returned to the Great hall. He looked at the farm hand with a perplexed look as well. He glanced back and forth between where Kung Lao was looking and the man himself.

“Are you okay?” The swordsman asked, having not been there to witness the little scene.

“Yeah.” Kung Lao said, snapping out of his stupor. He shook his head, trying to dispel the strange hurt feeling he felt before shrugging. “I’m just really, really confused.”

“You didn’t have to drag me out here, Cage.”

“Nah, I totally did have to.” Johnny said simply. The blunt response stunned you for a moment. Normally, you would have a witty remark or be able to bounce back. But with how strange Johnny has been lately, you’ve found yourself more and more uncertain of what to say in response. You didn’t quite like how speechless you’ve become.

“No, you really didn’t have to.” You insisted. Your words fell upon deaf ears as Johnny continued to drag you towards the capital. It wasn’t until you both made it to the city that he finally released your hand. You sighed as you sent him a look before shaking your head. “Well, we’re here.” You stated the obvious, looking around at the crowd. “Where did you need the picture?”

“Oh, we don’t need to do that now.” The actor told you with a grin. You stared at him with a look of disbelief. “In fact we have to wait. I wanted to do these pictures at sunset so we can get those sweet, sweet colors.” You looked upwards into the sky, noting just how early it was. Sunset was hours away. You sighed, you guess you were stuck with the man for a bit. He didn’t seem dismayed at all by your reaction, instead slinging an arm around you and leaning in close. “So, where to first?”

“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said, crossing your arms. “I was really going to go window shopping.” You inform him, trying to think of ideas for the two brothers you hadn’t gotten gifts for yet. So far, you were drawing a blank. Glancing over to Johnny, who seemed to be very pleased with placing almost all his weight upon you, you pursed your lips. “I suppose you don’t have any ideas for what to get Bi-Han and Kuai Liang?”

“The ninjas?” Johnny inquired, eyebrows raising. Before you could correct him that they weren’t quite ninjas he continued, “I dunno, some breath mints for frost face?” He suggested, shrugging. You sent him an exasperated look, but you supposed asking Johnny out of any of them was the wrong decision. He probably didn’t hold either of them in such high regard after what they did to his…Hichuli. He laughed at your reaction, nudging you. “Okay, fine, how about we go window shopping like you said, we’re bound to think of some ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You said, nodding. You stood there, waiting for him to move. When he remained leaning against you, you raised your eyebrows. “Are you expecting me to be able to drag you around everywhere?” You inquired, a tinge of amusement in your voice apparent. A smile spread across your lips. Maybe it was because he was an actor, but he never failed to be entertaining to you.

“Where’s your sense of fun?” He groaned, a hint of a pout on his lips. Still, he relented and got off of you. With an overexaggerated bow that reminded you of certain characters in a movie, he gestured towards the city. “Lead the way?” He inquired, his eyebrows waggling playfully. You rolled your eyes at the grand performance and chuckled before beginning to walk over to the stores.

Even after touring part of Sun Do with Raiden, there were still plenty of shops you had not explored yet. Both you and Johnny peeked into stores, marveling over their wares with different degrees of wonder. There were a few times where you’d hear mutter how he wished that he had an easy way to convert his American dollars to the Outworlder coin.

It took a while until you found a good gift. Or rather, until Johnny found a good gift.

“How about this?” The actor asked. The two of you had ended up in some sort of jewelry store. While you hadn’t been too keen on the wares here fitting the idea of a gift for either of the brothers, you both decided to tour it anyways. Upon seeing the suggestion Johnny lifted towards you, you were infinitely glad that you did.

You grabbed the ribbon he had held up, eyes wide with amazement. It was made of gold and black fabric, perfectly long enough to do someone’s hair. In fact, it seemed meant to be tied into one’s hair to keep it up. The thread work was immaculate. It was woven intricately, creating a pattern that vaguely reminded you of a scorpion.

It was practically perfect.

“Where did you find this?” You asked. You rubbed your thumb over the design before flipping it over and admiring how soft the fabric was. You looked from the ribbon over to Johnny to see what may be the smuggest look you’ve seen on his face. “I mean, this is pretty much what I’ve been looking for.”

“Just over here.” Johnny told you, pointing his thumb in the direction of a display of other ribbons. You wandered over, humming as you perused the rest of the collection. Unfortunately, there was nothing that stuck out to you as something you’d want to give to Bi-Han. Still, as you looked back down at the ribbon in your hands, you were grateful to find something. “You seem really pleased by my findings.” He observed. You could hear the grin through his words. “Do I get to have a reward or something?”

“Or something.” You sassed back, shaking your head. Still, you looked over to the man with a smile. “Thanks for helping me, Johnny.” You thanked him sincerely. The smile he sent made your heart skip a beat, though you weren’t quite sure why. Deciding not lingering on the why part, you turned and went to the counter to pay for the item.

Surprisingly, it was cheaper than you expected. A fact that you were grateful for so you did not completely lose your money on this one gift. The centaurian man who helped you even offered to package it in a pretty gift box for free.

“You’re not trying to find a pretty little trinket for yourself, wildstyle?” Johnny inquired as you rejoined him near the entrance. He sent you an inquisitive look as he crossed his arms. You shook your head as you tucked the box away into your bag for safe keeping. You would be devastated to find that you had lost the perfect gift for Kuai Liang. “You’re a strange one.”

“Really now?” You quipped back, raising your eyebrows as you turned back to look at him. You peered over to the sky, noting how low the sun had gotten. Browsing around had taken far more time than you had expected. It was nearly time for taking pictures soon, assuming that the man still wanted them. “Did you want to go find a spot to take your pictures now? Or did you still want to help me look for Bi-Han’s gift?”

“Still don’t get why you’re buying gifts for the man who broke my Hichuli, but I guess we’ve got some more daylight to burn.” Johnny replied, shrugging.

And so, the two of you continued to browse. Unfortunately, even between the two of you, you still failed to find something appropriate for the icy grandmaster. Luckily for you, you still saw that there were plenty of stalls to go through. Tomorrow, perhaps you’d have better luck.

That’s how you got to the pier, squinting down at Johnny’s phone. You’ve rarely touched his phone. The only times you’ve bothered to interact with it was to play Candy Crush whenever the actor wanted to bribe you to give them a break, or to show Kung Lao the video.

Still, holding it in your hands, something about the device felt oddly…familiar.

“You know how to take a picture, right?” Johnny said, leaning over to point at the screen. You looked over to him, giving him a sigh.

“That’s what I was going to tell you, Cage.” You told him, sending him an exasperated look. You had nearly forgotten about his little excuse to drag you out here. How silly it seemed now. You thought about telling him if he had just asked to accompany you on your little shopping trip that you would have let him, but you figured you were past that point now. “I have no idea how to really take a picture, so your luck with me taking actual quality ones for your social media is pretty low.”

“You’ll probably have a knack for it.” The actor encouraged you. He positioned so he could wrap his arms around you, placing his hands upon yours. While Johnny was usually touchy, this felt…different. You suppressed a shiver as you noted how gentle he was being. “Here, lift it up to this angle.” He instructed, his voice quieter than usual. And yet, when it was right next to your ear you hardly noticed how he was pretty much whispering. Was your face getting hot?

“Good.” Johnny praised, and like usual, you could hear the smile in his voice. The smile your heard though, was a different type of smile. It wasn’t arrogant or smug. It felt like he was proud of you. “You’ll want to tap the screen if it’s out of focus.” He said, and tapped on the screen to demonstrate. You nodded, pursing your lips as you tried your best to focus on the task at hand. Did he really have to be this close though?

“Anything else I should know?” You asked, hoping the way you spoke didn’t reflect the way you were feeling oddly nervous right now. You had no idea why your nerves were acting up, it isn’t as if you were being tested on anything. You did not turn your head, feeling like you would grow more nervous if you turned your head to look at the man.

“Nope, you should be good. I’ll be telling you whenever to take a shot. Oh, taking a picture is this button by the way.” He said, pressing the circle at the bottom of the screen. You nodded diligently, back oddly straight as you tried to focus on anything but him. You had to hide your sigh of relief as he unwrapped his arms, backing up. “Alright, let me get into position.”

You watched as Johnny jogged over to the spot he had apparently determined in his head. You kept your arms up, not wanting to lose the perfect angle that the man had decided for you. Still, the memory of his touch on your hands lingered in your mind. Johnny prepped himself, moving between a few poses before he settled on one and called out for you to take a picture. You grinned at the rather amusing pose he struck. Was he trying to pretend to hold the sun?

Nodding, you moved your thumb to press the button. Accidentally though, you made the screen flip, making it turn to your smiling face. Following that accident, you pressed the button. With a sigh, you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out how to turn it back around. After a few moments, you offered him an apologetic smile as he walked back to you.

“Did you get the shot?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. You shook your head and handed the phone over, sighing.

“I told you I didn’t know how to take pictures.” You sighed, pointing at the screen and how it was still using the forward facing camera. “I accidentally flipped the screen and made it take a picture of me.” You explained, your tone indicating your embarrassment at not knowing how to navigate the device well. You watched as he lifted the phone up, so he could see it better. The only issue now was that you couldn’t see it. “So I didn’t get the picture, sorry.”

“Main man Lord Liu Kang should really get you a phone so you can start learning. Don’t sweat it though, Teach.” Johnny observed, humming as he tapped the screen a few times. His eyes lit up after a few moments. A small smile curled onto his lips. Then, almost as if remembering you were there, he cleared his throat as he looked back to you.

It was rare to see him taken off his guard.

“Here.” He said after a few moments. When the phone was handed back to you, it was correctly oriented this time. “Try not to switch it again, or do, I don’t mind having a few photos of you in my phone.” Johnny teased you, sending you a wink. Before you could retort, he jogged back to the spot. You shook your head, unable to resist a smile.

This time, you took what you thought was a pretty good picture.

By the time you and Johnny returned to the palace, it was dark. You had spent the fading bits of daylight on taking every picture you could. You thought it was excessive, but the actor had told you something along the lines of “we don’t finish until it’s perfect in the industry”. You had tried to tell him that there was no industry here, but he promptly ignored you.

You had half a mind to groan at his stubbornness.

“Busy day?” Raiden inquired, seeing the both of you walk into the hallway. It seems the reserved seats had changed for the both of you. You had a choice of either between Kenshi and Liu Kang or between Raiden and Kung Lao. You slipped into the one next to the champion, humming as you reached over to get your share of food.

“You could call it that.” You replied. You muttered an apology as you bumped into Raiden as you leaned over. He took your apology in stride, smiling generously at you. “I managed to get another gift under my belt. No luck in finding one for Bi-Han though.” You said, sighing. “Then again, I predicted getting a gift for him would be the most difficult.”

“Maybe tomorrow I can help.” Kenshi spoke up. You glanced up at him, a bit of surprise on your face. You nearly missed the look of what you could only call betrayal on Kung Lao’s face. Why that was the case, you had no idea. You felt a little bad, it looked a little funny. You brought a hand to hide the bits of a smile that threatened to slip through. You hummed, tilting your head after you recovered from your near smile. You thought about the offer for a moment before nodding.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You said. As you peered down at the food on the table, you missed the pointed looks the swordsman got. When you looked up, they were gone. “I’ve found that I find the gifts whenever I’m with one of you anyways, might as well not break the streak.” You said contemplatively. “How was the rest of the day for you guys?”

The rest of dinner went smoothly from there. There was chatter here and there, catching up on each other’s day. It wasn’t until dinner was over that you encountered something unexpected. You stood up from your seat, excusing yourself. You had plans to get a bit of alone time before your usual meeting with the princess. Yet, when you turned around you were met with the sight of Rain.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted, blinking owlishly. You offered a small wave, to which the mage returned. “Did you need something from me?” You asked, looking around to see if there was something obvious around to indicate what he wanted.

“Ah, nothing much. I just wanted to talk.” He said, offering you a smile. You returned the smile, a hint of surprise and joy in your eyes. You knew Rain had offered you friendship the other day, but you didn’t actually expect him to want to spend more time together than he did yesterday. “Do you have the time for a little chat?” He inquired, his hands sweeping out to gesture to a hallway.

“Oh, definitely.” You said, nodding perhaps a bit too eagerly. You weren’t sure why, but Rain and you seemed to click quickly. You chalked it up to the shared interest in magic, and how he seemed to admire your drive to get better. “I’ll see you guys around.” You said, waving to the group before you walked off with your new friend.

“Lord Liu Kang, your stare is…intense.” Raiden pointed out quietly after you and your new friend disappeared down the hallway. The Fire God diverted his gaze away from where you had gone to the champion. He cleared his throat, putting on a cordial smile.

“Do not worry about it.” Liu Kang reassured the man. He cast his gaze upon the rest of the group, nodding at them. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I shall see you all tomorrow for Raiden’s next fight.” He then stood and disappeared too, retiring to his chambers.

Even gods like him were not immune to human emotions.

You had talked longer with Rain than expected.

It wasn’t until you saw the man yawn that you realized just how late it had gotten. You felt a twinge of guilt course through you as you quickly realized you had to dismiss yourself. Searching around, you excused yourself, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I really should be going, I struggle with waking up without proper sleep.” You lied. You did feel bad lying to your new friend, but you weren’t certain just how public the information of your meetings with Mileena were. You figured it was best to play it safe and pretend they did not occur. With an understanding nod, the mage smiled.

“I understand.” He said. There was a pause, his lips parting before he shook his head. Your eyebrows raised at the action, but didn’t question it. You didn’t want to be too forward and scare him off. “I hope to talk to you soon. It’s refreshing to talk to someone like you.”

“I feel the same.” You told him, nodding. You watched him walk off, taking slow steps away. Then, as soon as you deemed yourself safe enough not to be caught in a lie, you slunk off in the darkness to the hanging gardens. You nearly transformed to make the job easier, but you figured that was more suspicious, so you stuck to the teachings Madam Bo had taught you.

Reaching the gardens, you let out a sigh. Here you felt safe enough to not sneak around. You looked around, spying for any sign of the princess. You caught a hint of pink, and walked right over. Just as expected, she was waiting on the bench for you.

“Apologies for my late arrival.” You said, not even certain if you were even late. It is not as if you had a clock to judge the time. Even if you did, you weren’t even sure if Outworld ran on the same time system as Earthrealm did. You rushed over to take your spot near her after she indicated towards it with her hand. “I got caught up in conversation.”

“Lucky for you, I just got here.” Mileena remarked. The jesting tone in her voice had you relax, letting out another sigh of relief. Hints of thinly veiled amusement sparkled in her eyes accompanying the little smirk on her lips. “I assume you were giving your champion a rousing speech for tomorrow’s match?” She inquired, an expectant tone in her voice.

“Ah, no actually.” You said. You felt a little silly, realizing that her assumption was something you actually should be doing. You knew Raiden did well off of praise. Not only that, but it didn’t hurt to be a little more encouraging towards the champion. Maybe you should do that tomorrow night, especially since you knew that if he won this one, he would have to fight the princess beside you. “I was talking to the High Mage, Rain.”

“I did not know you two were so…familiar.” The princess said, raising an eyebrow. You heard the curiosity in her tone. You chuckled at her phrasing, shaking your head as you waved your hands dismissively.

“Not at all.” You said, holding back a disbelieving chuckle. “He and I simply got along well during the banquet and became friends of sorts..” You explained. You turned your gaze away from the princess to the sky. “It’s refreshing to hear someone talk about magic with such fasciation and depth.”

“I did not realize you were so intrigued by magic.” Mileena remarked. This time, a hint of surprise appeared in her voice. “Do you possess magic yourself, or are you simply fascinated by the subject?” She inquired. Her gaze scanned your form, trying to see any indication of magic upon your person. Her calculating gaze felt just like her younger sister’s.

“I have magic.” You said. “Magic doesn’t really exist in Earthrealm in the same ways it does here.” You explained. “Very little people know magic themselves, and the ones I know who have such magic don’t have the same passion as the people I’ve met here.” You shrugged causally.

“Perhaps it has something to do with the goddess Delia.” Mileena proposed. “As far as I am concerned, the only god Earthrealm has is Lord Liu Kang, correct?” She inquired. You nodded. You doubted Liu Kang would have hidden another god of Earthrealm from you. “Delia is the goddess of magic, it is natural that Outworld would simply have more magic than Earthrealm.”

“I suppose.” You said, not knowing what to quite respond to that. She was probably correct. You pursed your lips as you pondered on the subject of magic for a few moments more before realizing that Mileena had been staring at you. “Oh, right the story, my bad.” You said, straightening up. You cleared your throat before glancing at the princess. “Any particular stories you’d like to hear about tonight?”

“How about you tell me about Earthrealm’s version of magic?” The princess proposed, connecting the prior conversation to the story she wished to hear. You smiled at the sentiment, thinking of what to tell her before nodding and proceeding.

That night, you told her of magic. And that night, you tried your best to ignore the longing ache in your heart.

part fifteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

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