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the20thangel · 3 months

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The Dragon and The Raven a Benjicot (davos) Blackwood x Targaryen Oc Fanfiction

Davos (Not Bloody Ben, but the fandom likes him) Blackwood has a hold of me! So I decided to FanCast the actor Kerian Burton as Benjicot in the fanfiction of Benjicot Blackwood/ OC Targaryen. I hope you all enjoy. (Can also be found on A03 under the same title.)

Disclaimer: I am rusty on my writing, so please, I ask for kindness when reading; remember, this is written in good fun, and because I am keeping hope, Kerian is brought back as an actual Benjicot!

Keep up with the story: masterlist

“House Blackwood and House Bracken have engaged each other, which is being called the first battle of the war, the Battle of Burning Mill.”

Stated Maester Gerardys as everyone in the throne room sat in tense silence, looking at their Queen. Queen Rhaenyra looked back at her council, knowing how at state this battle had come. The realm is officially at war, on one side, the Blacks and the other Greens. House Blackwood had declared for her, while Bracken for her usurper of a brother. On the other side of the war table stood Prince Jacaerys with his younger sister, Princess Aemma, while Jacaerys was born with brown hair and eyes. Aemma was graced with Velayron's white hair, although not as coily but with looser curls like her mother’s, with violet eyes and a slight tan to her skin. Her face was uncanny to her namesake, so much that her kingly grandsire wept when he first held her. She was the proof that her mother and father, Laenor Velayron, could produce heirs to the realm and dissuade any rumors from the greens… that was until her beloved brother Luke was born.

Aemma knew what this meant; if House Blackwood and Bracken had engaged, each declaring to be fighting for either faction, there was no turning back; war was here. Aemma snapped out of her thoughts to her mother, asking about the casualties.

“Both sides have suffered significant losses, my Queen. Samwell and Davos Blackwood, as well as Amos Bracken, have all fallen,” Gerardys explained, his voice carrying the weight of the news as he rummaged through his notes.

“Benjicot Blackwood, Davos’s Twin Brother, is now Lord of Raventree Hall, and he has reaffirmed his father’s and brother's claim of declaring as you Queen Rhaenyra, the true ruler of the seven kingdoms.”

“House Blackwood has excellent numbers for soldiers; this will benefit our cause, your Grace. Once Prince Daemon takes Harrenhall and has House Blackwood stationed there, the rest of the Riverlands will soon follow to showcase our true power to the greens.”

Aemma’s grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, stated as she entered the throne room. Rhaenys paused at Aemma to grace her with a smile and a quick hug before sitting beside her mother. Aemma noticed the lack of greeting towards her brother, remembering that she was their grandmother’s favorite among her mother's children. Most likely, it was due to looking the closest to Ser Laenor.

Nevertheless, Jace did not seem to notice, “We should thank them, Mother, to show them how much we appreciate their support,” exclaimed Jace before continuing. “I will go to Raventree hall personally, and -”

“No! No, Jace, I need you here as my heir,” rebuffed Rhaenyra. Aemma’s heart pulled, knowing ever since Luke, their mother has been grieving and fearing that more of her children will be taken from her. That is why she had made the difficult decision to send Joffery, Aegon, and Viserys to the Vale. Ensure the youngest are safe from the horrors this war is to bring.

“We will send a raven thanking Lord Benjicot for his pledge. Now, is there anything else that we need to discuss today?”

The lords all scanned each other before shaking their heads no. With that, each stood and left the hall individually, leaving only Jacaerys, Aemma, Rhaenys, and Rhaeynra in the room.

“Rhaeynra, what Jace said is true; we should show appreciation to House Blackwood, especially after they lost so much for our case,” argued Rhaenys while Rhaeynra looked down and played with her rings, showing off her nervousness.

“We will, as I stated, a raven will be sent to them and-”

Aemma moved forward to her mother, “ Muna, as much as that is a good idea, I feel a simple raven will not be enough. If Jace cannot go, then let me.”

Rhaeynra stood up from her seat and took Aemma's face into her hands while shaking her head.

“ Absolutely not; I will not be sending you, my pearl, where Aemond or worse, Aegon can capture you… my heart will not be able to take it.” Whispered Rhaeynra, tears welling up in her eyes.

Aemma closed her eyes and exhaled. She understood her mother’s worry, but she had the blood of the dragon and is the rider of Sliverwing, Good Queen Alyssane’s previous mount. She was raised by the Rouge Prince and the Queen who Never Was. She knew how to fight; how could her mother expect to find more allies if she hindered her decisions due to her fears?

“Muna, I am the princess of blood. We need to bring in our allies. It's true that Jace is your heir and needs to be by your side. So let me be the protector of our family and invoke the creed of Belon the Brave. If our allies, especially House Blackwood, see that someone is personally sent to thank them for their support, they will never have thought of betrayal in their minds.” Soothed Aemma as she took her mother's hands into her own—Violet staring at Violet.

Aemma could see her mother wavering, for Rhaeynra knew her daughter’s words speak truth. Her daughter had a natural charm inherited from her father, but behind those sweet words and charming smiles hid the cunning nature her daughter had learned from Daemon. Aemma was indeed both Leanor and Daemon’s daughter.

Rhaeynra sighed before nodding, “Very well, Aemma, you will go to Raventree Hall with my message, food, and medical supplies to help replenish House Blackwood… Please be safe.”

Princess Aemma bowed to her mother and left to ready herself and Silverwing for the Journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon reaching RavenTree Hall, Aemma wanted to weep; as she walked around, so many bodies littered the hall to be prepared for burial. Aemma stopped at a lanky young man with brown hair, his face covered with blood, wearing proudly the red and black colors similar to her own house. Looking at him made Aemma want to cry; he reminded her so much of Lucerys, her sweet brother taken from them by her kin-slaying uncle.

“ Davos Blackwood, my princess.”

Broke Aemma’s staring, as she flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring, which could be seen as rude, especially her being a guest. Aemma turned to its owner's husky yet shy voice and breathed sharply as she stared at the young man before her. Who looked almost exactly like the young man she was just staring at.

The young man was looking down at the body for a second before raising his sight to Aemma and bowing to her before speaking again.

“That is Davos Blackwood… he... he was my twin brother.” Aemma realized now that Benjicot Blackwood was speaking quietly with great sadness as she could again relate, her wound of losing a dear brother being opened again.

Aemma could only give a small smile in hopes of soothing the ache as she greeted the newly appointed lord of Raventree Hall.

“Lord Benjicot, my mother and I thank you for receiving me into your home, especially in this trying time; I wish to express sorrow for the loss of your father and twin brother.”

She could see more and more people stopping to stare at her and Benjicot, wanting to hear their conversation. Benjicot himself returned a shy smile to the princess.

“Thank you, my princess-”

“Aemma.” Stated the princess before continuing, “ You may call me Aemma, but I fear I will grow tired of hearing ‘my princess’ so much.”

Benjicot stared at Princess Aemma for a second before changing his smile to more of a smirk.

“Very, Aemma. Thank you for your condolences. I ask you to call me Benji or Ben. It seems only fair.”

Aemma returned her smile, feeling more confident than before, and returned to staring across the hall. Benji followed her sight, seeing his twin in the masses and understanding that the princess truly understood his pain. For she also had lost a father and brother. With a newfound ease, he asked the princess to join him for a tour of his hall, not wanting to be stared at by his people and not wanting to stay too close to his brother, for it hurt too much to look at him still. Asking for an arm to be hooked around his, he began his tour around the hall. As they walked out of the hall, Benjicot was greeted with a Dragon’s Shrill and a laugh that sounded as sweet as wind chimes. Turning, he saw Princess Aemma unhook her arm from him and gracefully sprint to her dragon, Sliverwing. Weary of the dragon, he soon followed the princess and came close enough to hear her speaking High Valyrian.

“Lykiri, issa dōna hāedar,” Aemma whispered as she petted her dragon, knowing Benji was staring at her.

What she didn’t see was the awestricken face Benjicot had. He had always heard Valyrians were considered higher to men and closer to gods. He never really believed it until now. The Princess, still in her riding leathers and loosely braided pale white hair, seemed like a beautiful warrior angel. She was known as the Pearl of the Realm for a reason. When Aemma turned to him, Benjicot could not help but feel his cheeks blush as those violet bejeweled eyes stared at him.

“Have you ever come into close contact with a dragon before?” Asked Aemma, although she already knew the answer.

Benjicot shook his head no, “ Never, my princes- um, Aemma.” He quickly caught himself as Aemma graced him with another laugh.

“Would you like to? Come meet my Silverwing.” Aemma took hold of his hand and pulled him closer to her until her body flushed to his as she raised their intertwined hands to Sliverwing’s snout.

The She-dragon huffed at the unfamiliar scent near her princess before calming to the soothing voice.

“Shh, Sliverwing, Lykiri, sweet one, we mustn’t scare away our host.” Whispered the princess; she guided Benjico’s hand to rub her snout. At the same time, she was using her other hand to soothe the dragon to be calm.

In awe of touching a dragon, Benji asked, “What does that mean… lykiri?

Aemma giggled at his accent while saying the High Valyrian word and turned to him, unbeknownst how close her face was to his: " It means to be calm or calm down. I must say how impressed I am with your bravery in being so close to a dragon, my lord.”

Benjicot, in turn, winked at the princess before teasingly replied, “Only because I have the Realm’s Pearl guiding me, and I thought we agreed to skip our titles, my princess.”

Aemma blushed at the teasing and realized how close they were to each other; just a slight lean, and they could kiss. Benjicot had a certain attractive charm; he had a boyish charm to his face, but a devilish smirk and his lanky build helped him appear taller. Aemma's musing was quickly cut short with a slight cough, and Aemma’s face flushed bright red as she and Benji quickly separated each other to see a Queensguard sternly looking at the pair.

Aemma, embarrassed, quickly schooled herself before returning to business, much to the brief disappointment of Benjicot. Alas, he knew better. She was the crown princess; he was just a lord, not even lord paramount. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the food and medical supplies she and her dragon brought to his land and people. If his house continued to support Queen, which they would, they would need the support to replenish themselves after the battle with those lousy Brackens. Then, much to Aemma’s disappointment, Benjicot was called away to finish establishing himself as the new lord. Stating they would see each other at the feast later this evening. The Princess sighed but allowed her dragon to fly off while she was guided to her chambers to prepare for the feast.

As she was walking, Her guard cleared his throat. “ Forgive me, my princess, as it may seem too forward of me, but your mother asked for you to come here to give a note of gratitude and supplies and return with loyal allies, not allies and a marriage proposal.”

Aemma gasped in shock, “ Ser Lorent, that was hardly any grounds for a marriage proposal; my mother and I haven’t even had that discussion yet.”

Then, a bit childishly, she slammed the door on her knight's face as she entered the quaint chamber. Sitting down on a chair in front of a mirror, Aemma began to unravel her braid and change her hairstyle to a more Valyrain-looking war braid. Her mind returned to Ser Lorent’s comment as she unraveled her hair. She indeed some took liberties from the Blackwood lord without thinking much of any consequences. Especially since she was of age to be married, which discussion has not come up because Lucerys' death took precedence. However, she knew she would have to marry sooner rather than later, mainly because of the war. She did not want to be used as a bargaining chip for allies, and she knew her mother would never force her. But the princess was not naive to think she had the liberty to marry for love. She previously thought of giving her hand to Cregan Stark as gratitude for being the first to support her mother. However, the cold was a little too much for her, and she couldn’t connect with the wolf of Winterfell, unlike Benjicot Blackwood, who had made her laugh more than twice about meeting him. Being married to him didn’t seem too bad, and she could still wear her Targaryen house colors.

Quickly shaking her head from thoughts, she heard a knock on the door. Ser Lorent was right; she wasn’t here to make marriage proposals. As she opened the door, she was greeted by the lord of blackwood, who gave her a dazzling smirk and asked to escort her to the feast hall. That smirk caused her to flush; remembering her previous thoughts, Aemma tried to school her features before returning her smirk just like her kepa Daemon taught, but she knew she had failed when Benjicot chuckled. Instead of taking insult, she reveled, knowing that she had brought a laugh out of him. As they entered the hall, she could see many staring at her with awe, with a few looks of lust from the young men. She expected this, being given the name the Realm’s Pearl; she knew she was beautiful, but instead of letting it turn her vain, she always tried to make others see that not only did she have Valyrian beauty, but she was also a dragon rider warrior like those of Old Valyria.

As the feast went on, Princess Aemma did her best to use her quick-witted charm to appease the people in the feast hall, although, like her kepa Daemon, after a while, she grew tired and wanted to breathe fresh air. After confirming with her knight, she quickly stepped out to catch the cool breeze when she heard whispers. Curiosity taking the best of her, she quietly walked closer, ensuring she would not be seen. There, she heard Benjicot's voice arguing with an older man and woman.

“I understand my position, but it is hardly weak; I am the lord of House Blackwood, and if need be, my Aunt Alysanne is my heir. I do not need to marry so soon, especially if we are to join the queen to war!” Snared the new lord at the older gentleman.

The older man sighed in annoyance, “ Yes, since we still follow the Old gods, there is nothing wrong with having Alysanne as your heir, but your position is not secured, my lord. Should you and your lady aunt perish, we risk losing our house to those craven Brackens. Being married will ensure your future wife carries your heir to secure the future of our house.”

This only grew Benjicot more agitated, and replied angrily, “ I will not be a bargaining chip just to secure my house’s future, and I will not marry just to have my future wife feel like a broodmare.”

Alysanne sighed, looking at both hotheaded men, and tried to intervene, “You and the princess seem to grow close. Why don’t you discuss with her any potential ladies she may have as her or her mother’s ladies-in-waiting? Therefore, you open up the discussion of marriage without feeling too drastic or rushed. While I remain as your heir?”

Both men did not entirely agree with that plan, but it was better than anything they could try to agree with. Reluctantly agreeing, the three blackwoods moved back to enter the feast hall without noticing the princess.

Aemma slowly returned to her seat; the newly appointed lord also had the same problem she would soon have, understanding their duty but not wanting to be a bargaining chip. The princess returned to her seat and took turns speaking with a few people before Princess Aemma decided it was time to read her mother’s letter as the feast continued. With two sharp taps of Ser Lorent’s sword on the table, the hall quieted as the princess addressed the people. She felt faint; she had never had to speak in front of so many people before, especially those who just lost family. With a quick scan of the room, she saw Alysanne Blackwood give a short, simple smile; then, her violet eyes locked on a certain dark-eyed lord, gracing her with his charming smirk, and gave a nod of encouragement.

Exhaling, she opened her mother’s letter and began to read, “My good people of Raventree Hall, I thank you for welcoming my daughter, Crown Princess Aemma, into your home. As my heart grieves for the loss of Burning Mill, I want to express my gratitude for your honor and loyalty to me as your queen. My mind is at ease knowing I have such loyal subjects, and with your help, I know we can take back my birthright from the green false king. To show my gratitude, I have sent my daughter on her dragon to bring supplies and food to help replenish House Blackwood. With her dragon, she will lead and guard the able soldiers to Harrenhall, where Prince Daemon, the Knights of the Vale, and the men of the North will eagerly await you. You all have my utmost respect and gratitude, your Queen, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the realm.”

As Aemma finished her mother’s letter, she started hearing applause and cheers for her mother, which swelled her heart to see people genuinely supporting her. Looking back at Benji, she could see him smiling and nodding in approval, which only made her think back to the conversation she overheard. After a moment, she raised her hand to still the cheers, and people quieted down, wanting to hear what the princess had to say next.

“I thank those here today for coming out and supporting my queen. My heart is filled with the warm welcome I have received here at Raventree Hall. To know such fierce and loyal people are willing to fight for my mother, your queen, fills my heart with gratitude-”

Someone in the back stood up and cheered, “To Queen Rhaenyra and Her Crown Princess, The Realm’s Pearl Aemma Velayron!”

Prompting more to stand and cheer, the princess let the people cheer and then, after a while, again asked for quiet.

“I thank you all for your cheers. To show my gratitude for everything, I propose, should your Lord Blackwood accept, my hand for marriage to create a strong and secure alliance between Houses Targaryen, Velaryon, and House Blackwood.”

Gasps were heard all over the room, and a sharp clank from her knight's sword fell to the ground, but all of that did not matter because the princess only wanted to hear and see one reaction. That of Benjicot Blackwood, who stood up to meet his princess gaze as his smirk fell off his face and slowly replaced with a genuine heartwarming smile, his eyes lighting up like they haven’t all night. He slowly walked to Princess Aemma, taking her soft, sunkissed hands to his, staring at her doe-like violet eyes, and kissing her hands.

“It would be my honor to be your husband, my dear princess,” he whispered as her smile grew, knowing she had made the right decision.

#hotd season 2 #hotd spoilers #davos blackwood #benjicot blackwood #bloody ben #Benjicot Blackwood/oc #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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killshotbabe · 2 years

Text

Title | Acquainted

Pairing | billionaire!Jaehyun x bodyguard!reader ft. NCT

Warnings | minors dni! slightly rude!Jaehyun, Jaehyun and reader “don’t get along”, use of swear words, brief mention of a bad injury (not to main pairing) sexual tension, solo masturbation, voyeur tendencies, fingering, face riding, choking, smut, slightly rough, unprotected sex (please wear protection!) creampie, slight breeding kink?

Word count | 4k (Got carried away oops!)

Song(s) | My All - Larissa Lambert (cover), Hopeless - Always Never

A.N | This was so goddamn long than originally planned but enjoy!

“Maybe you should leave.”

He suggested, cutting you off mid-sentence as you were explaining why it would better for him to take another route you’ve spent some time going over with the private personnel.

It had gone through the approval of your chief in charge as well having to have earned his full trust in the past but what you didn’t expect was for Jaehyun, your current boss in flesh, to reject your entrance and exit plans for the upcoming 50th charity ball he’s going to be attending in a few in two weeks.

The charity ball that was supposed to be tended by his father but after suffering what happens to be his third stroke, he made an ultimate decision to pass his head of position down to his only son, Jaehyun, who’s going to eventually earn it anyway by the time his father succumbs into old age and eventually die and be buried six feet under but due to his worsening health, Jaehyun officially took over.

Not one blinked an eye after such huge announcement has been made.

Some would say it’s a bit “pre-mature” you think, but it was the only right thing to do.

After all, no one wanted the Jung Empire to crumble into its last feet and from what you heard, Jaehyun is quite popular despite being the youngest from the line-up of old, obnoxious balding men.

It wasn’t like as if he preferred to live a different life — he had the option to do so, but he’s always wanted to follow his father’s footsteps since the very young age. He went from eavesdropping to his father’s meetings behind the door, and sometimes he would bring his toy cars into his father’s study and sit on the plush carpet as his father spoke to the phone, ball point always on-hand, glass of wine to the side. Jaehyun did this for as long as he can remember until they began to fit him into custom tailored suits to wear when he goes to his father’s meetings with him or without him which he had been tending to for the past few months, so this was not something new to him.

The new thing, though, was you being appointed his new private bodyguard due to the increasing tension coming from the outsiders who are threatened by Jaehyun’s sudden take-over. From what you do know, they have been keeping an eye on his father since the news of his illness (which the private sector has tried to keep in the shadows) leaked to the press, spiking gossips and rumours from nobodies. This also caused a major rift, threatening the future of the company Mr. Jung has been taking a great care of for decades, and even if he may be the nicest person in the world of business — he’s more prone to having enemies waiting for him to fall apart and now that Jaehyun has begun his long journey as the new head of The Jung enterprise, a new target has now been placed on the back of his head.

All was left is for him to try and dodge the bullet with your help, of course.

But that wasn’t going to happen easily — not when he’s not been a good sport to you.

At first, you thought he was just getting used to being the new chairman so you decided to back off and let him take a breather, but soon you find out he does have a rather mean streak and preferred to be alone and do everything alone. He doesn’t really speak to anyone at home too. You would see him chat with the head maid from time to time and maybe greet the security and other staff guarding his home but that was about it, he had no close relationship with them even if they worked with him and Mr. Jung for a while, which you find quite sad, but it was still none of your business.

You’ve only been here for around two weeks and you do reside in his home as well, but it did feel like you lived else where.

His luxurious house — composed of a total of four levels, shiny marbled floors and expensive hand-picked art adoring the wide plains of the black tourmaline walls felt rather strange to you. It was often quiet whenever you walked into the hallway at the dead of the night with the occasional swoosh from the french windows gracing your sharp hearing. You’ve only spent an ample of time doing security checks around his home but you haven’t been to any specific rooms even if you do memorize the entire floor plan and know which room is which, including the hidden underground bunker built into the house which you hope you wouldn’t end up using at all if shit does hit the fan.

Other than yourself, the security and the rest of the morning staff do not reside in his home but in a separate complex nearby so technically, it was just you and Jaehyun confined in such a huge space.

Mr. Jung lived somewhere else which you have been once or twice but compared to your first impression to both, you’d rather stay at Mr. Jung’s just because it felt like someone was actually living there and you don’t really mind the smell of tobacco. Here, at Jaehyun’s however, didn’t feel like that at all. You wouldn’t even know if he’s at home if the cctv didn’t notify you of his arrival (and your phone too because you can actually track his whereabouts) or until you see a faint light from his study or anywhere else really.

Jaehyun didn’t like keeping bright lights on so his house appeared to be more eerie and colder when the sun is no longer in the horizon. You got used to it rather quickly though. It was peaceful, maybe too peaceful for your taste but it’s better than sleeping at your old apartment where the next door neighbours would often fight, their harsh words penetrating your thin walls, and plus, the head chef and maid cooks great food. You couldn’t complain about that when you have been given the chance to not worry about any groceries anymore to keep you alive and kicking.

You like to think you’ve hit a jackpot since accepting this newly-appointed job: to be Jaehyun’s second eyes and iron shield and you thought it was simple but things were never simple.

Life didn’t work like that but at the very least, you’re alive and breathing.

At least I’m alive and breathing.

You chanted like a mantra as you forced a lump in your throat, still holding your ground in front of Jaehyun who made no effort to even took at you in the eye.

“Jaehyun.”

You try again, stressing that he needs to approve your plan before you can fuck off the premises which you’ve been wanting do the moment you stepped a heeled foot into his spacious study. If it wasn’t for the low murmur of jazz playing softly from the turntable close to his mahogany desk, you would’ve yelled at him by now but you chose not to.

You pride yourself as his main bodyguard and you didn’t want him to treat you like some doormat.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” He flipped through a couple of pages from a stack of papers he’s been reviewing for God knows how long and there was more, but he kept it tidy and very organized, and yet you can’t help but feel his mind may not be the same right at this moment. “I said no.”

“You could end up in a bad situation. Had you not realize your enemies are trying to threaten you lately?” You say, tone coming off stern than how you’d like it to be. “Have you not been noticing the extra security we’ve been adding for you this past week?”

He paused, sighing and you think you may have won a little but if anything, you just pissed him off even more.

“Just do whatever the fuck you want, alright? Your job is to protect me so take it upon yourself and move. No need to run it by me.”

You fought not to grit your teeth, composure still straight. “Well, you could’ve just said yes to begin with. Easy as that and I would be out the door.”

“Your plan has too many unnecessary changes.” He began to type on the keyboard, still not sparing you a glance. “I don’t like it but whatever makes you sleep at night.”

“I’m doing this for you.” You reminded, ready to turn your back to him and out. “A simple “yes” would’ve been easy and I follow a protocol which involves me to ask you for an approval first. Like it or not, this is in my contract and you, out of everyone else here, should know. Have good evening, Sir.”

You found yourself out of his study just like that and made your way to your room wanting to take a cold shower after your useless exchange with Jaehyun.

When you were gone, all he did was lean his head over his leather seat, eyes fluttering close with an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

For the next week ahead of the charity ball event he’s sponsoring as one of the main ambassadors, you stuck by him always walking three steps ahead to clear the area before it’s deemed safe for him to move. You and your team stayed alert and hot on heels, especially when there have been a surge of crowds garnering for him and it did nothing but bring stress to you and your team. Not only had the threats against him and his family empire had gone worse, but his own “fangirls” as well.

You thought it was over once you and Jaehyun make it back home until you found two young girls that couldn’t be younger than eighteen taking pictures of the car he has used on the way back from a meeting.

The meeting was short and it was his only schedule this afternoon so you didn’t tag along but still dispatched two personnel from your team to be with him so you can finish your annual report your chief wants you to complete before the end of this week. It was by chance actually — you typing away with the security panel on your other screen when a lone taxi drove by the gates two times. Anything more than that was deemed suspicious you had to watch carefully and soon enough, you found yourself outside with girls’ camera on your hand which you had confiscated.

You recognized one of them as one of the socialite’s daughter which you do consider as a major threat — The Chois were just as powerful but they haven’t been on their A-game lately especially when they’re competing with Jaehyun.

You drummed your hand on top of the taxi’s roof, peering closer to the girls who are now blinking owlishly at you. One of them looking like they’re about to pee their pants after seeing your gun holstered to your belt loop.

“Are you girls here to see Jaehyun? He doesn’t give autographs.” You joked, other hand sifting through the gallery of their DSLR. “Do you guys work for some damn magazine I don’t know about?”

“No—um we,” The bleached blonde one stuttered as you deleted all of the shots they got of Jaehyun’s. “We’re fans of his…”

“Well, what do you know about him?” You raised a brow, satisfied with your neat work but refused to give it back to them yet. “Last time I checked he’s just some really powerful billionaire dude… Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

The brunette smacked the blonde’s one knee, attempting to stop her from responding to you and further reveal why they’re here to begin with. She did know who you are and you being a total cutthroat by your poise and how you held yourself whenever you’re with Jaehyun and she was scared of you, truly.

“We… won’t be back here anymore. I’m sorry.” She begged, round eyes trying to make you feel pity even if you already know the way she behaved whenever she’s there on sight when she’s not supposed to. “Please give the camera back to us…”

But you didn’t make it easy. If it’s not for their family then it’s possible that they’re working with whatever media outlet is after Jaehyun too.

Nonetheless, you decide to give the camera back considering it wasn’t chipped or anything which you checked before you cleared all of Jaehyun’s pictures.

“If I see you two out here again, you better stop what you’re doing and if you’re working for someone, put an end to it.” You tossed them the camera with a glare. “I’ll let you go this time but I won’t next time, then you’ll wish you never met me at all.”

The girls nodded quickly, blood draining off their faces as they begged for the taxi driver to floor it. You wait until they’re out of sight before heading back, meeting Jungwoo, one of the security personnel, on your way in to the foyer.

“Just some girls.” You shrug. You do make a note to do some more research about them later though. “Is he upstairs?”

“Yeah. He said he was going to sleep so I’m leaving now and rot out there. Don’t tell him I stole an orange from the kitchen.”

He grinned, showing you the round fruit in his palm.

Jungwoo was a new addition too, but you do think he built a better relationship with Jaehyun considering the fact that you caught them joking around at one point and you think that wasn’t fair.

You couldn’t blame Jungwoo though. He’s super chill and smiled a lot unlike you with your permanent scowl embedded in your face. It did bother you from time to time, but your relationship with Jaehyun has gone to shit since the beginning (for a reason you don’t know) and you think it’s because he just doesn’t like having a tail following him around even if the nature of his work required one.

To this day, you have already accepted your fate when it came to him. You were here not become his friend after all, and you can tell he sure he feels the same way.

Work was work and you had a contract to fulfil until then. You weren’t here for the sake of having your feelings involved.

“Bold of you to assume he’d notice.” You smiled, sending him away. “Just help yourself whenever!”

“K! Have a good rest of the afternoon! Mark also says he’ll be late for security check!”

“Got it!”

Once you heard the front doors shut, you climb back upstairs and back to you room to resume where you left off. By 7:30 pm, you find yourself waking up from an accidental nap you took in the middle of conducting your report. You cursed and planned to do your finishing touches but not without a cup of newly-brewed coffee on your side so you find yourself in the main kitchen, helping yourself up when the head maid padded down the hall, calling your name upon seeing you.

“Have you eaten yet?” She halted just beside you as you stirred a spoon into your coffee. “You can’t be drinking that without eating anything? I made mushroom soup for dinner. Made steak too with potatoes.”

“Maybe later I will, thanks.” You smiled sheepishly as you take a sip from your mug. “I just had a snack so…”

“You could’ve just joined Jaehyun earlier.” She whispered, teasing you with a pinch on your elbow which caused you break into a sudden yelp. “He looked really tense…Almost felt bad for the steak.”

You shook your head, placing your cup on the counter, folding your arms to mimic the head maid.

“Isn’t he always?”

“True, but he just looks lonely being alone there I keep wondering why you two won’t just eat together.”

You could only shrug, the visual of him sitting alone eating dinner in a huge table wracking your brain.

“We don’t get along.”

“Oh c’mon…” The older lady rolled her eyes at your predicament. “I’m getting real sick of watching the two of you avoiding each other like the black plague unless you’re out to chaperone him. We thought you’d would work especially when you’re around his age, and I know he can be a pain in the ass but why not try with him? This house is too damn big already.”

“You know I’m just here for work…” You murmur, letting her words affect you a little anyway because she was the only one who could sense how you really felt no matter how many times you voluntarily plunged yourself in denial.

You remember the first time they introduced you to him just a couple of weeks go.

It was on sunny day and the start of fall. You always liked fall because there’s always a positive shift in the air even if it slowly got colder. You like to think of it as letting go of the dead things you can no longer care, or hold closely to your heart that you’ve wanted to get rid of as your life went by.

From your old position to becoming Jaehyun’s bodyguard did raise a lot of new opportunities and new surroundings as it required you to move to his place. You were giddy and quite excited, wanting to leave you former apartment situated in busy area from not-so-good side of the city. The raise was also splendid— you think if you keep this position for one year you’d be able to buy a better apartment elsewhere and have a whole space for yourself and you know you will eventually get there.

But what you didn’t really expect was how rude Jaehyun had treated you since the beginning.

When you were introduced to him by your chief, all he did was nod and went on his day with you tailing after him as you shadowed his old bodyguard days before they were to be dispatched overseas permanently. It was nice when the bodyguard was there until you woke up in his shoes, now calling all shots and leading the whole team which had been exhilarating at first, but you knew your capabilities and thought highly of yourself, even if Jaehyun doesn’t really acknowledge or has ever initiated a conversation when you’re alone in a room with him.

You can’t really pinpoint what his deal was — you thought he might be misogynistic but that wasn’t the case. There were women in your team and he treated any woman no different like how he treated the rest, at least from what you noticed. You didn’t want to confront him about it as well seeing that it might just sound dumb and too far-fetched but your gut have been telling you there’s more to it. You just didn’t know how to approach him about it, not when he’s too busy and has other priorities to tend to than listen to what you have to say concerning your feelings.

He doesn’t even like the plans and changes you make for him regarding his entire safety, what more about how you really feel?

But you were still a human being and you know you will be treated as such so eventually, you’ll bring it up but not today, not anytime soon at least.

“And work it is…But try to get along, okay? I may not be here all the time but I can sense the sour atmosphere whenever I clean up.”

You chuckled, leering close to her. “Maybe it’s just the dead souls buried under the house trying to get your attention…”

“Hey, don’t say stuff like young lady! You know how superstitious I can get.” She backs off you, not liking the fact that you just brought up “ghosts”. “…Maybe I’ll sage the entire house the next time you guys are away again! Don’t want Jaehyun to smell it and complain.”

“I don’t think he’ll care. He hasn’t been to anywhere else but his floor lately.” You laugh, placing your hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder. “So do it anytime. I like the smell of it.”

“Fine, I will. Just because I like you like that.” She pats your hand, thanking you for your little massage before sending you off with your coffee. “And don’t ditch dinner!”

You make sure to eat around midnight, completely lost in you report.

You ate more than you could possibly take in one sitting but didn’t care if it was going to give you a stomach ache which you had attempted to sleep off, but around 3 am, you find yourself unable to go back to bed so naturally, you sat upright and leaned against your headboard, laptop on-hand and see if you maybe watch one of those scary indie games on youtube.

You found them weirdly comforting and often watched them but before you could put one on and have it lull you back to bed, the live footage of Jaehyun’s dim-lit room suddenly flashed into your screen in full-size.

You can’t help but panic a little since you were not supposed to watch him at such ungodly hour. You were given this specific access from hours 6-9 pm. That was the arrangement, but it didn’t mean your master access would disable the live feed during after hours. You have full control of it so it was all up to you, and it’s not like someone is actually keeping track of how many times you’d watch him, not when his room is only for your eyes and nobody else’s.

You were just about to hover your mouse to the top right corner of your screen and exit out of the window when he stirred in his sleep, calling your attention. Not even a couple of seconds later he, too, sat up and leaned against the headboard, mimicking your current position.

You raised a brow, feeling a little intimate with the current situation — he’s literally sitting there with his eyes closed and he had no shirt on, showing you what was hiding beneath his usual suit jacket.

You blinked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before you found yourself peering closer, unable to take your eyes off him and his bare skin riddled with great abs. You knew he did work-out but still…

“What the fuck am I doing…” You shook your head in utter disbelief, feeling like a total creep now. “I should probably go to sleep.”

You smack yourself on the cheek and tried to exit out of the window when your peripheral vision caught him slide his hand under his blanket, palming himself with closed eyes, a serene look on his face.

You suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Your pupils practically quivered when he parted his pretty lips just slightly so he could spit on his hand before rubbing his bare cock with it again and again for you to see, instantly making you snap your thighs together as you became more hyperaware of what he was doing in front of you. You tried so hard to look away from the screen, shut your laptop close and forget this ever happened but you simply couldn’t look away — not when he just pulled the comforter down to his knees, revealing his hard cock — standing upright, hypnotizing you to come closer and see which you did, jaw going slack upon realizing he was, in fact, big too.

You watched him give himself a few generous pumps before he laid back down, a half-grin on his face as he continued to fuck himself in his fist. You like to think he’d made a sound from what you’re seeing and it only did nothing but make you wet, your arousal already soiling your underwear as you forced yourself not to do anything about it at all. You think you should feel any ounce of guilt right now, having to watch a very private moment, but your head had gone to mush and you just couldn’t bring your hand to exit out of the feed.

He was too beautiful, fucking himself into his fist like that with a lazy smile gracing his face — the type of smile you’ve never seen him do in person.

Oh, you wished you’d be the one making him feel good like that..

As he rutted himself into his fist, on the way to reach his peak, you found yourself snaking your hand between your legs now spreading it wide in front of the feed. You swore at how incredibly sensitive and soaked you’ve become as you moved your thong to the side, biting your lip when you smeared your wetness all over your aching pussy before eventually sliding two fingers in, your eyes blown with nothing but pure desire as you watched Jaehyun attentively, slowly pumping your fingers inside you in the same rhythm he was going.

When he eventually did come, rewarding you with spurts of his cum landing on his toned abs, you did too, with your hand clamping around your mouth to prevent yourself from moaning too loud.

He went back to bed like that, his expression so peaceful as you tried to catch your breath, your own wetness slipping out of your cunt and on to your bedsheet between your trembling legs.

You didn’t sleep that night.

The morning hours before the commencement of the charity ball, you begrudgingly delivered Jaehyun’s three piece navy suit to his study thinking he wasn’t inside but at the rooftop pool.

Much to your horror, however, he was in fact inside his study and he was shirtless with just some grey sweats hanging low to his hips, jet black hair combed backwards and still damp from the shower he just took. You almost dropped the neatly-wrapped black box onto the floor when he advanced to your side to retrieve his phone from his desk. You cleared your throat, backing off. “It’s from Prada.”

“Yeah, and you were supposed to pick them up, right?”

You stopped on your heel, halfway his wing already. You didn’t think he’d catch on to be honest. You knew you were supposed to pick it up for him but because you didn’t get any sleep, you ended up sleeping in for a couple more hours until Mark, one of the night personnel, knocked on your door to pass you his daily report after he couldn’t find you somewhere in the ground floor.

“I’m sorry. I just missed my alarm.”

You lied, hoping he would just let it go. You didn’t even think he’d care about it at all. It’s not like you overslept the entire day and completely forgot about your tasks today.

You thought about him last night again, a flush of warmth creeping on your cheeks but you fought to push those sinful thoughts away.

“Well, don’t be late next time then?” He turned his back to you so he can open the box and examine what’s inside.

You scoffed, trying to look away from his nicely-sculpted back muscles and proceeded to be on your way out when he suddenly called your name for the first time since the first day you’ve been appointed to be his bodyguard.

It caught you off-guard for a second there but you refused to provide him with any type of reaction when you spun around and met his eyes.

He has an unreadable expression on his face — something you couldn’t quite read but it did nothing but make your heartbeats pump faster than normal.

He leaned his hips to his desk, lean and muscular arms perched behind him to the flat surface.

“You have a good eye, do you?”

You raised a brow, trying so hard not to cast your gaze from his neck and down south, his grey sweats mocking you. It was the same one he wore last night.

“… Maybe?” You trailed off, not that confident like he presumed you to be with your chin high, eyes almost as dark as the evening sky and your signature red lipstick painted perfectly on your lips.

You somehow didn’t have that on today like the usual and your long black hair, always pinned and tied, just flowing smoothly on your back.

He sensed there was something off, but he liked the look you sported today. It made you look younger and innocent-looking.

He wasn’t going to lie, it did tickle his fancy.

“Then come by later and help me choose what looks good.”

You feel his wondering eyes scrutinize you for the first time, and you couldn’t help but stay still, not breathing at all until he turned around and disappeared into a corner of his study, leaving you stranded in the middle of it all.

For how many times you wished he’d learn to acknowledge you, you now sincerely hoped he never did because with the way he was looking at you just now, you couldn’t help but feel there is something else in those dark brown eyes.

Whatever it was, you think you wouldn’t be ready for it.

“We’re taking my route.”

You announce as you got on the passenger side with Jungwoo behind the wheel.

You’re on your way to the charity ball right now with Jaehyun on his phone, conversation seemingly boring but you still listened, taking notes.

He’s put on a patterned suit jacket instead of the navy one Prada brought for him and he looked too gorgeous in it like he always did but today, you think this might be your favourite look of his so far — jet black hair pushed back with a strand falling on his forehead, his neck adorned with a dainty silver necklace accentuating his regality… You were quite bummed you didn’t end up choosing anything for him due to an emergency meeting he had to be a part of when he was getting ready too so you chose to take your time getting ready instead, picking a total of three outfits you’ve laid to your bed before eventually gunning for the satin number in ivory.

You like to think you didn’t do so bad yourself too. If not, this has been the most dressed you’ve been for this type of occasion. You think you could get used to this at some point but it was still a little overwhelming for you.

You didn’t like being a part crowds reeking of nothing but money and gin, and chatting with any socialites at all even if you had to just because you’re Jaehyun’s bodyguard. You wished you had Jungwoo’s or Johnny’s post, only situated up the corridors hiding from plain sight to watch for any suspicious and unusual activity. You had to be more alert for it, but at least they stayed in the shadows unlike what you’re going to be doing once you and Jaehyun arrive to the ball.

“Don’t keep a long distance but stray closer to him, alright?” Your chief instructed at least two days before the event. “Just received a note from the sector and said someone from there might try to harm him, so be on the look out. I’m sending more back up in case.”

Saying you’re not that nervous might be an understatement.

You practically shivered on your way out of the car, cursing at the lack of clothing you wore for the event. You did have an option to wear slacks, but you wanted to wear a dress this time around since slacks was your regular uniform, and you wanted to look like you’d blend into this type of crowd as well, not wanting to stand out like a sore thumb (which you already do) but least you could do is pretend.

Pretend that you’re a socialite for once and what chief said, “Act like his equally rich girlfriend.”

“I’m off. Rendezvous in…three hours?” Jungwoo hummed as Jaehyun took off, leaving you with Jungwoo by the staircase. You scoffed. “And…he’s off. Ugh, tell him not stay here for more than three or i’ll eat my fucking fist.”

“Make it two and a half. I hate shit like this.” You sighed, waving him off. “See ya. Don’t fall asleep.”

“Ay-ay Captain!”

Midway into the charity event, you started to yawn as you watched Jaehyun having a pleasant conversation with a group of older men, some of them without an arm candy or if they did have one, they were from the overseas — all tanned and blonde with a variety of luxurious brands all over their outfit.

You thought they were rather tacky so you looked away, reaching for another flute of champagne to get rid of the nasty taste of some fancy snack you tried earlier. Something about an “escargot,” which caused Jungwoo to cackle devilishly from your earbud before translating what you just ate.

You felt like gagging, hating the thought of snails being digested in you right now but since you couldn’t leave Jaehyun alone as he continued his rounds to mingle with every damn guest in the room, you had no choice but to suck it up and hope the champagne can help get rid of the taste.

You could only stand there, watching everyone like a hawk before your gaze eventually fell on Jaehyun who was casually smiling to a girl dressed in dainty blue chiffon, accentuating her slim build.

She was cute, couldn’t be younger than him and she’s patting him on the chest now, getting a little brave with her manicured hands.

“Butter knife just arrived.”

You cupped the earbud plugged in your ear, still keeping an eye on Jaehyun.

“He’s here? Jungwoo, is he alone?”

“No… wait— Johnny says there’s one more coming from south. White van — fuck, it’s Sanchez!” There was a harsh whisper on the other side. “You have to get Jaehyun out of there.”

“He’s fucking surrounded with girls, I just— continue reporting to me I’m getting him out now.”

You suppress the panic surging through your veins as you slowly approach Jaehyun now being flocked around by female socialites right in the middle of the ballroom.

“I don’t think anyone is suspicious in the ball right now — Yuta said but just, yeah get him out. Chief found Sanchez being a part of the Amos cartel. He’s a fucking traitor.”

“Yeah, I know. They’ve been on the radar for days. They’re invited aren’t they?”

You stop by your tracks before you proceed, finding a small gap between several bodies you can snake through and hopefully get Jaehyun out of there soon.

“Yeah. They’re under that old bastard, Brekker, so leave. Jaehyun did his talk part anyway.” Jungwoo snapped. “Mark is waiting right in front of your exit, right behind Centennial. Go.”

And so you did, now latching a hand around Jaehyun’s wrist, pulling him out of the growing crowd and into you.

“Sorry, ladies. Judgment calls!”

He waved, a little tipsy as you dragged him towards your left exit and into the hall, not letting him walk on his own without you tugging his hand.

You whipped your head around, noticing Jeno one of the back-up posted up far away from your left. You share a brief nod before you proceed to one of the shortcuts which led to a narrow dim-lit hall, dragging Jaehyun behind you, his hand now clasped around your wrist.

“Wait, wait— slow down!” He half-yelled, unable to catch on.

“No, we keep going and I’ll tell you after. Just let me do this, okay?” He was about to say something else when you called Jungwoo, using your free hand to tell him to shut it. “Jeno’s on watch. Is Chenle okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that kid. Are you almost out? Should take you no more than two minutes.”

“Yeah,” You walked hastily as Jaehyun jogged beside you. “I got Jaehyun with me. Will be out soon.”

“Okay, okay great you’re almost there and — what? Who?” There was a murmur and a static noise interrupting you conversation which caused your brows to furrow but you kept going, the sight of one of the unused doors just a couple of steps ahead of you.

“Shit! Hey, you guys keep going. I’ll call you later.”

You blinked rapidly, free hand fixed to your earphone. “What? No — what the hell?” You grumbled but let it go as you made it out of the building with Jaehyun who’s now looking at you, noticing your worry but decided to leave it be until you found yourselves on the backseat of Mark’s car.

“Jungwoo just ditched me and I don’t know what the hell is happening inside.” You pushed Jaehyun to the side, your arm fixed to his lap as you spoke to Mark, now exiting the back alleyway and into a different route avoiding the main street. “You got any updates?”

“They’re saying one of Amos’ people got into the corridor.” Mark said, eyes focused of the road. “Chenle found him but he wasn’t alone. He should be fine though, I trust him.”

“But who’s on that floor? We made a last minute change just earlier.”

“Renjun — hey, strap yourself up though I’m about to speed so we can get off the intersection. Don’t worry about the guys.” He said rather sternly to try and get your mind off the gutter but something felt wrong and you can feel it in your gut — and you were always right.

“You have to tell me when Jungwoo’s on.”

You sigh in defeat, still quite tense when you felt Jaehyun tug your seatbelt for you, coaxing you to slide it without saying anything on which you eventually did. You were so glad he didn’t even bother interjecting but kept quiet, letting you and Mark talk and fill in the creeping silence.

You muttered a “thanks” to Jaehyun but made sure to stay alert until Mark gets any updates or maybe yourself, but for some reason you had a feeling it wasn’t going to come to you.

“There has been a break-in the corridor. Surveillance team are okay, and Chenle’s in the ER. Cops are on site. Had to get everyone out of there but no one sustained any bad injuries. Chief’s on duty and says you did a good job. They will control the press when this gets out.”

Mark closed the door behind him, eyes on his phone. You swore under your breath and started to pace around of the hotel room you had booked in advanced when something like this takes place.

You thought of Chenle and clenched your jaw, glaring at Mark.

“It’s not your fault. He just miscalculated. Assailant went for his leg.”

“With a knife?” You exhaled and sat back down, Jaehyun just on the other bed, gaze falling on you and a slightly nervous Mark who couldn’t help but loosen his tie. “Please tell me it was a damn knife and it wasn’t deep.”

“Yeah, a little deep but he’ll live. Hey.” Mark squatted now as he levelled with your gaze with his. “I promise I’ll update you but I’ve gotta meet up with Jungwoo and Johnny and check surveillance around the compound, alright?”

“Yeah… Go, I’m sorry but please, please update me about Chenle, okay?”

“Will do. I know he’s your fave just because he’s the youngest. He’ll be okay. Yeah? Mark smiled, tapping your knee attempting to sooth you. “If he finds out you were so worried about him it might get to his head so simmer it down and try to get rest.”

“Okay…”

You watched Mark leave into the hallway as the door automatically closed, trapping you and Jaehyun in a hushed silence.

It didn’t fully sink in that you were alone with him in one room until he voluntarily broke the silence, tiredness in his deep voice so evident.

“Who was it this time?”

You slowly twisted your torso to face him.

“Brekker.”

“I trust that he’ll soon find himself behind the bars by you, right?”

His eyes remained closed as you slowly found yourself tracing the outline of his black slacks and all the way to his patterned suit jacket, and finally, his peaceful riddled face — the exact one you saw through the live feed last night as he gave you a slice of heaven.

A scarlet hue spread on your cheeks. He looked like he just jumped out of photoshoot whilst you sat there, looking a little out of it, dress semi-wrinkled and with your lipstick drying out into the cracks, eventually making it ooze out some blood. You rubbed a finger across it, flinching from the sting.

“We’re working on it and trying our best.”

You say a little quietly as your ear perked up to his relaxed “hmm”.

You attempted to distract yourself from the sheer worry coursing through you, so you decide to get up and head to the en suite bathroom to wash the minimal make up from your face and only slipped out after a quick bath, wearing a spare night wear as you darted back into the now dim-lit room, seeing Jaehyun had already fallen asleep in the same clothes.

You could only exhale, feeling like you’ve been holding your breath for so long.

You gave him a slow glance as you occupied the other bed adjacent to his, sliding yourself further to the other side of your bed before you switched your phone on to read two new messages from Mark. Chenle was still okay, but he will have to be confined in the hospital for a few days due to a nasty blow he endured by the ribs requiring immediate treatment.

You sighed, texting him back and Jungwoo before you placed your phone back on the bedside table, leaving the yellow glow from the lamp next to you, gradually lulling you to sleep.

You woke up at 3 am, all parched so you went for a drink then back to bed. You couldn’t go back to sleep, however, which resulted in a series of rolls and turns trying to find a position you’d be comfortable sleeping at.

“Can’t sleep?”

You gasped, back fully turned from a sleepy Jaehyun lying somewhere in the darkness.

Was he awake this whole time watching and hearing you struggle?

“I think.”

You pulled your comforter over your shoulder, now awake, glazed eyes staring up the ceiling. You traced the victorian details on the ceiling above you as you hear Jaehyun move.

From your peripheral vision, you can see the outline of his arm, his long sleeve now rolled up to his forearm, making you clench your jaw.

“You’re still thinking about Chenle?”

There was a genuine concern on his tone, which surprised you, but after what happened today, you knew he couldn’t afford to make you feel like you want to shoot yourself in the head, and if he hadn’t, you’re not sure if you’d even let him sleep. You could fight him if he did try to frustrate you more but this wasn’t bad — the calm was good. It soothed you even if you felt like you were about to cry earlier because of what happened to Chenle, though you did keep in mind that this was your first.

Just as long as they’re safe…

“A bit.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “He’s the youngest… I think I’d go crazy if something happened to him.”

“But he’s okay. And that’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed a lump in your throat, your back still facing him.

You could feel him stare at you now and it did nothing but send goosebumps all over your skin.

There was a suffocating silence that seemed to last for eternity and you thought you’d be able to just force yourself back to sleep somehow until you hear Jaehyun talk again.

“You did a good job today.”

His words alone made you blink owlishly.

You thought you were going to melt right there and then and you, so badly, want to hear him say that again than deal with his usual condescending tone but you couldn’t be greedy.

“Do you hate me?”

You asked out of blue, seeing as this might be the only right time you could have a heart-to-heart with him. The both of you are stuck in one small space after all.

You didn’t need to find him and vice versa, so you went for it after a sudden bravery shot up into the surface.

But he didn’t answer.

You were about to repeat yourself again when he cut you off.

“Maybe.”

“Really?” You scoffed, tongue poking to the side of your mouth. “You never really acknowledge me, you know?”

He was quiet as you tensed up, continuing on with your little rant anyway now that you had suddenly developed the nerve to try to find out what his deal was and why he seemed to not be fond of you at all.

“Since the day we met… We don’t eat together…We live in one house and yet—“

“I don’t think you want to know.”

Upon hearing him say that, you pulled yourself up from your bed, fists falling to your side as you stared at him in the dark. You could make out his face and everything else. It didn’t even seem like he moved any muscle at all, so you allow him to bask in his short-lived peace before you stood by the foot of his bed, fury embedded in your eyes.

“Don’t you have some basic human decency?” You try not to lose it. “You treat every body else nice but when it comes to me…”

“Don’t start.” He warned, still laying down but he’s now staring back at you, his dark eyes penetrating yours in an endless battle you drew upon yourselves.

“I want to know why and you will tell me.” You declared, not taking what he said as a warning. “Right. Now. Jaehyun.”

“You really want to have this conversation right now?” He was back on his feet now, towering over you as he inched closer to you, a bite of sheer frustration and anger in his next words. “You just piss me off. I didn’t want you.”

“Did I even do anything to you for you to hate me?” You barked back, chin up high as you attempt to stand your ground but you soon found yourself backing away as he continued to advance, threatening to trap you. “I don’t get you at all! I’m the best from the recruits and I don’t care if you have little faith on me—“

“I don’t care if you’re the best.” He jammed a hand just above your head, caging you against the cold wall. “But your chief shouldn’t have given you to me.”

“Why not? God, just stop being fucking cryptic and tell me!’ You yelled, one hand pushing him off by his chest only for him to grab your hand and spin you around, your cheek meeting the wall with a small gasp knocked out from your chest as he locked your arm behind you.

“You’re a lot. Fiery and always held your chin high no matter what. Makes me want to mess you up a little.” He rested his chin on your tensed shoulder, his next words in a light whisper, and yet it had venom, poisoning your bloodstream. “Calling all the shots, bossing me around, trying to fight me while you look like this?”

You let out a wanton gasp when you feel his callused hand run up and down your inner thigh, his intoxicating, manly warm scent invading your senses.

You think you might have blacked out for a moment when his warm hand made its way to the curve of your waist, the soft material of your camisole being lifted by his fingers as he rubbed your bare skin, his darkened gaze attentive to the pleased expression you made for him.

“Jaehyun—“

“Do you understand now?” You feel his plush lips brush your nape, his hand snaking all the way up your skin. “I thought I could get rid of you without having to do anything, thinking one day you’ll just walk out and leave but you stayed. Then I catch you touching yourself in your room a couple of times because you couldn’t be bothered to shut the fucking door close. You know I’m home.”

You feel your pussy throb as he proceeded to grope your bare breasts, fingers playing with your hardened nipples. “You keep doing it so many times I was starting to think you’re fucking crazy.”

You genuinely thought he wouldn’t be able to find out knowing he doesn’t lurk in your floor — but now you know he does and maybe, there was always this sick fantasy you kept to yourself, thinking that one day he’d catch on and have it all figured out. It was only a matter of time until he can pin you to the wall like now, and have him ruin you when he hates you so much, might as well use that to intensify the obvious sexual tension between the two of you with no romantic feelings involved.

Or…was there?

“I think you want to pursue this for me to fuck you like I hate you, yeah?” He chided, a low chuckle gracing your ear. “Answer.”

“I—“

“What happened to being confident?” You let out a small whine as he palmed your clothed cunt. “If I find you wet, you lose sweetheart.”

He didn’t even let you speak as he slipped his fingers into your underwear, rubbing your clit in circles. You can feel the sudden rush of wetness ooze out of your pussy, soaking the fabric and you couldn’t help but groan, your face heating up.

“Jaehyun… Please…”

You moaned, struggling with the way he has pushed you further down, back arched for him as he continued to play with your pussy, the hard ridge of his cock in his slacks grinding on your ass.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes…” You huffed, any ounce of anger being replaced by pure arousal surging through every part of your body. You don’t even think you could say anything as you attempt to tighten your legs around his hand, not wanting to come right there and then when he hasn’t even plunged a finger or two but he didn’t waste time, cutting you off as he eventually pumped a finger into your pulsating cunt, earning a matching groan of relief from the both of you.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He grinned deviously as you cried onto your arm, muffling the loud moans trying to escape from your throat. “Bet you can come without me fucking my cock into you.”

“F-fuck!” You screamed, eyes clamped shut when he rammed his fingers into you faster, building a steady rhythm until your legs started to shake under your weight, already about to reach your peak when he noticed, cursing at the way you would repeatedly squeeze your walls around his fingers.

“Do you wanna do me a favour?”

He kissed the side of your jaw as you shuddered beneath him, mouth hanging open but no sound threatening to spill out. You thought he has successfully rendered you speechless as your gaze started to blur, teardrops sliding down your rosy cheeks from how good he was giving it to you.

“Sit on my face.”

You almost came on his fingers after he said that if it wasn’t for how fast he slid his fingers out of you to drag you to his bed.

You literally collapsed on his chest as you weakly spread your thighs a part, his strong arms helping you out as he urged you to hover on top of him before he slipped your clothes and underwear off, letting it fall on the carpet.

Once you braced your hands on the headboard, a pinch of hesitation wracking your nerves, you feel him raise his head willingly and push your bare pussy into his waiting mouth, sucking and licking your surging wetness from your pussy, feeling like you’re about to explode.

“Jaehyun— f-fuck, right there…”

You hissed, knuckles turning white on the headboard as he slipped his tongue inside your hole, fucking you with his jaw flexing, hands tight around your waist you were so sure he was going to leave a mark. You fucked his face ruthlessly, him being the most eager one who kept pushing you down and down until he his tongue jutted in and out, licking your slick walls before he lapped onto your clit, ultimately bringing you to the brink of an intense orgasm about to knock you down.

You came in his face in no time, a loud cry leaving your lips as you shuddered violently, wanting to get off his face due to over-sensitivity but he forced you to sit still, his plush mouth tasting the mess you’ve made for him, his free hand cupping his hard cock in his slacks.

You clutched your chest, unable to contain how fast your heartbeats were as you tried to calm down, sliding off him. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, eyes on you, his now moist mouth where your pussy has been, spreading into a contented smile which you lazily returned. You sat there, mouth agape as you watch him unzip his pants, palming his cock right in front of you.

“Come here.”

You crawled to him, his hand reaching out to trace your jaw, thinking he wants you to taste him but he shook his head, his dark brown eyes blown with nothing but carnal desire. He was going to give you the chance to suck him off, but he just couldn’t wait to fuck you, so he urged you to sit, hand positioning the pink head of his cock for you to sink into as you begin to tremble, getting more soaked at the sight of his cock being offered for you to use.

“I want to feel you,” He groaned into your ear as you lifted your ass and brushed your pussy on the head of his cock, letting it rub some off dripping wetness all over your pussy before you carefully sank in, whimpering just halfway in. “Good girl… You can take it.”

Once he was fully in, Jaehyun sunk lower to his pillow, bringing you with him so he could fuck you relentlessly in this position, disabling you from doing anything else but rest on his toned chest and have him fuck you hard as he pleased. You arched your back, one hand fixed to the headboard as Jaehyun thrusted into you, causing you bounce up and down of his cock, his sweet mouth latched on one of your breasts, sucking and biting your nipple ever so lightly.

“H-harder… Fuck, Jaehyun-n!”

You drove your fists to his pillow as you and him shared an intense gaze after he sucked onto your breast and let go. He bit his lip, in complete awestruck with the way you were losing it for him like a good girl. You almost cried yet again from how fierce he was looking into your eyes when he reached out to grab the base of your throat, lightly pressing to the side and choking you as he drove his cock harder and faster, simultaneously hitting your g-spot too to bring you into another mind-blowing orgasm.

“Fucking cum.” He said between gritted teeth as you tilted your head backwards, tears sliding down your face, his cock disappearing in and out of your cunt, the muffled loud noise of lewd squelching between your bodies bouncing off the walls, disrupting the quiet at such ungodly hour. “C’mon pretty girl…Fuck yourself on my cock just like that, yeah? Good, good— fuck you’re so good to me…”

You rode Jaehyun harder, panting as you met his own thrusts, nearing to the edge until you felt something snap in you.

You screamed into your open palm, free hand locked around his wrist choking you when you came for the second time, trembling around his cock, squeezing him until he pulled out, about to ask you where you’d like it when hastily slipped his cock back into your pussy once again, leaving him no choice but force him to spill inside you.

“On pill.”

You chuckled breathlessly, feeling his cum slide out of you and into the base of his cock.

You watch him arch his back with a deep groan, his hands flexing on your waist as you slowly lifted yourself off him only to leave a trail of open-mouthed kiss down his toned abs until you’re just inches away from his cock. You didn’t even let him stop you when you licked the leftover cum from the base of his cock, not wasting any drop which caused him to grab you back up, his thumb wiping some off your lips and slipping it into you mouth for you to swallow.

“You’re fucking nasty. I guess I do like you.”

“Makes the both of us, don’t you think?”

You feel him circle a hand around your waist as you laid there with him, naked, eventually joining him under the covers.

“I agree. What do you think the head maid would say if she knew?”

“That her manifestation worked…? Jaehyun you should know this things. She’s into crystals, for God’s sake.”

“So far, it’s all clear. We’ve enhanced the security everywhere so I think it’s okay. It’s up to Jaehyun though if he’s good with staying at one of the rotational houses within the perimeter. Of course, you’d have to move with him too but you can take one of the personnel with you. We’re gonna have to suspend his public schedules for now until they finish the investigation. “

“Great.” You sighed as you padded down the white-washed hall with Mark, getting sick and tired of the strong antiseptic scent of the hospital. “Watch out for Chenle, too. He looked like he wanted to pluck his IV drip away and fuck out of here.”

“He did want to try it many times, but will do, and hey?”

You spun around as Mark gave you a brown envelope. You tucked it into your purse as he scratched the back of his neck, lips all pursed.

“What.”

“Make sure you don’t have the earbud activated when you’re alone with uh…Jaehyun.”

You blinked, a little confused until you felt your face go in flames, swearing at Mark and then playfully whacking him on the shoulder.

“Whatever!” You rolled your eyes, starting to bolt into a different direction to catch the elevator as Mark broke into a high-pitched laughter, giddily waving you off.

“I won’t tell chief! But I think you gotta buy Jungwoo some condolence wreath!”

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #billionaire!jaehyunforever #kpop smut #killshotbabe #one shot smut #imsorryjungwoo

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lackingspace · 2 months

Text

Scurrilous (Feyd-RauthaXReader)

Chapter 3

Rated: M Word Count: 5.9K Warnings: Harkonnens are their own warning. Violence. Language. lots of banter. Author Note: Giedi Prime is here. And Feyd wants to play.✧

Prev Ch: Admonish

AO3 link: Scurrilous

There were few times you'd made the trip to Giedi Prime in the past. Always for some generalized celebration. Always with your family. And each visit was only a few days at most.

The Harkonnen rarely hosted events that warranted extending Great House invitations. But when they did, they were not to be missed. No one wanted to snub Harkonnen, that privilege was Atreides alone.

At least their functions weren't wholly unpleasant, in fact, if gluttony and extravagance were your prerogative, you'd quite enjoy them.

Everything was different this time. You were alone, the stay was undefined, with no clear reason for the occasion.

The first time you'd come was when you were 6. Glossu had officially been named the na-Baron. The title previously belonged to his father, Abulurd, but in some scandal you were too young to fully grasp– a disownment of Harkonnen to Rabban– the title was stripped from his person. You'd attended with your House to pay the appropriate respects that naming, or renaming as was the case, an heir was due.

All but Atreides came.

You barely remembered that trip. If not for it being the first time you'd sighted the black sun, you would have forgotten it entirely. You had spent far too long straying in and out of the light and shadow pondering the effect. You remembered how your eyes stung on the return to Erif IV.

The next was when you were 8. The Baron had constructed a massive amphitheater to serve as the new gladiatorial tournaments arena. As you understood it now, he had also changed it from predominantly a means to train their militia into a bloody spectacle of execution. As its inaugural fight, all houses were formally invited.

That was the first time you'd watched a man die.

At 13 you were again invited, this time to Feyd's 12th birthday and débutante celebration. A strange occurrence as the only time a débutante occurred was if the person in question was the named heir or female, sometimes both of those were true such as instances like your cousin Josephine, but he was neither. However, Vladimir Harkonnen did as he pleased and his uncle had made it very clear he was to be given the same consideration as the na-Baron– even without the title.

It would be years before you came to understand the type of man that led House Harkonnen and the horrors that were committed within their walls. Even still, with your limited understanding, you still remembered thinking how lamentable it must be to have an uncle like that. Feyd hadn't even been in attendance. An injury– broken rib and sternum– prevented his direct appearance.

His true debut into society came a month later at a House Ecaz function. He'd seemed hesitant, shy even, but nodded when you asked if his ribs made a full recovery.

When you were 15, the Suk school had allowed you enough leave to attend your political duties to house Ezharian. An invitation to attend Feyd's entry into the arena had been sent to all. The show he put on was violent and visceral for someone so young, but his performance was morbidly captivating. Death of men was not uncommon to you now, but they were typically in an infirmary and not surrounded by thunderous cheers. You wondered how much violence he must have suffered to be so ferocious already.

Later, at the feast when all houses made their simpering praises to the hosts, you followed suit. Praised his performance and thanked them for the invitation– the same as all before you. All traces of shyness had long since been replaced by haughtiness.

Before you'd made your way back to the assigned Ezharian table, Feyd had smugly asked how the Suks allowed a doltish female into their field.

In return, you politely inquired if he'd like an accident arranged so he could experience what a doltish female could do firsthand. The curl of his lips had dropped as you walked away.

That was the first of many candid remarks the two of you would trade over the years and it was the last night you spent under the infrared sky. There hadn't been any attractions to Giedi Prime that required invitation in almost a decade. You'd since seen the family at other high society conventions, but not on their home territory.

This would mark the fifth visit in total and the first solo at 25. In all previous trips, the weather had always been fair. As if the atmosphere wanted to join in the novelty, rumbles of thunder could be felt throughout the shuttle. Flashes of lightning peeked through the half-covered viewing window.

The inky rain wouldn't do to be caught in– you'd heard enough stories that the pollution of their atmosphere caused it to leave an oily residue on whatever it bathed. Thankfully, the Harkonnen compound had landing ports that sealed behind craft for this reason.

You weren't too worried about it though. Your focus was pulled by the storm itself and the sight it created. Having retracted the shade into its housing, the view from the window was captivating.

The sky was a monochromatic kaleidoscope of crackling lights within smokey clouds making even the industrial landscape beautiful. The dusky gloom blotted out much of the natural infrared light, emphasizing the small pinpricks of illumination from various buildings– appearing as stars in the dimness.

Its untamed violence was a stark reminder that although brutal, Giedi Prime did hold beauty. One that was enticing when discovered, but buried so far beneath all the hard edges that it was rarely seen.

This was the same kind of lure Erifian seas had from shore. The soft crashes and twisting waves invite one to tread into its depths. If you treaded carelessly, icy riptides were more than happy to drag you under and never let you up, but if you managed to avoid them, the ocean's secrets were a sight to behold.

A much too close flash left you blinded for a moment, blinking rapidly, your vision faded into focus as another struck further away. Its plasma appears black to your eyes before dissipating to a white mist and then into nothingness.

For the brief second a strike occurs, everything is illuminated in its wake– flaring infrared back to life before the shadows consume it again. Brief blindness was a worthy trade for the sight.

You were almost sad when the view was swallowed on your descent into the Harkonnen compound.

Lowering the window cover as the ship's elevation shifts before the telltale signs of a safe landing. That was signal enough to stand and stretch your legs. It would only be moments before the doors lowered and you were assailed by a barrage of attendants. Sharking life back into your bones seemed needed if you were to deal with people properly.

The black heels Cleo had chosen were fashionable, more sturdy than you’d expect, but damn if they were much too high for your comfort and the ache had set in even as you were seated. But pain was good. It would remind you to stay on your guard.

Cleo had done that on purpose you supposed. She was a clever little thing. More your confidant than a servant. She'd packed each outfit meticulously and provided instruction on what occasion they'd best fit.

She'd also seen fit to stain your hands before your departure. A traditional Erifian custom utilizing the argena root, a herb native to your planet that stains skin silver when mixed with acid. She'd made an elaborate design both geometric and organic, artfully weaving your House sigil into the pattern.

It matched well with the dress she'd stuffed you in. A black leather bodice that hugged tightly until your midriff when the material quickly fell in two strips on your front and back down to your ankles– silver roses inlaid at its bottom edges.

Your hips and legs on display, but not completely exposed thanks to the thin black gossamer underdress and delicate silver chains at your hips holding the heavier material in place. A deep carmine cloth looped around your back and through the silver hoops dangling from the stiff shoulder caps before free-falling towards your feet.

Your house colors on full display– Black, silver, and carmine. A reminder to all who gazed upon you that an Ezharian was among them. Even the jewelry she'd selected was a subtle tell of your heritage. Necklace a silver geometric rose design that encloses your upper chest and mid-neck like a cage.

Lifting your silvery fingertips to straighten your hair and ensure the twisted chain is still in place on your forehead. The effect caused the inked diamond to appear like the jewel within a circlet.

It was effective for its reminder, though the warmth it provided was subpar. But you had little use for warmth in a place like this anyway. You would need to be demure, witty, and no small amount of cunning– qualities more suited to the cold.

Hearing the vents of the ship become louder and the rush of non-recycled air clued you in that the door had finally lowered to allow your exit. The soft echoes of the outside thunder were another indication that you should have been rushed by the staff at this point, but they’d yet to enter. Harkonnen had always been particular in their commands, perhaps their instruction was to wait for your exit before attending to their task?

If that was the case, it'd be best to exit and let the work commence before some imagined disobedience occurred. Would there be a welcoming party? All times before it was some steward who welcomed your family with politeness and instructions. Would this stick with tradition or be another surprise?

Stepping out of the shuttle’s warmth into the chill of the landing dock the attendants were indeed waiting. Five standing in a line with their eyes towards the floor. Their identical black outfits marked them for what they were. A steward stood perpendicular to their line with his hands behind his back, “I hope– I hope your t-travel was w-well, My lady.”

Familiarity, at last. Although, is that a stutter or something else? Releasing the breath you hadn't realized you were holding slowly as his words registered. The quiver in his voice spoke more of nervousness rather than a speech impediment. But what reason would he have for anxiousness? It couldn't have been you. Those were his first words and you had yet to respond. Something else must have already shaken him.

The little reputation you had shouldn't be fearsome in the least nor enough to reach their ears. It was wholly benign in comparison to those he served. Keeping your face neutral and your stride steady on your way down the ramp, “It was comfortable, thank you…” waiting for his reply to your questioning tone, “F-forgive me, my– my lady. Emil, I am Emil.”

As your heels clicked down onto the solid level flooring you waved a hand in dismissal, “Nothing to forgive, Emil.” Now that you were a few steps from the ramp, he made a clap and the line of attendants began toward the ship in single file. Standing next to the man you watched them enter the ship, “Are you to take me to the guest wing then?”

The man's jaw twitched and now that you were in closer proximity you could see the sweat upon his brow, “Yes, my lady.” From your new position, you could see his hands were wringing together behind his back. Your eyes narrowed as you assessed him.

His breathing was elevated, sweating, but his color seemed fine– no flushing or paleness that wasn't natural. ‘Something is causing him excessive anxiety. An order? If he is to try an assault on me, they chose their would-be assassin very poorly. I’m almost insulted.’

“Well,” inclining your hand towards the direction you last knew led towards the guest wing, “Shall we or is there some other reason I should stand here in uncomfortable heels?”

His eyes widened as if he committed some great offense that you had to initiate the request, “Yes! At on–” A disapproving tsking sounded from the shadowed corridor followed by slow firm footsteps.

Raising an eyebrow at the sound and turning towards its origin revealed Feyd-Rautha slinking out of the darkness. He wore a fitted black leathered outfit. Edges of the material embossed with a blocky industrial pattern indicative of Harkonnen fashion. At his shoulders, two darker rectangles were stitched much like the traditional designs used in their anointments before ceremonies. ‘Ah, the source of his discomfort.’

His dark eyes appeared to glitter as he passed varying lights on his walk towards you. The occasions you saw him were infrequent enough that you were always struck by the unusual allure he possessed. Delicate bone structure set against eyes like knives. An unassuming strength until someone stepped out of line. Teasing mischief until anger ignited.

He'd always been a strangely enticing individual to be around.

“Does a lady's presence stupefy you or do I need to cut out what my uncle hasn’t?” ‘Ah. There it is.’ The reason you'd never pursued anything more than banter with him. ‘His mouth generally leads to more trouble than its worth.’

The lightness of his voice didn't match the stinging accusation of his words, “You stood there as if she was to wait on you.”

How long had Feyd been standing there awaiting your arrival? Huddled in the dark scrutinizing his staff? The image was almost enough to make you laugh, but here laughter was meant to be wielded as a weapon in conversation, not truly for amusement.

If his attendant was thoroughly in the throes of an anxiety attack as you'd left the transport, there must have been some exchanged warning– more likely a threat– not too recent, but not excessively long ago either.

‘As if he needed an excuse for pain beyond breathing the same air.’

Fluttering your eyes to avoid rolling them at his nonchalant manner, “Lord Harkonnen,” you inclined your head in a greeting bow, “How kind of your uncle to send you instead of the na-Baron.”

To anyone outside of Great House politics, that may seem like a snide remark, but in your circle of society, it was well-known how vexing you were to Glossu Rabben. You quickly scanned his form, “You look well.” And he did. The suit hugged his form enough to see more muscle than he’d usually display at a court gathering. You couldn’t say you disliked the sight.

The smug little smirk stayed in place as his gaze rolled from the servant to you, “Lady Ezharian, you look…” He made a show of dragging his eyes across your form as he sounded the words. By the time he finally reached your face again, the smirk had flattened and the look in his eye changed from duplicitous into something smokey with a hint of yearning. His voice took on a gravelly quality as he finally completed his assessment, “Vibrant.”

His shoulder rolled in a shrug to relieve tension and you could tell that wasn't quite the word he wanted to use but the pretense of civility was still in place. Pressing your tongue against the back of your teeth to prevent the acerbic remark ready to spill from your lips for the perusal. If he wanted to appear civil, so would you. For now.

If he asked, you would admit that his coquettishness had improved since you'd seen him last. But there was no need to inflate whatever ego he'd since gained by confirming he’d finally figured out how to fan the flames of desire.

“And my uncle made no request. I’m here because it pleases me.” Blackened teeth peaked from behind a half smile-half smirk. Your eyes narrowed at the sight, ‘That's a new development...’

Matching his nonchalant quality you jutted a hip and tilted your head thoughtfully, “How flattering. I had no idea my presence inspired such fervor in you.”

His look transformed into an isolating glower– dark focus so intense that you almost forgot the shaking man standing between you. The half smile fell back into a full smirk as he grumbled at you, “Fangs poised already, little viper?” The question was said more like praise than reproval.

His voice raised as he addressed the steward, but his gaze never moved from you, “Emil,” that was the sharpest you'd heard him yet and the man visibly flinched at the sound, “Why are you still standing?” The even tone didn’t betray his ire yet, but you knew him well enough to expect what was coming next.

If a stiff breeze were to blow through the compound, it'd likely knock this man over with how unsteady he was. You ran a hand through the length of hair that hung free down your back waiting for the show Feyd wanted to put on. Whatever was about to come out of the Harkonnen’s mouth was likely to be explosive, spiteful, and wholly unpleasant.

After another moment when the man had still yet to respond or move, Feyd's eyes ripped themselves from your form to pin him with a scathing glare. Taking the few steps forward to come within arms reach of the steward, he hissed, “I said…” Watching as Feyd placed a hand on the shaking shoulder you could see the clear pressure he applied both by the amount of crinkling in the fabric and the wince Emil displayed, “Why are you still standing?”

The last word was snarled savagely as he pushed the man to his knees. “Your incompetence reflects poorly on my name. Beg her forgiveness.” The shaking intensified as the man half sobbed at your feet. ‘Well, his dramatics are certainly unchanged.’

The bubbling sound made any sputtered words incoherent. Feyd perceived the babbling sobs as another trespass against his hospitality. Kicking the man in the side, albeit softer than you expected, “Kiss her prettily polished feet.” Another kick to his ribs, “If she deems it acceptable, I might even let you keep your tongue.” Finally, his booted foot fell hard and heavy on the man's hand, “Beg!”

That was enough for Emil to choke out a clear apology for his ineptitude, the shakes of his body infiltrating each gurgled word. Feyd looked pleased with his handiwork and you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling any longer. With a sigh you chided, “Feyd, my patience is already thin from travel, I have little left for your antics– either end it now or leave it for your private amusement.”

His disappointment was palpable by the scowl replacing the smirk, “How dull…I had hoped you’d request my knife.” A snort almost left you at that– almost– but you contained it for a huff instead, “Ignorance doesn't suit you. You know my conditioning.”

He rolled his own eyes and his voice took on a mocking drawl, “Ah, yes. Your aversion to causing harm like the good little Suk doctor you are.” Continuing to scowl down at the shuddering servant, “Leave us.” That was all the man needed to try to leave the scene, but as he pulled away his arm yanked painfully in the socket. Feyd's foot was still crushing his hand and wasn’t letting up. A choked whimper left the servant as the pressure only increased if the deepening grey of his hand was any indication.

There was little you could do for him, not that you wanted to, this was typically Harkonnen savagery after all, albeit from you to interrupt, but your feet did tire of standing in these shoes. “Would you like to escort him or Ito a room? If torture is more enticing, I'm sure I can find the way myself.”

The jaw clench was your only indication he'd heard you through whatever violence clouded his mind. His answer came a moment later when his boot slowly released the hand and the creature disappeared faster than you'd thought his shaking legs could carry him.

Feyd’s complaint was quickly hurled at you while you both watched his servant scurry away, “We both know your conditioning allows for more fun than that. What is it you once said to me?”

Instantly, you knew what he was referring to. Your eyes momentarily widened in surprise, that must have been three or four years back now. The fact he remembered it was dangerous and startling. He was intelligent enough to recognize its significance, but it was surprising he recalled it so easily.

You were under the impression Feyd only frequented your side at parties because you were more than a conniving halfwit and responded to his banter with equal vitriol. But if he recalled that…’He pays much more attention to my words than I give him credit for.’

“Only ignorant men believe themselves absolved of murder.”

Decidedly something you shouldn't have said, but between wine and teasing conversation you’d let it slip. You weren't so delusional or indoctrinated to think yourself incapable. It didn’t matter that it was true either– everyone had a breaking point regardless of what the imperial rhetoric toted– but if the Suk school heard you say it, well, you didn’t want to find out what consequences would come of it.

If the need ever arose for Feyd to persuade or coerce you into something, he had the perfect leverage. There was no doubt in your mind that he knew it and that he would use it should it come down to it… If that time ever came, you’d show him true venom. But he hadn’t mentioned it as a threat, so until he turns on you, it is best to give it as little attention as possible. ‘And to be careful with my words in the future.’

A satisfied hum sounded from his chest followed the confirming recognition of, “That's it,” as he turned away from the corridor his steward sought shelter in. Facing towards you with a scowl as he stepped closer, “Travel makes you petulant.” The tension he’d unwittingly dragged to the surface of your shoulders relaxed as you snicker at his accusation, “That it does.”

His size still dwarfed you– even in heels, the top of your head only coming to his nose. He lifted a covered arm out for you to take. A courteous court gesture that held no real purpose here other than a show of his respect for your position– or maybe habit. It wasn’t uncommon to see your hand rest against his forearm when moving through crowds of surrounding noble families.

But you two were alone for perhaps the first time. ‘It must be habit then.’

Your contemplation of his offer passed too slowly for him if the snippety grunt was any indication, “Well?”

Your silvered hand came up to accept the offer, it stood out starkly against his forearm, “If it please you, my lord.”

His non-existent brow raised at the silver, “Did you think we’d forgotten the Ezharian name? Or is this extra preening to turn my head?” Although skin staining was a traditional Erifian custom, you rarely sat for the time the process took. It was a rare sight when you bore the marks. But there was no need to confirm you'd done it for another layer of protection– that your father had demanded you sit for Cleo to apply it as a subtle reminder of which family they were entertaining.

Smoothing the hand against his arm, cool material slid beneath your fingertips, drawing both your eyes to the way the intricate designs sat against your skin, “Hm, I have occasionally wished to turn your head.” Dragging your eyes slowly up his arm to lock gazes, “Slowly,” fluttering your lashes at him as it was your turn to mock, “Over an open flame.”

His smile was a slow unfurling thing that bespoke of the perverse delight your words sparked, “Finally, the little vicious ice bitch comes out to play.” Your heels clicked as he started a slow stride towards what you assumed to be your room, “I could kill you for such a taunt.”

Your lips pursed in a clear sign of disbelief, “Come now, who would you speak with at tedious soirees then? Ward Ecaz? Hector Metulli? Neither are as stimulating as I am.” The doubt was replaced by a taunting haughtiness, “Or perhaps you aim to replace me with Nyla Galloway?” The poor simpleton of a girl was always panting after him. Always trying to initiate conversation and trailed his shadow unless you were already at his side.

She would balk if Feyd ever spoke to her the way he did you. Chuckling as you continued the jest, “She's been vying for your attention these last few years. I'm sure she'd be happy for my disappearance.” Peeking at his side profile, showed his nose scrunched in disgust and strong jaw grinding at your words, “The only attention she’s worthy of is that of my knife.”

That brought a slithering satisfaction to wriggle within your stomach. It had nothing to do with jealousy and all to do with getting under his skin. You were one of the few to manage it and continue to draw breath. The compulsion to goad him further of Nyla’s attention was hard-pressed to bite down, but it was unwise to continue, so you changed your approach.

“I think,” your words pulled his attention down to your scrutiny– eyes betraying his irritation at the previous notion, “You enjoy my malice too much to be rid of it.” Turning your gaze forward away from his penetrating regard you continued steadily down the corridor.

Keeping your voice light– musing even– and not as snide or invasive as your tongue wished while asking, “Is that not why you always keep our talks out of earshot from anyone of consequence? Why you have never alerted my father– or your uncle for that matter– to the very reprehensible things I say to you?”

Grumbling unhappily, affirming his threat was idle and you'd called it correctly, “You've made your point, I find your venom an enjoyable irritant.”

Pulling real confessions from Feyd was hard fought. Like safely trespassing through a dire wolf’s territory. Generally unwise and not worth the trouble. But if you did manage it, there was a deep satisfaction that bubbled at the accomplishment. This time, the feeling settled low in your chest mingling with a slithering heat running down your spine, “Good, I prefer the dull press of a knife to my throat than a sharp one.”

You knew that was a mistake the moment it left your lips. It was too easy an opportunity. The chuckle he released was as instant as your regret. The purr of amusement was obnoxiously thick as he cooed, “Do you think of my blade pressing into you often?”

Refusing to look at him directly, your peripheral was still enough to sight the devilish grin on display, “Is that what you fantasize about in our time apart?” The smug glee triggered irritation in you that threatened to consume everything else. “It was a metaphor, nothing more.” He wouldn't take that for an answer though, not when you'd made teasing so easy.

“It doesn't have to be. I’m more than willing to press whatever you’d like against you, though I do admit your blood coating my knives is an enticing thought.” Your reply was a very quick and very indelicate jab of your elbow into his ribs, “You’re too bold.”

He didn't even stumble from the action, only let out a responding groan that was much less of a pained sound and more of a pleasured one than you'd intended. "Masochist.” The slithering warmth was still present and it sunk lower to settle between your legs at the sound of his groan. He shouldn't be allowed to sound like that.

“Careful, Ezharian, if someone sees your abuse they might think you enjoy my company enough to pick up habits. How repulsive that would be for your perfectly pleasing reputation.” A scoff instantly left your lips at his goading words.

He had always been teasingly suggestive with you– a stimulating jest that he continued to push until you’d bite back at him. Narrowing your eyes and looking up at his pleased grin, “They would be blind to it unless I stabbed you openly in the middle of some event. And still, it's more likely you'd be seen for the offense. Your Harkonnen presence has corrupted my prudence.”

He looked even more pleased as he was contemplating the scenario, “Now there’s a thought. I’d enjoy every second of that corruption. Especially if Moritani was made to watch.” Your face scrunched at the mention of Cesare Moritani. Feyd detested him for no reason in particular as far as you could tell. But sometimes with Feyd, reason didn’t enter the picture. Before you could become too lost in thought his next words pulled you back, “You'd still face consequences for assaulting someone of my station.”

Crinkling your brow in disbelief, that's where he wanted to take the conversation, “Your station? Really?” He hummed in confirmation with that stupid grin still in place. You shook your head at the incredulity of it. He was making some poor flippant remark, likely probing for a mock apology for the imagined assault, but if that was his aim, you were in the wrong mood to grovel.

If he wanted you playful, speaking of rank was the wrong approach. You had very sturdy ground to stand against him in that regard and he would hate any reminder of that fact. Which meant it was the perfect response.

With a hiss, you turned on him, “Well then, my lord, should I remind you why we can speak so candidly?” Slowing your pace until you came to a complete stop which had the desired effect of Feyd stopping with you.

Turning his body towards you in a mock show of rapt attention, you lift your hand from his forearm to brush imaginary dust off the chest of his suit, “Until your dear darling uncle pulls the title from Glossu, you are not na-Baron.”

Just because his uncle does treat him as if he were the named heir, that doesn't give him the rank officially. The shift in his eyes went from playful to an unamused smolder. He stood straighter and stepped forward invading your space, but you didn’t bow away.

Head craned back to maintain eye contact as you refused to move even when his chest brushed yours. The clench of his jaw drew your eye to the flexing muscles before narrowing as they moved back up to his leering ones. This was the closest he'd ever been. Much too close by proper standards, rumors and whispers would have spread from this display if anyone were here to witness it. Your father certainly would have pulled you away at this point.

But you were alone. And neither of you seemed to mind the proximity.

The stare was intense– his pinched brow would say it was anger, but if you had to name it, it felt more like burning hunger. It affected you more than you’d like to admit. His hazel eyes were so expressive this close. Taking a deep breath you spat each word while heat ignited in your lower stomach once again, “You are the son of Harkonnen’s second born and I am the daughter of Ezharian's second born.”

You could see his eyes drop from your gaze down lower. To your lips or your throat? It didn’t matter, to know that you were affecting him just as he affected you was pleasing to the roiling heat in your veins. After a moment, his eyes dragged back to yours and his face seemed even closer than before.

His breath tickled your cheek as you smiled maliciously at him, if either of you leaned closer your lips could easily brush. But you had more to say. “What's more, I am the only child of my father. We both hold no titles, but by lineage I outrank you.”

Letting your smile fall into a smirk similar to the one he so fondly wore, “However, I am only female, so far as it stands, we are to be considered equals.”

His fingers lightly dragged up your forearm towards the dangling silver hoop at your shoulder, “Equals.” It wasn’t said with any strong emotion attached to it– only repeating the word in his raspy husk with no denial or objection. A shiver ran through you at his light touch. He reached for the carmine silk that hung free, his fingers bunched the fabric into his hand, crinkling its smooth appearance as he all but growled, “My darling viper,” The look in his eye was now openly wanting and it had your thighs clenching.

He had no right to be this tempting. The flare of his jaw should be offensive, the anger in his eyes should flare your own, and his closeness should spark disgust. None of it should flare desire, but your body was being as unruly as everything else today.

In your musing he leaned in towards your ear, lips lightly brushing the edge, shocking you back to reality as he whispered, “You can be such a quarrelsome little cunt.”

The combination of feeling his lips and hearing the praise in such derogatory words sent another pulse of heat through you. The moment seemed to pass slowly as he shifted slightly and you felt the light press of his plush lips against your pulse point– not a kiss, but it was something. Something he shouldn’t have done.

You drew in a sharp breath before he pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet. You’d always known he was attractive, you weren’t blind, but in that moment there was a smooth sensuality you wouldn’t normally attribute to him. His eyes trailed back down to your lips and you felt your breathing turn heavy, you wanted him to do it, but he shouldn’t. His eyes flicked back to yours as his head tilted.

Quietly, you murmured his name, “Feyd.” It was breathless and full of an unvoiced plea– for him to stop or to continue, you weren’t sure. This was dangerous…And beyond stupid.

For as flirtatious as he could be in conversation, it had always stayed just that. He had never crossed that line physically. It was only ever a light touch to your hand, a brief press of his fingers to your shoulder, a hand pressed to your back if being directed through crowds, nothing lingering that could be confused for indecent. If this was how interactions were to be without an interloper observing, you were in trouble. This hadn’t been something you considered before now.

“We shouldn’t.” Your voice was a shock even to yourself. You hadn't even felt the words leave your lips. His answer was calm, unbothered, as his voice gruffly vibrated his agreement, “I know.”

But he didn’t pull back immediately. His eyes continued to scan your face and you could see the conflict there. If you had no rank, he could do with you as he pleased, but you were a Lady of a Great House. That made things vastly more complicated.

Finally, he dropped the scrunched fabric and pulled away. He straightened his top before offering his arm once again. Accepting the gesture the two of you resumed the walk as if nothing happened.

#dune part two #dune movie #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fics #writing #fic writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #I was going to try for a medium burn #you know like 20k words before they do anything #but idk if I can manage that

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jjungkookislife · 5 months

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La Boda

pairing: bts x f. reader

genre: exes to lovers, some angst, fluff 18+

summary: Your seven exes attend your wedding ceremony and don't plan to leave without you.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: mention of fainting, mentions of cheating, mention of fighting

a/n: title credit and inspiration from la boda by Aventura

date: April 20, 2024

“If there’s anyone who objects to this matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant says looking around the room to make sure nobody is raising their hands or rising from their seat.

As he’s about to move on after no objections, the doors burst open. The groom is surprised, as are the wedding guests, but the bride is wide-eyed as she clutches her bouquet to her chest. Her eyes water as she sees not one, but multiple of her exes, seven to be exact.

The groom looks at the bride in confusion as the first ex walks down the aisle. He’s wearing a tuxedo and looks smashing. He’s easily the tallest out of the bunch as they all file in, one behind the other.

Time slows down, everything fades to the background as the bride follows their movements. Namjoon is leading the pack of her exes and her heart flutters against her will. Tears roll down her cheeks as she sees Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook following him.

The bride’s mother faints as she recognizes them, her husband catching her in his arms. The maid of honor looks at the bride and then the exes before stepping aside, and giving the bride a thumbs up.

“I-We know this isn’t the best time to do this, my love,” Namjoon starts as he reaches the altar, stepping to the left when Seokjin steps up.

“But we couldn’t let you go through with this.”

Yoongi nods, his deep gaze penetrating the bride’s body, the bouquet falling to her side. “We love you. We’ve always loved you.”

Hoseok steps up when Yoongi moves to the left. The bride’s eyes are tearing up, sniffles are heard through the building as everyone holds their breath while the groom is fuming. He turns to his groomsmen, who shrug, unsure of what to do. The last thing anyone was expecting was for the bride’s exes to show up. Honestly, the wedding party was too into the drama to intercept.

“Please, give us another chance. We won’t let you go this time,” Hoseok pleads, stepping forward to take the bride’s hands in his. The bride swallows thickly, nearly sobbing when Hoseok steps aside and Jimin steps up.

She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this distraught. “He can’t love you like we do. If you marry him, you’ll be taking our hearts with you.”

Taehyung can’t wait his turn. Stepping up beside Jimin, taking his hand in his and yours in his other hand. “Please, tell me this is a nightmare. You can’t marry him, he’s not us.”

The groom scoffs. Jimin has to hold Taehyung back from lunging at him.

It’s chaos.

Complete chaos.

“He’s not the man you think he is, love. Do you know he was the one who planted everything to make it look like we were cheating on you? As if we have eyes for anyone else,” Taehyung grits his teeth.

The bride turns to her groom. “Is that true?”

“Are you going to listen to them? This is insanity!” The groom shouts, turning to demand the ceremony continue.

Jimin and Taehyung get pulled away and the youngest ex-boyfriend steps up. Tears well up in his eyes as his dark, fluffy hair falls over his eyes. The bride’s breath catches in her throat as she takes him in. He’s wearing a tuxedo like the others but his waist is the most prominent and he smiles softly when he catches her gaze.

Jungkook clears his throat, his hand reaching for the bride’s. She gives her hand to him easily, a triumphant smile appearing on his lips as he raises a brow to the groom. She’s theirs, always has been, and always will be.

“She’s never been yours, this is just a nightmare,” Jungkook says, directed at the groom. “We’re here to fight for her. We’re not leaving this place without her.”

Jungkook turns back to the bride. “You remember how in love we were. Swore we’d always be together, love each other, not even death could do us part.”

“Remember all those nights we’d climb up to your balcony, to hold you on nights you couldn’t sleep?” Namjoon asks as he steps forward once again.

“Or those love letters we used to write when we couldn’t stop thinking about each other?” Seokjin asks, biting his bottom lip.

“All those nights we made love under the stars, promising forever with every kiss?” Yoongi asks, no longer able to contain his emotions as tears flow freely from his eyes.

The bride nods, sniffling as she squeezes Jungkook’s hand.

“You can’t marry him! We all want what’s best for you, and he’s not it,” Jimin glares at the groom, who’s long since stopped paying attention. He’s trying to see which of his groomsmen will help him fight the seven men.

“Please, baby. We belong together. You know it, and we know it,” Taehyung states and Jungkook nods. His hand cups the bride’s face, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. She looks up at him with tear-filled eyes, memories of their relationship hitting her hard.

“Don’t marry him, please,” Jungkook begs softly.

The bride finally drops the bouquet on the ground, and the guests do a collective gasp. The wedding’s over.

The bride lunges forward, her arms wrapping around Jungkook to kiss him. He welcomes her gladly in his embrace, kissing her through his tears. A laugh bubbles in his chest, giggling against her lips when she pulls away to kiss Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon.

Taking Namjoon’s hand, the bride smiles. “Uh, wedding over?”

The maid of honor laughs, cheering the bride on before the bride’s family cheers her on, never too fond of the groom.

“Let’s go!” Yoongi exclaims.

“We’ve got a car waiting,” Hoseok informs the bride as all the exes hold hands, running out of the building with the bride.

The bride giggles, her heart soaring as she gets into the getaway car with all the loves of her life. She was about to make the worst mistake of her life, thinking she was in love with the groom when in reality he had been nothing but a placeholder, a replacement for her seven exes.

Her love for them never vanished, never dimmed. As she sits in the middle of all of them, her heart flutters in her chest. She never has to leave them again, they’re all hers and she’s all theirs.

“To the bride!” Jimin cheers once everyone has a flute of champagne in their hands. His six boyfriends hold their glasses up as the bride flushes with heat, a shy smile on her lips.

“To the bride!”

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x you #polyam!bts #bts one shot

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yes-i-read-sappho · 2 months

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So you want to read "No Longer Human"

One of the things that fascinates me most in this world is translation, and when it comes to reading literature not originally in English I always wonder how accurate what I'm really reading is, especially seeing how much a work can vary from translation to translation.

With this in mind, I set out with a friend to read all three official English translations of Osamu Dazai's Ningen Shinkkaku (best known in English as No Longer Human) in order to figure out which one was the best.

DISCLAIMER: I do not read Japanese so my ability to comment on the actual accuracy to the original text is limited, so most of what I am saying here is based in the readability in English etc. (That being said, if you know more about the original and the accuracy to the original of any of the translations below PLEASE let me know I would be so so interested.)

With no further ado, here are the translations in the order I read them:

1. No Longer Human, trans. Donald Keene (1958)

This translation is easily the most familiar to English speakers (for BSD fans, this is where you can find "page 21, 'Mine has been a life of much shame.'") The main pro of this translation is that is very easily accessible in the literal sense. On top of this, the writing style is relatively easy to understand, if a bit antiquated (see: published 1958).

Unfortunately, while much of the vagueness in this book is almost definitely a consequence of Dazai's own writing, this translation is far from perfect. When discussing it with my friend, we realized that a confusing scene (pages 153-154 in the paperback) actually appears to be a consequence of a mistranslation, as both of the other translations we read presented the same contrary interpretation.

Overall, Keene's translation is fine but can feel incomplete.

2. A Shameful Life (Ningen Shikkaku), trans. Mark Gibeau (2018)

New title alert!

Gibeau's translation felt more complete than Keene's (and I may have gone a little insane using my limited Japanese knowledge to see if a single detail was accurate which it did appear to be). The only real downside to this translation was the lack of italics used within the text, which made it a bit more difficult to follow at times when it came to the character's inner thoughts. That being said, I actually like this as a literary device, especially given that the framing of the novel is in the form of personal journals.

What really made this version stand out to me, however, wasn't necessarily the translation itself, but how the translator addresses it. This book provides a translator's afterward (rather than an introduction as in the other two) where Gibeau gets into the historical and cultural context necessary to really understand the novel, including the I-novel literary movement and Dazai's own life. This really helps readers (especially those less familiar with Japanese history and culture) to really understand some of the nuances of the novel, while the placement at the end - pointedly - first allows the text to stand on its own. Also, in addition to the afterward, Gibeau also provides a brief "Note on the Current Translation," where he explains the merits of multiple translations and a bit of his own process/experience translating, which I enjoyed reading.

3. No Longer Human, trans. Juliet Winters Carpenter (2023)

(I don't know why this cover image is massive but oh well.)

Most of what I remember about this translation is wanting to like it more than I did. I was excited to read a translation by a woman because of how female characters are treated in the novel, but I do not remember there being a distinct difference. (The only notable difference was in the specificity of the language used at one point in the first journal, but this wasn't related to gender and I'm not going to get into it here.)

This translation initially endeared itself to me by directly referencing Bungo Stray Dogs in the introduction for its role in increasing the popularity of the novel among English speaking fans (even though Winters Carpenter somewhat misrepresents the series), but the introduction as a whole does very little to contextualize the novel, especially not compared to Gibeau.

Broadly speaking, I found this translation forgettable.

In conclusion,

I would recommend Gibeau's translation over the other two. However, each translation has its advantages and disadvantages, and you will still get the story from all of them if that's what you care about most.

#this is so long oh my god #uh #actually need to stop stressing over this like it's an essay for a grade and not a post on tumblr dot com #anyways #i hope at least one person finds this interesting and/or useful #no longer human #dazai osamu #ningen shikkaku #japanese literature #translation #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #okay i think that's everything

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tkwrites · 9 months

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Before I Meet Your Parents... - Quinn Hughes x Sarah (ofc)

Photos from Pinterest

Title: Before I Meet Your Parents…

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah (OFC)

Warnings: Crying, Grief, Smut (18+ only), oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving)

Summary: As Sarah prepares to meet Quinn’s parents, she’s bombarded with new feelings and situations, as well as trying to manage her own life. A very worried Quinn helps her get to the bottom of it and does everything he can to make it better.

Word Count: 4,600

Comments: I began writing Sarah meeting Quinn’s parents and realized I was missing this crucial step. Stories like these help me process my own grief, and I hope they can be helpful for you, too, even if you’re not experiencing a big loss. Taking care of ourselves can be difficult sometimes. Please remember that self care isn’t selfish - nor is it selfish to ask for what you need.

The holidays have been…an experience, and while I was writing, I wasn’t finding the solid chunks of time I’ve had in the past. With the busiest holidays done, I was able to finish this, and hope to write a lot more with the break from work between holidays.

Thank you for your patience and support and love for Quinn and Sarah and my writing. I hope you enjoy.

Before I Meet Your Parents…

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The week Quinn’s parents were coming into town turned into a total clusterfuck.

First, there were the Canucks standings. Quinn point blank refused to talk about their position, not wanting to jinx anything. “It’s bad enough that I have to talk to the media about it after every game. I'm not talking about it at home.”

Even without his commentary, Sarah knew enough from reading and following the league stats, to know the Canucks were headed to the finals, bringing playoff hockey to Vancouver for the first time in nine years. It was a huge deal, and if all went to plan, they were expected to clinch a spot in the bracket in the next two games.

His parents wanted to be in the arena for the historic occasion when their son led his team to the Stanley Cup finals in his first year as captain.

In addition to the will-they-won't-they stress of the finals, Lexie Demko had called and left a message for her about getting WAG jackets. Sarah had to look up what they were, and the idea of showing up as an official “WAG” to any game, let alone a playoff game, was incredibly intimidating.

She and Quinn weren’t even officially official yet. She’d been thinking of him as her boyfriend for a few weeks and had no interest in dating anyone else. Unless he was seeing someone while she was in school, she knew he wasn't seeing anyone else either, but they hadn’t formally defined anything about their relationship.

On top of all this, she was prepping for her own finals. Although they were more than three weeks away, the two tests and publication project were looming over her like an albatross. She had to get a B or better, or she would be out of her program, and back home with her education visa voided.

The prospect of the work it would take to finish her semester well, and the possibility of stepping into the world of a WAG and meeting Quinn’s parents had her discombobulated and spending long stretches of time at the aquarium with Walter, trying to wrap her mind around everything.

As she left a couple of nights before his parents were set to arrive, Rick stopped her, “I think your man is at the front desk.”

It felt like she had to suck her mind from a thick fog to even register his words. “Hu?”

“I’m pretty sure your man is up front,” he repeated, “they wouldn’t let him back. Are you okay?”

She waved off his question and walked to the front of the building. Quinn was indeed there, looking distressed.

“Is everything okay?”

“Can I give you a ride home?”

“Sure, if you want.” Didn't he have plans with one of his teammates tonight?

Anxious thoughts dripped into her mind. She knew she hadn't been very communicative lately. Was he breaking up with her?

Quinn took her hand and led her to his car.

Once tucked inside where people couldn’t overhear, he asked, “is something wrong? You haven’t come over to study the past three days, and you didn’t answer any of my texts today.”

She looked at the bag at her feet, feeling far away. “I'm sorry. My phone’s been buried in my backpack all day,” she confessed.

“I just feel like you’re…” he stopped himself, not even wanting to voice that thought. “Is it because you’re nervous to meet my parents?”

A heavy feeling took up residence in her stomach. “No,” she said slowly.

It wasn’t quite the whole truth, but also wasn’t a total lie. Logically, she wasn’t that nervous to meet them, but her emotions ran themselves into dizzy, knotted up circles whenever she thought about it. Things weren’t making sense. God, she felt so… she felt so off. There was more to this mood she was in than nerves, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

His hand, warm and comforting, covered her knee. “Sarah, what’s going on?”

All at once, she was choking back tears.

“Can we go to your place?” she asked, very much not wanting to lose it in his jeep in the middle of Stanley Park, or in her bedroom where Eunice would jump to conclusions and tell her she ought to break up with Quinn if he was making her cry.

The way her voice shook made Quinn gulp. “Yeah, of course,” he said before starting the car and going home.

When they got there, her steps to the elevator were heavy, as if she were dragging some heavy sledge he couldn’t see.

“Sar, what’s going on?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she pursed her lips and willed the tears not to fall until they were in his house.

Just as she suspected, someone joined them once they reached the lobby level. They shared a tense, silent ride for 12 floors as Sarah mentally recited the anatomy of the stingray to keep her tears from falling in front of a stranger.

“You’re kind of scaring me,” he said gently as the door swung shut behind them.

On top of everything else, now she was letting Quinn down. Her hands fluttered up to cover her face as her tears finally broke free.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, taking her arms and gently trying to pull her hands away from her face.

“I don’t know.”

“You…don’t know?” he repeated, a little dumbfounded.

Her hands dropped in defeat. “I don’t know,” she repeated, finding more tears falling. What was wrong with her?

Heart beating faster with worry, he took her backpack off, leaving it in the entryway before guiding her to the couch.

“Are you upset with me? Did I do something?”

“No.”

“I don’t…” he started, then stopped. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered. He was really scared now. If he didn’t do anything, and she didn’t seem to be injured, he couldn’t understand what the problem would be.

“Can you hold me?”

He drew her into his arms.

After a few comforting moments - focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat - she was able to voice something. “I’m so overwhelmed.”

“With what?” he asked, running a hand up and down her back. At least they had a clear direction. He could work with that.

“With everything. With school and WAG jackets and…” oh, fuck. Of course this was what this was about. She should know by now. “And your parents,” she finished, breaking into more tears.

“Are you that scared of my parents?” he asked, pulling back trying to see her face.

He knew meeting the parents was a big, intimidating step, but she’d handled meeting Brady, and that first uncomfortable call with Luke and a very guarded Jack with so much grace, he hadn’t expected her to be nervous, let alone so upset. “I think they’ll love you. I can’t guarantee how they’ll react, but they’ve always been nice to girls they’ve met in the past.”

Her head shook slowly.

“I don’t - Sarah I don’t understand.”

To add insult to injury, she had to say it out loud.

“I’m meeting your parents,” she said, looking into his eyes before her face crumpled and she stared down at her hands, knotted in her lap, “but you won’t get to meet mine.” Her voice was a desperate kind of wailed whisper.

Shit. He should have known. Of course that would come up with something like this. His dad once told him every major occasion was tinged with grief, knowing someone was always missing from the celebration. The fact that this would be hard for her hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Letting herself be pulled into Quinn, Sarah wept into his shoulder. His hands were heavy, warm and grounding on her back.

“I’m so sorry,” he said into her hair.

He’d never seen her so distressed. Even when she’d cried the first time he’d seen her tattoo, it hadn’t been like this. Then, it was no more than a minute of soft tears hitting his shoulder. This was so much more intense. He would probably be weeping too if he was in her position.

She pulled back suddenly, her hands braced on his shoulders, “don’t you have stuff with Brock tonight?”

“I canceled it when I hadn’t heard from you,” he admitted. “I was worried something had happened.”

“Oh,” she said, body relaxing.

The impact of what he said finally hit her. “Oh, Quinn, I'm sorry.”

He shook his head, “don't be. I can have dinner with Brock any time.”

“But, weren't you helping him pick out a ring or something?”

“Sarah,” he said, grasping her shoulders, “it's fine. We're doing it tomorrow after practice.”

“I'm sorry,” she said again, shaking her head.

“You don't need to apologize. When it comes to being moral support for Brock or making sure you're okay, I'd rather be with you.”

She gave him a watery smile, hoping it conveyed how sweet she thought that was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t even think about how hard this would be for you,” he said.

Shaking her head, Sarah reached up to wipe her cheeks. Her fingers came away smudged in black. “Oh, God. Now I’m a mess.”

He laughed a little, “do you want to go wash your face? I know you don’t have your stuff, but you can use mine.”

A shaky breath rattled through her lungs. “Could I actually take a shower?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve kind of been putting things off.”

She hadn’t washed her hair in four days, and couldn’t remember if she’d showered at all that morning.

Even though she’d talked several times with her therapist about coping strategies and patterns to look for, when she couldn’t identify what she was feeling, her first instinct was still to shut down. It was so totally different to talk about it than it was to actually do it. The time it took to realize what was wrong was getting shorter, at least. That was a good thing.

“Do you want some of my stuff to change into?” he asked.

“That would be really nice.”

Her stomach gave a sudden, loud grumble.

A surprised laugh flew out of Quinns mouth.

“I’m not sure I’ve eaten today,” she confessed.

Another part of what had her feeling so terrible. It was all interconnected, no matter how much she tried to pretend it wasn’t.

Quinn’s eyes widened. How did someone forget to eat?

“What do you want?” he asked, jumping onto the problem he could physically solve.

Sarah closed her eyes and tried to think.

“Pancakes,” she said, finally, thinking about how pleasant the fluffy breakfast food would feel in her mouth.

“I can make pancakes. I don’t have any syrup though, I don’t think.”

“That’s okay. Do you have peanut butter?”

He nodded.

“Thank you, Quinn,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth.

He patted her hip, “let's go then. I'll cook while you're in the shower.”

The fact that he was being so sweet and nice made tears well up in her eyes as she stood.

Leading her into the bathroom, Quinn asked if she needed anything else. When she said she didn’t, he told her he would put some clothes for her on the counter.

The prospect of washing the day off made her breathe a sigh of relief.

The big, walk-in shower was so bright, and opulent. Creamy white and blue tiles made a Moroccan style mosaic on the floor, and white subway tile was in the rest of the…it wouldn't be that much of a stretch to call it a room, that wasn't occupied with the thick glass sliding doors. There was even a tall, thin window right in the shower with a view of the northern skyline and the soft evening light winking off the harbor.

Pushing worries of wasting water or draining the heater out of her mind, Sarah allowed herself to enjoy the rare luxury of a hot shower with no roommates demanding the bathroom.

The water here got so much warmer than it did in her house. Quinn probably had his own water heater, not just access to the building boiler.

Standing under the water, she breathed the humid air and allowed the dam to break.

It was always strange, how giving something a name made it easier to feel and let run its course. Voicing what was wrong was always half the battle.

It had been a long time since she’d felt grief like this. Since it had been so triggered. Things with Quinn were so, so good. Far better than anything she could have ever dreamed up for herself, but being in a relationship still brought up new experiences, and new ways she hadn't yet missed her parents.

Thinking of Quinn made the big emotion in her chest ease. A soft swell of gratitude displacing some of the sadness. She’d never dated someone like him - someone so willing to try to understand. Someone who took her where she was and wasn’t put off by how much she missed her parents.

When Kaleo, her boyfriend in Hawaii, had confessed he didn’t understand why she brought up her dad so much, it had been a slap in the face, and made her feel so alone with someone who was supposed to be her partner. He had basically run away when her mom died, not willing to make the trip to the funeral, despite their dating for more than a year. It had been the final crack in the foundation of their relationship, and a big part of why her return to the islands lasted less than a week before she moved back home.

Quinn was so refreshingly different - kind and compassionate, and willing to listen. The universe had been keeping track of all the sad, frustrating things in her life and finally gave her the good things she was due all poured into one person.

Though she never heard him come in, a pair of blue sweats and a yellow Michigan shirt were waiting on the bathroom counter for her.

When she walked into the kitchen, Quinn felt his eyes go wide. Now was not the time for him to get all lustful over Sarah in his clothes, but it was impossible not to. She was braiding her wet hair, and it made her breasts, so obviously out of a bra, jostle under the Michigan logo stretched over them.

Forcing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he asked, “did you have a good shower?”

She’d been in there a long time - nearly 45 minutes. When he dropped the clothes off, She’d been crying, so he supposed not all of that time was actually spent bathing.

She tied off the end of the braid as she walked up to him. “I did, thank you,” she said before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

His arm wound around her waist, and pulled her against him. “Good. I hope these are up to standard. The recipe had good reviews.”

“I thought you said you could make pancakes?”

“I can,” he said, gesturing to the stove where the last of them was cooking in the pan, “I just didn’t have a recipe. At home, we always make them from a mix.”

“And you didn’t have any here?”

A sheepish smile spread over his face, “pancakes are one of my guilty pleasure foods, so I try not to have it in the house.”

She giggled, and a sigh raced through his veins.

A whiff of his own soap hit him, and he remembered what he’d been thinking when he first heard her walking down the stairs.

“Hey, will you message me the kind of shampoo you like and whatever else you need? I’ll order it so you can have the stuff you like here.”

Sarah took half a step back from him, eyes wide.

Maybe he’d overstepped. “Not that you can’t use mine. You’ve just showered here a few times and it seems kind of silly to not have the things you like.”

Also, he was tired of her smelling like his soap. He liked her smell so much, he’d do anything to keep it around.

“Oh,” she said, feeling watched over and considered. “That would be really nice.”

They sat down at the bar counter with pancakes, peanut butter, butter, jam, and a tiny bottle of maple syrup Quinn remembered he had from a gift basket when he'd moved in.

“Thank you for this,” she said, knocking her shoulder into his.

“You're welcome.”

“It’s just been such a shit week, and you’re so…” she paused, thinking and put a peanut butter and syrup coated piece of pancake in her mouth. “You’re so good.”

He blushed and tried to deflect the praise, “so what else are you overwhelmed with? School, and something about jackets?”

A flush flew into her cheeks. “Lexie called me about WAG jackets.”

“Oh,” he said, not really sure what the big deal was.

“I’m just,” she paused, setting down her fork. “Do you want me to wear one?”

“There’s no one else I’d want to wear it.”

“But, are you ready for that?”

“Ready for what?”

“For me to be so obviously… I mean, we’re not even official yet.”

“Right.”

“But you want me to wear a wives and girlfriends jacket?”

“We’re headed that way, aren’t we? I mean, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

Even though she felt the same, a huge wave of relief swept through her. “I’m not either but, if I wear a Jacket to a playoff game -”

He winced, not liking her to talk about it like it was a foregone conclusion.

“Or any game,” she amended, “people are going to wonder. Do you know what comes up when you google NHL WAG jackets?”

He shook his head.

She went to dig her phone out of her backpack, finally seeing the ten texts from Quinn, along with a missed call from her brother.

She really needed a pair of airpods or a watch or something she could wear while her phone had to stay in her bag in the lab.

Pulling up the search, she handed her phone to him before going back to her pancakes, now deliciously infused with syrup.

“Go to the reddit listing,” she suggested.

He scrolled down and clicked on the link, already turned gray from her previous visit. The whole page was speculation about which woman belonged to which player.

“If I go with a jacket, and someone posts pictures, that’s going to throw our relationship into this, and I just want to make sure we’re…ready for that.”

“Are you ready for that? Because it’s okay if you’re not.”

She bit her lip, “I’m not sure. It makes me kind of uncomfortable. It makes it feel like I belong to you or something,” she admitted.

Quinn grimaced.

“I can see how you got there,” he said, setting the phone face down. “You don’t have to get one and as far as I’m concerned, you never do, but I think you might want to talk to Lexie about it first.”

“Why?”

“The wives and girlfriends have a kind of support group. They hang out, and they help each other a lot. Lexie had a baby in October, and I know the other partners were really helping. Organizing meals and stuff like that. From what I know, the jackets are more about being part of that club than about -” he didn’t even want to say it, “belonging to someone on the team.”

She hummed. Sarah had sat with some of the wives and girlfriends at games a few times. They were always nice and very welcoming, but she didn’t feel this kind of camaraderie.

“Lexie asked me if you wanted one, and I didn’t know, so I gave her your number. I’m sorry, I should have warned you about it.”

“I just didn’t know what it meant,” she confessed. “Or if you were, like, trying to say something through Lexie somehow.”

He laughed, “no. I just didn’t want to make the decision for you. I’m sorry if it heaped more stress onto your plate.”

“It’s okay, it’s just new, you know?”

“Yeah. It took me a while to transition. If I didn’t have Tanev, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Who’s Tanev?”

“He was my defensive partner my first year. He was traded to Clagary, but he and his then fiance, Kendra, really helped me find my feet.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Emma about it.”

“Yeah? You guys talk?”

“Sometimes, we’re not besties or anything, but she checks in.”

Quinn smiled, relief filling his bones.

“Do you want me to take you home? Or would you rather stay here?” Usually, he wouldn’t have even asked but she looked so tired and comfortable, he wasn’t sure she’d want to make the trek.

Relief swept through her. She didn’t want to overstep - but the last thing she wanted was to go home. The idea of leaving to sleep in her cold, empty bed seemed like a terrible one.

“I’ll let Eunice know I won’t be home,” she said as an answer. The last time she’d slept over, Eunice had called three times in a row to break through Sarah’s do not disturb, worried she had been abducted in the middle of the night.

As they settled in bed, and she scooted herself close to him, he tried to pull in some calming breaths. It didn’t really work. He’d been half hard all night seeing her in his clothes, and now that she was scooting up against him, he slid way beyond half.

“Sorry,” he coughed.

Sarah turned over, “for what?”

Cheeks flaming, he wondered why he’d said anything at all. “I just…sorry,” he gestured down. “You in this shirt is a real turn on.”

“Really?”

She and Quinn were relatively similar sizes overall, but he was far more rectangular than she was. She felt like this shirt pulled over all of her soft bits in the most unflattering way possible, not to mention the yellow color made her look pale and washed out.

“Yeah,” he said with an earnest nod.

Sarah had been wondering all night how she could properly thank him. Now that the opportunity was here, she had to seize it. Capturing his mouth, she rolled on top of him.

His hands went to her hips as a groan fell out of his mouth.

Every time she went to pull away, he followed her, nipping her bottom lip, or stroking his tongue over the roof of her mouth; he didn’t want to let her go.

She broke away all together and sat up, so she was straddling his hips.

Quinn, who was already out of breath from the kissing, felt his chest hitch as she reached for the hem of her (his) shirt, and began pulling it up. She was even doing that arms crossed skin-the-cat kind of move. God, this was - she was a dream come true.

Watching her ease the blue M over her chest, knowing his name was on her back made him dizzy and he felt his erection press more urgently against her.

He wanted to save this vision of her stripping off his shirt into permanent, long-term memory.

“Shit, Sarah,” he moaned into her mouth when she let the fabric fall next to her and leaned down to kiss him again.

She smiled, happy to be getting the response she’d been going for. She didn’t want to have sex, but there were other ways she could thank him.

“Do you want my hands or my mouth?” she asked. Even though he hadn’t come close to going down on her, she was willing to let that rule slide for now.

“God, Mouth, please,” he practically begged.

She really was a dream. She’d never gone down on him before. He figured it wasn’t something she really enjoyed. Maybe she was just saving it for a special occasion. He wasn’t entirely certain what made this evening so special, but he’d take it.

Her lips ghosted over his chin and onto his chest as her hands pushed his pajama pants down. He lifted his hips, eager to please. She didn’t push them down all the way - just enough to let his hard cock spring free.

Taking a straight journey to where he wanted her, there was no preamble or teasing before she was wrapping her lips around him, and taking him deep.

Her mouth was hot and soft, her tongue skilled as she traced the vein on the underside, ending with a flick at the base of the sensitive head.

She pulled back and sucked on the tip like some kind of lollipop. A soft snick sounded through the room when she released the suction to start again.

His left thigh began to tremble. A few more seconds and he'd be done for.

“Oh, fuck,” he said as she took him deep again, making his eyes roll back.

This was a dream save for one thing: her hair was braided back. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fingers into the soft tresses. He wound them in the sheets instead.

Hollowing her cheeks, she pulled back to the tip. His guttural groan had a deep sense of satisfaction curling in her belly.

Stroking her tongue over the slit, licking up his salty precome, she smiled when he swore again.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned.

A small whine left his mouth when she pulled off him, but her hand kept moving, pulling his orgasm out all the same.

When he came, she shielded herself with her other hand, managing to catch most of his release before it splattered all over her. She was too tired for another shower.

Leaving him a panting mess, she went to wash up and wipe off the splatter that snuck past her hand.

Once she was back in bed with his shirt back on, Quinn gathered her against him, “that was amazing, thank you.”

She hummed and scooted a little closer.

“What do you want?”

“A good night's sleep,” she murmured.

“You don’t want me to return the favor?” he asked, humor in his voice. One of his hands was making a slow expedition down her stomach.

"No, you can do that," she hummed.

She felt his laugh against her skin, and his fingers snuck under the waistband of his sweats.

The pleasure that swam into her veins was comforting. She felt so contented and supported, spooned up against him as he stroked her sensitive pearl. She reached back to grab his hip as the sparks became more intense.

He was an attentive student, learning the patterns and pressure she liked as if he needed to ace this test to pass the class. Even going so far as to work his knee between hers to give himself a little more room without making her uncomfortable.

“Quinn,” she whispered.

God, the way she said his name made him feel like he could do anything - hike Mt. Everest, take on the whole Eastern conference, fly to the moon. He’d do anything to hear it again.

He began to kiss her neck, switching his fingers to circle clockwise. The sudden change in pattern made her clench down and a whine escaped her throat.

“Are you close?”

“Yes. Put your fingers inside me,” her breathy whisper made his fingers tingle with power and purpose.

He obeyed.

After a few strokes, she adjusted his wrist so the heel of his hand pressed gently against her clit.

Her hips moved with him, and she let out a little moan, “just like that, Quinn.”

She began to pulse around his fingers and she felt him smile against her skin as he worked her though the orgasm.

She slept soundly that night, curled up with Quinn, awed by the once improbable and yet very real prospect she might not have to face anything totally alone again.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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