Your Tumblr is as amazing as your fics - thank you so much for creating both :)
Y’all the best like seriously
this one goes out to @foxesdance because, well, you know
His is not like the tidal wave, but the high tide, ebbing in softly with the darkness. As he walks, his robes trail behind, long and rippling like ocean waves. He is destructive, but he can be a shelter if he needs. His temperament is tempestuous and those around him say he hasn’t changed a day from his wicked childhood.
His yellow eyes refract light in the darkness and his sharp teeth glint through snarls in his anger. He is tall and broad and positively wild, difficult to placate when hampered or disrespected. He barely notices when people call him by his title, call him Emperor. He’s too used to being the prince, locked away in the tower for the safety of others.
He’ll always turn to his name, usually with a snap in his jaw. But not for her. No hissing for her.
He looks up from his desk, datapads and files strewn about, littering every flat available surface. His expression, he knows, is grim, but his mind is abuzz. And from the moment he hears her voice, the gnashing of his mental frustration quiets.
“Yes?” He raises an eyebrow, flinching when she is startled by his tone.
“I was wondering if you’d like me to stay in your chambers tonight? Otherwise I’ll go off to sleep and leave you be.”
She is the product of an arranged marriage. A young woman raised like bantha to sit at his feet and look pretty for the press. But she is kind-hearted despite her conditions and her will is indomitable. Once a presence he hated, he has grown to love her darkly. As much as a monster could love.
He holds his hand out to her, beckons her closer. Poor thing; she’s still frightened of him in some instances. He has moods he cannot control, and he feels shameful when she sees the creatures he can become. Feels guilty that he scares her so.
Standing at his full height, he is a mountain above her, broad and strong. His fingers itch for her satin-smooth skin, and he tucks a curl behind her ear, a taste to whet his want. “Then, darling, I believe I will follow you to bed.”
He follows where she leads, knuckles tickling against hers, trickling like a river. She never likes him to be behind her, doesn’t trust him well enough, so he walks beside, hovering close enough to feel her body heat.
He strips slowly when they enter his bedroom, peels clothes from his body as she crawls into his bed, nesting down in the center. He slides in when he’s down to his undergarments, chases her from the middle with the circle of his arms and the strength of a kiss pressed to her forehead. She sighs in content when she bundles closer to his heart, to her proper place against his chest. She may be wary of him, but she carries some love for him yet.
What a perfect outcome to a supposed misfortune she turned out to be.