#and all he can think to say is “i'm sorry about violet.”

[revenancy]

impossible fires || violet szarozy.

alright so – tw for violence/murder on this one – I've talked about Marley and I've talked about Nile but I haven't really talked much about the weight of the dead girl on their shoulders. so a little about Vi, and mostly about what happened to her:

→ she was just barely eighteen when she died.

→ she was eighteen – her middle brother was ten weeks from twenty-one – their eldest brother was twenty-five and drunk and furious with his sister for skipping her tert training classes in favor of her girlfriend for the last fucking time. (it was always the last fucking time with Jake. Vi and Marley had been in some sort of love for years; they started laughing it off whenever they met down in the empty train corridors outside Lacrymo.)

→ she was eighteen, and Jake had been her father for the last ten years, working seventy-hour weeks in the refinery that killed their parents since he was only fifteen. he was supposed to be the one in tert training; he'd given that up for Violet.

→ and her middle brother, a mnemonist, twenty and soft-spoken and always waiting for the next catastrophe, who pinned clippings from the paper to the living room wall, who slept on the couch so she could have the second bedroom, was more a mother than anything. (he cut her hair when she got industrial glue in it; he gave her space whenever she brought Marley home to the tiny flat over Duke's Penny Grocery. Jake was furious that she always seemed to love Lachlan best.)

→ Violet was deep into teen subcultures, the kind of punk who's pressed underneath the bootheel of the system, working to claw her way up to humanity. but to her brothers she was precious, always: she was sharp, and intelligent, and eager to learn, and she was the baby. to be kept safe. to be cherished.

→ to be killed, apparently.

→ the three people who were in the room when Violet Szarozy died all have different accounts. Jake will say that it was a drunken fugue, the story that got him put on a fourth addiction watchlist, and the panic defense that got him off with eight months' imprisonment and two years' probation. the company sprung him early: they needed him back on the line sooner than that. no one's trying to take a refinery job.

→ Marley will shy away before excusing herself from the details: she was horrified, and hiding in the wardrobe, and she had to keep herself from crying until Jake stalked from the room so he wouldn't find her, too. then she sat on the floor with Vi – with Vi's brother Lachlan, his hands soaked in his sister's blood, and all the wonderment of youth was cut short. no better future allowed for this.

→ the mnemonist's is probably the most accurate to life.

→ but he died thirteen years ago.

→ (pick up. carry on.)

IMPOSSIBLE FIRES taglist; (ask to be added/removed)

@iucemon @rodentwrites @rhikasa

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

You land hard, elbows hitting the ground with a jolt of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the realization that someone is screaming—Blue is screaming. The heat in your veins fizzles, your heart jolting. Ghost has already sped off toward camp, pulling a knife from his ankle, and you scramble to your feet to follow.

Your movements are clumsy, your mind replaying the last few seconds, searching for any signs of trouble you might have missed. The air is clear, the trees are quiet, the ground is still. Yet, as you weave through the tall grasses that swipe at your ankles, you finally hear it—muffled voices, unmistakably human. They grow sharper with each step you take. 

Ghost reaches camp first, stopping in a lethal stance. You roll in just behind him, eyes snapping to where Blue stands behind the fence, alive and aiming one of her dad’s rifles at four strangers. Still dressed in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the rifle through a gap in the fortification. Two of the strangers are mounted on a brown horse, while the other two flank their sides, backs swollen with rucksacks and chests thick with gear. There is no doubt they have weapons.

"D-don't come any closer or I'll blow your heads off! I mean it!"

“We’re not here to hurt you,” one of them says calmly. A man.

“I don’t care why you’re here! You need to leave before my dad…” Her eyes flicker to you. “Dad!”

When their heads turn in your direction, you waste no time arching the knife over your head. You’re not much without your bow, but this is all you have.

In a split second, your eyes land on the burliest of the group, a man with a boonie hat and a dense, brown beard. He was the one speaking. The leader, maybe. You aim the knife for his head, but before you can throw it, Ghost grabs your wrist, wrenching you to his chest without warning, the knife falling to the ground.

"Wait," he says in your ear, his breath steady against your skin. There’s a detectable lilt of surprise in his voice. You try to squirm free, but he holds tight. "Stay here."

He lets go. Confusion reels through you. Everything in you screams to pick up the knife, but you hesitate as Ghost signals for Blue to lower the gun.

He calmly walks over to the intruders, heading to the man you were aiming for. The air feels thick as you watch with parted lips, stance still readied and breath racing. Ghost stops in front of him, and the two stare at each other strangely before the man smiles.

A strong hand reaches for Ghost’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Simon.”

The clanking of metal against ceramic plates and the low murmurs of a fire fill the cabin.

Your spine presses into the wall.

There isn’t a free chair at the table, but you’re not sure you’d sit in one even if there was. Blue stands beside you, hands laced in front of her. She’s silent. You are, too. The cabin feels cramped with seven people in it. It makes your skin itch. 

You can inspect them more thoroughly now that you’re not thinking about who to kill first. 

There are two men—the older one you believe Ghost called Price, and a younger one you think he called Kyle. He’s fine-looking, you figure, underneath the overgrowth of facial hair and grime smudged on his dark skin. He had a tan cap on earlier but now a head of short, black hair is free for him to slick fingers through every now and then. Then there is a woman, some years older than you. She’s beautiful in a raw, Grecian sort of way, with long black hair and a violet undertone to her skin. Lastly, a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen. It doesn't take much to discern he is related to Kyle in some way.

They all look starving, though not as much as you once were. Nevertheless, Ghost is feeding them more than scraps. Canned beans, rice, and rabbit. They shovel it into their mouths. The men have muscles on them, so they can’t have been struggling much. Based on all the supplies they carry and the horse tied to a tree outside, you’ve figured they’ve been traveling for some time. A flurry of questions runs through your brain, but your lips remain in a tight line.

Ghost hasn’t said much yet. He hasn't even explained who they are. Your slitted eyes flicker to him. While the strangers fill up the table, he hovers beside it. His body speaks more than his expression. His shoulders are not tense and lethal as they'd been when you first sat at that table scarfing down food. But they're not relaxed, either; his arms crossed, still exposed from the black tee he'd put on for training, giving way to the slight flexes in his corded muscles that signal even he is thrown off by their presence. 

But he trusts them enough to let them in here. With the way they carry themselves, and the fact that Ghost hasn't killed them, they must've been in the military together. He doesn't seem like the type to have had normal friends. 

Kyle speaks first.

He thrums the pads of his fingertips against the wood and clears his throat, breaking your thoughts. "We were hoping you'd still be here, but it was a shot in the dark."

"I’ve never left," Ghost says, plainly.

Kyle sips from his mug and wipes his mouth, then his eyes shift toward you. You meet his gaze with a hardened look. 

"We're sorry for scaring you."

It takes a moment to realize his words aren't for you. Blue glances to her toes. "I wasn't scared." 

His lips lift. "Of course not. It's us who should've been scared of crossing paths with Simon Riley's kid. You did the right thing, you know. Protecting yourself."

"I didn't realize you knew my dad." She nibbles her lip and looks up. "My name is Blue, by the way. And this is..." Her eyes flick to you. "My friend, Twix."

Your tongue pokes your cheek as you look over the new faces. What are you supposed to say? 

"Hi," is all you settle on.

Ghost clears his throat. "Kid, why don't you clean some more water for them."

Blue nods dutifully, lingering only a second before pouring more river water into the pot over the fire.

"Thank you for your kindness. We haven't had a warm meal like this in days," the woman says kindly.

"It's a strong setup you've made for yourself," Price speaks, one hand stroking his beard while he pushes the cleared plate away with the other. He leans back, boonie hat still cradling his head and casting a shadow over his eyes, but you catch a glimpse of warm brown irises that might've comforted you in any other circumstance.

"It's lasted me this long." Ghost shifts his weight slightly. "Where are you coming from?"

"Near the base by the border, further north."

"Last I heard you were in Manchester."

"Once the radios went out, we picked up my wife," he touches the woman's shoulder, "Nereida, and Kyle's nephew here, Ari, from Newcastle. Made camp with a few others. Served us well for the past five years."

Ghost slowly nods and then drawls, "And Soap?”

Price leans his forearms on the table. "Not quite sure. The base was falling apart, but he stayed back, saying he'd meet up with us once he could. That was five years ago."

You're not sure who Soap is, someone else they worked with, maybe. There is a brief pause before Ghost asks, "Why did you leave?"

"More and more of 'em, Simon," Price replies with a slight shake of his head, emitting a low breath. "Made it difficult to even get food."

"Too many of them, not enough of us," Nereida murmurs distantly. Her hand slips under the table, out of view. You imagine it resting on Price's thigh as she leans into him with a weighted sigh. "They always seem to be moving. Not with a destination in mind, of course, but it was only a matter of time before they ruined our setup. We decided to leave before that could happen."

Kyles adds, "It wasn't an easy decision, but living in anticipation of the worst isn't really living at all."

Your brows lower. “Where exactly could you be headed that wouldn't mean living in anticipation of the worst?” you can't stop yourself from asking, the question burning in your mind. 

Price leans back, those warm brown eyes finding yours. A short heartbeat passes before he answers simply, "Switzerland."

The absurdity of that single word response forces a disbelieving, chuffed breath through your nose. Of all the things this stranger could have said, that would have to be the least expected. You anticipate an equally surprised reaction from Ghost, but he seems unnervingly unfazed. Blue, however, swivels her head from where she sits cross-legged in front of the fire.

"What the fuck is Switzerland?"

"It's another country," the boy—Ari—answers.

Blue glances between him and her dad. "Like... not in England?"

Ari snorts softly. "No, not in England. It's across the channel."

"The channel?" Blue frowns. "That's... far, isn't it?"

"Very far," Nereida confirms with a nod.

The subject is brusquely dropped when Ghost reaches for their cleared plates. "You must want to bathe while you're here. There's a river nearby."

Price clears his throat. "These two can go first." He gestures to the woman and child.

Soon enough, you become irritatingly aware of what's happening; you're being shooed away, along with the kids and Nereida, so the three of them can speak privately. There isn't much room to object as you shuffle out of the cabin, carrying a handful of rags for them to wash with along with the homemade soap that you once used to wash away the grime and earth that caked up from traveling. 

The sun beats hard, the river warmer now that spring has aged. Dried sweat clings to your spine from this morning, but bathing yourself is the last thing on your mind now, not when you're still reeling in the presence of people you don't know. You swing a glance at the cabin behind your shoulder, something in your gut twisting. Ghost doesn't want you there to hear whatever they're talking about. 

"This is a good spot," Blue says, stopping in front of a shallow part of the bank where the water is warmest. She hands Ari some soap and teeters on her toes. You realize why she keeps staring at him like that; he's probably the only other kid she's met in years. She is even more shy than when she first met you. "Twix and I will look away, don't worry."

You and Blue sit perched on a rock as they wash themselves. 

"This is weird," she admits quietly to you.

"Very," you mumble.

When they're done, you offer Nereida the only clean clothes you have at the moment: one of the oversized shirts Ghost gave you and some jeans. An annoyingly strange thought brandishes your brain... you don't like the way the black fabric sits on her bare chest, nipples poking through, and the hem hanging down to her knees as it does on you. You should've just given her the dirty blouse to wear.

She sits at the edge of the river, wringing her soaked hair with a rag. From the corner of your eye, you catch Blue helping Ari rinse his dirty clothes in the water. You want to keep an eye on him; your knife is still nestled around your ankle in case they try anything, though a woman and preteen don't heighten your paranoia as much. 

"How long have you two been together?"

Her soft voice makes you blink. "What?"

"You and Simon."

You're confused until you recall the revelation from earlier—the man you've known the past few months as Ghost, the one whose hard form laid beneath you just hours ago, is actually Simon. Simon Riley. You're tempted to say the name; try it out. But it is hard to reconcile with. It might taste strange on your tongue. The name fits a version of him that doesn't exist in this world now, you suppose. British. Simple. Like John or Kyle. The name of a lieutenant. The bits of his face you've witnessed crosses your mind; his nose, lips, and chin seem like Simon. The damn mask is Ghost, though.

"Jesus... I am not—" You shake your head, the sun even hotter on your neck. "I'm not with him like that. We're just allies." You glance back at the cabin in the distance and you fight a scowl. "If that."

She runs her fingers through ravenous tendrils. "Oh. I apologize for assuming."

You offer a small smile. "It's fine."

"How long have you been staying here then?"

"Um, a few months now. I used to stay with my sister and a friend, but they died."

Her eyes soften. "I'm sorry for your loss."

You shrug. "Everyone has lost important people."

"Doesn't make it easier," she says. "Ari's mom and younger sister used to be with us," she adds quietly with a solemn downward cast of her eyes, as if a memory has taken her for a moment. "They passed two years ago during a really rough winter along with this other couple we knew. Then it was just the four of us."

You inhale through your nose and release, frowning. "No child should have to experience that."

"No," she agrees, nodding. "They shouldn't. Which is why we're looking for a better life for him."

"And you think you'll find it in... Switzerland."

Nereida offers a half-smile, as if reading your thoughts. "We'd heard of a commune there, up in the mountains."

"A commune? Like what, a town?" 

"Sort of. Just... more people, living together. Protected. Greys make awful climbers, and the mountains there are much higher than anything in the UK."

This catches your attention, and the divot between your brows deepens. "How do you know it exists?"

"Well, we can't know for certain. John heard about it at the beginning of the spread, but it was too difficult to make arrangements at the time, especially when he had to help out at the medical site and then come find me. Things were a mess, I'm sure you remember."

"Yeah, I do." You reel in her words, thinking. "That was... years ago, though. Aren't you taking a huge risk going there now? What if nothing is there?"

"Staying in England would be a risk, too," she counters. "There is nothing here except death and hardship. You can't hide from it forever."

You look down at the water. Cicadas fill your ears, the buzzing drowning out your voice. "No, you can't."

You go on a hunt that afternoon, itching for some space to breathe. Deer tracks are harder to spot without the snow, but you find the unmistakeable marks of antlers against a tree and follow them. You glance around the forest. It feels endless and like a cage at the same time. Which way did they come from? If they made it to camp by morning, that means they spent the night here somewhere. You don't like the idea that others could be so close by, like that car.

The sun has turned orange by the time a healthy doe skirts in your peripherals. You stalk it behind an oak. An arrow flies from your bow, but you miss; the deer flees. You return in the dark empty-handed. No doubt, the visitors are fatigued, with Ghost already setting blankets across the cabin's floor for them to sleep on. You offer Ari the couch, figuring an exhausted kid needs it more than you do. He knocks out the moment he lays down.

"Here. For the night." Ghost offers you a heavy blanket and nods to the only bare spot of floor left after they've all settled down. 

You avoid his eyes and accept it. The moment he's disappeared to his room, you slip outside under the starlit night, finding the flattest patch of ground to lay the blanket down, which happens to be only a few paces away from a sleeping horse. It's not the couch, but it'll do for a night or two, and you refuse to sleep in the shed again. 

You're in the midst of standing back up after straightening out your makeshift bed when you bump into something solid. A hand grips your bicep and whirls you around, a pair of darkened eyes glowering down at you.

"What are you doing?" you breathe up at him. "I don't like when you grab me like that."

"What are you doing?" he retorts, voice low and hard.

"Trying to get some sleep."

"Out here?"

You look away and shimmy out of his hold. "Does it matter where I sleep?"

"It's not safe out here."

"You had no problem sending me out here before."

"You have since earned your keep," he mutters, as if annoyed you're even mentioning the past. 

"My spot is taken for the night by your lovely friends, so for however long you plan to let them stay, I will sleep out here."

"There is a spot on the floor for you inside."

"I'm not sleeping in there." With them. 

The whites of his eyes flash as he darts his gaze over your face. His tone softens perceptibly. A mere breath. "They won't hurt you, Twix."

You roll your eyes away from him. "I would just rather sleep out here by myself, okay? I prefer solitude at my most vulnerable. And it's not like my experiences with militant men have been pleasant so far." You keep your tone neutral, but a chill touches your spine at the memory.

Ghost emits a low huff. He suddenly rips the blanket from the ground and turns his back to you. "What are you doing?" you gape at him.

"You'll take my bed," he throws over his shoulder.

[utterlyazriel]

let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

FORGED UNDER FIRE

THE UNPLEASANTRIES OF A SURPRISE

blurb: the sorrengail siblings reunite...what starts as a joyous surprise turns into an unpleasant moment as the realization of what brennan did sinks in

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: nothing crazy, some violence and cursing, iron flame spoilers

a/n: hello, hello! sorry it took me a couple weeks to update, i've been studying for an exam and i was also catching up with some of my other writing. i had a long fic to update and a marcus acacius oneshot to write for a challenge but that is done!

i'm back and i hope you enjoy this part of forged under fire. it's not that long but it captures the essence of what needs to be said. you can now find a more detailed masterlist of this series on my main masterlist under fourth wing!

enjoy and let me know what you think at the end!

At the mention of a riot, Brennan sprung into action, calling out orders to the cadets under his care and the guards under his command. He knew the time would come when the Navarrians would find them, but he didn't expect it to be so soon.

Brennan curses when Violet speeds past him, running towards the courtyard and calling her dragon. He wishes to follow, but he has a protocol and orders to give. If it were up to him, he'd be following her and calling Marbh to meet him in the courtyard ready to battle.

"It is not a riot. More are coming to join us, forty of them. Teine leads them," Marbh tells him through his link.

"Mira?" Brennan whispers, the corner of his lips turning into a smile. The arrival of his sister is a welcomed surprise.

With a string of new orders and the reassurance they won't go into battle any time soon, he follows after Violet. He's excited to see Mira, his younger sister who he shared a childhood with. At one point, she was his best friend.

The two bickered more than acceptable, but it was part of their dynamic. At the end of the day, Mira and Brennan were each other's biggest supporters.

Brennan smiles when he steps outside, spotting his sisters together. He hurries down the steps, eager to join them and have a proper family reunion.

Teine has put a considerable amount between him and Tairn, considering the bigger dragon had his jaw around his neck not long ago.

Mira falters at the sight of Brennan. Her face pales as her brother, who was supposed to be dead, gets closer. The image of him is clearer and clearer. The sleep deprivation must be getting to her because it simply can't be him.

"Hey, Mira," he says as he approaches, preparing to give Mira the biggest hug.

His voice just about confirms his status as alive and breathing. Her older brother is alive. Her partner in crime.

Deep inside, she's elated that he's alive, that she didn't lose him, but there are layers of anger and resentment to sort through. He's alive, but at what cost?

Memories of her grieving and burning his belongings flash through her mind. Her mother's distance, her father's death, her sister-in-law's suffering, and her nephew growing up without a father figure. They all dealt with his death while he was hiding.

Without much thought, she allows that anger to flow straight through her as she lifts her fist and swings. A satisfying crunch and blood pouring from Brennan's nose lets her know she hit true. It's not the first time she's broken his nose, and it certainly won't be the last.

Violet guides them inside in a flurry, shooting orders left and right. Brennan clutches his nose with a handkerchief as blood pours down his face while Mira glares at him and everyone who tries to touch her.

Once they are alone, an argument ensues between the three siblings. Different questions arise about Brennan faking his death, the rebellion Violet is seemingly leading and their status as family. Violet may have forgiven Brennan, but his betrayal is too fresh for Mira.

It is chaotic and messy, but it describes the Sorrengails perfectly.

Xaden joins them in the office, watching amusedly at how they argue. Perhaps it's for the best he doesn't have siblings. The resemblance between them can be seen perfectly in how their mannerisms overlap and mimic each other.

The room turns quiet at Violet's order. The siblings all stare at each other. Mira ignores the fact that Violet has more guts than she used to. They've changed so much over the years, yet they are the same.

"How is she?" Brennan breaks the silence to ask about his wife. The last time Violet was here, he didn't get the chance. They were in and out in a hurry.

Not a day goes by when he doesn't think about you. Leaving you is his biggest regret. Your relationship was a pillar that kept him strong for so long. You often discredited yourself by thinking you needed him more than he needed you. You were wrong. Brennan needed you just as much.

The moment his signet manifested he stopped being Brennan. All they saw were his healing abilities and how they could use him in their battles. He loves his signet, but it felt dehumanizing when all they saw was a tool.

Except you always saw him as Brennan. You never asked to be healed by him. You’d rather bandage your injuries and deal with the pain. He never let you. If there’s anyone he’ll heal without protest, it’ll be his family.

"Who?" Mira asks, crossing her arms and raising a judgemental eyebrow at him. She knows exactly who he's asking about.

Brennan rolls his eyes, "My wife. How is she?" He asks directly at Violet this time. Reasoning with Mira will be impossible when she's in a mood.

Violet's expression softens, but before she can answer, Mira interjects, "Your wife? You don't have a wife, do you, Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh? Brennan Sorrengail had a wife, but he's dead."

Mira sneers at Brennan her anger eating at her fervently. She doesn't understand how Violet forgave him so easily. Doesn't she realize the gravity of what their brother has done?

"Mira, come on! Enough of this." Brennan pleads, driving his hand through his hair. A sign he's stressed out by the situation.

There were so many times he wanted to reach out to his family. To tell them he was alive and well and that he missed them. It was not realistic when telling them would've endangered them further.

Navarre doesn't want its citizens to know about the venin and what's going on outside the borders. Telling them could've led them to be charged with treason. That is, if Lilith Sorrengail admitted to the information she kept secret.

"You really want to know? Fine, she's dead, Brennan!" Mira exclaims, giving her back to him.

"What?" Brennan pales and falls back on his seat, burying his head in his palms. It can't be. You can't be dead. His heart pounds in his chest at Mira's words, the world spinning around him. The one thing he always counted on was you outliving him by staying safe within Navarre's wards.

"Dead to you! You lost the right to know when you faked your death," Mira says, spinning back around to stare accusingly at him. Maybe that will give him some idea of how they felt when he faked his death.

Violet and Xaden stare at the pair with wide eyes. That was cruel even for Mira.

"Fucks sake, if you think leaving her, leaving any of you, was easy, then you're wrong. I know you're upset, but I had to do this. I couldn't ignore the threats outside of Navarre. Threats our parents were hiding," Brennan shouts back, his chair tumbling to the ground as he stands.

His face matches Mira's as they glare at each other and share the same flushed complexion. It reminds Violet of the good old days when they'd argue about the smallest things.

"You didn't stop to think about me or Violet? You were my brother Brennan, my best friend!" Mira yells, pointing at him accusingly, "And then you try to hug me like everything is okay? This is all levels of fucked up."

Brennan sighs in defeat. "I really am sorry."

Mira looks down and says, "You didn't just leave us. You made us believe you were dead and that we'd never see you again. We mourned you: Dad, Mom, Violet, your wife, and the worst part of it all is--"

She almost told Brennan about his son but couldn't tell him. Mira can't bring herself to tell him about the best thing that happened to their family since he 'died.' It's not her call, and it's not like he deserves to know, either. He gave up that right when he chose to fake his death.

Brennan waits for her to finish her sentence, expecting a string of words to pour more salt into the wound.

"You don't really realize everything you've given up," Mira says ominously, standing across from her brother, no longer pointing fingers or looking to argue. Mira is tired. It's been a long day.

"Will you hate me forever?" Brennan asks her.

Mira smiles sadly, "I don't hate you, Brennan. I love you, but this hurt more than you can imagine."

Brennan opens his mouth to apologize once more, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

"Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh, a word?" One of the Aretian soldiers asks. Brennan nods, telling him to wait outside.

"I hope you know I really am sorry. I hope we can work through this because I missed my best friend." With that, he steps outside the room, Xaden following him.

Brennan is sorry, but he doesn't regret it. It was a sacrifice he had to make. He's hopeful Mira will come around and understand his intentions were good.

"You didn't tell him," Violet speaks softly, glancing at the closed door.

"Neither did you," Mira rolls her eyes, leaning back against a desk, "Not like it matters, he'll find out very soon."

"What do you mean?" Violet asks instantly.

"Because she's coming here," Mira says, playing with a paperweight, "Mom convinced her it's for the best, but she had to go get Benny before coming."

Lilith Sorrengail gave the riders a choice. They could stay in Navarre or join the rebellion. You chose to stay with her, not because you believed in Navarre but because you owed Lilith a lot. She deserved to have someone in her corner. So, it came as a surprise when she insisted on you joining Mira.

"How do you think he'll take it?"

"I'm not worried about Brennan. I'm worried she'll lose her shit and make Calliss eat Brennan," Mira responds with a smile at the imagery she's made up in her head.

"He'd deserve it," Violet laughs, knowing Calliss won't eat Brennan. "On the bright side, I'm excited to see the little bugger."

Little Bennett and Violet share a close relationship. Violet looked after him constantly, and Benny became attached to his aunt. She missed him most when she left for Basgiath.

"You can't be his favorite forever," Mira chimes, determined to take the title from her sister.

Violet laughs, and Mira joins her. It's crazy to think their family will be together soon. That is, if you don't murder Brennan first.

oop were getting closer to readers reunion with brennan! ain't that exciting! for the next one i think i'm bringing it back to when brennan and reader were in basgiath. i want to talk a bit about her signet so yes!

let me know in the comments or in my asks if there's a specific bit between them you'd like to see! i don't know if this is dragging for you guys, i personally love it but if you'd like me to just write them meeting up then let me know too.

tag list (if you'd like to added to future parts let me know!) : @berry-marys @cherubinn7 @ladynyx91 @kylaisra @detectivehailey @liahaslosthermind @thebreadisthetruevillian @bbkissme99 @honethatty12 @sunny1616 @akshstudios @yadirrez @xoxomoonlightbabe @jaynawayna @littlepippilongstocking @itsmytimetoodream @honethatty12 @poseidont @lveegsoi @cheappremingerfromdelululand @tattee-18 @bxm-2121 @hannahjsworld @holb32 @hannah-schooler

[madebycloud]

Make it Special

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi's birthdays are usually quiet, but this year? the whole family is doing their best to make it special. (requested by twinklestarslight) warnings/themes: fluff, birthdays, found family, modern au words: 3.6k notes: THIS IS SO LATE IM SO SORRY BUT BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THIS WOMAN!!

Vi's birthday was, like most of her other birthdays, uneventful. Vi tended to keep to herself. The day usually passed with more than a quiet “happy birthday” on everyone's lips. However, this year will be different. This year, Vi will find out just how loved she was and just how much she meant to the people she cared about.

“There's streamers in the cabinet, if you could help me hang those up,” Vander says, giving you a nod as you go to grab a chair to reach the ceiling. From there, you make yourself busy decorating—streamers along the walls, lanterns to dim the lights a bit.

“You think she'll like it?” Silco asks, leaning on the counter. He has a cigarette in his hand, but he's doing his best to keep the smoke away from everyone else. “Think she'll be mad?”

“I don't think she'll be mad,” you say, “she'll probably be shocked or confused, but not mad.”

Benzo is setting up the tables around the bar, taking chairs from the barstools and setting them around. He's been helping with decorations since Vander asked him, and he's been trying his hardest to keep the place neat. He even got a box of party hats, hoping to find a way to talk everyone into wearing one.

Claggor and Mylo are messing around with the music, trying to find a station that plays punk rock or heavy metal, which they know Vi likes. The first song that plays when they finally get the right station is punk rock, and the two look at each other, a smirk spreading on their faces.

Ekko is bringing down plates of food from the kitchen. There's cake, which Powder bakes earlier, sandwiches, cupcakes, and various snacks. Anything that can possibly satisfy any of Vi's cravings.

Sevika is at her usual spot by the bar. She's not doing much decorating wise, but she's there, and she's helping with the more heavy things like the tables and chairs.

Benzo nudges you when he's all set up, motioning over to the box of party hats. He's already put his own on. It's black and pink, with hearts on the sides. “You think I could get Vi to wear one?” he asks with a chuckle. “Or y'think she'd try to knock it offa my head?”

“I'll try to convince,” you say, putting down the streamers you just hung. “Maybe if we all wear one, it'll seem more welcoming.”

“Maybe she'll say yes,” Ekko says, passing by and stealing a chip off the plate on the table. “Not a guaranteed one, probably a ten percent chance.”

“But,” Claggor starts, walking to help Ekko with the food. “It is a small chance, so you might be able to get her with it,” he says. “She's a sucker for you.”

—

You still need to get Vi's birthday gift, which, admittedly, should've been done a lot earlier, but decorating the bar had come together so fast, you barely had enough time to think, let alone pick out something for Vi.

Now, you stand outside the animal shelter, shifting nervously as you look up at the sign. Vi has been thinking about getting a dog for a while now, and you know this shelter is one of her favorite places to visit, even though she has never gotten a dog of her own. Maybe it's time to change that.

You push the door open. The shelter is mostly empty at this hour, and you make your way towards the front.

The lady at the desk greets you with a smile. She's an older woman, and she's wearing a jacket with various cat hairs on it. “How can I help you?” 

“I'm looking to adopt a dog, actually.”

“Oh, how nice,” the lady smiles, setting the paperwork she was working on aside and giving you her attention. “We have a lot of dogs available for adoption. Any breed you're looking for in particular?”

“Do you have any huskies for adoption right now?” You look around the shelter, trying to look for any cages that might have a dog inside.

The lady nods. “We do have a few, actually. Would you like to see them?” she asks, standing from her chair.

“I would, yes.”

She leads you down a hall that's lined with cages. Different breeds of dogs of different sizes and coat colors are barking and yelping when you walk by, trying to get your attention. if only you could adopt all of them. Impossible. But still, if you could, you would.

The lady leads you down another hallway after the first, and you stop in front of a cage. Two huskies. They're curled up together and asleep, but they lift their heads when they notice the two of you stop in front of them.

One of the huskies perks up, getting to its feet and moving closer, wagging its tail as it looks up at you with wide eyes. The other follows suit, looking up at you through squinted eyes, as if it has been woken up from a deep sleep.

“They're siblings,” the lady notes, crouching down to pet the closer of the two, smiling as it nudges her hand, tongue lolling out of its mouth. “They're still only pups, about one month old,” she continues. “A young couple dropped them off a week ago. They couldn't keep them. They didn't have the time for them anymore.”

It sucks, people giving up on animals like this. Huskies need a lot of care, a lot of attention, and a lot of time spent training. They're not dogs made to be stuck inside or alone for the whole day. You know most of the people who gave up huskies—or any dog for that matter—did it because they didn't know what they were doing. They couldn't take care of the dog, and they had to give them up. It's hard, for you and for the animal.

The lady continues to pet the puppy in front of you. “Are you thinking about adopting one of them?” she asks, looking up at you.

“They're siblings,” you repeat, looking down at the two dogs. They're still focused on you, wide eyes looking at you. And, god, that look. You can't leave just one, they'll miss each other, they're siblings. “I'll take both of them.”

“Oh.” It takes the lady a second to process that, but then she smiles, standing up to her full height again. “That's… nice of you to take siblings. Not many people want to take siblings,” she says, walking over to the cage door. “I'll get you the paperwork, it's in the back. Make yourself comfortable, they don't bite.”

She leaves you to the cage with the dogs, who seem to have gotten even more excited, their paws scraping against the cage as they stand on their hind legs, putting their front paws on the edge. They're both panting, their tongues lolling in the same way as their tails wag back and forth, hitting the side of the cage. The lady comes back quickly and pulls out a clipboard, setting it on a table outside the cage door.

The lady goes through a bit of paperwork with you, questions regarding whether or not you're able to actually take care of the dogs if you have the time and the money to take care of them. That sort of thing. 

She talks to you a bit, gives you advice on how to take care of them, and then she gives you a crate, one for each of the dogs (but of course, you'll keep them in one crate, no reason to keep them separated), and now, with the crate in your hands and the dogs inside it, you're on your way back to Vander's bar.

You push the door of the bar open, hearing the quiet footsteps of everyone inside, the sound of the music turned off and silence having replaced it. You can hear Vander shushing everyone, and-

“HAPPY BIRTH-” the light snaps on suddenly, and they pause, looking you up and down with confusion... and the crate on your arms. 

“...day?” Mylo continues, awkwardly.

Vander shakes his head. “So, it's not Vi,” he starts, walking closer to the crate. “What's in there?”

“It's for Vi,” you reply, holding the crate closer to your chest. “She's not here yet?”

“Nah,” Ekko answers. “She's still hanging out with Powder. We thought it's Vi when you entered though.”

—

Everyone has their own party hats. The last thing to be done is hide the gifts, and everyone does. Vander puts the presents in the back room. Everyone scrambles for their spots. Mylo, Claggor, and Ekko hide out near the table, while Silco, Sevika, and Benzo are next to Vander behind the counter.

You hear the door creak open, the sound of footsteps entering the bar.

“Thanks powder—oh god, it's dark.”

There's just a moment when everything is silent, the bar silent, and then the light snaps on—all the party supplies go off as everyone around the room yells, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Vander leads the chorus, with everyone jumping from their spots, some popping the confetti poppers they had, others just yelling the words.

Powder walks to the table, picking up the cake she made. Bright pink frosting and a plethora of multicolored icing dots decorate the cake. Everyone around screams and rushes towards Vi, pulling her in the middle to join them.

You grab another one of the party hats off the table, setting it atop Vi's head, your own hat still perfectly secure on your own. “Happy birthday,” you mutter, pecking a kiss on her cheek. She looks up at you with a smile that makes you melt. The others let out an OOOO sound, clearly trying to embarrass her.

Vi flushes, looking back and forth at everyone. She punches the nearest person (Mylo), telling them to “shut up.”

Vander walks up to her, pulling her into a hug and a pat on the back.

“Happy birthday,” Silco hums, giving her a nod, smirk sitting on his lips.

Everyone else joins in, pulling her into one large group hug, wishing her a happy birthday, and making remarks to tease her. Mylo is getting another punch to the arm.

Powder walks over, carefully making her way through everyone to stand in front of Vi, holding the cake in front of her with a grin. “Make a wish.”

Everyone else backs up some, giving her space to think of one. Vi looks around the room, looking each person in the room in the eyes, everyone who showed up for her, her family before her eyes land on you. When she turns back to the cake again, a smile tugs at her lips, and she blows out her candles.

The group cheers, and everyone smiles. Mylo and Claggor are both nudging each other and whispering to each other, grinning widely. Even Vander's eyes are a bit misty, but he blinks it away before Vi can notice, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“The cake better be good,” Mylo mutters, rubbing his hands together, wanting a piece of cake. 

“Obviously,” Powder tells him, giving Mylo a dirty look. “I made it, the cake will be fine.” Powder sets the cake on the table, pushing it out of reach from Mylo, who tries to get a piece right then and there only to get his hand swatted at by Powder.

“Behave,” Silco scolds him. “It's her birthday, not yours.”

Mylo groans. Vander pulls out the cake knife, looking at Vi. “It's your birthday, you get to cut the cake first.”

Vi takes the knife from him, walking forward and staring at the cake. It's a pretty big cake, enough to feed everyone. 

Mylo stands behind her with his mouth practically watering, looking over her shoulder and trying to get a good look at the cake itself, ignoring everyone's protests and telling him to stop breathing down her neck. Everyone crowds behind Vi as she starts cutting the cake, with Mylo making a comment about wanting bigger pieces than everyone else, which he gets a quick shove and a scolding from everyone.

Eventually, after a bit of bickering, the cake is cut up and everyone gets their piece, save for Mylo, who only gets a small slice. “And you get what you asked for,” Vander says, smirking at his pouting face.

Everyone starts eating their piece of cake, complimenting Powder on how it turned out. It's delicious, of course, and the first slice is always the best. Vi sits beside you as she eats, and she nudges you with her shoulder. When you look at her, there's a forkful of cake up to your lips. “Say ahh,” she teases. You can hear Mylo fake gagging.

“I already have,” you hold up your plate as well as the fork still filled with cake.

“Still,” she says. “Pretty please?” she presses, pushing the fork closer to your lips. You can hear Mylo fake gag again, Powder telling him to shut up.

You open your mouth and let her feed you the cake. She waits until you swallow it before setting the fork aside, and she watches to make sure you like it as you chew.

“Ahhhh,” Mylo mocks. Powder kicks his shin, causing Mylo to yelp.

“It's good,” you hum, earning a smile from Vi.

The conversation continues around you, and while everyone else talks and eats, Vi pulls you closer to her, putting an arm around you and resting her head on your shoulder while listening to everyone, her thumb rubbing against your side.

Mylo and Claggor are now bickering, and you can never really tell over what, so you don't question it. It's not your business either way, and you don't care all too much. Silco is watching the two bicker, rubbing his temple, and Benzo is eating his cake, nodding along. Sevika is watching Mylo and Claggor fight, a smirk on her lips.

Vi absentmindedly traces her finger on your forearm, the cake in her other hand long forgotten. 

Everyone continues to eat, and the cake gets half eaten until everyone is satisfied and full. Mylo is complaining that he should've gotten more cake, Powder tells him again to shut up because it wasn't his cake to begin with, and Vander is trying his hardest to keep the peace.

Vi pulls away from you as Silco clears his throat, gathering everyone's attention. “Alright,” he starts. “Who wants to give something to Vi first?”

Everyone looks around at each other, as if trying to figure out who should go first. Claggor nudges Mylo into motion, and the two start to banter while Vander walks over to Vi with a box, setting it on the table in front of her.

Vi looks at the box, eyes trailing over the wrapping paper, and then backs up at Vander before taking the box delicately from the table. She takes the time to slowly unwrap it, not tearing into it too quickly, instead slowly taking the wrapping paper off one corner at a time.

Once she gets the paper off, she starts opening up the box, taking the lid off, and looking inside at the contents inside of it. It's a framed picture of the two of you. The picture is of a Christmas party with everyone at the Last Drop. All grouped up in the picture, surrounding her with smiles, and Vi has her arm wrapped around you, smiling as well.

“Oh,” she starts, trailing her finger down the glass, pausing to tap on your face in the photo. “This is amazing.” 

“There's more,” Vander says, “look at the back.”

In the back of the frame, Vi finds a picture. She pauses when she sees herself, Powder, and her parents. Her eyes linger, fingers stroking the picture. She's so much younger, so much smaller. They are smiling so wide as if they didn't know how things would change soon.

Powder sits down beside her. She rests her head on Vi's shoulder, watching her look at the photo, and she reaches out to take Vi's free hand, squeezing it in support.

Vi's eyes are glossy as she looks up, a faint smile on her face. “Thank you,” she mumbles, looking back down at the photo in her hand and at the faces of her parents. “This really means a lot.”

Vander nods, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I know you miss them,” he murmurs, low enough that it's just the two of them. “Thought you might like that.”

“We all love you, Vi,” Powder says, squeezing her hand.

“Yeah,” Mylo agrees. “You're stuck with us forever, don't forget that.” It earns him a jab in the side from Claggor and a look from Silco, but Vi snorts at him.

—

Everyone else has given Vi their presents. Some smaller, more simple, some more pricey than others.

Silco gifted her a few bottles of alcohol, with the advice not to drink it all in one go. 

Mylo gave her a new set of punching gloves that he saved up for, black and pink with ‘VI’ on the wrist. 

Claggor gave a new brass knuckle set, along with a nice pair of red leather gloves and a new beanie for the winter, since he had noticed hers was old and falling apart. 

Sevika gave a new leather jacket, black and lined with deep red, with silver zippers. She puts it on right away, getting some “ooo's” and “ah's” from everyone upon seeing how she looks with it on.

Benzo brought her a blanket. He explained that he didn't know what to get her, so he walked into the store and looked for the softest blanket they had, thinking it was the only thing that made the most sense.

Ekko gave her a painting. On it was a detailed, almost perfect looking Vi, complete with her tattoos and everything.

Powder gave a whole handmade care package. She made her favorite snacks, made her a book full of scrapbooking items and stickers, made her a bracelet with a few different colored beads, and made a cute mini scrapbook of the two of them and everyone else together. She got a few tears for that one and a tight hug.

Now, there's only one gift left for Vi. You hold the crate in your hands, the crate that holds the two sibling huskies.

The dogs are finally awake and squirming around inside, making noises as they try to greet everyone. You set the crate on the floor and let the pups run out, watching Vi stand up to come over to see the dogs. She kneels down to pet them, scratching behind both of their ears. She smiles as tears form in the corners of her eyes. She scoops both up into her arms, petting its fur and burying her face in its fur, just to take in the fact that she finally has a dog herself, and it's with her favorite person.

Powder grins. “Can I hold the other one?” she asks, and Vi nods her head, adjusting the dog in her arms to give Powder a better opening, allowing her to scoop the other one up, which starts nuzzling against her hand.

Vi turns to look at you. “Do they have names?” She strokes the puppy's fur.

“They do not,” you reply. “I figured you should be the one to name them.”

“I'll have to think of a good one.” She looks back down at the pup in her arms. “Maybe a matching name for them?”

“What about Mylo and Milo?” Mylo suggests, earning another elbow from Claggor.

“Ha ha,” Vi jokes back. “No.”

“That's so corny,” Powder mumbles. “How about a matching 'M' name?” Powder suggests. “like Mandy and Mack.”

“A dog should have a more badass name like Spike!” Mylo says.

Everyone throws out ideas. Some are better than others. Some are more serious, some are funnier, but none of them really stick. Vi listens to everyone's ideas, occasionally humming or shaking her head “no” to the suggestion.

Mylo even suggests one named “Mylo Junior” in a desperate attempt to include his own name, but gets shut down once more. Powder is getting annoyed, and even Ekko is trying to get Mylo to stop. 

Powder keeps suggesting names, and while there are some that seem like good suggestions, Vi doesn't quite agree with them. Claggor throws out a few names, each also being denied, though they are much better than the names Mylo suggested. Sevika even pitches in, the names that she suggests are a lot more serious and more mature sounding.

In the end, Vi still doesn't feel 100% on any of the names that have been thrown out, until she looks back up at you. “Any ideas? You haven't said anything.”

You look over at the dog on Vi's arm and the one on Powder's, looking back at your girlfriend. You're silent for a second before you suggest, “Bacon and Biscuit?”

“Bacon and Biscuit?” Mylo groans.

Sevika gives him a look, her eyebrows raised. “Odd but interesting.” 

“It's kind of cute,” Benzo agrees.

“It suits them, actually,” Silco nods next to him.

Vi thinks about it, looking at the pups as if considering the name. “Bacon and Biscuit,” she says, testing out the sound of it. “Bacon and Biscuit,” she repeats, and a smile creeps on her lips. “You guys like that?” she asks the dogs, as if expecting them to answer her.

Everyone nods their heads, even if they find it corny, it suits the puppies—or at least it suits them at that moment.

“Bacon and Biscuit,” Powder coos, scratching one of the dogs behind the ear.

“It's not the worst thing we've heard,” Mylo admits. “But Mylo Jr. is way better,” and this earns him a punch in the arm again.

She looks back up at you. “I love it,” she says, looking back down at the dogs. “Bacon and Biscuit,” she repeats once more, loving the way it sounds.

“The names are set, then,” Vander says. “Now that that's settled, let's continue with the birthday party, shall we?”

notes: i do NOT know how to name a pet so....

[maidragoste]

hiii can i request a jace velaryon x reader where they are betrothed and jace is head over heels for her but she doesn’t want to get married because she knows it’s a political marriage and she doesn’t think jace likes her because he avoids her (not really “avoids” but tries to keep distance by ending convos quickly or not sitting next to her during mealtimes etc) due to his crush and being nervous around her.

ps. i’m so sorry for you loss, my cats are my babies so i am sending you an extra tight hug :(

Hi, anon, thank you very much for your message 🫂🫂 I hope you are well 💖💖

I'm sorry it took me so long to finish your request but I hope you like the result 🥰🥰

As I always say, likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated because they motivate me to keep writing 🤭💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

To say that you are excited about your engagement would be a lie.

Well, actually, at first you were, after all, every girl's dream was to marry a prince. But any fantasy of a loving marriage was put to rest with your fiancé's attitude.

Jacaerys Velaryon is not a bad man, he is not rude or treats you badly. But he clearly doesn't like you. Every time you try to have a conversation with the prince he finds a way to excuse himself to quickly end any interaction with you. When he arrives after you to the dining room and you smile at him giving him a clear invitation to sit next to you, you always end up disappointed because he is going to sit next to his brothers. But you never felt so humiliated as right now. You thought he would ask you to dance, you were sure he was watching you from the other side of the room and when you saw that Prince Aegon, King Viserys' son, gave him a push towards where you were sitting you thought it was to encourage him to ask you to dance, but when Jacaerys approached instead of offering you his hand he gave it to Baela, who was sitting next to you. You stared at your lap feeling deeply embarrassed and wishing to go home.

Maybe the problem was that Jacaerys wanted a Valyrian bride and instead, he had to settle for you, a noble girl without a dragon or violet eyes. But if that was the reason why Jacaerys wasn't even forcing himself to make this not just a political marriage then you thought he was a fool.

You wanted the party to end so you could go to your chambers and write to your mother to beg her to convince your father to break off the engagement. You didn’t want to marry Jacaerys.

“Will you dance with me?”

You raised your eyes from your lap to see Aegon Targaryen, your fiancé’s younger brother. You felt mortified, you must have been such a pitiful sight that the kid decided to take pity on you and put you out of your misery.

“It would be an honor my prince” You took a while to reply but Aegon never got nervous, in fact, he seemed sure that you wouldn’t refuse him.

The little prince led you to the dance floor like a good gentleman and the two of you began to dance. You honestly thought that he would at least step on you by accident once but the truth is that he dances very well.

“My brother can be quite a fool sometimes,” Aegon said, drawing your full attention, and if you weren’t already so upset with Jacaerys, then you would have told him he shouldn’t talk about his own brother like that. “I think he acts like that with you because you make him nervous.”

“That sounds foolish,” you said, not allowing yourself to have any hope that your possible future brother-in-law is right.

“I told you, he’s a fool,” he said with a small smile before spinning you around.

You were shocked when you finished spinning and found that your new dance partner was none other than your headache: your fiancé. You tried hard not to feel anything when his hand took yours and his other hand placed itself on your hip.

“You look beautiful,” Jacaerys said, surprising them both because he hadn’t planned to say that out loud. “It’s not that you didn’t look beautiful the other days, you always look beautiful,” he quickly clarified, afraid that he had offended you unintentionally when he saw that you remained silent.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile when you noticed his nerves. Maybe Prince Aegon was right.

“Thank you, my prince. It’s good to know that you don’t displeasure me.”

“Displeasure me? “Why would you think I displeasure you?” His pretty brown eyes looked at you distraught.

“Because you don’t spend time with me,” you answered obviously. “You seem to prefer being anywhere than being with me. It’s a miracle that you’re dancing with me right now.” There was no harshness in your tone but Jacaerys still felt embarrassed. “You know your brother told me something interesting, I’d like to know if he’s right or wrong,” you said, drawing the prince’s attention.

“What did Aegon say to you?”

“He told me that I make you nervous and that's why you avoid me,” you replied cheekily and watched with delight as a slight blush appeared on his face upon being discovered.

“I am so sorry, my lady."I shouldn't have had such a shameful attitude,” he apologized, realizing that because of his nerves, he had given you the wrong idea. It had never been his intention to make you think he didn’t like you.

“I will not accept your apology,” your words were like a slap to him and he couldn’t help but tense up. You weren’t even married and he already managed to upset you. “At least until I see your change of attitude,” you declared and felt excited as you saw his eyes fill with determination. Suddenly he seemed to have gained confidence.

"I'll do it. I will reward you,” Jacaerys promised, determined to be a better fiancé and not disappoint you again. He wanted to lay the groundwork for a good marriage with you.

“I can’t wait to see that,” you smiled, and he quickly returned your smile, feeling happy that you were willing to give him another chance.

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[ghostssimp]

Arguing// Aegon Targaryen

You will know where the inspiration took off when you read the lines, and I'm on my knees for Aegon in that scene, I don't care. Rhaenyra, you are my Queen, but your brother is so damn fine, I'm sorry.

Once again, I want to thank you all for your support and reposts of my works! I haven't been writing in a long time and to have such a support on my works when I get back into it means a lot!

18+

I've deacided that if you you feel like it, you could ask for a request and I would be writing it! Feel free!

It always seemed like he was impossible to talk to now that you've grown. Head up into his ass, not listening, always being on onto his way, and the thing that got on your nerves is that he looked too damn good.

It was just a month in when the two of you got married by your grandfather's wish. Alicent was first to be against it, after all you're Rhaenyra's daughter. Would you turn her own son against her? Of course not, you didn't give a damn about her.

But just maybe, she was the reason behind Aegon's actions. Aegon was an asshole, bit before when tje two of you were kids, he was always there for you. You didn't have much girls around here. Well, Haelena was there but most of the time you didn't understand what she was talking about. It was mostly bugs and she has ton of them but still it seemed like she was in her own world.

So you had to be with your brothers and uncles. Sometimes your brothers would get on your nerves, by saying that you're a girl and that you can't play with them, or even train. You always wanted to be part of them, but felt a little rejected. Aegon was there to give you a hand and pull you towards them, sometimes just the two of you would run off somewhere to have hours of talking alone. It all seemed perfect then.

Now, your dear husband is ignoring you, wenting off to get drunk and be with some whores. It was getting to you slowly, your heart clenching at the tought of him with someone else. It's not fair for him to be so good to you, then throw you away like a rug.

The night has rollled around and you retreated into your shared chambers. It felt like you didn't have a single friend in this damn castle as your family wasn't here. You already started to wonder if your letters have made it to them in the last month, as you didn't recieve any of them. You had a feeling that certain someone, has their claws in it. Here and there, you would go to your grandfather and sit by his bed. It hurted you to see him in this state. You would read to him, all until Alicent would come and woosh you out.

Targaryen, all alone amongst them. What a scary tought.

The doors of your bedroom flew open as your eyes fell on your husband who had a frown on his face as he entered. He didn't even seem drunk, for some reason. He may have took a cup or two, but not more. His eyes searched the room as they fell on you. They softened a little at the sight. You wore your nightgown, your hair let down in silver, silky waves as your violet eyes stared at him in wonder. You looked like a little deer, just waiting for the predator to sink it's teeth into you.

"Aegon?" Your voice got him out of the haze and the frown made it's way back.

"What seems to trouble you, husband?" You step towards him and reach out your hand, but before you can even touch him, he slaps it away. You pull back shocked. Your mouth little gaped as you couldn't believe it. "Aegon, what has gotten into you!"

He groans rolling his eyes and turning his back away from you, undoing his shirt roughly. "What has gotten into me?" He was irritaded and his voice deep and above whisper.

"The fact that you seem so comftrable next to male servants, laughing and touching their hands. So happy and out of your mind that you can't spare your husband a glare." He says angrily, throwing his shirt away, his bare back staring at you as he leans on a chair staring at the fire. He was out of mind to think that you would give anyone else attention than him.

You did laugh with servants, but because today you didn't look where were you going and you collided with them. You felt sorry for you to be so into your head and you helped them up, laughing about the situation.

The confusion you had has been replaced with anger. "The fuck did you say?" You saw his back freezing at your tone. He turns around, his head leaned a little with a deep frown. "Did you just cuss?"

"I did. And I will fucking again, for your head to be so fucking high in your ass that you blame me for something you think you saw, while you go and fuck the others as your wife waits for you, in your shared fucking chambers and hopes that just for one damn moment you would come and be the same sweet boy you once were." You stood with your hands opened wide as anger seeped off of you.

Something in him steered for a moment. To see you like this. To voice it off. To show fire in your eyes. His mother may have been wrong about you. "Please, and you have to go to a first men to find comfort in." He shakes his head at you, still blinded by his jealousy.

You chuckle at him biting your tounge. "I have no fucking friend here Aegon. No one. And for you to come and throw accusations like this, at my face. You fucking idiot. Haven't you seen how much I wanted to be your wife? How much I wanted to be given to you? And instead, you go off and fuck the others. You had me just once, on our wedding night and you were drunk."

You smirk knowing the next words would sting him. "Couldn't even satifsy a woman." You see something in his eyes flash.

His breathing deepens. His eyes narrow at you. Did he heard you right? Couldn't satisfy? Maybe you were right, because he didn't show you what you truly meant. What he needed to do to you. His eyes fell to your nightgown. He looks back, your eyes meeting his.

"Take it off." His voice deep and raspy. His eyes dark and hungry. He takes a slow step towards you, but you didn't move an inch. "Take it off before I rip it off." He stood in front of you and wanted to wipe off that challenging look out of your face.

You felt your stomach taking turns. You have never seen Aegon like this, moving to you like you were a prey. You have hit the nerve. "You wouldn't dare." You pull your chin up to look at him even more challenging. Huff came out of him. Then a deep chuckle, raspy and dark. It made your legs almost weak to see him smirk like that.

You weren't sure how it happened so fast, but your nightgown has been ripped and on the floor as you were pinned under him on the bed. Gasp left your lips as his hand found your needy cunt, spreading the wetness around. His fingers worked his way as your moan was captured with his lips against yours. You did have to touch yourself for nights wishing your husband to be here to help you, but you couldn't imagine anything would feel like this.

The hunger you both sweeped off, the desire. It was all bottled up and finally it's seeping out as he pulls himself out of his tightt pants and pushes into you slowly as his hand found your throat. He looks at you deep in the eye as he pulls out and slams back into you, another whimper and moan getting out of your lips.

"I have dared. And I find it stimulating."

[paulyenvol6]

Delicate

Based on this amazing request (Thank you so much, I had a blast writing this :)). Just wanted to let you know that I haven't watched Materialists yet so I'm sorry if I wasn't able to capture Harry's character so well, but I tried my best! Anyways, enjoy <3

Contains: fluff, sweetness overload, brief mentions of anxiety and panic, little bit of crying but nothing heavy, mentions of alcohol, kissing, suggestive tension

Wordcount: 7,796

Masterlist

You nibbled at your thumb and instantly cursed yourself as you dropped your hand.

You weren't supposed to be so nervous. And you certainly weren't supposed to fall back into your old habits and bite your nails out of nervousness. This was just a date after all, a nice dinner at a beautiful restaurant to see how the two of you would be going along.

On one hand you didn't want to go into this with too many expectations. But when you thought about Harry, his gentle smile and soft brown eyes you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but feel your heart clench and as much as it could be caused by sheer anxiety, part of you knew that after your first meeting at the wedding last week, you sort of had a little… crush? Who could blame you, really? He was a dream. A perfect, surreal dream that was almost too good to be real.

"Hi!"

You twirled around, clumsy hands reaching for the wall of the building next to the restaurant to ground yourself and prevent yourself from stumbling.

"H-Hi, Harry," you smiled, your heartrate shooting up, but the curl of your lips genuine. Then your gaze dropped to what he was holding in his left hand and this time your heartbeat didn't fasten, but on the contrary, it stopped for a brief moment. He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand, with shades of purple and violet catching your eyes as you took in the various tulips, asters, petunias, and clematis.

"Oh," you made and involutarily squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassement. This was the worst reply you could think of. No 'thank you' or 'wow', just a stupid 'oh'.

"It's very good to see you," Harry said, smirking as he handed you the bouquet of flowers. "For you. You mentioned that purple is your favorite color, so I thought…"

He left the sentence unfinished, but your eyes were on the bright purple anyway. The muscles around your mouth were twitching and tingling, an untamable chaos thrumming in your stomach as you took the bouquet with trembling hands and then looked up to him again.

Say something. Thank you. Anything.

"Thank you so much," you eventually said, a little too late, but still reasonable.

"You're welcome," he answered, invitingly raising his eyebrows."I can carry the bouquet while we go inside. It might be a bit unwieldy. Besides, you've got your purse."

You blinked a few times and all you were able to think about was how dumb and slow you must look to him. It took you an extra 10 seconds to process each of his words, and then you responded with as few words as possible.

"Yeah, that'd be great. And really, thank you. I love the color purple and the flowers are so pretty." You were content with yourself now, softly exhaling as Harry glanced at your profile while offering you his arm.

"I'm glad. There were two bouquets I liked and had to choose between and I wasn't really sure which one to take, but I was in a rush because I obviously didn't want to make you wait and so I was forced to make a decision. Sorry for being a little late by the way."

You chuckled, turning toward him while taking his arm.

"You were not late. I was a bit too early."

Harry pushed the door open, but you were too absentminded to observe your surroundings such as the waiter standing by the door, the dimly lit interior of the italian restaurante, the bar and the flower bouquets by the entrance that didn't quite match the color of your flowers, but didn't look any less pretty. You were so taken by Harry, he was like a black hole sucking in all your attention and making you hyperaware of every single detail of him – the things you had already noticed the day you had met him as well as the new ones. The little scar on his hairline, the few grey strands highlighting his thick black hair and of course his indistinct smile. The way it seemed to reach his eyes at once, making them shimmer and radiate warmth and comfort, which you found remarkable considering the fact that you had only just met him.

Harry exchanged a few words with the waiter, but you couldn't hear them. Not just because you were daydreaming about the man next to you, but also because of the loud noises in the restaurant. For a moment you feared that the muffled mumuring and loud laughter might impose a struggle for your conversation, but it turned out the waiter was leading you to a table slightly away from the others. The distant piano music was still in your ear, but a lot more subtle now and so was the mumbling from the other guests.

Harry, the polite gentleman that he was, pulled back the chair, waited until you had sat down and then adjusted it while you smiled over your shoulder.

"Thank you. Your manners really are remarkable. I almost feel bad because I wasn't taught all of this."

He grinned while taking his seat across the table.

"Don't. I like things to be a little romantic. Or, you know… I like a retro vibe at times. But I don't demand or - or god forbid expect the same from the people around me."

You nodded and ran your eyes over the cutlery spread out in front of you, swallowing at the sight of four spoons, four knives, and four forks. This was an expensive establishment and although you weren't surprised by Harry taking you somewhere fancy, you still felt a little lost.

"It's so beautiful in here. I love the tapestries and the paintings. Do you come here often?"

"Not really. I like to save this place for special occasions."

God he was a flirt and the wink of his left eye didn't exactly improve the situation. You were his special occasion and despite acknowledging his words for a polite gesture, you found that it wouldn't have been necessary to answer that way. Maybe…, just maybe he actually saw potential for this, just like you did.

"But do you have any recommendations?" you wanted to know, hoping that the slight flushness on your face would be swallowed by the bad lightning.

"They have good pasta. I had the mushroom pasta once and I liked it," Harry answered with such a welcoming smile that you felt like your awkwardness didn't matter at all. He was encouraging you, giving you signs that none of this was odd or uncomfortable with subtle gestures such as his flashing eyes or his soft tone when he was adressing you.

"Maybe I'm gonna try that one then," you said more to yourself and dropped your eyes to the menu. The prices next to the selections of food were making your eyes widen, but you had a strong feeling, Harry hadn't accidentally chosen this place. At least you didn't want to order the most expensive meal on the menu, so you actually decided to go with the mushroom pasta.

"How was your day?" Harry asked once the waiter had taken your orders (Pasta Arrabiata for your date) and leaned over the table, elbows resting on the surface.

"Oh whatever," you wryly grinned, swinging your head to the side as you made yourself comfortable on the cushion.

"What does that mean?" he asked, wrinkling his forehead.

"Work was a little stressful. And I got into a fight with my sister. But you know… I was just thinking of our dinner tonight and that kept me going."

Harry returned the smile, his hand toying with the salt shaker, but his eyes on you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Yes. If you really wanna know… My sister's getting married soon and I wanna be supportive and patient and you know, be calm even when she freaks out, but today I don't know…" You sighed, wiping over your eyes. "I was stressed because of work and then we met for lunch and I immediatly saw how nervous and restless she was and so we were both kind of strained and had a fight. Over something stupid, it doesn't even really matter. But now I feel bad because I feel like I have to be a better sister and I'm unsupportive because this is such a special time for her and I wasn't there for her today."

Harry nodded in understanding, biting down on his lip as he watched you.

"I'm sorry. But your feelings are valid too. You felt stressed and overloaded and that means you deserve someone to be there for you too."

You carefully glanced up to him, feeling so relieved and touched by his words, but regretful over the fact that it had taken less than 5 minutes for you to complain and pour your heart out to him. What must he think of you? That you were an emotionally unstable drama queen who wasn't capable of having normal small talk? You sighed, forcing your lips to curl into a smile.

"Thank you. And… I'm sorry, I don't wanna bother you with my problems now while we are in such a nice place. How was your day?"

Harry lowly chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip and was just about to say something when the waiter came to bring your beverages. A bottle of Sangiovese and two glasses that he placed in front of the two of you. After he had poured you an appropriate amount of the deep red liquid, Harry looked at you again.

"Now I forgot what I wanted to say… Oh yeah I know: don't apologise, okay? I'm glad you feel comfortable talking to me about stuff like this and I'm happy to listen. And you're not bothering me with it. If it makes you feel better, I'm all ears for you. Okay?"

You laughed, your finger tracing the base of the wine glass and a telling pink creeping up on your cheeks.

How could someone be that nice?

Your face was glowing, your heart pounding in your chest as you gave him a nod.

"Good," he answered, leaning back in his chair and raising his glass along with you.

"To good conversation then," he grinned and your glasses gently clinked together, producing a soft, tinkling sound.

"Damn small talk," you joined and then took a careful sip from the wine.

"Oh it's good," you said once you had removed the glass from your lips and put it back down on the table.

"It is. And I thought it would go well with both of your pastas." Harry did the same thing as you, lowering the glass and then tilting his head.

"Oh and you asked about my day… Not that stressful fortunately. But I did have a weird encounter with a cat on my way to work."

"With a cat?" you giggled.

"Yeah. She wouldn't stop following me until I was about to step into the office building. I don't know what it was, but I guess I should feel flattered."

You smirked and rested your chin on your palm, watching Harry with a sparkle in your eyes.

"You should've adopted her. Maybe you just met your soulmate."

"I do hope that my soulmate is not a cat," he scoffed. "And maybe I need to keep myself available for now. Not jump into a new relationship while I'm getting to know someone as lovely as you."

You almost shuddered at his words, a warm shiver rushing down your spine in the most comforting way.

"You're right about that. And I mean I couldn't possibly compete with a cat like that. Especially when she's so loyal to you."

Harry winked, taking another sip from his wine.

"I don't think you have to worry about that. Not being able to compete with a cat, I mean."

The two of you laughed and only now did you realise how comfortable and at ease you were. There was no trace left of the initial nervousness and you could only once again silently thank Harry for his endearing and calm nature.

Soon the food came and a little later the two of you were deeply invested in a hot-headed discussion about literature. You found out about his love for modernism and that his favorite author was Kafka and long after your plates were empty and all that was left of the wine were a few stains at the edge of the glasses, your conversation drifted to music. Harry turned out to be a big fan of 70s and 80s music and you were more than happy to have found an equally passionate counterpart when it came to your favourite bands and musicians. And then, noticing your yawns that grew more regular over time, Harry cleared his throat, dimples visible as he raised his eyebrows.

"Are you tired?" he asked, his voice so soft and husky that you felt goosebumps rise on your arms.

"Yes, a little. I think it would be good to get home soon, I have to be at work early tomorrow," you admitted, apologetically pursing your lips.

"Of course. How did you get here, do you want me to drive you home?" he asked, but already scanned the restaurant for a waiter.

"No, no, that's alright. I took the subway."

He stopped in the motion, his gaze lingering on your eyes and a frown visible on his brow.

"I'm not gonna let you take the subway so late. I'm afraid I have to insist."

You were doubtful, but couldn't deny the bubbly coil in your stomach area. He was sweet and affectionate and unfortunately you were the kind of person to fall for stuff like that.

"But it's not really on your way, is it?" you whispered nonetheless because you really didn't want him to waste his time and be the reason for it.

"Y/n," he said, carefully, almost shyly, placing his hand on top of yours, which made the corners of your mouth lift.

"I want to drive you home. It's about 15 minutes. Otherwise you would have to take the train and not only wouldn't it be safe, but this is much faster. Please let me."

What were you to say against this? You found you had no choice but to approve, but thanked him a million times in the next few minutes until Harry once again stated that you were doing him a favor by letting him drive you.

"I wouldn't be able to have a peaceful drive home if I was worried about your safety."

Then you stayed silent about the topic and found yourself in his passenger seat five minutes later. His expensive passenger seat, as it might be worth mentioning. The leather felt cool against your naked thigh and although Harry had told you that he drove the black mercedes for almost 4 years now, it still smelled new and fresh. Of warm vinyl, something clean and money.

Harry had held you the door open and now walked around the car to take his seat on the other side.

"Ready to go?" he asked once the two of you had fastened your belts and glanced at your profile with a mischievous smile.

"Always," you replied and then the bright lights around you, the distanced red of some traffic lights, the logo of a cinema across the street and the lights behind the restaurant winows began dancing before your eyes as Harry started the drive to your apartment.

"I had a really good time tonight," he said after a few seconds, his eyes on the street, but his pupils flickering like he had to fight the urge not to look at you to watch you for your reaction.

"So did I. I would love to do it again," you answered, but then furrowed your brow. "But I can't have you invite me to such an expensive restaurant again, Harry. Although this was probably the best pasta I've ever had."

"Then why not? I like making you happy and I don't mind. But if you really want to do something else, I know a nice bar just down the street. We could meet there and grab something to drink later this week. Maybe it would also be better to do something earlier so you won't be tired for work the next day."

You had to bite your lip, partly because you loved the way he cared about you, remembering all the little signs and things you had said earlier, but also because the prospect of going out with him again this week made you fear for the sound that might escape your throat.

"I would love that. Just tell me when and where," you grinned and excitedly intertwined your fingers.

"Perfect. What do you think about Thursday? I get off work at 6, so maybe 7?"

You could only nod with a stupid smile glued to your lips, but Harry couldn't see it anyways.

"So we're making plans before you have even dropped me off… I'd say that's a good sign, right?"

His teeth scraped his lower lip, a brief glimpse in your direction the only answer you received.

You tapped on your phone screen, your breath coming out in sharp hitches.

6:57.

You would make it, you were sure. The bar was just around the corner and you still had 3 minutes, so you just had to hurry up a little. But you didn't want to be soaked with sweat when you arrived.

What was more important? Being on time or your face not glistening with sweat?

Fuck it, you thought and slowed down. One or two minutes too late wasn't a big deal. Last time you had waited for Harry for 5 minutes, but to be fair, you had been 10 minutes early. You briefly closed your eyes, shaking your head to clear your mind and forcing your racing breath to calm down. Everything would be fine and overthinking it would only make you more nervous.

You were heading around the corner now, blinking a few times at the sun-drowned street and raising your hand to protect your eyes from the soft, golden rays. You looked at your phone again. 5:59 and no text from Harry.

A part of you, a strange, anxious and insecure part of you feared to get a massage cancelling the date from him, but at the same time the rational part of you knew that he wouldn't do that. It was him after all.

Him, who you hadn't been able to stop thinking about for the past two days. Him, who had been haunting your mind like a ghost howling around a scary, decayed lodge and him, who was now standing in front of the bar a few feet away from you.

You waved, but instantly felt awkward doing it so you lowered your hand. Harry had noticed you though and turned toward you, the smile on his face visible even from the distance.

"Hey!" he said once you were in reach and determindely took a step toward you, pulling you in for a gentle hug, which you welcomed with an inaudible happy sigh. He was so warm, so soft and big. His hands were on your back, sprawled out on the small of your back and stroking up and down your clothed skin.

"Very good to see you. You look beautiful" he said against your hair.

It took you much too long to answer him, your senses overstimulated and cloudy from the smell of his aftershave in your nose, but when you eventually did, Harry had already withdrawn, leaving you disappointed that the body contact had ended so soon.

"Thank you, so do you. And I'm happy to see you too. How have you been doing? Any more weird encounters with cats?"

"Oh way too many," Harry answered, chuckling softly and putting his hands in his front pockets.

He looked absolutely gorgeous tonight, wearing a black turtelneck, a jacket and plain, grey tousers that fitted him suspiciously well. So well that you were almost sure they were tailored to his body.

"But no, she luckily left me alone. You get aaaaall my attention tonight, I swear. Should we go in? Then you gotta tell me about the concert. I'm just happy to see you and the band wasn't so taken by you that they took you on tour with them."

Harry placed a hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you to the door and you immediately felt your heartrate picking up as the warmth of his palm spread in your body. You just hoped that it wouldn't be too hot inside because you were already struggling here, the air somehow stuffy although a cool breeze was blowing through the city.

Soft piano music was lingering in the air as Harry opened the door, taking a step aside, so you could enter the bar. You were welcomed by indistinct mumbling combined with the tinkling jazz notes the woman by the piano produced with her elegant slender hands dancing over the keyboard.

"Over there?" you said over your shoulder, your hand gesturing to a table in the corner of the bar, and approached it once Harry had given you a nod.

The butterflies were awakened at the sight of him taking off his jacket and putting it over his chair. Tonight you noticed a ring on his pinky finger, a green emerald if your eyes weren't mistaken by the dim light.

"And?" Harry said loudly to overcast the noises from a larger group of people gathered by the counter.

"What?" you asked, frowning in confusion.

"Tell me about the concert."

"Oh right. It was amazing. Absolutely amazing. My friend and I were at the venue at like… I think like 3pm and I'm eternally grateful to her for calling in sick for the afternoon just so we could be there early. I don't think my legs are every gonna recover from standing so long, but it was amazing. And it was worth it, we were second row."

You wore a broad smile, your eyes sparkling as you told about the perfect night that had happened the day before and reached for your phone in your back pocket.

"You wanna see a picture?"

"Sure," Harry said, leaning over the table to watch the photos on your phone.

"Oh wow. You really had a great view. And – oh I see... the bass you told me about."

"Yes," you grinned proudly, turning your phone so you could take another look at the instrument of your dreams.

"It sounded soooo good, you wouldn't be able to imagine it. And to take a look at it from up close? It was more than I could pray for. And of course the band… They were magical. One of the best concerts I've ever been to, and the crowd, the vibes… I'm already missing it."

Harry watched your screen for a few more seconds before leaning back in his chair again, wrinkles around his eyes as he tapped with his fingers over the wooden surface of the table.

"I'm really glad you had a good time and everything turned out so well. Do you know how many people were there?"

"Mhmm I'm really bad at estimating stuff like that, but maybe… I don't know, like 4000 people? It wasn't a large show, but not super small either."

With trembling hands you put the phone back into your pocket. Not only because just thinking about the show from last night made you all excited and pumped with adrenaline again, but also because you almost lost it at the way Harry seemed genuinely interested in what you had been doing and were telling him right now. You felt appreciated and seen. Like this man sincerely wanted to know about you and what was going on in your life and you could honestly say that no man had ever made you feel like that.

"But what about you? Anything special that happened the last days?"

Harry thoughtfully pursed his lips, scratching his temple and crossing his legs under the table.

"I met with my brother, which was nice. But apart from that just a lot of work. Which is fine, I don't wanna complain, but I almost feel bad that this is all I can report from the last two days."

"No, don't. I don't go to a concert every week. This was special for me too."

Harry smiled at you, taking in your face and the softness around your eyes. His knee briefly brushed against your leg, making your heart skip a beat and you wondered how you would ever be able to initiate any kind of physical contact if you reacted to the briefest touch of his knee like that.

"Good. I don't wanna lie to you, I'm not the biggest party person. I like going out like this or have dinner at a restaurant or go to the movies, but my favorite nights are nights in."

"I get that. I love a solid night on the couch with a good movie and takeout food."

At this point, you were interrupted by a waiter taking your orders which consisted of two beers, but once he was gone, Harry picked up the conversation right where it had stopped.

"Noted," he smirked and you would have giggled like a teenage girl, hadn't you swallowed the sound in the last second.

"Did I mention that I have pets, by the way?" you tried to avert from your childish reaction, planting your elbows on the table.

"No, you haven't. What pets?"

"You can guess. I give you three options, but it's a bit unusual."

Harry narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

"Okay. I'm all ears."

"A: Two sand boas, B: axolotls or C: an ant colony."

You triumphantly glanced at him, watching as you could hear it rattle behind his scalp and challengingly lifting your eyebrows once Harry opened his mouth.

"I'm going for… Okay let me explain my thought process: It's not the axolotl. I don't know why, there is no explanation, but I just don't see you with one."

"Do you know me that well already, Harry Castillo?" you hissed through small eyes, but Harry just laughed it off and pointed at you.

"No, no, no. Don't you play mind tricks with me. I mean it could be the axolotl. But I don't think so for some reason. In my head you wouldn't really like them. And then… I think a sand boa is a bit more conventional, right? I think I'm saying A. Just because… I honestly really don't know why, but I pick A."

You hesitated for a moment, savouring the curious and prying look from your opposite before you slowly folded your hands in front of you.

"It's C. The ant colony."

Harry's face dropped, a fist bumping on the table as his face drew with exasperation.

"Damn it. But honestly… I'd call it a win. I said that it's not the axolotl and I was right. I just know you."

"Harry, you said A. And it was C. I wouldn't call that a win."

The two of you broke into laughter, your body vibrating until Harry chewed on his bottom lip.

"So an ant colony… That's cool. How did you come up with it?"

Before you could answer, your beers were brought to the table, your warm, sweaty hands instantly reaching for the cold glass. When the waiter was gone, you cleared your throat.

"That's actually a very good question. My family and I had a big garden growing up with lots of insects obviously. My mother loves gardening and she always specifically planted plants that are bee and butterfly friendly. My sisters and I always used to play in the garden and I don't know, maybe it's just some childhood thing, but a couple of years ago I was thinking about having a little pet in my apartment and I knew that my place would be much too small for a dog or cat so I thought why not something smaller."

"And you went for the very small ones," Harry chuckled, wrapping a hand around his glass.

"I did, yeah. But I love them. They are easy to keep, they aren't a lot of work but I still like looking at them. They might not be as cute as a dog, but in my apartment that would be animal cruelty. I wouldn't have enough time for a dog anyway."

"I get that. I love dogs too, but I would only get one if I lived in the countryside. Ants are nice though. They don't make loud noises or take up much space. Although… I haven't asked how big the terrarium is."

He watched you with acted suspicion, eliciting a scoff from you.

"Don't worry, it's not that large. There are around 400 of them. I keep them in a terrarium on a shelf in my bedroom."

You raised your glass and winked.

"What're we drinking to today?" you asked. "Please not ants."

Harry sniggered, lifting his glass as well and twisting his lips.

"Then… maybe to us?"

"Cheers," you replied, softly clinging your beer against his, your eyes locked and everything around you suddenly very unimportant.

An hour and a half later, the noises in the bar grew louder. The group by the bar was now severely drunk, producing a volume of laughter fitting their level of intoxication.

"Would you like to go?" Harry fought against the chattering, leaning over the table to get closer to your ear. "It's so loud in here and I'm afraid we're gonna lose our voices."

You gave him a short nod, looking around for a waiter, but Harry sensed what you were about to do before you could act.

"Let me, okay?" he said and put a large hand on top of yours.

"But Harry, come on, I – "

"I invited you, haven't I?" he smiled, but there was something genuinely pleadingful in his eyes that made you let out a soft laughter.

"Damn it," you made, but sank back in the chair while Harry made eye contact with a waiter.

"I'm feeling genuinely bad, Harry. You can't just invite me all of the time, I feel… I just feel bad."

"Please don't. How many times do I have to tell you? You make me happy by letting me pay the bill. And once again: I invited you and asked you on a date. So it only makes sense that I pay."

With determined and deliberate hands he grabbed the bill the waiter had left there and took out his briefcase. Fortunately, you had only been in a bar after all so the check wouldn't be too high.

Soon he was done, had left a generous tip and rose to his feet while you did the same. Leaving the bar, you felt his warm hand on your back again and this time, walking through a dense crowd, you were even more grateful for it. The cold air outside hit you like a sharp smack in the face, the air knocked out of your lungs. Goosebumps instantly spread on your naked arms and legs like a disease and Harry certainly didn't have to be a genius to notice the signs of your coldness.

"Take that," he said at once, taking off his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.

"Oh my god, thank you. But tell me if you're freezing," you replied, immediately feeling a comforting warmth travelling from your stomach through your body and to every last fingertip, but you couldn't be certain that the change was caused by the jacket and not just the mere gesture.

"No problem. I'm all good."

He turned toward you with his body, your gaze catching at his broad chest and you silently cursed yourself for being so obvious.

"I had an amazing night. Thank you," you said instead to distract him from your telling stare.

"So did I. I… Actually I wanted to know if you would like to come over to my apartment for a bit. We could have a drink and have a chat in a more quiet place if you want to. If not that's fine of course. I can also just drop you off at your place."

Your heartbeat was thundering up your throat, both excitement and the fear of saying something wrong making your head dizzy.

"No, I would love that. I would love to go to your place. Thank you."

And so it happened. Harry opened the passenger door for you, waited until you were inside, closed it and then walked around the car just like he had done two nights ago. Within the blink of an eye, he sat next to you, hands on the steering wheel, but his gaze lingering on your eyes.

"You really look pretty tonight. Not that it's an exception though."

"Thank you, Harry. Thank you for everything, you are… you are the sweetest."

You didn't know where that unfamiliar boldness was coming from, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Harry gave you a wide grin and then started the car while you were getting comfortable in the passenger seat.

"You say 'thank you' too often. It's cute, you know, but you don't have to."

"Maybe I just want to be cute."

Jesus Christ, was that the alcohol speaking out of you?

You hadn't had much to drink, not more than a single glass, but you felt so… light and courgeous. You had nothing to lose and Harry had given you more than one signal during your two dates. He definitely was interested and so were you, so what were you waiting for?

"I can promise you, you don't need that to be cute. I'm more than satisfied with what I got."

His voice was low and a little raspy and frankly, it drove you insane. This was so much better than in the bar where the two of you had to scream just so you could hear one another.

"Alright then. That's all I've wanted in the first place."

With one last mischievous dart in your direction Harry activated the indicators and drove out of the parking space heading west where his apartment was located. It wasn't more than a ten minute drive and time passed so quick that you were almost surprised when Harry slowed down, looked over his shoulder and parked the car right by a very fancy looking apartment building. During the drive, the car had been filled with chatter and laughter, a flirty kind of tension still heavy in the air at all times, but now that Harry had parked the car, unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the driver's door, most of the playfulness was gone and something hot and intense was lingering around the two of you like a cloud.

A quiet 'Wow' escaped your mouth at the sight of the expensive cars parked by the building and you most certainly didn't have to be very smart to figure out what kind of neighbourhood you were visiting right now. Harry had seen your look of sheer baffle, but didn't comment it, instead unlocking the door and holding it open for you.

"Welcome, my lady."

You quietly giggled, curiously stepped inside and found yourself in front of a door with the name 'Castillo' next to the doorbell plate a minute after the two of you had walked up a few stairs.

Everything here screamed luxury, the warm walnut wood that coated the walls, radiating a soft and effortless warmth without being too obnoxious, a thick carpet floor that swallowed the sound of your heels on the ground with each step and this very specific scent in the air. It was nothing radical, nothing aggressive or stark. Just a faint, soft hint of cedar. Or was it pine? You didn't know, all you knew was that it reminded you of something woody, something that made a warm and coiling feeling of comfort gush from your heart.

"There… we go," Harry murmured as he opened the door to his apartment and once again, a sound of amasement catched in your throat.

The last thing you wanted was to make the impression that you were reducing him to his money and you most certainly didn't. It was him, his character and gentle nature that had swept you off your feet and you were sure that nothing would change that, no matter how often he would insist on paying the bill or how many times you would step into this impressive apartment of his. It was Harry you were here for. It was him you wanted to see across the table while having dinner and it was him you wanted to be led through the apartment by. And you still wanted all of these things even if the two of you were eating at a McDonalds and Harry was leading you through a rancid barn.

Nonetheless, the beauty and elegance of his apartment could not be denied. The marble floor, the spacious hallway that was stretching to a door that looked like it led to the living area and the few paintings decorating the walls were marvelous and you told Harry so.

"It's lovely, Harry."

He turned around, giving you a smile that looked almost shy and then stopped in his motion.

"You're lovely."

Your heart stopped and it wasn't just because of his words. It was his eyes that looked even more puppy-like in the subdued light of his apartment. And god he looked beautiful in his black turtleneck shirt, showing off his broad shoulders and muscular arms.

Slowly, he approached you, his eyes on you at all times and with each step he took, your legs seemed to become weaker. By the time he had reached you, you felt like you were about to faint, your head spinning and your hands playing with the hem of your skirt.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry murmured when all that was separating you from him was a few cubic centimeters of hot, steamy air.

"Yes," you breathed and then your lips finally connected and all of this tension and pressure that had accumulated over the past few hours (past few days actually) was finally released.

His lips were soft and careful at first, like he was still trying to savour the moment and not go all in immediately. Like he wanted to slowly explore you, not rush things, but enjoy every new inch of tender skin one by one. Take his time with you. He gently took your bottom lip between his, sucking and covering it with small kisses and all it took was a minute of his sweet treatment for you to start sighing.

In the meantime, Harry's hands were on your waist, palming you through your dress while yours were combing through the babyhair in his neck, twisting single strands around your fingers.

And yet, when his hands wandered down your side, touching your bare skin right where your dress ended, you stiffened up. Not because you didn't like his hands on your body and not because you had changed your mind about Harry. But his intentions were clear, his mouth hungry and demanding against yours and somehow you didn't feel ready yet. It was just… you couldn't even describe it in your head, but this thing between Harry and you was special. Beautiful and delicate, new and unfamiliar, but something that you wanted to savour to the very last drop. And not that you felt appalled by him – you had actually been drooling over him like an animal all night – but it was in that moment that you realised what you wanted was to wait. You didn't know for how long, maybe you would like to sleep with him on your next date, but you knew tonight was too fast for you. Therefore you felt yourself tense up and Harry seemed to notice it as well.

"Are you alright?" he asked against your lips, hands on your legs coming to a stop and his face withdrawing just a little bit.

"Yes. But… can we wait a little? I don't know, just… I don't feel ready for that step yet."

His expression softened and you felt a wave of relief crash upon you. You had feared, almost expected to find his first red flag because honestly, how could a man be that perfect, but he once again turned out to be understanding and caring.

"Of course," he whispered, his voice so low and gentle, your legs started to tremble. "You don't need to explain yourself. We can wait for as long as you want to."

He stepped away from you, one corner of his mouth lifting while he gestured to a door across the hallway.

"I'm sorry. I was really rude overrunning you like this, I just… I couldn't help myself."

"No, no. I enjoyed the kiss, I really did. And I – I feel drawn to you. I thought I made that obvious. I don't know, I guess I just wanna explore things slowly. Wait until it feels right and maybe tonight would just be a little too rushed for me. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested, really."

You didn't know why, but suddenly tears were swimming in your eyes. Maybe it was overload or the fear of pushing him away. What if you were sending the wrong signals and Harry wouldn't ask you on another date because he thought you had lost interest? That couldn't be further from the truth and the anxiety of having just rammed a deep gorge between the two of you made you panic, eyes big and wet with frustration about yourself. Why couldn't you just kiss him back, proceed and spend the night with him? Why couldn't you just feel ready and kiss him with the same passion and a clear head? Why had there been those doubtful thoughts swirling in your head?

"Hey," Harry suddenly made, reaching for your hand and squeezing it gently like he was afraid to hurt you.

"It's okay… It's all good, there's no need to panic," he hushed you, but you just shook your head.

"Come. Let's get you inside."

Harry slowly, yet determindely guided you into his living room and then to the couch. The cushions creaked when the two of you sank down, his worried gaze on the wetness gushing from the corners of your eyes at once.

"Listen to me okay? We're all good, aren't we? There's absolutely no reason to feel bad. Please, I don't ever want you to feel bad for not wanting something. This is important, okay? I'm so happy you told me about your boundaries and you should be really proud of yourself. You think either of us would've had a good time if we did something that you're uncomfortable with?"

His words had a good effect on you, the lump in your throat slowly dissolving and yet you weren't quite ready to accept his affectionate words yet.

"But – But I don't know why. I mean, I don't know why I wanna wait, because… because I like how things are going right now, but in that moment… I don't know, I just felt that I wasn't ready for it. Maybe… I don't know, maybe I just need a little more time. If you're willing to give me that time."

Your round eyes shyly glanced at him and you had to swallow as Harry briefly sighed before taking your hands into his.

"Oh y/n… You think that's the only reason I'm going out with you? You think that's all I'm after? I'll give you as much time as you need, hell, I don't care how much time you need, I'm doing this because I'm interested in you. I, shit, I don't want this to be too much for a third date, but I really like you. I… I can feel that there's something between us and if you're willing to go on another date with me I'd love to figure out what it is."

You exhaled again and it felt amazing. Fresh air was entering your lungs, your chest heaving heavily with the newly found freedom.

"Yes. Of course I want that. I'm really sorry for this whole drama, jesus… I didn't plan on crying, but I guess some things you just don't see coming."

"Don't apologise for that…," he murmured, briefly brushing with his thumb over your knuckles.

"But actually I'm rather concerned about the picture you have of me. I don't want you to think of me as this kind of guy who only dates for the one thing. I mean, yes, I couldn't really hold back tonight because I was just… in awe of how beautiful you look, but as I said, that's not why I asked you on this date. I want you to know that, okay? I asked you because I think you're smart and funny and interesting and I just feel comfortable around you."

You swallowed hard, but this time because his words moved you in a way that was making your throat dry.

"Thank you, Harry," you whispered, slightly moving closer to him. "I don't think of you that way. I guess I was just panicking because I thought that you might feel like I'm pushing you away. Which is the opposite of what I want. I felt like I wasn't giving enough and like I was risking it all by telling you that it was going too quickly for me. Because I thought maybe it's not going fast enough for you. But I feel comfortable around you too and I wanna get to know you better. I wanna know all about you and – and just see where this is going. Because I'm optimistic about this."

You smiled and Harry returned the most sincere and gentle smile you had ever seen. It was the kind of smile that you wished you were the first person in his life to receive.

"Is that okay?" he then said, draping an arm around your shoulders and caressing your skin.

"Yes," you replied and even slightly crouched against him until your head was resting on his shoulder.

"Good. Do you wanna drink something, by the way? Sorry, I'm a really bad host today."

You chuckled, eyes closed and your face gleaming with sheer satisfaction and peace with the moment.

"It's alright. I'm good. I would just like to stay like that for a while," you grinned, unaware of Harry's admiring gaze on your profile and perhaps it was for the better, he thought.

He didn't want to deter you with these feelings he had about you.

They were fragile and new, yet to be figured out, but already so intense that he couldn't believe this was basically your second date.

"Okay," he purred, his lips still curled into a grin long after the word had left his mouth.

[lupinsuniverse]

Hello! I hope you’re well! I wanted to say I received some prints from AltraViolet of your transformers art and I absolutely love your style. I wanted to ask you what mirage design you use for your art? Like is there a certain comic? I can’t seem to find the design on my own. Or is it moreso one you stylized? I love him but his g1 design can be awkward for me to draw and I also wanted to make sure I wasn’t accidentally stealing an original design by you if I used the design you primarily use to draw him.

Again, sorry to bother you with this as I know you probably get many messages on here.

Thank you for taking them time to read this! If you have the capacity to answer and don’t want to have this on your blog, a private answer is totally fine! :)

Hello 🙏 I am well, thank you I took this opportunity to share this little process of painting Mirage

I am not sure if I could call it my design. This is embarrassing because I made this when I didn't know how to design a mech (now I still don't ) and I didn't know much about transformers or how a toy works, which lead to me trying to mix everything I see on many Mirages from animation, comic, movie together

The design I used here is only for me to draw The echo garden fanart. Because I wanted to draw him so much but I was not sure how he looks in the fic so I try to design him on my own. I didn't think much about it until the day I'd already finished polishing them all and dm the author to ask about posting my fanart of the fic then that I could have just ask for the references of him Orz (I'm sorry Violet)

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 5)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: Mentions of reader's fictional father passing away.

Word Count: 3065

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Notes: UGH, sorry if this is shit, it doesn't feel right to me rn but i'm powering through.

_________________________________________

“I’m sorry about the other night,” you tell James when your Athletic Training Techniques class breaks to practice wrapping injuries the following Monday morning.

You don’t know why you’re apologizing for Rhysands behavior. He’s the one who should be doing the apologizing, but you can’t help the prickle of guilt that has wedged itself into your chest for the way he treated James when he so rudely interrupted your chat with his teammate at the hockey party you and Mor had attended.

Rhysand had crashed into your conversation like a F5 tornado, his violet eyes set in a glare so harsh you’d think that James Attor was his biggest rival and not one of his teammates. That stormy look on his face had only made you rage in return, utilizing the crackling irritation in your veins and wielding it like lightning, snapping at him for his disrespect.

James’ brows furrow at the pre-wrap you’re applying to his wrist. His tan hand in warm in yours as you keep it steady, and you wonder if all hockey players hands are this calloused.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he says, russet eyes flicking up to meet yours. He swings his legs softly from where he’s perched atop one of the tables. It’s cute, even more so when he shrugs innocently. “That’s captain, you don’t mess with what’s his.”

What’s his? You almost scoff but catch it just in time. “I’m not his,” you respond stiffly.

James’ cheeks turn bright red and for a moment you’re worried you’ve wrapped the athletic tape too tightly but he’s quick to blurt out his response. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to say that he told the entire team to stay away from you because you’re his cousin’s best friend, not because he, like, owns you or anything.”

And well, that’s a lot better than him insinuating that Rhys wants you all to himself, which, the longer you think about it, leaves you with a gooey feeling in the pit of your stomach. One that you’re not sure you should like given the knowledge that he warned his entire team away from you.

Yeah, that thought strikes you just as harsh the second time around, and this time, you latch onto it like a leech.

“He put a teamwide ban on me?” You almost shriek. You knew that he didn’t want you talking to his team, he made that perfectly clear to you the other night, but you had no idea that he talked to the entire damn team about you!

You ignore the glare a crimson haired girl beside you shoots you. Whatever, she should mind her own business and focus on her wrapping because that girl’s arm would be drooping like a limp noodle if it were really injured.

She breaks the stare off first and you go right back to stewing. What the hell? Rhys is acting like a total barbarian over this entire situation. It’s not like you’re related to him for fuck’s sake, you’re an accessory to his cousin, and if you want to shack up with one of his players, you will, because damn his rule. “He can’t do that! I don’t even know most of the team!”

“I think the term he actually used was banished. Or was it forbidden? I can’t remember,” James trails off thoughtfully. All you can do is gape in response, completely frozen at Rhysand’s audacity. When your partner notices the look on your face, he winces. “Maybe you could bring it up with him?”

Damn right you fucking will.

There’s a pinch between James’ brows when you continue your assignment. You’re too lost in your head, brewing over Rhysand and how he forced you to pretend to be his girlfriend the other night and the fact that he told his entire team to keep away from you. It’s embarrassing to say the least.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t notice that you’ve pulled the tape too tight around James’ arm. He’s trying to stick a finger under your work, tugging at the bandage to get his blood flowing again. You huff and begin to unwrap, letting the news fall off your shoulders for now with a heavy exhale. “Sorry,” you mutter.

A twinge of guilt hits you. Here you are, dragging poor James into another awkward position that has nothing to do with him and everything to do with his pig-headed captain.

You have half a mind to tug your phone out of your pocket and send chew Rhys out over text. He’d given his number to you after your first tutoring session so that you could set up the next one since you were in much too of a mood after running into Amarantha and giving you the ultimatum that made your view of him go from hot and gentlemanly to hot and an absolute fucking douchebag.

And this has certainly not helped his case.

It doesn’t take long to make up a plan for yourself. You’re going to stay far, far away from the hockey house from now on. You won’t be attending any more games, no matter how much Mor begs. And you’re going to email your psychology professor about finding a replacement tutor.

If Rhysand doesn’t want you around his team, you’ll make sure that the message was well received.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m distracting you,” James says, and before you can respond, he holds a hand up, halting you. It looks silly because his hand is wrapped stiffly with your handiwork, and the both of you crack smiles at the sight.

“How does it feel now?” You ask, examining his arm. It looks good, and as you poke a prod, you think it’s tight enough, but you want a second opinion before your professor comes over to evaluate.

James twists his arm this way and that, tries to bend his wrist to feel the tension. He looks impressed, and a surge of pride overtakes the lingering irritation. “Feels good. You’re a natural at this.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thanks, James.”

Professor Maeve makes her rounds, and echoes a job well done when she reaches your table. With a soft smile, she continues to the crimson witch beside you, and you try your very best to keep your face neutral when the professor critiques her work. You tuck your lips carefully between your teeth and switch positions with your partner.

“You know,” James says as he begins wrapping your wrist. “The hockey team’s athletic training student graduated last year and the positions open. I don’t have much sway with the coach, but if you want it, I can put in a good word for you.”

He says it like it’s no big deal. Like you haven’t been banned from interacting with any of the hockey players. Like they haven’t been warned away either.

You stare at James in confusion, until he lifts his head, and you notice the cheeky grin on his face, the glint in his amber eyes. If you’re willing to play with the captain a little bit, he’ll take your side.

And fuck do you want to stick it to Rhys right about now.

“I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all week, James.”

“You know it.”

You come out of your psychology quiz feeling light.

You may not have scored a perfect hundred, but you have a feeling that you did a lot better than you have been doing thus far in the semester, and reluctantly, you have Rhysand to thank for it.

The both of you had spent Wednesday night studying in the library. You hadn’t brought up the ban, much too tired to deal with him more than you had to. He’d shot you a look of confusion when you immediately tucked into his notes and study guides without an utterance of a sarcastic remark. It had been the longest day of the semester so far, as you played catch up in psych while he worked on a paper for an astronomy class he was taking as an elective.

You don’t know what surprised you more, that he’s as nearly as good with astronomy from what you’d read of his paper, or how he managed to stay so on top of everything in his life. He’s an excellent student, excelling in all his classes, whilst being caption of the hockey team, and a tutor? You don’t know how he finds the time for all of it, because just the idea of adding anything more into your courseload this semester makes you want to melt into the floor.

But you will be, because you’re determined for the spot as the hockey teams athletic training intern.

Rhysand doesn’t have a clue, and it takes more effort than you thought it would not to blurt it out just to see the look on his face. James has been a tremendous help, setting a meeting time with his coach to meet with you at the beginning of next week. Apparently, coach Devlin cares a lot about his team. He might be harsh on you at first, James had advised, but he’ll warm up to you quickly. I think everyone will.

And well, you didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Hi honey,” your mom greets when you call her on your way back from class. It’s a brisk day on campus, and you’re cuddled in a bright orange sweater because it was the least you could do to celebrate Halloween. Students all around are either dressed to the T or in their normal garb, saving their costumes for when the night falls and they can really show out.

“Hi, mom,” you respond, biting back a laugh at a particularly funny costume. It’s one of those blow-up ones that you’re sure would not be a fan favorite in a lecture of a hundred students. It’s shaped like an alien stealing a poor human, and you’re thankful you don’t have any classes with him because sitting behind that would not be fun.

You wonder if he might be in Rhysand’s astronomy class, and debate snapping a photo to send his way, questioning his stance on aliens.

“How are you? How are classes going?”

“Good, mom, everything’s good,” you say, and it’s almost the truth.

Your mother keeps a very busy schedule and has since you were twelve, when your father suddenly passed. As her way of coping, she threw herself into her work, giving it more than 110%, and in return, she was promoted. Now, she spends most of the year traveling across the country to visit and meet with different suppliers for her company.

Usually, you’re fine with it, because she’s trying her best and you’re in college, but when you do have the rare time off for holidays and breaks, sometimes your schedules don’t quite align.

Which you know is the bad news about to come from the other side of the phone as soon she sighs heavily.

“What is it this time?” You grouse, and the good mood you’d been in after taking your quiz plummets. “No time off for parent’s weekend? No winter break this year?”

She says your name in a scolding manner. There’s a tinge of regret that you know she doesn’t expect you to pick up on, but it’s been the two of you for so long that you don’t even need to see her face to tell that she’s as sad as you are about the news. “It’s not Christmas. It’s Thanksgiving. They’re sending me over to London for a convention. I’d love for you to join me but—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you reply solemnly. “Not enough time off.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. But I promise I’ll see you for winter break. I’ll make it up to you then, and I’ll even pick you up from the airport personally.”

You have no doubt about that. Your mother spoils you, even if she isn’t the one doing the actual shopping. You love that she’s so important to her company and that she adores her job, it’s what you’re striving for too, but sometimes you wish she was around more, to give your life advice and rant to her about boys and class and anything. You spend more time talking to her voicemail than you do her.

“That sounds good.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. Tears sting the back of your eyes because you really were looking forward to seeing your mom. You haven’t seen her in months. She’d been halfway across the world when you left for college, and it had felt weird packing in your empty home and leaving it with one last longing look over your shoulder, with the memories of a happy family growing up there turned silent and eerie. “What do they have you doing instead?” You ask to be polite.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you pull the device away from your face to check the incoming message. You’re not really paying attention to your mother’s rambling anyway, and all you really want to do is hang up on her for the sour knot she’s unknowingly put in your stomach.

Rhysand: How did it go?

You ignore the warmth that fills your chilled veins at his thoughtfulness. You’d mentioned in passing when your quiz was, and you certainly didn’t expect him to remember this on top of all the other things he has going on in his busy schedule right now.

You: Pretty sure I aced that shit.

His response comes much faster than you expected it to, especially considering you know he’s about to walk into the arena for practice. You wonder if he’s going to dress up for the party at the hockey house Mor is dragging you to, or if he’s going to be sporting something lame like wearing his jersey.

Yes, you told yourself you wouldn’t step foot in that house again, but it’s Halloween, and Mor is way more persuasive than you ever gave her credit for.

Plus, if you’re near Rhysand, it’ll be much easier to get back at him for your ban.

Rhysand: Is that so?

You bite back your amusement, typing a reply.

You: So it may not have been a 100, but I’m pretty sure it was an 85% or higher.

Rhysand: Pretty sure? I guess we’ll have to study harder so next time you’re 100% sure you’ve aced it.

You don’t know why you like the sound of that so much, but his words are encouraging, a nice change from the way your mom’s shouting spills from your speaker, snapping you back to attention.

“Sorry, mom,” you apologize, “I just remembered that I’m late for a study group. I’ll see you for winter break, okay? I love you.”

She makes a noise that’s somewhere halfway between unimpressed and amused. “Okay sweetie. Study up and stay safe tonight, okay? Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween. Bye, mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, and you end the call, refocusing your attention on your phone.

You: Sounds like a plan, cap.

Rhysand: Cap? Not sure I like you calling me that, if I’m being honest.

You: Why? Because I’m not allowed to talk to hockey players? Which, by means that I shouldn’t be talking to you either, right?

You shouldn’t snap, especially since you’re going to have the pleasure of being around him and can chew him out tonight, but you can’t help yourself.

Rhysand: Ugh, I’m never going to live that down, am I?

You: Not a chance.

Rhysand: How about I make it up to you? You’re coming tonight, right?

He replies to his own message before you can even answer.

Rhysand: Of course you are. It’s going to be the hottest party on campus. Why did I bother asking?

You: WOW! This tops the cake on being full of yourself, I think.

You: But if you were wanting to make it up to me…what that might look like?

You don’t realize just how much you look like another one of his simpering conquests until you catch yourself in the reflection of the door to your dorm building. A cheesy smile on your face, head stuck in your phone, oblivious to everything around you.

Jesus, get it together, girl.

You mentally scold yourself, but when your phone buzzes again, all of that is lost to the ether, and you too, diving back into your phone.

Rhysand: It might look long and hard, around eight inches I’d guess.

You choke. Eight inches? There’s no way.

While you work out the schematics of how that works with anyone, Rhysand sends a follow up.

Rhysand: I can tell you’re thinking about it. If you ask nicely, I’d be more than happy to show you. ;)

You can’t help but scoff. Where does he get off? You’d ask, but you know he’d have another cheeky response to the question.

You can’t believe this is how he messages you. This is less than professional, but you have already felt his hard body beneath yours, and how nicely you fit under his arm. It’s not difficult to picture how he might be in bed.

But he’s sworn you off! And now he’s flirting with you like he didn’t enforce those laws when he caught you speaking to James at their last party.

This boy is making your head spin.

You punch the button to call the elevator, mulling over how to respond. Maybe no response is the best response? You can’t help but feel a little fuzzy at his sweet words, and the thought sours when you realize that he’s probably talking to a multitude of women the same way. You’re not sure you want to go to the party anymore by the time you reach your dorm, not even for your revenge, because there’s no way you want to see any other girls draped all over him all night, but when you open your door, you step into chaos.

The chaos being, your roommate Mor with costumes strewn about the living room, with a wild grin on her face and a tired looking Gwyn trying to hide beneath a pile of fabric on the couch.

“Happy Halloween, bitch! It’s party time!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @itsinherited

[multific]

Injury

Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion has a strong affection towards you, so when you get badly hurt during a mission, he is mad.

You woke to his yelling.

He was angry, perhaps beyond angry.

You heard him yelling and even stomping his feet. The others were dead silent. You assumed no one dared to speak up to the very annoyed vampire.

You were hurt, you went out with the team, assuring your Lover that you would be okay, but due to some unforeseen circumstances, you were hurt rather badly.

He was on his way back to your camp when he smelled the blood. Too much blood for his liking.

And he knew that sweet tint, a signature if you will, to confirm that indeed, the blood was yours.

And he saw red.

He stormed in and demanded an explanation.

You were badly cut during a surprise attack from a goblin. A cut deep and painful.

They tried to heal you with any potion, or magic they had but all failed. It was believed the sword which cut you was of a special material.

So, you were bound to bed.

And not long after you fell asleep, you heard the yells of your Love. He was angry and rightfully so.

You wanted to call out to him, tell him to come to you and hug you, help you sleep, but you couldn't, you were too weak.

Soon, you heard the entrance of the tent being moved and a warm presence filled your room.

You felt already a lot better.

And when your eyes met Astarion's beautiful ones, you moved your hand for him to hold. He sat down next to you on the floor and held your hand gently.

"My Darling, I am so sorry. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts." you replied weakly.

"I smelled the blood... I was so scared, Love."

"I'm so sorry for making you worry." 

"Then never leave my side ever again." you wanted to laugh but your side hurt too bad, so you only smiled.

"It will leave a scar." you let out a sigh.

"A scar is the last thing I worry about. Your well-being is much more important." he leaned over and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'll let you sleep now."

"Don't leave." you said as you grabbed his sleeve. 

"I'm not going to. I'll stay here with you, I just think you should sleep." you watched as he got into more comfortable clothing, which for him means only a pair of pants and he soon laid down beside you.

You slowly moved closer to him as your back met with his front and his arms moved to hold you even closer.

"I promise, I will never go out without you. It was stupid and I nearly died. I don't want to die." you felt his hand shake a little upon your confession.

"I don't want you to die either, My Sweet." there was a moment of silence, during which you felt as if he wanted to say something more. "I told you I would be able to turn you."

"I don't have enough blood in me to have this conversation, Astarion. And we talked about this before."

"I know. I'm just scared to lose you."

"I'm too stubborn to die, you know that." you felt him smile into your neck.

"Sleep now." he said and you had no objections.

Maybe one day, you will become a vampire. Maybe one day, you can make the promise of forever to each other and truly mean forever.

But you weren't ready just yet.

And until the day comes, you are going to enjoy every second with him. Because even if you are injured due to your own fault, he still held onto you so sweetly, he still kissed your hair with such admiration and love.

You were going to enjoy every second for now, before your forever with him starts.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[imnotaacat]

I Can See You.

Anthony Bridgerton x fem reader.

— Summary: Anthony and you have similar stories, and maybe that's why you connected so quickly, some will say it was the circumstances, despite not romantically seeing each other, little by little that will change. Without you realizing it, a love story begins to weave between you, very slowly.

— Warnings: Angst, mention of Death, death, Little fluff, no use of Y/n. (I think that's all)

A/n: English is not my native language, sorry if something is written wrong, I hope everything can be understood. :)

As Viscount of the Bridgerton family, Anthony was forced to attend all the balls this season accompanying his younger sisters, Eloise and Francesca. This gave rise to his mother, Lady Bridgerton, in addition to finding husbands for her daughters and introducing him to several of the debutante girls that seemed suitable for her son. Since they were children, Violet expressed to her children her wishes for them to marry for love, not for the benefit of one or the other, like her and Edmund; however, that illusion for Anthony had ended since his father died and he was left as Viscount and head of the family, he saw how his mother suffered for the loss of his father.

At the beginning of the season, Anthony had warned his mother that he would marry this season, a woman who is nice, who is good company, he would have his children, he would continue with the Bridgerton line of succession, and that perhaps over time he would fall in love with her. Violet tried to convince her son to get that idea out of his head and take the time to meet the girl he would spend the rest of his life with, however, her son ended the conversation by refusing what his mother was asking of him. But Violet would not give up so quickly, she would give her son his space, of course, but she would continue to introduce him to some other girl, Anthony was aware of that, but he hoped his mother would not insist so much this time. After dealing with Eloise a bit, the Bridgerton family, except for the younger siblings, headed to Lady Danbury's Season Opening Ball.

As they walked towards the entrance, Francesca was on Anthony's arm, Eloise was on Benedict's, and Violet was on Colin's. Violet advised her two daughters, as well as reprimanded the jokes her sons made, once at the entrance, all eyes turned to them, all the girls, went to the three Bridgerton brothers, quickly greeted them, and extended their dance cards towards them, and how could they not? The Bridgertons were one of the most respected families the girls who managed to win the hearts of these brothers would be the luckiest, and how not to mention how handsome the three of them were. Once settled in the living room, Violet was talking to the boys who asked her daughters for a dance, while Eloise moved the boys away, Francesca who was a little shy had agreed to dance with two boys, although she had not been attracted to any of them. Violet didn't want to pressure any of her daughters, or sons, she had done it with Daphne and even though Daphne was now happy with the Duke of Hastings, the road was a little hard, she didn't want to make the same mistake with her other children.

Anthony who had managed to avoid his mother a little, was now trying to continue the conversation with a girl, he didn't even know what she was talking about, so he simply nodded or smiled with her from time to time, the only thing he knew was that he would kill his brothers when he returned home, they had gotten him into this, out of the corner of his eye he could see them approaching him, notoriously mocking him, once close Benedict spoke.

"Brother, miss" He greeted. "I'm very sorry to interrupt your conversation, however, our mother needs our older brother," Benedict said to both of them, especially to the girl.

"Oh, I'm so sorry miss-" he didn't even remember her name "But I must go, as you heard my brother, my mother needs me." The girl nodded with a smile that Anthony returned, once he turned around the smile disappeared.

“Thank you for saving me, but I will kill you both once we get home,” Anthony said to his younger brothers who continued to make fun of him. Once reunited with their mother again, he heard Eloise insisting their mother go home, arguing that Francesca must be very tired after dancing with the two boys.

“We will leave until you dance with someone,” Violet said, to which Eloise responded with a shocked face, her older brothers began to make jokes to Eloise, about Violet's response, Violet simply shook her head and repeated to herself what she would do with her children. “This goes for you too Anthony” Violet said, Anthony quickly turned to see his mother, with a shocked face.

“But I have already danced with a mother… It was not pleasant but I have done it.” Violet shook her head. “You must excuse me Anthony, but I have not been able to see you.” His younger brothers made fun of him, he was going to kill them when he got home.

“My dear, your father told me that they have not yet met the Bridgertons, one of the best families in London” You shook your head a little tired. “I promise I will leave you alone for the rest of the evening, once you meet them.” You smiled and took Lady Danbury's arm to walk with her, your father walked behind you. After going around the great hall, you approached a family, you saw the three gentlemen who whispered something to each other and tried to run away.

“Stop gentlemen,” Lady Danbury said raising her cane. “I have seen you, do you not think it is disrespectful not to greet your hostess?” The three gentlemen turned back to you.

“Lady Danbury!” They all said at the same time, which made you laugh a little, with your right hand you covered your mouth so that your laughter could not be heard, however, one of them noticed it.

“Lord Bridgerton, Lady Bridgerton, let me introduce you to Mr. Rothschild and his daughter Miss Rothschild.” Your father, like you, made a small bow towards them.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Lady Bridgerton said, your father nodded. “What brings you here, to visit London?” You asked. Both your father and you exchanged a glance.

“Well, Lady Danbury invited us to this grand event, and coming from her, we definitely couldn’t miss it.” Your father replied with a smile. A small laugh came out of your mouth, earning a glare from the Viscount again.

“I apologize for my manners.” You said. The reality is that they came to find suitors for you, after having scared away almost all of your suitors in Switzerland, there were very few left who were still interested in you.

“Don’t worry, my dear, but please allow me to introduce you to my three eldest sons.” Violet said. “My eldest son, Lord Bridgerton, Anthony.” He bowed slightly to you. “My second son, Benedict, my third son, Colin, my youngest daughters, Eloise and Francesca.” Anthony’s action was repeated with the younger siblings, a small bow to you.

“It's a pleasure to meet you all,” you said, the others nodded. Then they went into a wide conversation about suitors of all kinds, advice that Violet, Agatha, and your father gave to all of you, to find your perfect partner. Although from all that, the jokes of the Bridgerton brothers stood out, as well as your attempts to keep the three brothers away from you.

“This is not a place for a lady to be alone,” a voice spoke behind you.

“Lord Bridgerton,” you said while making a small bow. “Oh don't worry about that, my father is nearby,” you pointed behind you, Anthony turned to look in that direction, and once he located your father he greeted him.

“Have you enjoyed the evening?” he asked.

“Of course, it was an excellent evening… although I would have preferred that Lady Danbury not introduce me to every man in front of her.” You said with a smile, Anthony smiled too.

“Well, I think we have the same problem, my mother also introduces me to every young man that seems right for me.” You smiled. Both of you fell silent.

“Why doesn’t she want to get married?” You asked. There was a short silence.

“My mother always told my brothers and me to marry someone for true love…” He was silent for a few seconds. “But when my father died, I could see how she suffered with his death, she lost the love of her life… So I just want to get along with my future wife, have a cordial relationship, one that deserves to be called Lady Bridgerton.” Anthony was surprised by how honest he was with you, since his father’s death he had never shared how he felt with anyone.

“I understand… my mother died when I was very young, and everything I remember about her is starting to disappear, my father has been my everything… but I have always noticed the sadness he carries with him since my mother passed away.” You turned to look at Anthony, who was listening attentively. Another silence arose again.

“And why don’t you want to get married? I noticed your attempts to keep me and my brothers away,” Anthony asked, you laughed, and he smiled at you.

“Well, the same thing happens to me as to you, I have seen since I was a child the suffering of my father at the loss of my mother, so I have never been a fan of marriage, I have driven away all my suitors in Switzerland…” You smiled. “However, I must get married.” Anthony noticed the change in your mood.

“I suppose your father wants his daughter to have a good life.” He said to comfort you.

“Of course… but the interest of my suitors is different… it is for a fortune.” You said.

“The dowry?” He asked incredulously. You laughed.

“As you know, I am his only daughter, so my father a few years ago made an arrangement in which when he dies I can inherit all his assets… he does not want any relative to take it, most are gamblers… but to access the inheritance I must be married, so most of my suitors go after that inheritance.” Anthony looked at you surprised, he had never heard of a father doing something like that, and less with a daughter specifically. You noticed the surprise on his face. “I guess you’re wondering how my father managed it.” He nodded. “He got his most influential friends to vote in his favor, promising them that I would marry one of his children… however, I have managed to displease them, but unfortunately for me, they are still after that inheritance, so they won’t leave me alone.” You both laughed. A pleasant silence arose again.

“My dear, we must return… Lady Danbury must be looking for us,” your father said behind you, both of you turned to see him. “Lord Bridgerton,” he greeted Anthony.

“Mr. Rothschild,” Anthony greeted. “If you allow me, I can accompany your daughter to the hall.” Your father nodded. “Miss Rothschild,” Anthony said, offering you his arm. You nodded and took his arm, beginning the short walk. Your father walked behind you, leaving a small distance.

“I have an idea.” Anthony spoke, breaking the silence, you turned to look at him. “Lady Danbury and my mother want the same thing, that you and I have at least one dance tonight.” You nodded. “Why don’t we give them what they want?” he asked.

“Do you want us to have a dance together?” You asked, he nodded. A part of you wanted to reject the offer, Mr. Bridgerton was a stranger, however, you had talked to him more than you had talked to another man in a long time. “It will only be one dance, right?” You told him with a smile. Before entering the room Anthony asked your father if he could have a dance with you. He happily accepted, and you smiled at his happy face.

The doors of that room opened, and all eyes turned to you. Including those of the Bridgerton family and Lady Danbury. Anthony led you to the center of the dance floor, while your father met with the Bridgerton family. The musicians began to play the waltz, this was one of the most intimate dances of the night. You and Anthony began to spin around the dance floor, everyone's eyes fixed on you. Neither of you said anything, your bodies moved in sync with the music. Once the dance was over, everyone present applauded, Anthony gave you his arm to walk next to him, and as you approached his family and your father, you could notice the big smile on his lips, you couldn't help but smile too.

“This will appear on Whistledown tomorrow.” Eloise spoke, followed by a scolding from her mother.

“Whistledown?” You asked.

“Don't worry darling, it's nothing,” Violet answered with a smile.

As expected, the next day, Lady Danbury's hall was full of suitors who came to court you, some brought flowers and others very pretty jewelry. However, you only expected to see one, Lord Anthony Bridgerton. However, he didn't come, and you didn't feel attracted to him, however, his company the night of the ball was charming, and he gave you a confidence that you hadn't felt with anyone else. You wanted him to be your friend and if you could choose him as your future husband, he would be your first choice, however, five days had already passed since the ball, and there were two days left until your father and you left for Switzerland again, every day you waited for Anthony to arrive, however, you never saw him in any of the long lines you saw since the beginning of the day. And no man caught your attention enough either, but you knew that at this point you could no longer choose or wait to find the right one, your father had had a relapse with his illness two days before, so they had to advance his departure date, but you knew that Lady Danbury would not let you go but not before choosing your fiancé.

The last day of your stay in London had arrived, and after that day at the ball, you hadn't seen Anthony, you started to believe that maybe he was just an angel, an angel that your mother had sent to take away some of your sorrows, and you were grateful for it and you always will be, he was an angel in your life.

From the beginning of the day your father and Lady Danbury were giving you the names of the suitors that they had thought were right for you, you still had the option to choose him, however, the two of them were starting to get desperate, because you didn't choose any and your father started with the threats of choosing him himself.

“Come on dear, of all the suitors that came, none of them made you feel anything?” Lady Danbury asked in a flirtatious tone. You shook your head and sighed, you were about to choose Baron Larrey, he was French, came from a good family, and at least from what you could see he was sweet and kind, and he was young, there was not much age difference between you, but a voice interrupted your conversation.

“Lady Danbury, Lord Anthony Bridgerton, accompanied by his mother Lady Bridgerton.” The housekeeper announced, and two minutes later the two entered the room where you were.

“Lady Danbury, Mr. Rothschild, Miss Rothschild” They both greeted with a small smile followed by a small bow.

“Lord Bridgerton” You greeted with a smile on your face.

“Miss Rothschild.” Anthony greeted me with the same smile as you. “I wanted to invite you for a walk in the gardens.” Anthony said leaving a small pause. “If your father allows me of course, you can even accompany my mother.” He said now looking at your father and Lady Bridgerton.

Your father gladly agreed, however, he preferred to stay inside, because of his illness he couldn't get too excited, not even with a short walk, adding that winter was coming to London and the next day his return trip began, he had to save energy.

You took your cloak to begin the walk, both Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton walked behind you, leaving a convenient distance, so that you had a little privacy, but not without losing sight of them. Both Anthony and you were silent for most of the walk, you shared some other comment about the flowers, the trees, or some other bird that crossed your path, but both enjoyed the silence between you, there was peace, there was trust, there was brotherhood, there was complicity. A few meters before you reached the entrance of the home Anthony broke the silence.

"You and your father have something to do tomorrow, my mother and I would be honored to receive you in our house." Anthony said with a smile. A short silence fell, leaving the question hanging in the air.

“I'm afraid that won't be possible, Lord Bridgerton.” You answered, looking at the ground. “My father and I are returning to Switzerland tomorrow.” Anthony looked at you, strange and confused.

“I thought you would stay longer…” Was the only thing Anthony managed to say after a few minutes.

“Me too… however, my father's cancer is getting worse, and he prefers to return to Switzerland. It's a relatively long trip, and with his condition, it will probably take us a little longer to get there.” You rebelled at Anthony, and he remained silent. What could he say to comfort you? That everything was okay? That your father would get better? He only gave you a nod, saying that everything would be okay, although you both knew that he didn't have much time left.

Once inside the house, Lady Danbury extended her invitation to the Bridgertons to stay for dinner, which they gladly accepted. Both you and your father felt at home as if after so much time you belonged to a family, you wanted to enjoy the evening, the conversation, the jokes, but in your brain, there was a constant reminder that from tomorrow it would only be you and your father, and a while later it would only be you.

Three months had passed after you had arrived in London and had met part of the Bridgerton family, for a month your father could no longer leave his room, the cancer in his bones was taking him little by little, so you could increasingly perceive the loneliness throughout the house, there were many memories throughout the house with your father, but little by little they began to be overshadowed by the word death.

Anthony and you had exchanged a few letters during that time, you talked about your desires to meet again, however due to the state your father was in you did not want to travel, and Anthony's duties for his title of Viscount never ended, so he could not travel either, so that meeting only remained in wishes or at least that was what you thought.

Both Violet and Benedict noticed Anthony's desire to be your company at this moment, to be the shoulder you could cry on and tell him all your troubles, they understood that until now the affection you felt was "philia", it was because in a certain way, your stories were similar and connected. So Benedict began to prepare to replace Anthony during the three weeks that his visit to Switzerland would last. When you saw them enter the living room of your house, a big smile appeared on your face, you could even confess that you shed a few tears too; even your father went out a few hours a day to attend to his guests, things that you would always be grateful for. During the first week, you and Anthony spent the whole time talking about any subject, numbers, history, or grammar, and there he noticed how well your father educated you, he knew that you would be one of the best "Lady" that any family could have, from there he began to consider the idea that you would be the new Lady Bridgerton, you would put him on high.

The second week was halfway through when your father had a relapse once again, and since then he had not left the room again, once the doctor evaluated him again he gave you the news that your father had no more than one or two weeks to live, the news destroyed you, and then there was both Anthony and his mother to comfort you.

On the second day of the third week, your father called you to his room, when you entered you saw him much better than the other days, he had a big smile on his face and his skin was no longer pale like before. You talked with him for a few hours, something you two hadn't been able to do for a while now, one reason he didn't leave his room anymore was that he didn't want you to see him in that state. After a while he convinced you to take Anthony and his mother to see the surroundings of the mansion, you refused, excusing that it was already very late and it was about to get dark and you preferred to stay a little longer with him, however, he convinced you saying that he wanted to rest a little and telling you that you shouldn't be rude to his guests, despite whatever you were going through, reluctantly you accepted and left his room after he lay down on his bed again, entering the living room with a smile and extending your invitation to accompany you for a walk to your guests, they couldn't refuse. Again silence accompanied your walk, sometimes there were small comments from Anthony or Violet, brief explanations from you in certain places where you walked, some memory or anecdote. Just as you told your father, it was already starting to get dark when you arrived back at the mansion, the silence it hit you, after hearing the trees, the birds returning to their nests, even the air. One of the servants picked up your and Violet's cloak and Anthony's coat, as you walked inside you noticed that the silence was different from the one there had been the days before, you knew what it meant, Anthony and his mother knew it too, just like you now, they knew that silence perfectly. You started running towards the stairs to the second level, to get to your father's room, your heart began to beat a thousand times an hour, those stairs had never seemed eternal and infinite to you as now, with Anthony and his mother running behind you, you reached the hallway of your father's room, you began to walk towards the door of his room, that hallway like the stairs had never seemed so infinite to you, a few steps before you could leave the room, the housekeeper came out of it and only with the look and the bow she made, you confirmed that your father had left this world. You entered into a kind of trance, very distantly you began to hear the footsteps of the servants running from one side to the other, you looked back and saw the understanding looks of Anthony and his mother, but behind them was a man who was telling you something, however, you could not hear very clearly what he was saying, you closed your eyes, you swallowed the sadness you felt, you could cry to your father later, you sighed and opened your eyes.

“Excuse me, I could not hear what you were saying to me, could you repeat it to me?” You asked to which the man nodded.

“Lady Rothschild” The man spoke, that fell on you like a bucket of cold water. “We need to take your father’s measurements to make his coffin.” He spoke. “We need to know who we should send the letters to to send them the news.”

“Of course, you must call your doctor first, I want him to be present when you take the measurements.” The man nodded. “Your closest friends and associates must know about the news…” You paused. “Your brothers…” You hesitated for a few seconds. “They must know too.” The man nodded, and after a small bow, he was about to leave when you spoke again. “Please, the family lawyer must be here, before my father’s brothers come, send a carriage to bring him.” The man nodded and then he left.

“Lord Bridgerton, Lady Bridgerton.” For a few seconds you forgot that they were there, you noticed how affected they were. “I apologize for this, I will ask the cook to prepare some tea, you can go to your rooms or the living room, I will not be able to accompany you, I must go to my father’s study…” You hesitated. “I must go to my study to catch up on my father’s business.” The two of them nodded slowly.

“Don’t worry, dear. If you need anything, we’ll be here to help you.” You nodded and then headed to the other end of the mansion, where your late father’s study was. He believed that being away, he could forget about his business matters so he could give his attention to his little daughter.

Both Violet and Anthony admired the way you carried this moment, it seemed like a perfectly rehearsed play. There was not a single trace of tears or sadness on your face, there was no doubt or sadness in your voice, it was serene, and you transmitted confidence, giving orders to the maids and when receiving the condolences of your father’s friends, how you thanked them for being there.

These types of things, being unexpected, took a little time to be done or announced, for this reason, the funerals did not begin until the night or day after the person died; as in this case.

It was starting to get dark, you and Anthony were talking a few meters away from the room where everyone was, until this moment you were able to vent a little of what you felt, Anthony listened to you attentively.

"I admire the way you handle all this," Anthony said. "It was the way I should have acted when my father died too."

"Anthony, you must think that the context is different, I am 24 years old, you were 19 at that time, and my father prepared me all my life for this moment, in your case, your father's death was unexpected. Also, you should not compare yourself with anyone, we all act in different ways." You gave him a small smile. Anthony was about to answer you, when they began to hear that the murmurs were gradually getting louder, this generated curiosity between Anthony and you, so you approached to see what was happening, quickly you could see three of your "uncles" asking about you. Anthony quickly noticed how your demeanor changed again, to a rigid one, one that conveyed self-confidence, your face once again became serious.

“Dear niece, we are sorry for the loss of our brother…” The eldest brother spoke, and you murmured a low thank you. “But we also need to know when the reading of the will will be.” He said indifferently, your father warned you that this would happen this way.

“If you wish, it can be right now.” You answered with a somewhat friendly and even innocent tone, you called your father's lawyer, who was in charge of this. You could notice a big smile on the faces of the three brothers.

“Very well…” The lawyer paused as he took the envelope. “Zurich, January 8, 1814…” He began to read the will, you noticed how the smiles of the three brothers began to diminish as the lawyer read the will. Once the will was read, the three of them began to refuse, claiming that this could not be fulfilled because you were a woman. Your father's friends quickly jumped to your defense, but one of them was smart and noticed something that the others didn't.

“She doesn't wear a ring, so she's not married, she can't claim anything.” He shouted, pointing at your right hand. Everyone turned to look at you. How had you not thought of that? How had you forgotten something as important as this? Anthony noticed the fear and nervousness in you, then he spoke up.

“She hasn’t worn a ring, because I haven’t been able to give it to her before. I planned to ask for her hand after her father’s burial, who permitted me to marry her, with my mother Lady Bridgerton, and Miss Ashton, her housekeeper, as witnesses. However, thanks to you all, it won’t be a surprise.” You looked at Anthony in surprise. Then you saw him kneel in front of you. “Miss Rothschild, will you marry me? To form a family where the foundation of this is love and unconditional support.” Your father’s friends smiled at this scene, some applauded, you slowly nodded, then said yes with a smile. Anthony smiled back at you, putting the ring on your right ring finger. Seeing your father’s brothers again, anger took over their faces, with a dramatic turn and heavy steps they quickly left the room. The rest of the people present congratulated you and Anthony, with hugs and wished you the best.

In the afternoon of the next day, after the mass, tribute, and burial of your father, you returned home, you felt exhausted, the mix of so many emotions in a few days was beginning to affect you, and you needed to rest.

“I appreciate that you are here, I don’t know what would have become of me without you.” You said to Anthony and his mother.

“Don’t worry dear, the pain of losing a loved one never completely goes away, but you don’t have to face it alone. We will be there for you, today and always.” Violet replied, during the time you had lived together, you had noticed how Violet always had the right words for any situation.

“I’m going to my room, I need to rest. You should too, you need it.” The two of you nodded. Violet approached first, wrapping you in a warm hug before retreating to her room. Anthony did the same, but their hug lasted a few seconds longer. When they separated, he too began to walk towards his room.

“Anthony?” You called out to him before he could walk away completely. He turned to you again. “Can we talk now?” You asked in a soft tone. Anthony nodded and walked back to you.

“What is it? Do you need anything?” He asked while watching you intently. You sighed and looked down at your hands, fiddling with the ring on your finger.

“I want to thank you for what you did… for the proposal. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to…” you began to take off your ring, but Anthony’s hands were quick to stop you.

“No… I want you to be the one to wear it. Out of all the women I know, you are the only one who is ready to wear this ring and the title of Lady Bridgerton. Please… I know there is no attraction between us now, but I have always thought that my wife should be someone like my best friend, and that is what you are to me. Maybe love will come with time, but… please marry me.”

“Are you sure?” You asked him still with a little doubt.

“Absolutely,” Anthony said with a small smile.

If anyone asked you, you would tell them that from that day, from that moment, you began to fall in love with Anthony. You wouldn't tell anyone, but from the moment you saw him run away from Lady Danbury, you knew that this was the man you wanted.

Anthony wouldn't tell anyone, but from the day he saw you walking arm in arm with Lady Danbury, he knew that you were the woman he needed.

After two more weeks, you were back in London with the Bridgertons, Violet and Anthony preferred to stay two more weeks with you to accompany you in your mourning and help you with whatever you needed with work to adapt to your new titles.

The news that the libertine Lord Bridgerton had returned engaged, hit all of London, the news spread quickly, and everyone wanted to meet the woman who had managed to change his mind. For his brothers, it was also a surprise, but they also knew that behind that rigid and libertine character, there was a man who wanted to love and be loved.

Unlike how you thought you would be alone after your father's death, you now had a new family, one that truly appreciated you and not just for the inheritance you possessed. Daphne and Eloise became your best friends and confidants. Benedict became your partner in pranks and mischief, Colin was the best company for a chat about countries of the world and history. Hyacinth and Gregory became your younger brothers.

You were writing and finding a new life, and among it, a new love story, forever.

I would also like you to give advice or recommendations. I hope it's not too long or boring. I would appreciate your comments. 💗

[auraisereigh]

"A Candle in the Dark”

Standalone

Fourth wing x f!reader Words: 2.4K Blurb: Request; I love your writing so much good job. Could I request a fic where y/n's birthday is reunification day and she is marked but her friends violet and rhinnaon throw a surprise party on the day for her birthday (yes they forgot its not on purpose and the whole thing would just escalate all that) ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Grief & loss, mild language, isolations, war aftermath.

Masterlist ☆ Star's story ☆ Support me ☆ Standalones

Reunification Day made people feel different things on the same day.

Some celebrated the ending of the rebellion led by Fen Riorson, deeming it worthy of a celebration and a party — a holiday to become drunk and make the most of the day so many people died.

Others mourned lost family or friends. For these people, this day is dark. They watch other people celebrate the loss of one's family. One's friends.

For me, this day makes me feel a bit of both. I suppose that's what you get when you're born on the first of July.

Before the rebellion, this was my day to celebrate — a happy day with cake and gifts and just being close to those I loved. Celebrating with the ones that mattered the most.

Now this day feels just as dark as an endless night sky. One with no stars to light the way. I lost my whole family on this day and now I'm just supposed to celebrate it?

It feels wrong. Way too wrong. It feels like I'm stabbing the dead in their skeletal backs. With a knife that cuts through bone.

I look at the clock on my nightstand, ticking excruciatingly slow to five a.m.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. The sound consumes my ears, and I'm tempted to throw the clock to the other side of the room.

I had been staring at it since the clock tipped past midnight. Every minute felt like an eternity. With another glare at it, the little pointer tips pass by the five a.m. mark. With a deep sigh, I remove the sheets that kept me somewhat warm during the night and step out of my bed — the cold breeze from my open window leaves goosebumps on my skin and the hair on my arms raises as the cold of the morning, that feels like death, sweeps inside.

My desk chair holds the clothes I laid out last night, neat and carefully chosen. I clean up quickly in the bathrooms before I dress in a pair of clean black leathers with a comfortable hoodie on top. At the beginning of July it's always extremely hot here at Basgiath, yet, I preferred to blend in, in every way I can. Especially on this day.

The day would resume as any other; classes would go on in their normal order. The only difference is that at night there would be a ball hosted in celebration of what Navarre defeated.

I arrive just in time for breakfast to sneak in some last-minute snacks on my plate. I make my way over to the table of my squad. Violet, Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Liam are already seated at the table, and Sawyer is walking a behind me, getting his own food. Silently, I sit down next to Liam, the sweet boy giving me a small smile despite the grief I know he feels — just like me, he lost his family on this day and his sister isn't here either. They haven't seen one another in years.

My heart mourns for him.

He leans sideways toward me to whisper in my ear, “Happy birthday, sweet girl.” I give him a small, almost unnoticeable nod in response. What do you reply to that? ‘Thank you and, hey, I’m sorry about your family’?

I like to think that I’m not that rude.

He doesn’t press my non-verbal response. He turns back to his plate just as Sawyer places his plate next to mine and takes a seat on the wooden chair. None of them say anything else as we eat in quiet. This day messes with people. Some don’t dare to say anything at all in fear of saying something wrong to anyone.

It shouldn’t bother me. They don’t have to tell me ‘happy birthday’. They’re not forced to say that, but still, it would be so nice to hear it — even just one more person. Just to feel cared for. Once. I know that the day is horrible and that a good portion of the quadrant doesn’t even celebrate Reunification Day because they disagree with the reason.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay. A tremble appears in my hand and I clench it to stop.

In the far corner of my eye, I see Garrick and Xaden look my way — Bodhi, who stands next to their table, looks my way once he figures out he lost both men’s focus. He offers me a small smile I make no effort to return before finishing my plate.

----------

By the time classes are over, the energy has been drained from my body and the dark clouds have erased the sun and its light — the brightness of the day gone in a fingersnap.

Everyone either makes their way around the college, getting some extra training in, maybe some extra food despite that the celebration later tonight that will no doubt have enough food to feed everyone untill their stomach is full celebrating the dead. Others just go to their rooms to get some extra rest or to start dressing up already to make an impression on the high presence.

The general of the college, Lilith Sorrengail. Who doesn’t want to be in her favor?

I don’t. She’s scary as fuck. Don’t know how Brennan survived that.

General Melgren, our commander of the army, would be there too, and… of course, the king — King Tauri — would make a special appearance to see those who would be the future of the Navarrian army. To me, in reality, he’s also here to keep an eye on the marked ones. Everyone knows that every single year they look at Xaden. The betrayer’s son. Its so obvious.

The black dress I’d chosen for tonight is made of a silk material with lace over it in flower patterns. The black corset hugs every curve just right and the skirt flows like magic — the dress doesn’t touch the ground and it shows off the boots I had cleaned for this special occasion. The long sleeves are formal and clean; it hides the relic I was given but shows off a sense of authority even if I’m just a cadet.

If I could, I would have probably chosen a prettier color for the dress but black was a must. A red would have been pretty. Or maybe a lilac color, a muted pastel purple with a sweetheart neckline and lace sleeves that fall over my arms but don’t cover everything. The skirt could have been long in the back but shorter in the front. Maybe a panty with a flower pattern could have been nice. Bold and edgy but still elegant.

I let out a deep sigh as I pull at the strings of my corset — tighter, much tighter. This whole day sucks. Year after year, I tell myself that it’s okay and that I can learn to still celebrate my birthday without needing to feel the grief. Or I could move my birthday by one day — still close enough to the actual date but still respectful of the dead. Yet, year after year, I’m reminded that trying is useless because everyone forgets it. Well, almost everyone. Some remember. Most don’t. Most are occupied with their own grief and sorrow, but they don’t see how it suffocates me year after year. How i drown in the emptyness.

I tie the laces of my boots with a little more force than needed. My ankle might fall off one day if I keep it up.

A knock on my door brings me back to the present. I stand up with confusion written all over my face. I hadn’t really been social today. I kept more to myself than usual because I was so well aware of what day it was and no one ever really asked or visited me before the Reunification “ball.”

I open the door with pressed lips and a sour face to, hopefully, make the person behind my door run away.

“Happy birthday!”

My eyes widen and my body freezes at the screamed words that — with no doubt — the whole college heard.

My squad stands in front of my door. Violet, Ridoc, Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Liam are standing in my doorway with a small chocolate cake and a candle that has a small dancing flame on top.

“What…?” I mumble as I try to comprehend what just happened.

“Happy birthday,” Violet says again in a sweet and genuine tone. My eyes drift over to Liam’s blue ones, who has that sheepish smile on his face that explains it all.

“It’s really the work of a brooding shadow man,” Liam shoots me a knowing grin as he continues, “knife to throat and all.”

I snort with a smile and my squad’s smiles brighten when they hear mine. I open the door completely for them as they walk into my room — Liam, for a moment, stops by my side and hands me an envelope that has my name on it with Xaden’s perfect writing, though the back does say,

“Xaden, Bodhi

and Garrick”

I mouth a thank you to Liam as Rhiannon places the small cake on my desk.

“Go on, birthday girl,” Ridoc grins as he gestures to the flaming candle with flair.

I can’t suppress my smile as I walk to my desk and crouch in front of it so i'm eye level with it.

“Don’t forget a wish,” I hear Sawyer say softly, and I close my eyes for a split second to think of a wish before I blow the candle out with a soft blow.

The flame turns into a grey smoke that reminds me all too well of other moments in the past but I erase them from my mind. This is different. This is happy.

I stare at the smoke that disappears into thin air with a small, soft smile tugging at my lips.

I’m shaken from my thoughts as Violet places a slightly bigger plate under the adorable cake and places a fork next to it.

“Go ahead,” she urges. “It’s your cake. Eat it,” she adds with a smile.

After a moment, I sit cross-legged on my desk as I use the fork to cut a small piece from the cake to taste it. My eyes practically roll back at the sweet, luxurious taste of the cake. It’s deeply flavoured. So rich it almost reminds me of home.

They all look at me with anticipation and a smile.

“It’s really good cake,” I confirm with a smile.

Rhiannon lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Good, we had to send someone else to get it and he looked so clueless,” she laughs softly.

I don’t even have to think when I look at Liam.

“Bodhi,” we both say at the same time, and the whole group falls into laughter.

After a moment the laughter fades into a comfortable quiet. Not awkward or sad but content.

I cut the cake into a few small slices and I hand everyone a slice of the delicious cake.

Ridoc groans loudly as he takes a bite of the cake. “This is so fucking good,” he says with a satisfied face. I chuckle softly at my squad.

This is nice.

My squad remembered — even if they only did because of Liam. They still took the time to get something to make it feel special. To get this delicious cake. For me.

We all finish the cake with occasional small talk and a few laughs before Liam takes my elbow.

“I need you for a moment,” he whispers. I look at him with furrowed brows but he just flashes me a mischievous smile.

Once we’re in the hallway, he places one hand over my eyes.

“I hate surprises,” I mumble under my breath.

Liam chuckles softly as he says into my ear, “You’ll like this one.”

I hum in acknowledgement as he guides me through the halls I’ve become familiar with in the last few months. I try to count the turns we take to have an idea of where we’re going, but eventually I lose count.

A windy breeze, slightly cold, whips my hair sideways. For July it’s still cold at night. The days might be incredibly — sometimes unbearably — hot, but the nights cool down as if we’re in the middle of winter, as if white, delicate snow petals are still falling.

His hand falls away and my eyes open to the dark night with a sky filled with twinkling stars.

Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi sit on a stone near a cliff edge. I make my way over to them with light steps against the ground, Liam close on my heels. I sit down next to Xaden on the ledge.

“Happy birthday,” he speaks up and Bodhi and Garrick follow with their own congrats.

I smile at them. “Thank you,” I whisper in the night air.

We stay quiet for what feels like the longest time when I feel a small tap against my wrist. Xaden is holding a small box that he tapped to my wrist. I take it from him.

It’s a simple square box with a small bow in a muted pastel blue color.

I unwrap the cute little bow and take the lid off to reveal a simple bracelet — the string is my favorite color and there are three charms that dangle on the bracelet — each a rune I recognize.

Protection. Healing. And a calming rune my mom always made when I couldn’t sleep.

I take the bracelet out with delicate fingers.

“It’s so pretty, Xay,” I whisper. “Thank you so much.” I look at him with soft eyes and I can see one corner of his lips rise just a tiny bit.

“You can thank Trissa for the runes and Brennan for the packaging and sending it here,” he answers as if it was nothing.

“You can thank them from me — as long as you also take some credit,” I smile as I put the bracelet on.

It’s stunning.

I hold both Liam’s and Xaden’s hands.

Even in darkness there is always some light.

And maybe for me, in this death college, this is my light. My squad and my friends. Family.

I look out over the cliff with a content smile.

Even if I have to go to this ball to celebrate what hurt me the most, I know I’ll do it with my loved ones by my side to help me through it.

♡

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

my friend rashid: a fic rec list

welcome back to iwtv fanfic friday! this week's theme was born out of my love for rashidmand, but of course i couldn't stop there, so i've included some featuring real rashid as well. on that note, if you're looking for a sign to write a fic featuring real rashid or rashidmand, THIS IS IT.

drawing in a subject by nestorius (e, 1.7k words)

Armand interrupts. (immediately post season one reveal, teensy bit character study, daniel's "inexplicable" desire for rashid. made for me in a lab)

a memo from human resources by nestorius (not rated, 2.5k words)

The pitfalls of having a vampire boss. (the real rashid prelude to above. his relationship with louis in this drives me wild. i still believe this is rashid's lore and you can't stop me.)

Live your role by Thunder__Puss (e, 1.5k words)

Louis and Armand bed down in the penthouse. Rashid overhears a bit more than he'd care to. (ARMAND PLAYING RASHID IN BED WITH LOUIS ... THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF)

honey and pineapple by duri (e, 3.5k words)

Rashid pays Daniel a visit. (hey girls did you know that uhmmmmm... armand wants daniel so bad. like OH MY GOD)

I like your getup, if you know what I mean by cannibalenthusiast (aka yours truly) (e, 1.7k words)

His brain conjures the image of Rashid standing primly with a plush towel draped over his slim wrist. “For your jizz, Mister Molloy,” he says. Daniel snorts and spits onto his hand. (sorry to be reccing my own work but it was my first one for the pairing and i'm proud of it ok? daniel jerks off thinking of rashidmand and rashidmand sort of unknowingly provides a helping hand. it's important to me)

Taking All That A Person Can Give by anonymous (e, 6k words)

Daniel fantasizes about "Rashid". Set during and after 1x05. (mind the tags on this one! daniel and armand both get tortured. sexually. awesome crazy work.)

honeysuckle sips from your rolling hips by ultraviolet_glow aka @lesbians4armand (m, 1.4k words)

It was the viscosity that got to him, Daniel thought. Something deeply obscene, sensual about the viscosity of honey compared to the viscosity of blood. Both were natural, bodily fluids, if you thought too hard about it. Thick and dripping and sweet. (YAAAAY more wet dreams for daniel!!! this is just one of many awesome rashidmand fics violet has written <3)

honey and pineapple by softestbutch aka @softest-butch (e, 1.8k words)

He’s thinking of you, Rashid. Louis felt Armand’s body flush at the use of the name. He ran the flat of his tongue over the wound in his neck, continuing to drink. Our boy. He wants you. (awesomeeee take on the 1.5 scene with a little bit of loumand as well. i can never get enough)

[afro-hispwriter]

My Dornish Love(3)

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Summary- you and aemond discover you have some common interests 

Warnings- mentions of poisoning, some sexual thoughts? 

ferronniere- a headband that circles that forehead and will usually have a gem of sorts in the middle(or plain depending on where)

wc- 2.3k

1 2

-

Aemond waited patiently in the Library. A plate of food and a cup was next to him and a book opened. Another plate was across from him as well as a cup. 

The doors pushed open and you came rushing in, starting one of the other maesters. You wore a vibrant violet dress that made Aemonds own violet eye widen. You looked absolutely gorgeous. And the ferronniere really tied it all together.

“Good morrow my prince, I’m sorry I’m late.” You say and pull a chair out and sit down.

“It's alright, and no need for formalities. You called me by my name all yesterday.” Aemond gave you a tiny smirk.

“Yes, but we were around people who don’t particularly care, here in the Keep it is best to keep up appearances.” You lifted your hands onto the table. “Can we eat? I'm hungry.” 

“No need to ask, my lady.” You didn’t have to get told twice as you grabbed the biscuit and took a bite. Aemond caught a glimpse of your hand and forearm and he shut the book. “What happened to you?” He pointed at your arms and you looked up at him.

“Oh, I'm alright, it's just me and Thea discovered how much cats don’t enjoy baths.” You laughed nervously.

“Your handmaiden could have done that for you.” He says bluntly. 

“It’s alright, I like getting my hands dirty.” 

“Hmm. I should get the maester to check them.” He pushes his chair back and you grab his wrist. 

“Nonsense, eat first.” He yanked his wrist out of your grip and you drew your hand back. 

“It can wait.” He walks past the table.

“No, it can’t, the first meal of the day is very important. Especially for a prince and swordsman such as yourself.” Aemond stopped in his tracks and his jaw tensed.

“They could get infected.” 

“I’ve been poisoned before, this is nothing.” Aemond turned around with a shocked look on his face. 

“Poisoned?” He sounded intrigued now.

“I can tell you about it if you sit back down and eat with me.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him and he sighed. Aemond made his way back around the table and sat down. He grabbed the grapes and popped two in his mouth. His actions satisfied you and you cut the sausages in pieces. “So when me and Deziel were younger, we snuck into the storage where they keep the poisons because we just wanted to see them, but Deziel being Deziel. He grabs manticore venom and the twat drops it on me. I scream and end up getting cut which lets the venom go into my body.” 

“How did your parents react?” You laughed and Aemond dipped his spoon into his oatmeal. 

“There was a panic, my body had already weakened by the time they retrieved the antidote. Deziel didn’t see the outside of his room for almost two months, my mother was so angry.” You hunched over in a laugh and Aemond let his face relax and smile. You had such a pretty laugh but then you stopped. Aemond’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion until he remembered.

“I'm sorry.” He says.

“It was a long time ago.” 

“And still fresh on your mind.” You huffed and leaned back.

“No need for all this sadness, this is about you so how is your morning so far?” Aemond took a sip of the contents of his cup.

“I trained with Ser Criston and visited Vhagar.”

“I’ve heard stories of how big she is.” Aemond watched a glint in your eye of interest.

“Would you like to see her?” You drew back and your eyes widened. 

“I don’t think that's wise.” He finished his last grapes and grabbed his spoon again. 

“And why's that, princess? Are you scared?” He looked at you mischievously and you frowned.

“Of course I'm scared, I've never seen a dragon, and what if she knows?” You pouted.

“Knows what?” You sighed.

“That I'm Dornish.” There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Then you heard it. A tiny little giggle and Aemond’s shoulder moved up and down. You frowned and scoffed. “It's not funny.” Your face burnt in embarrassment.

“What do you think Vhagar would do if she sensed you were Dornish? Eat you?” He asks and you shrug.

“Maybe! Dragons are smart, she fought in two wars against Dorne! My people had killed her own sister in arms.” Aemond kept an amusing look. “You’re mean.” You flicked a blueberry at him, hitting him in the cheek. 

“How unladylike of you.” You rolled your eyes. “But at least you know your history.” 

“Did you think I was stupid?” You cock your head. 

“Not at all, but not many ladies pride themselves on learning these things.” 

“Well, there's not much to do on Dorne rather than watch people fight to the death, drink, fuck, and eat. So I have picked up a book and I did pay attention in my classes.” You swirled the contents in your cup and swung a leg over the other.  

“Mmm. You should join me for a ride on Vhagar.” Your eyes widened in fear. 

“M-Maybe another time.” 

“Suit yourself, but I will still send you the proper attire.”

“The riding I know of requires no attire.” You cross your arms and pretend to be annoyed. Aemond let out an airy chuckle.

“In due time princess.” 

“Cute. Eat your food Prince Aemond.”

-

Breakfast was long finished. In the time after, Aemond asked you about Dorne. He wanted to know about it from a native's perspective. He also found joy in hearing you talk. 

“As you know it's always hot but here?” You laughed. “I actually had to cover up pretty decently last night but the sheets were quite scratchy, I thought there was a manticore crawling on me.” 

“You weren’t scared?” 

“I know how to extract their venom so they’re really nothing.” 

“Is it true you coat your weapons in venom?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“How do you do that?”

“To collect the venom we use vials and to hold the creature we would hold them with a large set of tweezers and a small set for the actual venom. For a manticore, the small tweezer would hold the stinger of the tail and you would just squeeze. Then we kill whatever it is and eat it.” 

Aemond grimaced at that. 

“What? They’re good, you should try one.” He chuckles at that.

“I am sure I will be alright without it.” You put your elbow on the table and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re going to try one.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I'm not easily persuaded.”

“We will see about that. Is there anything else you would like to know about, my prince?” You ask and the tips of your shows push against his boots. 

“No, I'm sure I have enough information to start a book of my own.” He says with amusement and you scoff.

“Hey! You could have asked me to stop at any time.” 

“A simple tease, I enjoy hearing your voice.” 

“Fancy me already?” 

“Is that a crime?” You shook your head and smiled. The edges of Aemond’s mouth curved up and he looked down. 

“How do you feel about the night sky?” You leaned forward. 

“I think it’s beautiful, when I ride Vhagar at night I try to get as close as possible to the stars.” There was a glint in his eye the second he mentioned Vhagar. 

“I have a book about it in my room, come with me?” You asked and stood up. You held a hand out to him and he pushed his chair back. He walked around the table and he grabbed your hand. 

-

The walk was short and no words were said between you too, but it was not awkward at all. Comforting even. 

You opened your chamber door and you let Aemonds hand go. He checked the hallways and when nobody passed he stepped through the door.  

You were already bending over to dig into a drawer. Aemond froze and his eye was trained on your ass. He was thankful he wasn’t like Aegon. 

“Here it is.” You hold up the brown book and show it to him. 

The Mysteries of the Sky by Maestor Elkin 

“He has traveled all over the world, he has even gone to The Wall and he reported on these bright lights in the sky.”  You say when you open the book to one of your saved pages.

“Fascinating.” Aemond stepped next to you, with hands behind his back, and skimmed over the page you were at.

“He doesn’t know exactly what causes them but he does believe it's the work of the gods. Can you believe if the gods do create what's in the sky, that they share their beautiful creations with us?” You wouldn’t see the smile on Aemond’s face as he solely looked at you.

“I do and they might be too generous at times.” 

“Hmm, I think they give us what we need.” You looked up at him by tilting your head back slightly with a smile. Aemonds heart started racing and his cheeks dusted pink.

“We should continue this back in the library.” Aemond starts walking towards your door when a white fluff walks in front of him. She passed along his boots and slid down onto her side. He crouched down and gave the cat some scratches making her purr.

“Or your room.” The cat hissed at you, still very mad about the events of earlier. Aemond looked over his shoulder and his eyes were met with the diamond that was pierced into your belly button. What he would do to just run his tongue along it.

Fuck that stupid (beautiful) dress

He stood up to his full height so he could tower over you.

“If someone catches us-.” 

“We are a very anticipated betrothal amongst many. I’m sure they will be more happy that we are getting along than mad that we were alone together.” Aemond couldn’t help but agree. 

“Follow me.” 

-

Aemond pushed the door open to his room and he stepped out of the way for you. You walked in and looked at all his furniture and all the paintings. 

“It's like everything I imagined. Dark but beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Aemond grabbed a book off his table and sat down in a chair and kicked his feet up on the small table. “Join me?” You gladly sat in the long chair next to his. 

“There is more Targaryen heraldry in your room than the rest of the keep.” The painting of a dragon setting ablaze to what seemed like Harrenhall caught your attention.

“That is what happens when the king grows ill and two devout members of the seven take over.” He cracked open his book. 

“How is the king? I have not seen him.” 

“Dying, slowly.” Aemond really should have said ‘too slowly’. 

“I can’t imagine wh-.”

“Not everyone has a relationship with their father as you do.” He cuts you off quickly. “A good one at least.” 

You decided not to push forward. 

“What are you reading?” 

“Political philosophy.” 

“Interesting.” You opened your book and kicked your flats off to lay down on the couch. A silence fell over, it was comfortable to an extent. There was a slight tension but you slowly forgot about it as you got deep into the book and your eyes slowly started to droop.

-

The book clattering on your chest made Aemond direct his attention to you. Book pages were folded on your chest. One hand on your chest and the other dangling. Your head was turned to the side and eyes shut. Aemond chuckled and stood up to a chest that held blankets. He grabbed the softest one and grabbed the book from your chest. It closed on the material of the dress and when he pulled it, the bottom of your breasts exposed themselves. 

“Fuck.” He turned away and his cock made a sudden throbbing sensation. Gods, he was acting like a boy again, the mere sight of a woman's body making him hard. He closed his eye and tried to think of anything else. 

He tossed the book on the table turned around and quickly splayed the blanket over your body. Aemond sat back in his chair and the material around his crotch down. Reading should make it go down.

-

You slept until the sun was almost gone. Aemond had finished a couple of chapters and did whatever else he needed to do. 

You sat up straight and rubbed your eyes. Aemond shifting caught your attention and you looked back. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled and swung your legs so your feet touched the floor. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re still tired from your trip. I should be the one apologizing for taking you out so quickly.” 

You yawned and stretched, a breeze hitting your nipples suddenly made you very aware that they had slipped out and Aemond had not taken his eyes off them. 

“If you wanted to see them, all you had to do was ask.” You teased tiredly and Aemond looked down at his now closed book. “I should get back, me and my brothers are going to see a play in the cities.” 

“Then I will see you later, princess.” You stood up and did a curtsy. Aemond frowned at your action but relaxed when you giggled. He even let himself laugh. He did this cute thing where when he laughed his head would shake slightly.

“I hope we continue these meetings, I think something good can come of this.” You say walking toward the door and Aemond stands up to open the door for you.

“I agree, I hope you enjoy the play.” He opens the door and you reach up to kiss his cheek. His face turned pink with affection. 

“See you tomorrow Aemond.”

You did not

-

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