#my finest oc yet

[kiiyome-art]

Light and Shadow Sun and the Moon Torn between Love and Hate

[tetrafy]

[kookslastbutton]

Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | chapter one

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love,

word count: 6.5k+

warnings: oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, body insecurities, fear of being blacklisted, emotionally restrained yoon, unstable parental relationships, conservative parents, rude Hybe executive that should be fired, bestie!tae is wonderful support 🥹, and cute yoon and oc interactions bc yeah....its thier first time actually meeting so it must be cute!

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: YAHHH chapter one!! Ok i apologize if the meeting is so long and drawn out...I really tried to make it fun but so much info is needed too haha. Anyway this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

Winter in Seoul feels like stepping onto the set of your most beloved holiday film.

As the brisk air wraps around you, delicate snowflakes gather atop your head, urging you to cocoon in your finest wool trench coat. Yet, despite the chill, the sight of frost-bitten trees basking in the morning's golden rays offers a source of warmth and delight. Perhaps the most radiant tree of them all is the towering Christmas tree that sits proudly in the heart of the city. Adorned with shimmering red and gold baubles, the giant evergreen catches the eye of every person that walks by–both tourists and locals alike.

Nearby shopping malls buzz with holiday fervor too as shoppers scour for treasures, couples engage in friendly competition to find the ultimate gift, and children line up to take their picture with Santa. But the best part is when night falls. The whole city comes alive with joy and laughter as loved ones meet one another on the ice-skating rinks, while karaoke bars echo tipsy renditions of timeless songs sung by overworked professionals, each with a bottle of soju in hand.

Yes, Seoul is a place for making memories and you’re in the thick of it.

Having been in the city for three years, one might assume you’ve become well accustomed to the energy of the season. You've really grown to love it here. But adjusting to the new environment is still proving to be a challenge, the most outstanding being the prevailing beauty standards.

Massive billboards featuring stunning models serve as constant reminders of the type of beauty one should aim to achieve as you commute to work. Impossible to miss are the shining examples themselves – iconic k-pop groups Seventeen, Red Velvet, EXO, BlackPink, Mamamoo, TXT, and of course BTS plastered on the side of every flat surface imaginable. You’re not exactly complaining about that aspect as you’ve helped design a good handful of them as a top marketing and advertising professional. But the strict image of what constitutes a beautiful and worthy individual weighs on you more than you’d like.

While a conventional body type isn’t what you’ve been given in this life, you don’t consider yourself to be completely unattractive either. Having high cheekbones, a strong jawline, striking light brown eyes, good enough ass, and a full chest shouldn’t classify as undesirable. Still, you wish you’d adopt this more body positive mindset rather than your current overthinking one. It’s easier said than done, being that you not only see idols everyday on the streets in digital form but at work as well.

You continue further into city until a set of tall, glass doors meet you mere steps away. You tilt your head back to catch the name of the skyscraper before nearing the building’s sturdy, silver handle.

BigHit Music.

Feeling its cool metal under your fingertips, the door swings open with an easier pull than imagined to welcome you into the bustling lobby. You feel a rush of confidence return to you upon entering– this is your domain, this is where you truly shine.

“Did you get the files I sent to you?”

The woman nods her head in affirmation while sweeping a few pieces of her long, silky hair behind an ear. To strangers, she appears to look about 24 which is only four years younger than yourself but nonetheless she’s the same age as you. Hei-Ran is her name, meaning “graceful orchid” according to Korean translation.

Hei-ran is one of Hybe’s newest hires and based on her experience, a near perfect fit to being South Korean boy group Tomorrow X Together’s new marketing manager. Until about three months ago, this had been your job.

You never imagined giving up the position after three years of working in the role. But with December right around the corner Hybe had other plans for you.

"Graduated summa cum laude with a bachelors degree in BTech in Electrical and Electronics Engineering and a MBA in Marketing from NYU Stern. You worked two years as a brand manager for U.S record label Atlantic Records immediately after graduating, and are now working at BigHit Music as a marketing manager for TXT including liaison with their global marketing team.”

You recall Bang PD's voice vibrate in the back of your mind from mid-August. You thought you were called into his office to discuss details of TXT’s latest promo, so having your resume read back to you was a sweeping curve ball. Your determination must have far exceeded the heaviness you felt in your chest because before you knew it you, you were shaking hands with your boss in acceptance of your role – the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour.

The tedious knot that’s formed in the nape of your neck reminds you that as surreal as the situation might be, it’s undeniably real.

Months spent drafting a comprehensive marketing proposal for D-Day; often until the wee hours of the night, inevitably takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors. An entire new team of fifty people, all of who you’ll be in charge of orchestrating for the next eight months, doesn’t provide much to relief either.

You’re excited nevertheless. Working with one of the most respected artists in the music industry is an opportunity you couldn’t let slip by, especially since the album’s rock-inspired genre aligns closely with your own music taste.

“Thank you so much for helping me get settled __,” Hei-ran’s gentle voice returns you to the present. “I appreciate the time you’ve taken these last few months to train me despite the tight deadlines you have.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “It’s no problem at all and if there’s anything you need in the future, feel free to give me a call or stop by my office.”

“On the 16th floor right?”

“1656A. Take a left off the elevator and walk to the end of the first hallway. The door on the right is mine.”

Referring to any room on the 16th floor as your own is something you don’t take lightly. For one the offices are double the size of any other office spaces in the building. Yours in particular has a giant skyscraper window draped with heavy white curtains. Secondly, the floor above is the 17th floor which is exclusive to Hybe artists only.

"How's the proposal coming along, by the way?" Her curiosity is palpable, genuine in its nature. You’ve always appreciated that in an individual.

“It’s done,” you respond. “Only thing left to do is to prepare for our meeting with C-suite executives next Monday. It’s nearly perfect as is, but the presentation could use a bit of refining in terms of organization.”

Hei-ran is silent for a moment longer than usual before her next inquiry, which is undoubtedly the question on both of your minds. “I can't help but wonder what it'll be like to meet him for the first time,” she muses.

You don’t bother asking for clarification on who the “him” is; you’re already well aware that it’s Min Yoongi. The same subject has managed to intrude your own thoughts more and more as the date of meeting him draws closer. It's peculiar honestly, considering you’ve encountered him before.

Granted, it was only a small handful of times the hallway, both heading in opposite directions. Min Yoongi typically greeted you with a hoarse 'Good Morning' those instances, along with a curt nod of his head. You would nod back with a brief 'Morning' yourself. Deep down you feel he'd make a quality friend, though it's only a premonition. It’s not like you actually know much about him beyond those small exchanges.

"I'm not sure what to expect, honestly," you admit. "I imagine it'll be similar to previous professional collaborations—composed, focused, and intense. D-Day is poised to become a global sensation for the next year, so it's going to need our full, undivided attention."

Hei-ran gives a knowing nod. “Good luck __,” she wishes you well as you head towards the elevator doors. Breaks over, back to work.

After another late-night prep session for Monday’s D-Day proposal, you trudge through your apartment door well past 8:30 pm with an empty stomach and a throbbing headache. Good news is that your graphic design team seems to be well on track with their album mockups ready to present.

The same can’t be said for your U.S. promo team however, who required additional guidance on their projects. The social media team was in a similar boat. Somehow several of their members lost track of time and were convinced the proposal was still two weeks away.

Despite the hiccups, you managed to tie up the loose ends, but it meant that none of you got to leave early.

When you finally get to curl up in your fluffy sofa, a loud, exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Your lids flutter shut too as you rest your head against the soft cushion. Silently, you make one last mental rundown of all the tasks you checked off today.

Did you miss anything?

D-Day is the most crucial project you’ve ever taken charge of—you need it to be flawless.

When nothing pressing comes to mind, you grab the tv remote from your dark oak coffee table and aimlessly flip through the channels. You’ll unwind for an hour and then call it a night.

Ten minutes into an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and the light chime of your phone's notification bell catches your ear.

Tae 💚: Haven’t heard from you all day. Everything alright?

Taehyung, your best friend. You smile fondly at his message as your thumbs hover over the reply button. He's always checking in on you. You and Taehyung have been friends ever since you first moved to Seoul and started working at Hybe. You didn't expect your friendship to become this strong, but both of you are sociable individuals, which led to discovering several unexpected commonalities. One of those is a shared love for jazz, which has been one of your all-time favorite genres for as long as you can remember.

You: yeah, I’m good. Just tired. Been working on D-Day's proposal for months and finally got it fully prepped for.

Tae 💚: Well, that's amazing news! You feel good about it?

You: I don't know. I’m definitely ready for this project but I’m also starting to feel a little burned out. The proposal is only the beginning you know, and it's already taking the wind out of me.

Tae 💚: Sorry to hear that 😞 I'm sure it must be draining, but I also know this is your territory. No one is more fit to head this project than you. Everyone thinks so. How about you take the weekend to rest?

You: Yeah...I'm watching B99 rn

Tae 💚: B99?! Without me?

You can't help but giggle. Somehow over the course of three years you've roped your best friend into becoming obsessed with your mindless sitcoms. You've done more than a handful of binge watching together, until all hours of the night.

You: Wanna come over for an hour?

The company might be nice.

Tae 💚: Be there in 20 🏃

Your door bells rings exactly twenty minutes after you and Taehyng finish exchanging texts. He's so prompt it scares you sometimes.

“Hey.” His deep, baritone voice greets you first, along with a friendly hug. Taehyung slips his snow covered boots off upon entering your apartment and hangs his wool jacket on your coat rack. His limited edition Gucci scarf is next. Taehyung loves the winter as it’s the time he can wear his most luxurious clothes.

“What’s this?” You peak inside a brown paper bag that Taehyung has conveniently set on your kitchen countertop. He flashes you a playful grin and gestures you to open it. Naturally, you're suspicious but it all washes away when a new, unopened bottle of whiskey presents itself. “Oh my god, you didn’t!" You swat his arm in a rush of excitement.

“I had to!" Taehyung opens a kitchen cupboard and grabs a glass from the top shelf. He's been in your apartment enough times that he’s grown comfortable with your place. That and he's also your best friend.

"With all the recent events you've had going on, I think it calls for a celebration." Taehyung expertly pours you a glass of the smooth, rich liquor and offers it to you.

“Thank you, Tae," you say, taking the glass from his hand. "Come sit down. Jake's about to sing I Want It That Way with the police lineup.” Taehyung pours himself a glass of Pinot Noir and follows your lead.

After about forty minutes of sitcoms and booze with your best friend you begin to feel yourself relaxing. Whatever challenges lies ahead, you know you'll be able to handle them one whiskey at a time.

All stream of thought is interrupted when your phone dings off again. It's now half past 9, who on earth is trying to reach you?

Fuck.

You tighten the grip on your phone as soon aa the message appears. Taehyung, previously occupied by the end credit scene, catches the sudden shift in your demeanor and calls your name but he's inaudible to you.

Mom: It’s been almost two weeks since we last heard from you. We know you're busy but your father and I want to know if you’ll be coming home. The holidays are coming up right? Why don't you use some of that time to come see us? There's someone we want you to meet.

"__, who is it?" Taehyung's voice manages to break your intense concentration.

“Just my mom.” You answer briefly, still averting eye contact.

“What’d she say?”

“She wants me to come home for the holidays.” You shut your phone off in an effort to calm yourself.

Unlike Taehyung your relationship with your parents has always been rocky. Expectations are set high from birth and you never see eye to eye. Likely, the only accomplishment that's earned genuine praise from them was when you accepted your initial job proposal with Hybe. A respectable career is only second to health to them after all. Your father was more torn with the news that you’d be moving hundreds of miles away than your mom however, not that you’re surprised.

Of course while having a healthy and respectable career is priority for your parents, there is no mistake that their greatest wish is to see their daughter married. A stable man with ample resources to provide her a secure home and healthy children is preferable.

You love your parents and you'll always be there for them, but you must admit that their traditional outlook is one you can never live up to. They tried setting you up dozens of times before, and tonight's request to have you come home "for the holidays to meet someone” is simply another attempt to marry you off.

Yes, you would like some sort of companionship in your life and you hope if you find it that they’ll approve. But giving your hand in marriage to the first notable suitor isn't your forte. You consider yourself to be an independent woman with a tender heart, and you'd rather be single for the entirety of your life than be forced into another obligation.

Preserving your independence is highly important to you. So no, you draw the line when it comes to relational affairs.

If only you could be firm and repeat all the above to them aloud, rather than within your own head— if only.

“So are you gonna go?"

You don't respond immediately, still weighing out your options. "Not sure," you murmur. "I don't really want to but maybe I should. I haven't gone home to see my parents since last year."

Taehyung recognizes the growing tension in your voice as well as the flushed expression playing on your face. He wishes he could take it all away but instead he moves closer to your side of the sofa and lets you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Why don't you tell them you can't go because of work? There must be a number of things you'll need to get ahead of for Yoongi's album."

"True. But it's too easy, they won't buy that. I have to go."

"What if you say I invited you to celebrate with my family this year? We're going to a nice, cozy cabin a few hours north of here for Christmas."

The offer is temping and you know he means it but it's also not enough.

"No," you reject. "They'll think we're dating and ask to meet you."

"I'll do it!" Taehyung's voice lifts into a more playful tone, earning a soft chuckle from you.

"Very cute Taetae, but no. Neither of us are going to say 'that was a good idea' in the end, trust me. I'll have to make this decision on my own."

Taehyung grimaces slightly at your last choice of words. "I really think you should consider telling them you can't due to a full schedule. We don't get that much time off at the company any way. Don't your parents live at least 7-10 hours away? Come on, spend the holidays with me and the guys. Plus, it'll be my birthday soon. I want you there at my party."

When you look at your best friend to gently scold him for not so sneakily using the guilt tripping technique, he's pouting. Like a baby. Not even you can resist him with that face on.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

"Good," Taehyung chirps and snatches the tv remote to flip through episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. "I want you to be around those closest to you, especially around the holidays. You're my badass best friend who deserves more than some stupid forced marriage to a guy with an unhealthy alpha male complex. Should we top the night off with one more episode by the way?"

You nod and Taehyung hits play on the remote. "Thank you," you coo, feeling a tad better.

The weekend is a blur at best and you’re back at the office before you realize. Of course this is no ordinary work day however, given that today signifies the day you officially start work as D-Day’s marketing director. You’ve been perfecting every detail of the proposal like a madman since the beginning, meticulously obessing over every element. Your new team members must have a pretty eye-opening understanding of what it’ll be like having you as a lead for the next year–you pity them to be honest.

Between your fingers clutches a small tube of lip balm, berry flavored with a faint tint to match. You love chapstick for some odd, inexplainable reason and you felt the need to apply a generous amount of it on your lips for good luck.

“No one’s here yet,” Yi-joon, one of the members of your graphic design team, speaks first upon stepping foot into your assigned conference room. Others hum, unsurprised. Being the ones leading the presentation, you’d be startled if anyone actually arrived beforehand.

A grand mahogany table, seating up to 14 individuals, boasts itself to you in the middle of the room with every chair lined in genuine black leather. Traditional seating arrangements have one chair at the head of the table, but today’s meeting has two, both positioned to face the wide presentation screen at the opposite end.

Undoubtably, they’re reserved for Bang PD and Min Yoongi.

A momentary shiver courses down your spine, yet fades quick when one of your team members asks if anyone's seen the remote to the projector. There’s no time for nerves to be acting up, you remind yourself calmly. Only 15 minutes remain until every C-suite executive in Hybe congregates into the room.

With a composed demeanor, you swiftly gather your thoughts and respond, "Try checking inside the podium. It's likely close by, but if not, we can always power it on manually." You then start delegating tasks to the rest of your team, mentally rehearsing key points of the proposal between each instruction.

Time appears to have vanished in the blink of an eye because in a matter of seconds a gentle breeze slips through the conference door, accompanied by the arrival of several Hybe executives. You offer a polite "good morning," which is briefly reciprocated as they take their respective seats around the conference table.

You count twelve at the table in total, including your own team.

"Sajangnim should be here in about–"

Hybe's Chief Finance Officer doesn't get to finish his sentence when an older gentleman in a freshly pressed suit walks through the door, fully immersed in conversation. The person following close behind him is none other than the man of the hour himself–Min Yoongi, fitted in a clean white dress shirt that's unbuttoned at the collar and sleeves rolled to the elbows. His soft, raven hair falls gently in front of his eyes, framing his face a little too well.

Unexpectedly, both your gazes shift from Bang PD and onto one another. His dark, intense eyes pierce through you as they observe you from the opposite side of the room. You're certain he recognizes you from your previous shared encounters, though you don't have the slightest clue what he's thinking. Min Yoongi has been known to be many things, but an open book isn't one of them.

He then walks in your direction until he's directly toe to toe with you for the very first time. Completely against your wishes, you feel all the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You've never officially met before.

"It's nice to finally meet you __-nim. Those nods we give each other in the hallway hardly count as a proper introduction." He extends a hand to you, offering you a sturdy handshake which you accept.

"Absolutely, it's a pleasure to meet you as well Min PD-nim," you say, smiling warmly. "I'm looking forward to working with you on your new album. I truly appreciate the opportunity."

For a split second, Yoongi allows his professional demeanor drop. "I should be the one thanking you. You'll be the one leading this whole operation right? So I'll be in your care."

You want to respond with gratitude, but you're not given the chance due to an authoritative voice speaking up from behind.

"Min PD-nim," Hybe's Vice President calls out to the man in front of you, requesting his attention.

Yoongi is hesitant to leave you mid-conversation but you assure him that it's alright. "Please, feel free to take a seat," you offer. "The presentations will begin soon."

A small, subtle smile graces Yoongi's lips before he turns around to take his seat beside Bang PD at the head of the table. He engages in small talk with Hybe's Vice President who's conveniently seated across from him. Yet despite their conversation, he's only half focused; his eyes repeatedly wandering back to you. At this point, however, you've already stopped looking at him.

"Good morning, all," you address the room when the time comes to commence the meeting. "We'll be getting started now that everyone's here. I'm sending down samples of the album design our graphics team has created for D-Day. Please pass them along." You hand the stack of copies to Hybe's Chief Technology Officer who smiles courteously.

"On behalf of my team and me, I want to thank you for joining us today to discuss our marketing strategy for Min PD-nim's upcoming D-Day album. Our agenda will be as follows," you guide everyone's attention to the presentation board, which provides a rundown of all the points you plan to cover for the remainder of the meeting.

"Let's begin with introductions. My name is ___ ___, I hold a Bachelor's degree in Electrical and Electronics Engineering from NYU Stern, as well as an MBA in Marketing. Over the past five years, I've worked in the music industry as a marketing manager. Three of those years were spent here at Hybe. The recent promotional campaign for TXT's The Chaos Chapter was lead by my previous team and me, resulting in a positive return on investment. Now, with a new team, I aim to achieve similar success with Min PD-nim's D-Day album."

Once you finish your introduction, you introduce each member of your team. This is soon followed by a brief introduction from each c-suite executive.

The whole room falls silent when you begin diving into the bulk of the proposal; every measurable objective, goal, and market analysis is shared for D-Day. When it comes time to present the brand guide and album design, you invite your graphics team to speak.

"You'll notice that we have two versions of Min PD-nim's albums on the sheet in front of you," Yi-joon refers to the mockups you handed out earlier. A few executives nod quietly as they study the proposed album packaging while Yoongi leans over to Bang PD. He's whispering something but you're far to distant away to hear. His expressions aren't telling either.

Does he like it? Does he not? You don't know.

Nevertheless, you give a subtle smile to Yi-joon as encouragement to continue.

 "We've opted for a sleek, pitch-black design for the first version, and a dusty brown for the second. The first version symbolizes the past, characterized by societal expectations and internal struggles, while the second represents the present and future, conveying a message of liberation. To complement these themes, we've selected a bold and daring font to exude the album's transparency. This design consistency extends to the album's contents; for instance, lyrical cards will reflect the respective color and style of the version they belong to."

Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer appears to be in approval with the entirety of the plan so far, yet it's short lived when a low voice interrupts.

"I think the vision of album's design aligns closely with mine, so I like what I see in front of me." Yoongi pauses and places the mockup on the table. "There's one aspect that I'd like to discuss in hopes of some insight however. I've been mauling over it for a while now."

"I'll do my best to–" Hybe's Chief Marketing Officer opens his mouth to respond yet closes it immediately when he notices Yoongi's gaze sharply shifts to you. It's a signal that it's your insight he specifically requests.

"Please go on," you reply.

"Regarding the name under which the album should be released, should it be 'Agust D' or 'Suga'? I'm personally biased towards Agust D because it holds more weight for me. It's close to my heart and the stories I have to tell as Agust D are heavier than those of Suga, right? The D even stands for Daegu, my hometown where I grew up and where my parents still live. Suga on the other hand is my stage name, which I have some identity in as well."

You don't answer immediately, preferring to carefully process everything he's said. Your team has already proposed to release the album under 'Agust D', yet he makes a valid point that 'Suga' is also a part of him.

"I understand that releasing the album under 'Suga' has its merit. However, I still support the original idea of releasing it under 'Agust D'. As you've mentioned, the name carries a deeper meaning, evoking memories, emotions, trials, and tribulations. I'd also like to emphasize that by releasing D-Day under 'Agust D', you can showcase who the real Agust D is. The collaboration with IU in People Pt. 2 already has you one step in that door."

Like you, Yoongi considers your words cautiously, weighing them in his mind. "Thank you ___-nim," he finally speaks. "Your perspective is reassuring. We'll proceed with releasing the album under 'Agust D'.

Following your short discussion, the graphics team continues presenting their design materials. Minor comments are made by Hybe executives, but Yoongi doesn't comment again until half-way into the social media segment.

"Why do we need to schedule this many Weverse Lives? People might get tired of seeing my face after so many in a row. ARMY will read, 'Min Yoongi started a live' and say to their friends, 'This is the fifth time in a row, is he in love with his own voice or something?'." His joke sparks a light in the room as Bang PD gives a chuckle.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue for you Yoongi," he replies. "Don't you know the strength of your own fanbase?" Bang PD's statement is undeniable. Everyone in the room is well aware of Min Yoongi's international fanbase who willingly stay up all hours of the night just to catch a glimpse of him. In fact, rather than seeing less of him, they hope to receive his live notifications more, as Yoongi isn't as active on Weverse as other idols.

It's clear that compliments like these aren't easy for Yoongi to take though, judging by the flushed look that subtly sweeps over his face. You'd react the same way to be honest.

"If I may Min PD-nim," you speak up, deciding to offer an alternative plan. "Leveraging Weverse Live to help promote D-Day will draw significant international engagement. We know that time differences pose to be a challenge which is why we proposed an increase of live sessions per week. However, we understand that going live this often might be exhausting. Would you consider reducing the frequency to once or twice a week instead?"

"I'm open to once a week but didn't we film the 'Suga: Road to D-Day' documentary for a similar reason? Won't it be too much to add more than two Weverse Lives throughout the entire promotional phase?" Yoongi's challenge is met with an unanimous hum of support from his fellow executives. You'd feel intimidated if you didn't already have a justification mapped out.

"The objective behind releasing 'Suga: Road to D-Day' on Disney+ differs from that of Weverse Lives," you rebuttal confidently. "While the documentary presents a structured behind-the-scenes view of D-Day's development, the Lives focus on building hype among your existing fans who know you well, will spread the word to their peers, and will likely pre-order the album. As you're aware, Lives are more personal and stripped down, allowing your fanbase to feel closer to you."

Thinking of no further objectives, Yoongi, still somewhat unsure, accepts your suggestion. "Once a week will be fine then. While we're still on the topic, do we know when 'Suga: Road to D-Day' is set to release on Disney+?"

"Our digital marketing and promo team will be reviewing the specifics of that soon," you inform. "Right now we have the documentary releasing April 23 of next year. The poster for the film will release a week and a half earlier on the 12th."

Rather than furthering the discussion, Yoongi sends an understanding nod your way which allows the social media team to resume their portion of the proposal. Recording more Weverse Lives than usual remains a pain point for him, but he's willing to move forward if it means connecting with his fanbase.

Alast, after what seems like three hours of social media; followed by financing & budget talk, the last team to present their material takes lead of the meeting.

"We'd like to provide a timeline for D-Day's promo schedule as a way to wrap up today's proposal," So-hyun from your digital marketing and promos team explains. "Promotions will begin April 10, 2023 and will run until April 25th. During this time the album's track list, concept photos, MV Teaser, and official MV will drop. As far as concert schedule, we're proposing April 26-June 24. These dates include U.S, Asia, and Korea Tours."

"We might need to rethink concert dates but for now I'm on onboard." Yoongi remains brief in his interjection, allowing So-hyun to continue.

"As far as other marketing channels, we plan to implement both print and digital methods including billboards, banners, paid search ads, and YouTube. We'd also like to reach out to a variety of magazines like Rolling Stones Magazine for interviews. If we want to extend our global reach even further, we can book a time slot on the Jimmy Fallon Show. Bare in mind that if we go this route, we'll need to decide fairly quick, as slots are in high demand."

You notice Bang PD whispering amongst Yoongi and his Chief Finance Officer when Jimmy Fallon is mentioned. Yoongi seems the least interested. Perhaps he isn't fond of being front and center of talk shows, you guess.

"When will we need a decision for the Jimmy Fallon Show?" Bang PD inquires for the group.

"No later than three weeks from now," So-hyun answers. "It's a tight deadline but it can been done if we get the official go."

Bang PD directs his attention to Yoongi who's chosen to be silent in this conversation. "What do you think, Yoongi? It's your call."

"Maybe," he says, "give me a day or two to think on it."

Another ten minutes of productive overview with your promos team pass and soon, you're standing up to adjourn the meeting. You have to admit that out of all the proposals you've given in your career, this goes right to the top.

Your team was phenomenal today, and despite the the fact that several Hybe executives are biting at the bit to finally go on their lunch break, you feel confident that everyone is leaving on the same page.

"Min PD-nim."

You're ears inevitably pick up the conversation in front of you as you make your way out of the conference room. Yoongi and his Chief Financial Officer are running through some quick numbers only a few steps steps ahead, but with everyone simultaneously rushing in the same direction, neither must have realized you were within earshot.

"There's no doubt that she's good at what she does," Hybe's Chief Financial Officer continues. "Still, it's hard to believe that she's only 27 or 28. A person should take better care of themselves don't you agree? Like our Eunchae for example."

If there was a way to erase what you just heard, you'd do so, because in an instant, all previous successes you felt from today's proposal shatters to the ground. You're no stranger to receiving these sorts of comments about your appearance, yet it leaves your confidence fleeting, along with any amount of resilience you've built.

Blinking back the tears that threaten to spill, you exit the conference room the first chance you get. You have no desire to stick around for Yoongi's reply.

Not long after you leave does you phone ring off.

Tae 💚: Hey! How's the meeting going? Still available to get lunch this afternoon? I'm heading to the cafeteria as I type this.

You: It went okay. But I don't think I'll be coming to lunch, just a lot to do. I'm also not that hungry.

You second-guess how convincing your message is, knowing that it's your best friend on the other line. Regardless, it's the only words you can come up with right now. You really do have a lot of work ahead of you though, at least that part is true.

Tae 💚: Are you sure? I was looking forward on hearing how the meeting went! Wasn't there something you had to give me too?

The meaning of the last line suddenly dawns on you as you make your way down the long hallway. How could you forget? You made Taehyung one of his favorite foods to surprise him for lunch; Japchae, a sweet and savory dish of stir-fried glass noodles and vegetables.

You: Right, sorry it slipped from my mind for a second. I'll meet you in the cafeteria to give it to you.

"Why won't you stay and eat with me?" Taehyung devours the homemade Japchae you made for him with delight, a pair of chopsticks clamped in his hand.

"I don't have much of an appetite, Tae."

You've already told him this twice already, clarifying that you'd be heading back to your office once you deliver his food. Evidently, he's not letting you slip away easily.

"Then take a break with me instead, even if it's only for ten minutes." You watch as your best friend swiftly pulls out the chair next to him from under the table, gesturing you to sit. "Tell me what's got you down," he says. "Did Yoongi say something to you? He can be a bit too outspoken with his opinions sometimes."

Feeling defeated, you slide into the chair. "No, the meeting was fine. I'm just overthinking something that happened."

You then proceed to explain what you overheard Hybe's Chief Finance Officer say about you from earlier, that you didn't look healthy enough for your age and using Eunchae as an example. The scowl that appears on Taehyung's face as you retell the incident is unmistakable–he's clearly pissed.

"First of all," Taehyung starts once you finish, jaw clenched. "Eunchae is 17 and is a part of a Korean girl group. She has an entire team dedicated to making sure her appearance is flawless. It's the idol life; trust me, I'm well acquainted with it, so it's not a fair comparison. Secondly, Hybe's CFO is an asshole who I'd replace in a day. I don't want you letting him make you feel insignificant just because you don't conform to his narrow idea of how a woman should look."

You appreciate Taehyung's efforts to cheer you up, though you remain unaffected. Besides, he still isn't aware of Yoongi's involvement since you purposely left that detail out due to their close friendship.

"Yeah, I don't know. We don't have to talk about it anymore." You decide to dismiss the topic entirely and reach for your phone, along with a pair of earbuds bundled in your pocket. "Wanna listen to something?"

Music has always bonded you and Taehyung's friendship, as you've frequently found yourselves fully immersed in timeless songs from King of Leon and Led Zeppelin together. Taehyung nearly accepts the offer to listen with you once again, but then he freezes all movement. An eager grin follows close after.

"Hyung!" His voice echos though the room, earning the attention of Min Yoongi who's just entered the cafeteria. This time, you feel nothing but discomfort when the man looks your way.

"I have some material I need to review from my promo team. I'll text you later, okay?" You leave your best friend no time to reply as you quickly rise from your chair, stick your phone in your pant pocket, and head for the nearest exit. Yoongi attempts to make eye contact with you on your way out, but you avoid it completely.

When he approaches Taehyung, he acknowledges your semi-odd behavior. "I didn't mean to make her leave," he states, joining the younger at the table.

Taehyung offers a light shrug in response. "Don't worry, you didn't. She had other matters to get to. Something with her team members I think."

Yoongi grabs a fresh clementine from a nearby fruit bowl and beings peeling it little by little. "You two must be pretty close if you're having your lunches together."

It's not hard for Taehyung to read between the lines of what his member is insinuating.

"We've been friends for a while," he clarifies. "Just friends, nothing else."

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[cialovesklopp]

une journée a trois ➻ k.mbappe

summary – they had always been two. but now that they were about to be three, they were starting a new journee. the path of parenthood. ah, the joy of pregnancy

pairing – kylian mbappé x amara imani (oc)

warnings – a somewhat detailed description of childbirth, pregnancy, mentions of morning sickness, labor, breastfeeding

word count — 10.1k

author's note – i guess this is my last official chapter for the mon amour series before i am officially starting my trent fic and the first spin off to this series. i will also be taking mon amour to wattpad where i'll add some more social media since here it came a bit short. there will be a lot of redecorating for my fics in the next time. as a heads-up: i don't know anything about childbirth, my entire knowledge is from google so i am very sorry if i got something wrong. hope you enjoy <3

    ( masterlist )

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. she liked to have her life planned out to the finest detail. she wasn’t organized to the smallest but she liked to live her life in a certain order. so this was not supposed to happen now. there was no in-between for her situation. either women were happy or their lives were destroyed right now. and yet she found herself between the two scenarios.

she had been careful. she had put her career first and it had worked in every damn relationship she had ever had (which had not been a lot). she had made it clear that the success of her career was the most important thing and after the whole evan fiasco, she had sworn to herself that no matter how many times she fell in love, she would never lose sight again of her priorities. and it had worked till now.

it was a small mistake that led to her situation now. a moment of a certain emotional weakness that was the reason why she found herself in the bathroom on the floor with her back leaning against the bathtub as she stared into nothing.

kylian had introduced her to a new world of love. one where longing became sometimes too hard and the moment they found each other again, all rational thoughts were thrown out the window. he had shown her what love really felt like and that it was so much more than just endless fights and screaming matches. so… of course she had lost sights of her priorities and acted after her emotions when her heart had missed him too much.

her situation resulted from a sudden stay in the same city. he had been there to play an important match, she had two nights in that same city to tour and overwhelm her fans with her music. it had been three months that they hadn’t seen each other in person so the moment they had known they were at the same place, all sane thoughts had been thrown out the window. they had missed each other too much to even think about anything else than be close again. feel the other again. and now, not even two months later, she found herself on the floor in the bathroom with a stick in her hand. a small piece of plastic that held the weight of the world. two small blue lines that seemed to throw everything out of order. there seemed to be life growing inside of her now.

she wasn’t crying but rather staring into the air. her eyes held no emotion as she held the positive test in her hands. somehow it didn’t seem to set in that she carried life now in her body. that someone was breathing inside her and had their own heartbeat. it appeared surreal to her. the realization that one of her biggest fears had become true.

amara didn’t fear his reaction. that was probably the least of her problems. he had always expressed his desire for children, no matter at which point in his career he would be. he would support her, no matter what. she was the problem.

there had been warnings for this situation. women with so much potential that had been destroyed or ruined because of a child. and it wasn’t just an empty warning. she had seen it with her own eyes. linda, evan’s mother, had been the proof she had needed. a beautiful woman, beautiful and intelligent — a cunning lawyer who was at the peak of her career. but her pregnancy had ruined her and had turned her into a housewife. the vision, evan had always had of her. being pregnant just before she was about to start the second leg of her tour was the most unfortunate moment, this little gift could have come. it threw all plans out of the window.

she absolutely did not want to become one of those women who were at the peak of their career and then got it ruined by an unplanned pregnancy. it was her biggest fear. especially because she was living on the high of it at the moment. everything was going well, — she was breaking record after record — and now everything was about to stop. because she knew she would never bring it over her heart to kill the small human that seemed to be growing in her. it was a part of her now. and she could never take that decision alone.

time passed and she still found herself in the same position, her mind still processing the news. she didn’t notice kylian coming home from training and calling her name. her senses picked up his smell and noticed his presence but her brain felt disconnected to the outside world. her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting and complicated thoughts she just couldn’t work through.

if he was surprised to find her in the bathroom, he didn’t show it. kylian called her name but there was no response except an occasional small hum. the room felt smaller and the atmosphere was uncomfortable with the big news looming over them.

“cherié, tout va bien?” he asked her softly, eyes filled with worry as he kneeled a bit down and remarked how hers seemed to just stare into nowhere with a numb expression in them. she didn’t find the strength in herself to say her fears out. it was paralyzing her from deeply inside and forming a big lump in her throat that prevented her from being vocal. instead she only handed him the positive test, the two lines glowing dimly under the bathroom light. — honey, is everything okay

there was a confused expression on his face that turned into a mix of shock and slight happiness. but any emotion disappeared when he was met with her expression. “this is a surprise,” he said out loud and turned towards her. “are you happy?” his question hung in the air but she couldn’t find an answer.

“i don’t know. i don’t know what i’m going to do.” she admitted, her voice quiet. there was a certain nervousness and fear that underlined her voice, portraying the weight that she carried on her shoulders now. there were so many possibilities and challenges, so many hills and rocks they would have to climb now. she wished she was fearless like all the other women that were over the moon when they got the positive news.

“i was about to leave for a whole year. the second part of my tour is starting in a month. and now i’m…” her throat became dry as the lump became bigger. the words seemed stuck, as if speaking them out would actually make it real. “i’m pregnant.”

she didn’t have to say more for kylian to understand her. that’s just how they were. he seemed to comprehend that she wasn’t mad at the pregnancy. after all, she adored children. she was amazing with them and they both knew they wanted kids. she just feared the impact it could have on her career.

“je ne sais pas quoi faire,” she mumbled under her breath, her lips barely moving. “it wasn’t supposed to happen now. everything was going soo… well, i guess. i don’t want it to end. i don’t want to lose my career.” — i don’t know what to do

he let out a sigh, his back sliding down the wall as he sat down next to her. one hand still held the positive test while the other wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist, pulling her closer to him. “why would this ruin your career? you’re the most successful artist i know. nothing could ruin this now.”

“you’re supposed to say that. but you haven’t seen that pregnancy does to women. i don’t want my career to be ruined, not with the way the world treats women. how am i supposed to be a good mum and a successful woman in the music industry?” she shook her head and put it down on his shoulder, resting it there. she appreciated his efforts to comfort her but he was a man— they would never truly understand a woman’s suffering, no matter how hard they tried.

“we could stay home both if you want that. i take a break from football and i could be home for the both of you,” he suggested and amara looked at him incredulously. it was strange for her how he had accepted it so quickly already, that they were about to be three while she still struggled to comprehend the situation.

she shook her head firmly. “i could never ask you to stop for me. i know how much you love football. it’s your life. this is a me-problem.”

“une grossese n’est pas un probleme d’une personne. tu n'es pas seule. je te promets que rien ne va se gâcher. ta carrière est remarquable est elle le sera toujours. no matter what you do,” he consoled her, pressing soft kisses on her temple. “je t’aime tellement. mais ça, c’est ta decision et tu es la seule avec le choix. soo… are you happy?” — a pregnancy is not a problem of one person. you’re not alone. i promise you, nothing is going to get ruined. your career is remarkable and will be

— i love you so much. but this is your decision and only you can take it.

she shrugged, the unexpected twist in her plans still burning through her mind. she just couldn’t understand how there was a small human being growing inside her now. something that was breathing inside her. even though it felt unreal — and all at once she knew what she was going to do. what she would have to do now. her world would revolve around that little human being now. and she would do everything in her power to love that little baby that was living inside her. even if it the feeling of surrealism would never truly leave her.

maybe her mind should have adapted to it by now but it still felt disconnected to the situation. as if she was living two lives now. they hadn’t told anyone yet, preferring to keep it their little secret for the moment. especially because they still hadn’t settled in on the idea of getting a family addition.

kylian had noticed her struggles. how she couldn’t work around it. he would find her sometimes in front of the mirror, staring at her stomach. and even then it looked like she still hadn’t made her peace with the situation. amara had come up with several excuses why she had been going softer on training and why she avoided her pr for the second leg of the tour so much at the moment. kylian seemed to have calmed her down a bit about the pregnancy but the fears and rocks it would bring still hadn’t been overcome. even more when she still didn’t feel a thorough connection to the baby in her stomach.

the first ultrasound had been their reality check. that whatever they had been dancing around, was actually happening. there was a grateful look in her eyes when kylian grabbed her hand while their doctor applied the cold gel on her. it was terrifying for her to say the least. their nurse was friendly, nice — she must have sensed amara’s nervousness with the way she had been trying to calm the singer down. it had been risky getting an appointment but kylian had made sure to be extra careful. to make sure that nothing would come out to the press. the least she needed right now was for the time that should’ve been the happiest in her life to be without any media presence.

hearing the heartbeat was a sharp reminder that they weren’t alone anymore. the sound appeared to be precise evidence of life within her, the real confirmation for her pregnancy. it was a new experience for them, a new chapter that was starting soon in their lives. the impending parenthood that was installing its way into their life. several emotions were rushing through them as they made contact for the first time with their baby. and yet, despite the huge importance of the moment, amara’s emotions refused to truly correspond to the situation because of a missing connection between her and the baby.

she looked at the ultrasound screens, her eyes specifically fixing the point the doctor had shown them was their baby. she was registering the moment but struggled to find an emotional place for it. and it wasn’t because amara didn’t love the growing human in her body enough. there was no lack of love or commitment. her brain was just going into panic mode and refused to acknowledge the incoming changes. an automatic self-defense response from her mind who thought it needed to protect her. because even if she knew her career was good, it didn’t take away her fear of having all of that ruined.

as the doctor left them to offer them some privacy, there seemed to be just them now and the sound of a heartbeat. amara didn’t have to look at kylian to know that his cheeks were probably hurting from smiling so much. that his eyes were probably a bit teary from hearing the heartbeat of their unborn child. his hand found hers and he subconsciously intertwined them, his mind still clouded by all the emotions running through his body. she smiled at him, happy to know that at least he seemed to be able to form a special memory with the moment. for her, everything still felt surreal.

and the feeling of it did not leave her, not even in the night.

they were in bed, cuddled together under blankets when amara suddenly woke up from a slight movement. she turned a bit to look at kylian but her boyfriend still seemed to sleep peacefully. as she felt it again, amara looked down and found kylian’s hand on her stomach. casually laying there all protectively. and somehow, it was exactly what she needed to realise that it would be okay.

a small smile formed on her face and she put her hand on her stomach too. this was going to happen and she would be prepared for it. she wasn’t sure whether babies could already hear but it was stronger than her. the urge to promise her baby the world.

“i don’t know whether i’m going to be a good mum to you,” she began softly, speaking low to not wake up kylian. “but i can promise you, you’ll be in good hands with your dad.” she chuckled, the thought of kylian playing with a small mini-him or mini-her exciting her. “i’m sorry that you’re stuck with a mum who doesn’t know what she wants. but i’m trying. i’m trying for you… to be the best version of myself that you’ll need.”

they began slowly, the changes. at first barely remarkable and now they were plainly obvious. life seemed to radiate from her. she possessed a kind of positive aura around her that even the blind could see. she had truly grown into the start of her pregnancy as she entered her second trimester.

amara found herself balancing her life before and during her pregnancy. she had to get used now to the fact that her body was adapting for the small human being in her stomach and that it included good and bad changes. she had overcome her struggles with the pregnancy and the lack of emotion she had had towards it. now she suddenly felt overwhelmed but happy. nearly excited to start this new chapter.

she was four months pregnant and with that also came the first differences that made this pregnancy real. that made it more than just a statement on a paper. a small, noticeable bump had formed on her stomach — it wasn’t very big but remarkably enough that it had made them nearly cry when they had seen it. now kylian’s hoodies had become her go-to attire to hide the small curve on her stomach. his sweatshirts engulfed her completely, serving as a comfortable shield for her womb and a cover up. after all, they still hadn’t told anyone and the little human growing in her body was still their secret.

and just as she progressed into her pregnancy, so did the unfortunate changes like morning sickness or strange food cravings. instead of spending her mornings in bed, spooning with her boyfriend, she now found herself hung over the toilet as soon as the sun came up, with kylian holding her hair. he whispered sweet encouragements and gentle circles which was now a habit for them every morning as she finished her first trimester to enter the second. it was exhausting, crucifying even and drained her. the doctor had told them it would stop soon but she found no change. she would just have to endure it.

even worse were the sudden food cravings. eating had already become hard enough with nothing staying in her body but her strange food cravings made it ten times worse. strawberries were her first sacrifice that came with nurturing life followed by sushi and chinese food. now even the slightest smell of take-out food had her running to the toilet. it was hard and what made it even more hard was the fact that she couldn’t ask anyone for advice other than her doctor.

they hadn’t told anyone of the pregnancy. she had canceled the second leg of her tour without any reason other than the “personal reasons” she had stated in her statement. it had been a heart-wrenching decision, stopping to travel around the world and illuminate people with her music but it was necessary. another sacrifice for her new life she was entering. they had left the world — including their own families — in the dark as they chose to live in their small pink bubble, far away from the harsh reality. amara would never admit it but she was glad. grateful that she didn’t have to share what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life with the world. she wanted it to be their private little moment.

pregnancy did not only change the way they lived. it changed them completely. amara knew kylian loved her but he had changed his love language. he had gone from sweet words and giving gifts to affection and touching her constantly. it had started small, with small caresses on her back and intertwining their hands subconsciously to gentle circles drawn on her hands now soft strokes. and most of them were always centered around her stomach. it was his new way of expressing his unconditional love that was now not only directed towards her but also towards the tiny life growing inside her. they had adapted to parenthood together and it made her fall in love even more.

especially when he talked to their small little miracle when he thought she was asleep. it had started as small confessions towards their baby and had turned into full one-sided conversations now. it warmed her heart when she listened to him, heard how he expressed some of his fears — that amara found were completely unreasonable— and talked about how excited he was. no matter which gender their little bundle of joy would have. only they mattered to them, her, him and the small unborn baby. their bubble was complete.

but the couple knew that their bubble would burst soon and they would rather be the ones to do it than an outsider. after spending one month at home, shielded from the outside, she had decided to come out. and her first official appearance was no other place than kylian’s match. her parents had surprised her with a visit and both knew, they couldn’t hide it any longer now. they hadn’t exactly spoken about a way they would announce it but it was clear that they would have to share it with their families now.

along with her parents she was seated in their usual reserved spots for the families of the players, next to them kylian’s parents and his brother with his children. she played with kylian’s nephew, bouncing him on her lap while her mind wandered off to thinking about how it would be in a few months. when she would be cheering him on with their small bundle of joy.

their eyes met and she watched his smile grow bigger as he spotted her with his nephew — no doubt, the same image of her with their baby was running through his mind. again, there was an overwhelming sense of pride and excitement. amara turned to her mother, who had redirected a question towards her, wondering why her daughter was glowing so positively. and all she could do was grin. they would know later.

though later appeared to be very close as their secrecy came to an end with the opening score. he had hit a beautiful goal after dribbling his way through the penalty area and instead of hitting his usual celebration, he went for the ball. there were shocked gasps around her along with a roar of cheer when he ran around with the ball under his shirt and sent a heart her way. everyone instantly put the pieces together — after all there weren’t many possibilities what it could signify — and immediately they all turned towards her.

“don’t tell me…” her mother trailed off in shock and amara nodded, grinning widely.

“surprise,” she exclaimed, a cheeky smile adorning her face. she lifted the sweatshirt a bit and revealed her four-month old belly that she had been hiding for the past month now.

fayza immediately pulled her into a hug, kissing amara’s temple gently. “félicitation ma fille. oh je suis tellement contente.” — congraulation, my daughter. i’m soo happy

one by one, they hugged her, all expressing their felicitations. even the others that were around to support their player on the pitch threw a happy congratulations towards her.

“how far along are you?” her father asked her, pulling his daughter in for another hug.

she smiled into the hug, the feeling of home spreading through her body. “nearly five months now. i finished my first trimester a few weeks ago.”

“now it makes sense why you couldn’t go out with me,” alice realized and amara sent a wink in her direction.

“how could you keep this from us?” her mother asked in a shocked tone, looking at her daughter incredulously. “amaghị m ma m ga-akụ gị maka idobere m ya ka ọ bụ naanị nwee obi ụtọ. ihe a abughi ihe i zonari nne gi ada.” — i don't know whether i'm supposed to hit you for keeping it from me or just be happy. this is not something you hide from your mother.

amara shrugged. “it was our little secret.”

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

amara.imani and k.mbappe

liked by liyah_clark, achrafhakimi and 26.304.752 others

amara.imani secret is finally out. the reason i had to cancel the second leg of my tour. i’ll back soon but in the meantime, baby imani-mbappé is coming

view all 293.753 comments

liyah_clark the audacity to not tell your best friends that we’re becoming aunts

graceywood can’t believe she hid it from us 😔, i think we don’t mean anything to her anymore

amara.imani I APOLOGIZED ALREADY

amara.imani i even told you the gender, what more do you want?

username project mbappe is officially starting

username man really said, i’m starting my own mini-me

psg félicitation a vous deux ❤️💙

equipedefrance félicitation de toute l'équipe de france

username news of the year

antogriezmann félicitation mon frère

sza i can’t waittttt

kipembe3 la bébé de la team va avoir un bébé, trop hâte

paulpogba kyks le daron, qui aurait cru

cynthia_e so excited to become an aunt to this angel

username please say sike

username i don’t wanna lose my (imaginal) wife

username omg now it makes sense why she was always spotted in sweatshirts

kehlani ohh i’m gonna be auntie kehlani soon 🥹

charles_leclerc new member to the amara imani squad

landonorris best news of the week

graceywood auntie grace is ready for her duties

liyah_clark auntie liyah and uncle charles report for duties too

username i’m not even mad anymore she canceled her tour

username fr, i’m too excited for this

achrafhakimi finally. it was so hard keeping it a secret and not telling you i knew

amara.imani how did you know?

achrafhakimi you never decline a glass of red wine

username omg they’re gonna be parents 🥹🥹

tchaga_ felicitations a vous deux. je vous souhaite le meilleur

k.mbappe 🫶🏾

the news had spread like a wildfire and even people who weren’t interested in the football or music industry knew that amara imani was pregnant. their names had been mentioned in every article for three weeks straight, wondering over the gender of the baby and when exactly it could maybe arrive. her phone was now silent everyday to drown out the constant vibrations of notifications. it was spammed with articles and posts mentioning her — everyone had something to say about her pregnancy.

even players she hadn’t ever interacted with had slid into her dms to wish her and kylian well. not to forget the french national team who had called to congratulate them as well. they had instantly launched a group call, to also include those who played overseas and wished their two friends well. everyone bombarded her with questions about the impending arrival of their baby — their new protégé as they liked to call it now. a warm feeling spread through her body as she thought about the way, their baby already had so many uncles that loved their coming bundle and would help them. they were a big family after all.

as she advanced in her pregnancy and her bump grew bigger, kylian also grew more protective around her. he didn’t allow her to lift a finger to do anything around the house anymore except go to pee. he cooked now and send his mother to drop off food when he was busy or away for a game. his chauffeur had now become something like their housekeeper, occasionally checking in on her when she was home alone. kylian had even hired her a personal shopper that would go shopping for her when she didn’t feel like online shopping. he was doing everything to protect her from doing too much.

and amara understood where he was coming from so she couldn’t even be mad at him. after their latest doctor’s appointment, where they had been told that there was a risk of giving birth prematurely, her own fears had reappeared again. they had never truly left her but now they were living in her brain again. her pregnancy had already been complicated with her uterus apparently refusing to grow to give the baby more space. she had been told it was a protective response of her body after a certain kind of trauma she must have endured — a trauma that her body now refused to live again so it took protective measures. she had been ordered two weeks of bed rest and after that, to do the most to go easy on her body. spare it from hard work.

seven months into what should have been the happiest time of her life and she found herself afraid of her own body and what could happen if she gave birth prematurely. she had worked through the fears concerning her career and now she would have to manage the fears of not being ready to give birth.

and adding to that fear that hovered over her now, pregnancy had also become harder for her. what had seemed to be a small curve before now looked like a midsized watermelon shoved into her stomach. the toll on her body became more prominent now — daily ingestions of vitamins, eating twice the amount of what pregnant women usually consumed — measures like that had become routines for her. she had been warned of a complicated pregnancy but none of what she had been told measured up to what she was feeling.

nonetheless, her pregnancy was also marked with good moments, happy moments where both just got ready for parenthood. moments that had put light on the situation they were living in at the moment. painting the room had been a day where they had created lots of memories they cherished. the singer had been visiting friends of hers who had been staying in the city of love and had come home to find kylian with a screwdriver in his hand while achraf was reading him the instructions for the crib.

“you’re supposed to put it like this.”

“i’m doing that. it won’t go in.”

the two hadn’t even noticed her arrival their focus laying purely on the crib. turned out, he had left training early and had dedicated the entire day to constructing the crib and getting the room finished. her heart had grown twice its size that day. there were so many memories they had already created in that room (looking past their messy make-out session because she was feeling horny) and painting the room of their coming bundle of joy was just an addition to that.

the realization of parenthood and their new addition to the family had somehow wriggled into their lives. during her first trimester, she had pushed the thought of pregnancy at the back of her head, hoping to procrastinate everything that concerned it. now she was excited for the arrival of their little bean and was planning each detail as finely as she could. they were navigating their way around it with the new flow of emotions they were experiencing. as she progressed and her bump became bigger, so got the question about the name their unborn child would carry. it was clear to both of them that their baby would not carry a double-name; they held no importance if the only place where they appeared was on official documents. they would settle on a single name their baby would be known through the world.

he had the entire world scream his name and wear it on their shirts to express their support for him, she had people sing her music all over the world and express themselves to it. both names carried big weighs all around the world and no matter which name it got, there would always be expectations that would have to be reached. yet she sensed that it was more important for him — the matter of the name. so they chose mbappé for their last name. but the problem of the forename still linged.

that’s how they found themselves awake in bed at four in the morning with the question of the name preventing them from sleeping (in addition to amara craving for tacos at two in the morning). they were surrounded by baby name books while their phones had websites for baby names open.

“what do we think of kylian mbappe jr?” he proposed jokingly, grinning at her as he stole another of her sweet potato fries.

she rolled her eyes. “of course, why not? and while we’re already at it, why not instantly start project mbappe and put it into the academy instantly after i give birth?”

he held his hands up on surrender. “it was just a suggestion.”

“a stupid one,” a small giggle left her lips as she declines his proposition. she was kind of glad that he wasn’t stressing so much about the pregnancy as much as she was now. one of them needed to be the easy parent and she knew it was just in her nature to be the stricter person.

“what about… malouanne ?” he read out loud from his phone which earned him a pillow thrown his way. “what? it’s a mix of the names marie, louise and anne. fits perfectly if you ask me.”

“as beautiful as the name may sound, do you want our kid to be bullied at school?” amara instantly retorted back, continuing to read in her book to find a name.

that was how they spend the night, searching for names that would fit their little human and create their identity. the question of the name was always a difficult one because somehow nothing seemed to fit. nothing was enough for their baby. they were looking for a name that just screamed their bundle of joy; that upon hearing it would immediately make them think of it.

“should we add a middle name?” he asked her, putting his phone down to look at her. his hand instantly placed itself on her stomach, stroking it gently. “should we give you a middle name,” he asked softly towards the stomach. a smile made its way on his face when he felt a kick at the spot where his hand laid and amara hissed slightly.

“i think we need a middle name,” kylian told her slyly. “our little bean clearly agrees with me.”

“they agrees on everything with you. i swear i have a daddy’s girl in my stomach.”

her boyfriend grinned at her, cradling her stomach. “well, they are their father’s child” his grin widened when he felt a kick again.

she shook her head in disbelief but knew he was right. bidding him goodnight and placing a last small kiss on his lips, she waltzed a bit around to find the perfect position to sleep in. with her belly growing, so did the matter of finding a good position to sleep in but the huge pregnancy pillow that kylian had bought her seemed to help. still it didn’t take away the ordeal of finding the position. she was nearly asleep, her mind already drifting away when kylian finally closed the books and turned off the light. his hand wrapped around her waist to feel closer to her as he got comfortable in bed.

she had nearly missed his suggestion, already dozing off when she heard his voice. it was barely above a whisper but loud enough to hear.

“i think ada would suit her perfectly as a middle name in case it’s a girl. the perfect mix of you. and you said you wanted to honor your mother.”

needless to say that she fell asleep with a smile on her face. one problem less now in what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life.

a sharp pain shot through her body. she had been seated on the couch, excitingly watching kylian play when suddenly all she could focus on was the feeling of agony that spread through her body. she tries to ignore it but it’s stronger than her. her hands immediately go down to hold her bump as she leans forward, pain rushing through her entire body and making it impossible to think. her mind is consumed with the feeling of crucifying agony and she can’t think of anything else.

as quick as it comes, it subsided again and she takes a deep breath, trying to regain her composure— before it starts all over again. her first thoughts are that she’s experiencing preparation labor — the famous braxton hicks, that her doctor had warned her of and that she had been victim to during her seventh month. but this pain felt different. the match had been long forgotten as she found herself on the floor, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. her body felt weak, too heavy for her to carry to even try to sit up. the salty substance of her eyes had already started to stain the white carpet and she was able to taste her tears. her eyes travel around the room, as she looks for her phone and desperation fills her as she sees it on the other side of the room, charging. she tries to get up, to at least manage to crawl to it but another pain prevented her.

her eyes close, too weak to have them open as soft sobs leave her trembling lips. she’s wallowing in pain, hoping that someone will find her; that kylian will come home soon. she had always been afraid of giving birth in bad conditions, especially as she was early and her due date was supposed to be in two weeks. her arms wrapped around her stomach as she tried to comfort herself by whispering sweet encouragements, hoping that they would at least help her calm down a bit. but the pain did not leave her.

she doesn’t know how long she’s suffering in agonizing pain when she suddenly hears the apartment door opening and someone entering. pearls of sweat are running down her forehead as she’s compressed to the floor, her arms hugging her belly close to her. the solitude had amplified her situation, made it worse as fears had taken over her mind; the fear of having to give birth alone. and she couldn’t be mad at kylian. after all, the due date was supposed to be in two weeks and even that was much earlier than expected. she tries to ignore the pain and at least try to lift her head to see who just came in but the waves of pain that stream through her body are stronger. like electric waves rushing through her body and hitting her everywhere.

it’s his driver that gives her a bit of hope again when she hears his voice. he immediately rushed towards her, kneeling down as he took in the scene.

“i don’t… i don’t want to give birth..” she managed to croak out, pain preventing her from speaking clearly. her voice was filled with agony as small sobs left her lips. "je veux kylian.” — i want kylian

there was no hesitation, no time to panic or doubt. she was sobbing as she tried to catch her breath while he swiftly retrieved his phone to dial the emergency services. while his other hand held the phone, the other was softly stroking her back, hoping to transfer some solace to her. a bystander would have interpreted the scene in front of them completely different but right now, it comforted amara. calmed her down knowing she wasn’t going through this alone anymore.

he also called kylian but he soon realized it was of little avail, when his eyes caught the screen where the camera had just zoomed on the french striker. the feeling of desperation now seemed to have caught onto him too as he quickly grabbed amara’s phone to place another urgent call. this time to his brother who had not been selected for the match. their call was not very long, only sharing the most important details. his heart lightened a bit when he saw the sudden substitution of kylian. but the feeling of relief was as quickly gone as it came when his eyes fell on the woman next to him, who seemed to take the pain harder with every second that passed.

staying conscious started to become hard for her. she felt a bit of relief when the medics had finally arrived, instantly carrying her to bring her to the closest hospital. but he was still not there and it freaked her out. she couldn’t give birth alone. not without him. there was chaos around her, several voices as she was rushed into the hospital and yet her brain only focused on one thought: she needed him here. she had been put into a private room to not attire a lot of attention as they were aware of her identity. they had told her she would soon be ready for the next phase of this journey but she didn’t want to start it. not without him so even though her body was killing her, she held onto the pain till he would be there.

they tried to calm her down as her contractions intensified but it was to no avail. she needed him to be there and hold her hand. be her sanctuary to guide her through her fears. every reassurance that was spoken to her didn’t mean anything to her cause they weren’t whispered by his lips. she wanted him and no one else.

kylian had instantly run to the changing rooms to get his things as soon as he had been informed of the news. there was confusion at first, when he suddenly saw his number on the changing boards but the small explanation from his coach was enough to suddenly hug enrique and rush out as quickly as possible.

there was no time to care about any traffic rules. she was more important. they were what mattered now. short messages had been sent to his families to inform them of the situation before he ran into the hospital, looking to support his girlfriend during this important moment. he didn’t care whether he hadn’t parked right or how many speed limits he had crossed, all he wanted was to hold amara’s hand.

from the reception desk he had instantly been taken to her room where he rushed to her and engulfed her into a close hug. he had seen her in so many states before but this was new to him. unknown territory like each time he went to play on an adversary’s side that he had never crossed paths with. his heart hurt as he took in her appearance; her face scrunched together because of the crucifying pain, the sweat pearls that rolled down her face along with her tears and the small sobs that left her trembling lips. amara was truly in pain.

“t’es- tu est la…” she managed to croak out before another sharp flash of pain shot through her, making her scream in agony. — you’re … here

he wiped her tears from her face and pressed a soft kiss onto her cheek, able to taste the salty taste of her tears. his heart broke as he thought about all the time she must have spent here without anyone close to her and in pain. she had always been scared of facing labor alone, just the thought of it made her doubt everything but he had always been able to calm her down. promises had been exchanged when she had longed for the reassurance that no matter what came, he would always be there for her— in this moment. she would never have to go through this alone.

“je suis venu le plus vite possible,” he mumbled, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. hoping that the solace and feeling of warmth the act usually transferred would calm her down a bit. she cried again, this time though she wasn’t sure whether it was due to his presence or the pain that her body had to endure at the moment. — i came as quick as possible

he lifted their intertwined hands to meet his lips and pressed a kiss on it. “je te l’avais promis. je serai là.” — i promised you. i will be there.

she nodded, another contraction hitting her and preventing her from speaking. her body was overwhelmed with emotions; pain, fear. comfort all present in her body. a bit of solace had been found from kylian being there but the feeling disappeared when the doctor came in agan. when she announced that it was showtime and should have to push now. there was no going back, no time to have second thoughts. it was all happening in this instant now.

labor was hard. jolts of pain were shooting through her body in short periods and each time she had to push through them. she didn’t care if the entire hospital heard her screams or whether she was breaking kylian’s entire hand with the amount of force she was squeezing it. she couldn’t see anything except pain. and what her desperate even more was the fact that nothing seemed to change.

the nurses and doctors were telling her that she was doing a fantastic job but she still felt as if she hadn’t even pushed once. as if nothing had changed. no matter how much she pressed.

“you’re doing so well ma belle,” kylian encouraged her as another of her screams pierced through the room. “you’re so close.”

“why doesn’t it feel like this?” she yelled out in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. she was hot, her forehead was sweaty and her body felt weak. she couldn’t push anymore.

“miss, you’re nearly done. we can already see the head,” their doctor tried to motivate her. “we just need two more big pushes.”

her surroundings drowned out as she gathered all the strength that was left in her body to push. everything around her became blurry, colors, shapes, persons. her mind was too tired to make her sight clear and she had no energy left anymore to try to focus.

“we need one last push,” they called out to her as she nearly broke down on the bed.

“i’m tired, ky,” she cried tiredly. her eyes barely open. she looked desperately at him. “it hurts so much. i can’t do it anymore. i just want this to be over but it hurts so much,” her sobs left her body and his heart ached as he listened to her.

“t’es la femme la plus courageuse que je connais. et je vais pas te mentir, je ne sais pas dans quelle douleur tu es. mais je sais que tu es la seule à pouvoir le faire. bientôt on aura notre bébé dans le main. one last push and it’s over, okay?” their eyes mirrored every emotion present in the room. the fatigue but also the exhaustion. pain but also love: there was everything. — you’re the strongest woman i know. and i won't lie to you, i don’t know what the pain you’re in feels like. but i know you’re the only one who can do it. soon we’ll have our baby in our hands.

amara nodded as she took a deep breath to push again. she’s clutching kylian’s hand with every last remaining strength as he continues to encourage her. the pain she’s feeling now was much higher than what she experienced the last five hours. suddenly she feels everything. as if her senses have been amplified. there was a sharp pain accompanied by an agonizing scream and suddenly there's a new voice in the room.

she’s asked to hold her arms out as kylian’s eyes fill with tears and all of sudden she’s holding her baby. their little girl. the joy of their life they’ve been dying to meet.

her eyes are filled with tears as the realization hit her. all the pain is suddenly forgotten, as if it never existed. now her body’s only consumed with happiness. she’s crying hysterically as her baby continues to let out cries. the sign of life. that everything was going well. she didn’t need to look at him to know that he was crying as well.

every of her muscles is feeling exhausted when they take their new child away to do its first medical care. kylian himself wasn’t one to often feel very emotional but when he had been asked to cut the chord that had connected amara and their bundle of joy for nine months. she’s finally here and he suddenly understood the feeling of surrealism that amara had told him about.

after the first checks had been done, their daughter had been placed into her arms again. and somehow she must have had still some liquid in her body as her eyes began to water again when she truly held her daughter for the first time.

“she doesn’t seem like a faith,” amara whispered, holding her daughter who was covered in a soft, fluffy, pink blanket. she had opened her eyes for the first time and again, a few years left her eyes when she stared into her daughter’s beautiful eyes. they had her eye shape but all she saw looking into them was kylian. she had inherited her father’s eyes. the fact that she could reference to kylian as dad now spread a new kind of warmth through her body.

“no. it kinda feels wrong,” he agreed. as he gently trailed a finger over her delicate face, he couldn’t help but fall more in love with the woman in front of him. he had always known that he would always love her, no matter in which reality they found themselves. and he had fallen in love with every one of her versions. and now he found himself falling for her new role. he had fallen deeply for amara in her role as mom. he couldn’t believe he had ever doubted. she was perfect. “what was the second name we chose again?”

“are you talking about anaïs?”

kylian’s smile grew bigger as he continued to stare at his daughter. he had learned the meaning of infinite love with amara but the term of unconditional love. it was this small human that taught him what it meant. what people were talking about when they talked about loving someone unconditionally. “yeah. i think she looks more like an anaïs.”

and looking at her, amara understood. she had stopped crying and was looking at her, as if she was taking in her new surroundings. she had been removed from the safe comfort of her mother’s womb and had now to get used to the outside. “anaïs-ada mbappe. welcome into the world.”

she pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before turning to look at kylian and both smiled. they had done it.

“t’es prête papa?” she asked him teasingly and motioned for him to step closer. “take off your shirt. it’s your time now.” — are you ready papa

she was tired. exhausted. there was fatigue written all over her face and yet her face still wore a smile as she watched kylian take off his shirt to have his first skin-to-skin with their daughter. he gently took anaïs out of her hands and sat down on the bed next to her.

he had her cradled against his chest, the warmth of his chest spreading was a connection between them. an expression of love sacred to only them. their phones were vibrating but they ignored it. only their little family mattered now. “salut ma princesse,” he whispered to her softly as she wrapped her hand around his finger. “moi, je suis ton papa. et je t’aime tellement.” — hello my princess. i’m your dad. and i love so much.

their tiny miracle was held in his warm embrace as time around them seemed to pause. no one else existed in their bubble that shielded them from reality going on outside. it was only them. and somehow, as they held their daughter in their hands, the idea of parenthood didn’t seem so scary anymore. amara fell happily asleep, knowing that they were going to do this chapter together.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

amara.imani and k.mbappe

liked by achrafhakimi, graceywood and 28.763.541 others

k.mbappe bienvenue au monde anaïs mbappé

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it was their first day at home. and with the first day also came the first night and the first cries.

it still felt so unreal to them how they had left their home as two and had come back with another person. their family addition that represented the proof of their love. putting her down for the first time in her room filled the air with a warm atmosphere. there was so much love around them as she placed anaïs in her bed after putting her to sleep. a small light of the nightlight they had bought cast a yellowish glow around the room, revealing a few of the fine details they had put into the room. their eyes did not leave their daughter, they were too much in awe of what they had created.

she’s woken up by anaïs’ soft cries in the night. a quick glance at the small clock next to the bed told her it was just one in the morning. she’s tired and every bone is begging her to stay in bed but her motherly intuition prevents her. turning, she saw kylian still sleeping profoundly next to her as she gets up to calm down their daughter.

“you’re hungry, aren’t you,” she asked her daughter in a gentle tone as she picked the small baby up and sat down with her on an armchair next to the crib. she thanked kylian’s brilliance for having had the idea of installing one next to the crib. “ça va, maman est là. maman va s’occuper de toi,” she soothed anaïs’ cries as she got ready to feed the little human in her arms. — it’s okay, mummy here. mummy is gonna take care of you

just as she had predicted, hunger had been the cause for her awakening as she watched anais latch onto her breasts, hands grabbing onto each side. her cries quickly subsided as the little girl got fed while amara tenderly stroked her cheek. she waited for a bit longer after making sure anais had burped and rocked her little princess back to sleep before joining her own bed again. she couldn’t even find it in herself to be mad at the way kylian was sleeping so profoundly, as if he hadn’t heard her cries. it was her first time experiencing motherly intuition and tending to her responsibilities. she placed a soft peck on his forehead before falling asleep again, her mind drifting away before she had even truly placed down her head on the pillow.

the second time anais woke up, it was kylian who tended to her needs. amara stirred, ready to get up but the french striker tells her to go back to sleep. that she was already exhausted enough and her body needed some rest. after changing her diaper, he instantly took off his shirt before picking up his daughter and putting her close to his chest. immediately her cries stopped when she felt her father’s warmth and comfort as his fingers gently brushed against her head. they stood in the same position for the next thirty minutes before anais fell asleep again, their small bond blossoming through moments like this. amara’s still heavily asleep when he slips back into bed again, wrapping his arm around her waist to find sleep again.

but his sleep didn't last for very long before they heard her cries again. this time though they had managed to find three more hours to sleep with the clock indicating that it was already eight in the morning. amara was about to get up to look after their daughter when kylian grabbed her hand, motioning for her to stay in bed.

“you went last time,” amara muttered tiredly, already looking for her slippers but kylian shook his head.

“go back to sleep cherie,” he interjected, putting a shirt on. “you need it more than me.”

“your holidays are over tomorrow. if anyone needs sleep it’s you.”

he shrugged, standing up and ready to go look after anais. “and you just gave birth a week ago. repose toi un peu,” he convinced her and she nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him. she gave him a last kiss before closing her eyes again, fatigue instantly taking over. she didn’t know what had been the matter this time but since her cries quickly stopped at the sight of her father, she knew he had everything under control, her instincts could relax as she slept a bit more. — get some rest

she woke up to an empty bed the next morning. it’s the feeling of coldness next to her that managed to bring her out of her sleep even though she was still tired. she knows that kylian must be around somewhere with anaïs but she enjoyed staying in bed for the first time since she gave birth. regain all her forces.

there was an instant smile on her face when she saw her daughter in kylian’s hands while walking out their bedroom. her heart grew twice its size when spotted them on the sofa with kylian talking to her and anaïs having her eyes wide open. as if she was understanding or at least trying to follow what her father was telling her.

“regarde qui s’est réveillée,” he said softly to his daughter, noticing amara’s presence. “tu as vu maman?” — look who woke up

— did you see mummy?

“vous êtes trop beau ensemble,” she greeted him with a kiss as she sat down next to him and reached for their daughter. anaïs calmly got comfortable in her mother’s arms, not making much of a fuss as she got ready to eat. — you’re too beautiful together

she had a fond smile adorning her lips, looking at her daughter. this tiny human being that changed their lives around. even though she was only a week old, they could already recognize that she was her father’s photocopy. that she would be his except for the shape of her eyes. the one thing anaïs had inherited from her.

“t’es la femme la plus forte que je connais. je ne sais pas comment t’as fait. comment tu fais…,” he told her completely in awe which made amara chuckle. — you’re the strongest woman i know. i don’t know how you did it, how you do it

“et toi tu es l’homme le plus beau, magnifique de toute cette terre. no one i would rather have than you as the father of my baby. — you’re the most beautiful, amazing man on this earth

“she makes everything better,” kylian chuckled as he got up to prepare breakfast for them.

amara nodded, softly cradling her daughter while she breastfed her. her small little hands were placed firmly (as firm as they could be for a one week old) as she drank the breast milk.

“weird how i’m ready to go to war for someone i’ve practically known a week. and yet she’s the answer to everything.”

he understood that feeling better than anyone. if the world turned around him before, now his world turned around her. he was ready climb mountains, cross jungles or put the world on fire if it was necessary for his daughter’s happiness. he would do anything for her. “i love you two more than anything.”

his eyes held that famous sparkle as he spoke and amara leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. in the span of a week their lives had changed and they had been thrown into the world of parenthood. the one thing no matter how much one studied, there was never the perfect preparation. one would never know how parenthood actually worked out till they were parents. it was a new path to life.

amara and kylian had each other to overcome the hills and rocks that may have been put onto their way. anaïs was the confirmation of what they had always been. a family. their bubble was finished and perfect now. they had everything they needed.

taglist: @lorarri @aechii

[charliehoennam]

gentle giant

Summary: The Solomons enjoy quality family time with their young baby daughter as per request by @j23r23

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of pregnancy and natural childbirth, oc!daughter, hints at smut

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG.

"She can't even play with that yet, Alf. She's too small" you told him when he brought home a large and lavish dollhouse, carried up to your daughter's nursery room by a couple of his men.

"Course she can't now. But, she will someday. Nothing but the best for my little Laura."

You chuckled and shook your head at his excitement, deciding to let him be happy because he genuinely was.

He has never been prouder of anything in his life.

It was needless to say that Alfie wasn't like most fathers of the time. Every day, you woke up feeling blessed and fortunate enough to be his wife.

Now, you are the mother of his child. Of his first born princess that he was already spoiling with all the finest little clothes and toys.

It's been a few months since you'd brought Laura into the world and Alfie's pride radiated as if he'd just learned he was going to be a father. Having expected the high of newfound fatherhood to fade away with late night nappy changes and early morning hungry cries, you were surprised to find that he was still so thrilled about being a father.

Not only was he proud of his little Laura, but he was still amazed beyond comprehension at your body.

During the pregnancy, he constantly marveled at the growing bump in your belly. Alfie was no fool; he understood perfectly well how a woman's body works, yet it was still the greatest miracle to him.

He never stopped calling you a Goddess for having the power to create life.

The birth of your daughter left him complete ecstasy.

Most men, especially in Jewish traditions, it was uncommon for the father to be present in the room for such a thing. But, then again, Alfie was no common man. He was always far from ordinary.

He insisted on being present to watch the miracle himself.

You'd talked about it before and assured him the midwives would take care of you. After all, he had hired the best staff to take care of you before, during and after the pregnancy.

He still continue to insist on being present - as long as you were comfortable with his presence - to watch his beloved daughter come into the world. He would've brought her out of you himself if only he knew how.

You wondered if it might have been instigated by the jealous thought of having a doctor between your legs.

You were more than grateful that he had insisted so strongly because you truly believe that, if it hadn't been for his motivating words and endearing support, you couldn't have done it by yourself.

Alfie had never cried so much in his entire life as he did when he first heard Laura's cries. You knew right away that Laura would have him wrapped around her wrinkly little finger.

And you were right.

It's late evening when Alfie comes home from an exhausting long day of work.

After hanging his hat and coat, he greets his favorite dog and heads off to search for you and his little Laura only to find you naked in the luxurious porcelain tub of your bathroom with your young 6-month-old daughter, sharing a warm bath.

"Well, ain't this a sight for sore eyes, eh?" he smirks from the doorway.

His heart warms as he sees your eyes light up.

"Baths always help her sleep better."

"Can't blame her," he nods unbuttoning his shirt. "Any room for me?"

"There's always room for you."

Of course there is. You hardly get much time to spend with your husband. The absence has him yearning for his family just the same.

He sinks into the opposite side of the tub with a tired groan, raising the water level to your swollen breasts.

"Give 'er here. Give 'er to poppa."

You carefully handed your daughter over to his hands.

Alfie holds her against his naked burly chest, kissing her head and cheeks as he informs her how much he's missed her in the softest tone.

"Daddy's missed you so much, princess. Yes, I have. Barely got see my little angel today. But that's alright, yeah? Poppa's here now, ain't he? You been good for your mother? Behaved yourself?" he questions as if she could respond, taking the small bowl to fill with water before gently pouring it over her back.

You watch leaning back against the porcelain, and admire the vulnerability of the big bad Alfie Solomons.

The word that spread around only spoke how cruel and cunning he was; of the horrors he was capable of and enjoyed inflicting upon those who betrayed him.

Yet, only you know how he could be the complete opposite. This version of him was for your eyes only and, for that, you felt blessed.

With his large hand cupped over Laura's little bare bum, he smiles as he relishes in the sounds of her giggles emitted every time he pours water over her back.

"Yeah, you like that, eh?" Alfie chuckles. "Want another go?"

She squeals happily as he repeats the action, excitedly pulling at his burly chest hair.

He yelps as he tries to unlatch her tiny fingers from his hairs.

"Got the grip of the Devil, don't she?"

"Tell that to my hair. Have to keep it up all the time so she doesn't turn me bald" you smile at him.

She giggles more enthusiastically as she pulls at them again.

"Ow! Laura, I am your father, young lady" he playfully chastises her.

"I think she takes after you."

"How so?"

"She enjoys hurting others."

"No, I enjoy hurting those who deserve it. I done nothing to deserve this" he chuckles at you.

"That's nothing compared to her biting my tits. If you think she's got hands of the Devil, try her teeth."

"They're starting to come in, innit?" he asks gently pulling her chin down to examine the two little white spots on her lower gums. "You never complained when I nibbled on them" he continues shooting a smirking glance at you.

"That was different" you chuckle back.

"I can be gentle" he replies with a wandering gaze at your chest.

"No. They're sore as fuck, Alf. They're off limits tonight."

"They're irresistible, they are. Fucking tripled in size, innit?" he chuckles. "Fucking 'ell, love. God is a cruel bloke, He is."

You laugh shaking your head. Alfie never fails to make you feel like a goddess, despite the worries you had about your changing body. It was exactly uncommon at the time for men to lose interest in their wives after pregnancy.

You'd seen many women go through it and you feared your fate would've been the same.

Thankfully, pregnancy had the opposite effect on Alfie. He was already eager to get started on the second child.

"All I'm saying is Laura will need a sibling when she's older."

Alfie's debating continued even after your shared bath. You're trying your cotton robe closed as he carries Laura into your bedroom where you had laid out her sleeping clothes beforehand.

"You say that all the time."

"Doesn't it make it less true. Besides, the fun part is trying."

Laying Laura down on the bed with a smirk, he stands upright and faces you.

The way he holds your waist has you melting under his touch. You take advantage of the moment to admire his details.

The wrinkles on his forehead, the disheveled light brown locks shining in the warm light of your room, the hairy tuffs that were peeking out from his robe.

You slide your palms up his strong arms until they rest on the back of his neck.

"Alright. I'll put her down for bed and we can have some fun time of our own" you smile sweetly at him.

His plush lips - hidden in his bushy brown beard - spread widely with mischief and excitement, infecting you with arousal as they made their way to press against your own.

You kiss him deliciously, letting his hand rest against your soft cheek. His tongue flicks against your bottom, already begging for entrance. You allow him it.

The kiss is more than enough to fuel the fire already sparked inside, in the depth of your cores. But you're both brought back to reality when Laura tiredly whines and rubs her sleepy eyes, kicking her chubby legs in the air out of frustration.

You part from Alfie's loving hold on you and bend down to scoop Laura up into your arms, assuring her everything is alright in gentle whispers.

Alfie watches how your loving nature is quick to soothe your fussy daugther in admiration. He loves watching you with her. His wife with his daughter in arms. His family.

All the words in every language would never be enough to describe the joy and pride you bring out in him.

Getting Laura to fall asleep is hardly a challenge. She was already tired from the long day and from staying up a bit past her bedtime.

Once you get her warmly dressed for the night, you sit in her nursery's rocking chair to give her one last feed.

She latches onto your nipple quickly, staring up at you with big doey eyes. The mixture of blue and gray remind you of Alfie. Her long lashes flutter as she slowly blinks, suckling for milk as she holds your index finger in her tiny hand.

You hum as you let her drink her fill, hoping to lull her sleep.

She can't resist the building sleep no matter how hard she tries. At this point, she's not even trying to drink anymore. Her eyelids grow heavier with every blink.

Gently tucking your breast back into your robe, you rest Laura's head against your shoulder as you gently pat her back to burp her.

She tries to fuss about having her favorite source of nutrition taken away, but her exhaustion dominates.

It doesn't her long to fall asleep.

Before setting Laura in her crib without stirring her too much, you kiss her head and thank the universe for blessing you such a precious little angel to care for and love.

Walking back to your room, you search Alfie but you find he's no longer there. So, you walk down the hall and the stairs in search of your husband, knowing exactly where to find him.

The office door is open as the light shines, providing the only light in the hallway. As you lean in the doorway, you smile and tap against the wooden door.

"She go down alright or put up a fuss?" Alfie smiles looking up at you from his paperwork.

"No fuss tonight. I think she was really tired." You walk into his office with a smile as you make your way towards him. "Now it's time for the grown-ups to have some fun."

Alfie smirks as his chair spins, watching you struct over to his side. His eyes scan over your frame, drinking in the sight of you as you untie your robe, letting the fabric part and shyly reveal your naked body.

"Unless you'd like to stay down here and work?"

He chuckles as he stands and kisses you tenderly, holding your face in his hands as if you're made of the most delicate and precious glass with his rough fingertips gently propping your chin up to make you face him.

"Love, the only work I've got to do is fucking you until you can't walk."

[wintaerbaer]

things we don't say: the before, drabble 1 (kth)

summary: After a night of drinking, you make some comments to Taehyung that makes him reconsider his relationship with you.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw (for the drabble, series is 18+)

genres: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol use, unrequited love, jungkook isn't physically present in this one yet still manages to throw in some nonsense

a/n: this is the first drabble for my things we don't say series! shoutout to @btsborahaee for asking me if tae had ever taken care of oc while drunk and sparking this entire idea. not mandatory reading for the series per se, but definitely gives a lot of insight for some upcoming events <3 (can probably be read on its own for new folks, but you'll likely be missing some context)

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

He probably should’ve stopped you.

Should’ve stopped you when Jimin offered you tequila shots at the beginning of the night (he knows that you always complain about the crash).

Should’ve stopped you when Jungkook challenged you to a round of beer pong and you surprisingly agreed (Jungkook is an ace, and you’ve always been a lousy shot).

Definitely should’ve stopped you when your friends began a game of truth or dare, and you convinced him to play with puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip (you looked so cute that he pretended he would’ve been able to resist you in the first place just to see you keep making that face).

Still, he tries to remind himself that you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions as he heaves you through the doorway into the three-bedroom apartment the two of you share with Jimin.

“Congratulations, you’ve successfully made it home,” he says, gingerly helping you settle into a spot on the couch. You immediately pull a throw pillow into your lap and hug it tight, slumping against the arm rest. “How are you feeling?”

“We live in a pool now,” you mumble, the pillow muffling your voice.

“What?”

“Everything swimming.”

He laughs, propping the other throw pillow against your side in a feeble attempt to ensure you stay upright before he heads to the kitchen to get you some water. “I know you may not believe me right now, but I can assure you we don’t live in a pool.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Your face has slipped further into the pillow. “I’m a scientist. I know things.”

“You’re majoring in Communications.”

“That’s a science.”

“A social science.”

“I say it counts, so it counts.”

“Well I won’t argue with that.” He makes his way back to you with quiet steps, crouching down so he’s at your eye level. “So, Miss Scientist--” A glass of water appears right in front of your nose. “—what does the science say about water intake after a long night of drinking?”

You giggle, pulling the glass from his hands so you can peer through it at him. “See? Pool.” He can’t hold back the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you snort-laugh over your own joke and cackle, “You’re a merman.”

“Yah,” he protests. “I don’t know that I’m pretty enough to be a merman. Mermen are pretty, yeah?”

And even louder snort. “Tae, you’re plenty pretty.”

His heart rebels with the tiniest pause. “Huh?”

“Plenty pretty. Also alliterative.” You burst out laughing at that one, rocking your body so suddenly that Taehyung worries you might spill your water. He reaches out to stabilize your hand, crushing down the teensy marble of hope that just plopped into his chest—a process that he’s well used to by now.

“You’re not seeing right or thinking right,” he says. “Just focus on drinking your water.”

One final giggle as you bring the glass to your lips, slurping loudly. “Chef Kim, you’ve done it again!” you declare, putting on a fake accent. “This is the finest glass of water I have ever had the pleasure of drinking! Three Michelin Stars!” Then you go back to slurping the water, two hands wrapped around the glass like a child.

Taehyung watches you tenderly, his right hand betraying him and drifting upwards to lightly skim your knee as you drink. Frankly, he’s just pleased that you’re managing to get it all in your mouth, and once you’ve swallowed the last drops (your head tilted all the way back), you gaze at him with hooded eyes.

“I sleepy.”

“I’m sure you are.” He takes the glass from your hands and sets it down on the coffee table before moving the pillows from your lap so he can help you up again, placing a steadying hand at your lower back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your bedroom where you immediately face plant onto the bed with a huff.

“Careful,” he warns. “Don’t want to jolt yourself and make yourself sick.”

“I do not fear vomit,” you say dramatically. “Only when it’s a stranger’s.” You pause to burp. “And only on Sundays.”

“Today is Sunday.”

You flip onto your back with a gasp. “SAY IT ISN’T SO.”

“It’s so.” He nods at you somberly, playing into the bit. “It’s past midnight, which means it is, in fact, Sunday.”

An arm is thrown across your eyes as you groan, "Oh noooooooo."

Taehyung chuckles to himself, rummaging through your dresser until he locates a pair of sleep shorts and a drawer full of t-shirts (he quickly closes another drawer when he catches a glimpse of panties). He picks through them, grinning at how many are souvenirs of events you've been to with him—concerts, festivals, and even a team shirt for a basketball game you'd accompanied him to freshman year. It'd been his idea, wanting to experience more of the city you'd moved to for school; you'd been skeptical at first but willing to go with him so he wasn't alone.

Two minutes in and your enthusiasm had quickly changed. Feeding off the energy of the crowd and the excitement of the game, you spent most of the time on your feet, bouncing up and down and cheering with every basket that was made. And though the game had been his idea, Taehyung found himself far less interested in what was happening on the court and instead spent the evening watching you, smiling from ear-to-ear every time you clapped your hands or yelled in delight. You’d pulled him by the hand to the team store afterwards, insistent on buying a shirt for your newfound team.

He grabs that shirt from the drawer and turns to find you lying in the same position on the bed, still as a stone. Your chest rises and falls with slow steady breaths, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep at first until you peek an eye out at him as he sets the clothes down next to you on the bed.

“Think you can get dressed by yourself?”

You raise yourself onto your palms, throwing him what seems to be your best drunken attempt at a sultry look. “You don’t want to help me?”

Taehyung’s body goes into an instant panic, half of his blood rushing to his face and the other half seeking a straight path south. “You—I—uh—“ he stammers before you burst into hysterical laughter.

“I’m kidding!” you gasp, wrapping your arms around your middle and tilting sideways on the bed as you’re overcome with giggles. “You should see the look on your face!”

He feels the relief work through slowly, even as his heart continues to pound. “You really had a lot to drink tonight, huh?”

“Hmm, a lot,” you hiccup. “Not so much that I missed your look of horror when Kook dared us to kiss.”

It was during the game of truth or dare that you’d roped him into. Rather juvenile for a group of third-year college students, perhaps, but your group had gotten to the point of mindless drunken entertainment. On your turn, you’d asked for a dare, only for Jungkook to challenge you to make out with Taehyung for thirty seconds (“Minimum,” he’d added with a wiggle of his eyebrows). His blood pressure had spiked then too as he glared daggers at Jungkook, praying that you would refuse. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the concept of kissing you per se, but definitely not under those circumstances. And definitely not when you didn’t feel that way about him.

He was flooded with relief when you opted to take a shot instead.

“You looked terrified so I drank,” you say in the present, pushing out your lower lip in a pout. “Would kissing me really have been that bad?”

Yes, he thinks. But for reasons you wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t have survived it.

“Kook was just messing with us. It was a stupid joke, and you knew it. That’s why you drank.”

“I drank because you looked angry,” you press, and Taehyung worries that you’re genuinely hurt by the implied rejection. But that would mean— “We could kiss, and it would be fine. Here, look.” You sit up straight again, closing your eyes and puckering your lips in his direction.

Heat rushes to his face for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “What are you doing?”

“Kiss me.”

He’s shaking his head immediately. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Y/N.” He laughs gently at your pouting face, lifting the clothes again so he can drop them into your lap this time. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk. Like I said, you’re not thinking right. I wouldn’t do that.” He taps your chin, directing your attention down. “Get yourself dressed. I’ll find you a bucket and more water.”

You grumble something he doesn’t understand on his way out of your room, still a little flustered from your conversation. It wasn’t like you to flirt with him. And suggesting he kiss you? No. That definitely must’ve been the alcohol talking. Over a decade’s worth of friendship with you, and it’s never seemed like you’ve even entertained the thought.

Still, he thinks to himself as he grabs you another glass of water before making a stop to the bathroom, could it be that drunk words are sober thoughts? Could this be his sign to try and see if there may be something more lingering under the surface of your friendsh—

He crushes down the idea as it occurs. He’s been through this line of thought before and, as always, knows that no good can come of it. There’s no doubt in his mind that you don’t feel for him like that. And he’ll be damned if he burdens you with his own feelings. It’s his own problem; he’s not going to put that on you to solve.

He retrieves a small pail, make-up wipe, and bottle of painkillers from the bathroom before making his way back to your bedroom. Not only have you changed into your pajamas, but you’ve also crawled into bed, the blanket pulled over your head with you huddled beneath it in a heap.

Taehyung sets down the water and medicine on your side table and places the pail on the floor beside your bed. Nudging at the covers, he says, “Poke your head out. We gotta get your makeup off.”

You roll onto your back, sticking your head out with a groan. “It’s fiiiiine,” you whine. “Jus’ leave it.”

“Your eyes will get irritated. I’ve got it.”

He wipes delicately at your face, a caress hidden in every sweep of his fingers. And once your skin has been wiped clean, he tucks you in properly, curled up on your side so he doesn’t need to worry about you rolling onto your back.

“There’s water and medicine here” he tells you. “And a bucket on the floor in case you need to throw up. Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Okay, if you need anything at all just shout. I’ll leave my door open.”

He’s turning to leave, thinking that’s the end of it when your voice calls out. Tiny.

“Tae?”

His focus is back on you in an instant, crouching down at your side ready to help. “What’s up?”

Your eyes are closed and you hum dreamily, fingers on the bed curling towards him. “You take such good care of me.”

Something wraps around his heart, squeezes. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Mmmm.” You’re halfway asleep, breaths evening out. “You’ll be an incredible dad someday.”

His whole world stops, your words rocking him to his core. Because how do you just lay that on him so suddenly? So casually? One of his greatest fears and insecurities, eased instantly by the sound of your reassurances.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, tears stinging his eyes. But you’re already out, blissfully unaware of the effect you’ve just had on him.

He can’t help but watch you for a few minutes, gaze studiously tracing over your face like he may need to one day draw you from memory. You look so beautiful, so peaceful—every bit the angel he forever sees you as. Unable to help himself, he raises his hand to gently stroke a finger one, two, three times through your hair before tucking it back behind your ear. And something may just have grabbed ahold of him tonight because before he stands back up, he leans in to press the softest kiss to your forehead, lips lingering against your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

He leaves the room quietly, with one last peek over his shoulder at your sleeping form. Crossing the hall, he begins settling into his own bed wrangling a hurricane of thoughts: you, him, how he feels about you, the years you’ve spent together and how he desperately wants them to continue. And, with everything you’ve said tonight, he thinks that maybe—maybe—there wouldn’t be harm in testing the waters to see if you might want something more too. Throw a bit of that flirtatiousness back at you and see what happens.

He falls asleep smiling. Tomorrow is a new day.

The sound of chatter rouses Taehyung from his sleep the next morning as does the smell of bacon. He sits up, groggily runs a hand through his hair, and pads down the hall to find you, Jimin, and Maya sat around the dining room table.

“Oh yay, you’re alive,” Maya teases.

He gives her a quick raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “So it would seem. Why are you here?”

“Alright, going to pretend that was way more enthusiastic and ignore the tone,” she responds, leaning back in her chair. “We’re supposed to go down to the park to work on that project for Dr. Kwon’s class, remember?”

“Ah shit, that’s today.” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away more sleep. “Ok, let me eat and get dressed, and we can go.”

There's a crash in the kitchen, and Jimin, standing at the stove, calls out, "Uhhhh a little help?"

Maya rolls her eyes and stands to assist. "See, this is why we usually leave cooking to the professionals."

Taehyung laughs at their antics. Never a dull moment in this apartment. "Didn't feel like cooking this morning?" he asks, settling into the chair next to you.

You shake your head as you take a sip from the coffee mug in front of you. "No, Jimin wanted to do it. Said he wants to practice so he can impress that girl he's been seeing."

"Ah." He studies your face, suddenly remembering the way you'd asked him to kiss you last night.

"What?"

Your voice startles him out of the memory. "What?"

"You're looking at me funny," you say and take a swipe at one of your cheeks. "Something on my face?"

He's suddenly nervous, second-guessing his plan to test the waters with you. "No. Just wondering how you're feeling. You were...very drunk last night."

You blush. "Yeah, I don't remember much after I took that last shot, and you said it was time to go home." Scratching absent-mindedly behind your ear, you say, "I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing after that."

"No, you were fine," Taehyung says, before quickly rethinking his words. It seems like it's now or never. "Actually, there were a couple things you said that I wanted to ask about."

"Oh no." Your eyes widen. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing bad," he chuckles. "Just that—"

Your phone chimes loudly, and your gaze shoots to it, immediately snatching it into your hand as Maya bolts back over and squeals, “Is that him?!”

“Yes!” you exclaim, eyes roaming across the screen excitedly.

Taehyung licks his lips, caught entirely off-guard by this development. “Who is this?”

“Jace from my Marketing Psych class,” you say quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“He asked her out this morning!” Maya adds with a pointed look at Taehyung that he doesn’t know how to interpret. His stomach twists, chest burns as every hope he’d had of asking you about last night dies on his tongue.

“Okay,” you say, looking up at Maya, completely oblivious to the suffering happening on your right. “Friday at that fancy Italian place on Fifth.” You slap a hand to your forehead. “We need to go shopping!”

“Of course we will!” Maya trills just as you turn back to Taehyung looking mildly apologetic.

“Sorry, Tae. You were saying something?”

He licks his lips again, internally cringing at the bitter taste. “No,” he says. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Your brow creases. “You can always ask me anything.”

“It’s really nothing,” he insists. “I already forgot what it was.”

You’re clearly not convinced but you relent, giving a tiny, “Okay,” as you watch him stand from the table, eyes now directed at Maya.

“Just give me five minutes to get dressed and grab my stuff, and we can go.”

“But you didn’t even eat,” you say.

He glances at you from under his lashes as he backpedals towards his bedroom, heart in his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

It’s a sign from the universe, he thinks. A final killing blow to the hopes that have long lingered inside of him. And at this point, it’s best he accepts it.

You’re just not meant to be.

a/n: part 5 is my next focus, i promise <33 and if anyone would be interested in an ask game, pls let me know! it might help the gears turn faster :)

[ieatcocoa]

A Lasting Impression ♡

Characters: Lucifer/OC/Lilith

Switching POVS

Word count: 3.2k

Important: 18+ minors do not interact. fem dom! Lilith, sub top! Lucifer, fem!reader, threesome, fingering, open relationship, penetrative sex, teasing, oral sex, character uses she/they pronouns.

I made this for a close friend of mine, his OC’s name is Ciel, and she is an overlord in the underworld.

Literally, my first time writing smut…so…

Boarder credits to plutism !

The eternal crimson light radiates above Pentagram City. It illuminates among crumbling sidewalks whose jagged edges are nearly as sharp as a local thief's blade, leaving behind twisted shadows that linger longer than the pungent odor of regret and sex. Dried blood sticks to any available surface, acting as the only reminder of a being's existence after being viciously gored. The light is a terrifying symbol of one's vulnerability to death, where a person's entire being is stripped down to its core and made visible to their true self.

Most hide away as best they can to maintain their sense of seclusion. Stability.

It would be a lie to suggest Ceil is not among them. She has always found solace in the darkness. That is only natural, as it was the first thing she saw when she entered hell. Many assume that when you meet your demise, you are rudely dropped into a flaming inferno and forced to live out the rest of your days as a helpless slave to the man himself. However, after Ciel's final breath and the way the cold air felt against their blue lips, everything became numb. She seemed caught between time and space, followed by an endless nothingness. They imagine it was their punishment to be alone, with only encounters from the depths of her memory bank. But then there came a light, similar to the one she bears witness to before her…

Nestled in the heart of the city's junction, the enormous white and gold estate is a beacon of splendor and charm. Its pristine facade, adorned with intricate golden accents, shimmers under the gentle caress of moonlight, casting a mesmerizing glow that enchants all who behold it. It's almost absurd that something so heavenly is here. As expected, its inhabitants are the embodiment of grace and delicacy.

Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar.

Every sinner knows them, regardless of how recently they have 'dropped.'

Respect is difficult, yet even the meanest brutes can bite their tongues when graced by royalty. Ceil longs for that kind of authority. Talk of the town is like a never-ending telephone game, misconstrued or added on for flare. When others became aware of her presence, there was an unprecedented wave of rumors, specifically in the Pride ring.

That may be why they were invited during their daily tea hour with Rosie. The beautifully sealed envelope exudes an aura of grandeur. Its seal, meticulously stamped with the emblem of the hosting organization, adds an air of exclusivity and importance to the contents within. As they run their fingers along its smooth surface, they can almost feel the excitement radiating from within, promising an evening of elegance.

The king and queen had invited her to their home.

To their party.

To them.

Ciel knew she couldn't pass up this opportunity, which is how she ended up here. Within the walls of the magnificent mansion, the gala unfolds like a scene from a fairy tale. Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft, golden glow over the exquisitely decorated ballroom. Elaborate floral arrangements adorn every corner, their vibrant hues adding to the lavish surroundings.

Guests, fitted in their finest attire, mingle amidst the grandeur, their laughter and conversation filling the air. Servants move gracefully among the crowd, offering trays of decadent hors d'oeuvres and glasses of fine champagne.

At the center of the room, a raised dais hosts a band of talented musicians, their melodies weaving through the crowd with allure. The music swells and dances, carrying with it an irresistible energy that beckons guests to the dance floor.

That’s when she saw them.

The royal pair attracts attention with their elegance and poise. The handsome man with the tousled blonde hair was the first to catch their eye. Despite his stature, his presence fills the room with undeniable charisma. His rosy cheeks hint at his jovial nature, while his piercing eyes sparkle with intelligence.

Beside him is his counterpart, a tall and remarkably gorgeous woman with olive-toned skin that sparkles in the mellow candlelight. Sculpted with refinement, cascading waves of dark hair frame her delicate features.

Together, they epitomize the perfect balance of strength and grace, their union symbolizing harmony and unity within the royal court. As they engage in conversation, their easy rapport and shared laughter illuminate the room, captivating all who have the privilege of beholding them.

Ciel is held hostage by the image of such a delicacy. If she had not been able to feel the gazes of other bystanders, she would have drooled like a starving animal or a dunce.

Amidst the crowd, Lucifer notices the young woman seated alone at a table, her presence a calling to him. He approaches with a stride and a knowing smile on his lips.

As he reaches her table, he offers a drink with a courteous nod. She meets his eyes with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, her demeanor guarded yet intrigued by his attention.

“Hello there, a drink?” The champagne in his hand sparkles tauntingly as Ciel takes hold, giving it a small taste. “Why thank you.”

Lucifer takes a seat beside them, manuring ever so gracefully that his pristine tailcoat tucks perfectly underneath him. “Are you that new face I’ve heard so much about? I must say, you are much less intimidating in person.” The mild jazz playing in the background does not drown out his voice.

"Mm, it seems I am; my name is Ciel. Take passing conversations with a grain of salt, as they are often misconstrued.”

“I see.”

“And what about yourself? You’re not at all what the book makes you out to be.” Ciel looked at him carefully, a gentle smile gracing their lips. Lucifer’s bushed brows shot up in amusement. “I understand an introduction is not needed! How grand! Are you pleasantly surprised I’m not some horrid beast?”

“Would it be wrong of me to say yes?” She teased.

Funny. He likes that.

As the night wears on and the champagne flows freely, they are drawn together by shared laughter and lighthearted banter. Their eyes sparkle with mischief as they exchange playful quips and witty remarks, the intoxicating effects of the bubbly heightening their sense of camaraderie.

With each passing moment, their inhibitions fade, replaced by a growing sense of desire. Their laughter becomes more animated, and their touches linger a fraction longer, igniting a subtle yet undeniable spark between them.

However, amidst their playful flirtation, a shadow of guilt tugs at the overlord's conscience. She steals furtive glances towards his wife, who converses amiably with an acquaintance just a few feet away. Summoning her wit, she offers a sly remark, "Your Majesty, your charm is as dangerous as it is delightful. I fear I may be getting swept away in a current where I shouldn't be swimming."

The king's demeanor momentarily gives way to a thoughtful silence, his expression becoming unreadable as he weighs the words. For a fleeting moment, the air between them crackles with tension, as if suspended in anticipation of his response.

Then, with a subtle shift in his countenance, his features softened, and his eyes were alight with a glimmer of delight. With measured grace, he leans in slightly. "Ah, my dear, perhaps it is the allure of the forbidden that makes life's dance all the more thrilling."

Hm…

“A beauty she is.” Ciel sighs as their eyes drift across the captivating woman again, no longer masking her words with subtlety.

“Lilith? Indeed.” He responded.

“How would she feel about her husband chatting up a stranger?”

“Is this not a social event? Conversation is the pinnacle, sweetheart.”

“Conversation maybe. Flirting is not.” Ciel quips back.

“Ah ha! I see now. Is that what is bothering you? Lilith is not ignorant of my proclivities; in fact, she welcomes them with open arms!” He expresses himself gleefully, animating with his arms outstretched.

“It still feels wrong to be this friendly behind her back.” The once sweet fizz of the drink now burned unpleasantly at Ciel's throat. There is a beat of silence.

“Would you like for us to all get better acquainted?”

How could they deny an offer as sweet as that?

The ascent up the grand staircase is a haze. The soft glow of candlelight flickers against the walls, casting intricate shadows that sway with every movement. As they reach the top of the stairs, the air becomes thick with suspension.

Is this the appropriate thing to do?

Scents of jasmine linger in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of musky cologne, creating an intoxicating allure that pulls Ciel forward, ceasing any previous doubts.

Guided by the faint sound of murmured voices, she stands before the elaborate doors of the king and queen's private bedroom. The wood is warm beneath her fingertips as she pushes them open, revealing a sanctuary of luxury beyond.

The inside of the room is bathed in a soft, golden light, casting a halo around Lucifer and Lilith as they recline upon the plush bed. The queen's eyes are alight with a playful spark, and her voice is a melodic whisper as she welcomes them into their intimate domain. With a graceful gesture, she invites her to join them, her words laced with a subtle invitation that ignites a flicker of desire within Ciel's chest.

“No need to be shy, lovely. Your presence is much appreciated.”

Time feels as though it were moving through a thick puddle of molasses. Lingering touches dance along Ciel's skin; the feeling is so overwhelming that a soft whine escapes her lips. It was not her intention to come and seduce the most prominent individuals in the underworld, but she was pleased with the outcome. Little did she know, the feeling was mutual. Lucifer watches from a distance, his eyes ablaze with tension, his demeanor poised yet brimming with desire.

He knew it was not his turn.

He knows to wait patiently.

His gaze never wavers as he observes the exchange between Ciel and his goddess, a silent witness to the unfolding tableau of intimacy. With a tender smile, Lilith reaches out, her fingers grazing Ciel's cheek in a gesture of affection. In that brief touch, a current of electricity courses through, heightening the intensity of the moment. “I've heard so much about you; please forgive me. I just needed to see you for myself.” “You’re much prettier in person.” And then, as if guided by an invisible force, Lilith leans forward, her lips meeting theirs in a gentle yet impassioned kiss.

In that stolen moment of intimacy, the world outside fades away, leaving only the desperation of her and Lucifer, who watches with bated breath, his need now mirrored in the depths of his eyes. He can feel the distinctive strain against his pants.

All three let out short huffs as they hastily dropped their garments. It was too hot, too sticky. Ciel sought comfort in the cold air wafting throughout the chamber, being able to feel herself slip away in the confinements of pleasure. The only thing that drew her back was the distinct ticking of the grandfather clock.

“How do you feel?” Lilith is imbued with a sultry allure, carrying like a whispered caress throughout the air.

The duvet that was once neatly tucked into the soft mattress below was now thrown aside by the movement of bare bodies. Lilith has them right where she wants them. Their legs spread prettily enough for her to see the glimmer of the slick coat along her fingers. Ciel's cunt flutters greedily as the skillful fingers push inside once more. A mewl escapes her lips as she tries to form coherent thoughts. It was all too much. The tips of her fingers press snuggly against the sensitive tissue, making her chase for more.

It’s to no avail.

Each time she experiences that wonderful feeling, it is abruptly taken away, leaving her bewildered and dazed.

“Confined.” Ciel manages to sputter out after the loss of Lilith's touch. “I understand that, darling. What do you seek?” Lilith asks as she presses against her soft and sticky walls once again. She hisses, annoyed by the teasing. With a sharp retort poised on their lips, they muster the courage to respond with a sly remark, hoping to regain control of the conversation. “Release.”

But as the words leave their mouth, a wave of instant regret washes over, like a cold shower extinguishing the fire of their defiance. They realize too late the weight of their words and the potential consequences of their impulsive retort. Lilith's mouth curls into a grin as she makes a disapproving sound with her tongue.

No.

“Greedy thing.”

Please!

Ciel finds themselves consumed by an insatiable desire for her touch once more. Every fiber of their being yearns for the electrifying sensation of her fingers against their skin, aching for the pleasure it brings. Her voice trembles with intensity as they plead, their words an impassioned request for her return. Lilith coos gently, wiping away the salty tears that collected at their lash line. A forgiving queen she is. “Shh shh… I’ll ask you again.“

A murmur echoes within the room, laced with an ethereal appeal that holds them transfixed. "What do you seek?" With trembling breath, they confess their deepest longing, their voice barely a whisper, “Power.”

“Good girl.”

The stretch of Lucifer’s cock lacked the familiar, painful ache Ciel was accustomed to. He glides inside smoothly and bottoms out fully. Lilith’s preparation had made it easy; a puddle of arousal coats the underside of their body. Never in his life would he compare the beauty of another to his love, but this one? This one was making it increasingly difficult. Her walls had him entrapped, earning a low groan from him. So soft, even the jagged stitches that etched across her body felt gentle. His pulse flutters as he drags an earnest finger over the raised skin. He could not explain the growing impulse that rose within him, as he frequently acted on it. Lucifer presses a long kiss on the scar at the junction of her navel. “You’re doing so well, taking me so well.” He softly murmurs while pressing his finger against her sensitive nub, causing Ciel to cry out. His pace quickens and the sound of skins hitting against one another grows in passion-filled intensity.

Ciel's muffled squeak was met with the sweet taste of Lilith, a mixture of nectar and lust. The mound, so snuggly pressed against her lips, flutters with need. “Sweetheart—!” Lilith whimpers.

What a beautiful voice.

Ciel had no time to enjoy the sweet sound as Lucifer's rhythmic hip movements clouded her mind. She could hear the distinctive sound of lips meeting one another in a feverish haze. So passionate. They feel a sense of awe and reverence wash over them as if witnessing a sacred union that transcends mortal understanding.

“I love you.”

It was not said to her, though the effects were all the same. Ciel wailed loudly as their hips stuttered, their orgasm rushing over them so hard it left a dull pulse within. He groans in response to the connection between the inseparable duo becoming tighter. He presses his hands against her thighs, massaging the sweat-coated fat in between.

“You’re okay, lovely. I got you.”

The smooth exchange between the two leads Lilith to rush after her release; she can feel the coil inside snap. Coming down from her high duey sweat beads at her forehead, she was satisfied.

Ciel yearns for the snug embrace of Lucifer, their bodies still entwined in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. It took a moment for her to gasp for breath before her eyes trailed downward. He hadn’t cum.

She could cry.

Lilith, ever so perceptive, notices their discomfort and moves to reassure them. She offers a warm and understanding smile as she softly touches their cheek. "How precious. Do not be troubled, my dear." She says softly, her voice a soothing melody amid their turmoil. Drawing them up into a tender embrace, the queen whispers words of reassurance, her voice a balm to their wounded pride. With her gentle guidance, Ciel begins to feel the weight of embarrassment lift from their shoulders. “This is not your doing. Luci requires a little extra attention.” She gently pulls Ciel aside, then lays her husband down.

He had waited patiently, so who was she to deny his release?

Ciel peeks in marvel as she kisses him up his jaw, her fingers gripping his cock securely and slowly pumping it while cooing.

“My dove?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can you feel me?” With that, her free hand glides three fingers into his inviting hole, delicately pumping in and out. She receives no response; instead, Lucifer lets out a pitched whine, and he puffs out a strangled breath. To see someone as significant as him come undone so effortlessly made the familiar warmth of yearning pool in Ciel's gut.

“Are you paying attention?”

In their oblivious state, she fails to register the question, their mind preoccupied with the grandeur of the moment. Her laughter fills the air, quickening their heart with realization. A rush of warmth floods their cheeks as they finally comprehend the implications of the words. With an impish glint in their eye, Ciel teasingly inches closer to her, their movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

How ironic.

Hearts race with excitement at the audacity of their actions. “Whatever for, your majesty?” With a charming smile, the queen leans closer, almost meeting lips for another kiss. How she wishes she could taste her once more, the flavor forever grained into her mind. This was no mistake. She is thankful for the rumors, the yearly gala, and the chance to savor such a delight.

The air surrounding them thickens as Lucifer moans once more before cumming, and the sticky remnants drip from her fingers as she brings them up to Ciel's mouth. They do not hesitate to suck, and the taste is as sweet as hers. Heavenly.

“Why for our next rendezvous, of course.”

Author's Note: thank you so much for reading ! If anyone is here for an update on my Alastor fic I'll be working on it soon enough! Let me know if anyone wants a variant version where it's x gn reader. much love! p.s my ask box is open pls come talk with me.

[perfinn]

the heat that drives the light

aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc - part ii

wc: 4.4k

summary: aemond confronts his mother about his betrothed, but the wedding goes ahead, leaving the prince to grapple with his complicated feelings toward the tyrell girl

cw: NSFW, blind character, period typical ableism, ableism in general, for prosperity dubcon (because aemond is (allegedly) not into cecily but he still feels like he has to do his duty. but both parties consent), period typical misogyny, aegon being a creep, allusions to aemond's 13th name day

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

Cecily Tyrell had not yet reached her seventh name day when she fell ill. A visit to the Arbour struck the young Lady down with an illness that not even the finest of the citadel’s archmaesters could name. It was believed she contracted it from a passing sailor on the docks of the Arbour, explaining away the mysterious nature of the sickness. Some maesters, younger and full of ideas, suggested it had come from Qarth, the work of some warlock testing the potential of pestilence as a form of warfare in enemy lands. Others, more experienced and grounded, were sure it was only some disease that the Essosi had grown strong against, that had gone from Essos so long ago no one had thought to mention it to Westerosi sailors on their shores. It had only struck Cecily because she was so young, they had supposed. 

But, regardless of anyone’s theories, there was no real answer. It was a mystery to all but the gods, Cecily’s mother had once said. Despite that no one had any real knowledge of the illness Lady Cecily’s father, Lord Martyn Tyrell, did not rest in having her treated. Cecily was his only child, and her birth had near killed his wife. He had no other heir, yes, but his determination was born from far more than the issue of succession. To lose his Cecily would be to lose half his heart. 

Cecily survived, of course, and thankfully did not infect another. However, despite all the treatment her little body could handle, her vision had been taken from her. She could not see a thing but for a blur of colours, and even then only in the bright sunlight. 

“I’ve come to see my mother.”

Criston Cole looks the young prince over with a carefully neutral gaze. Aemond is certain Cole knows how to read him, certain he sees the tension lacing his shoulders almost up to his ears. He does not care, though, what the knight sees. 

“Cole.”

Cole appears to contemplate another moment before he nods and opens the door to the queen’s solar, announcing Aemond’s arrival. 

Alicent stands to greet him, eyes following him as he stalks into the room, standing across from her. Her face, which had been a smile to greet her son, falls to a confused frown. 

“Something is the matter,” she says, tone lowered inquisitively. She broaches the topic with a statement, not a question. She knows Aemond better than she knows her other children, can read him like a book at the worst of times. They’re alike, perhaps too alike. 

“I’ve seen the Tyrell girl.”

Alicent closes her mouth, exhaling deeply through her nose and lowering herself to sit again. She pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a moment before looking back at her son. “You weren’t supposed to see her until the wedding.”

“I’m aware,” says Aemond, voice clipped. “And I can see why. I won’t wed her.”

“This is not up for negotiation, Aemond.”

“I’m not going to suffer this humiliation just for political gain,” he says sharply. “Just because I’ve lost half my sight-”

“I did not pick her for you because of her blindness,” Alicent says, standing back up and approaching the tense prince. “How could I do that to you? When have you known me to have anything but your best interests at heart? I chose her for you because I believe she is a fine match. She is as shrewd as she is pretty, she has a sense of humour, she has a political mind, and someday she will be the Wardeness of the South. A fine one, at that. If I had wanted an easy political alliance, I would have offered her Daeron’s hand. It would have been a lot quicker. They could have wed in Highgarden and it could be done by now. But I want for my children to be happy, Aemond.”

Aemond hums and bites back a remark about Helaena and Aegon, but he’s just rational enough to hear his mother out. It will do little good to hear her reasoning, though. Her good intentions cannot dull the blow of his embarrassment. 

“I believe that the two of you can build something wonderful together,” Alicent says, taking Aemond’s arms. Her touch is gentle, a comfort, but not one Aemond wants to be given now. 

Aemond can hardly unclench his jaw enough to speak in clear sentences. “Then why was she to be kept from me?” 

“The decision was not mine. Lord Martyn wished for her to be kept separate from you until you meet her at the ceremony.”

Aemond shifts, an odd swell of defensiveness building in his chest. Not for her, he tells himself. For me. “He is ashamed of her?”

“Quite the opposite. He loves that girl more than anything, he is just worried. He fears there is an issue of succession, he is paranoid Cecily’s claim will be threatened.”

Sounds like someone else I know, thinks Aemond bitterly. 

“He doesn't want anything to jeopardise this union, including you.”

“He was right to worry, mother,” he snaps, pulling away from her. “I will not be forced into this union. I am owed more than an invalid!”

“Aemond,” hisses Alicent. “You can hate this until the day you die, but it is happening, and you will try to be a good husband to her. We must make sacrifices for the sake of our family.”

She thinks he is being irrational, and perhaps she’s right. But he has earned the right to irrationality, has he not? He was robbed of his eye, he received no retribution, and now it is all anyone ever sees. His mother can speak all she wishes of Cecily’s attributes, it is all overshadowed by her weakness. A weakness he does not share, no matter what anyone would whisper. How much more must he sacrifice for the sake of this family?

He clenches his jaw, turning away from his mother and moving to leave the room. “You do not know me as well as you thought you did. You should have saved everyone the time and married her to Daeron.”

Despite Aemond’s week of staunch refusal and threats to fly off on dragonback and never return, the wedding goes ahead. Somehow, he’s wrestled into the Red Keep’s sept and made to await his bride. 

Instead of his preferred dark green clothing, he’s been forced into a black doublet with a dark red undershirt. It makes him uncomfortable not for the feel of it – the fabric is luscious and comfortable and it fits him perfectly – but for what the colours represent. That he is a prince of House Targaryen. This he knows, of course, but it feels nothing more than a name to him. He feels that Hightower blood flows far stronger through him than any other, though he would never dare admit it aloud. 

No one would understand him. No one ever has. 

He fiddles with the dark red silk poking out of his sleeve, expression turned down in the scowl that’s made itself quite at home on his face, loathing the thing. He does not make a habit of fidgeting with his clothes, but his hatred for the fabric overpowers his usual composure. 

(Why do you bother, Aemond? he thinks. She will not even see it.)

If his father had any say in it Aemond would surely have the Three Headed Dragon emblazoned across his damned eyepatch, just to drive the message home. Maybe his betrothed’s blindness has spared him of that, for she’d never be able to appreciate it anyway. He’s certain that this tiny mercy is all her disability will ever do for him. 

When the murmuring sept falls quiet, Aemond clenches his fists by his side. He remains facing the statues of the Mother and the Father, watching the way the sun filters through stained glass and lights up the visage of the gods as his betrothed approaches him. He only turns when she is behind him, prepared to take her hand from her father.

Aemond expects to see what he’s come to expect of House Tyrell; opulence and shining silk inlaid with gems, disgusting shows of wealth for the sake of maintaining their status. He hates it, most ardently, but he finds he does not see it reflected in Cecily. 

Cecily’s face is hidden by a gauzy ivory veil, embroidered with pale pink roses. Her dress is creamy white, similarly embroidered with all manner of flowers the names of which Aemond could not hope to recall. It is well made and no doubt expensive, but it is not so far into the realm of ostentation that he wishes to turn away in disgust, he would go so far as to call it… pretty. 

She looks pretty, in ivory lace and the fern green maiden’s cloak that lays over her shoulders. He almost dreads to lift her veil and be so harshly reminded of the cloud over her eyes. He takes her hand, gently guiding her up the steps. 

“Last one,” he murmurs, instantly cursing himself for his kindness to her when she murmurs her thanks. He does not understand himself. He understands himself even less when he hesitates before he reaches for her veil. “Your veil. May I?”

(He does not like her but he will not be a cruel husband. He will not delight in frightening her, he will take whatever care he must to be better than the husbands in his family. She is a rose most delicate, more so than any other. No matter his resentment, she will be his wife and hence shall be handled with care.)

He sees that shrewd smile behind her veil, and sees her nod. “Of course.”

Gods, her voice is sweeter than he remembers. The memories of it which have echoed in his head each night since they met do it no justice. 

He takes her veil between his gloved fingers, lifting it up over her face and settling it over the crown of flowers that secure it to her hair. Her eyes are turned up to him, even if she does not see. He sees the greyish film over them and the gentle feelings are frozen, replaced once more with resentment. 

If he were to turn and run now, would anyone dare to stop him?

Alas, he stays where he is and goes through the proceedings of the union as he’s expected to. Despite his ample protests, there is still a large part of him that longs to be his mother’s dutiful son. 

He reaches to remove the green cloak from her shoulders, running his thumb gently over the embroidered gold trim, and replaces it with one of red and black. Black dragons dance across the fabric, and a smile dances across Cecily’s face. 

With the septon’s blessing and declaration of their union, Aemond takes both her hands. He hesitates a moment as he sees Cecily close her eyes, wondering what’s going on in her head. Is she afraid? Excited? He finds her impossible to read, and he finds it’s driving him mad. Still, he leans down and presses his lips gently to hers. They’re petal soft against his but he does not let it linger. 

He fears if he does he will get lost in it, in the smell of flowers on her skin and the softness of her pink lips. He will not fall to the weak man’s game of lust, no matter if she is his wife under the Seven’s eye. The sept erupts into cheers for the new couple, and Aemond does not miss the way Cecily flinches at the sudden barrage of noise. 

He finds himself cursing their guests for frightening his wife, and he does not know why. 

Aemond is not granted a moment to speak with Cecily until the two of them are sitting beside one another at their wedding banquet, his new wife placed on the side of his good eye. 

The food is placed before them, and the first words his bride speaks to him in near-privacy are, “What have they prepared?”

Aemond taps his finger against the arm of his chair, looking between Cecily and the meal before him. “You seemed to have a keen sense of smell when last we met.”

Cecily chuckles, nodding slowly as she feels across the table for her fork. “As far as anyone but you, Flora, and myself is concerned, that meeting did not happen. But yes, I can smell things better than most, though it may only take me so far. I can smell, hm… fowl, and vegetables, and I can smell spiced honey, and of course the wine that flows from our cups.”

Aemond looks down at his plate, scowling at the sheer aptitude of her nose’s instinct. “It is honey glazed duck with stewed vegetables.”

“Ah!” Cecily delights, brightening with a smile. “It has been some time since my nose has served me this well. The Gods must smile on us today.”

Aemond scoffs. “The Gods have more important matters to tend to than what a blind girl smells for her dinner.”

“The Seven looks upon us always, lord husband, always,” she says as she begins to eat her food. Aemond scowls. She seems pious, even if she does not act as demure as a woman should. He supposes that very few women he knows do, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

Cecily does not bother him while they eat, but he watches her and sees she has not switched off. She is listening to the conversations around her, brow turned down in focus. Aemond looks away from her and to the wine in his cup, finding himself trying to do the same. He does not tune into much except half a hushed conversation between his mother and his older brother. 

He hears the words “abhorrent” and “heretical” hissed from his mother, and decides the conversation is not one worth hearing. It does not surprise him to hear that said to Aegon.

When dinner is finished and their empty plates carried away, Cecily leans toward Aemond again. 

“I am sorry we cannot share a dance,” she says. 

Aemond looks over at her, seeing her hands are tracing once more over the embroidery of her dress. She had been doing the same when he barged into her chambers last week. Perhaps it’s a comfort for her. “I hate dancing.”

Cecily smiles at him. “I see. Lucky for us both then. Dancing with a partner is an impossibility with no vision, I can imagine halved vision only makes it an ordeal.”

“Mmm,” hums Aemond, feeling that he should be upset by her words. He hates for it to be brought up, but she’s correct. The lack of vision on one side makes dancing a near impossible task. Maybe he was wrong about her blindness offering him only one mercy. But he cannot imagine any more. “Quite.” 

Her smile stays on her face, radiant despite Aemond’s cold and dismissive tone. There is a hidden, traitorous part of him that wishes to get to know her. She’s his wife, after all. Maybe it would be beneficial to them both if he made some effort to know the woman he’s supposed to love under the Gods’ doctrine. The woman he’s meant to bed. But he strikes that traitorous urge down and shoves it back into the recesses of his mind. He does not need to know a woman to perform his duty. If nothing else, Aegon is evidence of that fact. 

After another moment of stubborn silence Cecily leans away, calling for her cousin Flora. “I shall go speak to our guests, lord husband. Would you like to join me?”

“No,” he says, waving his hand before remembering she can’t see it and hurriedly lowering it, as though embarrassed. “Go.”

He finally sees a hint of her enthusiasm leeched by his dismissive words, and cannot help but be satisfied by it as she stands and offers him a curtsey before turning to Flora and making her way toward where his mother and father – barely conscious of his surroundings – sit. He scowls, thinking of how strongly Cecily will smell Viserys’ rotting body. 

He stiffens when another stench places itself beside him, the familiar scent of Arbour red that always seems to hang off his brother. He does not acknowledge him at first, keeping his eye on his own cup – Arbour gold, as is his own preference on the rare days he sullies himself with drink – in the hope that Aegon will see he is not interested in speaking to him. 

He has, as ever, no such luck.

“Brother,” says Aegon, words slightly slurred. “You will be most happy with me today.”

“Will I?” says Aemond, setting his cup down but still not looking at him.

“Indeed. I have convinced our mother to forgo the bedding ceremony.”

This gives Aemond pause, and finally convinces him to turn his gaze to Aegon. Aegon grins. 

“I knew you’d like that. You’ll still need to consummate, but I’ve done the kindness of letting you do it in private.”

“How did you manage that?”

He shrugs. “A few well placed words about the Seven and decency. Appealing to mother’s faith will get you far, you know. Do not say I’ve never done anything for you. But listen–” Aemond should have known he would want something out of this. “– I can see you do not like her. You will not wish to lay with her, and I understand. But I do not give a fuck if she’s blind, in fact–”

“Do not dare suggest what you have in mind, brother–”

“Come now! I am just being the caring big brother I have always been, Aemond. If you cannot complete the act and you wish to call me in, she’ll be none the wiser. Even if you can, I would still appreciate a turn.”

“Hold your tongue,” Aemond hisses, reaching out and grabbing Aegon by the front of his wine-stained shirt. “You dishonour my wife and your own. Does your debauchery never cease?”

“Gods, brother!” Aegon huffs, clumsily trying to smack Aemond’s hand away. “Twas only a suggestion!”

“Cecily is my wife, and if I hear you’ve touched her you will no longer have a cock to shove in whichever serving girl next takes your fancy.” His voice is low, dangerous. Aegon, though, only seems amused as he holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Forgive me, I only hoped to save you from a girl you’re so clearly repulsed by,” he says, as though his intentions had been purely selfless and full of care for his brother. He is so drunk he does not realise that Aemond has never been more serious. “By all means, have the girl. But do tell me if her cunt really smells of roses.”

Aemond releases him roughly, sending the man tumbling off his chair, and stands with the intent to find his wife. He’s thankful to see her still standing before the queen and king with Flora.

He makes his way over, making his presence known to Cecily with a clearing of his throat. 

“Your husband,” Flora murmurs to Cecily, and the two of them offer curtsies to the prince. 

Aemond watches them for a moment before turning to his mother. “Aegon tells me you have decided there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Alicent offers her son a smile and nods. “Yes, we both agreed it was an affront to the Seven. And I am certain there will be proof enough of your consummation come the morning, won’t there?”

“With any luck, your grace,” says Cecily. 

“Good,” says Aemond, not acknowledging Cecily. “Then I wish to retire with my lady wife now. It will serve as a good excuse for father to go rest as well.”

“Right,” says Alicent, moving to stand with the intent to announce their departure, no doubt. 

“No need for an announcement,” he says, gesturing for her to sit back down. “We will go quietly. Lady Cecily, come.”

He holds out his arm and Flora carefully guides Cecily to take it, bidding her cousin good night and good luck.

Aemond leads Cecily up to his chambers, hesitating at the door. She has not said a word the whole way. Is she afraid, as he is? Nervous? It would be only logical. Even without the worry of lords of the realm witnessing their coupling, it is daunting for Aemond. He cannot imagine the fear it would cause in someone who has not done it before. 

He opens the door, gently leading her inside by a hand on the small of her back. “I will help you find your way around until you learn it,” he tells her. 

“Thank you, my lord,” she says, fiddling again with her dress. “Do you know why we’ve been allowed to do this without spectators?”

“A kindness brokered by my brother,” says Aemond, closing the door and looking to her as she stands in the middle of the room, aimless. A sting of repulsion twists in his chest. It feels all too similar to self-loathing, though he cannot know why. “I’m sure it is all we will get in lieu of a wedding gift.”

“Ah, then I must make certain to thank him,” she says, reaching back to begin undoing the lacing of her gown.

“You should not trouble yourself with Aegon’s company,” he says firmly, looking away from her as though trying not to dishonour her in a state of undress. 

“Oh,” she murmurs, slipping off the dress so it pools around her ankles. She stands there in only her smallclothes. He glances up, catching sight of her as she slips her chemise from her shoulders and his breath catches in his throat. Her body, svelte but soft with a life of good food and comfort, is near bare before him. She smiles, evidently hoping he’s looking as she plays with her hands. “I hope I am pleasing to you. Will you help me to the bed?”

He watches her in silence for a moment, as though stunned by the sight of his wife almost naked. In a sense, he is. He had not expected Cecily to act quite so boldly. She is a confident woman and not demure as he is aware, but somehow he thought her nerves would get the better of her. Perhaps not being able to see his reactions helps.

Could she see, she would see a man stunned and frightened, and he finds himself thankful yet again for her blindness. He does not answer her but begins to slowly undress, first removing his gloves, then his boots, then he undoes the lacing of his doublet. As he does, he moves toward her. She perks, then stiffens, as though realising what those footsteps mean. 

He shrugs the doublet off, and reaches to take her hand. The touch of her bare skin against his, for the first time, burns hotter than dragonfire. 

He forces himself to lead her to the bed and watches as she sits down, shimmying up to lean against the pillows, hands settled in her lap as Aemond moves to sit down beside her. It feels wrong to be in a state of undress around a woman, even one who cannot see him. He hasn't allowed himself to be intimate with a woman since…

He pushes that thought from his mind. Hate Cecily as he does, she seems kind enough. Innocent, as he had once been. She will not laugh at him as those women did. 

(Gods, he hopes she is truly as kind as she makes out to be.)

Cecily shifts closer to him, gently feeling across the soft sheets for Aemond’s hand. She turns to face him, offering him a timid smile. “I am a maiden,” she tells him. “But I will try not to be boring for you.”

“You do not have to,” Aemond mumbles, watching her hand slide over his arm and onto his chest, then down. He feels his pulse quicken, but does not stop her. 

“I wish to,” she promises in a whisper. Her hand trails further down, to the waist of his trousers. 

Aemond clenches his jaw and reaches for her wrist as gently as he can manage, though he’s certain she feels the slight tremble in his grip. He moves her hand away, not meeting her eyes to avoid the look on her face– she must be mocking him. She must think him a fool, a boy, an invalid, just like she is. “Let us not make this more complicated than it ought to be.”

“But, I-”

“Lay back. I will do my best to be gentle.”

He finally looks up at her and what he sees is not a mocking sneer, but only confusion. Still, she obliges him and shifts to lay down on the bed, hands folded over her stomach. Aemond’s heart pangs with something he cannot hope to understand, but he ignores it. He undoes his pants, crawling over her and not wasting any further time. 

He goes as slow as he can manage to ease her into the feeling, but once he has broken her maidenhead he forces himself away from all sentimentality and care, moving instead with cold, hard duty. He does not let himself think about how she feels wrapped around his cock, soft and wet and warm and tight. He especially does not dare let himself look at her, does not dare see the expression of disappointment and upset that no doubt takes residence on her face. He cannot. 

After some time he comes with a grunt, taking a few steadying breaths to keep himself under control. To lose any part of his inhibitions now would be weakness. 

I am not weak, he thinks, not doing well to convince himself. Aemond Targaryen is not weak. 

He pulls out after a moment and rolls over to lay beside her. Cecily says nothing, but he sees her press her palms to her eyes and take a deep inhale. She’s trying not to cry. A better husband might comfort her, but Aemond cannot bring himself to do so when he cannot even comfort himself. So Aemond rolls over and listens to his wife try to keep her breathing even, feeling weaker than he has in many years.

[ao719]

Vancross

Vancross - My Way Back To You (Chapter 22)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.  

Title inspiration: Find My Way Back - Eric Arjes

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

Standing inside the living area of his campus suite, Liam leaned against the back of the sofa and drummed his fingers against the cushion as he glanced around the room at the others. 

On one end of the sofa, Alia sat next to Blaine and Simon, watching the two of them go over the details of their aliases despite having memorized them in grave detail over the last week.

Amalas was nestled in the corner with a laptop resting on her lap and Olivia beside her, showing her the program she would be using to hack into the Drakovian palace’s security cameras. 

Trystan and Leo were on the other end of the sectional, whispering as they looked over the palace blueprints for what had to be the hundredth time in the last month. 

The rest of the group had just left, but not before wishing them luck and demanding they keep them updated. 

With nothing to do but stare, Liam turned and quietly slipped out onto the balcony. He climbed the ladder to the roof and walked toward their makeshift lounge; it now had one less chair after his meltdown last week. Instead of sitting in a chair, he moved to the parapet and dropped down on it as he looked out at the view of campus below. 

They were leaving for Rivala tomorrow, and Liam found himself on edge with worry despite them having spent the last month planning every detail of this trip down to the wire. 

An old friend of Leo’s was letting them use his SUV to take them to the private jet he was also letting them use so as to not draw suspicion from their parents until they had to. Having their guards’ schedules down, they planned to sneak out in the early morning hours while they were running perimeter checks. Liam had already played his Crown Prince card and ordered Anthony not to tell his parents that Leo and Trystan were there, but once they were “missing”, it would only be a matter of time before their parents would be alerted of their absence. 

Trystan’s friend, who ran a security company in Rivala and was allowing them to use his cabin, offered to have a vehicle waiting for them once they landed. 

Simon, Blaine, and Leo had packed their finest suits and acquired masks that concealed most of their faces to go with the masquerade theme. They had spent the last week being prepped by Amalas for any situations that may arise once they were inside while Trystan made sure the locations of the two exits they needed to know about were drilled into their memory.

Amalas planned to tap into the security cameras as soon as they were at the cabin, wanting to ensure everything was running as it should. Once they were inside, she’d be able to monitor everything going on and she and Olivia would feed Trystan and the others any information they would need. 

Liam and Alia would be there simply as moral support to one another. They weren’t allowed to leave the cabin and Amalas made it explicitly clear that they were not to hover and watch the cameras on the off chance of seeing something that would upset either of them. 

Hearing someone behind him, Liam glanced over his shoulder to see Trystan just as he stepped onto the roof. He walked over and sat on the parapet beside him. “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” Liam nodded as he looked back out at the view of the campus below. “Just anxious.”

“It’s going to be fine.” 

Liam glanced over at him to see the lukewarm smile he was wearing. For the most part, Trystan had remained composed over the last month of planning, but throughout the past week, his stoic facade seemed to falter now and then. It was little things most wouldn’t notice, like now and his halfhearted smile. He hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to allow himself to believe that Trystan’s optimism was fading; it was the thing keeping not only his spirits up but everyone else’s. 

Still looking at him, Liam thought about something that had been on his mind that he hadn’t recalled Trystan mentioning. “I meant to ask you … we’ve made these plans to get her out, but … what about after?” 

“What do you mean?”

Liam swallowed thickly. “Are you going to take her back to New York with you?” It was the only place he could think of that they might go. 

Trystan shook his head. “I can’t take her to New York.”

“Why?”

“The Homeland Accord,” Trystan answered, earning a questioning look from him. “It’s an extradition agreement Drakovia has with the U.S. It allows them to summon any Drakovian home at will, no questions asked, and the U.S. government has to comply. So I can’t risk taking her back to the States because they would have no choice but to send her back.”

“Then where will you go?”

“Honestly, I’ve been so focused on the task of getting her out, I haven’t planned that part out yet. We can stay in Rivala for a couple of days, but after that … I’m not sure yet.”

“You can bring her to Cordonia,” Liam offered without hesitation.

Trystan shook his head. “I don’t want to cause any unnecessary issues for Cordonia when my mother eventually figures out where she is, which she will. Plus, your parents are probably going to be livid with me for dragging you into this plan …” 

Getting on the Cordonian monarch’s bad side wasn’t what Trystan wanted, but he had to risk it to save not only his sister but Liam as well; he was still convinced that had he not let him help, he would have gone rogue.

“Yeah, they’re going to be pissed, but more so at me than you,” Liam said. “At the end of the day, I’m an adult, and you didn’t force me to be a part of this … it was kind of the other way around. Regardless, they wouldn’t turn you or Croía away from refuge over it. And I know we don’t have any kind of agreement with Drakovia, extradition or otherwise, so that’s not something you’d have to worry about. And I … I’d be able to stay with her.”

Trystan furrowed his brows. “You do realize you still have school, right?”

“I did some research,” Liam explained. “I knew you’d have to take her somewhere and I … I didn’t want to have to be apart from her after only getting her back, so I looked into what my options were, and hers as well if she’s up to it. We can finish out the remainder of the year doing our classes online if the Dean receives a request with a legitimate reason as to why. She’s behind because she’s been gone, but she can catch up and still graduate at the end of the semester. And considering the circumstances, I’m sure the Dean would grant us the permission we need.” 

Trystan stared at Liam, a little bit in awe at the lengths he was willing to go to be by Croía’s side, but he wasn’t sure why he was surprised by it at that point, either. “That’s a pretty big sacrifice to make, Liam. You’d be missing the rest of your senior year.”

“I’d rather miss the rest of it than be away from her,” Liam replied. “We could stay in Cordonia and do the classes that way … and she’d be safe there. Like I said, my parents wouldn’t turn either of you away regardless of how pissed they are. And again, most of that anger will be directed at me for lying and going behind their backs.”

Trystan looked away from him, thinking for a moment. “Well … let’s just focus on getting her out for now. After that, we’ll discuss our options. Because we have to see how she is first before we go making any decisions …” 

Liam nodded and glanced away, and Trystan was thankful he either hadn’t caught what he’d said about seeing how Croía was or he just didn’t think much of it to ask him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to elaborate. 

Just then, his phone rang, and Trystan pulled it from his pocket. Liam saw him sigh as he looked at the screen. “Who is it?”

“Mags. I think she’s becoming a little suspicious.” Trystan slid his thumb across the screen to answer it before putting it on speaker so Liam could hear. “Hello.”

“Hey, yourself. What are you doing?”

“Hanging out on some rooftop,” Trystan answered. It wasn’t a lie. 

“Sounds delightful. Hey, listen … have you spoken to Croía?” Trystan winced before closing his eyes; he knew it was only a matter of time. “I haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks, and it’s not like her to not call me back … unless she’s pissed at me for some reason I can’t recall.”

“Don’t worry. She’s alright.” That was semi-true; Trystan had still been receiving updates from Everett, who had promised him that Croía had remained physically unharmed. 

But that answer was the wrong one to give because it set off Marguerite’s alarm bells. 

“What does that mean?” Marguerite snapped. “Trystan, what the hell is going on?”

Blowing out a breath, Trystan met Liam’s worried gaze. Marguerite had already been suspicious of his “trip” with Leo because of how long he’d been gone, and how he hadn’t been in touch with her — or Cameron, because of course they shared notes — as much as he typically would. His answer just now had inadvertently sent her suspicions into overdrive. And she now knew that whatever it was he was hiding somehow involved their baby sister. 

Trystan hated lying to her, but he remained steadfast in his choice not to involve her. The less she knew, the better. “Listen … I know this is going to be difficult for you, but I need you to not ask me any more questions because I don’t want to lie to you, Mags. I promise that when I can tell you something, which will be very soon, I will.”

“But Trystan—”

“Mags, please,” Trystan interrupted in a plea. 

Marguerite remained quiet for several long moments before speaking again. “Just … tell me you’re ok. That you and Croía are both ok …” 

“We’re ok. Promise.” 

****

Later, Liam stood in his room, changing into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt after he’d finished packing his bag. He wasn’t sure how he was going to attempt to get any sleep that night because as the time for them to leave drew nearer, he found himself more and more restless.  

Hearing a knock on his door, Liam called for them to enter, and Leo stepped inside a moment later. “You good?” he asked as he shut the door behind him.

“Antsy,” Liam answered. 

Leo nodded in understanding. “It won’t be long now. We’ll get in and get this thing done and it’ll be over before you know it.” 

Liam could only hope it would be that easy. “I offered for Trystan to bring Croía to Cordonia to stay after we get her out. I know Mom and Dad are going to be pissed … but I told him they wouldn’t turn them away when they needed someplace safe to stay.”

“They won’t,” Leo agreed. “Yeah, they’re going to lay into both of us, but they’ll get over it. I’m sure once they hear why we did what we did, they’ll understand.” 

“Leo …” Liam looked at his brother, searching for the right words. “Thank you … for helping with all of this.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Leo smiled. “I’ve grown pretty fond of Cocoa Bean.”

Liam cracked a small smile at the mention of the nickname his brother called her, a play on his Cocoa. It was the first genuine smile he had in weeks. 

A chime on Liam’s laptop broke the moment, and they both glanced over. “Speaking of Mom and Dad …” 

Without thinking, Leo dropped to the floor; Liam flung his arm toward the door, a silent question to ask why he didn’t just slip out, but didn’t have time to wait for a response before he turned to answer the incoming video call.

“Hey,” Liam smiled when his mother’s face came on the screen. 

“Hello, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m …” Liam trailed off, seeing the door behind him on the screen start to open; he glanced over his shoulder to see his brother, still on the floor, army crawling out.

“Liam?”

“Yeah,” Liam snapped his gaze back to the laptop and picked it up, bringing it to his bed. “Sorry. I’m good. How are things back home?”

“They’re fine …” Eleanor eyed him curiously. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, why?” Liam answered a little too quickly. 

“You just haven’t seemed like yourself lately. You seem … distracted.” 

Liam chewed the inside of his cheek; he hated lying to anyone, especially his mother, but he couldn’t tell her what was going on. Not yet anyway. “Just busy with assignments.”

“Ok,” Eleanor nodded, but Liam could tell she wasn’t truly buying his answer. “And how’s Croía?”

“She — she’s fine.” 

Again, Eleanor eyed him curiously because she caught the slight slip in his tone when he answered. “Where has she been? I haven’t seen or heard her with you when we’ve talked over the last few weeks.”

“She’s been busy … with assignments, too.”

“Hm,” Eleanor nodded. Liam knew that “hm” was her ‘I don’t believe a word you said, but I’m going to let it slide for now’ response. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “I’ve just got a lot going on.” That was the truth. He glanced up when Leo’s head poked through the door; he flapped his hand in a talking motion and then threw his thumb over his shoulder. Code for ‘We’re having a meeting in the living area, hurry up and get your ass out here.’ “Hey, Mom, I’m sorry to cut this so short, but I gotta get going. I’m in the middle of working on, uh … a big project …” Kind of true, just not the kind of project she was probably thinking of. 

“Ok, sweetheart.” Eleanor offered a smile, but he could see the concern behind it. “We’ll talk soon. I love you.”

Liam felt a pang of guilt ripple through him. “Love you, too, Mom.” 

When he ended the video chat, Liam tossed his laptop onto the bed before heading out to the living area where Trystan was waiting with Leo, Olivia, Amalas, Blaine, Alia, and Simon. 

“Simon, Olivia, Alia, and Amalas are getting ready to head back to their suites, so I just want to be sure we all know where to meet later,” Trystan explained.

“Edge of campus on the north side,” the others all said in unison. 

“Time?”

“The guards start their morning perimeter checks precisely at five,” Alia replied. 

“And if one of you gets caught …?”

“We stay behind,” Simon answered. 

Trystan nodded. “It should take you no more than five minutes to get there once you’re outside. We’ll wait another five minutes at the spot. If you’re not there, I’m going to assume you got caught and we’ll leave without you. Be sure you have everything you need with you because you won’t be able to go back if you forget something. And make sure to leave your phones behind so your locations can’t be pinged.”

They all nodded.

*******

Standing along the edge of campus, hidden in the shadows of the trees, Liam, Leo, Blaine, Alia, Amalas, and Trystan were waiting for Olivia and Simon. They had easily slipped out undetected by Anthony, Jacob, and Alia’s guard Rowan while they stepped away from their posts outside their suites to do their morning perimeter checks around their buildings. 

Hearing the snap of a twig, all their heads snapped to the left just as Olivia stepped into view. “Had me worried for a minute there,” Liam quipped.

“Apparently my guard is a chatty-fucking-Cathy in the morning. He barely speaks during the day, but stood outside the damn front door gossiping with Evelyn’s guard,” she rolled her eyes before looking at the others. “Where’s Simon?”

“Still waiting for him,” Blaine answered. 

The group fell quiet as the minutes ticked by. Trystan broke the silence when he cursed under his breath. “Where the fuck is he?” They’d have to rearrange their whole plan going into the ball if Simon didn’t show.

“He’ll be here,” Liam said. 

Suddenly, they heard the sound of stamping feet and looked over to see Simon barreling towards them in a full-on run. “Go, go, go!” he shouted.

“He’s going to wake up the whole damn campus,” Trystan grumbled. “This way!”  

They all turned and rushed into the pathway that led to the outside of the campus gates on the north side, where Leo’s friend had parked an SUV for them to take to the airport.   

“What the fuck happened?” Olivia shouted over her shoulder at Simon who had caught up to her.

“My guard came around the corner as I slipped out the front door!” Simon huffed through breaths. “Apparently the old bloke starts his checks early! And he’s bloody fast when he wants to be!” 

They raced through the path, swatting low-hanging branches out of their way as they went until they broke through the clearing on the other side. Leo pulled a set of keys from his pocket given to him earlier by his friend and hit a button; he snapped his gaze to the left when lights started to blink from being unlocked. “There!” he pointed. 

“Lord Simon!” the guard bellowed from inside the pathway. 

“Haul ass!” Blaine said as he raced toward the vehicle, gripping Alia’s hand and pulling her behind him. 

Once at the vehicle, Amalas, Olivia, and Simon climbed in first to the third row; Liam, Alia, and Blaine followed, sliding into the second row while Leo and Trystan jumped into the front seats. 

Leo started the SUV and threw it into drive just as Simon’s guard burst through the clearing; he peeled away from the curb before making a sharp right onto the main road.

As they made their way to the airport, the inside of the vehicle was silent save for the eight of them trying to catch their breath. 

Suddenly, Leo began to laugh as he glanced at Trystan. “That brought back some fucking memories, huh?” 

Trystan snorted as he dropped his head back against the seat. “Sure the hell did.” 

“If that was a regular occurrence for you two, I’m going to need to hear some stories,” Blaine breathed. 

Leo and Trystan both chuckled. “We’ll have some time on the flight,” Trystan said. 

“We could tell them about that time we gave taking a pill in Ibiza a whole new meaning,” Leo snorted. 

Blaine and Liam shared a wide-eyed look as Leo pressed his foot more firmly on the gas pedal. 

******

Sitting in the back of the cabin by himself, Liam stared out the window of the jet, lost in thought as he watched the morning sun cast a golden glow across the tops of the clouds. He hadn’t even thought to ask how long the flight to Rivala would be; he guessed around two hours, maybe two and a half. A yawn escaped him as he rested his head back against the seat, but he couldn’t sleep; he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, either, too on edge and anxious to shut his mind off. And he was sure he wasn’t going to sleep much if at all that night with the ball taking place tomorrow evening. 

While Liam was on edge with worry, he was also consumed by anticipation. He couldn’t stop thinking about the moment he’d be able to see Croía, about the moment he’d be able to wrap her in his arms for the first time in over a month. And that anticipation felt like the only thing keeping his head above water at the moment. If he focused on that, he wasn’t drowning in thoughts of all the ways in which this plan they’d spent the last month devising could go wrong. 

The feel of someone plopping down into the seat beside him jerked Liam from his thoughts; he glanced over to see Blaine. “How are you holding up?” he asked as he nestled into the seat. 

“I’m ok.”

“Liar.” 

Liam let out a breath. “How about you? Are you nervous about going in there?” 

“Surprisingly, no,” Blaine answered. “I blame the adrenaline, though. Either that or I’ve just fucking lost it.” 

Liam laughed despite himself, thankful for the dose of levity his friend could give him at that moment. “I don’t know if I’ve said it, but … thank you.”

Blaine knit his brows and glanced over at him. “What the hell are you thanking me for?”

“For doing this … for being willing to do it.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Li,” Blaine shook his head. “You’d do the same thing if it was Alia. Not just because of who she is to me, but because she’s your friend, just like Croía is mine.” He stared at him for a moment. “Are you really ok?”

“I just want to see her,” Liam said quietly. “I need to see that she’s ok. And I … I’m trying not to think about it, but I keep wondering … what if something goes wrong? What if you guys can’t get her out? What if you guys get caught and you can’t get out? What will happen then? What do we do? Because we’ve planned everything else in grave detail, but nothing has been mentioned about those possibilities.” 

“I think not planning for those what-ifs just shows how confident Trystan is that we’ll get this done,” Blaine said. “He’s very … ‘this is how it’s going to happen’, not ‘this is what I hope will happen’. And not in a cocky way. I think he’s just determined as fuck because this is his baby sister. Watching him plan all of this out … I don’t have any doubt that we’ll get in, do what we need, and get out. And maybe that’s why I’m not feeling as nervous as I probably should.”

“His confidence and optimism can be somewhat contagious,” Liam said. “It’s definitely helped me out the past month.”

“I’m not going to pretend to know what it’s been like for you, but just … keep your head up, brother,” Blaine smiled. “That’s really all any of us can do at this point.” 

****

Once they landed in Rivala later that morning, the group filed into an SUV; Trystan plugged the address of the cabin into the GPS and they drove off. 

The cabin was situated deep in the Rivalan mountains, not too far from the Drakovian border, and was about an hour’s drive to the palace. A few of them had brought up concerns of whether or not the cabin would be able to fit them all, but Trystan told them not to worry. 

After a drive that felt entirely too long inside the cramped SUV, Trystan turned into a driveway that went up the mountain about a half mile. When the cabin came into view, everyone’s eyes widened save for Trystan’s. He put the vehicle in park and chuckled at their reflections in the rearview mirror. “I told you not to worry.”

“You said it was a cabin. Not a damn mountain mansion,” Blaine said as he flung the door open.

The “cabin” was massive, and sat on the edge of the mountain, offering a picturesque view from the front. “There’s five bedrooms,” Trystan said. “Someone will have to take the sofa, and there’s another sofa with a pull-out bed.” 

“I’ll take the sofa, and you can take the pull-out,” Leo said to Trystan. “Everyone else can grab a room.” 

Trystan nodded as they stopped at the front door; he unlocked it and pushed it open, stepping inside as the others followed. “If only we were here for another reason …” Simon trailed off as he looked around. 

“It’s nice,” Olivia smiled. 

“I’m not really a cabin in the woods kind of girl,” Amalas said, “but if I was, I’d have to agree.”

“Bedrooms are upstairs,” Trystan explained as he dropped his bag down behind one of the sofas. “He made sure the kitchen was stocked, so help yourselves to anything you want. We’re on our own for dinner, so work with whatever’s here.” 

****

That night, after relaxing most of the day and having a thrown-together dinner, everyone headed to their respective rooms to try and get some rest. 

Earlier, Amalas had set up her equipment and gotten into the Drakovian security system, pulling up the cameras on her laptop. And true to her word, she wouldn’t let Liam or Alia near her for even a glimpse of the screen. Olivia came to Liam a while later and told him that they hadn’t seen Croía on any of the footage, and promised him that she’d find a way to let him know if they did. 

After lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for an hour straight, Liam got up and headed downstairs to get a glass of water. It wasn’t that late, but between their early morning and the flight and drive, the others were more tired than usual. 

When Liam crept down the stairs, he spotted his brother asleep on one of the sofas; the pull-out bed that Trystan was sleeping on was empty. His brows furrowed as he looked around while making his way to the kitchen, and he stopped near the sliding door that led to the back deck. A wooden gangway was connected to the deck and led to another smaller dock, floating on a pond that sat nestled in the back of the property. 

And on that smaller dock, silhouetted in the lights that surrounded it, stood Trystan.  

Careful not to wake his brother, Liam slipped out through the sliding door and made his way across the gangway. He’d noticed since arriving at the cabin that Trystan had seemed quieter than usual. There was obviously something on his mind, and at first, he suspected that it was just anticipation now that they were there. Now, seeing him standing out there alone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something else. 

Not wanting to startle him, Liam didn’t mask his footsteps, and when Trystan heard them, he looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?” Liam asked as he approached. 

“Just thinking,” Trystan replied before looking back out at the water. “Are you doing ok?” he asked Liam as he stopped beside him. 

“I’m … as best as can be expected, I guess. I just wish there was more that I could do to help tomorrow.” 

Liam hated feeling useless, and that’s exactly how he felt. He knew he was only there with the others as a courtesy and that his presence made no difference in their plan for tomorrow evening. 

“You’re going to help, Liam,” Trystan said. “The minute she sees you, it will help.”  

Liam remained quiet for a few moments before looking at him. “Everyone keeps asking me how I’m doing … but how are you doing?”

Trystan let out a wry chuckle. “I’m ready to get it over with.” 

At that moment, Liam saw that same falter in his facade that he’d noticed over the last week, and knowing something was bothering him, a pang of panic struck him. He’d mentioned it to Blaine on the jet but had avoided asking Trystan this question for the last month, but now … he had to know. “Are you … are you worried? That something will go wrong and you won’t get her out?” 

Trystan glanced over and met his gaze in the dim lighting that surrounded the dock. He was worried, yes, but not for the reason Liam thought. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, not wanting to cause him more concern than he knew he was already feeling. But maybe in being honest and telling him about the growing worry that had been nagging at him, he could, in turn, prepare him. 

Looking back out at the water, Trystan blew out a breath. “I’m scared out of my damn mind, not because I don’t think we’ll get her out … but because I’m worried we’ll get her out too late …”

“Too late?” Liam questioned as his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Trystan sighed, looking at Liam with a vulnerability in his eyes he hadn’t seen from him before. “Croía’s been there for over a month. And I know the mind games my mother is playing with her and the kinds of things she’s been filling her head with — that no one cares, that no one’s reached out, that you and Alia and everyone else she thought she meant something to have just forgotten her. She’ll keep saying it to her over and over and over in an attempt to pull her further into her thrall. And if Croía loses hope … if everything goes dark and she doesn’t see a way out … she’s going to believe those things. I’ve seen her lose hope before … I’ve seen it go dark and watched her retreat into her shell … and I’m worried about how far inside that shell she’s going to be when we get to her.” 

Liam swallowed thickly as he took in his words. He’d also seen her retreat into that shell, and that was after just a one-day visit from her mother. After five weeks … he didn’t want to think about it. 

“We’ll get her out of Drakovia tomorrow, that I’m certain of because I will not leave there without her. It’s what comes after that I’m worried about.” Trystan turned to him. “I didn’t agree to let you come along simply to placate you. You being here will show her that everything my mother has filled her head with isn’t true. That you didn’t forget her … that you fought for her. That’s why you being here helps more than you realize, Liam. So please don’t feel like you’re not doing anything, because out of this entire plan … you being here is one of the most essential parts. You make her feel safe. You make her feel loved. And she’s going to need that … need you … more than anything else.” 

Liam rubbed a hand over his mouth as he blinked away the sting in his eyes. He’d been so focused on getting her out and the what-ifs of the plan, he hadn’t really stopped to consider the aftermath.

About how shredded apart her self-worth could be. 

About how broken she might be. 

If Croía had lost hope and things were dark, Liam would do anything he could to pull her out of that darkness, to remind her of how loved and worthy she was. He could only hope that she’d believe it … believe him.

*******

The following afternoon, Amalas and Olivia were seated in the dining room with their equipment in front of them, making sure everything was still running as it should. 

Blaine, Simon, Leo, and Trystan were upstairs changing. 

In the living room, Liam sat next to Alia, both of them silent; his leg bounced anxiously while she drummed her fingers against her thighs. 

Liam’s mind was a storm of thoughts and his emotions were no better. The guys would be leaving shortly for Drakovia and he’d be left there … waiting and hoping they returned with Croía in tow. 

“Are you nervous?” Alia whispered beside him. “I’m nervous. I kind of want to throw up.” 

Liam kept his gaze straight ahead as he reached over and patted her leg in a poor attempt for comfort. “It’ll be ok,” he said with a resigned nod. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. 

“Well, one thing is for sure,” Blaine’s voice sounded from the stairs, “I can wear the fuck out of a tux.”

Liam and Alia both turned to see Blaine walking down the stairs, dressed in a sleek black tuxedo and carrying a mask. Alia stood and moved toward him with a grin. “Of course you can, baby,” she chuckled, reaching up and adjusting his black silk bow tie when he hit the bottom of the stairs. 

“What about me?” Simon drawled.

Alia glanced up to see Simon and Leo, both in similar attire, both holding their masks. “Looking snazzy.” 

A moment later, Trystan appeared; he was dressed in black dress pants, a black shirt, and a black suit jacket. “Then we have Bond here,” Leo quipped. 

“I’m not going into the ball,” Trystan said as he buttoned his jacket. “I don’t need the penguin suit.”

“Why dress up at all?” Simon asked.

“I may be sneaking in to break my sister out, but I’m still going to look good doing it,” Trystan smirked as he tugged the lapels of his jacket. 

“Here,” Amalas said, approaching them as they huddled in the living room. “Your earpieces. Put them in so I know they’re working.” She handed them a small device and they each placed them in one ear; they were clear and so small they were practically invisible. Amalas turned to where Olivia was standing outside on the back deck and gave a thumbs up. 

“Hey, assholes,” her voice crackled in each of their ears. “You’re all looking very debonair.” 

The guys chuckled with nods. “They’re working,” Trystan said. 

“They’re equipped with a tracker,” Amalas explained as Olivia came back inside. “Leave them in and I’ll keep checking throughout your drive to make sure they’re still working.” 

They all nodded again. 

“And I’ve checked to verify your aliases are still on the guest list, which they are,” Amalas said. “I’ll check again when you arrive just to be sure we don’t have any surprises.”

“You guys have your masks?” Trystan asked. Blaine, Simon, and Leo held them up. “Alright …” He glanced at his watch: 4:30 p.m. The drive was an hour, give or take, and the ball started at six. “Let’s head out.” 

Everyone blew out a collective breath. 

Amalas and Olivia wished them luck and walked away. 

Blaine and Alia stepped aside, and she threw her arms around him.

Liam walked up to Leo and shook his hand before they pulled one another into a brotherly embrace. “Stay safe,” he whispered.

“You know me,” Leo stepped back with a small grin. “See you soon.” He turned and walked out the door. 

Simon clapped Liam’s shoulder before following Leo outside. Trystan approached him a moment later and held his hand out. “Try not to wear a path in the carpet with your pacing,” he joked as they shook hands. 

Liam offered a halfhearted smile and nodded. “Be safe.” 

Trystan turned and walked out the door as Blaine stepped up to Liam. “You good?”

“Not really,” Liam answered truthfully.

“We’ll be back with her before you know it,” Blaine said before he held a fist out to him. The two went through their playful handshake routine before clapping one another’s shoulders. “Remember what I said. Head up, brother.” 

Liam and Alia followed Blaine outside, stopping on the front porch; he gave Alia one last kiss before moving to the vehicle. He slid into the backseat and tossed them one last wave before shutting the door. 

They held their breath as the SUV pulled away, and they both threw up a silent prayer as they watched it disappear down the driveway.

***************************************

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[cheriecelestial]

Luminary Pt.1

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yan Emperor!OC X Swordmaster!OC

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ yandere thoughts. hurt/no comfort. angst. mentions of violence and character death. lovers to enemies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Reposting a very old piece post editing (not really lol). According to my old a/n this was “very 3am spontaneous writing” meaning the idea was spontaneous not the process. Very manhwa-esque historical plot ig. Please listen to Joel Sunny’s Luminary for the whole experience. like always COMMENT LIKE & REBLOG (☆≧▽^)

Pt.2

Ceaseless noblesse chatter, clinking of glasses and rustling of ball gowns blurred into an unintelligible myriad of sounds. Cecily massaged the bridge of her nose in an attempt to calm the pulsating migraine in her forehead. As much as she loved dressing up on her own accord and dancing, she felt much repulsion to high society. Whosoever had compared high society to a sandalwood tree must’ve been a wise person - exquisite and ambrosial smelling but intertwined with serpents waiting to pounce. Her sharp gaze, reminiscent of a relentless hunter, swept the expanse of ballroom to locate her target attendee. He wasn’t here, not yet at least. But he was expected to be here soon, after all what king doesn’t show up to the party he hosted in his own honour ?

Everything the room exuded an elite air of grandeur. Golden tendrils resembling vines creeping up the wall and colluding in a labyrinthine pattern of flowers and leaves against the stained glass ceilings. Lush roses filled each vase placed exactly five meters apart from each other. In the centre of the dome were three collinear alchemy powered faux stars, the centre attraction and the nominative factor of the ballroom — the Syzygy Hall. Leaning against the stone wall, the crisp night air fills her lungs while the stars twinkle in the dark, velvety sky, and she watched them with a nostalgic sense of appreciation. The flashing memories of her stargazing in this very hall with a certain gifted mage tugged harshly on her heart stings but she forced herself to shun them and focus on the task ahead.

Cecily shifted her attention to the noblemen and women drift across the smooth marble floors like clockwork nutcrackers in grandfather clocks. It all looked so beautiful and for the lack of a better word, rich. A part of her would’ve wanted to join to the festivities had her heart not drowned in waves of indignation for the host. But then as having danced her fair share of high society parties — she knew of the incessant debauchery, corruption and vicious yet sugarcoated calumny at the core of this diamond and silk adorned marvel. Nobility was a word that evoked images of artifice, undeserved riches, wastefulness and textbook narcissism. Albeit belonging to the pinnacle of non-royal nobility — Cecily’s lineage was both a blessing and a curse. As the daughter of one of the three dukes in the empire and the daughter and successor of the continent’s finest swordsman , Carlisle Reginald, Cecily was taught to be wary of desperate social climber with saccharine laced tongues at a young age. Just the thought of her family flared the inferno of negative feelings further.

“This far behind enemy lines ? Can’t tell if it’s brave, audacious or plain stupid.” Cecily rolled her eyes at the new admission. “What would you know anything about bravery Marcellus ?” The red haired paladin flinched at the woman using his full name and bit his tongue to restrain himself from answering her verbal jabs.

“I did what I had to do” He muttered quietly with his gaze fixed on the floor as if it was the most scintillating creation known to mankind. “You mean leaving your men to die mid-battle and defecting to the enemy’s side ?” Cecily scoffed at his confession. She couldn’t help be reminded of the past when they were trainee knights and how they were a symbol of valour and justice. The nights they spent at taverns celebrating after successfully completing missions and training. Cecily couldn’t pinpoint when everything changed and when people she knew digressed beyond recognition but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Marcel’s words were slow to come out but he sighed and answered, “I merely chose the winning side . Unlike you, I have a sense of self preservation.”

“Where I’m from , we call it cowardice”

“Probably why that place burnt to the ground,”Marcel was hit with a sense of instant regret the second those words left his mouth. He muttered a quick apology as if that ever solved anything .

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. Genuine care doesn’t suit the self-serving likes of you.” Cecily spat out with anger laced in her seemingly calm tone. Had it been some other place with someone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to draw her sword. Knowing her temper, he saw fit to change the topic of the conversation, “ It’s a fine dress you’re wearing. But I have to say - had I not known better I’d say it was a wedding gown. One refined enough for a duke’s daughter”

“It is a wedding gown. I just repurposed it since I don’t need it anymore and my other gowns were burnt along with my house. I’m sure you remember, you were there.”Cecily spoke in a monotone as she absentmindedly fiddled with the lace trimmings of her dress and the silver corsage on her wrist.

Marcel gulped at the realisation and looked away to the sea of jolly nobility dancing their evening away but he still couldn’t seem to shake off the chills floating in the air. Luck truly wasn’t on his side today “I know it was a purely political arrangement but Cedric was a good man. You have my condolences.”

His words evoked a humourless laugh from Cecily. Just how shameless could he be ? Leading the campaign that killed her fiancé and still have the guts to offer his sympathies.

“Losing a fiancé ? I’m sure you know what that’s like. Considering how you let Lucia Arden die just to save your own skin.”

Cecily remembered the sweet and gentle field medic who stopped at nothing to consistently heal her comrades and boost her fellow knights’ morale with her encouraging words. And she also remembered watching the radiant light leave her eyes and her skin turn frigid pale after Marcel defected and ambushed his own squadron. Cecily and Marcel were the closest of friends, maybe that’s why his betrayal stung so much. Had someone told about Marcel’s betrayal to her younger self from two years ago, she would’ve laughed at them and wonder if they lost their mind.

“What happened to her was regrettable. I asked her to join me. But she refused. Because she was -” so loyal to you, is what he wanted to say but something told him that not completely the sentence would serve him better. Cecily didn’t respond to him nor did she look at him. Marcel’s gaze fell to her fist which had clenched so tight that her knuckles were turning white.

“I tried you know. I really tried to convince her. That was more what I should’ve done considering what her family did to Genevieve—” despite his attempts to mask his emotions, venomous contempt seeped into his voice.“Lucia wasn’t her family. She didn’t know. She had no part in it.” Cecily countered firmly.

“She was going to be a mother ! And they—”Marcel swallowed thickly, unable to continue. Cecily sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. Genevieve - the feisty barmaid at their favourite tavern who managed to capture Marcel’s heart and subsequently died a tragic death the hands of the Marquis Arden who couldn’t bear the disgrace of his daughter’s fiancé choosing a destitute orphaned commoner over his well-bred aristocratic daughter.

“What happened to her was unjust, but that doesn’t justify your treachery. You let your own men die. The very men that swore loyalty to you. The ones that fought, ate and bled by your side.” Cecily eyed him with simmering hatred. Marcel looked uncharacteristically startled for a moment by the her disdain but covered it up quickly. Silvers of guilt flashed in his eyes when he realised that even if he had managed to secure a future for himself as the commander general of the new king’s knights, he lost something truly important to him. The past him would’ve really hated him now.

“Of all people I thought you’d know what it’s like to lose the one you love the most. But in hindsight, you’re probably worse off than me. I’m sure you know, he isn’t what he used to be. The King’s scouts have been looking for you and the other rebels . You should leave before he sees you.” Warning her was the most he could do for her now. He had sworn loyalty to the new king but standing in front of his childhood friend - he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of conflict.

“Why ? Is he planning to send me and my men to the gallows ?” Cecily scoffed as if impressed that the king was putting in so much effort to locate her. “Your men ? Yes. You ? No. Corrupted or not, not even he could get himself to kill the woman he loves so dearly. But I’m positive whatever his plans for you are, would make you wish that he sent you to the gallows instead. He won’t kill you but beware— he won’t be soft either. He’s changed beyond recognition.”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on,”she muttered to herself as she watched Marcel vanish from her side and melt into the sea of guests.

For a moment the entire ballroom stilled and she knew he was here. Her eyes swept the length of the ballroom till she met the gaze of the devil himself. Unlike what he used to wear when she knew him, he donned the most lavish robes and jewels she’d seen on a person. His unruly platinum hair were styled perfect to accentuate his looks. The crystalline vivid blue eyes she fell in love with were replaced by a sinister shade of ruby red. He stared intently at her, it is as if his eyes intended to pierce her skin and rip out her soul. Her stomach twisted and the chill in the air sent goosebumps down her neck and back. He never looked more glorious. The corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile as he made his way through the crowd. Her breath shallowed with each step that he took towards her.

“Duchess Reginald. It truly is you and here I thought my senses were deceiving me.” Cecily flinched at the title knowing full well that she never got to ceremoniously inherit the title since the previous Duke died at the emperor’s sword following the coup d’état and the estate was burned to a crisp not too long ago. His gentle expression of adoration cut off air from her lungs and she felt as though the string of pearls around her neck turned into a noose. She wanted to scream, to cry, to seek retribution for all the havoc he wrecked but swallowing her emotions down she placed her hand on her heart and bowed lightly,“Glory and blessings upon the rising sun of the Asterin empire,” Cecily heard melodious laughter as response to her words. Her heart dropped from the sheer impact. Cecily Reginald was a creature of pure control and the idea of losing control, especially just by his mere presence, was offensive to her. Her heart burst into multitude of emotions as she tried to rein them and stay calm.

“And I never thought I’d see you bow. But then, bowing isn’t always submission. Now is it, my dearest Cecily ?” Electricity coursed her veins at the way her name rolled off his tongue in the same tender fashion as he used to when they were younger. He’s changed beyond recognition, Marcel’s words ringed in her ears. Cecily didn���t want to give him the satisfaction of eliciting a reaction so she shifted her gaze away. Much to her dismay, her refusal just swelled his need to provoke her further .

“Please don’t shy away duchess. It’s a glorious party, would you be so kind to grant me the honour of a dance ?” The king outstretched his hand towards her with seemingly innocent intent. The emperor’s first dance of the evening, an action that symbolised winning the favour of the emperor. Which was why — traditionally it was done between courting, betrothed or wedded couples. After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand and was guided to the centre of the dance floor. The king placed a hand on her waist and interlaced his other hand with hers. The position seemed so natural to them like two pieces of a puzzle that were created to fit together. He actioned the orchestra and the waltz began without a hitch as the band of musicians weaved pleasant melodies into the air.

“You look ravishing my dearest.” Cecily’s breath hitched as the king tugged on her waist, pulling her closer. His smirk widened in satisfaction at her visceral reaction. “Thank you your majesty.” She looked at him with her eyes betraying traces of emotion even though she was restraining herself to her best capacity. But the memory of his touch still fills her heart with longing but she still hated how much the sensation excites her.

“I was informed that troops stationed north of Demaris were brutally slaughtered by the rebel forces spearheaded by a certain raven haired general. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you duchess ?” Cecily’s face hardened and she replied in a sharp tone,“Depends on why those troops were present in the first place your majesty.” The king’s troops were sent to forcefully evict war immigrants that were rendered homeless by the conquests of the previous emperor since he regarded them as a political liability. The villagers were kind enough to house some of the rebels in exchange for protection against the monsters near the border.

Vivacious laughter bubbles from his chest and he responded ,“Very well dearest. And please, drop the formalities. Call me by my name. Your majesty feels unnatural.” She knew provoking him any more than necessary would only spell trouble for it. Her scheme had to work out as planned. “Atticus,” she breathed out with much difficulty. Saying his name was a tougher task than she had initially thought. A pleased smirk made its way onto his lips, leaving Cecily feeling as if she had lost.

“I know blue is your colour but I have to admit, you look utterly angelic in white. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on. What a fine bride you would make.”

Under different circumstances, she would’ve blushed and accepted the compliment graciously. Cecily felt a strange feeling of melancholy and what ifs shrouded her. She was so determined before coming here and she couldn’t afford letting her purpose dissolve just because she was holding onto the ghost of the man she loved.

“What use is beauty when you’re cursed with rotten luck the way I am. I have two dead fiancés on my tab already.” She laughed humorouslessly and eyed him with an insinuating sharpness. Atticus smiled with his evergreen charm before continuing knowingly ,“ Hmm. Maybe it’s a sign from the goddess of marriage that those men and you weren’t meant to be .”

Cecily arched her brow at his revelation. Is that what he was trying to paint them as ? Twists of fate ? She may not have loved either of them but they weren’t deserving of the end that befell them. “I know you’ve taken many aliases in your lifetime but goddess of marriage ? That’s a new one your majesty.” Atticus’ mocking clearly struck a nerve. She half expected him to take offence to her words but instead he looked at her in bemusement.

He clicked his tongue in a ‘ah’ gesture and suggested ,” Well you know what they say m’lady. Third time’s a charm .” Cecily knew exactly what he was implying but she didn’t want to grant him an ounce of satisfaction by giving him a favourable reaction .

“Unfortunately your majesty, I am above wedding kinslayers and dark magic practitioners .” She scowled at him as if testing to see if he had even an ounce of conscience intact . Atticus’ smile faltered and there was a brief flicker of discomfort in him as the implications of her words sunk in. His eyes narrowed slightly at her reaction.

“Ces I —,” but before he could respond Cecily cut him off ,“ And even if they had it coming . It doesn’t change the fact that you killed my father.” Memory of the pain of finding out about her father’s death on accounts of treason was clear as day in her heart. Carlisle Reginald was many things but not a traitor. He was so loyal to the crown that there were times when she resented him for choosing his duty over his own family.

Atticus visibly grimaced and his eyes turned to icy resentment ,“ The same father that abused you and caused you unimaginable pain in the name of training ? The same father who burnt the side of your face to destroy any chance of marriage because noblemen don’t wed women with scars ? The same father that nearly pushed you to end your life because you couldn’t handle the mantle of becoming the next swordsmaster ? Do you truly resent me for it my dearest ?” Cecily felt her throat tighten with emotion. She glanced away as though trying to think of an answer. There is no right answer to that question.

“ I don’t but —,” She admitted, her eyes still fixated on the corners of the room ,“ What about my Silas? Why did you kill him ? He looked up to you. He chose to pursue alchemy over swordsmanship because of you. He was a child . He didn’t deserve it.” The night her father died, the king’s men burnt her family estate to the ground and her brother with it.

Atticus stared at her for a couple of seconds before letting out a pained sigh ,“ My love, you must believe me. I never intended to put Silas in harm’s way . I just wanted to get rid of the duke because he was the only one standing between me and the throne. I was sure that Si would be at the academy. But unfortunately he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. If it provides any solace just know I had the informants and soldiers who failed to convey that Silas was in there executed .”

There were many things she wanted to say, to vent her frustration and anger but when the time came - her grief was too severe to be expressed in words so she just looked at him, hoping he’d see how much he made her suffer. Atticus tore his gaze away from hers and clenched his jaw as if keeping himself from saying or doing things that would just worsen their situation. Uncomfortable silence befell them as they continued to dance. For the first time she realised, that they were is a ballroom filled with people. The world seemed to have dissolved into nothingness when it came to Atticus but now she was starting to feel the weight of the other guests’ curious stares and whispers. Of course rumours would make their way across high society at the speed of lightning. Two star crossed lovers forced on opposite sides by fate. Cecily and Atticus had love, one for the ages but one chose the duty to her homeland over love and the other chose power over love. Love had no place in this fight of morality and duty. It was quite a pity really.

“But your crimes don’t end there. You delved into a form of magic that was forbidden for a reason, there is always a cost for power that wicked. Always.” She looked straight into his ruby red eyes. The vibrant blood red swirled in a way that resembled shadows obscuring a ravenous beast lurking underneath.

“Is that why you got engaged my brother ? To dispose of me and make him king ?” Cecily felt the temperature around them fall as Atticus’ eyes shone with a newfound sense of fury. Gone was the sweet and gentle man she knew, instead he was replaced by this - this thing. His fingers twitched where he held her waist as if wanting to tear into her skin.

“Sure. Let’s go with that .”She replied cooly. Logic be damned, she just wanted to shatter the mask he was wearing and truly see what he’d become.

“You think I’d let him have you ? Let him make you his queen ? I‘m so sorry if it hurts you my darling but I will slay any man who thinks he can have you . If you really want to be queen, I could make you this very moment. Just say the word.” For the first time, his suave facade cracked. He sounded almost desperate, so much so that Cecily was tempted to believe that a part of the old him was still in there. Regardless of Cedric somewhat sanctimonious and saintly character, he always lacked the vigour and the ambition it took to become king and most of all - to deserve Atticus’ goddess. Cedric was the only pure blooded prince who showed an inkling of kindness to a bastard of the previous emperor so Atticus granted him the mercy of a quick and painless death. But the idea of him wedding his beloved was beyond blasphemous and filled him with unimaginable rage; making him want to give Cedric a slow and painful death instead.

To him, Cecilia Seraphina Reginald was the closest humanity has attained to godliness. The passion she projected in her art and the fire that burned behind her eyes is enough to drive anyone to insanity . She used the sword as if it was an extension of her own body and where most fought with the crude desperation , every movement of her body was deliberate and precise as if she was floating like a butterfly through the air. With each step, she seemed to move through space and time, transcending the boundaries between ordinary and extraordinary. Each slash and strike was like a paint stroke on canvas, drawing a picture of beauty and grace in motion. Her raven hair striking a beautiful contrast against her emerald eyes . Even when her father burnt the side of her face , it barely obscured her beauty. Atticus had seen her in sickness and in health. At what she considered her worst, to his eyes — she was far more enchanting than any of the excessively powdered noble ladies he’d seen in court . There is something religious about the way he adored her. There never was a God in Atticus's life. No one deserved that title after what life had thrown at him since he was little.

He remembered the first day they met when she fended off the third prince bullying Atticus at their first day at the Royal Academy. She never once discriminated against for being an illegitimate child of the emperor. Atticus was born as a result of acts of cruelty on an elite battle mage of an enemy nation who was taken by the previous emperor as spoils of war. Despite his actions, the emperor never even bothered to officially make her his concubine so Atticus’ status in the Royal Palace was akin to that of a servant’s. Throughout his childhood, he had been a prince solely in name. His entire life, everyone looked at him as if he was some sort of abomination — except her. Despite that the dignified and legendary duke’s only daughter, the lady with the highest status after the empress and princesses themselves, when faced disapproval for befriending the emperor’s bastard, she never once turned her back on him. And not necessarily because she was kind but because it was the right thing to do. Cecily was first person in Atticus’ life who made him believe that he was worth being treated as a human.

“What have you become Atticus ? We could’ve—”

“We could’ve what exactly ? Huh ? There was no other way. And you know it.” Atticus spat out through gritted teeth, a look of abject misery flashed by Cecily’s face. He was right, unless there had been some great power intervention there was no way he could become king. It didn’t matter if the most elite swordsmaster or the nouveau rich nobles that supported him, he could never get past the old nobility and the six legitimate pure blooded princes.

“What is worth it ?” She asked with her words dying by the end of the sentence. For a moment, she felt as though she was back when they were kids and how he would talk about making them pay. No rebels or tyrants, no duty or thirst for power — just as Ces and Atty .

Something in Atticus’ snapped as he gripped her wrist tighter,“ Better than anything I ever imagined. They always acted so high and mighty, you should’ve seen how they grovelled and begged . It was worth it, all of it.”

“Was it worth losing me ?” Cecily knew she shouldn’t have asked something she didn’t want him to answer. She knew she shouldn’t have crossed that line. She shouldn’t have because she knew the answer. But she had to— in order to move on, to let him go, to fulfil her duty and destiny.

“I haven’t lost you” Out of all the responses he could’ve given , this was the least expected. Did he truly believe that ? Cecily searched his face for any signs of fallacy or trickery but found none. Her mouth fell open in disbelief and after composing herself she asked ,“ What makes you say that ?”

“The way I feel for you.” He answered without even skipping a beat. Cecily scoffed internally, the way he felt for her ? What a jest. It was common knowledge that the starting price for dark magic is a person’s humanity. Dark magicians were known to not be able to feel anything let alone remorse or guilt .

“That’s not true. You can’t feel anything.” She jeered at him. Atticus didn’t respond and twirled and lifted her into the air in accordance to the rhythm of the waltz. His lack of reaction almost made her think that he didn’t hear what she said, she opened her mouth to say that again but was cut off by his reply ,“Contrary to popular beliefs my darling , dark magic doesn’t completely deprive a person of all emotion. It merely diminishes emotions that were present in silvers and amplifies the most emotions felt by the person. In short, the user becomes absolutely sure of what they feel and what they want. Anger becomes rage , sadness becomes despair , fear becomes horror and love becomes –” As he spoke, he pressed his lips against her hand. She can feel the heat of his breath in the centre of her palm ,“ — unbridled obsession.” Cecily breath hitched as he moved his lips up her wrist to her palm again, tracing her veins with his lips.

"Pray tell, is that how it went ? Your barter of soul with a devil for dominion only to find yourself upon the throne, consumed by anguish not because you killed your family but rather by the realization that your affection for me would impede your ambitions ?"

Atticus got closer to her. His eyes were locked on hers, and his lips had a slight twitch to them. Lust. He was never the type to give into such base urges, but in the her presence - he craved her. A part of him hated this feeling even more than her tormenting comments. If only he could kill her and rid himself of this weakness of the flesh. “You aren’t far from it . You know I never understood the appeal my father saw in my mother but I guess I do see it now. Fiesty enemy general that just refuses to concede and all.”

“And here I thought you said you were never going to be anything like your father. I guess you kings are doomed to repeat failures of your predecessors. After all the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He absentmindedly hummed in response to her words as if neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His eyes were fixated on his thumb caressing her wrist, Cecily noticed it and tilted her head to her side as if silently asking ‘what’re you thinking ?’

“You aren’t wrong my darling. Maybe I am the same as him. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I have everything I wanted. Except for a couple things and I don’t intend on stopping until I’ve got them.” Atticus’ eyes gleamed with a glint of great impending danger. He paused for a second as if debating whether he should disclose his plans or not but in the festive atmosphere decided the former. “You’re quite a stubborn little thing you know. I wonder if I were to incapacitate you from wielding the blade ever again, would your resolve shatter ? All the princes are dead, there’s no one to succeed me. I’ve made sure of it. Who would you crown king after me ?” He wondered if he chopped her wrists off so that she couldn’t use her sword again, would she stop resisting then ? Or perhaps if he snapped her ankles then maybe she wouldn’t be able to run away ?

“Incapacitate me ? You think you could do that ?” Albeit Cecily knew she was playing with fire, she wanted to see to what limits she could provoke him before he took extreme measures. They were playing a dangerous game. Both were waiting for the other to make a mistake, to lose their cool and to drop the civil facade and settle the score .

Others might see Atticus as this stone cold man with no feelings, but his heart was beating loud and clear in his chest, seemingly for one purpose. He hoped that his emotional conflict would clear out once he made the deal but it didn’t help. Not one bit. He often found his eyes subconsciously searching for the familiar figure in the crowds of people he’d address every day, wanting nothing more than to reach out and have her with him again. The scent of her skin and the light lavender fragrance haunted him as he tried to sleep, the vivid image of her following him in his dreams. If it were up to him, he’d drag her to the church alter this very moment and make good on the wedding gown she was wearing. He knew she wore that to mock his guilty conscience, that is if he had any left.

“I have my knights stationed at every corner of the ballroom. One action and they’ll attack.”

“You think fresh recruits could even hold a candle against a swordmaster ?” She was right, no matter how trained they would never able to best her. The only one who stood a chance against her skill was he himself. No one else.

He chuckled at her spirit, it was one of the things he adored most about her. “No. Not really.” Cecily smiled with a victorious expression but at the same time she knew if he were to use his magic, things were bound to get messy. Although not their own, but much blood would be spilt and in a room full of the empire’s finest — it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

a/n 2.0 – After reading this my current writing seems so crappy wtf. I guess there is a reason this took three months to write. Tho good to know I couldn’t articulate my thoughts well enough to make a respectable plot even back then. Sorry for the abrupt ending, tumblr kept glitching so I had to split it in two. I’ll upload pt.2 in a week.

[divinemare]

Cruel Cauldron

✎ᝰ┆azriel x oc

ᝰ┆part one

part two

this has been literally on my mind FOREVER, to give you a little introduction, an arrange marriage between an oc princess and our lovely shadowsinger, where they ofc hate each others guts.

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes in advance!

—— —͙ – -

When her feet touched the ground, Karina felt the racing urge to throw up overcome her.

“Don’t disappoint me any further, Karina,” her mother’s words echoed in her mind, making her stand extra tall and keep her chin up even tho the female could not see her now.

“I’m gonna make you pay for this, mother,” she thought to herself, feeling her blood run hot and her breath catching as she took in the whole situation of what her life had become in the last weeks.

And all for a stupid, Cauldron-fucking-damned bond.

៚ ·

Three weeks ago…

Anthra was one of the mightiest kingdoms in all the Continent, yet not the mightiest. And that had always been a bother to her mother, Queen Verena Basdearg of Anthra. A ruthless female who had always been jealous of the mighty Hybern and Prythian realms.

Anthra, her homeland, consistent of three principal lands:

The Black Land, was where the finest clothes, and the most delicious crops would come from.

The Silver Land; it was known for its concentration of mines: the rarest, most precious jewels came from there, as well as the gold and silver and bronze.

And finally, the Red Land. Where all the most terrible, brutal soldiers where forged in, hence the name; red as the blood staining its floors.

And all three of them answered to the Imperial Queen. 

Which, also happened to be her mother, one of the most feared females in the Continent.

Princess Karina Basdearg of Anthra, Second Daughter, Princess of the Valley and the Silver Land. Was anything but what a princess was expected to be if only when…: gracious —if only while her mother stared her way—, polite —whenever she actually liked the person she had to treat with, or her mother was in ears length. Not to mention that breathtakingly gorgeous as well —that she always was—, or so the lords and nobles always loved to tell her whenever they were so desperately trying to get her favor.

Now she was getting ready to humor them again, in her mother’s monthly grand dinner with the lords of the three lands. Brushing her brown black hair and testing which color of tint would best suit her dark olive skin tone.

Two soft knocks on the oak doors of her room made her stare into its direction from her mirror, and so she only bothered to mutter a ‘come in’, before a female poked her head into the room.

“Are you ready?” Her sister asked in the soft cool tone of her voice.

Before her was Princess Arisa Basdearg of Anthra, First Daughter and Heir to the Imperial Throne, Crown Princess.

They shared several physical aspects; like their hair and their skin and their button noses. Yet Arisa’s features were sharper, more grown, either for 200 years of difference between the two of them, of the burdens it carried that Karina would never understand. As well as the gemstone green eyes that had once belonged to their father, unlike the honey amber eyes Karina had inherited from their mother.

And then there was also the fact that, Arisa was everything Karina was not; actually polite, actually gracious, actually fit for a Queen.

Arisa was the success, while she was always meant to be the disappointment. But that never actually bothered her tho, it took one look at her big sister to know she never wanted to carry the burdens Arisa did.

“Not yet,” she replied with a sigh, brushing her thick eyebrows with a little brush.

Arisa smiled playfully through the mirror, and Karina lifted one of her now perfectly brushed eyebrows at her sister.

“Maxon came to visit.”

Karina’s eyes instantly sparkled at the mention of the name, but keeping her best composure in front of her sister, she left the brush calmly on the table and turned to look at the female with an unbothered eyebrow up.

“Did he, now?”

Arisa nodded, and with a smile, added: “So did Bastian and Fiona,” at that, Karina didn’t have it in her not to smile, and she jumped out of her sit and ran out of her bedchamber, and into the long halls of the palace. “Karina, wait, don’t run!” Her sister’s voice echoed behind her.

She only stoped running once she was at the entrance of the dinning hall, where every month the grand dinners were held. Karina gathered some air and fixed her dress just in case her mother was already inside. She gave a look to the guards, and they, ever so discreetly, nodded their approval before opening the doors.

The oak cracked as the dinning hall’s chandelier lights greeted her entrance, and all heads already present turned to look at the Princess who had just arrived.

Karina’s eyes, tho, only looked for three specific pairs once it was obvious her mother was still not there, and when hers found the browns she had been looking for, her smile stretched and she ever so gracefully nodded to the lords that made a curtsy for her, then walked as fast as she could without looking too un-mannered towards the already opened arms and bright smile of Maxon Hatchett.

“Your Highness,” the male inclined his head, and as soon as he was up, Karina threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

She had missed his brown eyes and dirty blond curly hair, his dimpled smile, his sun-kissed skin, his strong arms and wide shoulders. Maxon Hatchett was truly a male that attracted looks everywhere he went. But mostly, she had missed her best friend, and the only guy that made her heart jump with excitement.

Maxon laugh lowly, the sound brushing Karina’s shoulder, and then murmured, in a soft, low voice:

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Liar,” she said in a whisper. “You would’ve written if that were true.”

“I’m afraid that was my fault, cousin, I kept him rather busy,” when Karina parted from Maxon’s hug, her smile immediately grew at the sight of Bastian Basdearg.

Karina hugged the male with the shoulder-length black hair, the one with whom she shared their olive dark skin and honey amber eyes, who towered her for over a foot for how tall that motherfucker was, her cousin Bastian, as tightly as she had hugged the male before him, and then pushed him away to eagerly look for the auburn hair of…

“There’s no way you’ve grown this much,” she laughed at the sight of the little Fiona Basdearg already not so…little.

Both females smiled and hugged each other, while Karina complimented her other cousin over and over again.

“What are you all doing here, I thought you two were busy in the Red Land.”

As part of the Imperial family, and the only other one in the line of success since her father died leaving her mother with no more heirs, Bastian had inherited the Red Land from his mother: her mother’s only living sister. While Fiona, even tho she was still too young to formally become Princess according to their laws, was to inherit the Black Lands from her father: her mother’s only living brother.

There had been 6 siblings in her mother’s line, now there were only three. Karina had heard of one of them, the other two; she hadn’t even bothered to ask.

“Well, we were, but…” Bastian started, but the words got cut off from him when the oak doors of the dinning hall opened again with their loud creak, and inside came Queen Verena Basdearg.

Everyone instantly curtsied, and Karina couldn’t help but raise her eyes to meet her mother’s cold stare.

That’s why she hated to have her mother’s eyes; while honey amber was supposed to be such a warm color, Verena Basdearg made sure to turn it colder than any icy blue.

Arisa came trailing their mother’s back like the good Crown Princess she was, and Karina gave her sister a questioning look when the room filled in with more tension than usual, only for Arisa to advert her gaze from her, telling Karina she —and, mercifully, Fiona too—, seemed to be the only one left in oblivion there.

But when her mother opened her mouth, when the venomous tongue rolled to spat sharp words, Karina fell in absolute shock with each and every sentence.

“I hope someone here is ready to tell me why has Prythian declared war, and what are we gonna do to wipe them off of this Continent if it so happens to be the case.”

៚ ·

Karina almost dropped the glass liquor cup she had just grabbed when she heard her mother’s statement.

Prythian had what? And they were going to do what?

On a normal setting, Karina would’ve struggled not to laugh, because even tho they had one of the most powerful armies in the Continent, that their soldiers were known for their brutality and efficiency, and they counted with a large amount of wealth and powerful people, they had always been some steps behind Prythian, behind the powerful High Lords and the great Seven Courts.

But now, after they had gone into a war with not other than Hybern…

The repercussions of a war could leave the strongest of kingdoms in vulnerability and danger, and Prythian, as of right now, wouldn’t survive another war with another powerful and healthy enemy.

“What, in the name of the Mother, is going on,” she asked in a low whisper to Maxon when everyone else was sitting at the table, discussing the supposed offense Prythian had committed against Anthra, while they stayed in a corner watching everything unfold. Fiona sat at their feet with a bored look on her freckled face, and the curls of her red hair falling in her soft olive skin.

Maxon was the second son of the Red Land Lord, she was the second princess, and Fiona was not even a princess yet, they weren’t needed in the big discussions yet, leaving them at the sideways at all times.

It had been why Maxon and Karina had gotten along so quickly centuries ago, they both understood each other, as they both lived under their siblings shadows.

“You can thank this all to my wonderful cousin,” he sighed, shaking his head, while Karina furrowed her eyebrows together.

“What does Yvett have to do with this?”

“She got killed,” he said it so nonchalantly that it took Karina a moment to actually process the words, and almost spit out the liquor in her mouth when she did.

“What?!” She murmured loudly, cleaning the few drops that fell on her chin with her wrist.

“Remember that guy I told you she ran away with?” Of course she remembered, it had been the biggest scandal in court for months.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well he was just as awful as her. The son of an apparently really importar member of the Court of Nightmares. She got in deep shit trouble and got what she deserved at the end.”

“That’s…” Karina stared at the male with a frown. “The most vague explanation I’ve ever heard.”

“I didn’t asked for much detail,” Maxon lifted an uninterested shoulder, and Karina rolled her eyes.

The death of Yvett wouldn’t have presented such a big conflict if she didn’t happen to also be the daughter of the Queen’s Alhara; a group of the five most rewarded and trusted soldiers of the Imperial Guard. And her mother’s oldest —and only— friend.

“Fucking hell,” she exhaled a long breath, and Maxon nodded with a sigh of his own.

“Fucking hell indeed.”

៚ ·

“Please tell me mother is not going to do something outrageous,” once dinner was over and everyone was sent to their chambers to rest, the Basdearg sisters instead made their way to the palace gardens for a late night walk under the beautiful moon.

Arisa sighed, giving Karina a bad impression already.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated? It’s not, really. You and I both knew Yvette, outside this lands that protected her for her mother’s rank, sooner or later she was going to get herself killed, that bitch was despicable.”

“Karina!” Her sister reprimanded, but did not corrected her, as she knew her words were true.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“You know mother,” Arisa said with another sigh, and Karina clicked her tongue in response.

“Mother has been looking for an excuse to put a spike on half of Prythian High Lords to put us above them.”

When Karina finished spitting her words, she looked at her sister and noticed the tiredness and wariness in her eyes, and sighed putting her arm around the female’s. Her sister was constantly working, constantly worrying, and Karina hated to see her so worked up.

“How’s Taj? Haven’t seen him today.”

Taj was her sister’s husband, they had been together for already 400 years, and were one of the only marriages in the history of their family that had been actually out of love.

They had been lucky when they met centuries ago in one of her sisters political trips around the Continent, he was a noble from another kingdom, and they had fallen madly and annoyingly in love.

In other words, they could be described as the perfect royal love fantasy, a happy, thriving couple. Now that Karina did envied.

Their mother had been so proud Arisa had secured a strong alliance, yet another thing she did unintentionally perfect. While the only person Karina had ever wanted had been never enough to please her mother. Even if Maxon was the son of a Lord, he wouldn’t give her mother more power, and that was enough for the Queen to disapprove of any kind of affection her daughter felt for the male.

“He’s…busy, organizing a trip,” Arisa said without looking at her.

Karina lifted an eyebrow, noticing the faint shimmer in her sister’s green eyes and smiling sideways.

“Aha…”

“And…” The Crown Princess sighed.

“And…” Her younger sister repeated.

Arisa stoped walking and took a deep breath, when they were face to face, Karina noticed the actual glow on the other princess’ eyes that spoke loudly with hope and excitement.

“We want to try to have a baby again.”

They had been trying to produce an heir for 300 hundred years now. And a century ago her sister had finally gotten pregnant, only to soon after have a miscarriage and lose the baby. They had stoped trying since then, recovering from the heartbreak.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, sis, but doesn’t your husband have to be, you know, here, to try for that baby?” Arisa laughed melodiously, and grabbed her sister’s arm again to resume their walk.

“He’s been busy finding Emeraya, have you heard of her?”

Emeraya was a very, very ancient healer who dedicated her life to helping fae females to have babies, since for them it was more easy to live 500 years than to have a baby in that time.

“Oh, Ari,” Karina hugged her sister tightly, while her heart murmured a prayer to the Mother and Cauldron to give her sister what she so much deserved. “You’ll have a family soon, I know it.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything,” Karina smiled, leaving her sister’s embrace to look her in the eyes.

“We want to leave in three days time. But mother wanted me to go to Prythian to reunite with the High Lord of the Night Court. Apparently he requested an audience, maybe to try and make peace with our mother.”

“What a fool,” Karina snorted a laugh.

Of course she knew Rhysand. And some other High Lords of Prythian. But, as Rhysand was her mother’s least favorite of all seven of them, Karina had made him her favorite.

“You want me to go in your place?” She sighed, lifting a knowing eyebrow.

“Please?”

Rhysand was fun to be with, other members of his Court? Not so much. That male named Kier was one of those males you couldn’t help but want to throw up just thinking about him. And that Shadowsinger? Mother above, what a total waste of that much beauty.

“Ok. I’ll go,” she smiled tightly, but her wariness wore off when she saw Arisa’s bright smile.

“Thank you so much, Karina,” the oldest hugged her little sister, and Karina swallowed her sigh.

“Oh don’t think this is free, sis, this is going to cost you. Big time. I expect retribution after all this, in pretty dresses and shoes,” Arisa laughed, and took Karina’s hand to guide them both back to the palace.

[ddostoyevskyy]

The Runaway Bride

Kamisato Ayato

Note: Can't believe I'm writing for another fandom again. Anyway, this man is my old main. I'm using my OC's surname (from my BSD fic) as Y/N's surname, just in reference of their origin. Typical arrange marriage trope.... with a twist. He fell first, and fell harder.

Warnings: idk how to label this - angst to comfort or comfort to angst? SEXUAL CONTENT — READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (unprotected sex, hate sex? idk, reader is a lil’ rough with Ayato, biting, overstimulation, edging, size kink, it started rough but it ended soft), afab!reader, enemies to lovers — to enemies (?), Ayato’s pining and an oblivious yet love-starved reader, graphic violence, child abuse, family issues, heavy implied incest (not from reader and Ayato), blood, descriptive murder, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-blaming, self-harming, I DO NOT RECOMMEND ANY OF THESE WARNINGS, THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL, ANY SCENES ARE PURE IMAGINATION.

11.2K words

Part 1, Part 2 (?)

MASTERLIST

"Smile now, my daughter," Father had whispered in your ears with a huge smile on his face, eyeing your whole appearance in the mirror as you shifted and fidget your hands together in discomfort. Wearing a white, long sleeve dress made with the finest silk and your hair tied up in a bun, creating a sharp look on your fluttering eyes. His hands are on your shoulders while he whispers sweet nothings on your ear as you stood in front of the mirror, gradually staring intently on the clear reflection. "They've known my daughter because of her warm smile. We don't want to disappoint the visitors if they ever saw you frowning like that, right?"

You tried your best to smile that doesn't even reached your eyes, though, your father had praised you for showing him his favorite smile of yours and praising you for being a good daughter, you winced when he's finally gone to prepare, almost dropping on your knees for the pressure as you huff, both in annoyance and discomfort.

Being a perfect daughter is difficult —especially, when you can't act fine and proper anymore. All of these stupid acts and conservative etiquettes has you trying to break free from its chains. Too many do's and dont's, the perks of being a noble daughter from an old-fashioned family is exhausting.

You don't even like the silk cloth, nor to smile in front of people. You don't like the way your chest is exposed in the dress your father made you wore, nor the heavy make up planted on your face — you look like a whole different person in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself.

You shakily sighed before calling your assistant — a young man with a fancy hat. He's been with you since you were little and up until now, he stayed loyal to you — and not to your father.

"Yes, My Lady? Do you need anything?" His face is hidden under his hat politely, a gentleman, a young man you would proudly say that you raised from your woman perspectives and feminist. He's dressed in a nice suit with a long, white coat that you eyed as you clicked your fingers before walking towards him.

"You know the drill. Hand me your coat, gentleman." You replied as he obliged, buttoning open his coat as he handed it to you. You thanked him as you turn around to put the coat on yourself, seeing how it perfectly wrapped around your body, covering most the important part you wanted to cover. You stayed it draped over your shoulders, buttoning it close only to where your chest needs to be covered. The color of the coat fits perfectly with the color of your dress.

"That looks good on you, My Lady -" You glance up to him on the mirror and he realized his words, halting as he cleared his throat, "Everything looks good on you, My Lady. Perhaps, you didn't talk the compliment back, so, you are really the person who raised me as I am. Lady Y/N."

He emphasized your name as you finally met his eyes — dark purple and glimmering under the chandelier of the room. You eyed him before raising an eyebrow in agreement. He took of his hat before putting it on top of your head — a signature he always did whenever it was you - the other Y/N — will appear in this kind of situation. Despite of the similarities, he can totally see the differences between.

Between you and your twin.

Despite of your older twin being exactly just the same as you, he could tell the difference after knowing you for a lifetime. Your older twin has the same love of fashion with what you wore, she also held a wide and warm smile to everyone and she always have a mischievous personality you sometimes despised. She has a carefree personality and a warm embrace that you've always feel after the end of the day.

While you, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. You took liking of reading — a scholar in Sumeru Akademiya despite living a fancy life in Schenezaya. Despite of that, both of you have the same taste in music - she had taken a liking of playing the piano and you playing the violin and collaborate with one another. Both of you found the comfort to each other despite being the exact opposite.

"Lower your voice, Mister Fancy Hat." He grunted at the nickname, but he can't hide the small smile that forms on his lips. You glance at him again, taking the opportunity to appreciate his beauty on the mirror. He looks dashing on a suit — which you can only see if both of you are not in Sumeru. His usual clothes are traditional, he's the General of Sumeru after all — an electro vision. His white, long hair is tied up in a high ponytail, making his lavender eyes sharp as ever, his dark skin makes it the complete perfection.

"You can always call me Cyno, My Lady. Now, we are running out of time. Let's go to the camel, shall we?" He offered you his arm and you raised an eyebrow while accepting his offer — wrapping your hand on his arm as he guide you out of the room.

"Isn't it appropriate to let a Lady ride with such an absurd transportation?" You challenged as you stared at him.

"Then, do you want me to fly you in the wind, then?" He spouts back with the same challenging tone and you finally break with a smile — a genuine smile this time.

"How annoying." You mumble, squeezing his arm in a playful manner and you gradually feel a little relieved and content now as you stood by Cyno's side, constantly brushing your shoulder on him to let him know that you're comfortable enough now. This is one of your mannerism that he discovered later on. Perhaps, it is the way the General would make you feel comfortable — by engaging you in a sarcastic conversation and he made sure not to engage you in one of his jokes anymore after you sent him a knife that luckily didn't hit him intentionally after he made a lame joke when you're not in the mood.

Despite being born and raised in a different worlds, it's not hard to get along with him, despite being both an introvert and silent personalities. He's making sure to read the atmosphere around you and he'd known you and your twin better than your father did. He understood the struggles of changing places and adjusting to another scenarios again. Despite that, he respected both siblings and had taken care of both of you — it's like, he's the older brother you both couldn't have.

"My Lady, you know why we're departing to Inazuma, right? I hope, you are aware of what will happen." He muttered and you hummed, every steps you make on the stairs is getting heavier at the thought. After you and your older twin had arrived at a coming of age, your father had been constantly visiting some mansions and families with you tagging along and introducing you to the families' son. Now that your father had invited you again, your older twin decided to switch places so you could experience the outside for a while.

Whenever you are in the mansion, it was you who's present. And, whenever you are suppose to be outdoors, your older twin is the one in presence.

"Yes, I completely understood why we're arriving at Inazuma. But, Cyno," You called out his name as you squeeze his arm in process before you glance at him, "Do my sister, perhaps, know someone from the said city? I don't want to appear clueless now and Sister never told me anything after she came home from Inazuma." You finished as Cyno guided you through the caravan. You hopped inside with his help — his hands find your waist to hoist you up as you stepped on the edge before you sat down inside, few people had offered their greetings and safe for the travel as you genuinely smiled at them.

Cyno followed shortly as he closed the door of the caravan and spoke, "Yes. As the matter of fact, a certain noble family from Inazuma had tried to put ties between your family. They are well known and wealthy, but after a sudden death of the wife's head of the family after your father and the other Lady had visited their respected estate, they immediately cut ties and took blame of the Barouqe clan, as result."

You nodded and hummed. It has been a while after your sister had visited the city Inazuma and you've been curious about what really happened. As far as you know, the wife is already suffering from a disease.... that you've seen in the book and you have an actual idea of the cure. If only, you were the one who tag along with your father before, no other clan would put a burden on your family's name in Inazuma.

"I see." You shortly answered before the door on your caravan swung open and your head shifted into the direction, seeing none other than your older twin in flesh as your eyes slightly widened before hoisting her up as you look outside the caravan, on the process. Thankfully, there are no one around anymore and her face is covered with a silk cloth.

"Sister, you are coming with us?"

"Yes. Father already decided to come back and visit Inazuma again." She removed the covet on her head as she closes the door's caravan, the horse started to move as you sighed.

"You two are not planning to do something reckless, are you not?" She looks at you with those same eyes - a hint of glint and a mischievous smile - something you always see whenever she's plotting and teasing. As much as you adored her, you hated her at the same time as how she's so troublemaker. Despite having the exact appearance, she's mischievous and playful — it's like a whole new side of you whenever you look st her.

"Come on, younger sister! Just imagine this as the game we always play when we were little kids! Remember?" She reminded you, her gloved hands skimming to raise your dress up to expose your thighs and your body stiffened — realizing that you are not the only on inside the caravan — Cyno is here too. "But, this time, we are playing like this with the Head of the clan."

Her lips are dangerously close to your ear as she whispered, sending shivers down to your body and a goosebumps appear on your thighs — that your sister immediately notice and she giggled. You didn't like the idea she said, nor the way her hand has been caressing your skin and biting the lobe of your ear. The disgusting feeling had been bubbling up on your throat.

"I think, that's enough, Lady." Cyno's hand had grasp her to stop her from touching you and almost distinctively, you put a hand on his arm to signal him that's enough, knowing how Cyno's grip can be forceful at times. Your older twin pouted.

"You're no fun, Cyno!" She huffed, "Come on, little Y/N. This will serve as a revenge for ruining our name in Inazuma, no? We won't murder anyone, okay? We just need to be a little more scandalous — yes, scandalous in an elegant way!" She has her arms wrapped around you again as she put her chin on your shoulder, giving your neck a peck as you sighed.

"Who are we gonna p-play with?" You asked, voice cracking. You don't really like that term for it.

"My Lady." Cyno warned you, violet eyes dimmed as he stares at you intently. You gave him a force smile as he look away, jaw clenching as he scoffed and shake his head in disapproval.

"Finally! The Yashiro Commisioner, Head of the Kamisato clan — Kamisato Ayato."

Your mind had strucked a familiarity of the name as you've heard — the Kamisato clan. The infamous clan that runs the Inazuma for years and their high social status had been kept even after the wife of the Head of the clan deceased. You were curious about them as you've seen their name on a list where your family's name also included.

You felt a sudden strike of anxiousness when you arrived at the Inazuma. Despite, departing safely and no avail, you felt like there's a whole disaster that happened. Your hair that is tied up in a bun was now cascading on your back as you continue to run your fingers through your locks as you look around the unfamiliar city of lights. It was full of different street lights and the city seems to be much busy at night.

Agreeing to your older twin is certainly not a good idea.

You felt like backing out. But, when your father's arm had wrapped around your shoulder, you knew you can't go back in Schenezaya without getting any profit here anymore. "Your older sister had definetely told you what we're here for, yes? That time when me and your sister arrived here, it seems like the heir of the Kamisato Clan didn't like your sister's personality. That's why, I told her that maybe, you, my youngest daughter can capture his heart," Your father mumbled in a low tone, voice seeping with such a vile and venomous words.

"So, do your best and be a good girl, alright?" You just nodded quietly, "And, don't forget our little game we played when you were little, my daughter. You could put that in a good use." He gave you a peck on the top of your head as he cups your face and stroked the delicate skin of your cheeks. You wanted to slap his hand away, but it seems like your father's vision had been electrocuting you the moment he touched you and you can't do anything but to follow his instructions.

"My Lady, are you sure about this? I have a bad feeling." Cyno mumbled besides you as you walk behind your father. The Kamisato clan seems to be notified by your departure and your father stated that there going to be a small banquet of celebration for the Barouqe's arrival. You never felt nervous like this, atleast. Not even the soothing sound of Cyno's voice will calm you.

"It's going to be f-fine, Cyno. You're here with me, right?" You assured him — or assured yourself? You aren't even sure enough as you step closer and closer to the Kamisato's estate. A traditional Inazuma's mansion with a small bridge above the clear lake is what caught your attention. The blossoming sakura trees had you knowing that the spring season is getting near.

You seems to be distracted by the view that you didn't notice the people that welcomed you.

"My daughter, come and greet them." Your father's voice had snapped you out of your thoughts as you averted your eyes away from the mesmerizing scenery. Your hand on Cyno's arm loosened before you turn your attention up front.

"I apologized from being distracted. Nice to meet you again, Mister Kamisato." You put on your best smile that surely appeared on your eyes now too — staring at the man in front of you. Your smile faltered a bit when you see how he looks at you; sprinkled with suspicion and admiration — well, the second one seems to be just an assumption — but his lavender eyes twinkled with such an emotion you couldn't decipher. Nevertheless, you appeared confident despite of how nervous you are.

"Lady Y/N, the only child of Barouqe, it's a pleasure to see you again after so many years," He took your hand and gently gave a peck on the back of your gloved hand. You were quite surprise at his sudden action and by the fact of how gentleman he is — far from what your older twin described him. But, you've noticed how his words came of sarcastically. "Despite of the feeling like we've just met for the first time, no?"

You retracted your hand as you smiled once again. The tension in the air created a heavy atmosphere as you answered. "Why, of course. It seems like we, again, met for the first time. People gradually change for years, Mister. So, I assumed, we shouldn't stay in the past anymore, right?" You answered with the same pettiness.

"Well, well, you are one to talk about the past that I presumed, you don't have any idea about." He retorted and you hid the way you gritted your teeth behind your lips. Your hand clenched behind your back.

This man might know something he shouldn't have any knowledge about!

"I do not know what you're implying." You stared intently in his purple eyes as he squinted them, glancing on your expression — the mess on your laid hair because of the wind, the seemingly change of your body appearance and the way your eyes sent daggers and eyelashes fluttering like angel wings. The Y/N Barouqe he'd known before is not as tough as you are now, nor as fierce and sharp tounged. You seems to appeared more..... attractive to him than you are already before.

Or is the young lady he met before was really you?

"Ah. It seems like you already did really changed, M'lady," He smiles with his eyes close, "Now, let's go inside before the food gets cold." His voice falters deaf in your ears when you finally confirmed it. Your head craned behind your back, silently speaking with Cyno using your eyes and pursed lips. He seems to get the right thing running in your mind as he only shook his head again in disapproval.

Closing your eyes, you felt your father's hand crept on your wrist and your turn your attention to him.

"I-I don't think I can play the game with him, Father." You stuttered as you tried to remove his grasp. But his grip only tightened when you started to resist.

"Come on, my dear daughter. It seems like, the Commissioner had taken a liking of you. We don't want to waste that, right?" Your father had whispered in a dangerous tone and you shakily sighed before you manage to let yourself free from his grasp.

When you finally arrived inside the mansion, your expression deadpanned, already uninterested as how this conversation will go. This is not the first time you've ever oppose to your father's orders, especially when your dignity and you, yourself will be ruined, at the end of the day.

"Welcome inside the Kamisato Estate, Mister and Lady Barouqe. I hope you will enjoy your remaining time here," The Yashiro Commissioner turn himself in your direction, a smile planted on his face as he stared down at you as you look up, challenging him with burning eyes.

There's really something in you that have changed..... was it your personality? No. Even the way you smile is different than before, even the way your eyes had this burning passion and hatred towards him is visible — you have no intentions on hiding your own feelings and emotions as you look at him with those eyes thag sparkling with an attitude. Even though, you're smiling at him, it doesn't even reached your eyes the way you smiled before at him.

Maybe, it wasn't really you that he had met before.

He just needed to confirm it with only you and him.

Alone.

"Mister Barouqe, I hope you don't mind. I want to make some time alone with your only daughter, if that's alright?" He finished and he sees the way you visibly clenched your teeth as you blink nervously. He knew something was up, though, he wanted to push you through your limits until you break and submit yourself to him.

You are an interesting woman and he'll make sure to play with you too.

Your father seems to be enthusiastic at his request, putting both of his hands on your shoulder before pushing you slightly to the man in front of you. He offered a hand and you're lucky to decide to wear a gloves. You turn to look at Cyno, but it seems like he's quite mad at you as he keep his eyes on the floor. You sighed before removing his hat on your head and putting it back to his head. You already had your back turn to him when he decided to raise his head to look at you.

The Yashiro Commissioner guided you to a room as you entered, admiring where he brought you; a room full of books in shelves. The room has a high ceiling, the scent of paper and wood entered your sense of smell as you breath a sigh at the familiar sensation. One thing you love in someone's mansion is their library — or wherever there's books and pens.

His eyes trailed at your expression as he confirms it, yet again. The young Barouqe he met 10 years ago is not as enthusiastic as she is when he welcomed her before inside his office. You look mesmerized — mesmerizing as you walk around the toom, constantly touching the spine of the book and Ayato's eyes followed your movement when you stop just right on the medicine book section.

He stands there, amused. "It seems like you took liking of books now, M'lady."

You halted on your movements, already mentally screaming at yourself at being too excited with the sight of the books. You close the book on your hand before putting it back to its place as you turn your attention to the man that was now one step away from you.

"Ah, indeed. After the incident ten years ago, I decided to read some medical books to understand what really happened to your deceased mother." You put an insult to the wound, already liking the way the man in front of you twitched in irritation. But he gave you a smile.

"The report said that my late mother us poisoned, that confirmed at this very day. You, Lady Y/N, were you poisoned too? Or perhaps," He stepped closer and you step backwards, already hitting the wall as you hissed through your teeth, "You were electrocuted?"

"I don't know what are you talking about —"

Your voice caught in your throat when he tugged your hand behind your back, his other hand quickly pulling something behind his back as your eyes widened at the familiar sensation of a sharp shard that penetrates on your skin as he cut deep — to mark your palm.

"What —!"

"Tell me, confess now, M'lady. You are not the person I met ten years ago, yes?" He's quite surprise as how strong your resistance as you keep resisting on his arms. He managed to press you up against the wall again, his thigh between your legs as you groaned at the pressure of his hand on your wound.

"Let me go, you bastard!" You resist. "I'm going to kill you!"

"Ah, ah. Feisty, aren't you? The exact opposite of your.... older twin, right?"

There's no point of excuses now as you sighed in defeat, loosening your grip on his hand as the attitude you gave him a few seconds ago disappeared in an instant. He stared at your softening expression, but your eyes still show the hatred emotion planted on your pretty face.

"What's your motive? You're not stupid as you portray to even let the person who killed your mother inside your own territory again." You spat at him as he smiled — that annoyed you even more. He keep smiling at you, lips stretch in an outmost stunning smile you ever seen as though to annoy you or it was a genuine gesture that made something inside of you stir.

"I have something to propose to you, M'lady," His grip on your wound finally loosen up as he gently graze at the wound before he's pulling you to sit down on his chair, grabbing something from the drawer, a first aid kit he had on his office. "Let's use each other for an important purpose. I let you work your motive to me and you will let me do as I please to your family."

You eyed him sharply as he started to gently jab the wound with an ointment. You were used to having your wounds treated before that even the feeling of a knife penetrating on your skin doesn't make you cry anymore. He's gentle, opposed from what his grip on you earlier.

"You're stupid to even think I will let you touch my family."

"Aren't you the one getting touched by your own family?" His reply made you halt as you stared at him wide eyes. He seems to hit the right answer when you grip his arm with your other hand. He turn his attention to you as he studied your reactions. You seem flabbergasted, breath hitching and pupils dilated as though you've seen a ghost.

"You —! How —"

"You think your assistant will only shake his head or stay quiet with your situation?" He confessed, "We've known each other after my mother died as he asked for my help. Now that you are here in front of me, the woman I want to help, I'm going to save you from your own family."

"What the hell are you talking about saving me?" There it is, your eyes sharp as ever as you stared at him, standing on your own feet as you pull him down closer to your face that you could feel his breath fan on your face. He's stunned for a moment, seeing you up close like this. This felt nothing like the woman he met ten years ago and it made his heart race. "I've been suffering from my own family, all my life. It's too late to save me now. And, besides, if I were to marry you, I will do anything to slit your throat while you're sleeping."

He hummed, clearly he is not listening when he had hid lavender eyes on your lips as he scoot closer, nose bumping on each other and you have no time to protest when he's quick to hold the back of your head and capture your lips in a seething kiss, your own hand clasping tightly at the hem of his kimono when he opened your mouth with the use of his sultry tounge, the warm muscle exploring on the roof of your mouth, on the back of your teeth and your own tounge dancing as he hums lowly, the sound vibrating on your lips and you hissed.

Your teeth graze on his bottom lip as you bite as a warning, but he didn't even stop to process the pain that stung, continuously stimulating your lips with his while your wounded hand is sti on his gentle grasp. You became breathless, gasping and breathing heavily on his mouth and he seems to enjoy the taste of your lips and the sinful sounds that starting to escape on your throat.

"Wait —! You.... bastard —!"

His hand had cupped your cheeks, lips moving passionately on your own as he captures all the noise and words on your mouth, deliberately opening your mouth using his thumb as you started to thump your fist on his chest. He tasted sweet with a mix of coffee — the aftermath taste of the sweetened boba tea he drank earlier as his tounge dances inside your mouth, leaving you unable to breath as you finally gave in — kissing him back with the same amount of tension he'd giving your mouth and he moans lowly.

"Kami — sato —! I'm.... telling you —! Let me go —!"

The movement on his lips seems to slow down, but he's still not letting you go. Lips attached to yours as he slowly move his lips in a sinful pace and you gasp, the sound that escapes your throat only desire him to go further — until you can't breath anymore. Maybe, the kiss he was giving you could be the reason of your death, as much as you want to deny the warm feeling on your chest and the sensation of his soft lips and unrelenting tounge — you were lost on his facade, too lost on his world once his fingers caress your face.

He finally let go of your lips with a smack and you gasped for air again, panting as he studied the mess he made in front of him. You look delirous with your eyes clouded with desire mixed with hatred and your lips swollen with his minstrations. He's not even better.

"You bastard! You're going to pay for this!" He's silent for a moment, still out of breath. His attention drifted from your face to the wound he made on your palm as he grabbed the cotton again, treating your wound like nothing happened and you stand there, flabbergasted at his actions.

You scoffed, but he never uttered a single word as he work in silence, his mind drifted at the feeling of your lips and the taste of your strawberry chapstick that had mark on his lips. You had noticed and your other hand graze on the bottom of his lips to wipe your glistening balm that has transferred on his lips. He halted as he finished dressing your wounds.

You stared at him like he's the most ridiculous person on the earth, constantly eyeing and judging his perfect appearance like he didn't took your first kiss away a few moments ago, you gave him a sharp look when he stared back at you with unreadable expression like he didn't have his tounge shove on your mouth. You hated his guts and his motives — why is he helping you, anyway? That really confirmed that assumption of your father might be the one who's responsible for his mother's death.

And, now you are paying for your own father's debt.

"I hate you." You blurted and a sly smirk appeared on his handsome face.

"Keep telling that to yourself, My Lady. You are now officially tied up with me." You grunted, pushing his attractive face away when he started to lean into you again. He kissed your palm that was planted on his face and you were startled at the gesture and slightly smack his lips in annoyance. He's being annoying as he keeps pushing you to your limits.

"You were a lot more different than your older twin. Maybe, because I didn't like her guts as much as I like you." His hand clasp on yours where you still had your hand on his face, kissing the tip of your fingers in a manner that made you huff in annoyance despite not pulling away from his warm touch.

"We're twins. If you ever planning to marry me, I will make her show up in the wedding instead." You poked a finger on his cheeks, but frozed when he leaned in your touch that made your blood boiled more as you grit your teeth.

"Don't you thought of the reason why I marked you here in your hand?" His fingers graze on your right palm, creating gentle stroke on the covered wound and you realized it by now; why he made a scar on your skin to mark you — his mark — his blade — on you.

"Or you want a different mark instead? Perhaps, on your neck or chest?" His other hand slid on your waist up on the back of your nape and you shivered at his touch, clutching on the cape that was wrapped around you. His thumb graze on the exposed skin of your neck and you bite back any sound that's threatening to escape. "Do you want me to paint you with my lips? Since, my blade hurts as much, let me paint you using no blood this time."

What.

You stared at him pupils blown wide as he leaned closer.

You were supposed to seduced him, not the other way around!

"I — WAIT —! YOU BASTARD!" Is the only thing left to your lips as you pushed him away when you finally gathered your strength back. Your legs feel numb as you stumbled back, almost crashing yourself down on the pile of books behind and he's quick with his movements to capture you, but he halted on his movements.

"Don't come any closer," He saw his own blade on your hand, pointing the sharp edge towards him and Ayato was stunned as he looked at you. When did you have his blade in your hand? You were sly and quick with movements that he didn't even noticed the subtle of your hand on his back as you caught his blade on your hand. "Let's talk like this."

"Speak now, My Lady." He offered you to go first and you took a deep breath.

"Father told me that you seems to not take a liking to my older twin, ten years ago. That's why, I am the one he sent here. He's been planning to fix our reputation here in Inazuma because of the assumptions and accusations which I've proven true. Father did killed the Lady of Kamisato clan, but not with poison." Ayato listened as he eyed you, your hand still had its grip on his own weapon.

"What did he used?"

"It's a herbal medicine which triggers a certain disease to become more complicated and later uncurable. I've read it in a book and I found out the cure for it and I might have save the Lady if I am the one Father sent ten years ago. But, he didn't plan on sending me because he knew I have such knowledge that will make a hinder for his cunning plans," You finished as you finally let your guard down, walking towards him as you wrapped a hand around his waist — yet again, you're close to him, his manly scent mixed with yours mingling on your nostrils as you put his weapon back on his pocket. His stature melt on your warmth.

"So, I, uhm.... I apologize," You spoke with such a small voice, hiding your face own his chest and arm still wrapped around his waist. "I apologize for my family's behalf. I.... I will do anything to pay for Father's debt."

Ayato gritted his teeth — it was his turn to get furious now as he stared at you; your eyed had lost its expression — it turned dull and regretful. His hand find its way to your jaw as his firm grip had made you startled a little before he turn your face in his direction, craning your neck to stared at him. He seems.... mad.

Your father is the one who has a debt to pay to him, but you are the one here — in front of him, asking for forgiveness and anything just to remove the burden Ayato put in your family. This wasn't supposed to happened; to have you beg - the sound of you begging is not what he meant you to do, he wants to hear you begging in other way around.

But, it seems like his plan already failed from where he kissed you with fiery desires.

You already have no intentions on lying in front of his face, nor lie for your family.

You wanted his help, you were tempted as you fell for this tricks the very first moment you let him kiss you and tease you.

"Anything? You can give me anything I please?" He saw the nervousness that flashed in your eyes, although, you nodded, you seem hesitant — he can feel it.

"You knew, you just did gave me a consent to kill your father as a payment for his debt, right? Your older twin is not even an exemption." His lips are dangerously close to your ear as he whispered and all of the attitude you gave him earlier disappered. He's keeping an eye on the very expression you're making when he pulled away, but his hand stays on your jaw, now gently grasping your face.

Ayato has been keeping an eye out of you with the help of Cyno, the General from Sumeru who's also your assistant. For ten years, he had known you even without meeting you, in general. He watches you from afar, the suffers you experienced and the tragic scenarios that happened to you — every single detail of your life — he knew it all.

He wanted to save you, but the heavy crime your family had made to ruin his own is unforgivable. He grew up quickly, his childhood forgotten and has to take care of the clan that was left for him. At a young age, he work for the sake of his family and his younger sister.

But, you also experienced the same with another scenario. You've lost your innocence at a young age, you've lost your dignity as a woman the moment your father had his hands all over you. Despite your protest, he tortured you with his vision instead while your older twin did nothing. The constant torture and pain had you turning numb through the years.

He's not mad at you, he's mad at what your supposed to be relationship had been ruined, even though you has yet to meet him.

"Just," Ayato felt a tug on his kimono as you buried your face on his chest, wrapping both of your arms around his waist and he melted in your touch. "Do anything and save me from this suffering."

He waited long enough for you.

Ayato will be selfish this time.

Your eyes fall open when you felt an electrocuting feeling that travels through your body, eyes widening as you push yourself away from him, flinching from suffocating feeling in your body as you silently gasp, vision slightly blurrying at the twitch of your every vein.

"Lady —!"

You brought a hand to stop him from stepping closer to you as you pant. The familiar feeling of this sudden power urging in your body is making you nauseous. Your father's vision was all over you - his power to electrify and turn you into a mindless puppet is activating yet again. The vision that was tied up on your waist is loosing its nature and you could only gasp at the feeling of being a puppet again.

Not in front of him.....

"D-Don't.... come any.... closer." You've managed to say before your eyes rolled at the back of your head and your vision blacked out.

It doesn't take a matter of time when your father slamming the door open where you're located, already dashing towards you with a faux look of concern on his face — knowing this is his doing. He could tell what happened inside this room by listening to your heartbeat; it became calm and collected and knowing that sign is just up to no good.

Were you acting just to escape this scenario or did you really fell for this man at first sight?

Nevertheless, he was furious and confuse to say, at least. Now that the first step of his plan failed successfully, he's making sure that you will play along with his further plans.

"My daughter, what happened?! What did you do, Lord Kamisato?!" He immediately blamed the Yashiro Commissioner, who seemed genuinely shocked and concerned at your state. "Oh, my daughter!"

“Call a doctor! Please!” Your father’s fake concern is now turning into reality when he put his fingers on your pulse that seems to slow down its beat and weakened in process. He didn’t mean nor attempt to murder his own child — it was just part of the plan and you’re not even listening to his commands!

THIS IS NOT HIS FAULT.

His whole body shooked as he felt your slow hearbeat and it seems like the people around him weren’t helping as they stared. Is this Kamisato Ayato’s payback? But, you can’t die! He can’t afford to lose his favorite child — his most obedient and precious child.... the one he tormented and carved into perfection. It was you! You were his perfect daughter, you were everything he could ask for.

He tortured you perfectly, made you his perfect puppet of a daughter and have you satisfy his own desires, although you always refused to be touched, you’re always gonna pay for that unacceptable actions, anyway as he sends bolts of electricity to run through your body that travels in every pits of your brain and have you gasping and hallucinating.

That created the other you.

You are an only child.

You are his only child.

Yet, at the sudden burst of emotions and raging vision, you created another version of yourself; a version of your father’s desires.

A version of a person you doesn’t want you to be.

THIS IS ALL HIS FAULT.

“CYNO!” He called him as the said man hurriedly run through the scene, already sweating at the sight of your paling skin and bluish lips. He slightly push your father away to carry you, hooking his arms on the back of your shoulder and knees as he keep you close, your body slowly turning cold and his heart beats fast when he realized.

He’s not dumb, nor into oblivion. He knew you too well than you knew yourself.

Yet, once again, he failed to save you.

In the midst of running outside the Kamisato estate, he could feel the Yashiro Commissioner following behind his fast pace — hearing a faint plead in the scorching cold wind as it reaches his ears;

“My Lady, please, stay with me.”

“She’s an only child,” Cyno blurted out as soon as the doctor leaves the room, leaving him and Ayato in an awkwards silence. Cyno’s eyes landed on your unconscious state, delectable sighing at the sight of your calm face that, although it’s calm, he can’t help but to worry that you might not be able to wake up anymore — or your nightmares will successfully haunt you in your sleep. “She’s been assaulted by her father after his wife died. Maybe, because Young Lady really look like her mother..... or maybe, it’s just the way of how he show his love to his daughter. Nevertheless, it was disturbing and disgusting. And, I did nothing but to only hear her cries as she refused to see me after it was ended,”

“Both of you share the same similary in life; the women who gave you this birth of life were killed by the same man. Maybe, that’s why she asked for assistance, even though it will also betray herself as a daughter to her father.”

Ayato stared at him, examining the way he looks at you with admiration amd hope glimmering in his eyes — it makes his stomach churned and his chest tight. Yet, he can’t lift a finger on the moment as Cyno exclaimed the truth and the fact that both of your mothers had been killed by the only man he despises, and the man that you called father.

You were so nice, so pure, too good in this world as he realized that you can easily escape by your father’s grasp with the help of this man in front of him. But, you didn’t — only because it was your personal matters and the General is your employee. Those standard has been engraved in your mind, tattooed in your heart.

That’s one of the reason why Ayato is in love with you.

He’s been mindlessly awaiting for your return to his life after ten years — where back when he’s young, he met you.

It was you again.

The young woman clad in slacks and button-up, longsleeve, white shirt that compliments your sharp aura, coat resting briefly on your shoulder as your stature is as elegant. He’s been seeing you at the same spot for a while now — a spot in the busy city of Inazuma where you can see the view of a lake and koi fishes swimming in the clear water.

He’s been enticed at the look on your glowing face as though it was your first time here. Well, maybe it is by the way you wore differently and obviously from a first class family. His own self were to keep coming back at this time of the night just to watch you from afar.

He staggers a little closer to where you are standing, yet it still far away as you seems in a deep thought, too deep that you didn’t bother to look at him when he finally approaches you — this time, you have a dark fedora hat that hid your face away from his vision, but he can stil see the shape of your nose and lips on his view.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” He spoke, rather than a greetings. He’s stunned by his sudden statement, he wasn’t suppose to say that! It was clearly a figure of speech for a confession of love.

And, you were aware of it.

He saw how your lips quirked up in a slight smirk and he felt embarrased, flushed pink as he internally scream to himself.

“Indeed, another peaceful night in the city.” You answered and his heart begins to rumble on his chest when he finally got to hear your voice — it was soothing on his ears as you spoke in a smooth voice, almost a little breathless as you puffed a breath. You seems deep in your own thoughts as he leaned on the railings, you still didn’t caught a glimpse of the stranger talking to you, but you took a glimpse of hands covered in dark gloves.

“Inazuma is a beautiful city, not to bribe since I am raised here, but it truly is.” His voice is laced with a hint of playfulness as the atmosphere turned comfortable enough, even though you still hadn’t take any glance of him.

“Yes, I can totally see it. This city is not only the beautiful one here; even the people too,” He’s quite caught off guard by your statement as he glance at you, seeing as how you’re now peeking to take a look at him under your fedora as he took a sharp, surprised breath when he finally had the chance to take a look at your eyes — glimmering under the moonlight as your lips looks lucious painted with chapstick, your eyelashes were fluttered just enough to let him know what you really meant behind those words as his face flushed with a hint of embarassment and admiration. “Truly, you were stunned with my words, Mister. Or is it because you’ve finally managed to caught my attention?”

“Well, I certainly did caught your attention, but you managed to overcharmed me with my antics. I never knew you were such a smooth talker.” You chuckled at his reply. He was clearly stunned as he rambled with his words, clearly flustered.

“I’ll thank you for that compliment, Mister. It seems like, you are very familiar with this city, yes?” You continue the conversation, and Ayato were happy to talk as much when you seemed interested to make conversation with him — finally, he could hear your voice as his lavender eyes never left you. He’s awestruck, looking at the very scenery in front of him in adoration.

He can’t believe, he had been pining over you for how long it takes that he’s willing to do anything just to cross your path again, just to see your pretty face again. It’s been a decade, a whole ten years he wasted just to put up a courage and reach you out with his own hand. Everything is now coming in place, yet he knew you still needed time to recollect things. He can’t come reaching for you that easy..... as of now, you are emotionally broken and physically exhausted. But, maybe this is the time where he could take care of you now, like a wife.

His wife.

That sounds.... so right.

And, later on, he hopes you will be able to feel the same.

“That’s why, I beg you,” Cyno’s words snapped him out of his thoughts as he glance at the white haired man that has been staring at you. “Please, be patient and take care of her.”

“Oh, you’re awake.”

It’s a surprise for the younger Kamisato to see you sitting on the bed. It’s been a month of being bedridden and unconscious, whenever her older brother’s not around, Ayaka will be the one waiting for you to wake up.

She’s the witness of her brother’s longing for you — as he described you as a quite daring lady with an attitude, right now, you were inna complete silent as you stared at the young lady with the same lavender eyes of her own brother, leaving you quite shakened at the fact that every memories before you’ve became unconscious coming back like a tidal waves crashing on the shore. It makes you quite dizzy as your hand came contact with the tip of your lips and Ayaka had stared at you knowingly.

“He’s been waiting for your wake. How are you feeling, Lady?” She approached you gently and surely, sitting at the edge of the bed on your side. “Here, have a glass of water.”

She reached to the bedside where a small table were aligned, reaching for the newly poured glass of water as you accepted the kind offer of the young lady, sipping on the lukewarm water as you sighed.

“Are you going to marry my brother?” Her question caught you off guard as you choked on the water, coughing a little as you stared at her in bewilderedment. Marry? Him? Thinking about everything that had happened between the Kamisato and your family is all and messy, and being tied up or worse, being married with the man you want to love and loathed with your life at the same time makes you want to run away.

“I think, you’ve got the wrong idea here, Young Lady,” You replied with a stern voice, eyeing the young lady intently. “I am an enemy and a threat in your family.”

“He didn’t thought of you that way.” She immediately answered and you sighed frustratedly.

“Clearly, he’s making a gain out of this.” You shook your head, flipping the blanket out of your way as you stood up, fumbling slightly and Ayaka slightly panicked at the sight — she already figures out that you’ll run away again as you put on your shoes that was on the side of the bed, putting all your strength to stand up and the young lady stood on your way.

“I don’t blame you for my mother’s death so, is he, so stop making everything is your fault. If he will ever blame you at something, maybe it was because you keep running away from him.”

“Why is he in love with me in the first place? We’ve barely know each other, and on top of that —”

“There’s no thousands of reasons for someone to be in love and this is not the first you saw each other, Lady Y/N. Please, remember my brother and, maybe you’ll consider. He loves you dearly.” She reached for your hand — it felt surprisingly warm and you stared at the pen she gave you and you vaugely realized what it meant.

You heave a sigh as you stood outside of his office — Ayaka had told you that Ayato is not on the mansion as he travels for a while without knowing the reasons, yet she told you he kept his office open even though he never left his office room unlocked.

You reached for the doorknob, twisting your wrist as you enter the familiar room — a sense of deja vu had hit you when you remembered what happened in this very room, on the spot where his table and chair is located.

A surge of warm sensation hit you when you remembered how his lips felt on yours and you tried to shake the thoughts out of your head as you arrived in front of his table.

Ayaka told you a certain file that Ayato prepared for you, and you already have an idea of what is it, but still, a surge of anxiousness hit you when you found it on the cabinet of his table.

“This.....” Your voice trailed as you stared at the paper, reading the entire file with trembling hands as your eyes landed on the pen on your hold. Ayaka is not forcing you to sign the paper that will tied you to her older brother for a lifetime. You eyed the paper hesitantly before you decided to sit on the chair.

“How absurd,” You whispered to yourself as you clench your fist. “You really think I would sign this?”

Ayato had arrived in his estate where the moon is already at its domain, it’s striking on the dark sky brightly as it illuminates in the room on his bed, where a familiar figure sitting on the edge. He halts when he closed the door.

You huffed. You’ve been waiting for him the whole night and he stands there, too stunned at the conscious sight of you. You gritted your teeth in annoyance before you stood up as you marched towards him.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Commissioner.” Your voice sounds harsh as he snapped out of his thoughts and his eyes landed on your form, wearing a white robe without nothing underneath. Your eyes looks dark and enriching as you pull him by his collar, slamming your lips to his as you wrap your arms around his neck to cage him close to you, the sound that escapes his lips only urge you.

His hands lands on your hips, his resistance to push you away disappeared when your hands started to roam around his body — to his chest where you push him slightly around as he landed a little forceful to the bed where it creaks loudly on the silence of the night. Ayato sighed in your mouth when he tasted the bitterness of the alcohol on your tounge — he hesitates to touch you when he smell the alcohol mixed with your intoxicating scent, but all of his hesitations merely disappered when your hands fumbled on his kimono, removing his upper clothes as you continue to kiss him; all tounge and teeth grazing on his lips and tounge as his grip on you tightened when your hips started to move on his lap.

His breathing is in unsteady rhythm when you finally remove his upper clothes, his other hand landed on the bed to steady himself with your harsh kiss. Your arms are yet to wrapped around his neck again, nails grazing on his back as he unexpectedly moans in your mouth. You finally let him breathe for a moment, only to reconnect your lips on his jaw, the smoothness of his skin were velvet on your lips as your harsh mouth marks his skin — painting him with your feverish series of kisses, teeth and tounge until your satisfied.

You slightly move away from him, admiring the art you made on his skin that was surely hard to cover for days. His lavender eyes were alluring under the moonlight — the only source of light in his dark room; you were no exception — you look heavenly on his gaze, the robe on your body had slipped on your shoulder enough to let him have a peak of your cleavage that is yet to be explored. But, your patience waiting for him all night is thin.

“My Lady? What’s the matter?” He asks you as you kissed your teeth together in annoyance. “This..... are you sure about this? We should probably let you sober for a moment —”

“I’m not drunk!” You raised your voice, brushing your hair away from your face as you gripped on his shoulder for support.

“I only drink two glass, Commissioner. If you won’t take me right here and now, I’ll kill you instead.” You huffed as you reach for his hand on your hips, guiding it on the crook of your neck as you sighed at the feeling of his large hand, he brushed his thumb over your skin as he pulls you again for a seething kiss — softer and slower this time unlike your previous pace. You mewl on his mouth when his hand brushed on your chest, cupping one mound on his warm hand as his thumb brushes on your nipple — the robe wrapped around your body had dropped all the way down.

You curse under your breath when his hand started to roam around your body, mapping every part that is making you twitch and mewl on his lap. His hand wandered on your thigh, caressing the skin before his hand brushes between your thighs and you gasped, eyes shooting open as you slightly pushed him away from your lips.

You hummed when his fingers started to caress between your thighs as he coats his fingers with your essence. You throw your head back as he drinks at the sight of your figure shaking on top of him — all bare and ready for him to take you. He eyed you with the same burning desire when your eyes landed on him as you grind down on his fingers before he let one finger slipped in, relishing at the warmth and how tight it convulsed on his digit — you moaned, pulling him closer to your chest as you buried your face on his neck, making a series of bluish puple marks as you heavily sigh against his skin.

“Ayato...” A mumble of his name as you call for him. He could feel the heat bubbling on his chest straight on his restraining cock confines still on his pants. He started to move his finger inside you, grinding on that certain spot he subconsciously found that has you panting and moaning as you muffled your voice on his shoulder where you bite and suckle on the skin. He slipped in another finger and you let out a broken moan, nails digging on his skin.

“Ah —! I’m close.” You could feel the coil tightening on the pits of your stomach, bubbling on the sensation of his two fingers scissoring you open and he felt you tightening on his digits, soaking his fingers with your essence — just a little more, and you’re there — not until he pulled his fingers out and you whined, tears pricked your eyes when the sensation disappeared momentarily as your body shake on top of him.

“Y-You bastard! I was close!” You sttuters in complain.

“As much as I want to pleasure you, I am losing my patience here, sweetheart.” He replied and you huffed, fumbling on his pants. He distract you, pulling you in a kiss as he sighed in your mouth when he’s finally free from his pants, the cold air contrasting with the warm feeling of your body as he hikes your hips up, his other hand holding his cock as he lined up with your entrance. You bit on his lips when the head catches on your clit, before he tease his way on your entrance, the hand on your hip guides you down and you moaned at the stretch, the first inch of his cock making its way inside you.

The burning sensation hurts so good as you push your way down until you can’t anymore. You push him down until he layed on the bed, propping his elbows in, so he could see you. He’s not even halfway inside, but you could feel your legs shake at his above average size — maybe, Ayato could’ve open you properly with his fingers when you seemed to struggle to take him all in. He eyed the way you’re trembling on top of him, you were dripping, though, it’s not enough to take him all.

“Slow down, sweetheart,” His other hand reached over to the both of your hands as he put it down on his chest and the other hand intertwining with yours. Your heart pounds on your chest at the gesture when he squeezes your hand. Something inside of you bubbling at the sensation of his cock and the way he looks at you; it was daring and full of passion as his lavender eyes never left your figure, he sits upright as his other arm wrapped around you to keep you still. “You can take me. I know you can do it.”

You hissed. You clearly isn’t used in this kind of treatment. You quite expected that maybe, if you were to seduce him tonight, he will force his way to you — but, your expectations differ when he let you take his fingers first even though, he edge you to climax. You were used having someone forcing you in this kind of activity.

“S-Shut up.” You answered and he grins, placing a chaste kiss on your lips, whispering praises on your ears when you took another bunch of inch inside of you.

It felt never-ending as you felt full now he’s halfway as he eyed on your lower stomach, pressing on the bulge and you yelp. You could feel the denied orgasm coming back to you in a surge when your ass finally came contact on his thighs, your voice were muffled by your hand as you bit down at the feeling.

You could feel, you could see him there, inside of you, buried inside to the hilt as the blunt head of his cock kissed on your cervix — the thickness and stretch of him is enough to touch the certain spot inside of you that had you crumbling in a bliss of oblivion as you came, writhing and grinding down om his more as he watched you fumble in a beautiful mess on top of him. He moaned, relishing at the feeling of your walls tightening and convulsing as he chokes at the sensation. You’re shaking and thighs trembling as you finally came down on your high, panting loudly as your mouth agape.

“Ah — wait, Ayato —!”

He gripped on your hips when you tried to move. “I told you, I could wait. Don’t force yourself, sweetheart.”

“Stop boasting about how big you are!” You replied in annoyance as you huffed, gripping on his shoulders for support. “Let me — l-let me move, bastard.”

He grins again, pecking on your lips before his grip on your hips loosened a little and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest on him as he started to mark your ches, neck, and jaw with his lips as he sighed when you started to move slowly — up and down as you mewl at the feeling of his cock brushing on every and very spots inside you as you scratch your nails on his skin.

The hand on your hips guide you up and down as you created a steady rhythm — the sound of your bodies making contact filled the room as his breaths became foggy and unrelenting, eyeing the way your eyes rolled on the back of your head when your pace started to move faster until he can’t hold back his voice anymore.

“Y/N,” He moans your name and he felt your body shivered on his touch. “Let me, sweetheart.”

He whispered on your lips and you open your eyes in confusion as you halted, panting hardly and you yelped when he flipped you, your back comes contact with the soft sheets of his bed without pulling out entirely inside of you, your legs instinctly wrapped around his waist.

“Wait —! Still sensitive... Ayato —!” You tried to push him away by his chest as he pushed his light blue hair away from his face and momentarily stared at his stature — seeing him all naked in glory as the moonlight reflects on his panting figure.

“You can take it, right?” His nose graze on your cheek as he placed a kiss there, slowly and surely, he’s pushing all of him again inside you, eyeing your shaking figure and the erotic expression written on your face; your eyes are cloudy and widening, swollen lips parting, series of moans and his name falling on your lips as he pulls back to leave the tip inside just to thrust back again, angling his hips a little higher as he hits that spot.

His pace were slow, yet his thrusts were calculated and hard as his hips snap on the back of your thighs — he never goes faster as he make love with you slowly and deeply until you were coming again and again, coating his cock with your essence as he tried to muffle your moans with the help of his lips, drowning your sounds of pleasure on his mouth when you started to get louder than he expected — he’s no exception too as he comes, painting your walls white, filling you to the brim as he moans and whimpers on your lips.

“You can take more?” His question doesn’t sound interrogative even when his hips started to move again as your eyes filled with tears of pleasure and joy that you realized — the walls you built for him came crashing down as he make love to you — pushing your body to your limits with his deep, yet still slow thrusts until you were a moaning mess, marking each other all im while as he whispered those words that has your heart pounding on your chest.

“I love you.”

You bit back the urge to cry your heart out, feeling that swirling on your chest and the clench of your heart as you rethinks your choice; you signed on the marriage paper — you don’t regret that part, you won’t regret being his bride, his wife, and the future child that will grow after tonight — what you regret is your final decision that surging in your mind, the decision that will surely breaks him — because right now, the thought of being in love frightened you,the thought of finally having something to live to is making you crumble in the dark. But, you know he will understand you — you know he’ll wait until you’re finally ready. Right now, you were in the midst of chaos, right now, you will surely break his heart.

His runaway bride.

Disclaimer; This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2022 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[sashi-ya]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. [chapter 4] 𝚔𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚔𝚒 𝚋𝚢𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚢𝚊 𝚡 𝚏! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛[+18]

✦ adapted to x! reader from my original oc story. ✦ tw: romance & porn. a lot more romance, and a lot of passionate love making too. Inspired on real places in Kyoto. I invented, however, a festival and a legend. shower sex. food play. public sex. impregnation kink. ✦ chapter 1 / chapter 2/ chapter 3/ chapter 5

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝟐: 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲]

“Blessed with eternal love those who see, in between the lights of a thousand lanterns in the sky, the white ray of the ghost lovers rise”

Byakuya turns you around, his hands on your back. Still panting, you can even feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. His frown is relaxed, his eyes are in heaven… he is tired, you can see it. And you haven’t ever seen him that way.

“Are you ok, Taicho?” you ask, shyly, moving away the dishevelled hairs off his face.

“Taicho… heh” he scoffs; caressing your face with the soft surface of his palms. “Don’t call me Taicho here, is not necessary… call me Byakuya”.

You smile, so slowly and sweetly. Resting your cheek on his hand, closing your eyes in total peace. It feels as if your heart would be weightless, where there are no problems nor responsibilities. No hollows, no Quincy, no Espada nor any type of enemy.

“Come on, let’s take a shower. I wanna show you something tonight”

Soapy water running through your bodies, his hands touching you like feathers. It’s so delicate, so delicious. Lust seems to be endless, for him, for you.

Byakuya grabs your hand and plants a kiss on your wrist while you pass your nails through his wet onyx hair. The noble pulls you closer to his body, your breasts pressed against his pale, hairless chest. Your forearms rest on his shoulders, with hands hanging loosely in between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for this, Tai- Byakuya” you whisper, with water drops pooling in your lashes.

“It’s me who should thank you, (Name)” he whispers, pulling his hair back… so effortlessly looking like the god of beauty and perfection himself.

A kiss, so very deep. Your back now pressed against the marble tiles of such luxurious shower, your legs around his waist and his hands holding you up by the back of your thighs.

You, nor him, understand where does the need, the desire, come from… it seems like you are never satisfied, as if you needed him inside and him to be buried deep into you all the time. The more your skins get closer, the more you need the other. Never ending lust, eternal concupiscence… where does it come from?

What motivates two souls to join? What makes them be so hungry, so thirsty for listening to the beautiful symphony of moaning and whining and grunting?

Is it… perhaps…

“Nghh… Byakuya~” “Mine… (Name) just be mine… only mine”

Another, and another time, and until the hot water runs out. And when your bellies grunt, and maybe pushing yourself to the limits more… that’s when you stop.

It’s ok, nobody will see you two walking through the streets of old Kyoto. Yet, he offers you beautiful traditional clothes. “You would look beautiful in pink” he comments, showing you a piece of the finest yukata, your eyes have ever seen.

“Pink like the petals you cast, beautiful as your Bankai ~” you dare to sound like a poet. You can’t contain the joy inside of you, it’s nothing but pure love what moves you now.

“Sharp like you, deadly like your lips, shimmery as your eyes” he follows you. Maybe he enjoys poetry a lot more than you think, or it’s just that his heart is finally melting down.

You giggle, grabbing the yukata from his noble hands, on tippy toes kissing his lips with a butterfly kiss.

Byakuya looks at you for brief seconds, as if he were lost in a sky of a thousand million stars. And you do too, knowing that he was the brightest of them all…

Byakuya excuses himself for a second and gets out of the room. Not five minutes passed, that he is back again. He offers you his hand and both walk outside the manor. You look at him surprised. Finally, holding hands? Is it allowed in here?

“Come on, we need to get there in time” he tells you, once his fingers wrap around yours.

“Where, Byakuya?” you ask, not really caring about the destiny. You can only enjoy the way his hand feels on yours.

“You will see once we get there” the captain explains as he guides you to a little red tori near the house, still on the beach. Tori are known to be the doors of Gods, and also a way of getting places for Shinigami.

Soon, and as you walk through the holly red arc, the warm lights of traditional lanterns welcome you into the main historical street of Kyoto.

“Oh-“ you gasp, it’s breathtaking. A crimson glimmer bathes your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. Drums playing, the bustle of happy couples and the sizzling sound of Takoyaki combine in one unique melody of a summer festival.  The delicious, sweet scent of wata-ame makes your belly grunt.

“This is… beautiful! So beautiful!” you chime, making little jumps in your place.

“I’m glad you like it, (Name)” Byakuya says, resting his hand right on top of the small of your back. And then slowly moving you to face him.

You beam and giggle. Happiness overflows your insides, and it pours all over your countenance.

Your lover, who also holds a very soft smile, takes his time to enjoy the way your skin shines with the orangey tones of the lanterns. And then, he proceeds to kiss you, once again.

Right in the middle of that busy street, where couples and kids walk past by, nobody can see the pure exchange of love of those two souls. Yet, every time a young girl and a very nervous boy passes by, there is something that pulls them to hold hands for the very first time… And a son hugs his mom, and maybe even an old couple smile again at each other…

Love is invisible, like them two. Love is unstoppable, like them two. Love is love, for living people and Shinigami too.  

When your lips finally separate, even if it’s just for a second, Byakuya points at a hill with an astonishing castle on the peak. “Let’s go, you need to see something” he comments, and you start following him.

You walk right beside him, for once the gettas you are wearing aren’t uncomfortable; they go perfectly with the occasion. And the way your yukatas flow with the wind makes you both look like beautiful butterflies.

Through the climbing path, lanterns with 愛 and 死 illuminate the sides of it. You wonder why, some of them have “love” engraved, while others have “death” on them. So, you ask Byakuya.

“This is the Love and Death festival, (Name). It is meant to celebrate love being endless. Life might be limited, but love isn’t… it was based on an old legend I can’t quite remember” he explains, while you are about to reach the end of the trail.

You smile, very pleased with the explanation and honestly a little lost into the way the reddish lights of the castle make his deep blue eyes shine.

You two walk up to the rail of the hill and take a quick look down. Underneath you, lies ahead the busy streets full of life and love, people dancing and eating, some drinking and laughing. Up in there it is lonely, and yet, so closer to the sky, so beautiful and magical to your eyes.

“Now, for the best part of the festival…” he adds, lifting your chin with delicacy so that you watch up to the sky.

A million lanterns imitate stars as they float up in the air. Some try to reach the skies; some others seem to be levitating right in between the realm of the living world and Seireitei.

On each one of them, the names of those who people miss and those who people love. Because, as Byakuya said, life has an ending, but love doesn’t.

And it’s true… because just as them, you love him too. Endlessly, even after death and you are sure for eternity too.

His hands pass right from the back, through your waist and lock over your belly. Byakuya rests his chin on your head, and he can’t articulate no words. Honestly, you can’t either as the beauty of the dancing lanterns elevate in all glory to the firmament.

Perhaps, not even in your dreams, you have imagined you would be living such romantic situation with Kuchiki Byakuya… but, those who say he has no heart, haven’t taken the time to really know such a kind soul.

“I couldn’t buy a lantern on time, but, would you like to cast something with me?” he shyly whispers, pulling you out from the dreamy scenery of those warm dots of light.

You bite your lower lip and your eyelids shut for some seconds. You need to stop some tears from sprouting… you aren’t sad, you are incredibly happy.

“Yes, Byakuya…” you murmur, turning around to face him.

Eyes that meet, and speechless desires from the deepness of your hearts. Fingers up to the sky, using a white ray to illuminate the sky tinted in pure love. This time, it isn’t to hurt, it is just to seal a promise that hasn’t been written yet…

“Hadō no yon, Byakurai” “Hadō no yon, Byakurai”

As white, as pure, and bright. Like the lights inside your hearts. So powerful, as the love of those who were born to love each other. As magical, as the part of the legend Byakuya didn’t tell you about the festival…

“Blessed with eternal love those who see, in between the lights of a thousand lanterns in the sky, the white ray of the ghost lovers rise”

For some minutes, perhaps it was just seconds, you couldn’t detach your eyes from the pristine light that opened its way towards the sky. The snow-white light, like a single firework does not only take your breaths away, but also the humans’ enjoying the festival too.

“The light of the ghost lovers!” “It’s been almost 100 years since someone saw it!”

They all chime in glee and amusement, pointing at the sky with their index fingers.

“What are they all talking about, Byakuya-sama?” you ask, confused. “I have… no… no idea” he lies, with a little smirk drawn over his lips. “What about going back home, I have yet another thing I wanna show you” Byakuya takes your hand, pulling you towards him once again.

“I would follow you anywhere you wanna go, Byakuya-sama”

Down the stairs, you take a last glimpse of that joyful festival. You let every little detail to get imbued in your memory… perhaps, believing this was, so far, the best night of your life.

Byakuya seems happier than ever; his soft black hair flows with the wind, majestically, as if the time would pass slow, so slow around him. You aren’t sure if you wanna blink, you really don’t wanna lose a single moment, a single detail of his beauty.

He sometimes looks at you; his severe frown is still intact, but his eyes are different. Inside, you can see a light, the shine of being alive again. A kind smile is given, a sweet smirk, a beam that makes your heart stop, melt.

Byakuya squeezes your hand; you do the same. And by the end of the stairs, the tori and a shrine behind. You haven’t seen it when you arrived, but it was worth enjoying it now.

The end and the start; Yasaka Shrine awaits for you. The uncountable lanterns shine it’s golden light with a crimson tint.

You both walk inside, admiring the beauty of the historical buildings around. It is small, but you are sure that it must be very visited; the many lucky tags, with desires written in black ink, are surely prayers of those who have passed through there.

“Wanna try your luck?” Byakuya asks, showing you a little stall with the world “LUCK” engraved in a wooden sign.

You nod, taking the little rolled paper he lends to you. You watch him pay for the two of you, with coins of the living world. You never seen one, not until today.

When both have your papers, you unroll it. Yet, you discover that is empty. You tilt your head to the side…

“You need to put it in water to reveal the luck” Byakuya clarifies, knowing already each and every single of your expressions meanings.

“Oh…” you giggle; you know nothing about this world.

He comes closer, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead, leaving you unable to react. “Let’s go back home now, we can use the sea” he says, taking you by your hand towards the torii that will bring you back to the beach house.

In a second, you open your eyes to a bright light and finally the sound of the waves crushing on the shore fills the ambience. It feels chillier than the afternoon, but it is still enjoyable as it is. The heat of Byakuya’s spiritual pressure by your side is enough to keep you warm.

 “Close your eyes” he says, covering your eyes from behind as you walk towards a light up spot behind the rocks and dunes.

“Oh! Another surprise?” you laugh cutely, taking your hands to his as they rest on your face.

He hums, pressing his chest against your back. You would lie if you said you wouldn’t want to squeak. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been together; it always feels like the first time.

You keep walking until he tells you to stop. “Keep your eyes closed, ok?” he commands, taking of his hands from your face and sliding them towards your waist.

You follow the instructions; he knows better. “Mhh, yes captain!” you joke, absolutely anxious to see what’s in front of you.

The scent of sweet chocolate mixes with the sea breeze. The crackling of fire gets to you. A slight orange brilliance that you can see even with eyelids shut.

“Open…” he whispers, close to your ear. And a shiver runs through your spine; his voice is one of Byakuya’s sexiest traits.

When you let the image ahead of you fill your eyes, you feel like crying. Again, you have never been treated to this… nobody ever has made you feel this way…

The decoration is simple but beautiful. There are lots of candles, and sweets scattered all around. Even wakame taishi cookies that you have no idea where they came from. Actually, you don’t know exactly when all of this had been prepared, but knowing Byakuya was the one to organize the engagement and wedding of his sister and lieutenant you aren’t surprised. Who prepared this, nonetheless, you had no idea.

“Byakuya this is… lovely… I have no words” you mumble, mesmerized by the gesture. “It’s not what I wished, but it still pretty. Let’s sit, you need to eat” he assures; perhaps he is not that satisfied, but he likes it either way.

You scoff. “I need to eat?” you ask, pretty sure there were ulterior motives behind those words. Souls don’t need to eat unless they will or have lost a lot of spiritual pressure.

“I can assure you do…” he says, solemnly and serious as he is. However, a playful, lustful smirk garnishes his lips. Byakuya sits while he says so, with his legs crossed and his hand extended to you.

“Oh, so you haven’t forgotten about the note~”  you purr, as he helps you sit on his lap.

You get comfortable on him, moving -a lot more than necessary- your ass side to side. He is not mad, he is glad. So much, that he plants a sweet kiss on your neck as he stretches to grab a freshly cut strawberry from a porcelain plate.

In front of you, the tide grows slowly. The moon reflects its argentum shine on the waves, and the stars flicker around like millions of little silver butterflies in the sky.

Delicate fingers approach your lips, holding the juicy fruit to them. You suck on the tip, allowing your mouth to also touch his fingertips. It makes him grunt, pressing your belly down with his free hand. The moment you two are close, your bodies can´t resist succumbing to pleasure in some kind of way.

“These taste delicious, Byakuya” you whisper, moving slightly to the side to see his face.

“Do they? May I try one?” he asks, also whispering.

You bend forward to pick the juiciest one yet; you already can feel him hard underneath those silky fabrics. A man in the bloom of his masculinity, needs more, more than just a graze.

You slowly turn around, seeing how, with your movements, the yukata has opened exposing his collar bones and even a little down of his chest. It makes you bite your lower lip; the bones of his clavicles are to die for, the way they protrude and cast a soft shadow on his skin makes you short of breath.

“Open” you order.

But he doesn’t. “No. From your lips; I’m sure those are sweet enough for me” he murmurs, always with that sexy smirk and those blue intense eyes.

Inside you, you scream. But you plead the gods to keep it calm. “Like this?” you purr, trapping the citric with your lips and offering it to his.

He slowly nods, taking a bite of the fruit, as Adam and Eve did with the forbidden apple. With the bite, drops of red juice smears on your chins, and his tongue cleans it all.

It’s too much teasing for you; so much you need to sigh loudly. A sign Byakuya takes as the sound of success. A million and one ways to tease you, a million and one ways to make you want him… even if just existing would be enough for it.

He helps you turn around, this time your legs are around his waist while you face him. But he is not ready to make love to you, yet. Byakuya wants you to eat, wants you to replenish energy.

“You like chocolate, (Name)?” he asks, reaching for a dark truffle.

“Mhhhmh” you nod, unable to speak decent words.

“Great. Try these ones” he orders, making you open your mouth to receive the bonbon right into your tongue. “Bite and swallow”

You do as he tells, biting and feeling the explosion of sweet and sour sake overflow your mouth. The drops run through the commissures of your mouth and get to your neck, down to in between your breasts.

You look right into his lips and then to his eyes. You don’t clean the sake off; you know he wants to lick it off from your skin. With your lustful stare you are just letting him know he can do it whenever he pleases.

Byakuya uses his index to softly push your head back and stretch your neck. He licks from the in between your breasts up towards your mandible. It makes you tremble, balancing your hips involuntarily on top of his lap.

Your chest goes up and down, as your breathing gets accelerated. But even if Byakuya enjoys loving you in violent attacks of lust, he is now decided to make you wait, suffer, plead…

Him, alone, stretches again grabbing yet another truffle. Now he bites it, allowing the unholy liquid to dribble into his chest. You can probably say you are panting, like a hungry puppy.

You take a moment to enjoy the drops slowly slither into every commissure of his pecs, and then, you attack.

First, your tongue reaches for his Adam’s apple. It protrudes so perfectly in the middle of his pale neck, always so tempting whenever he speaks. Then towards the valley in between his collarbones; nothing tastes more delicious than his skin.

Your hands, delicately and softly move the fabrics away, discovering how the remaining drops have reached his right nipple. And before your lips get to work, you give your lover a lecherous look that makes him gasp. Your sweet eyes are his weakness, but lewd tinted ones kill him.

You lick the pointy brownish hardness of his nipple. It makes his belly muscles spam, and the tip of his tongue to shily stick out. His cheeks become blushed the more you suck and taste. His eyebrows meet up in heaven. Have you ever seen such a beautiful and impure expression on him? Submitting to pleasure so easily?  

And you want more than soft grunts, you might want him to whine. And you get it, as soon as you nibble on his nipple. A manly, yet so delicious, moan abandons his lips making your whole insides to revolt.

“If you keep doing that you know how this is gonna end” he grunts, passing his fingers through your hair.

“I am not sure, Byakuya… let me see” you playfully answer back, biting again and sucking harder. You make him bow his head; the longer strands of his hair tickling your face, the perfect angle of his straight nose looks beautiful from under.

You change from one nipple to the other, giving him your thumb to suck. He accepts it, devouring it, coating it with his saliva, biting softly on your nail. His eyes closed, the haste breathing, his long lashes casting shadows on his blushed cheeks.

You have now taken control of his body; for once it’s gonna be you who leads the way. And while you keep playing with his chest, your hand goes down. So down, in between you two and his clothes. You reach the warmth, the wetness and the hardness that’s throbbing so desperately.

Surrounding the inflamed tip, you tap on top it, getting your palm sticky from precum. It makes his hand to turn a little more veiny, up to perfection, as he roughly brushes your hair back with his nails.

“My plans… nghh… were different” he grunts, allowing you to give him enough pleasure to break down all his walls.

“Were they, Byakuya-sama?” you purr, as you slowly let your kimono fall and get tangled in your hips. Your skin seems a beautiful dying place for his pour soul, but he can’t even move from how stimulated you got him.

Your belly pressed against his dick, letting your belly button to get filled with oozing transparent delight coming from him. You feel the slight bump of his stomach against your palm, as he moves more and move to get extra stimulation.

How the tables have turned, while he was planning on making you beg, he is now the one to plead for release. But will it last much longer? Will Kuchiki Byakuya let you control him to such extent?

“Ugh, come here” he growls once and for all. “It’s now when I want it” he says, taking his hand to your neck. He squeezes and presses your carotids, to the point of making you a little lightheaded. Byakuya isn’t resisting no more, he wants, and he will fuck you.

“Ride me, RIDE ME” he orders, straightforwardly and perhaps even a little scarily. But so needy, so desperate. And you love it. When the noble loses his temper, is exactly his real him. The sexiest man alive… (well, not that alive)

You obey almost instantly, but still take a sweet little moment to taste the desperation of such work of art for a man. Soon, you lift your hips, helped by his hands, and guide his sex into yours. You haven’t broken your promise; no panties for the rest of the weekend.

You fall on top of him, letting his hardness to almost rip you apart. Stretching your walls, making them spasm, the sound of your wetness is bliss when mixed with his grunts and the sound of the waves.

His hands go up and down your back, as you bounce and bob your hips on top of him. Riding him, you throw your head back because you can feel his hips also bucking up to go deeper and deeper into you.

“Keep going, milk my dick” he commands, out of himself, using words so unproper for a noble like him.

“I will until you fill me up, Byakuya-sama. Come, fill me up” you whine, as you go faster, and his fingers intertwined with yours to help you with the motions.

Not even the cold wind of the sea can cool both of you down. The exchange of spiritual pressure, the lust consuming your souls, the deep connection that couldn’t be broke by nothing in this world.

“You want me to get you pregnant, (Name)? Hm? Cause that’s exactly what it will happen if you keep doing this to me… you- ngh- fuck… you want me to put my seed in you?” he suddenly spits, leaving you speechless, with lips trembling and toes curling.

You are so close to climax, and words like those should be forbidden from his mouth if he wanted you to last much longer.

But he isn’t gonna last… “I will not… last much longer… (Name), tell me… you want my seed in your womb?” he miserably moans, with drops of sweet pooling on his wrinkled nose.

“Yes, Byakuya-sama!… Ugh… I want your cum; I want you seed, fill me up, impregnate me, make me so fucking pregnant”

“Keep it inside, then” he growls, pushing you back and this time topping you without giving a fuck about the food around, nor the sand, nor the absolute risk of wanting you so full of his cum. Once again, once more and perhaps not for the last time during this crazy weekend that still has some hours to be enjoyed…

[witheredoffherwitch]

I am really sorry for losing your ask, nonnie 😕 I typed out a complete answer in my drafts and my dumbass accidentally deleted the entire post. Luckily, I still have this saved from my gmail. So, here is my response:

I wholeheartedly agree with your take!

Out of all the bland, vanilla OCs out there, Alys stands out as a unique example 😇 While most Targaryen protagonist pairings are predictable and cliched, Alys breaks the mold in the best way possible. The popular trend here is to ship Aemond with his niece or another Targaryen OC, using the argument that in a different AU, his Targaryen heritage would have driven him towards such relationships. However, it should be noted that Aemond has never expressed any desire for these types of relationships outside of his duty. And, that’s a keyword here: DUTY. Yet, even with all these societal expectations weighing on him, Aemond chooses Alys because he genuinely desires her. He is smitten with her charms and falls head over heels for her. He even risks his own position to protect her and goes against tradition by marrying an older woman who is a base-born bastard. Now that's true love and rebellion against duty at its finest.

My oomf @azdaema-archive drew a delightful comparison between Alysmond and Duncan/Jenny in this brilliant ask. Both princes defied their duties and threw caution to the wind by rejecting their arranged betrothals with Baratheon women. In doing so, they risked their status and positions for a chance at a romantic future with their chosen ladies 🥰 Now, if you'll indulge me in my boldness, I must say that Duncan/Jenny is the charming ✨cottagecore✨ version of Alysmond's dark gothic mess. Feel free to roll your eyes and raise your pitchforks at my audacity 😭 I regret nothing 💀

[nanamismoonchild]

deceiving the moon

->chapter 11- the pan handler

->pairing: namjoon x oc (persephone)

->genre: greek god, fantasy

->wc: ~1.5k

->warnings: choking, name-calling, rough fingering, power dynamics on both sides, unhinged namjoon and oc (both of them are crazy), Persephone being mean

credits: this fic was beta read by the lovely @augustbutwinter and the header was made by the lovely @birbdae

a/n: somehow i found enough time to write a few words.it's been *checks notes* a whillllleeeeeeeeeeeee since i wrote namjoon and our girlboss persephone. please comment or send an ask my way if you enjoyed it. Or better yet, send an owl with a lovely letter. :D OH OH I hope you all get the reference too!

prev next

also posted on ao3

Persephone had hoped Namjoon would let her explore more of her new kingdom. However, he explained that they had an appointment with a familiar god by the name of Park Jimin. 

To humans, he was Pan. To Persephone, he was a nuisance much like the rest of the gods that she had met so far. The only difference is she had interacted with Jimin more times than she would have liked to admit.  

Her mother enjoyed his company and invited him to help with harvests. He also lurked around the lake surrounding her old home, flirting with the nymphs. And with her. She couldn’t count on her fingers how many times she rebuffed him, only for him to come back the next day.  

In fact, she had a feeling, she already knew what he would say the moment she was in his proximity. 

“You picked him? Over me?” Jimin screeched, damn near tossing himself into her personal space. He managed to sound both accusatory and hurt at the same time. 

“And why on Gaea’s green earth would I ever choose you?”

Sulkily, he replied, “Because obviously I’m the better choice. I’m your mother’s favorite.”

“My mother didn’t have favorites,” Persephone said plainly, hoping to hurt the man’s feelings. “And if she did, she’d be foolish to choose you.”

“You can be such a bi-”

Namjoon huffed and stood up from his chair, swiftly, trying to save his friend from getting slapped into the next century. “If you’re done flirting with my wife, Jimin, I’d like to begin this meeting. I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”

The new goddess of the underworld and the young god of the wild both turned their heads to Namjoon at the same time, and eerily, both said, “You’re organizing?”

Namjoon’s heart broke a little.

“Yes, but that’s neither here nor there with you, Jimin.”

Persephone sat next to Namjoon, easily sliding into her business persona. A persona she didn’t even realize she had until now. Being Queen was changing her, and she loved every single moment of it. 

Jimin scoffed, “Right. You want to hold a ball in this silly dirty-”

“Do not insult my new home, shepherd.”

Jimin braved the intentional insult and kept going.  He was used to Persephone despising every man that walked into her life. From what he’d heard, she had already knocked Yoongi down a couple of pedestals, made Jungkook bleed, and put Namjoon into his place. He wasn’t (yes, he was) afraid of what she’d do to him.  

“I’m sorry. Your lovely castle. You want to turn this place into the finest place ever. With my help. Why not just call Apollo?” “Tried. No answer, “ Namjoon said plainly. 

“Of course. He must be off doing some trials or something. I heard he got into some really bad stuff.”

“Before you two turn into gossiping nymphs, what is this about a ball?” Persephone questioned, turning to look at Namjoon. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing and we’ve both spent the night taking care of…errands.”

Jimin didn’t bother asking what errands the two of them took; he felt if he asked his feelings would get more than hurt. 

“Ah, it was a last minute thing. And it’s not really a ball. It’s more of a ceremony for the both of us.”

He side-eyed Jimin. 

“I wanted to create a song for you. And I thought that Jimin would be the perfect candidate to help me. After Apollo of course.”

Namjoon thought he heard a small “whatever” come from Jimin. 

The look of complete disgust was painted onto Persephone’s beautiful face as she realized what Namjoon had suggested. 

“I’d rather listen to the cries of the dead as they cross the Styx and realize they’re being rowed away on a boat driven by that idiot you trust so much.”

Damn. The woman managed to insult all three men and one of them wasn’t even in the room. 

“Persephone, my music is not that bad. The Pan Girls say that-”

“Pan Girls,” Persephone rolled her eyes. “They are nothing more than women who have laid in bed with you on more than one occasion. That is the name that common men, such as yourself, give them. It’s close to being called a whore. Please do not ever call the women who idol you that despicable name.”

Jimin felt as if an arrow had been shot and lodged in his chest. His cheeks became warm and red as shame rose up his body.  He had thought it was one of those adorable fan names. 

“And please, no music made by a man has ever made me happy,” Persephone added to complete the reading she had just given the poor man. “Now, if you had asked Euterpe, I would have taken any song by her.”

“Well, she was unavailable, considering she’s one of the nine.” Namjoon gritted out, wanting to add a demand that Persephone stop insulting his friends or he wouldn’t have anyone except Cerberus.  

“Hm, too bad. I guess I’ll take the half goat then.”

Jimin was ready to cry. There were only so many insults he could take, and the Queen may have just found his limit. 

“Namjoon, I don’t think I feel comfortable singing a song for the bitch who clearly does not like me.”

Namjoon sucked in his teeth. Enough was enough. If she was going to be a queen, petty insults needed to stop.   “Persephone.”

“Yes?” Persephone asked innocently, instantly hearing the low tone Namjoon used with nuisances. “Please apologize to our guest.” 

The grin that spread across his queen’s face was absolutely terrifying. It was the smile of a woman who knew she had all the power. And no one could take it from her. 

“Now, “ she started, tracing circles along Namjoon’s arm, “if I do that, it wouldn’t be sincere. And Jimin deserves a sincere apology. Don’t you, Jiminie? ”The tone she used was sultry and, obviously, fake, but that didn’t deter Jimin. 

He loved being called Jiminie, and finally hearing it from Persephone, someone he had been infatuated with for years called him tha,made every insult she had made towards him disappear. 

He was sucked into her charms immediately.

“I do deserve one. Listen, I’ll make up calling my admirers, Pan Girls, by writing and singing the best song you’ve ever heard.”

“You will?” Persephone gushed, still putting on a false performance. 

She knew Namjoon wasn’t pleased but to hell with him. 

The god of flutes nodded giddily and took off before Persephone or Namjoon could say anything else. 

The throne room was empty besides the two of them. Normally, a swarm of servants would come over.  Persephone still couldn’t register the days or nights in the Underworld very well; however, she knew from her the sleepiness that suddenly overwhelmed her, it was late in the night, which meant the servants were also in bed. 

She yawned and stood, aiming to stretch her legs. She became aware of Namjoon sliding next to her; she made the mistake of presuming he was going to offer to carry her as he normally did. 

Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his front. His other hand made its way to her throat. And pressed. Not enough to completely cut her off, but enough for her to feel lightheaded but excited all the same. 

Namjoon leaned in close to Persephone’s ear, so that he knew she was listening. 

“Whenever we have guests, my queen, you will respect them,” he moved the hand that was on her waist to her middle, bunching up the night dress she wore. Almost exposing her. 

“No more of these petty jabs. Business only.”

She decided to mess with Namjoon, “Or what?” 

Mistake. A big one. 

Namjoon whipped her around and pushed her into her throne. The Egyptian cotton stuffed velvet pillow felt like heaven underneath her,  but Namjoon didn’t give her time to enjoy the feeling. He lifted her dress, and slid two fingers inside of her warmth. 

Persephone moaned and began rocking on his fingers before the arm he wasn’t using pinned her thighs down. She pouted, but the onslaught of Namjoon’s fingers didn’t allow her to chastise him. She quickly felt a coil begin to emerge, and couldn’t believe it was so soon. 

Unfortunately, just as soon it began, it ended. 

Namjoon slid his fingers out, her pussy making a shameful wet noise as he removed them.   The sound warmed Persephone’s cheeks as she tried to catch her breath. 

“You keep doing what you’re doing–you won’t get what you want,” Namjoon said, his voice still dripping with the dark vibe. He licked both fingers clean, relishing Persephone’s taste. 

Persephone opened her mouth to complain, but it was promptly shut with Namjoon stuffing both of his fingers into her mouth. She tasted a little of herself, and Namjoon’s own saliva on her tongue.  

“We’re going to go to our room and sleep. You’re not getting that orgasm tonight. We’ll see how you behave in the morning.”

Persephone nodded, reluctantly. 

Namjoon smiled, no, he beamed. It was the same terrifying grin that Persephone had earlier. No one could take away the power Persephone had as the Underworld’s Queen. Except the King, her king. 

[charlywrites]

Requested by anon

Request; could you write a story where the OC is worried to tell Lewis that she is pregnant because he always seems detached and stressed but then he makes her a surprise

Warnings; stress, reader being pregnant?, also not sure if I respected the last part of the request well because I wasn’t sure what you meant, sorry!

Note; definitely not my finest work, I hope it’s still somewhat enjoyable <3

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

When you found out you were pregnant, you were freaked out to say the least, at that point, you had been with Lewis for almost a year but the subject of having kids had never been mentioned.

You liked kids and weren’t against having one of your own one day, but you didn’t expect it this soon- as for Lewis, you knew he absolutely adored kids, and they adored him in return, it had never been a problem.

However, you weren’t sure if he wished to have one on his own one day, and even if he did, it clearly wasn’t the right moment as your boyfriend was going through one of the hardest season of his career.

It took at most five minutes after knowing you were pregnant for you to start overthinking and stressing to the point that you could’ve ripped your hair out- it was incredibly scary, as of now, you were facing this unplanned pregnancy alone, you needed time to process the news and think of a way of telling your boyfriend.

As he was away for the rest of the week, it was easier than you thought, and it wasn’t exactly like Lewis and you were always in touch. You started noticing he was putting some distance between him and you during the week of the fifth Grand-Prix of the season.

You didn’t think much of it at first, thinking that maybe he needed some space to deal with all the criticism, pressure and stress that this season was giving him. It had been hard for him to get back on his feet after the terrible ending of the last season, while you had been there for him, he also had needed some time for himself.

That’s why you didn’t think it would stay like that for a long time, especially since you constantly reminded him that you were there for him and that he’d always have your support no matter what. His answer would always be the same- that he was thankful to have you.

Yet, he kept pushing you away and even to this day, the situation hadn’t gotten any better, which explained why you were so scared of breaking him the news- maybe it was going to be the point of no-return and he would break up with you.

When that thought reached your mind, you felt sick in your stomach- you had no doubt that Lewis was the love of your life but chances were that this feeling wasn’t reciprocated by him.

You thought that keeping your pregnancy for yourself for now was for the best, until you’d figure something out but you also knew that you wouldn’t be able to hide it for a long time, your stomach wasn’t showing much yet, as long as you weren’t wearing anything tight fitting, no one could guess.

It felt very isolating to live this beginning of pregnancy alone, the only being that you had told your secret to was Roscoe- he would listen to you but never judge you, even better he couldn’t tell anyone in return.

You weren’t planning on attending the Grand-Prix held this week-end as Lewis hadn’t asked for you to come along, he didn’t really seemed to care or at least mind if you’d accompany him or not. You’d be following the whole week-end from home, hoping for your boyfriend to get a podium.

That was your plan until Lewis texted you quite late at night on Thursday asking if you’d be there this week-end to support him- your answer was negative, you explained that he didn’t mention wanting you around and he seemed to need some space that you were willing to give him.

You were surprised when your read the next message where Lewis was practically begging for you to come and support him- after all the distance he had put between the two of you, how could you refuse that?

On friday, you made it right in time to join Lewis before the start of the first free practice session, as the car still needed a few adjustments, your boyfriend had a couple of minutes to spare before joining the other cars on the track.

Lewis was already in his racing suit when he welcomed you in his arms, hugging you gently as he kissed your forehead, “ I’m so glad you could come right in time to support me.”

“ You know I’d travel the world for you, Lewis.”

“ I’m not asking this much,” you had missed Lewis’ genuine smiles that were less present lately, something had changed, but you couldn’t quite tell what exactly, “ but it’s nice to know. How was your flight?”

“ Boring but great, I’m glad it wasn’t a long trip. How do you feel about this Grand-Prix?”

“ Confident, I think we finally have a car to compete with the Ferraris and Red Bulls.”

You smiled hearing this news, that might explain why Lewis was smiling so wide, you were excited for him and had the feeling this was going to be a good weekend for him, “ that’s so good to hear, I’m so happy for you!”

“ Thank you darling, we might not win yet but our time will come soon.”

“ I know it will, I believe in you and the team,” giving your boyfriend a quick peck on the lips, you didn’t want to hold him back for any longer, “ you should go, the car is probably ready now.”

“ Yeah, you’re right. I wanted to tell you something but maybe it’s better to wait until after today’s practices. I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

You were dumbfounded to hear this and couldn’t stop yourself from asking yourself many questions that you wouldn’t get an answer to straight away as Lewis had already left to get his balaclava and helmet.

Why did Lewis want to talk? Did he want to break up with you? Or did he find out you were pregnant before you got the courage to tell him?

It felt like torture to have to watch the two free practices, stressing over what Lewis was going to tell you, the fact that he wanted you over there for the Grand Prix could only mean that it was definitely something important and that didn’t help you stress any less about it.

When the hours of waiting were finally over as Lewis’ car came back to the garage after taking the checkered flag of the second practice, you felt like you could become sick at any second now that you were going to have your questions answered.

You expected to have to wait a few extra minutes before knowing but instead of going straight to the drivers’ room to get changed, Lewis came directly to you, barely having removed his helmet he excused himself, “ I shouldn’t have told you we needed to talk before leaving, that was stupid. I’m sorry, I know it stressed you out.”

“ Yeah, that was a bit unfair of you, now I’m convinced you’re going to break up with me!”

“ What? No way I’m breaking up with the love of my life, where did you even get that idea from?”

“ I don’t know, you ask me to come support you for the weekend when you didn’t ask me to come for the past months, then you tell me that we need to talk?”

Lewis grimaced, realizing how badly planned this whole thing was, “ said like this, that’s understandable but I promise I’m not breaking up with you, I love you way too much for that!”

“ Then what is it?”

“ I wanted to apologize for being the worst boyfriend of the year, I know I’ve been pushing you away since this season started when all you wanted to do was to support me. I know I’ve fucked up but I love you and I’ll do my best to make up for all the time I wasn’t there for you.”

“ Oh,” to say that you didn’t expect this was an understatement, it didn’t even occur to you that Lewis could have something positive to say, “ I’m not going to lie, you won’t get the medal of boyfriend of the year but I forgive you, I get it, this year has been rough on you.”

“ But that’s not an excuse, I’ll have a lot to make up for.”

You smiled, he might had missed a lot lately, but it wasn’t anything unforgivable,“ no, not really. I just want my loving and cuddly boyfriend back, that’s it- I don’t ask for more.”

“ That shouldn’t be too hard, I missed cuddling with you.”

“ However, there’s still a medal you can get at the end of the year.”

Lewis frowned, visibly confused by what you had just said to him, “ which one?”

“ One that says ‘dad of the year’.”

Your boyfriend remained silent for a never ending minute, processing the news before realization hit him, “ dad of- wait, are you pregnant?”

“ Yes, I am.”

“ You’re pregnant, so we’re going to have a baby? And be a family?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how long it was taking him to wrap his head around the news, especially with the big grin he had on his face, “ yes, but we’re already a family with Roscoe, we’re just adding another member.”

“ You have no idea how happy I am right now. Oh my god, I need to tell my mom and dad, and Anthony too!”

“ Babe, calm down, I think you should go take a shower first, then we can tell whoever you want to tell, okay?”

“ Fine, but we’re telling everyone today,” it had been a while since the last time you had seen Lewis this excited, after pressing a kiss on your lips, he headed to the drivers’ room but not before shouting, “ I love the two of you so much!”