#and they DID say the next step was the last >:(

[dreamlandcreations]

In your honour

Feyd-Rautha x Reader

Summary: Feyd tricks you into engagement...

Warnings: implied Atreides!Reader (bc I can't help but ship that ship most) = enemies to lovers (to be), Reader is a bit of a judgy little grump, harassment, misogyny, fight to the death, Feyd is a smitten sneaky little menace, made up Harkonnen customs, hints of angst here and there

🖤 special thank you to @stopeatread and @kasagia for the comments that kept me going 🖤

~ 1,8K words

• Feyd-Rautha masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

The celebration for eliminating the Fremen threat was planned to last for a week. You had more than enough of it on the first day though, of the party, of the people, of the black and white planet altogether. You wanted to leave but that would be an insult to the Harkonnens, the hosts of the event, and the fragile peace between your families couldn't take a blow like that.

The Baron was gracious enough to give your family the credit that was due for this achievement, and as one of the honoured guests, you had to be present for all of these nights of celebration, form start to end.

The smalltalk bored you to death, the men were looking at you like meat, and the way the Baron treated the servants made you sick. No, scratch that, the Baron made you sick.

The only remotely good thing was surprising to say the least. The na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who shared your feelings towards the gathered nobles and who proved to be not just an excellent company for your brooding through most of the days you've had to spend here so far but his presence also scared away the men who wanted to try to make a decent or indecent proposition to you.

When you mentioned the offers you received Feyd became irritated but his slightly teasing and a bit accusatory questioning of your too high standards covered up the real reason behind his increasing anger. He didn't want anyone else to even have a chance to have you. It was only the third day of knowing you but he knew he will not be able to let you go. His initial amusement and fascination quickly became an unstoppable obsession and you had no idea.

Not even when the conversation went as far as him trying to convince you that you should take a chance with someone sooner or later and you might have a say in the matter unlike most noble ladies. Your answer stayed with him for the next few days.

"I have no illusions, I know there's no such thing as a perfect match but I want someone who will not try to change me, who I can trust just as much as they can trust me. Someone who would care for me even if love is not an option, someone who could be gentle with me."

That did not help with his anger. He knew it was not your intention but you basically told him that he had no chance. Trust? Care? Kindness? That was everything you can't find in his family. Feyd-Rautha was very well aware he was not right for you but no matter what the tiny little voice of what's left of his conscience told him, he couldn't let you go.

The opportunity came on the second to last day of the celebrations. He had other obligations, so you were left alone to mingle. Feyd kept an eye on you but he didn't notice the Harkonnen general approach you until you made a scene.

The general fell on his knees from the force of your hit that also broke his nose. He quickly recovered though, standing up in a quick motion, stepping into your personal space once again as he threatened you.

"You will pay for that," he said as he tried to grab you again but you stepped back, kicking him in the knee, making him stumble again.

"Try to put your hands on me again and I will end you," you practically growled your response but it only elicited a mocking laugh from the entitled man.

"If you want a fight, little witch, name your champion," he taunted as he straightened once again.

"I can fight my own battles." You declared with your head held high, not letting this excuse of a man making you feel small under his towering height.

The fool tutted at you like you were an ignorant child. "Not here, you can't."

Before you could respond a now familiar, oddly rough and soft voice declared, "I will fight for her."

The gasps across the room were followed by eerie silence. The natives of this planet knew what that meant, the na-Baron was not from your family or in your servitude, therefore, according to thier law his offer changed the challenge and now the price was much higher than the question of your honour.

He descended down the stairs from where he was talking with his uncle and some other nobles not a minute ago. It was a slow, predatory display of movement that made you shiver.

Feyd stopped in front of you but didn't take his eyes off the general until the man confirmed the acceptance of the challenge with a nod. The foul man had the audacity to grin at you with a dark intention of what he will do if he wins.

You look away from that as the na-Baron finally turns to you. His expression is unreadable as he studies you in silence.

"Why?" you finally ask.

His lips pull to a smile but he stops it as he leans in to be level with your downcast eyes. "Why not?"

You clench your fists, insisting,"I am perfectly capable of fighting."

"As he said, that's not how things work here." He bent down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver for an entirely different reason as he whispered, "Maybe you can give me a private demonstration later?"

You huffed, pushing at him by a hand on his chest. He let you but he caught your hand and kept it there, right above his heart as he looked down at you with an unsettling smile glinting in his eyes.

"Show me your blade," he orders, finally letting go of your hand but holding your gaze captive with his.

You take in a shuddering breath as you reply, "I don't know what you're talking about. We were searched for weapons..."

He cuts you off with an amused and accusing look, his brows, or rather where they would be raise in a mocking but expectant move as his drags his gaze slowly over your face and neck, right to the place where your breasts are straining against your dress' corset with each heavy breath.

Your lips part in surprise and that makes him look up, mesmerised for a second before he delivers a more impatient form of that taunting look. Clenching your jaw, you look away for a second, a half shake of your head at this situation is all you can afford. Then you reach into the front of your dress, pulling out the hidden blade and hand it to him.

Fey studies the intricate design of the sheath of the weapon before pulling the blade out, testing the edge against his fingertips. His full lips turn up in a satisfied smile and you are about to comment on it when he presses the sheath to your lips, stunning you once again.

He keeps the light smile as he moves your right hand again to grab the item, his hold sliding from your hand to your wrist as he guides your moves, settling the piece above your heart, making you cross your arm across your chest.

Your heart is beating at an insane beat as you eye him with suspicion, very deep down realising what is about to happen.

"Why are you doing this?" you whisper, scared to even make the question, let alone hear the answer.

He grins at you, saying, "Don't worry, I will collect my reward after I dealt with him."

With that he stepped back, putting your blade to his lips and mimicking the gesture he made you perform, then he walked away from you to go back to the podium where his opponent was already waiting for him.

They stood at a few feet from each other, in fighting stance, ready to attack the moment the Baron would let them.

The fight would have been quick but Feyd had other plans.

It was plain to see that the na-Baron was a far better fighter. And given the stories, you know the general must have seen the younger man fight in the arena before so you concluded that he indeed was an utter fool.

You stood there where he left you, surrounded by the morbidly fascinated audience that was witnessing his display. Because that's what it was a show put on for everyone to see.

Yes, he wanted to make the bastard suffer but it was more than that. This will be an example of what happens when someone tries to take away what is his, and all the while it is a chance to show his true power over a real opponent. So Feyd attacked, cut and then retreated to observe the man then he repeated the process. Again and again, until the general couldn't stand. Then Feyd-Rautha cut his throat with a swift move as the defeated man was kneeling before him.

The Baron laughed and spoke to the room, announcing that his nephew just won a wife and everyone was staring at you with disbelief while Feyd-Rautha was basking in his victory. You didn't hear or see any of it though, your focus solely on him, already knowing your fate without anyone telling you.

The next thing you knew the na-Baron was marching towards you and he grabbed you by your nape, pulling you into a forceful kiss. His lips pressing on yours, teeth biting into your lower lip, probably drawing blood as he demanded your surrounder. You gasped at the pain, granting him his wish of you opening up to him and he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, claiming you publicly while your knees wobbled and you were holding onto him for dear life.

When he finally leaned back, he was smiling as he cupped your cheek with his free hand. "Aren't you going to congratulate me, my lovely bride?"

"Why? You already claimed your reward." Your answer was filled with anger but he didn't mind, he will make you forgive him, he was sure of it. But he couldn't help himself with a little more teasing because he liked to see that fire in your eyes.

"Not yet, my darling. Although if you can't wait for the wedding night, I wouldn't be against it."

You scoff and look away, your gaze finding your father and his mentat discretely arguing then looking back at you. They answer your silent question with a sorrowful expression and your father lightly shakes his head, meaning there is no way to avoid this.

Witnessing the exchange, Feyd clenches his jaw, and he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"No!" he quietly growls through his teeth. "You are mine."

With that, he closes the distance between you again, this time kissing you longer and in a much more gentle manner despite his anger at your reaction. It's a promise that he hopes you understand. For you, he will try.

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[simplydnp]

be honest with me. what are the chances of a hard launch in june

anon this question goes back years. and the thing is. we have been right once before.

you ask me this this time last year? fuck no. i might even quip that dapg would come back before dnp would hard launch. well. look at us now.

and even then, you look back on the content they started with in the revival--it honestly kind of felt exactly like where we left off, only a lot more explicitly queer (we stan). and then... trying to see without my glasses 2. and bang, spooky week happened. and that shifted the balance. we suddenly got slo-mo replays of handholds. day, after day, after day, finishing with the absolute masterpiece of halloween baking cinnamon rolls. in all honesty it was so much more than i'd've ever expected from them. truly another post-baking universe.

and it never really slowed down. suddenly we had cat prom photos, catboy butlers, catboy dan w/ phil photography credit, theyre 'wrestling' --running us full throttle into gamingmas, the first since 2017. and every day we had a new thing to freak out over: standing close. golf jokes. and then... pinof reacts. i don't know what compelled them to do it but i do have speculations. genuinely, i think they wanted to defang a lot of their history. we treated pinof 1, especially, with this... reverance. and it wasn't talked about too publicly--and dnp didnt do it either. so if they really wanted to move on, to bring down the walls, open the floodgates, define this new era: they had to throw the first stone. and they did. quite heartily too. suddenly this almost taboo part of their history--almost too intimate to be perceived--was on the table. and we were talking about it. joking about it. giving clear signals of 'we see it, it's okay.' and suddenly we existed in a post-pinof reacts world. of anything, i would've never predicted they would've done that. absolutely wild. follow that with it takes two being so chill and fond. incohearant being so blatant and heartfelt. trombone champ being unhinged and chaotic. the genuine and sweet complimenting of each other in the red carpet video. devan wedding... happilyphoreverafter... we crashed forward in time. never knowing what would be next. where is the line? how far will they go.

they teased us with japhan honeymoon and we knew 2024 would be wild. but we didn't know how much. from wdapteo 2023, to specific reminiscing about japan w/ devan, WAD happening, and phil playing a huge role in it all--from the orange carpet hosting, to 'ive been in *sex noises* with phil from the start!', to 'remote crisis manager phil lester', to dan saying he can stay during the thank you.

one of the biggest videos so far this year was the tiktok likes one. i will be forever haunted by the dog eating cheeseburger and willy wonka tiktoks--theres some things i was never meant to know. and yet. they tell us. explicitly.

every single video on amazingphil since the return of dapg has mentioned or featured dan. there's been a palpable shift in the way they interact. have you seen the way phil has been glowing in videos lately? this guy is on cloud nine all the time. it's really not hard to see why.

the energy of keep or yeet w/ dan... the absolute Lack of pretense of it all. phan twitter... watch your step baby girl...

dan and phil fucking crafts. talk about an unexpected return. legacy defining, one might even say. we're still in this tailspin of what everything means and they drop this insanely iconic video on us. from the storytelling to the production to the aesthetic--and its all capped off by explicit handholding. yes, it was part of the sacrifice. but hand in hand, the heart dan ripped from phils chest in one, and the knife that did it in the other... oh boy. we're really in it now. and then they put it on fucking merch. genius. truly no one does it like them.

and the foot has been on the accelerator since. dan and phil connections, shuffleboard & mocktails, getting deep slumber party, acknowledgement & approval of fics (yes previously given but never like this)--hell, even the sims today was wild for 'is their love language horrible banter 👀'.

you didn't ask for an essay but i gave you one. all of this to say, they've been moving the line. quite intentionally so. they intentionally revived their joint branding. they are 'dan and phil' again, and seem happier than ever about it, and i think that means something. they're saying things they never would have before--out of the closet or not.

as for june... 5 years since coming out is a big deal. so is this year being 15 years of dnp. hell, so is this year for being the first out pride month where they're explicitly a duo and regularly making content together. they're sentimental, there will be something.

my craziest idea is reacting to their coming out videos ✌️😔 --but i don't think it'll actually happen. as for more realistic, i could see pride merch. and however that goes will be significant, in my opinion. i'm excited and curious.

i don't know if they'll hard launch. it's hard to put all of the implications, complications, and speculations back into the box once it's opened. dan's talked about it before--wanting to be able to fuck up and not be publically executed, instead, being able to learn and grow and work it out. i think that's a very understandable stance to have. very grounded. we'd have to ask him if tour/dapg has changed that now. i do think he's had some sort of life epiphany--whether it's about that specifically, only he can say. but i think it's there.

even if i portray a lot of level-headedness, i wear my clown nose with pride. sometimes the only option is to go with whatever is funniest at the time. they're both jokesters, so they could commit to a bit like that. but it's also like, it can be too serious for them to want to joke about. i don't know. i think we're in this almost beautiful state right now--the we know you know of it all. there's no expectations, no demands to be met, no obligations of types of content. they're happy. we're happy. it depends on if they feel ready. if they want to. we'll be here, always.

[teezersfics]

Lipstick~ Kim Hongjoong ♡

Just trying to match my hair with your favourite lipstick shade ~ Kim Hongjoong

♡ EROTICA ATEEZ ♡

Warnings : sub!reader, dom!hongjoong, unprotected penetration, angry sex, teasing, dirty talk (a lil bit), denied climax, punishment, thigh riding, Hongjoong ordering around, possessive HJ, MDNI, 18+

WC : 3.7K

Haven't done the fact check, so if there are any mistakes, please understand ⊂(･ω･)

There is a little story at start, the 18+ part starts after a while.

(A/n : OK, so it's quiet interesting cuz a week before Coachella I bought a lipstick in cherry red type shade, and when I saw Hongjoong at Coachella with same shade of Hair, it did things to me and that's how I wrote this. Enjoyyyyy~)

It was weekend, that means it was time to celebrate.

This weekend, a success party was organised for all the 8 lovely and hardworking boys by the company for their successful Coachella show and tour this summer. Ofcourse, a deserved one.

But, you were upset about one thing. You boyfriend. Hingjoong. Its been two weeks since they came back from US. But, it was just 4 days ago that he met you. Though, it's good that he is prioritising his time with his family, but you were upset upon the fact that he couldn't even meet you for sometime in these many days. He even met his friends from another company before meeting you. And that kinda made you sad for some reason.

Since you boy met, you've been giving cold shoulder to him, no matter how much he tried or apologised. You were not completely mad about it, its just you were playing with him for sometime, until the bomb inside him ticks. He might be a cutie patootie, until you test his limits, that's exactly what you were waiting for. You were just not going to let it loose until he made you.

As evening comes closer, you realise its time to get ready for the party tonight. The fact that Hongjoong was supposed to be at your apartment right now, getting ready along with you, but he was gone from morning without telling you a word. Sometimes you just can't figure out what's going inside his brain. But, you can't wait anymore, you have to start getting ready.

The theme was black and gold. Basic but classy combination. And, office parties are always classy. It was pure celebration night along with some business stuff. There was going to be an announcement at the party, but its fun part because only director knows about it, not even the boys.

As you think about all the exciting stuff that was going to happen in tonight's party, you get ready in your black backless bodycon dress, which was, ofcourse, a bit revealing. Revealing enough to trigger something in someone. Adding black heels and a cute little Balmain purse, finishing your look with gold rings, bracelet and a short gold chain.

Checking yourself finally in mirror for last time, you almost forgot to apply the lipstick. Your favourite thing in makeup. These days you are hooked onto a particular lipstick shade. A dark cherry red or blood red or dark red, however you call it. You just love how that shade looks on your lips. Applying the lipstick and checking yourself in the mirror for the very last time, you hear the sound of horn. Just in time.

You leave your apartment complex and while heading towards the street, there he is leaning against the car. No matter how much upset you are about him, in the end of the day, 'damn, he is really my man. Mine.' this is your last thought.

All black outfit, black shiny blazer, heeled boots, loose black shirt, golden chain and analogue watch. But wait, what you observed next was was you were not expecting. Your steps become slower. A brand new hair look. Undercut, cherry red dyed hair with wet look. It's as if you are day dreaming. He definately knows about your new obsession.

You walk up to him, cheeks already stained with heat, you didn't know what to say.

"Looking preety, princess" He compliments you. But, you remind yourself 'act upset.'

"You too." You say it coldly.

"Such a dry compliment? You don't know how much efforts I have put in today's look."

You clearly know what he is talking about, it's the hair, but you are currently playing hard.

"I mean, the look is preety handsome."

"The look?"

"Yeah. What else?"

"Very well."

To be honest, the more you are in front of him, the desperate your hands are growing to just caress his hair until you ruin the hairstyle. And, you just cannot control. An odd strand of his hair, resting on his eyebrow, looks out of place, which you try to fix. But, as your hand is approaching his forehead, he fixes it himself. Opening the door, he motions for you to get in. Irritated, you squeeze your eyes at him in annoyance and he responds you with a naughty smirk. "So, two-player game has finally started." Is what you think.

The ride till destination is just exchange of some words. You were continously resisting the urge to look at him. Just can't get enough of him in that hair colour. And his preety face. Oh god. But, one thing he doesn't knows, is your completely backless dress. He is yet to see it, and you know exactly when to use it as a trigger.

Reaching at the destination, you both are greeted with welcoming smiles from the boys. The 7 balls of sunshine welcoming you and your other grumpy ball of sunshine.

Their smiles are enough to make someone's day better. And, it's just the start of today's evening.

After the short greetings, you are seated at the couch, enjoying the drinks and snacks. Some of the members girlfriends are here too, with whom you are familiar with. There are also other artist from the company, for celebrating ATEEZ success. Such a wholesome company. And, suddenly there are taps on mic, stealing everyone's attention.

"Mic check, okayyy"

It's the director.

"Well, its about the special announcement. Total, of three announcements. Initially, I would like to tell everyone, that our boys, ATEEZ, after Hongjoong joining Balmain as brand ambassador, other boys will also be joining big brands from Korea and also international brands,as bran ambassadors, very soon."

Everyone cheer and congratulate the boys. Sometimes it just makes you tear up, how much these boys are growing.

( fr tho, I cry sometimes. )

"Secondly, ATEEZ will be having a Comeback in June."

Again there are cheers. Not gonna lie, Comeback period is so good, because as Hongjoong's girlfriend, you already know most of things from newest Comeback, and it's just so fun to see Atinys reactions to all the stuff getting released.

"Third, announcement. Out team manager is going to get married this month." This information does get the loudest cheers. The night is full of laughs and smiles. But, it's time for a game now.

Everyone is called up on the dance floor. The upbeat songs fills the environment. It feels like the clubs with all the crazy lightings and upbeat songs. But, as night gets older, upbeat songs turn to skies romantic songs. Ofcourse, for some of the couple present here. It starts with Manager and his soon to be wife joining the dance floor with cute couple dance. Later on, other members, San, Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho also joins the stage with their girlfriends. You were stealing glances with Hongjoong, but he didn't ask you for the dance. It kinda made you upset. But, your bestie did notice it.

"Hey, it's not good to see a preety lady, sitting upset on the couch, while romantic songs are playing here. Come on, dance with me, will you?" It's Wooyoung, holding his hand out for you. Always been a life saver. You could always tryst him in situations like this.

"Gladly" you say with a smile and join him.

All this conversation just received piercing stares from Hongjoong.

On the dance floor, you can't thank Wooyoung enough for offering you for a dance.

"Gosh Wooyoung, you always get the situation right."

"Hmm, I've been observing it since you two came. Did you two fought or something?" He asks.

"Kind of. But just play along with me."

"Sure, your majesty."

As, you start the slow dance, you slowly bring all your hairs to the front from one side, revealing the backless dress.

"Holy, a backless dress. I see what you are doing." Wooyoung says to which you give a low chuckle.

"But, I don't think so I am allowed to touch your back. I'll be burned to ashes by someone."

"It's okay, you can hold my waist instead." You say.

"Oh Wooyoung, you are so loyal and you don't even have a girlfriend yet. How's that possible?"

"Didn't.....find anyone yet. My type is bit weird."

"Your future girlfriend will be so lucky."

"But looks like I won't be lucky anymore. Hongjoong's eyes are literally on fire. He hasn't stopped looking here for a second."

You chuckle to how stresses he sounds.

"You laughing?? Currently I am being used as a pawn and god knows what is going to happen to me, the next time Hongjoong calls me in his room."

"Haha, okay. This much is fine for today. Let's go."

"I hope this gets your work done." He gives you a thumbs up before leaving the stage.

You join Hongjoong again on the couch.

"Are you done dancing?" He is not looking at you. The mad energy radiates from him which gives you goosebumps but you try not to stutter.

"Yeah."

"Looks like you enjoyed it too much."

"Hmm, Wooyoung is actually so good at dancing."

He is still not looking at you.

"I still feel like this night shouldn't end. Its just so good to see eve-"

"We were leaving." He cuts you off.

"What?"

"Get up."

He gets up and heads to give last greetings to boys.

"Why are leaving early? There still alot of time." Seonghwa asks.

"Didn't have some proper rest for some days. Also, I need to drop her first. Right, Princess?"

He says to which you just nod.

Ride back was silent, not a single word exchanged. But as you reached, he grabbed your wrist. Dragging you all way up to your apartment complex, he yanked you into your bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"What is it Hongj-"

"Remove everything you have on your body, except that dress."

You are shocked by the sudden command, you just stand there, unmoving.

"Wasn't I enough loud for you to hear that? Get to work." There is something behind those eyes. Something that tells you not to mess up right now.

As you are removing all your accessories and heels, he is also loosening his own tie, folding the sleeves of his shirt to half, unbuttoning half of the buttons, messing his hairs a bit. Shit! The raw look that you enjoy to savour. Everytime he come backs from work or a meeting or award show, and loosening himself up after coming home, you would enjoy him in this look for hours. Not to mention the several times you have secretly pleasured yourself unknowingly imagining him in this look.

After he is done with it, he sits on the corner of the bed, right in front of mirror. He motions you to come closer and stand in front of him. His hands starts from your shoulder, caressing your body from your curves throughout your hips.

"Hmm, what a right choice for a party dress, showing all that cleavage, that back, that curve of the hips. It's not like, I want to limit your freedom, but I definately won't like what's mine to be eye candy for others." His voice goes low.

"Wear what you like baby, but don't use that to test my patience. Understand."

"This dress does not have a kind of good impression on me. Beacuse, it was not me who danced with you." His hands then heads towards your dress zipper but instead of opening the zipper, he straight out rips the dress from your back.

"And I make sure, you never wear this dress again."

The dress is soon pulled down from your body leaving you in your lingerie. No matter how many times you've been naked in front of him, no matter how many times you fucked, the way he looks at your body always brings goosebumps.

He manspreads and motions you to sit on his one lap. And you do as he asked. But, he has other plans today.

"Nah! Not like this baby. Face your back to me."

When you face your back to him, you could see both your figures in the mirror. You sitting on his lap, legs apart, him scanning the scene in front of him. But, what he says next, fills your eyes with horror.

"Since you were being a little bad today, your punishment is to only ride my thigh for today. And if you cum without my orders, forget getting my dick."

The worst thing you could hear today. After trying so hard to just get fucked, but all you get is a punishment, testing how much you can resist your high.

"Come on, baby. Move." His grit his teeth ordering you to begin the show.

Hesitantly, you start moving your hips. Slowly increasing your pace to gain more and more friction. You hands resting on his other thigh and bed, head thrown back, eyes rolled to your brain. Hongjoong resting both of his hands on bed, his head thrown back too. He sure is making you punished, but he himself is not sure how long he can hold back.

You just try to make your movements faster and faster, digging yourself more into his thigh, grinding as if your life depends on it. But, you are frustrated. Frustrated for not getting what you wanted, you click your tounge and whine in frustration while still maintaining the pace.

But your whines are loud enough to catch his attention. He lifts his head up, a victory smirk on his face, droopy eyes. "Did I just hear it right? Little cries of frustration." His mouth is right on your ear. "Frustrated because you didn't get what you wanted? How petty." He chuckles, the vibration of the sound making your ear feel numb.

He places his one hand on your neck, pushing your neck to the back, and other hand on your waist, helping you increase your pace, almost digging his nails in your waist. When you look in the mirror, he already has his eyes, trained on your face. And, you see the lust in his eyes, pure lust.

He for sure is your lovely boyfriend, but when he is filled with lust, it's like completely different person, as if he'd switch roles with some incubus. Not to mention, him having that perfect blood coloured hairs now, make your organs do backflips in your body.

Speaking of that, you try to raise your hands to try touch his hairs, but he is more in his sensed than you do right now. He quickly stops you by holding your hands, and then holding them at your back. You hear a scoff.

"If I let happen what you want the most, then what's the point of my punishment, yeah?"

You click your tounge again, clearly not hiding your frustration anymore. His one hand goes again to your waist, helping you work more faster. But, you can't hold it back longer. Your patience have ended.

“Ho- Hongjong pleasee-” you whisper.

“Hmm, did I hear something?”

“I am…..am so close. Please….”

“Aww, but you know the rules, right”

He is just testing every bit of your patience.

“Please, please, I beg…beg you.”

A single tear roll down your closed eye, out of desperation and your restrained release. But, your breathes grow heavy and you are so…so close to disobey him again. And he notices, stopping your movements.

“On your back, now.”

Without wasting a second, you are laying on bed. He gets in between legs separating them for him to stand on his knees, undressing himself. Finally pulling down his boxer to take out his hard dick. He pumps it himself for some seconds. He comes down to kiss you, or rather you'd say eat your lips out. The way he is kissing you with his tongue exploring every corner in your mouth, making you out of breathe.

Your hand pinned above your head, with one hand still stopping you from achieving your goa of touching his hairsl. Separating his lips from yours, he removes the last remaining pieces of clothes from your body.

“Remember baby, the rules are still same. No cumming without my permission.”

And with that he enters you, bottoming out, making you gasp out loud.

“Gosh, you are so wet, I don't even need to try.”

Then he starts moving, short shallow thrusts at start, pulling out just halfway through and then going all in again. Making your body rock every so slowly. But, then when he is done with the intro, he increases his speed suddenly, pulling almost out but then suddenly snapping in fast making you scream.

“Ahhh, fuck, fuck…ah agh”

“Oh, just this got you cursing like this, the main show is yet to begin.”

With this, starts thrusting fast, so fast that could rip your pussy. The sound of skin slapping, creaking of bed, both your pants and moans, fills the room.

He finally let your hands free to gain more stability, and first thing you do is find his hair. Intervening your hand with his hair, you pull them making Hongjoong groan. He is not that vocal in bed, but when he is, his moans are most best thing your ears have ever heard. And, you always try to find a way to make him moan.

He backs up for a while, halting his movements for seconds, and throwing your legs over his shoulders while still being inside you, wiping his sweat before starting again. This time he is not just thrusting but pushing himself inside of you, basically pushing you into the mattress. Your brain is so fucked out right now, you have no capacity to understand anything. You are gripping the sheets beneath you for your dear life. His balls deep inside of you, pushing in and out, furiously. There's a drool flowing from the corner of your mouth, eyes rolled back.

“Aww, look at that fucked out face. Do I do you that good baby, hmm?"

You hear everything but you are so messed to answer anything to him. All that comes out of your mouth are moans and screams of his name.

He comes down to kiss you again, kissing all that drool away. He bites your lower lip while kissing you, drawing out blood, making you wince, but without a thought he sucks your blood too. That particular action made the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Ahh!! Fuck. Shit baby, your blood tastes sweet- sweet too, ah.” He says within heavy pants. His speed of thrust has become slower but, instead he thrusts in with more force, literally making the bed rock back and forth. Pushing himself in you and at the same time pulling you towards him, with force. It just hits different when he is jealous and wrecks the shit out of you, the best type of sex because he'd give his all to make sure the name coming out of your mouth is only his.

He kissed your legs, from ankle to your knee while still thrusting, leaving bite marks on your calves. And with other hand, he adds two fingers to your already stuffed hole, thrusting with his fingers simultaneously with his dick. That made you scream out loud. Somehow you managed to open your eyes a bit, but as soon as he saw you a mischievous grin appeared on his face, looking directly in your eyes. You knew, there was something going in his head.

He removes his fingers from your hole and starts rubbing on your clit with his palm. No, he knows how to test you. You throw your head back into the mattress because of the sudden added pleasure. He starts rubbing forcefully on your clit, he could almost feel his dick slamming in and out through your skin. That was just bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

“Ho- Hong, plesee….”

“Umm, please what babe?”

“Hong-....you- you know….please”

“Oh, does my baby wants to cum???” He coos, mockingly.

“Yess….” You nod desperately.

“But, baby. You know the rules right?? What did I say??”

You know he wouldn't let you win, but you can't hold it back. But, coming without him saying so, would just bring you another trouble. You bang your fists on the mattress out of frustration.

“Oh oh, look who is angry.” He coos again. But he instantly comes down, his mouth hovering above your ear, “If you just don't want to go through this, then don't go around making ME angry.” He grits. “Understood. Now wait.”

He starts thrusting again, fast, his both hands on your neck. Your denied climax, him thrusting faster and his hands gripping your neck, all this was too much for you to handle, the overwhelming feeling was making your back arch. You again pull onto his hairs, getting him to moan loudly. Him moaning your name and curses loudly into your ear was your last straw.

“Ahhh,fuck y/n. You feel so fucking good. Ahh.”

“Hong- Hong…please. I can't hold…..”

After some hard thrusts he finally says.

“Baby, cum for me. Together. Come on.”

And with that, you release at the same time as him. Your body going limp suddenly. While he still stays inside you pushing both of your cum further inside you.

He removes himself and lays on you, hugging you from above, peppering your breasts with butterfly kisses.

“Baby, I know I was busy all these days and did not meet you. But don't ever do what you did today. If you want attention, just say it to me. Just know, at the end of the day, I will always come to you. I just can't see you in anyone else's hands.”

You nod with a hum. Your hands find its way to his hairs.

“You did this on purpose, didn't you?” You ask.

He scoffs with a guilty ‘yes’

“I saw, lately you've been liking this colour alot. So, I just tried matching my hair with your lipstick shade.”

“You don't know what that did to me.” He chuckles after hearing you.

He suddenly lifts you up in bridal style, heading towards the bathroom.

“Let's bath together. I will wash your hair today, ok.”

No, cuz, i am SOOO crazy over this Hongjoong, like bsnsjkakakakakananwjjsosoaka

[bunny-yan]

I feel like “Theodore” would suit the yan!Duke! Just my humble suggestion, I feel like the name holds a certain melancholy to it which is so fitting for his character, sophisticated yet distant. ☺️

TW: power imbalance, suggests noncon, minors DNI

—

“Theo,” you whispered. 

He felt your hand gently rub his shoulder to wake him, though his eyes were already open. He was pulling you into his arms, eliciting a laugh as you told him to stop. 

He asked you to wake him from the short nap you requested he take since he’d been bent over his desk for the last couple of days, unmoving and looking increasingly exhausted with each passing glance you took as you so happened to pass by his office. 

He was stubborn, but he could never say no if he peered too close into your eyes, into that warm concern that threatened to engulf him, swallow him whole. And he would let it. There would be no struggle for escape, and he’d silently beg that you had no intention of letting him go. 

It was much warmer than he’d thought it be, than he ever imagined when you held him. You shared it with him for years and yet he still experienced it as if it was the first time when your arms would wrap around him, offering peace. 

Comfort. 

It was a better high that possessed greater depths than he could ever hope to achieve. 

“Theo,” you whispered as if you were sharing the greatest secret. 

He loved his name on your lips. 

“I hate to wake you, but it’s time to get up.”

Closing his eyes, he pulled you closer, a strange aching in his chest. 

An uneasy feeling bubbled and grew the more he questioned it. He didn’t want to let you go. 

He wanted his lungs to fill with this warmth, this ecstasy of happiness that would wear off and leave him craving more. 

No. 

He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want-

“Theo?”

“Duke Theodore.” that familiar voice said. 

Cold and harsh, it raked across his skin as his eyes snapped open. They drifted from the ceiling to where you were standing, body rigid and tight at the end of the bed to the two of you shared. 

Or, used to. 

You hadn’t stepped foot in this room since his King brother visited. 

It was as if your positions switched. 

The days you used to try and convince him to quit his work early, the two of you would cocoon yourselves in these sheets, knowing nothing was more significant than those moments. The two of you would talk or sit in silence, simply enjoying the comfort of each other’s company. 

Most nights his lips would find yours, drinking in your laughter and pulling you closer as your smile shifted to something longing, something unfamiliar these days. 

On the nights sleep found you before he did, he’d retreat to his own quarters, not wanting to disturb your rest, the only exception being if he wasn’t able to get a glimpse of you all day. 

Theodore would seek you out as if he was in a drug-induced haze, a heavy feeling in his chest that could only be relieved by your presence, on the really bad nights, by your touch. 

He felt awful when he climbed into bed next to you, wondering if you’d scorn him for pulling you away from wherever you went when you slept. But you alleviated all of his fears when you murmured his pet name, sleep-filled eyes smiling at him. Beckoning him closer, you’d wrap him in your arms and whisper against his skin that you missed him. 

It sent shivers down his spine. 

The gaping cavity in his chest ceased to ache. 

He wasn’t sure if he was still grateful for the love you shared. If he hated you now that you had taken it away, ripped it from him like everything else he’d come to learn was never his. 

He couldn’t deny the devastating hope he felt every time he came to the doors of the bedroom you shared, a hope in and of itself that you’d answer his silent expectation that you’d be on the other side. He’d open the door and greet him with that familiar smile and outstretched arms that he could collapse into. 

But it was empty.

You slept in your personal bedroom. 

Without your express permission, it wasn’t a place he was welcome and he didn’t dare imagine you waiting for him in his own chambers. 

He hated when memories of the younger version of you would surface in his mind. 

Nervous but bright-eyed, somehow, you had bypassed the maids who would’ve explained that you weren’t allowed into his private chambers without a prior appointment. 

Your marriage was arranged and he could only imagine how you felt about being forced into an engagement with a complete stranger. Theodore was content to leave you to your own devices, no stranger to having distance in his relationships, but you sought him out, going so far as to climb into his bed, looking embarrassed as you undressed. 

It was such a pleasant surprise that he made sure to inform the maids not to stop you if you came directly to his chambers and continued in his neglect to inform you of that specific clause in your marriage contract. 

You didn’t know then and you still had no idea of the innocent secret he kept. 

He could enter your room and you would have no idea that he had no right to be there, but he couldn’t bear to see the distaste in your expression as your gaze landed on him. So he only visited at night when he was sure you were asleep. 

Standing on the side of your bed, he longed for the closeness you once shared. He stood so close he could’ve reached out to brush your hand across your cheek, hoping to alleviate whatever caused you to wear such a tortured expression. He felt such urgency to pull you from whatever it was, but his fears won these days. Not wanting to risk your expression worsening when your eyes opened. 

He stood close, not at an uncomfortable distance like you were at now, close enough that he had to physically resist the urge to take your hand in his and squeeze until you won whatever unconscious battle you were fighting. 

Theodore sat up, watching as your folded hands, pressed tighter into your body. He felt like a child, caught with their hands in a cookie jar as you narrowed your eyes on him. Sleeping in this room the two of you were meant to share did little to hide his desires. 

Clearing your throat, you crossed your arms as a comforting gesture, telling yourself that you were fine. Despite having avoided this bedroom like the plague since the night it happened. 

“The maids told me that they had difficulties waking you.”

He thought back to the dream he was pulled away from, mourning the fuzzy edges as it began to fade from his mind. 

It was no wonder. 

“I’ve woken you up, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Turning, you continued, “I’d appreciate it if you could give this responsibility to the butler in the future.”

A line meant to further separate you. 

Before he could stop himself, he asked, “When can I expect your presence in this bedroom?”

He watched as your jaw clenched before you turned to face him once you mastered your emotions. 

“If it is up to me, you’ll never have the pleasure of my company again.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze wavering. 

You frowned. He’d never looked at you like that before. 

“It’s a part of your matrimonial-”

“Duty. You love to remind me.” 

Any guilt you felt disappeared as you considered what he was asking of you. 

You hated this room. 

It took what felt like hours just to work up the courage to walk in. 

You were sleeping, unable to stay awake as you waited for your husband to finish talking with the King. He seemed tense and you wanted to ask him about what was on his mind. 

You’d woken up cold, to the feeling of hands slipping underneath the shirt you were wearing. You blinked the fuzzy haze away murmuring the name you called him, before your heart stuttered in your chest and your blood ran cold at the sight of harsh golden eyes. 

You couldn’t understand why you ever thought they looked alike. 

“You call him Theo? How cute.”

When you could force air into your lungs and you could finally listen to your brain yelling at you to move, you scooted backward, using the blanket as a flimsy shield. 

“Your Highness,” you began, breathless as you struggled to find an appropriate response in this incomprehensible situation. “I apologize if the maids directed you to the wrong bedroom, but your chambers are located on the third floor.”

You didn’t like that smile that remained plastered on his face as he watched you. 

“I’m aware of where my quarters reside.”

Then why was he here? Why was he standing over you while you slept? Why were his hands-

“I’m not sure I understand Your Highness.”

He remained quiet. 

Swallowing to bring moisture back to your throat, you asked, “Does Theodore know you’re here?” 

It was a weak attempt to move the conversation along, but asking after your husband seemed like the best thing to do at the time. 

He smiled, expression bordering malignancy as he answered with two words. Two words you didn’t expect to rattle you as much as they did. 

“He does.”

The King began pulling at the cloth at the edge of his fingers, removing his gloves lazily. 

“From what I understand, this bedroom directly connects to both your private chambers, so I suspect little Theodore has sought refuge in the library on the far side of this manor or outside on the training grounds. I can’t imagine him wanting to be close for this.”

The paired condescension and amusement were almost enough to distract you from your overlying question. 

For what? is what you wanted to ask, but your throat lost its moisture at the sight of the King beginning to undress, quickly painting a picture you were trying not to accept. You’d heard about his promiscuity, with nobles, some of which were married, but not like this. 

“One thing you have to understand about my brother is that despite his acts of bravery or his stone-cold appearance, it is all the bravado of a coward.”

He removed his coat to begin unbuttoning the shirt underneath. The fear that gripped your insides allowed you to find your voice. 

“Your Highness,” you licked your lips, feeling your body seize with alarm, but trying to maintain a modem of calmness so your voice wouldn’t sound so stilted. So alarmed the more exposed his chest became. “I apologize if there is any perceived rudeness in my question, but why are you getting undressed?”

He laughed. 

Slow, grating laughter that made goosebumps appear on your skin. 

“I can’t very well make love fully dressed, can I?”

Your heart sank, but you didn’t dare to comprehend his answer to your foolish question. You were rooted in place. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. 

His words refused to register in your mind. 

Any moisture you attempted to retain had dried, making any sound you tried to emit, little more than a voiceless whimper. 

This was the King. 

What could you say to refuse? Were you even allowed to? The constant dread was beginning to grow, your heartbeat loud in your ears the more exposed he became. 

Theo. 

Theodore. Where was Theodore? 

There was no way he would be okay with something like this happening. He would say something to defend your honor. The King was his brother. 

But the King said he knew. Was he lying? Were his words a mere falsehood to placate you into silence? It couldn’t be true. 

“Your Highness, please wait a moment,” you said, your voice hitching as the bed dipped from the unfamiliar weight. It snapped you out of your frantic deliberation. “I don’t think this is right. Please allow me to speak to my husband.”

“Be silent.” The King ordered. You were too panicked to hear the strain in his voice. 

Irritation was present on his features as he stripped himself of his shirt and began to reach for yours.

“My word is law. Your feelings matter none in what is about to happen and there is no use seeking out your husband because he has already consented to this arrangement.” 

His words struck a new sense of fear in your heart, but you couldn’t help it as your hands shot to his wrists to prevent him from exposing you any further. 

With narrowed eyes, he said, “I’m not interested in making this a contest of strength. You will lose.”

You looked into his eyes, a lump forming at his gaze that was unashamed in its indifference. 

“If you insist on making this difficult, I am more than willing to pay your Baron father a visit with the Royal Guard.”

The night was a blur after that.

A truly unforgettable experience. 

You weighed the livelihoods of your parents, your younger and older siblings against a crack in your soul, and you still failed to come to an answer that you felt you could live with. 

Somehow, Theodore couldn’t understand this. You didn’t think he ever would as he demanded the same act in the same room regardless of how it made you feel. 

Maybe they were alike after all. 

“If the Duke desires to push this issue then please schedule the appointed time for the end of the month in order to give me enough time to prepare myself.”

He grit his teeth. It was a slap in the face. His hidden pleas for affection were met with professional indifference, that of which he had never experienced before. 

Not from you, at least. 

“I wish-”

The words caught in his throat as your cold eyes met his. 

I want things to go back to how they were. I want you to love me like you used to. I miss the way you used to look at me.

The longer he remained silent, the deeper that emotion that couldn’t quite seen to name became. 

“By your leave,” you said, not wanting to feel inclined to feel sorry for him, knowing the guilt would creep back in if you stayed any longer. 

After another moment of silence, you tried not to make it look as if you were running to get away. 

You didn’t want to picture the regretful longing on his face. 

It gave you yet another reason to never want to set foot in this room again. 

[vexcraft]

also on ao3 here!

special delivery

Pearl was fairly certain this was not in her job description. 

She supposed she had agreed to do special deliveries and while she would not necessarily count this as one because there was a permit for these kinds of jobs – though she figured that since there was no transaction involved she wasn’t breaking the law and then technically this was not necessarily a job for the man with the mob permit – this was still something she would have called Scar for. If he was available that was. Which brings her to the next problem.

Scar was currently very small, very grey, and a little feathery. And also in her mailbag.

Pearl did know a little about the vex thing. Not a whole lot, it didn’t really come up all that often, but at least she knew enough to realize that the little creature she had spotted inside one of the chests of the explosive firework shop was Scar. She had noticed the chest wasn’t properly closed when she had been restocking her flower truck and she would hate it if rainwater ruined the fireworks that from what she’d heard could cost Cub more to make than he was selling them for, so she had decided to help the man out and close the chest. Only to find a very small Scar in it.

She had no idea what to do with a vex though. Especially with a vex that seemed very much to be sleeping and showing zero signs of planning on waking up any time soon. So she had carefully picked Scar up where he had been curled up in the middle of the fireworks and gently placed him in her bag, glad that she had already delivered all the mail that had been there earlier.

She was also, for once, glad that her donkey was as slow as it was. It made the journey to the one person she figured could probably help her with this issue a little more steady. Steady was what she needed right now – she didn’t trust herself to fly or even run with a literal person in her bag.

The journey took a while, and every now and then she looked into her bag to make sure everything was alright. Each time Scar seemed just as asleep as the last time and she briefly wondered if he was maybe unconscious and not just sleeping – but he seemed to be tossing and turning a little so she wasn’t too worried. Surely Cub would know what was up.

Pearl couldn’t say she was surprised she saw sculk when Cub’s area came into view. The extent of it was mildly terrifying though, especially as he resided quite close to her, but she paid it no mind. She had more important things to worry about, like finding Cub (and maybe hoping that he was not covered in sculk). 

“Cub?” she called as she got off the donkey. She didn’t have a lead and there weren’t any fence posts nearby anyway – she would just have to hope the donkey wouldn’t wander off the pathway into the sculk. “You around here?”

She heard the sound of a firework going off and quickly a rather normal-looking (aside from all the dye stains) Cub landed before her. 

“Hey hey,” Cub greeted her. “What’s up? Good to see you, Pearl.”

“I have a special delivery for you,” Pearl explained, putting on her slightly more professional mail lady voice. 

“Hmm?” Cub hummed, obviously curious. “Intriguing. I don’t remember buying anything or signing up for anything.” 

“Yeah, about that…” Pearl opened her bag and held it out enough for Cub to be able to look inside. He took a few steps forward to peek into the bag and then let out a little amused sound.

“I see, I see,” Cub nodded, reaching into the bag. Pearl winced a little as Cub picked up the sleeping vex by the scruff of his neck like one might hold a small kitten – she was certain Cub knew how to handle a vex miles better than she did but after spending the better part of the last hour being as careful as she could it did catch her off guard a little. Scar didn't seem to mind, still deep asleep. “Where did you find him?”

“He was sleeping amongst the fireworks in a chest at your shop,” Pearl said as she watched Cub cradle the vex in his arms – or rather his arm, he didn’t really need both of his arms to hold something so small. “I figured that might not have been the best place for him.”

“Makes sense, makes sense,” Cub nodded and Pearl had no idea what exactly about this was making sense to Cub, but she was glad something was. “Thank you for bringing him here, I’ll take care of him.”

Cub looked like he was about to turn around and leave to do whatever one did to care for a vex and Pearl couldn’t stop her curiosity. 

“Cub? Can I ask a question before you go?” 

The man paused. “Sure, of course,” he replied. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry which did ease Pearl’s nerves a little. “Shoot.”

"Why?” she asked and it came out a little less polite than she was hoping for. “I mean, is he like, alright? I’ve never seen that happen before. Had me a little worried there.”

Cub seemed to either not notice her tone or simply not care. “Just means he’s really tired. Like really really tired. Nothing too serious, I’ll talk to him about it.” Scar turned a little in Cub’s hold almost like he knew he was being talked about. “It happens sometimes, every now and then.”

“He’ll just be back to normal once he’s rested?” All of this was raising more questions than answering them, but she didn’t want to pry. 

“Yep,” Cub confirmed. “He seems to like sleeping in chests, not the first time he’s been found in one. I’ve never tried to put him in a shulker box, do you think I could mail him?”

Pearl just stared at him. “Please do not try to mail Scar.”

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 9 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your call with Jesse is dramatic on his part to say the least but looks like there's a new guy in town and he's got his sights set on you. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k~ Warnings: Explicit and suggestive language but barely lmao a/n: Sorry this one is a little shorter guys but I figured this was a good stopping point so I hope you enjoy it 🥰 p.s. barely edited as always lol Start from the beginning

"Hello?" I say, my voice ridden with exhaustion since I was woken up out of a sound sleep from my phone ringing on full blast. 

"Hello? That's all you have to say to me? Girl I've been texting you since last night and you never responded" Jesse scolds through the phone and when I look at my messages I have over 50 from him alone. 

"I'm sorry Jess I was busy with Jungkook all day yesterday and I just ended up taking a shower and going to sleep. I guess I forgot to tell you how it went" I apologize, rubbing the sleep from my eye. "Tell me everything I don't care if you're all over the place I just need to live vicariously though you" he says, his excitement palpable even though the phone.

"Well we went to the modiste and found my dress an-" "No no I don't care about the boring stuff. Tell me about what happened between you and Jungkook. Did you guys share glances? Did he touch you? Did he hold your hand? You know the juicy stuff. Well, I guess as juicy as you could get with an etiquette teacher" he spouts off, trying to keep me on track.

"I thought you said you wanted to live vicariously through me? So I was taking you through my day step by step" I say, smiling at his impatience. "I meant the good stuff" he groans and I laugh at his playful frustration before having mercy on him and telling him everything.

"I found out that we like the same music and like similar foods and that he really is a nice guy. Under all of that commanding and strict nature he truly is a great guy" I admit, morning thoughts now full of him giving me a fuzzy feeling in my chest.

"You're falling for him aren't you?" Jesse asks, amused once he hears how I've changed my toon so quickly from one day to the next. "I wouldn't say I'm falling for him but there are some, stirrings" I say, confused and still half asleep, not being able to fully express my emotions properly. 

"Stirrings?" Jesse laughs, knowing what I'm meaning to say without actually having to say it but still pushing me to say more "Yes stirrings and let's leave it at that for now" I say, sitting up and stretching before getting out of bed. 

"Whatever you say" he sings leaving me rolling my eyes as walk to the bathroom and start to pull out the various things I need to get ready. "He also kinda sorta kissed me" I mumble and immediately pull my phone away from my ear, knowing how loud he's going to get about me hiding this from him for so long. 

"HE KISSED YOU? LIKE FOR REAL THIS TIME?" he asks, repeating his reaction from last time but needing to clarify right away since things have been interesting between us to say the least. 

"Well it wasn't full on but it was more than last time" I smirk, knowing that Jesse's way more excited about this than I am. "What's that supposed to mean" he asks quickly, dying to know since this is probably the most important piece of the puzzle he had been waiting for.

"Well I walked him out to his car after he dropped me off to say goodbye, and well he..." "Y/n I swear if you don't just spit it out I'm going to come over there and strangle it out of you" he growls and I laugh, always loving the feeling of torturing him. 

"Alright alright. So when I walked him out he said goodnight to me but when he said it, he said it against my lips. Like he brushed his lips against mine and just left me there and drove off like nothing happened" I say and the silence on the other side of the phone worries me. 

"Jesse?" I ask and then I hear what sounds like him punching his pillow or something. "Jesse are you alright?" I laugh and soon he takes in a deep breath and yell out "HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE LIVING MY DREAM?!?!?!" and I bust out laughing while he scolds me on the other end of the phone. 

"What are you doing?!?!?! You're literally wasting precious time that you could be using to let him fuck your brains out all because he just likes playing games with you. He wants you so bad so just go for it! If not for your own sake then for mine" he whines and I just continue to laugh, trying not to take him seriously because if I do I don't know if I'll be able to act like I don't want him too. 

"When's the ball?" Jesse asks after I had been tuning him out for a second or two. "Next Saturday" I answer and he hums, thinking about if he can squeeze me in for something or other. "Why?" I ask, his silence peaking my interest. 

"Well I wanted to see if you'd let me come and help you get ready for the ball? You know, hair, makeup, nails the whole nine yards" he says and I groan thinking about all of that stuff thrown together in one day. 

"My guess is that my mom is gonna either have someone come over to get me ready or that she'll send me to some sort of shop. If you want you could come with? Maybe get a manicure to while we're at it?" I offer and I can just tell how excited he is about it already.

"Yes yes a thousand times yes! I swear every time I've asked you to do anything that is remotely girly you've always said no so there's no way I'm passing up on this one!" he says and I can't help but smile. "Well I'm glad that I'll have someone by my side to help me endure this torture" I groan and he brushes me off, my claims sounding absolutely ridiculous to him. 

"Anyways I've gotta get ready for class so I'll see you then alright?" I say, checking the clock, thankfully seeing that I have more than enough time to do so. "Alright well hurry up so we can grab some coffee or something beforehand because I'm exhausted" I scoff at his words, since he was the one that woke me up two hours before my alarm was supposed to go off. 

"Why the hell would you be tired? You're the one that woke me up!" and he scoffs right back at me. "I was getting impatient alright! And rightfully so! How could you not tell me he kissed you?" he whines and I know this is my cue to wrap up the call. 

"He didn't kiss me alright. If he does you'll be the first to know, I promise. Unless someone sees of course" I say and he sighs dramatically, impatient with how slowly this whole thing is playing out. 

"Yeah yeah whatever, I'll see you soon. Should I just grab you something and meet you at our table?" he asks and I hum before responding. "Please and thank you" I say, dragging out the last word and soon end the call.

Classes go off without a hitch with Jesse bugging me every other second about Jungkook so I guess it was a pretty normal day to say the least. "Tell me if anything happens at your lessons today alright? No more late updates! I'm honestly still mad at you" he groans before picking up his stuff to go. 

"Yeah yeah whatever. See you later loser" I say, rolling my eyes and he rolls his right back at me even more dramatically. "Bye bitch" he says over his shoulder, giving me one last wave before walking to his last class while I make my way to mine. 

Walking into class I'm greeted by the murmurings of almost all the girls in class all aimed at one guy in particular that I'd never seen before. Granted I don't really pay attention to anyone in this class besides the professor anyways but seeing that there's a big enough reaction, my interest can't help but be peaked. 

As I make my way over to my usual spot in the lecture hall I begin to notice that he's sat right across the aisle from me.

I try to keep to myself and quietly go to my seat and pray he doesn't notice me because the last thing I need is a some guy trying to distract me in class. 

Don't get me wrong I'm not saying that I don't like helping people but, no actually I guess I really don't like helping people now that I think about it. That's besides the point though. All I need to worry about is getting through this lecture and getting out of here so I can make it to my lessons on time with Jungkook. 

As the professor finally makes his way into the classroom and starts to set up I hear someone trying to get my attention. 

"Psst" I hear and know exactly who it is, making me cringe but deciding to acknowledge him nonetheless. I look up at him and realize why those girls had been whispering about him since he, putting it as plainly as I can, is a very attractive human being. 

"What?" I respond and he grants me a smile that would make any other girl swoon, I however am not that girl. 

"Do you have a pencil I could borrow?" he asks, giving me the lamest excuse in the book to get a girl's attention. I summon all the strength I have in my body to resist rolling my eyes and decide to just reach into my bag and grab him one, hoping to be done with this conversation as soon as possible so I can focus on the lecture. 

I hand him the pencil and feel him purposefully brush his hand against mine and I pull my hand back, making him drop it and gaining the attention of the professor. 

"Is there a problem Mr. Foster?" the professor says to the freeloader next to me. "No sir, no problem at all" he says smoothly, trying to charm is way out of the scolding. "See that there isn't" the professor says, raising an eyebrow at him while the boy apologizes making the lecture resume after that. 

~~~~

"Hey" the guy calls out after me as I make my way out of the classroom. I stop and look at him, only planning on giving him seconds to say his piece before leaving, knowing that I'll get an earful from Jungkook if I'm late again. I raise a brow at him as he smiles down at me and doesn't make moves to say anything first. 

"Can I help you?" I say, finally breaking the ice and wanting to get to the point. "Actually you already did. I just wanted to give you your pencil back" he says holding it out to me with a bright smile. "Keep it" I say and turn my back to go and unfortunately he follow after me.

"What's your name?" he asks after squeezing through the students in the halls so he can walk next to me. "None of your business" I grumble and try to walk faster but he follows all the same. 

"That's a curious name" he chuckles, refusing to take the hint to the fact that I don't want to talk to him. "Can't you just leave me alone?" I question, stopping in my tracks, trying my hand at this method rather than just trying to outrun him which seems futile at this point based off of how long his legs are compared to mine. 

"I just wanted to thank my savior since I would've fallen even further behind in class if I wasn't able to take any notes today" he says and I cross my arms, knowing for a fact that half the time he was just looking at me since I could feel his eyes on me every time he looked my way.

"The best way to thank me is to leave me alone. I've got things to do and I don't have time to waste on you Foster" I say, using his last name since that's all I know so far. "It's Daniel" he chuckles at my effort to push him off (figuratively of course, thankfully he has manners enough to maintain personal space).

"I prefer Foster" I say sarcastically and he laughs as if I've said the funniest thing in the world. "Foster it is then" he agrees and I groan, walking off to my car and luckily this time he doesn't follow me, watching me from where we had been standing until I'm out of his sight. 

'Just when I thought my day was going well I've some how created a tail. Why me? Why not all the other girls in class that were obviously fawning all over him?' I shake my head and open my car door, slumping down into it and take a deep breath before putting on my seatbelt and putting my keys in the ignition. 

Hopefully I'll be able to get rid of this sour mood by the time I see Jungkook because otherwise our lessons aren't gonna be the prettiest today and we don't have time for anything but pretty. Time is running out and I need to remain focused if I want to do this and do it right. 

I want to leave a good impression on everyone for James' sake, but more than anything I want to make Jungkook proud of me...   

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[bloodynereid]

can you do literally anything with tara carpenter x reader (with a happy ending) because jenna ortega my loveee <33 - 🧚🏻

Hiding Place

pairing: tara carpenter x gn! reader

warnings: blood, killing/murder, kissing, the usual scream warnings

description: you and tara are stuck in a closet... again.

a/n: tysm for your request 🧚🏻anon! im sorry it took me so long to write, i hope you enjoy this as much as i liked writing it. ALSO i haven't watched scream (2022) in a while so i apologize if there are any like contextual mistakes.

Your fingers were clenched tightly against Tara’s sweater as you tried to calm your racing breath. The air in the closet was too stuffy and the proximity to Tara was definitely not helping. You couldn’t get your brain to stop thinking about what it would be like to just lean over and kiss her.

“Are you okay?” You deign to whisper into Tara’s ear, leaning as close to her as possible to hopefully mask the sound of your voice from anyone that could be outside.

“Not really, you?”

“If you consider getting stuck in a closet, waiting for death being okay then I’m doing great.” Tara’s mouth quirked up in a smile and she turned to look at you. Her brown eyes met yours as she let out a deep sigh.

“You really don’t need to stay with me. You can just go.”

“Tara… you’re my person, okay? I’m staying with you because I want to. Plus you need someone strong to protect you, hmm?”

“My knight in shining armor…” Tara said, trailing off slightly as she bit her lip. You smiled at her and rubbed her shoulder slightly, trying to make sure that the clothing around you didn’t make too much noise. “Thank you, really. You’re my person too.”

“I sure hope so.” You whispered in response, watching as Tara’s face lit up with a smile, even in her tired state she looked beautiful. “God you remember when we were last stuck in a closet together.”

“Seven minutes in heaven. Jesus, that feels like it was a billion years ago.” Tara said with a sigh and you nodded.

“I know right.”

“I never did know why you didn’t kiss me then.”

“Wha-” Your jaw had dropped and you knew you were staring as Tara quickly looked away from your face. “Tara… I would have kissed you then if I had known you had wanted me to.”

“And you just didn’t think to ask?”

“Tara… you were literally talking to Amber about your crush on that football player. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“You have always had a chance.”

“So if I wanted to kiss you right now, what would you say?”

“I would say yes. We might die after all, it’s now or never.” You smiled slightly, feeling as the butterflies in your stomach took flight. You leaned closer to Tara, softly brushing your lips against hers and letting your eyes fall closed. She responded in turn, surging forward slightly to press her lips firmer against yours.

The dangers of the outside world fell away so all you could focus on was Tara. The way she felt against you and how long you had been craving this.

Moments later, after what felt like a blissful hour, you broke away from each other. Both of you laughed silently and you could feel your face brightening with a smile. That was before loud screaming broke you both out of the reverie.

Loud footsteps were heard outside of the closet door and you leaned down to pick up the knife you had managed to grab before rushing into the closet with Tara.

“Get behind me. I think we need to move.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Okay. I trust you.” You nod and then carefully open up one of the doors, stepping out into the hallway. You look over the bannister and see as Sam and Richie struggle for a few moments before Sam succeeds in killing him.

You feel Tara’s hand on your arm as you help her down the stairs, still holding onto the knife tightly. You never know when something or someone will jump out. When you get down the stairs you glance at the gun next to the bannister.

Swapping out your knife for the gun you feel the weight of it in your hand as you turn to Tara and brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.” You look over to where Sid and Gale walk out and smile at them. Sam rushes over to grab at Tara and you feel as they hug each other from next to you.

But the movie isn’t over yet because moments later Amber rushes out. You pull out the gun and shoot. She collapses in a heap as Tara gasps from next to you.

“No one tries to kill my girlfriend and gets away with it.” You breathe out as you lower the gun. Turning to smile at Tara as she smiles back at you.

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ FADE INTO YOU

↳ the chronicles of jj & smartiepants!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . fade into you (mazzy star)

an heavily inspired by the scene in miraculous ladybug w the umbrella... u know the one! also for a bit of context this is jj & smartiepants’ first time talking and she’s new to the school

of course it had to rain on the one day you didn’t bring an umbrella to school with you

for the past week, you’d brought one, thinking it was going to rain. every day was dark and gloomy so you were certain it’d have to rain eventually. however, it never did

today, on friday, you decided not to bring your umbrella to school. it wasn’t as cloudy in the morning, and besides, why would it rain now when it hadn’t on all those other days? as the school day progressed, the clouds built up in the sky and by the time your last class ended, it was pouring

you sighed as you made your way to your locker, hoping that maybe you’d kept a hoodie or something that would shield you from the rain. unfortunately, all you found were papers. there was no one to pick you up from school either, so you were just going to have to walk home and pray you don’t end up with a cold

now, you stood under the shelter of your school building. one step is all it would take for you to be drenched. considering checking your bag one last time in case maybe, just maybe, you had brought your umbrella to school, you watched as people ran to their cars or walked under the shade of their own umbrellas. it seems everyone had predicted this but you

just as you were about to begin your uncomfortable walk home, you heard a voice behind you say, “i knew it would rain today.” turning around, you found yourself facing none other than jason grace - or as you’d heard many others call him, jj. you had a couple classes with him, but this was your first time actually talking to the guy.

he’d intimidated you a little, but your newfound friend reyna explained that he was actually really sweet and ever since that day you’d become intrigued. you started paying more attention to him and noticed how he’d always treat the freshmen with kindness (despite how annoying they could be at times) and how no matter how frustrating his teammates were, not once did he lash out. you wouldn’t say you had a crush, but he definitely interested you

giving him a small smile, you replied, “yeah? well, i didn’t. i thought it’d rain every day of this week and the one time it does i don’t bring my umbrella.” he was standing next to you now, and his brows furrowed at your words

“my sister’s the same, she’s never been able to predict the weather either,” he said. you didn’t know he had a sister - he struck you for an only child. since you hadn’t heard of a second grace at your school, you assumed she didn’t go. still, you chose not to pry. from the soft tone of his voice you could tell this was a sensitive topic

a silence draped itself over you. everyone had gone home now, so the only noise heard was the pitter-patter of the rain as it fell to the ground (and maybe your heart as you fell for him?)

after about a minute, jason cleared his throat, “well, do you have a ride home? i assumed you were waiting for someone but…” you shook your head no, telling him you were going to just walk in the midst of the rain and hope for the best

“where do you live? i’ll walk you. we can share my umbrella - don’t even think about saying no, i insist. can’t let you catch a cold.”

that was that. you told him where you lived (he apparently lived nearby so there wasn’t much issue with dropping you off) and as you walked, you made small talk, discovering more about each other. jason told you about how he’d gotten the scar on his lip and you told him about your life in new york and your old school before moving to california

jason looked up at the sky - you noticed he did that a lot - and smiled, saying, “i really like the rain. it’s stupid, but my mom would say that rainy or stormy weather was a sign my father was keeping an eye on me. looking back on it, i think she just said that cause she was sick of having to wake up in the middle of the night and spend an hour putting me back to bed, but it’s still comforting.”

he had a solemn look on his face as he said this, and you put all the power you could muster into your voice as you replied, “it’s not stupid, jason.” maybe it was the light playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush when you used his name

after thanking jason profusely and promising you’ll pay him back someday, you ran into your home and to the solace of your bed. meanwhile, jason turned, heading the opposite way

the walk home would take double the time now, but he didn’t care

[apheleion]

you take care of hotch after a rough case. tags: blood, slight angst, hurt/comfort, pet names (honey) requests for hotch are open!

You’re not sure what time of night it is when you feel the feather light touch of lips pressed to your temple.

“Aaron?”

“Just me, honey. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

Your eyes flutter open and you sit up despite his words, yawning. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You twist to turn on the lamp that sits upon your nightstand, but Aaron takes hold of your wrist gently. “Honey—”

You wrench your hand out of his grasp and manage to turn it on. “Why are you being so—” A gasp leaves your lips as you lay your eyes on his face. “Oh my god, what happened? You… you’re still bleeding.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I promise. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re kidding, right?” you scoff. “You know I’m always gonna worry about you. Let me clean you up.”

“I can take care of it—”

“Aaron Hotchner, so help me god—”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, sighing.

You throw the covers off and step out of bed. After taking his hand, you lead him into the bathroom and have him sit on the toilet. Once you have the first aid kit, you let it sit open on the counter next to you and stand between his legs.

“What happened?” you ask, voice wobbling slightly as you reach a hand out to cup his face.

“It was nothing. Really. Just got a few punches thrown at me, that’s all.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat as you gently wash the blood from his face. “It looks like more than that.”

“Honey, I’m okay.”

“I know you are,” you say, biting back a sob as tears spring to your eyes.

“Look at me.” You can’t, because you know if you do that you’ll break down, and that’s the last thing he needs after a case like this. “Please.”

The moment your gaze meets his, a few tears trail down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you say, letting out a wet laugh. “You’re the one that’s hurt and I’m crying. What a great wife I am.”

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Aaron tells you, voice firm yet soft. “I should be the one that’s sorry.”

“For what? Doing your job?” you ask, sniffling. “I knew what I signed up for when I married you, Aaron.”

“I know you did ,” he sighs, shoulders slumping forward slightly.

Silence blankets the bathroom as you finish cleaning him up. Once you’re done, you put everything back in the first aid kit, zipping it up and stepping out from between his legs to tuck it into the cabinet.

You walk back over to stand in front of him and take his face in his hands. He gives you one of his rare smiles, the dimple that you love so much making an appearance at the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “And not just for cleaning me up.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands gently. Aaron wraps his arms around your waist, leaning forward to press his face into your stomach. Your stomach flips.

“I know,” you whisper.

[the-lil-spud]

Mama Didn't Raise no Bimbo! Part TWO!

My mind is literally reeling with ideas on this series!!! Hazbin Hotel has meeeee hoookked! And those naughty Vee's definitely have me hooked good and proper!

Part one / Part two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

Enjoy my darlings xoxoxox

Your mouth opens in shock when you see THE Velvette had liked your photo. Heart racing a little you couldn’t control the smile that stretched across your lips, holding in the little squeal you desperately wanted to let out you settled for giving a little excited wiggle in your seat. Or you were until a shadow encased you. Looking up you lock eyes with the main V. Vox. Uh oh.

“And who is this lovely lady, Val?” 

Bugger. Swallowing nervously, you observe the TV demon in front of you that you had seen on your own TV screen at home. Tilting you head up, he was a lot taller than you thought he would be and a lot more handsome.  Realising the other Overlord was making his way towards you both, you quickly stood from your seat while clocking a very worried-looking Angel Dust shoving on their dressing gown behind Valentino.

“Hello Sir, I am Y/n, a friend of Angel Dust”, you hold out your hand to the TV Demon for a handshake. His cold claw like hand took your own in his, raising it up to his face screen and placed a small kiss on the back of it, your blackened fingers and vibrant pink nail varnish reflecting off his screen.

“Ah any friend of Angel’s is a friend of ours, right there Val” his charming smile took up half his screen while his eyes focused on Valentino who arrived at his side towering over us both. Gulping down a shot of nervousness you smile at them both, tapering down the need to take a few steps back. The chair behind you also reminded you that you were cornered by two of the most powerful Overlords in Hell. Remembering a few stories which Alastor recounted for you in the Radio Tower you were doing your best not to panic.

“Yes of course baby, our delicious Y/n is just waiting for Angel Dust to finish his scene – though they did refuse my offer of a job now didn’t you princessa?” Having both their attention directed at you was nerve-wracking but also made you feel a little bit powerful. But you shot down that feeling as soon as you felt it! Dangerous thinking!

Cracking a anxious smile at them you decide to try for an apologetic attitude: “I’m sorry but I did, but I love my job at the moment Sir, so like I said before if I decide to change my career then I will give you a call”.

“And what is it exactly that you do Miss Y/n?” Vox has such a charismatic voice it was easy to get distracted by it and not the words he was saying. Luckily you were doing your best to pay attention to what the Vee’s were saying and doing.

“I am a Singer and Dancer in one of the clubs in Pride Ring and at Cannibal Town”, as you mentioned the last place you watched both their eyebrows raise and look at you a bit differently. Biting your lip slightly to stop the giggle escaping you instead explaining: “not that I am a cannibal but they like my singing and pay good money. As long as I’m singing and they’re paying and not biting it’s a good gig”.

Valentino moved closer, you could tell he was the type of demon that just had no boundaries when it comes to others, trying hard not to flinch as he blew some of that red smoke towards you, “oh don’t you like biting princessa?” That question in his sultry voice, he managed to make a slight blush brighten your cheeks.

“Ah that is between me and my lovers, Sir” you attempt to charm back while trying to find a way to escape from this corner. Almost as if he had read your mind suddenly there was an arm cutting off your escape route, flicking your gaze up to Vox’s amused expression you grumble inside. He must have seen a drop in your face, chuckling under his breath as he smirks at Valentino, the latter was just eyeing you up like you were his next meal. Time to get out of this situation. Like now.

“Sooo … is Angel done? Not that it isn’t lovely to speak to you both gentlemen, but I didn’t put this outfit on just to chat,” you try to look over Vox’s shoulder to see if you could see Angel Dust, who you hoped was coming to your rescue. A gloved finger tapped your chin, making your gaze go towards the tinted one of Valentino.

“And what is the reason for this outfit?” He croons, keeping that gloved finger against your chin challenging you to defy him by removing it.

“To dance the night away” you shake away the urge to flick his finger off your face and instead just glare up into his tinted one, challenging him in your own way. His smirk was just getting larger, his gold tooth glinting in the low light of his studio.

“Uh Y/n you uh ready?” You nearly let your eyes shut with relief when you heard Angel Dust’s voice, as an alternative you turn your head towards the demon letting Valentino’s finger drop from your face with the gesture. A sharp growl was the only tell that he wasn’t happy. Ignoring it you focus on Angel.

Angel’s face appeared in the space between the two Overlord’s shoulders, a concerned expression covered it seeing you cornered by the two. A relieved smile graced your lips trying to put him at ease, or as much ease as you could in this situation. You turn back to the seat behind to grab your coat and purse but before you could two pairs of hands grab them. Cocking your head at the TV Demon, he responds with a charming smile holding your coat up to help you put it on. If you hadn’t heard stories of his temper and what he was like you’d almost be charmed by him.

Thanking him softly, you slip your arms into the coat and allow him to slip it up over your shoulders. What you didn’t expect was him encasing you in his arms as he buttons it, his chest pressed against your back and his breath against your neck. You really hoped he couldn’t feel how hard your heart was beating from nerves right now. With Vox at your back, Valentino moved forwards boxing you in against the other Overlord, his one hand was slipping your purse into your slightly trembling ones as his other brushed your cheek and lifted your chin up, so you were looking up at him.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see a panicked Angel Dust trying to think of ways to save you. Unfortunately, you think this isn’t a situation you might be able to be saved from unless it was yourself doing the saving.

Licking your bottom lip nervously you release a breath before shaking yourself free from both of them. Valentino squeezed your chin briefly for a moment before taking a step back – strange as you thought it would be him that would be the clingy one. Gently, you pry Vox’s hands from your hips pretending not to feel warm sparks from where they rested, they had sat on your hips after buttoning your coat. You give them a soft squeeze as you push them away so they rested at his own hips. Breaking away from them you take a few steps towards Angel Dust. Twisting back vaguely towards the two Overlords you give them both a generous smile.

“Thank you for your company and goodnight gentlemen”. You nod towards them, turning back to Angel you link your arm through one of theirs and almost drag him towards the elevator. Feeling your tenseness, he quickens his pace grabbing his jacket from a chair that you pass, throwing a goodbye to them both over his shoulder.

Getting in the elevator you almost didn’t turn back to face the two Vee’s. Your nerves almost getting the better of you. But if you didn’t turn you just knew that would be a win for them. So, you straighten your spine, mentally pull your big girl panties up and turn as gracefully as you can with your best award winning smile to face them both.

The two predatory smirks and narrowed eyes directed at you made your dead heart thump in your chest.

You were so fucked!  

tagged @tasha-1994

link to A03 just here

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

saying goodbye

(cw: age gap 25/41; mndi, slight nsfw; angst, brief discussion of loss and fear of death)

the part before: comforting him

I wanted to do something nice for König before he goes on his next mission, before he has to leave. Which is quite the challenge to make it a surprise from him when you’re living together. Well, staying together, but it doesn’t change the fact that we spend most of our time with each other.

Another reason, why this doesn't feel like dating anymore. It doesn't feel like just being exclusive. It doesn't feel like a living arrangement because he broke my bed. Also, he seems to be doing better again, after the little downward spiral that plagued him at the end of last week. At the same time… I can't shake the feeling that he's a bit more closed off than he was before.

I sigh. He’ll leave in only two days and we agreed that I would go home tomorrow because, well… it can’t be postponed any longer.

I already knew he has to sort out some stuff today before being deployed, driving into the city, getting a medical check-up and also arranging the details for my new bed to finally be delivered. But this gives me the chance to pack up most of my stuff and prepare what I wanted to surprise him with while he is away for a few hours.

I went grocery shopping after work, got everything that the recipe called for, and started as soon I was back at his place. I cut so many onions for this, I’m all cried out, but I still can’t help the little lump sitting in the back of my throat, closing it up, which has nothing to do with the cut vegetables

He comes back earlier than I anticipated, mumbling something about an incompetent doctor and how he doesn’t like to have his blood drawn. But I shoo him out of his own kitchen with a few comforting words, tell him to sit in the living room and read something. And not disturb me.

“Aye-aye, Ma’am.”, he says, an amused smirk on his face as he jokingly salutes. I roll my eyes and laugh a little, patting his butt, to make him hurry along.

I still need to prepare the sidedish and let the stew cook for a little longer to make sure the meat is tender and the sauce is thick enough. At least that’s what the recipe said. And I need to make sure I do everything right.

When it’s finally done, the kitchen looks like somebody threw around food, although I did my best to clean up as I go.

I fill one of the soup dishes with the stew, putting the Nockerl in there as well, the dough already soaking up some of the sauce. I compare the dish in front of me with the picture from the recipe and I’m actually content with how it came out.

I set the plate down on the island where the seats are and call for König while I get myself a smaller portion. I hear his steps before his huge stature appears in the doorframe.

“Uh, dinner is ready.”, I say wryly smiling at him, with my plate in my hands. I set it down next to his.

“I can see that and I already smelled the cooking in the living room, it smells deli-“ The words gets stuck in his throat as he comes closer, stopping in front of the plate. He drops onto the seat, the furniture aching under his weight. The smile he was still wearing when he came into the kitchen has dissipated, his mouth hanging open, when he looks up from his plate, his eyes finding mine. He looks almost in shock.

I sit down next to him, suddenly very unsure if this whole ordeal even was a good idea.

“You cooked Gulasch?”, he asks, his voice wavering.

I nod. “Yes, I remember how you said that you liked it, so uh, I tried to make it.”

“But you’re vegetarian.”, he adds.

“Yes, but you aren’t. And the original recipe calls for beef.”, I explain, putting the doughy pillows that the Austrians call Nockerl onto my fork, scooping up some of the sauce. I just want to try a bit of, tasting a part of his origins.

He’s still staring as I put the fork into my mouth, and well, he didn’t promise too much when he was talking about his favourite food because that’s really delicious. Though I’m unsure about how authentic it is.

His gaze moves from me to the plate in front of him, finally picking up the fork, and he digs in, taking the biggest bite. I wait to see what his reaction would be like. He shovels two, three forkfuls into his mouth, chewing, tasting. And then suddenly just stops. Goes completely still. And I don’t know what’s going on as his head drops forward, his hair hanging in front of his face.

A small silent sob shakes his chest and a stray tear falls from his face into the stew. My heart drops to my feet. Fuck.

“We don’t need to eat it, if it’s no good.”, I say lightly, trying not to let it affect me. When I go to grab his plate, his head whips in my direction, and I finally get a good look at his face.

“What, no?! I-“ He takes a deep breath, his hand wiping over his eyes quickly, like the tear was never there. “This is the nicest thing somebody has done for me in a long time.”, he finally says. “And it reminds me of my Oma.” A deep sigh shakes his tall frame. “So, thank you, okay? It’s delicious.” He takes my hands, softly pulling them towards him, pressing a kiss on each palm.

The sadness in his eyes isn’t completely gone when I look into them, and I didn’t anticipate that this simple gesture of cooking him his favourite meal would have him in shambles like that. But the smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is a warm one, thankful and happy.

“You’re welcome.”, I simply tell him. “I’m glad you like it.” I press my lips to his, reassuring the big giant that it was okay, without saying it out loud.

When I pull back, he lingers, his hand shooting up to the back of my head, stealing another kiss. Long, deep and oh so soft. Another “thank you”, without saying it out loud.

“What was your Oma like?”, I ask him, taking a forkful of my sauced-up Nockerl. He talked about her before, but it might keep me from tearing up as well.

The smile on his face gets wider and he starts to tell stories about her. Leaving the other people in his family out of it, for the most part.

How she always asked him to get the stuff from the upper shelves because he was already taller than her at age 12. How he sat in the kitchen doing his homework while she cooked. How she stopped pestering him about going to church on Sunday eventually, but still almost smacked him in his head when he turned the cross in the living room upside down as a joke. How she cried when he joined the military because that was the last thing she wished for him. How she still let him go and how he had to promise her to come back – or else. How he helped her in the garden every time he came home and kept doing that well into his 30s. And how he nearly missed her funeral because he almost couldn’t get permission to leave for a few days.

König takes seconds and even thirds, eating almost all of the Gulasch I cooked. I’m already done sitting over my empty plate, listening to him talk, getting us something to drink. When he is done as well, he grabs the plates to wash up, not letting me help in any way, because “Oh no, you already cooked and everything”. He tells me to pick out a movie I’d like to watch, the glint in his eyes telling me that it’s probably going to get cut short again, so I put on Pulp Fiction, a movie we both have watched countless times before.

He laughs as he comes into the living room with a beer in his hand and sees my choice on the flatscreen, taking a seat at the couch and I hop onto his lap when his ass barely touched the cushions. We’re entangled, as close as you can be. And it doesn’t take long for his hands to wander. Squeeze, caress, stroke over my body. Teasing me with soft kisses against my neck until a heavy sigh leaves my lips. He takes that as an invitation to finally take me to the bedroom where he lies me down on the mattress to eat me out, while he kneels on the floor. Messy, sloppy licks and nibbles, his fingers methodically filling me until I cum for him, my thighs pressing together around his head.

He crawls over me, pushing into me with his dick, after teasing my clit some more with his tip, the piercing deliciously pressing into the sensitive nub.

Slow and sweet doesn’t mean less intense, the soft stretch with every sensual roll of his hips sending sensations over my body, making me pant and throw my head back with pleasure.

His hand on my chin compelling me look at him while he is fucking me like this… until it doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore. When I come again, this time around his dick, it feels like a soft wave washing over me, his name on my lips, and he doesn’t stop pushing into me, prolonging my orgasm and chasing his own until he spills inside me.

He presses kisses to my cheek, pulling me into him, and we snuggle up against each other to fall asleep. My back is against his front, the heat of his body warming me, that I don’t even need a blanket. Feeling the comfort of his embrace a little more clearly than usual.

And the realisation hits me that he is going to leave. And I’m gonna go back home, to my apartment. No more König when I come home from work. No shared meals in the kitchen, no sitting in his lap on the couch. No laughing fits in the middle of the night when one of us says something so stupid that the other can’t comprehend. No filthy sex and tender kisses. No calling him “old man” to get a rise out of him. No dirty punishment for my bratty ass. No feeling him inside me, his brows turned up, his eyes rolling back in ecstatic expression as he comes. None of it, at least for some time.

I push those thoughts away, pulling his arms tighter around me as if I could keep him like this. I close my eyes, ignoring the one stray tear that rolls down my cheek, and drift off into sleep.

And with this the day I have been dreading the whole week is finally here. The day when I return to my own apartment after staying with him for weeks. I even took a day off of work for this.

I’m trying not to let it show too much, because it’s a bit stupid. This living arrangement always was meant to be temporary and I always knew he was on leave, needing to go back to his work at some point sooner or later. But now that it’s here… I kinda don’t want it to happen at all.

The coffee tastes a little bitter as I sip it, even though he added just as much milk as usual, with the typical joking disgust while diluting the tasty elixir, that always makes me chuckle and shake my head.

The sunlight streaming through the big windows in the living room blinds me as it reflects off the shiny couch upholstery when I go to collect Mimi from her spot, putting her in the cat carrier.

The book I finished reading on the weekend gets caught when I push it into its place on the shelf, some of the pages creasing. I curse, showing König and apologizing. He takes the book from my grasp, straightening out the crinkles, and puts it back. “Don’t worry, Liebes, it’s just a book.”, he says, his arm coming around me as he pulls me against his warm body and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I get the rest of my stuff, seeing that one of my yarn balls has tangled into a net of knots, and I curse again. Of course, it did. I put my crochet bag into one of the boxes and carry it outside.

With a sigh I look back over my shoulder one last time and close the door behind me, placing my stuff in the trunk and climbing into the driver’s seat of my own car. Starting it and driving after him, and it’s weird not to sit right next to him in his car.

It’s weird being home again. Letting Mimi out of her carrier, the little kitty running around, brushing against his legs. And he picks her up, carrying her around, just like they always do. The small creature is purring against his chest as he shimmies her around, humming some tune I can't place.

It’s weird standing here in my apartment with him, waiting for the bed to be delivered. I can feel my bubbly yapping coming back, not being able to shut up, and König is listening like he always does. Short, one-worded answers while his hand is petting Mimi, scratching between her ears and under her chin.

The doorbell ringing tears us from our conversation. The delivery guys are handing the packages over, asking if they should help bring them in, but König declines, giving them a tip and sending them their way.

I’m not as easily deterred from trying to help with the packages, although König is carrying most of them, barely breaking a sweat, while I struggle with the smallest one.

Sitting on the bedroom floor, his tall figure still reaching up to my hips before I get down next to him. He’s glancing at the instructions, squeezing his eyes together, but I can tell he’s having a hard time seeing the illustrations of the steps correctly.

And of course he is too stubborn to ask for help. I grin to myself and shake my head. “Forgot your glasses?”, I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.”, he says wryly, and I extend my hand, suggesting silently he’ll hand over the instructions and he does, with a sigh and a little smile.

While I’m still studying the instructions, he’s laying out the pieces and already putting the first parts together. Of course, he is choosing the hands-on approach, even with stuff like that, figuring it out as he moves along, and I chime in with a few comments here and there, guiding the construction.

His long hair is getting in the way and I lend him a hair tie, and I don’t think I’ll ever manage to get over how meticulous he puts his hair in a ponytail. I mean, he probably has done that same move for years, his hands collecting all the stray strands, the band snapping around them with two quick motions and then it just sits perfectly at the back of his head.

We spent so much time together and I realise that I’ve never seen him do that. The whole time he was always wearing his hair down, some strands hanging in front of his face. Sometimes he put them into a lose bun when he was working out, but never like this.

“What?”, he asks me, a hint of uncertainty on his face.

I shake my head. “Nothing, your hair looks good like that.”, I say, clearing my voice when it dares to break off, but I save it with a smile which gets mirrored by his, and I can’t help but put a kiss onto it while a pang of something spreads in my chest. I feel like I know him so well, and yet I keep learning parts of him I’ve never seen before.

“Come on, Hexe.”, he says when I linger, prolonging the kiss, caught in my thoughts, his hand patting my hip which makes me giggle a bit, but I can't shake the feeling that's settling in my stomach. Fuck, he's gonna leave.

Pretty quickly we construct the bed, it’s easy enough, especially when you’re following the instructions – a sentiment I say out loud after he managed to stick two pieces together who fit, but actually belong like that. He just grins and pulls them apart easily, his muscles flexing for just a moment.

“Show-off.”, I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

Finally, the frame is done, the slats already fitted into it and last but not least, we hoist the mattress onto them.

“You didn’t need to buy me a new one, you know.”

He shoots me a look. A knowing one.

“Really, it was fine. The old one would have sufficed.”

“I have slept on that mattress. You needed a new one.”

“Oh, that's just your old bones.”, I quip, and I know how ridiculous I must sound telling that to a soldier who can probably sleep anytime anywhere.

He pinches my nose. “You're not getting younger yourself, Missy.”, he answers. "Your back will be thankful."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I say grinning and bump my hip against his, rather hitting the burly thigh, before getting some bedsheets.

The fresh sheets match the nice dark wood of the bedframe, the bed now looking so much nicer than the rest of my furniture pieces.

“Thanks. For the new bed.”, I tell him, smiling up at him, getting on my tiptoes.

“No need to thank me, Liebes.”, he answers, leaning down and meeting me halfway for a kiss. “It was my fault you needed a new one in the first place.”, a wry grin accompanying his words.

“Well, this looks much sturdier like the one I had before.” I tap the wooden frame, a hollow knock resounding.

“Well, I needed to make sure that it wouldn’t break that easily again.”, he says, smiling down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. A reminder of how we broke it in the first place.

“Care to test that theory?”, I ask him cheekily, although I’m not really in the mood right now. My heart is way too heavy.

Before I can say anything else, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me up on the bed, the mattress dipping down under my weight. His hands are steadying me when I start to jump up and down, bouncing on it. Damn, it’s really nice. And I don't dare to ask how much he spent on it.

“Sturdy enough, you think?”, he asks me.

I nod. “You wanna come up here too?”, I tease him.

He shakes his head, just grinning, following my movements up and down with his eyes.

“Oh come on!”, I exclaim, not ready to stop this sillyness.

He pulls up his eyebrows. “I don’t think that would be wise, we don’t need to push it.”, he grins, when all of a sudden, there’s a faint cracking sound, and I stop, almost toppling over trying to hold my balance on the wobbling mattress.

“Point and case.”, he remarks as his arms coming around my waist as he lifts me off the bed.

“Okay, okay…”

I hold onto him like a little spider monkey, my legs closing around him, my cheek pressing against his shoulder as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Like I could keep him here like that. Or he’ll just take me with him when I stick to him like a limpet. Maybe I’m small enough to fit into his pocket.

My fingers get caught in his hair as I try to run them through it like I always do, and he pulls the hair tie from them, putting it away, letting me play with the long strands, as he goes to sit down.

The couch in my apartment is way smaller than his, his frame fills the cushions easily, so I have nowhere else to sit but his lap. Like I would have sat anywhere else. Trying to be as close to him as possible.

We’re not saying anything, just sitting here. My head rests against his shoulder, his scent all around me. I can hear his heart beat, feel it beneath my fingertips resting on his chest. Steady and strong, but a little too fast.

His hands are gently caressing my thighs and back, and even though I feel the sadness seep into me, the soft touches ground me.

We sit in silence for what seems eternity while at the same time lasting barely more than the blink of an eye. And I wish we could remain in this moment, frozen in time, but well.

He sighs softly, the deep sound pulling me from my thoughts, and I lift my head, to look at him.

“We need to say goodbye.” He slumps back, his shoulders hitting the backrest. “I wish I didn’t need to go.”, he exhales. Saying what I was thinking.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here when you're on leave again.", I tell him, softly kissing his cheek. He turns to me, the expression on his face serious and... a bit sad.

"But you shouldn't be.", he says, calm and steady.

"But-", I want to protest.

He shakes his head. "No, you should be with somebody your age, someone who can give you stability." He sighs. "Someone who can guarantee you that they'll come back to you. Every time they leave."

And the realisation hits me. He isn't saying goodbye for now. He's saying goodbye for good.

“I see.”, is all I manage because my feelings come crashing down over me with a vicious fervor. I thought I was going to have to deal with him leaving for weeks or months. With him being gone for a while. Not with a breakup.

“I’m sorry.”, he apologizes and starts to explain. “I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.” The admission in his words makes my stomach flip upside down. I actually feel a little nauseous as my hands grip my own thighs, trying to hold onto something. “And I should’ve maybe said something earlier.” He swallows hard.

“The truth is that I had the best time this leave, and that was solely because of you.” He finally looks at me again, the raw emotions in his eyes almost scaring me. But the resolve in them is clear as well. “I couldn’t get myself to break it off. But I can’t make you wait for me either. Because I can’t even promise you that I will return.” His voice is shaking now and seeing him like this makes my lower lip tremble as I just try to breathe.

“And I can’t do that to you. The thought of you waiting for me at home and only a casket coming back… has been killing me inside these past few days.” The words come out choked and I can’t look at him anymore, my head snapping to the side as that image fills my mind. “Fuck, I’m really sorry, okay?”

We sit here like this for a moment longer. His hands stopped caressing my thighs and back, and I want to scream. The cold feeling of loss grips my heart, a viciously clawed hand leaving gaping wounds as it was making its way up my chest. He’s still sitting underneath me, but I feel like he’s already gone.

“I get it.”, I finally say, my voice trembling and hoarse. Still not able to look at him because I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my tears.

“I knew you would.”, he says, the words breaking up as he speaks. And I think back to when he told me that he couldn’t have a partner or family because his job won’t allow it. And I finally get why he thinks like that. At least I guess so. The big house devoid of any life but him, his own little safe haven, and I only now understand how temporary this whole arrangement really had been. I just didn’t see it. Maybe because I didn’t want to.

While I still try to process everything, he lifts me up and sets me down on the cushions of the couch. Like he did countless times the last few weeks. In his living room. And a sob tears from my chest because the gesture reminds me of so many tender and filthy moments at the same time. I hug my knees, pulling them close to me, already missing the warmth of his body. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.

He crouches down, coming face to face with me, and it just hurts to look at him. The bandshirt he bought for the concert we went to together. The tattoos on his knuckles, straining from the tension in his balled-up fists. The long dark hair, pushed to the side, falling back down his shoulder. I don’t need to touch it, to know how soft it feels. The mouth that smiled at me so often. The lips I have kissed countless times and that have kissed every inch of my body. The furrowed brows. The slack expression on his face concealing the laughlines. And for the first time since I’ve known him looking into his eyes doesn’t give me comfort.

He carefully takes my chin, the pads of his fingertips rough against the skin, softly digging into my jaw, like he likes – liked to do. He leans forward pressing a kiss to my lips which almost makes the tears drop from my eyes. A kiss to say goodbye, gentle and bittersweet.

"Stay safe, okay?", he whispers, his eyes looking intently into mine, but I can only nod. My throat is closed up because I know he won't be safe. Not saying anything because I don't want to cry in front of him. Because that will only make it harder, on both of us.

He straightens back up and leaves. The door falls shut behind him.

And I finally let the waterworks flow, sobs shaking my chest as I throw myself into the couch where he sat just a few moments ago.

Mimi’s meow pulls me from my crying fit when she jumps up onto the couch, her little head bumping into me, and I pull her against my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks. And the odd thought crosses my mind if the crinkles in the book on his shelf are the only remainders of me in his house. While I have this new bed.

How did we get here? Masterlist

a/n: i have been working on this chapter for months and i knew what was coming and now that it's finished, i can't help but still feel the sadness hitting me 🥲 - and no, this is not the last chapter (in case you were fearing that rn) take this recipe for authentic austrian beef gulasch as a token of my apology

[spectres-n-soap]

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back - Ghost x You x Soap

Content Warnings - pregnancy, afab!fem!reader, panic attack

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You look at yourself in the mirror, you feel different. You feel like you’re getting better and you have expressed this to Dr Miller, told him how you think you’re starting to get better.

He had smiled at you, congratulated you but also warned you that healing is not linear. Much like an old scar, sometimes it’ll ache and you might find yourself hurting all day. You, being a soldier with a few scars that did happen to ache some days, took this like cough medicine. You knew that healing wasn’t linear. How many times have you broken something or needed stitches? You knew that healing was never as easy as it sounded. But today, you felt good. You’ve been feeling good all week despite the anxiety at the back of your mind, like a predator readying itself to strike at the unsuspecting prey. But you suspect it and therefore aren’t prey. You aren’t prey.

Simon peaks his head into the bathroom, checking on you like a mother hen. Last week, after returning home from dinner, you hadn’t just taken a step forward. You felt like it was a giant leap.

”You can sleep in the bed.” You murmured, finding it hard to meet his eyes when you said it.

”You’re not taking the couch.” Simon said gruffly and you cannot help the way your eyes rolled.

”No you wanker, I mean with me.” You huffed, annoyance washed away any sense of apprehension about offering this to him. You had been feeling bad about him sleeping on the floor next to you just so you could hold his hand on nights when you find it hard to sleep. Which seemed to be every night when you weren’t holding his hand.

Simon clutched the steering wheel of the vehicle, his knuckles nearly go white. You don’t notice it or pretend not to. He can’t tell, not when he has to focus on not crashing the car from the shock of you saying that. Finally he manages to speak again, “Okay, if that’s what you want.” He was not shocked to see you had put a pillow wall between him and you. He expected and found it surprisingly easy to settle into bed.

You smile at him, a thing that you feel like you’ve been doing more often. Yesterday you had smiled so wide your cheeks had hurt when Simon had brought home your favorite takeout while you had taken a short nap on the couch. “You sure about this?” He asks again and you roll your eyes with a smile.

”You sound like a dad.” You tease as you walk past him and grab your slip on shoes. “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be good for me, even my therapist says so.” You comment as you slip the shoes on with a little more trouble than normal. You frown just a little, your feet have become more swollen. God damn it.

”I’m just making sure.” Simon says as he grabs your purse and hands it to you. “You’ll call me if you need me, right?” He asks and you can see the worry in his brown eyes. Genuine worry for you and you pat his bicep reassuringly.

”I will Simon.”

The group is nice. Although most of the women are a little less far along as you, they welcome you in with open arms. People discuss names for their babies, the genders and how excited or nervous they are. One woman, a pretty woman named Linda who is closest to you in terms of months, immediately brings you into her small group of women. They chatter and blessedly, don’t try to pry into your life. They don’t ask about your husband or the gender of the baby, the only thing they ask about is the name.

Your cheeks turn warm when you admit you hadn’t looked into any baby names yet. Linda gasps, jokingly, and offers you her baby name book, saying “I’ve already got my baby girl’s name picked out. I’ve had my eye on it since I was a little girl. I read it somewhere. Ophelia, how pretty of a name is that?” You smile and agree that it's a beautiful name. For once, you wonder if the baby is going to be a boy or a girl.

Everyone settles down when the teacher(?) starts. She goes over some things that every parent needs to know once the baby is here. How to make a bottle of milk, how to change a diaper, how to help get the baby on a sleeping schedule so you don’t go insane from lack of sleep and resources for postpartum depression. The class, overall, is wonderful. Most of the stuff you knew about but you have a feeling half of the reason for these classes is to know you aren’t alone and to make future new moms.

You’re walking up to Linda with the intention to give her your number so the two of you can text about the struggles of being this far along in a pregnancy. How achey your feet are or how your favorite foods seem to have been ruined. You stop dead in your tracks when you see her husband, it must be her husband since you saw the ring on her finger, come up to her.

All the warmth in the room seems to be sucked out when you see him. Messy brown hair, a bright and mischievous smile with a matching set of bright blue eyes that remind you of those springs in Florida that somehow keep getting advertised to you despite living in the UK.

He looks exactly like Johnny. So much like him that for a moment you think it is him until reality comes crashing down, you watch him smile down at her and kiss her tenderly. Your stomach lurches and your eyes burn, breathing becomes a struggle as you turn on your heel and rush towards the bathroom. You shut the door and lock it behind you, ignoring anyone who tries to talk to you and throw up into the toilet. You retch up your breakfast and that little fruity drink you had grabbed on the way here. Hot tears run down your face as you heave up everything in your stomach and then some.

You fall back, the taste of bile in your mouth only adds to whatever is happening as you sob. You grab at your hair as you cry and wonder what is going on. Why is this happening? Why now? You were doing so good! What did you do wrong? You should have never left the house, should have listened to Simon and stayed home.

Simon.

You fumble in your bag and shakily unlock your phone, immediately finding his contact in your phone and calling him. “Simon.” You sob into the line and he immediately knows.

”I’ll be right there luv, stay on the line with me yeah?”

”Okay.” You warble out as you struggle to breath past the sobs that shake your entire body.

”You got to breathe luv, can you do that for me? In, hold for three, out.” Simon talks you through it on speaker as he immediately begins to drive to you.

[feyd-rautha-aesthetic]

Love Bites - Chapter III / Sneak Peek!

! This sneak peek is almost continuously about sex, isn't it? But don't worry, the whole chapter also contains other topics. (Known topics - blood & gore, bit! soft Feyd- as usual only to you etc.) Even though I think this will be the chapter with the most smut content. It's going to be disgusting... I think... And mean. Him to you. :p

But also extreme soft, you'll see.

I hate his uncle, everyone hates Vladimir! ಠ_ಠ

❝Then I'll give up the nights with her. But only, when I can talk to her during the day. And by that I also mean outside of training.❞ Feyd spoke more and more firmly with every word. 'Talk' , Vladimir thought mockingly. His nephew shouldn't have mentioned that he had just disturbed their intimacy. He nodded to Feyd, but already had new plans in mind. ❝Make sure you don't make any more mistakes, nephew.❞

Mistakes? Him?

Feyds eyes met the Barons with full force. Anyone else would have pissed themselves in fear. But no matter what Feyd did, Vladimir didn't care. Especially not when you were the topic. Feyd had nothing to say, it was as simple as that. At least as long as his uncle was present. ❝I should have let her kill you yesterday!❞, he said angrily. His voice almost cracked, though he wasn't loud. Yet everyone here could hear his words. The Na-Baron didn't dare to move in those seconds. If he took only one step forward now, he was sure that even the guards wouldn't be able to hold him. He saw one of the ladies next to his uncle dare to raise her head and glance briefly at the young Harkonnen. Feyd recognized her immediately. It was the waitress from last night who had offered you and him the drinks on his celebration. ❝Yes, the offspring will be beautiful. That's for sure!❞ He answered her now. Surprisingly calm, in contrast to his previous words. And he knew he had said the words out loud. The lady smiled gently, but lowered her head again. Vladimir turned to the ladies, but did not recognize who had raised their heads. ❝One of them complimented the Na-Baroness yesterday... no, us.❞ Feyd grinned nastily at his uncle. ❝If you continue to make mistakes, she will not bear your offspring!❞ Vladimir continued to clarify.

Shaking with rage again, Feyd left the hall without a word. He felt like you did yesterday, when you walked away suddenly. He swallowed, his eyes wandering back and forth, left to right, wondering how he could avoid his uncle's order. There wasn't much time for intense intimacy during the day. Today the training hall had been an exception because you had been in the same place at the same time and you had teased his ego. Maybe it wouldn't have occurred to him to touch you otherwise. Since he preferred to do it in a bed with you anyway. Or in the thermal, as he had discovered last night. And in that moment, he realized what the strange feeling inside him was. Grief. Even if it wasn't every night, he loved it having your body by his side. No matter whether it was in his chambers or yours. Holding you in his arms. Knowing that you were his property and there was nothing you could do about it. And he had to admit to himself that he liked it when someone felt comfortable in his presence. Except for his whores.

He knew that if Vladimir told them about his words, it wouldn't matter at all that he had only given them to Farris yesterday. And they would certainly be happy to be allowed to pleasure him again. No, to should. Feyd remembered your words, how you had told him in the thermal that it would be fine with you if he became intimate with them again. As long as it would put his uncle in a 'better mood'. And it really did seem that way. That it would make him feel better. The Na-Baron wondered if he could just refuse them. Or would they tell Vladimir? Feyd couldn't think straight at the moment.

-

❝Apologize, my Baroness.❞ , he said as he re-entered the training hall. You hadn't moved a bit, or so it seemed, during his absence. You realized immediately that something was wrong. ❝What happened?❞ , you asked, startled, when you saw the blood on the dagger. ❝My uncle was... talking.❞ Feyd explained as he knelt down to you and cut the tape from your wrists. You shook your aching joints once before he took a look at the irritated skin himself. ❝What did he say?❞, you asked, wanting to know for sure. Feyds appearance had changed. The previous grin was completely gone, now there was anger in him. Maybe even rage he tried to hide. The young man sighed, thinking about how he could explain it. ❝We're not allowed to see each other. Not at night anymore. He doesn't want us to be intimate with each other. The fact that you are my fiancée, the Na-Baroness, doesn't interest him in the slightest. From tonight, there will be guards outside our chambers at night.❞ , he began, kissing your skin below your belly button before pulling your pants back up. ❝Guards?❞ , you asked with wide eyes.

❝Mh-hm.❞ Feyd only said. ❝During the day, I think we can see us... still. But I don't know if he'll stick to those words.❞, he continued. It was hard enough for you to see each other during the day either way. You both couldn't spend the whole day in the training halls either. And even here, you didn't always meet. You looked again at the bloody sword. ❝It's not his blood. Unfortunately.❞ Feyd said. ❝It's from someone insignificant.❞ He took your face in his hands, stroking the dark circles under your eyes again. ❝I'm taking you to bed. You don't look healthy, you're pale. Training won't do you any good, or very little, if you're not in good shape.❞ He spoke as if he were talking about the weather - he sounded uninterested. Confusion spread through you. Mixed with a little fear. You still found it difficult to assess him and his emotions. His strong arms picked you up with ease and you leaned your head against his warm shoulder and, to be honest, were glad that you didn't meet anyone on the way. It must have looked pretty strange the way the Na-Baron was carrying you on his hands.

When you arrived, he carefully lowered your body onto your bed. ❝Drink.❞ , he spoke and gave you the glas bottle of water that was next to your bed. ❝Do you need anything else? Should a servant bring you something?❞ Feyd asked you, resting his head on your thigh. ❝I don't think so, thanks.❞ , you replied after a few sips of the cool liquid. Feyd took the bottle from you and took off your boots. Your pants and top followed, he didn't want you to sleep in those clothes. His eyes were glued to your naked chest, seeing his love bites and hickeys. And it aroused him far too much. ❝Fuck.❞ , he growled as his hands stroked your skin. ❝How dare he rip you from me?❞ , the Harkonnen murmured, slowly settling down and burying his nose in your neck until he finally started to spread kisses over your blotchy skin. ❝I'm going to kill this scum! Slash him open and let him bleed out long and agonizingly! A quick death would be a gift for him, but I won't give him that!❞ Feyd pushed your jaw back up to kiss the thin skin under your chin, down your throat. Marked you with more hickeys.

Only his.

He growled deeply, kissing the soft skin of your breasts. You sighed comfortingly and your slender fingers caressed his muscular shoulders. ❝You have to go.❞, you said quietly. The words hurt yourself as you uttered them. ❝I don't want to!❞ Feyd growled menacingly and his hands gripped tightly around your waist. He wanted to feel that you were with him here and now. He took the dagger with the dried blood from his belt and placed it next to you on the mattress. He didn't want to hurt you now.

You looked at the blade as Feyds lips made their way down your body. The bloody dagger had you so mesmerized for a moment that you hadn't even felt Feyds touch until he pulled your underwear off your legs. He knelt to the floor, pulled your body closer to the edge of the bed and kissed your lower lips as he spread your legs a little more. ❝What about my punishment?❞ , you asked breahthless. ❝That's off topic now!❞ , he snarled and gripped your thighs tightly with both hands.

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (2)

Youth

Lady Arianwyn and Prince Aemond grow up side-by-side.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: This chapter is entirely new! The old chapter 2 will be back later as chapter 3. Also, I have not been around babies or toddlers or even kids under 10 since I was that age myself, so if I got any childhood development facts wrong, just pretend that I didn't!

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Only four days after Prince Aemond Targaryen saw his eleventh moon, he took his first steps. It was a matter of necessity. His nursemaid had set him on the nursery floor too far from Aria – all the way on the other side of the rug!

He did not really know who Aria was.

He did not know that her full name was ‘Arianwyn,’ for everyone only called her Aria – except for the large men in bronze suits, who called her ‘Lady,’ or sometimes “Little Lady.” He did not know that she was his cousin, as he did not know what a cousin was. He did not know that she had not always been with him or that she was younger than him, for he had no memories without her there.

All he knew was that Aria was always there, and he was always with her.

But in that moment, she was too far away. He took one look at Aria’s sad and confused face, and he knew he needed to get to her. If he didn’t do it soon, she would start to cry. He hated it when she cried. It made him want to cry.

So, he started crawling toward her. Slowly, he was moving too slowly. She looked more and more like she was going to cry, and Aemond decided there wouldn’t be anything worse in the world.

He pushed his arms against the floor, bracing himself as he raised up onto his legs, as the bigger people did. When he lifted his arms again, he saw Aria staring at him, no longer looking like she was about to cry. While he was glad, he still wanted to go to her.

“Hurry, get the queen!”

Aemond remembered that last word, ‘queen.’ He heard it a lot when his second-favorite person was around. Was she here, too?

He turned his head to look at the part of the wall where people came through but didn’t see anyone. The turn cost him, though. His legs grew wobbly, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to fall. He couldn’t prevent the fall, but maybe he could control it.

His arms flailing, Aemond leaned forward and took three steps closer to Aria before he fell on his face.

Three steps were enough, though. Aria had crawled forward to meet him in the middle of the rug, a wide smile on her face as she squealed with delight. Tears had already sprung to Aemond’s eyes from his fall, but when he looked at Aria, he forgot why he had wanted to cry.

“Aria!”

“Aymmmmmuh!”

Aemond knew words now – several of them. It infuriated Arianwyn. Especially when his favorite word was her name, and she could not say his back.

She knew his name. Whenever someone said “Aemond,” she knew they were talking about him. She just couldn’t get the word out. The first part, the “ay” sound, she usually got right, but it always fell apart from there.

The worst part was seeing his frustration when she failed, yet again, to say his name. She wanted Aemond to like her – needed him to like her.

He wasn’t like Aegon, who was too big and played in ways she couldn’t, or Helaena, who barely liked to play at all. They weren’t even there most of the time. They were big enough to leave the nursery and go to different places like “garden” or “great hall.”

But Aemond was perfect. He played exactly how she liked, and though he was bigger than her, he never played too roughly. When Aunt – who Aemond called “mama” – took Aegon and Helaena out of the nursery, he stayed with her. He always stayed with her. Even when they were in their cradles, she could still see him from across the room.

“Aymmnuh,” she tried again. And failed again.

Aemond frowned and shook his head. “No.”

Another favorite word of his – Aegon taught it to him. Arianwyn huffed, the sound echoed by the hatchling dragon sunning itself in the window.

Some weeks prior, she had woken in the hour of the wolf to find that the egg that had lain in her cradle had shattered. Shards of black speckled with storm gray and ice blue were strewn across her blanket, and the comforting heat she had grown accustomed to warming herself against was gone. As she began to cry, she noticed a shape looming over her, perched on the edge of her cradle.

The night nurses screamed, shouting at the guards outside the door. Both the man in red and black and the man in bronze looked at her and the dark shape at her feet with wide eyes before running down the corridor so fast their clanging armor sounded like a thunderstorm.

The noise woke Aemond, who looked from Arianwyn to the shape that had leaned down to peer at her. “Dwa- dwagon!”

Arianwyn watched as it jumped down from its perch. She could barely make out the shape in the darkness and against the deep brown of her fur blankets. It did look like the toys they played with that the others called “dragon.” Two membranous wings, a thin, flicking tail, a long neck covered with small spines, and eyes like living ice.

It moved cautiously as it approached her until she could see the faint lines of gray and white within its blue eyes—a dragon. Her dragon.

As she now frowned at Aemond, her dragon was sprawled on the stone of the windowsill, wings spread lazily as it echoed her frustration without even opening its eyes.

“Dragon!” Aemond exclaimed.

“Muhmuhnd!” She was so close, she knew it. She had all the pieces. She just needed to put them together. “Ay!”

Aemond stared at her, a hint of a smile on his face from knowing she was about to try again.

“Ay!” Her face was scrunched in determination as she shouted. The nurses paused their work and looked at her as well.

“Ay-muh!”

Aemond started clapping. One of the nurses whispered to another before slipping out the door.

“Ay-muhn!”

In the window, Arianwyn’s dragon sat up, small clouds of smoke puffing from his nostrils as it began to climb down from the window.

“Ay-muhn-duh! Aemond!”

One of the nurses pressed a hand to her chest and said a word Arianwyn didn’t know. The others started rushing around. But Arianwyn didn’t care. She was looking at Aemond, who clapped and smiled wider than she had ever seen.

“Aemond!” She shouted again, delighting in his responding laugh.

He pointed at her. “Aria!”

“Aemond!”

“Aria!”

“Aemond!”

There was a new baby in the nursery—two, actually, but Daeron had already been there for four moons, so his novelty had worn off.

Aemond and Arianwyn sat together on one end of the room, watching as he was held by his mother, Rhaenyra, who was also Aemond’s sister. That made him Aemond’s nephew, the nurses had explained.

They had also explained what he was to Aria, but he didn’t quite understand it, as it was somehow much more complicated. Aegon said he understood, and Helaena had nodded, which meant she probably understood, too. She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it never made much sense.

Aegon also explained that the new babe, whose name was “Jacaerys,” but everyone just called “Jace,” was something called a bastard. It meant that Jace’s father wasn’t his father; some other man was. But that didn’t make sense. Rhaenyra was married to Laenor, which meant Laenor was Jace’s father, for the Mother only gave babes to people who were married and very much in love.

When Aemond had asked more about it, Aegon rolled his eyes and said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

It was something that was often said to Aemond and Arian, and they did not like it very much. They would have to wait a long time to be older, and they didn’t want to wait.

They also did not like that they were not allowed to play with Jace as they did with Daeron. Rhaenyra said they were “too big.” But when they asked Rhaenyra if she would play with them while Jace was sleeping, she also said no, even though she was definitely big enough. She only ever came to the nursery when Jace was awake and left the moment he fell asleep.

Aemond decided he did not like Rhaenyra.

She had never come to see him, or Aegon, or Helaena, or Aria before Jace was born. Now that she had finally come, she all but ignored them. When they tried to talk to her, she seemed annoyed. Worst of all, he had seen her giving Aria a mean look several times.

His mother did not get along with Rhaenyra very well, so he assumed it was fine not to like her.

However, his father loved Rhaenyra. He came to visit her and her babe often, which would annoy Aemond if it didn’t also mean he got to see his father more.

Since his father was the king, he was very busy and didn’t always have time to see his children in the nursery. But now that the nursery was very full with six children, he made the time, Aemond’s grandsire, who was also the Hand of the King, said.

The king spent most of his time with Jace, but that was probably because Jace was the newest. He still held Daeron, played with Arianwyn and her dragon, complimented Helaena’s insects, admired Aemond's drawings, ruffled Aegon’s hair, and read them all stories from Old Valyria – the fantastical empire where their ancestors were from.

Aemond loved those stories. So did Aria. They tried to memorize them so they could tell them to each other whenever the king wasn’t there. Sometimes, they even acted out some of the stories, with Helaena, Daeron, and several of Aria’s attendants–including her lady’s maid, Brynna, and any number of her twelve guards–as their audience.

Her attendants also told them stories about Aria’s other ancestors, the Bronze Kings. Before there were any Targaryens or Dragons in Westeros, the Bronze Kings ruled over Runestone. One day, Aria would, too.

They didn’t know what Aemond would do. He was a prince, but he wasn’t the heir. There weren’t many stories about second sons. Whenever they asked, they were again told, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” But they never worried for long. There were lots of other exciting things to think about, like when Aemond’s dragon egg would hatch.

Arianwyn looked around the large room with wide eyes. She had never been to this room before, even though she had now been to many different rooms in the Red Keep. At least Aemond was there, so she wasn’t alone. Still, she wished she had been allowed to bring her dragon – which she had named ‘Emrys’ after a recent visit from her cousin, Ser Gerold.

Brynna was also there, but she sat in a chair by the door sewing something, so she couldn’t hold Arianwyn’s hand. Aemond did so happily. She was pretty sure he was also nervous. His eyes were moving all around the room, too. But his face didn’t look afraid.

Aegon was also there, but Arianwyn didn’t find comfort in his presence. Ever since Aegon left the nursery, he became mean. He was never very nice, but Arianwyn never thought he had been mean. He liked to make jokes that were not very funny, but he laughed anyway.

Most of the jokes were about Aemond and how his egg hadn’t hatched. It didn’t make much sense to Arianwyn, as Aegon’s egg hadn’t hatched either. But he had just returned from a trip to Dragonstone – their family’s other castle – with a hatchling from a different egg. He named it Sunfyre, because it was gold and pink and shiny.

Helaena also went, and though she did not find a dragon from Dragonstone, when she went with their father and Aegon to show Sunfyre the Dragonpit, she met Dreamfyre, who was once ridden by Princess Rhaena, their grandfather’s sister. Helaena and Dreamfyre bonded almost instantly, and the king was very happy.

Aemond and Arianwyn hadn’t been allowed to go along to Dragonstone at all. Arianwyn, because she was too little and already had a dragon, and Aemond, just because he was too little. He had been sad since then, and nothing Arianwyn did seemed to cheer him up for very long.

She squeezed his hand a little, causing him to look at her, his face still empty. “Are you excited?"

At the other end of the table, Aegon scoffed. “There’s nothing to be excited about, trust me.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. The first time she did it, it annoyed Aegon, so now she did it whenever possible. “I’m excited. I want to learn everything!”

The corner of Aemond’s mouth quirked up as if he would smile. But it fell back when Aegon started talking again. “You want to learn ‘everything?’ Perhaps you should become a maester, then.”

His tone was mocking, but Arianwyn considered the possibility. The maesters had the biggest library at the Citadel in Oldtown. Perhaps she should be a master; then, she could read all the stories she wanted. But that would require her to be in Oldtown, which was very far away from Runestone.

“Can I be a maester and Lady of Runestone?” she asked.

It went completely silent. Then, Brynna sighed sadly in the corner, and Aegon started laughing.

Arianwyn’s stomach sank. Had she said something wrong? She looked around, hoping someone else would tell her why Aegon was laughing. But Brynna just looked tired, and her guard for the day, Ser Warren, looked like he was hurting, or maybe had smelled something bad. Either way, his face was all scrunched up.

“Shut up!” Aemond shouted, startling her enough that she clapped her hands over her ears. He glared at his brother, his face reddened and angry. “Don’t laugh at her!”

Aegon kept laughing. Aemond kept shouting. Ser Christor looked like he was about to panic. Brynna abandoned her sewing and ran to calm everyone down, but it didn’t work. Tears started to sting behind Arianwyn’s eyes, so she shut them tight, ducked her chin, and shook her head back and forth. That always made the nightmares go away. Maybe it would make this go away, too.

Suddenly, Aegon’s laughing and Aemond’s shouting stopped. She lifted her hands away from her ears and opened her eyes just enough to see Maester Orwyle entering the room.

“Prince Aegon, perhaps it would be wise to keep your lessons separate from Prince Aemond and Lady Arianwyn’s.” His voice was just as gentle as when he came to the nursery when one of them was sick, but Aegon still scowled at him. “Unless you would prefer to repeat the fundamentals of the curriculum?”

Aegon pushed his chair away from the table so fast it fell over and gave a smile that made Arianwyn nervous. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Ser Christor’s eyes went wide. Brynna gasped and put a hand on her chest. Aegon didn’t acknowledge them before stomping out of the room.

After the door slammed shut, Orwyle sighed. He smiled at Aemond and Arianwyn, but it seemed fake. “I am very excited you two are beginning your lessons; you have always been curious.”

He sat at the table across from them and opened a large, messy book. “Before we begin, do you have any questions about how lessons work?”

Aemond said nothing, pouting, as he often did around Aegon, with his arms crossed.

Arianwyn raised her hand above her head. “Grand Maester, what is a ‘fuck?’”

“Just grab it!”

“It’s too high!”

Arianwyn huffed, crossing her arms as she looked up at Aemond, standing atop a chair trying to reach a large leather-bound book. “Do you want me to try?”

“No!” Aemond’s face reddened. “I can do it. Besides, you’re shorter than me – how could you reach it if I can’t?”

She thought for a moment. If Emrys lived in the Keep, she could have him pry the book out, but he was in the Dragonpit now. Even after three moons, she still woke, expecting to find him tucked against her chest, fast asleep.

But he’d gotten too big to stay in the castle, and Arianwyn had to take him to the Dragonpit. The king and Aemond went with her and helped her with her High Valyrian while she explained to Emrys that he had to stay there now. It didn’t stop him from flying back to the castle for the first fortnight, but he eventually learned to stay in his den.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Maybe I’ll have an idea if I get on the chair.”

Aemond shook his head, his brow set. “No, you could fall.” Before she could get her next argument out, he continued, “I can do it. Watch.”  

He braced one hand on the edge of the shelf while the other just skimmed the spine of the book they were trying to reach, then jumped. Arianwyn called his name, certain he would fall and hurt himself or even destroy the book.

But then, Aemond was again standing steady on the chair, the book in his hands and a happy grin.

“You did it!” The very moment he was off the chair, Arianwyn hugged him tightly. He could not hug her back with the heavy book in his hands, so he just dropped his head on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go read!”

She dragged him back to the table in the small alcove, where they had already set out pen and paper. Once Aemond had set the book down and opened it to the first page, she picked up the pen and got ready to write.

“Before the Andu-Andals came to Westeros, and long before Aegon Targaryen con… conchu… um…”

Arianwyn pointed to the word he struggled with. “Conquered. Remember how he’s called ‘Aegon the Conqueror?’”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I know. Con-kerd. I was just…making sure I was saying it right.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t want to correct him either, so she gave him a smile and nodded for him to continue.

“…before Aegon Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms with his dragons, the lands were inhuh- inhah… inhabee...”

Arianwyn again pointed at the book. “‘In-hah-bih-ted.’ I’ve heard it before but can’t remember what it means. Do you?”

“I…” He slumped, looking pointedly away from her. “No, I don’t.”

They both looked at the book for a moment before Arianwyn handed the pen and paper to Aemond. “Write it down,” she instructed. “In our lessons with Orwyle tomorrow, we can ask him.”

Aemond looked from the book to the paper, then slid the book to her. It made more sense this way, Arianwyn thought. She was better at pronouncing big words, and he was better at writing things down so they would be ‘legible,’ a word Orwyle said but had never really explained.

“In-hah-bih-ted,” Aemond said as he wrote the word down. He whispered the pronunciation a few more times before looking back at Arianwyn. “I’m ready for more.”

She smiled broadly before looking at the page again. “The lands were inhabited by the First Men, who had built mighty kingdoms that…”

When he was younger, Aemond used to look at the Dragonpit from the seat at the nursery window. For hours, he would dream about one day walking through its mighty doors, mounting his own dragon, and finally claiming his birthright as a Targaryen prince.

Now, he had half a mind to tear down those doors himself.

The task would be far easier with the assistance of a dragon, however, which at the age of eight, Aemond still did not have.

Aegon and Helaena did. His bastard nephews did, somehow. Arianwyn did. But Aemond did not.

Still, he was forced to attend lessons with the Dragonkeepers, watching the others and only imagining doing the same with his own dragon. It wasn’t so bad when Aria was with him. Aegon made jokes, but stopped when she snapped back at him. After that, he would target their nephews. Aemond sometimes even laughed with him.

But then, during one lesson, Dreamfyre snapped at the younger dragons as they pranced around her. She did not cause any physical harm, but Vermax refused to leave his den for days, and Sunfyre would splay out on all fours the moment he saw the mighty she-dragon and stay that way until she left.

After that, the Dragonkeepers decided it prudent to separate Dreamfyre from the younger dragons. Not entirely, for she needed to learn to tolerate them before they could all fly together. She would continue to train with only one – Emrys.

It made sense. Emrys annoyed Dreamfyre the least. And when Aegon made Aria mad, the black dragon would often snap at Sunfyre.

So, Aemond was left to face the torment of being a Targaryen without a dragon alone.

Without Aria there to stop him, Aegon redoubled his teasing. Worse still, the bastards figured out that if they followed Aegon’s lead and made their own jokes at Aemond’s expense, he would not make jokes about them.

The Dragonpit, once a source of hope and inspiration, was now Aemond’s hell.

It started with small, simple japes or whispered comments about his lack of a dragon. But over time, it worsened.

The remarks became crueler and, sometimes, included a crudeness that rankled Aemond. “It’s still good practice for you,” Aegon said. “Even without a dragon, you’ll still need to know how to ride whatever beast mother sends you off to marry.”

The jokes evolved past mere verbal mockery. Once, Aegon and his bastard lackeys had an old saddle that one of their ancestors had used brought in. For Aemond to practice his riding stance, they said. But when he took the seat, he found himself sitting atop a pile of dragon dung they had placed in the saddle and concealed with a sheet of burlap.

He never should have trusted them. He knew it.

But he wanted to.

He wanted to practice his riding stance, to finally sit in a dragon’s saddle, even if it was on the ground rather than an actual dragon. He wanted to feel reins in his hand and imagine the wind flowing past him. And a part of him even wanted to be friends with his brother and nephews.

That small, weak part of him was soon thoroughly snuffed out.

Just after his ninth nameday, Aemond was approached by Aegon and their nephews. He’d long since vowed not to trust them, but his brother’s words shot through his defenses like Valyrian steel through armor.

“Let’s go get you a dragon, brother.”

“What?” Aemond’s heart stopped in his chest. Had one of the she-dragons laid a new clutch of eggs, or had one of the eggs in the warming chamber hatched? Perhaps a new wild dragon had been spotted?

“Look, you’ve just celebrated your nameday,” there was something genuine in Aegon’s voice, unbelievable as it was. He set a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, but it didn’t reassure him as much as it unsettled him. “You’re nearly a man. And you’ve been training with the Dragonkeepers for so long that you’re more than ready to try and claim a dragon. Unless you’re still waiting on that egg?”

That egg, once a deep blue swirling with purple, green, and silver wisps, had turned to stone years ago. It still waited by the hearth in his chambers, just in case of a miracle. He shook his head.

Aegon smiled and turned toward the dragon dens. “Come on then, let’s go.”

“Do the Dragonkeepers know?”

Lucerys ran up behind them, a half-toothless smile splitting his face. “No! We –”

“We didn’t want to tell them because… well,” Jacaerys stuttered momentarily, and Aemond’s faith wavered.

“They wouldn’t allow it if they knew.” Aegon didn’t look back as he led them down the sloping entrance to the dragon dens. “I can’t understand why. Surely, they know you’re more than ready.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Just imagine the look on their faces when they see you come into the arena on the back of a full-grown dragon!”

And Aria, Aemond thought. She would be thrilled for him. He could picture it perfectly, the gleam of utter glee in her eyes as she smiled as wide as she could. And she would be able to ride Emrys soon, she’d told him. If he claimed an adult dragon, they could fly together.

The fantasy ended the moment the last of the daylight disappeared. That rush of anticipation faded, leaving him with only reluctance and fear.

Not that he had time to act on it before Aegon seized his arm and pointed into the massive passages lit only by distant torches. “Terrax makes his den down there.”

Aemond nearly choked as he named the formidable dragon that had hatched during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign and remained unclaimed since. “You want me to claim Terrax?”

“Yes!” Aegon spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you think you deserve one of the largest and most powerful dragons in the world?”

“I… I suppose so.”

Aegon patted Aemond’s shoulder, then pushed him forward a few steps, sand flying up around him. “Then get on!”

He made no move to follow. Neither did their bastard nephews.

“Are you not coming with me?” The thought of approaching Terrax was daunting enough. To do it alone was nearly unthinkable.

Lucerys opened his mouth, but Jacaerys thumped him before he could say anything. Aegon just held Aemond’s gaze. “We are but must follow behind, so we don’t spook Terrax. Too many unfamiliar scents will put him on edge.”

It made sense, according to everything he’d learned about dragons. Unbonded dragons were especially sensitive to unfamiliar people, it was why novice Dragonkeepers were always accompanied by an elder.

Still, this wasn’t something Aemond wanted to do alone. “But you will be behind me?”

“We will,” Aegon assured, a hint of annoyance entering his voice.

“You swear it?”

“I swear.”

Aemond searched his brother’s face for any hint of deception but found none. Either he had become a more proficient liar, or he was telling the truth. This was his brother, his future king. If he couldn’t trust Aegon, who could he trust?

He could trust Aria. Always. If only she were here, he would be far more confident. And braver – he wouldn’t let her see him afraid. If she were here, he’d march right into Terrax’s den and lay his claim. He remembered the image he’d pictured of her proud face when he told her he’d claimed a dragon and decided he would do anything to make it real.

One step forward. Two. Three.

It was not long before it was so dark that when he looked behind him, he could not see Aegon, Jacaerys, or Lucerys. But knowing they were there was still a comfort, even if he had to walk the shadowed distances between torches.

The dragon dens, at last, came into view. The first few – one on the left, two on the right – were empty. The next one on the left had a massive nest of straw, wood, and sand occupying nearly every crevice of the room.

A low growl echoed through the corridor. Perhaps it was simply a dragon snoring. Maybe one had already scented him. The only way to know for certain was to continue.

As he approached the next den on the right, the growl came again, louder this time. Aemond said a swift prayer before moving closer, as quietly as he could.

He pressed his back to the wall and crept forward, waiting for the den itself to come into view. Waiting to see what lay inside. He reached the threshold and slowly peeked into the den.

A large green eye met his.

Terrax whipped his massive head toward Aemond, letting out a piercing roar.

“Ly.. lykirī! Dohaerās!” Be calm. Serve.

Terrax did not. A glow began in his throat, and heat threatened to overwhelm Aemond.

He was going to burn him.

Aemond ran, stumbling in the sand. He had to get away, get out, escape.

“Aegon!” It was both plea and warning.

No answer came.

“Aegon!”

The heat was growing, growing, growing. A whooshing noise chased him.

“Aegon! Jacaerys! Lucerys! Help!”

The tunnel was bright as day now. Sweat rapidly formed and fell from his brow.

The fire was upon him.

He had one last prayer.

“Aria!”

Aria was waiting in the library when Aemond finally escaped the thorough scoldings he’d received from both Elder Dantis, the leader of the Dragonkeepers, and his mother. “Aemond! Come look what Ser Gerold sent from Runestone!”

He should have been thrilled, should have felt excitement rushing in his veins at the prospect of new books directly from Aria’s home. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even heartened by the fact that she’d waited for him for so long. He felt… nothing.

“Aemond?” As he came closer, she seemed to finally notice his disheveled appearance. The ends of his hair had been burnt away, and soot and sand clung to his clothes. “What happened?”

“I…” He took his seat, keeping his gaze on the blank parchment before him. This was what they always did: sit together while Aria read, and he wrote down new words or questions they had. It was his favorite part of the day.

Why did the prospect now make him want to cry?

He shook his head.

Aria exchanged a glance with her guard – Ser Christor always seemed to be on duty while they were in the library. She moved her chair closer to his. “Lēkia?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her voice always soothed him and made him feel happy and safe. But right now, it seemed to echo Terrax's horrible roaring.

A small, gentle hand came to rest on his. The touch… felt good—soft, safe, and cool.

But then she spoke again. “Please, are you alright?”

Aemond managed a slight nod. Terrax’s fire went above him, so he managed to escape without any burns, but his clothes and pride were ravaged. As was his faith in his brothers and nephews.

“Why won’t you say anything?” Damn it all, she was about to cry. He could not stand to hear anyone speaking right now, not even her. Yet he could not stand making her cry, either.

He picked up the quill she’d laid out for him, dipping it carelessly into the inkwell. He wrote, “I am well, but I really badly don’t feel like talking.”

“Oh…” Aria frowned but nodded. Aemond knew not talking would be hard for her; she always had so much to say. But she was willing to be silent for him. He could have kissed her for it.

She moved the book between them and began to open it before shutting it again, reaching over it, and grabbing Aemond’s parchment. There was little ink left in the quill, but she just managed to squeeze out, “Tap my hand when you want to turn the page.”       

It felt like everyone in the whole world was looking at Arianwyn. It was certainly everyone in her world.

The king and queen. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys. Ser Criston Cole. All her guards from Runestone. The Grand Maester and Orwyle. The other lords of the Small Council. Countless other lords and ladies that Arianwyn had met but did not remember well.

Ser Gerold had arrived only the day before with several lords and ladies from Runestone and their bannermen.

Even Rhaenyra was there, though she didn’t look very happy about it. Ser Laenor was next to her, Jace and Luke in front of them, their dark eyes wide as they looked at Arianwyn and Emrys. She tried not to look at their eyes for too long – it felt rude, considering those eyes were quite the source of gossip.

“Emrys umbā, āeksio.” Elder Dantis motioned toward her now-saddled dragon. “Īlos pradagon?” Emrys is ready, lady. Shall we begin?

“Issa,” Arianwyn replied. She wasn’t quite sure whether she was really ready or not, but she couldn’t disappoint all those who had come to watch her first flight. So, she approached Emrys, stroking the smooth black scales of his snout.

He had grown impressively, now nearly twice as large as the King’s wheelhouse. According to the Dragonkeepers, it was unusual for a dragon to grow this fast away from Dragonstone or Valyria. There was much speculation about why, but Arianwyn didn’t care. She would love him no matter his size, though it did help that he was already large enough to ride.

He grumbled slightly, his icy eyes glancing at the crowd and the scales and spikes along his spine flaring. In many respects, she thought, he was quite like a spoiled cat.

“Hae urnēbosy pōnte daor gaomās,” Arianwyn whispered. Try to act like they aren’t watching us.

His grumbling turned to whining.

“Sepār zūgan,” she admitted, “yn kesir kosti. Īlon kosti gīmin. Ao kostā gīmin.” I’m nervous too, but we can do it. I know we can. I know you can.”

Emrys huffed a warm breath onto Arianwyn, a gesture of affection and conceding, before nudging her toward his side and the ropes that led to the saddle.

He did not like the saddle. That much was evident from the claw marks nearly covering the worn leather and how he would roll over on his back whenever the Dragonkeepers tried to put it on. It always took Arianwyn herself to talk him into letting them. But he was getting better about it. Slightly.

The saddle was not hers. It had been passed down in the family for generations, meant for young dragons who were still growing rapidly. Still, as Arianwyn settled into the ancient, worn leather, she could not help but think it fit her perfectly.

She dared one more glance at the crowd. The king was beaming. The queen looked as though she were about to faint. Ser Gerold and her Runestone guards looked to be somewhere between the two. Rhaenyra wasn’t even looking, though her husband and sons were.

Arianwyn looked last at her cousins. Helaena wore the same dreamy expression she always did, though her lips seemed to be moving slightly. Aegon was harder to read. She had expected him to look at her disdainfully or mockingly, but he didn’t. He looked happy, though it didn’t make much sense.

And Aemond. Her heart ached to look at him. She knew he was happy for her – more than happy, even. But being here today must also cause him such pain, driving home the fact that he still had not claimed a dragon. Guilt stung in her chest. She should have told him she wouldn’t mind if he stayed behind at the Keep.

But then, he smiled. There was still longing in his eyes for his own mount, but he smiled so brightly that Arianwyn soon smiled back, suddenly anxious to show him what she could do. She straightened her posture and grasped the reins.

“Emrys! Sōvēs!”

By the time Emrys again landed in the courtyard of the Dragonpit, he had entirely shed his dislike of his saddle. As he flew over King’s Landing, he had trilled and hooted his delight for all to hear. Arianwyn had as well, shouting and hollering with every move – rising on an air current, diving so low Emrys’ wings skimmed the surface of Blackwater Bay, and pitching around the towers and spires of the Red Keep.

Neither had ever felt so alive. But it was time to return to the ground.

Arianwyn was swarmed the moment she dismounted.

The king reached her first, clapped her on the back, and told her how proud her father would be if he were there. It was meant to be a comfort, but she flinched at the words. If he were there. But he was never there. She was nearly ten years old, but she had never met Prince Daemon, or even received a message from him.

Fortunately, the queen noticed her discomfort and subtly pushed past her husband to embrace her. “You were brilliant, Aria,” Alicent said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Not bad at all.” Aegon, to her surprise, had also approached. He smiled at her. “Might even call it good.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. “How generous of you.”

He smirked. “I’m known to be sincere on rare occasions.”

She didn’t have a chance to snap back at him before she was lifted into the air and spun around. Ser Gerold held her close to his chest, and she swore she heard tears in his voice. “A dragon riding Royce! Who could have ever guessed? Oh, if only your mother could see this.”

“Would she be happy?” Arianwyn was suddenly gripped with fear that her mother would disapprove of her riding Emrys. Perhaps it was too far from Royce tradition for the late Lady of Runestone to tolerate.

Gerold lifted her so she could look directly into his dark gray eyes. “If your mother saw you now…” He really was crying now, but he smiled. “She would be so happy, Aria. She would be so thrilled that she might even ask to ride Emrys herself.”

Never able to resist his smile, Arianwyn smiled back. “Emrys isn’t quite large enough for two right now. But I would take her the moment he was.”

He finally set her down, his eyes flicking away for a moment. “I’m so proud of you, Aria. But I think there’s someone who also wants to say so.” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around.

Aemond was standing precisely where he was when Emrys had taken flight. He held his hands behind his back and looked away when Arianwyn met his gaze.

She had to push through more admirers – her guards, the Small Council, and other adults she couldn’t recall the names of. But they didn’t matter right now.

Yet when she stopped in front of Aemond, she didn’t know what to say. Talking about her flight might make him feel bad, but she so badly wanted to share her joy with him. Impulsively, she threw her arms over his shoulders and hugged him.

After a moment, he hugged her back.

“You’re amazing, Aria,” he whispered.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulders. “You are, too.”

Aemond laughed almost disdainfully. Arianwyn held him tighter. “It’s true! One day, you will have a dragon, and I know you will be the fiercest rider our family has ever seen. Then, we can fly together, you and me.”

He let out a shaking breath but held her tighter, too. She could hear the faint smile in his voice. “You and me, Aria. Forever.”

“Forever.”

Taglist: @heartb8k2 @queenofshinigamis @leptitlu @xxxkat3xxx @malfoycassimalfoy @lokiofasgard12

[pfhwrittes]

have a tradie!141 thing that i wrote straight into my tumblr drafts to feel a rush of adrenaline.

tags/warnings: brief allusions to past transphobia (non explicit), food mention, smoking.

pairing: none

characters: kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley, john price, transmasc!reader.

summary: you're the new guy on site figuring out where you fit with your new work crew Tradie Force 141.

--

"not to be rude, but aren't you a bit old to be an apprentice?"

it's a phrase that's haunted you for the last year on every job site you've ever been on with your previous company. you're aware that you're at least 10 years older than the other apprentices on site at the best of times but there's no easy way to explain why you're such a late bloomer. not that you'll be spilling your guts to any of the blokes you work with. you'd learned that lesson early on.

you won't lie, you're a bit disappointed that even after joining Tradie Force 141 you're still getting asked that question so you flash a tight smile at the handsome plasterer - kyle - and mutter something about being a late bloomer around the mouthful of sandwich you're eating on your break.

"sorry mate, i don't mean it like that. 's just usually our apprentices are a bit younger than you. proper wet behind the ears y'know? can't find the business end of a trowel and all that." kyle explains before taking a slurp out of his mug of tea.

"aye, they're deid keen an' aw. practically jizz their wee pants when they see their first wage packet." johnny adds with a chuckle from where he's sprawled on one of the three uncomfortable chairs around the tiny table. "i know i definitely did when i was 16."

"mate, you still do!" kyle laughs "oi! mind my tea!"

you shake your head as kyle nimbly dodges johnny's poorly thrown empty bottle saving his tea from spilling on the grimy lino of the portakabin price had designated as the break room for the site.

"i'm gonna go see what price wants." you say after you swallow your last bite and chuck your rubbish in the bin next to you.

"aye, nae bother."

"see you in a bit mate."

you step out of the relative cool of the cabin and you pull your hi-vis over your shoulders so you can quite literally follow your nose to search out either price or simon where you know they'll be smoking near the site manager's office.

"reckon the lad needs a proper nickname, ye ken?" you hear johnny say before the door swings shut behind you. you try ignore the way your stomach lurches as you recall some of the more awful nicknames you'd endured before joining this crew as you cross the flattened dirt to join the pair huddled around a sand filled bucket.

"olright?"

simon's the first to greet you as price has his mobile jammed up to his ear and he's scowling at whatever the poor sod at the end of the phone is saying.

you nod in greeting and price rolls his eyes and mouths "twat" before humming briefly to show he's still listening to his phone call. simon offers you his half smoked cigarette and you shake your head to decline.

"suit y'self." simon says with a shrug before taking a last drag and flicking the still lit cigarette into the bucket of butts. "gonna take a slash." he announces before wandering around the corner of the portakabin that houses price's office.

you fiddle on your phone watching kyle's new tiktok he posted on the Tradie Force account while you wait for price to wrap up his phone call. it takes a few minutes before price's voice interrupts your endless scrolling, who knew reading all the thirsty comments would be so entertaining.

"need something?" price asks around a cigarette, his shrewd blue gaze watching as you scuff the toe of your steel toes on the ground.

"just want to know where you want me next." you shrug casually making sure to shove your phone back in the pocket of your trousers.

"is that right?" price sounds amused and you enjoy the way his eyes crinkle briefly before his phone starts ringing again and he groans. "fucks sake. go find simon while i take this, there's a good lad."

you nod at him and tamp down on a grin as you hear him answer with an exasperated "what now?! can't a man have a fucking cigarette in peace?!" as you turn away to start hunting down the resident plumber.

[shiyorin]

I was quite surprised when someone sent me a warhammer request on marshmallow, but here we go.

#Modern au. You are a designer who oftens works from home.

#Just a normal morning with primarchs

#Menu: Imperial Secundus

#I promise it only has romcom

Lion El’Jonson

Lion's eyes fluttered open. The alarm blared, jarring him from a dreamless sleep. He groggily fumbled along the nightstand, groping in vain until his palm struck the clock itself, knocking it to the floor. Finally, blessed silence.

He rolled over with a grunt, hugging the blanket tighter and started to drift back under. But a relentless pounding on his door shattered the tranquil haze.

"Lion!! Wake up!! You told me to wake you up early today!" came your insistent voice from the door.

Ugh, did he say that? Of course, he must have, you never would have disturbed his rest otherwise. Lion pulled the covers over his head, letting out a petulant growl. He'd finally gotten some leave time, intended to sleep it away after months of grueling deployments. But apparently obligation called once more.

There was an important PR ceremony today, some ribbons and handshakes to help soothe the civvie politicians. A necessary, but not how he wished to spend his brief repose. For a treacherous moment, the stubborn soldier considered ignoring your wake-up call.

But no. You would only escalate your reminders, and he cringed at the thought of what inventive method you might employ next time. Best to acquiesce... for now.

Lion threw off the sheets with a resigned sigh and swung his feet to the floor. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded into the bathroom, glaring at the haggard reflection in the mirror. His beard had grown considerably during his absence, an unruly rug framing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheeks.

He grabbed his trimmer and set to taming the wilderness, meticulously shaping it back into a crisp military cut. Freshly groomed, he tugs on the crisp dress uniform laid out the prior evening. Drab olive tones that do nothing for tired but befit the solemn occasion.

One last lingering look in the mirror confirms his stone-faced professionalism. No one would ever suspect the churning sea of doubts and regrets that dwell behind those cold eyes.

With a resigned sigh, he steps out into the living room. Immediately he's greeted by an unexpectedly enticing sight, you lounging on the sofa in minimal loungewear.

You were sprawled on one end of the sofa, some oversize tee and cotton shorts clinging to your languid form. A tablet danced in your delicate fingers, your face a mask of fierce concentration for whatever design you worked on. Lion couldn't help his treacherous eyes from tracing your curves, taking in expanse of naked legs on a sumptuous display.

On impulse, he crept closer behind your perch, locking onto that elegant neck arching so invitingly. He bent low, baring his teeth ever so slightly as a humid breath rolled across your flesh...

"What are you doing?!" 

You flinched bodily, whipping around with wide eyes. Lion recoiled slightly, caught like a schoolboy playing mischief. But your shocked expression melted into an exasperated look as he feigned innocence with lofty indifference.

"Nothing."

Lion cleared his throat.

"You know, you could go outside once in a while. A little sun might be beneficial."

You shot him an icy scowl over the edge of your screen before shrugging elaborately. "I get plenty of Vitamin D, thank you."

He snorted inwardly at the subtle double entendre. Of course you did. Drawing near with an exaggerated sigh, Lion jerked his chin down in clear expectation. You dutifully rose without comment and began smartly knotting his tie, making a few last tidy adjustments before stepping back to appraise your work.

Your bright eyes raked over his crisply-attired form, sparkling with unreadable thoughts before giving a slight nod of approval. "Very handsome. I'm sure they will like it."

"If only..." Lion muttered "I'll be counting the hours until I get cut loose from these."

His gaze subconsciously drifted to the framed awards and photos lining the shelves, stark reminders of his true calling, a life of struggle and valor amidst the echoing guns. And here, he felt like a caged beast, bored, aimless and shackled.

"Speaking of eating..." He turned back to you "What say we go out for a nice steak dinner tonight? I should be done with this whole circus by mid afternoon."

You cocked one shapely eyebrow, unmistakably intrigued. "A prime rib does sound tempting... and you're paying of course?"

"Better than tofu and kale, right?" Lion's eyes crinkled at the corners, indulging his rare playful side. "We could even get a nice bottle of Cabernet to go with it." 

You said with a smirk "Wait... Is this a date, sir?"

A delicate flush colored his cheeks for just a moment as he turned away dismissively. "Well, I'd say it's just dinner."

You chuckled "Alright sir, it's time to go.."

He shot you an incredulous look as you give him a wink.

"As if you're one to lecture anyone on getting out more..." He muttered under his breath once the door clicked shut.

But a smile played across his lips as he grabbed his keys and cover, already counting down the hours himself.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius slowly peels open his eyes as the first rays of dawn filter through the bedroom window.

Despite being a morning person in theory, his body protests at the early hour, muscles tight and eyelids heavy from a restless sleep. He drags himself out of the tangled sheets, padding wearily to the bathroom.

The hot shower does little to shake the lingering weariness. It clings to him like cobwebs as he towels off and slips into a plush silk robe, a small indulgence. He catches a glimpse of himself in the foggy mirror, pausing for a beat. His chiseled features and athletic physique betray no hint of the pain that gnaws at his insides lately.

Pushing those nagging thoughts aside for now, Sanguinius drifts out to the kitchen. He uncorks a deep Cabernet Sauvignon decanter to pour himself a generous glassful. Not exactly the most typical breakfast beverage, but he's long past caring about societal conventions.

When he turns to join you at the dinette table, he's greeted by the sight of his disheveled roommate cradle-hugging a steaming coffee mug. You're barely awake yourself, straggles of hair framing your bleary eyes. Despite your almost comical morning disarray, you're still the most gorgeous thing Sanguinius has ever seen.

Instinctively he opens his arms for an embrace, a silent good morning routine. You merely stare at him through slitted lids before downing the last of your coffee. Then, with neither word nor warning, you thrust the empty cup into his hands and turn to go.

Sanguinius is left bemused for only a heartbeat before chuckling softly. He rinses the mug out, refilling it with the last of the coffee and offering the fresh cup which you accept with a grateful nod. You vanish into the living room, curled up on the sofa mere moments later. Your bright LED monitor casts a blue glow across those striking, angular features, already immersed in rendering textures for another character model no doubt.

Padding over, Sanguinius gingerly retrieves his portfolio from beside the armchair. He sinks back into the plush cushions, leafing through page after page of Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces. Yet he can't seem to focus on the brushwork or chiaroscuro artistry today.

He finds his gaze drifting from the pages time and again, stealing glances at the beauty, studying the delicate shape of your lips, the color of your eyes, the effortless fluidity with which your graceful fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Don't stare at your phone and eat at the same time," He chides warmly as you start scrolling through work emails with one hand. "You'll choke."

"Fair point, from the man sipping wine at 7 AM."

You arches one shapely eyebrow but doesn't deign to reply further. Sanguinius drains his own goblet and rises to clean up. He takes his time, puttering about the loft tidying this and straightening that, all while keeping you in his sights through stolen glimpses.

Once finished with his little chores, he finds himself drifting over to your place without even thinking about it. You don't seem to notice or mind as he leans over the back of the sofa, studying your latest creation in-progress.

"Impressive," Sanguinius murmurs, genuinely awestruck by the master-level craftsmanship. "Truly remarkable."

You pause for a beat, gracing him with the faintest of smiles before turning back to the grindstone, lost in your creative zone once again. He remains looming over you for a long moment, close enough to catch the faint scent of your hair's jasmine essence and feel the soft warmth of your body heat.

Then, finally, Sanguinius straightens up with a heavy, wistful sigh. He pads across to collect his folio and jacket from the armchair.

"Well then, I should get going. I've got a gallery walk-through this afternoon for the new exhibition."

On impulse he leans down, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight embrace from behind. You stiffens for the briefest heartbeat before your body seems to melt and settle into him. He nuzzles his nose into your fragrant tresses for one fleeting, delicious breath.

"I'll see you this evening."

*****

Sanguinius sighs heavily, doing his best to focus on the massive abstract canvases arrayed before him. But despite the confrontational slashes of color and impassioned brush strokes, his mind keeps wandering.

Wandering to thoughts of your legs and hair as wild and as unkempt as the paintings themselves. To the smirking cupid's bow of full lips perpetually pursed in sardonic amusement at his romanticized notions.

A shiver runs down Sanguinius' spine as he recalls their very first encounter in vivid detail...

Perhaps today he might finally dare to put brush to canvas, crafting the masterpiece that's been swirling in his mind for months now. 

It may very well be the only art that truly matters in this life.

Roboute Guilliman

The pre-dawn stillness hung heavy over the apartment as Roboute Guilliman stirred awake. His body clock was precisely punctual, never requiring an alarm. But it had become a morning ritual nonetheless.

Rolling over, he lay motionless in the darkness, his soft breathing was the only sound. Exactly four minutes before the jarring beep of the alarm was due, Guilliman's hand shot out and silenced it. 

With a quiet sigh, the politician slipped from the bedsheets, feet touching down soundlessly on the carpet. As the sheets were tucked with crisp military corners, he pulled the curtain across the bedroom before retreating.

Down the hallway, he rapped his knuckles firmly on your bedroom door in passing. Just a simple courtesy to avoid catching you if you happened to be awake and roaming.

A low grumbling seeped out from behind the door. Apparently his roommate was still very much entombed in slumber at this hour.  

He shook his head with a sigh as he made for the apartment's main living area. You could easily sleep till noon if permitted. But you needed to get on a decent schedule, your deadline for that game company's new character model was rapidly approaching.

Guilliman shrugged into his robe and settled into his daily routine. First a pot of strong coffee set to brew while he goes out to the lobby for the morning paper. The brisk chill of the morning air roused his senses fully. 

As the newscasters on the television in the living room prattled about yesterday's legislative victories and this morning's planned protests, Guilliman flipped through the paper's headlines. A frown creased his brow as his eyes scanned snippets:

*...divisive new social policies expected to be blocked yet again as party ties remain locked in stalemate...*

*...public trust in elected officials is at all time low amidst deluge of corruption scandals...*

He shook his head with a weary sigh. The political realities of governance had proven far more vexing than any military campaign ever faced back in his service days. Compromise and incremental change seemed the agonizing order of the day, no matter how dire the situation.

The timer's shrill beep indicated the coffee was ready. Muscle memory took over as Guilliman retrieved the carafe, split the hot brew into two mugs, then poured in the respective milk and sugars to each's preferred taste.

Almost on cue, a sleep-tousled you shuffled into the dining room with a jaw-cracking yawn. Your silk robe hung open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the matching negligee beneath. 

"Mmmmmorning..." you mumbled groggily, bare feet padding across the linoleum.

Guilliman turned at the exact moment you wrapped your lithe arms around his midsection from behind with a contented sigh. Your cheek nuzzled against the flat planes of his back as he stiffened self-consciously.

"What's for breakfast, hmm?" Your voice was blissfully sleepy, still thick with half-dreams and warmth.

Clearing his throat, Guilliman gestured to the set table with a prim nod. "Belgian waffles and seasonal fresh fruit compote, as requested. With the coffee you prefer."

Your answering hum of delight vibrated through his robe pleasantly. "Love you."

Guilliman felt his face grow warm as you giggled, returning to slather the unappetizing bread-slab with sugary condiments. Best to ignore such needling - especially when you have a point. He couldn't help but spoil you.

… Besides, how many other politicians were roomies with a character model designer? He couldn't be too harsh.

Before he could react further, you released your lingering embrace and flopped bonelessly into your seat. Guilliman blinked, momentarily flushed, before joining you at their customary places across the small table.

They ate in a relaxed quiet broken only by the newscasters' prattling drone. Guilliman couldn't help noticing the elegant,delicate way your lips pursed around each forkful...

A loud slam from their neighbor's door shattered the reverie, making them both jump slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head. "Honestly, can people not control themselves for five minutes..."

You reached over to give his clenched fist a reassuring squeeze. "Any luck with the proposed housing reforms? I saw it was on the docket again this week..."

Swallowing hard, he mustered a tight smile. "Well, progress remains...incremental." His eyes flicked to the  mobs of irate citizens wielding placards and crude banners on television screens. "The special interests dig their heels in deeper every time."

"Just give it time." Your tone was soothing even through your usual wry inflection. You sipped your coffee thoughtfully, ruby lips leaving a perfect imprint on the porcelain mug. "They're going to feel awfully silly someday for not listening to you."

"I certainly hope--"

Guilliman glanced down at the time on his portable cogitator, eyes widening. "Blast! I'd best get moving if I'm on time for the morning session."

He rose swiftly, tucking in his chair and gathering the dishes in one practiced movement as you watched with bemused detachment. Within moments he was already depositing the load in the sonic dishwasher, suit cuffs neatly buttoned. 

At the door, he hesitated with one hand on the knob. Glancing back, Guilliman called over his shoulder, "I may be late this evening. There are deliberations scheduled on--"

"I know, I know." You waved him off with a little smile, one foot tucked under your thigh as you sipped your coffee. "More stuffy old men yelling and accomplishing nothing, as usual."

Lips pursing tightly, Guilliman simply grunted before slipping out into the corridor. Your teasing was affectionate but still stung just a bit.

Carefully straightening the crisp lapels of his suit, Guilliman cleared his throat. "Do try and not bury yourself in laptop too deeply today, yes? Your health is as important as any project deadline."

You waved an airy hand, taking an uncouth slurp of your coffee. "Yeah yeah, mom, I know the drill. Now get going before you're late for all your super important senatorial meetings."

Pausing at the door for one final longing look at that adorably disheveled figure, Guilliman repressed a smile. He truly was a lucky man, even if his roommate could be his pain at times.

As the oaken portal swung closed and his strides carried him off to another long, grueling day of civic responsibilities, the statesman couldn't help but look forward to returning home this evening.