#ribbons part iii

[angeart]

You weren't kidding when you said you two were making eclipses terrifying...

Nico seems so mean at this first meeting D: Does he remotely feel bad about this later, when they've been in the commune for a bit?

Also 👀 at the tags, yes I am looking forward to those last mimic rambles, yes I wanna know what happened to Juni!

-🎀

yeah we were serious about that! 🥰

and, well, i don't think nico feels horribly guilty for this here. (to be fair, he mostly doesn't think back to it a whole lot.) i mean sure, he feels somewhat bad. he clearly wasn't thinking an avian could last, and as such couldn't see the worth in trying to keep them alive. but just like kane, he's done a lot of learning since!

and when they meet the second time, he's genuinely impressed that they're still alive! (and honestly a little bit glad he was wrong.) (listen he also has a soft side. he just grew up a warrior.) it rattles some of his beliefs. because he didn't think it would be possible, and yet here scar and grian are, weary and traumatised but stubbornly, tenaciously alive.

and grian becomes a sign of hope for the commune. bright feathers and a beating heart.

nico acknowledges to scar one day, quietly. that he now understands why scar didn't take their offer back then.

that he wouldn't do it now either.

that some things are worth protecting even if the whole world insists it's moot effort and they're doomed.

he tells him he's glad the two of them are here now.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable IV - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

a/n: ahhh guys I literally love all of you so much. Thanks for all the love and support on this story!! Hope you enjoy this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IV

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stared at yourself in the mirror, quite happy with that way you looked. You were getting ready to make a trip to Hewn City with the rest of the Inner Circle, so you could be announced as their new Overseer. Already donning your mask, a mask you wore just as well as your brother could. You were, after all, raised by the same cruel, unflinching male. After your father died, Rhys had made sure to continue teaching you how to handle the unsavory parts of the Night Court as best he could. 

So you had put on a dress that demanded attention. It was Night Court black, of course, with a halter top bodice that connected to a high neck collar. Starting from just below your breasts, the dress was cut into two panels to cover your front and back, laced together with a black ribbon on the sides. It clung to your curves and showed off more skin than you usually did. 

The entire side of your legs, your hip bone and waist, all exposed and accentuated by the dress. Some kohl liner brought your star-flecked, violet eyes to life. Your hair was curled and spilled down your back freely. You felt beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. The Princess of Night. 

You finished the look with the diadem your brother had given you. It was made of Illyrian metal with dark red jewels decorating the intricately twisted vines. It was perfect for the Court of Nightmares. 

As you made your way down the stairs, you could already feel the disapproving stare of your brother. Only him and Cassian were waiting in the foyer. Cass was in his Illyrian leathers and your brother was wearing a finely tailored black coat and pants with his own crown on his head. 

“Nice try, dove,” Rhys chided. “Go back upstairs and change into the dress I had Nuala lay out for you this morning.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No. I bought this one specifically for today and I’m going to wear it.”

“No, you’re not.” Cass snorted as Rhys tried to assert his dominance. “Go change. Now.” 

“No. I’m wearing this. You can’t make me change my mind.”

“Oh, I can make you,” your brother sneered. He could, you supposed, use his High Lord voice to order you to change. And then you literally wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Before he could though, you shouted for his mate. “Feyre!”

Your High Lady and sister-in-law walked into the room with a baby Nyx on her hip. She was wearing a beautiful, glimmering black dress that fell in a deep v to her navel. Slits on both sides of the skirt exposing her legs and a twin crown to the one Rhys was wearing sat on her head. Nyx was also dressed in black with a tiny version of their crown on his own head. The sight of them both was too adorable. 

“What’s going on out here?” Feyre asked, sliding up to Rhys’s side. He strung an arm around her, pulling her and his son close. 

You gave your brother a cheeky grin. “Your mate wants me to go change because he’s a big, overprotective, insufferable bat.” 

Your brother glared at you as Feyre smacked his arm. “Leave your sister alone, Rhys. She can wear whatever she wants.” 

The two of you shared a smile as Rhys let out a sigh of annoyance. “You know, I thought having a mate meant always having someone on your side. I would’ve never brought you here if I knew you’d end up conspiring with my sister against me all the time.” 

“You're lucky you ended up with such a smart, beautiful mate that can check you before you embarrass yourself, Rhysie,” you laughed as Feyre stuck her tongue out at him. Rhys scoffed at both of you as you giggled with each other at his reaction. 

“What are you guys giggling about out here?” Mor and Nesta walked into the room, both dressed as finely as everyone else. 

Feyre started to answer Mor but your attention drifted as Azriel appeared in the shadow of the hallway, striding towards the group. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers like Cass, all seven of his cobalt siphons on display. Azriel always looked intimidating, but even more so today as his leathers clung to his muscles and highlighted the lethality of his stone-cut face.  

His eyes immediately locked onto yours and widened as he took you in. His gaze dipped down and roamed your entire body and when he looked back up, his eyes were filled with hunger and heat, before he blinked and his cold mask was back on. You gave him no reaction, merely glancing away from him as if his presence had no effect on you. But the butterflies in your stomach begged otherwise. 

Elain came walking down the stairs at the same time, dressed in black yet way more modestly than the rest of you. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place she looked.

“You’re coming?” Nesta asked, peering at Elain in surprise. “I thought Hewn City was far too much for you delicate sensibilities.” 

Mor snorted as Elain scowled at her sister. “I’m only coming to show my support for y/n.”

She smiled at you and you gave her a grateful nod. Even if you were jealous of her for winning over the shadowsinger, you’d never blame her for him being an asshole. You also didn’t want Azriel to know you were bothered about it. You might not be as prideful as your brother was, but you’d rather suffer in complete silence than let anyone think they’ve made you feel insecure. Perhaps it was a family trait.  

“I’ve had your stuff, and Azriel’s, sent over to the Moonstone Palace already,” Rhys said as everyone congregated. “So you can spend the rest of the week getting situated with your new role as planned.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But I already asked Cass to be my escort and he agreed–”

“Cassian forgot he has other duties that I already assigned to him this week.” 

Cassian gave you a sheepish look and you let out a huff. “What about Balthazar?”

Balthazar was the Illyrian warrior who had helped Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. He now worked closely with training the Illyrian females and helping them merge with the Valkyries. He was a good male and an excellent warrior—but more importantly, he wasn’t Azriel. 

You could feel Azriel’s stare as you kept your focus on your brother. He waved a dismissive hand. “Azriel’s already agreed and I’d rather him guard over my sister than some untested Illyrian.” 

Your hands clenched, annoyed but you nodded, not wanting your brother to get suspicious. With that, your brother winnowed the group to the gates leading into the Court of Nightmares. You took your place behind Feyre and Rhysand and Azriel slid into the space next to you as your designated guard, apparently. You managed to keep your stare straight forward as you began to walk towards the throne room.

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows cascading around your ankles. “Do you hate my presence so much now that you’d rather some random brute take my place as your guardian?” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who told me to stay away from you. I’m only doing as you asked. And Balthazar is not some random brute. He is a friend.” 

“Since when?” he hissed.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I had been helping with the training of the Illyrian females before I left for the continent. Balthazar is another one of the trainers.” 

Azriel said nothing else as your group finally entered the throne room. You could feel the stares of all the fae in the room, likely wondering why the High Lord had called for a party. You followed Rhys and Feyre to the dais, where Azriel held out a gloved hand to help you up the steps. You grabbed it, not wanting to embarrass him in front of a bunch of vultures who already thought of him as less than, and took your place behind Rhys’s throne. 

You and Feyre were the two people in your brother’s life that he had vowed would never have to bow to anyone. And he took that quite seriously. So while everyone else was forced to lower themselves to the ground, you stood at his side. 

You glanced at the crowd of people in the throne room. Your eyes widened as you noticed Eris next to Keir. You hadn’t been expecting him.

“You can rise now,” Feyre said after leaving them on the floor for a few moments. 

And then it was time for the big announcement. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The party was in full swing, music playing, faeries dancing. Despite their despise for their High Lord, the fae down here took any excuse to get up to some debauchery. You still remained at the dais next to your brother, Azriel now a step behind you, like the guardian he was supposed to be. 

Cassian stood on the other side of the dais by Feyre with Nesta, both ready to protect her and baby Nyx should they have to. Mor had claimed a table where she and Elain now sat, the latter looking uncomfortable as she peered around at the party taking place. 

Keir stood before Rhys and Feyre, a forced look of respect on his face. It seemed to almost pain him and you had to hide your grin. 

“My Lord, if I may ask, why have you decided to pass along the role of Overseer to someone as young and unpracticed as your sister?” Keir asked, his voice full of condescension. “And to do so without any input from me. It seems like an insult to us in this court—to not have one of our own be a representation for Hewn City.” 

“I think you forget yourself, Keir,” Rhys sneered. “Me and your High Lady make every decision for this court and we certainly don’t require your input nor your opinions. You will show my sister respect. She is more than capable of what her title requires of her.” 

“Can you blame me, my Lord, for having my doubts? Your sister has never dealt with court politics. It might be naive to place her in such a position.” 

You took a step forward, standing tall as you looked down at your uncle. “You seem to forget, uncle, that I was the one who ran the Night Court during my brother’s absence for fifty years. You also seem to forget that your daughter’s mercy is the only reason you are still standing here today. Watch your mouth or perhaps you will find that I do not share the same leniency towards you as she does.” 

Keir’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, but he did the smart thing by keeping his mouth shut. Though his eyes flickered towards the shadowsinger over your shoulder and a bit of fear flashed through him. Luckily, he didn’t hold your attention for long as a redhead suddenly appeared in front of you, at the bottom of the platform’s steps. 

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Eris purred, holding out his hand to you. His eyes roamed down the length of your body before they met yours. Your brother’s hands tightened on his throne’s arm rests but one look from Feyre kept his mouth shut. 

You placed your hand in his, blushing slightly as he leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Would you allow me the honor of being your first dance tonight, Princess?”

Azriel growled in warning from behind you but you ignored him, instead looking towards your brother. He gave you a slight dip of the head as permission to leave your post, so you let Eris help you down the steps. 

Eris escorted you to the dance floor just as a new song began. You let Eris begin to lead you through the dance, one hand in his and the other one on his shoulder, as his free arm looped around your waist.

“It is a surprise to see Rhysand finally letting his coveted little bird out of her cage,” Eris whispered into your ear as he twirled you around the dance floor, a devilish smirk on his face.

“He can be persuaded,” you whispered back with a feline smile of your own.

“Does that have anything to do with a shadowsinger who looks like he wants to kill me more than usual?”

As he spun you around, you couldn’t help but glance at Azriel. He had moved from his post closer to the dance floor, to keep you and Eris in his line of sight.

His eyes were narrowed, his shadows spiraling around him like snakes ready to strike, as he watched you dance with Eris. You wanted to roll your eyes at his behavior. He didn’t get to be a complete asshole to you and then act all protective. 

“It has nothing to do with the shadowsinger,” you answered, gasping as Eris yanked you closer just in time to get out of the way of another couple drunkenly dancing. “It was all my negotiating that got me my new title. So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now?” 

“It seems so, my Lady,” Eris crooned.

His amber eyes flashed to something over your shoulder and based on the smirk that spread on his face, that something was probably a certain shadowsinger. He met your gaze again, mischief sparkling on his face. 

“In fact, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with Mor in private, but I guess now that would be you, wouldn't it?” 

You nodded, peering around and noting Rhys and Feyre distracted by a line of couriers vying for their attention. Keir was off in a dark corner conversing with a male you recognized as Lord Thanatos. You looked back at Eris and he quirked an eyebrow. “It appears most everyone has their hands occupied right now. Shall we seek somewhere private after this?” 

Eris leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “I’d like that very much, Princess.” 

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes as he stood back up with a charming grin on his face. “You are as much of a flirt as your brother is,” you chided, waiting for the song to end so you could make your exit without drawing attention. 

“Don’t tell me you’re referring to little Lucien? Doesn’t he have a mate he's still pining after?” 

As you were spun again, you glanced back at Azriel, whose arms were crossed as he continued to glare in your direction. Good, you were glad he was upset. 

“Not lately,” you answered. It was true; Lucien rarely came around if Elain was present. He seemed to have given up on trying to win her attention for the time being. Perhaps he had also noticed the growing interest between her and Azriel. 

“Well I say good for him,” Eris chuckled. “A Vanserra has never had to beg a female for her heart. They merely present it to us on a platter.” 

“You are so full of it, Eris.” 

The music finally lulled to a stop and Eris let go of you, holding out his arm instead. “Allow me to prove it to you, Princess.”

You slipped a hand into the crevice of his elbow as you dipped out of the throne room before anyone could notice. Just as you had stepped into the corridor, a cold hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting the both of you. You already knew who it was before you turned around.

Azriel was seething as he glanced between the two of you. “You aren’t supposed to go anywhere without an escort, y/n. You know that.” 

You glanced at him as if he were inconveniencing you, though you knew he had followed. “I have one,” you replied, nodding your head towards Eris, who gave the shadowsinger a cunning smirk. 

“He doesn’t count,” Azriel hissed.

“Fine, then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here,” you shrugged before turning back around and leading Eris down the hallway. “Come, I know a private place we can go to.” 

You chatted with Eris as you walked, completely ignoring the angry bat that followed one step behind. Azriel was really starting to confuse you further. What the hell was he so upset about when he made his choice in Elain so clear? 

You took them down a dark, narrowed hall that looked like it was a dead end but a door appeared as you approached. It was just another secret meeting room. There were many in this court and you were familiar with most. You let Eris enter first and stood in the threshold blocking Azriel’s way. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” you said politely. “But I have it from here.” 

Azriel looked at you and then over your shoulder at Eris, his eyes full of icy rage. “Your brother has ordered me to stay with you at all times, y/n. Especially in the case of being around someone who may wish you harm.”

Eris snorted and you glanced back at him. “Hm Eris, do you plan on harming me?” 

“I was hoping to do quite the opposite, Princess.” His voice was full of wicked promise. 

Azriel growled lowly and the noise sent a shiver down your spine that you fought to cover up. “See, there’s no need for you here,” you chimed and then before he could even take a step forward, you slammed the door in his face and locked it. You quickly threw up a ward knowing he’d still try to spy with his shadows. 

Eris chuckled as he sat down on one of the plush couches. You took a seat on the one opposite, conjuring up a tray with two empty glasses and a bottle of expensive liquor on the coffee table between you. 

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” you asked as you poured the both of you a glass.

“Oh, there is nothing of importance for us to discuss. I just quite enjoy getting a rise out of the shadowsinger and for some reason, he seems to be particularly bothered with my proximity to you.” Eris crossed his legs and threw his arm around the back of the couch. The perfect picture of a male proud of himself. “Thank you for unintentionally helping me in my quest. I’m sure your shadowsinger thinks I’m trying to seduce you in here.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed. “You pulled me from enjoying my own party just to make Azriel upset?”

“Oh please, we both know no one enjoys the parties down here.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “And it wasn’t the only reason. It's not very often that Rhys lets his little sister be in the presence of those he considered unsavory. Perhaps I am interested in your company as well.” 

“Well you’ve got my full, undivided attention now,” you replied, sitting back against the couch with your glass in your hand. 

Eris grabbed his glass as well, twirling it in his hand as he studied you. “So, tell me, why is it that the shadowsinger is pacing back and forth in front of the door, cursing me under his breath, as we speak?” 

“He’s an overprotective, Illyrian bat. Just like my brother and Cassian,” you said in dismissal. 

“Hm, I’m not quite sure that’s the only reason.”

“You seem to have an obsession with Azriel, Eris. Do you want me to put in a good word for you?” You gave him a brazen smile. 

“Alright, little bird, I’ll drop it. I’m far more interested in the beautiful female sitting in front of me as it is.” You hated that your cheeks turned pink at his words. Eris was handsome with his red hair and amber eyes. Even his scent of cinnamon and vetiver was enticing. But he just wasn’t Azriel. “Will you indulge me in a game of chess as we chat?”

Glad to move on from the subject, you did just that. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Alright, that’s enough—”

You were nearly three rounds deep in a game of chess when the door burst open and Azriel came stalking inside. You jumped a bit at the intrusion as Eris’s focus stayed on the chessboard like he had anticipated this. 

You looked up at the shadowsinger who was panting, his hair in disarray. His eyes widened as he took in the casual scene of you and Eris playing a game of chess. You raised an eyebrow at him but he only continued to glower at Eris. 

“Enough of what, shadowsinger?” Eris asked nonchalantly as he moved one of his chess pieces. 

“Enough of whatever the fuck you guys are doing,” Azriel huffed before looking at you with his arms crossed. “You’re needed back in the throne room. Now.” 

You very much doubted that, but decided to play along. You were losing this game anyways. You set your glass down on the table and stood, straightening out your gown. “Apologies, Eris, but apparently, duty calls.” 

Eris stood as well, gathering his coat that he had discarded at one point. “I should be getting back before my father grows suspicious anyways. I would very much like to do this again, Princess, if you’ll have me,” he said, grasping your hand and pressing a kiss to it like he did before. 

You gave him a slight dip of the head. “You know where to find me.”

He said his goodbyes, not without throwing a smirk in Azriel’s direction, before he disappeared, leaving only some crackling embers in his wake. You went to leave the room but Azriel reached an arm over your head and shut the door right in your face. You let out a disgruntled noise and turned around to Azriel towering over you, his gaze darkened.

“I thought I was needed in the throne room,” you said, sarcastically. 

He ignored you, keeping one hand on the door to keep it closed as he watched you. “So, you’re into Eris now? He’s a dangerous male, y/n.” 

“I think I can decide that for myself,” you snapped. “Maybe I am interested in him. What does it matter to you?”

He took a step closer, boxing you in against the door much like he had done that night. “I already told you it matters to me.” 

“You also told me to stay away from you. So why did you agree to be my guard for the next week? Why the fuck are you here?”

“Because someone has to watch over you! Especially when you decide to go strutting around in a dress like this,” he growled. “Tell me something, Princess, just who exactly did you have in mind when you put this on?”

His gloved hand trailed up the side of your thigh, to where the dress was held together with ribbon. You hated how much your skin tingled at his touch, hated the butterflies that arose in your stomach at his heated stare. Hating how your heart picked up its pace.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “If you’re implying that it was you I was thinking of, Azriel, then I’d say you think far too highly of yourself.”

“Your body says otherwise,” he growled, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

You put both your hands on his chest and pushed him away. “No, no! You don’t get to do this, Azriel! You came to me. You came to my balcony, almost kissed me, and then disappeared for days! And then the next time I saw you, you had your tongue down Elain’s throat before running off to go fuck eachother.” 

“I didn’t fuck Elain,” he grunted. “I’ve never fucked Elain.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

“No…I don’t know—fuck!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“I did as you said. I left you alone like you wanted,” you spat at him. “You cannot come back to me and cast any sort of judgment on who I wish to spend my time with. You can’t come to me and act like you want me now. You had your chance and you were the one who walked away. So why won’t you just leave me alone?” 

You said the words but your heart was screaming the opposite. All you wanted was to grab him, to kiss him, to continue where you guys had left off that night. You can tell in the way he stared at you that he wanted the same. But you deserved better than that—better than this. 

“Because I can’t. I can’t stay away from you,” Azriel said. He looked unhinged, desperate. As if your mere presence caused him such conflict. His eyes were pleading you for something, but you had no idea what he even wanted. He was so hot and cold. 

So you squared your shoulders and straightened the crown on your head. 

“Well, that's your problem not mine,” you said before finally leaving the room.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gods, the last few days had been draining. Dealing with Keir was a headache without having to also be around the brooding shadowsinger. You two hadn’t spoken to each other besides small words in passing and you tried to ignore his heavy gaze most of the time. The rest of your family had returned to Velaris after the party, leaving just you two to occupy the Moonstone Palace. Thankfully it was a rather big place which made it easier to avoid Azriel. 

But you still had half a week left with him here. 

You sank yourself further down in the bathtub, twisting your wine glass in your hand. You had a lot to think about. Your brother was crafting a response to Prince Cedric and needed your input of whether you wished to get to know him better, if you felt anything towards him. Eris had also sent you a letter today. Apparently this time he actually did have something of importance to share with you, but had also admitted to wishing to see you again. 

Perhaps it was time to move on from Azriel. Prince Cedric was handsome and kind, with his wavy blonde hair and cerulean eyes. But he lived on the continent, would eventually rule there, and you didn’t know if you could live so far away from your brother, nephew and soon to be niece. 

And then there was Eris. All the Vanserra males were annoyingly attractive and one day soon, he’d be the High Lord of Autumn. But he was complex. Half the time you didn’t even know which mask was his real personality. Was he really a kind male underneath that cruel armor he wore? Not to mention his past with your cousin.

You sighed and drank the rest of your wine before getting out of the bath. You pulled on your silk nightgown, the Palace charmed too warm to wear anything else to sleep, and dried your hair with some magic. It was late and you figured it was safe enough now to wonder about—figuring Azriel was asleep or at the very least, in his own bed chambers. 

You made your way down the vast corridors until you ended up right in front of the double doors leading into the study. Your brain was restless right now, but maybe some reading would help. You pushed the doors open and immediately wanted to curse the Mother. Of course you would jinx yourself. Of course the shadowsinger would be in the study already. 

Azriel looked up as the doors opened, his eyes finding yours. He looked…rough. His hair was in disarray, his eyes shadowed, and an almost empty bottle of whiskey sat on the small table in front of the armchair he was sitting in. You stood there for a moment, both staring at each other, until the doors slamming closed behind you made you jump. 

You let out a sigh and turned around, ready to leave, when his voice stopped you. “Don’t…Don’t leave. Please.” 

The desperation in his voice made you pause and you studied the intricate doors in front of you. You should leave. You absolutely should walk through those doors and go back to your private bed chambers. But…But this tension between the two of you was a dark cloud lingering over you. You had never had a contentious relationship with anyone in the Inner Circle. 

So you stayed, turning around and letting out a gasp as you came face to face with Azriel. You hadn’t even heard him move, hadn’t heard him even get up. You placed a hand over your heart and took a step back, putting more distance between the two of you.

He reached for you but you took another step back, sniffing the air. “You’re drunk, Az.”

“I know,” he said, darkly. “But I can’t take this shit anymore. I can’t do anything when I know how upset you are with me. I hate it, y/n. I hate that I’ve hurt you.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, upset. How could he be taking this so poorly when he was the one who caused all of this? You said nothing, just stared at him expectantly.  

“Princess…” he trailed off, staring down at you with melancholy eyes. “I…Can we please just forget about the past week? I can’t stand you being upset with me. Can we just…go back to how things used to be—before all of this?”

“How?” you breathed out. “How am I just supposed to forget?” 

How could you forget the hurt he had caused you…how could you erase the image of him and Elain stumbling into the River House in a heat of passion…by the cauldron, how could you forget about the way he treated you at training…and the night on the balcony afterwards. How?

“I don’t know,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He looked devastating in the dim faelights of the study, surrounded by marble bookcases and the open walls looking out towards the mountains. Even as dishelved as he was. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you. I fucked up. I should’ve never come to you that night…I should’ve never touched you.” 

Hurt flashed across your face. Had he really not wanted you that night? Had you completely misinterpreted his actions? Was he about to finally tell you he didn’t want you—that he wanted Elain and was sorry for leading you on? You didn’t know if your heart could take it…

“No, don’t…” Azriel said, seeming to notice where your thoughts had turned. “I don’t mean it like that, princess.” He reached a hand forward, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “I did want you…I still do. But you have to understand, we can’t. This…us…it can never happen.”

“Why?” you choked out. He didn’t make any sense. If you wanted him, and he wanted you, then what the hell was stopping either of you? Was he scared of how your brother might react? If that was the case then he could just say so. You could deal with Rhys.

His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin. You shouldn’t let him touch you. Shouldn’t even be so close to him. But Gods, your heart ached for his touch.

“Because,” he started, then faltered for a moment. “Because it just can’t, princess. I’m sorry.” 

You pushed his hand away from you. “You owe me more than that, Azriel! You owe me a godsdamn explanation. Why? Why can’t it happen? Because of Elain–”

“No,” he growled. “It has nothing to do with Elain. I don’t even care about Elain. I just want you—”

“I don’t think you know what you want, Azriel,” you scoffed. “You can’t stand here and say you don’t want Elain after what I witnessed between you two. I saw you, you know, in the kitchens that night. I saw you together before I even went to the continent. So don’t tell me you don’t want her, don’t care for her!” 

“It’s the truth,” he pleaded. “I swear to the Gods themselves. I don’t want Elain. I have never wanted Elain. I have never even wanted Mor. All I’ve ever wanted was you. You and only you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” you cried. “How can you even say that? I watched you pine after Mor for years! And now everything with Elain—”

“I need you to understand, princess. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to. But we cannot happen. I saw the way you looked at me and Gods, I wanted nothing other than to tell you how I felt. But you…I can never have you. So I pretended to pine after Mor for years hoping you’d move on. And then she came out to all of us, told us she preferred females, so I had to find someone else—”

“You expect me to believe that this whole time you’ve been pretending to like other girls? Mor, maybe I can believe because you never pursued her. But Elain? Azriel, I stumbled upon you guys twice! It certainly didn’t look like you were pretending.”  

“Because that night in the kitchens I was trying to make myself want her. Make myself want anyone other than you. Because I can’t have you, princess, don’t you get it! It’s fucking agony to crave you the way I do and not be able to do anything about it. So I tried, Gods, I tried to move on. But it didn’t work. We never got past what you saw. I couldn’t force myself to want her because I don’t. I don’t want anyone other than you.” 

“And what about the second time? Were you just pretending then, as well?” 

“I knew you were home that night. I had been tracking you the whole day with my shadows. After what happened between us on the balcony, I was scared you’d try to act on your feelings for me. So I purposefully sought out Elain. Purposefully led her back when I knew you’d be there to catch us. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you but I needed you to move on. Even if it meant you’d hate me.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stuttered. “If you want me and I want you, then what’s stopping us, Azriel? Why do you keep saying you can’t have me? Is it because of my brother? Do you think he wouldn’t approve—wouldn’t think you deserving? Because you are, Az. I love—”

Azriel surged forward and pressed you against the door with a hand around your mouth, wings snapped out to their full length. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, your chest heaving.

“Don’t,” he snarled. “Don’t say it. Don’t. I won’t be able to control myself and this will all be for nothing. This will all end horribly.” 

When you made no move to say anything else, his hand slowly dropped from your mouth. You felt tears line your eyes. You felt frustrated, mad, upset. You couldn’t wrap your head around what he was trying to tell you. 

“At least tell me why, Azriel. Don’t you think I deserve that? You said you’re sorry for hurting me but can’t you see how much you’re hurting me by doing this? It hurts more to know you want me the way I want you but not enough to be with me.”

Azriel let out a groan and sank to his knees in front of you, bowing his head. “You have no idea how much I want you, princess. No idea. It is you who is in my head every single second of every single day. It is you I think about as I fall asleep and you I think about the moment I awake. I would crawl through hell on my knees just to be able to kiss you, to hold you, to love you. But I can’t….I can’t, y/n.” 

You held your breath, a few tears leaking from your eyes. This was everything you’d ever wanted. These were words he had only ever told you in your dreams. And here he was, finally saying them for real. But in the same breath, telling you that this, that you and him, would never, ever happen.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why?”

But Azriel said nothing further. Just knelt on his knees in front of you like he was praying to the Gods, his head bowed between his shoulders, his wings drooping against the floor. You waited for him to say anything, anything that might help you understand. But nothing…nothing ever came from his mouth.

You loosened a breath, your heart heavy in your chest and left.

Left Azriel on his knees in that room, with the words he said hanging over him like a death sentence.  

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd

*If you don't see your username and you asked to be tagged, it's bc it won't let me for some dumb reason.

*Hope you guys don't hate me too much!! We'll get some more Az POV soon and maybe next part we'll finally get some answersss ;)

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Studious III (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

In an attempt to help you understand his recent behavior, Prince Aemond you his diary to read. What will you find within?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: non-graphic smut, perhaps Aegon's best commentary yet, more Aemond being an awkward idiot

Author's Note: The diary is being split into two part, which means this will turn into a six part series. Enjoy!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious III

Aemond’s diary was magnificently bound. The cover was made from supple, well-tanned black leather, which had likely cost a fortune by itself. The pages were so precisely cut that you had to run your finger across the edge several times for your nail to catch. And the paper itself was smooth and rich, far finer than any you had ever written on.

The benefits of being a Prince, you supposed.

You considered for quite some time whether to start reading Aemond’s diary – gods, he had given his diary, that gesture of trust would take more time to fully process – at the beginning or at the first ribbon. More than a dozen of them, each made of fine green velvet, were laid throughout the pages marking what he most wanted you to read.

Reasoning that the beginning was the most logical choice, you opened to the first page:

The 1st day in the first moon of the year.

It is after midnight that I am writing this, the very first moments of a new year. The Maesters believe it will be another year of summer, but time will tell.

The Small Council has begun making preparations for autumn, so the Crown will be ready the moment word arrives from the Citadel that winter is approaching. I have asked Grandsire to include me in these preparations so that I may learn how…

You looked away from the page, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

It wasn’t that it was boring, exactly. But it was pretty typical – nothing that revealed anything new about Aemond. Though you supposed the fact that he began a new diary on the first day of the year, rather than whenever you filled the journal you were using – as you did – said something about how regimented he was. Orderly.

Still, with each word, your gaze was drawn to the green ribbons. To the passages he most wanted you to read.

You suspected they were all passages relating to you.

So, with the promise that you would eventually return to find out what, exactly, he wanted to learn about the Crown’s preparations for winter, you grabbed the end of the first ribbon and let the pages fall…

The 16th day in the third moon of the year.

The betrothal has been settled. Finally.

I doubt I could have endured another miserable day of sitting in Grandsire’s study, listening to him read each of the letters sent by lords from throughout the realm, desperate to pawn their daughters off to a Prince of the Realm. Though I suppose I should be grateful he had already whittled the list down to only the two-score ladies he found the most politically advantageous.

Aegon told me that more than a hundred letters arrived. So, it could have been much worse.

Every letter was nearly the same, listing the family’s wealth and assets along with their daughters ‘accomplishments.’ In truth, calling them such seems far too generous. What does a scrap of embroidery or a reasonably well-played song truly accomplish, other than a few fleeting moments of mediocre beauty? It always fades.

Besides, every highborn lady is trained in the same skills, so they are hardly exceptional.

You frowned, looking up from the journal and at the dozens of examples of your own embroidery scattered throughout the room – including on the blanket you laid under. True, they were not always perfect, but you were proud of each and every one of them.

Then there was your little lyre, sitting by the sun. You hadn’t had the chance to play since coming to the capital, and you realised in that moment that you truly missed it. Once, it had been second nature to pick it up immediately upon waking and pluck nonsensically at the strings as your maids readied you for the day.

Those songs – if they could be called songs at all –were always your favourites. Wholly unique creations of your mind, never transposed, never to be played the same again. Briefly, you almost stood and retrieved the lyre, just to see what your hands would create in this moment.

But that would require setting down Aemond’s diary.

You looked back down at his words and frowned again. It took no small amount of time and effort to develop your skills. In fact, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished. No one was born knowing how to embroider or play music.

Neither was anyone born knowing how to wield a sword or ride a dragon.

Your frown faded at that thought, as you imagined how Aemond would look if you said that to him. The memory of him in the library when you snapped back at him, looking like a befuddled fish, returned to you. It was so enticing that you called for one of your maids to bring your diary, a pen, and ink.

Turning to the first blank page, you noted the date of Aemond’s offending entry and wrote out exactly how you would rebuff him if he had said such a thing to you.

Perhaps, when you were done reading, you would tell him.

The lady we chose – my betrothed now, I suppose – is the only one that could possibly be called ‘exceptional,’ even if only among her unimpressive peers.

I almost dismissed her, for the letter written by her father was almost entirely unremarkable.

She is accomplished, as all highborn ladies are. Her father wrote that she crafts beautiful embroidery, plays some instrument or another moderately well, and is an able conversationalist. I believe there was also something about flowers – she likes them, or grows them, or enjoys arranging them?

But none of this is truly remarkable. Indeed, as Grandsire read, I admit I was not giving him my full attention. Why would I? I had heard the same words at least a dozen times already.

And then – ‘much of her free time is spent in the library, and she can rarely be found without a book somewhere on her person, even if it is just a miniature concealed within her sleeve. She is quite brilliant, if it is not too presumptuous of me to say so.’

That I had not heard before.

You preened slightly as you read your father’s praise. While your mother admired your dedication to your studies, she also worried that your intellectual pursuits would frighten your suitors away. ‘No man wants a wife smarter than he is,’ she once said.

Your father, however, had encouraged it. Once, you went to his study to show him a new book you’d found, only to overhear his steward expressing his concerns about how much the new library acquisitions were too costly. Your father dismissed him and his ‘concerns.’

And it seemed the investment in your education paid off if it caught the attention of a Prince.

It piqued Grandsire’s interest as well. After he finished reading the letter of introduction, instead of moving on to the next girl, he turned to Mother and asked for her opinion – of both the lady and her family.

Mother did not have overwhelming praise, but neither did she have any complaints. They are not the most powerful ally, though they will strengthen our position adequately enough. The Lord and Lady are friendly, if a bit dull, so it would not be an annoyance if they were to visit King’s Landing after the wedding. And they are pious – her parents have made many journeys to Oldtown and the Starry Sept.

You picked up your pen to again write a rebuttal but stopped. It wasn’t a particularly kind assessment… but it wasn’t inaccurate. You loved your parents, but even you could admit they were ‘a bit dull.’

The miniature portrait that arrived along with the letter shows that her appearance is agreeable, is somewhat plain. Though I suspect that she will wish I could be called the same. Indeed, she will be lovely standing next to me. And Mother says she will look very fine in either green, black, or even red.

It is a good match – politically and strategically, of course.

And if she truly does enjoy reading so, if she is ‘brilliant’ as her father says…

Perhaps marriage will not be so bad.

I am under no illusions that this is, or ever will be, anything more than a political arrangement. An obligation on both our parts. I know that I am neither suited to nor deserving of love.

I have negotiated with Mother and Grandsire that her chambers will be far from mine. Within the Holdfast for her safety, but far enough away that she will not be forced to see me more than our duties require.

By both her father’s and my mother’s accounts, she is kind. I am not.

A political arrangement. That is all it will be – all it must be.

But I hope that in choosing her, I can find some companionship in the arrangement. At the very least, perhaps we can discuss our favourite books.

Any offence you took at being called ‘plain’ was overshadowed by the aching in your heart at seeing how little Aemond thought of himself.

Yes, he was scarred. But he was still achingly handsome.

As far as you knew, he had done nothing that would make him undeserving of love. Surely everyone was deserving of love. At least, that is what you were always taught by your Septa.

He had said some unkind things to you, but now… after reading his note, you knew they must not have been meant as such. He was trying to be kind. He just didn’t know quite how.

The urge to throw the diary aside and run to him immediately threatened to overwhelm you. But he asked that you read, so you could know and understand him. And you were not finished yet. So, after taking a moment to clear your head by writing out a list of your favourite books, you turned to the next marked page.

The 9th day in the fifth moon of the year.

The man who painted that portrait should be flogged. Publicly. Or hanged, perhaps. For he has done to my betrothed the gravest injustice.

She arrived today. And I have been forever changed.

There is no creature more beautiful in the world. Not even Sunfyre is as radiant as her. And that imbecile of an artist – if he can even be called such a thing – made her look plain.

I shall burn that portrait immediately, and locate a true artist. One who is capable of capturing her loveliness.

Though it may be that such a thing is impossible. For it is not just her appearance that is so enchanting, but indeed her every aspect.

Her voice is more beautiful than any other sound or music I have ever heard. And she speaks with such elegance and intelligence! The reports were true – she possesses a brilliant mind. There was so much I wanted to ask her, to discuss with her, but I found myself unable to say any of it.

The words were so clear in my mind, and yet my mouth would not move. I do not even know if I actually greeted her, or if I only thought to do so. I must have, or else Mother would have scolded me. I wonder what I said…

You laughed slightly. He had only said two things to you that first day. When you rose from your curtsy in the courtyard, the first time you had looked into his eye, all he had said was your name.

He had been entirely silent the rest of the day.

Then, as you exited the welcome feast later that night, he looked into your eyes again. Finally, after a moment of furious blinking, he had said your name again and then turned abruptly to leave.

The first of many times he had done so.

You had thought he simply hadn’t wanted to speak with you, but it seemed you were very, very wrong.

From that very first meeting… he liked you.

It was almost humorous how quickly he gave up on his declaration that your marriage would be nothing more than a ‘political arrangement.’

No, it was more than just humorous – it was hilarious. And more than a little flattering.

Stoic Prince Aemond, who since losing his eye had been as cold and unfeeling as stone, was practically smitten with you!

Suddenly, you realised that you were smiling so wide that your cheeks were beginning to burn, and in your delight, you had apparently kicked your legs about – your blanket now lay on the floor. But you didn’t care. You were blushing so much that you were perfectly warm, even in your flimsy nightgown.

And as you read further, your blushing did not stop.

The 10th day in the 5th month of the year

I spent nearly the entire day in her presence, and it has made me ever surer of my initial assessment – my feelings.

She is wonderful.

I was worried that, this morning, she would be different. That I would wake and find that my mind had played tricks on me yesterday, and she was not as beautiful, or sweet, or kind as I first thought. But, to my unending delight, she is all of it and more.

Mother and I met her and her own Lady Mother in the Royal Sept early this morning. When plans for the wedding were first being made, I did enquire about the ceremony being held not there, but in the Grand Sept. However, the request was firmly denied.

Grandsire gave me various explanations – that the expense was too great, that her family would be able to remain in King’s Landing for only a short time due to the coming winter, that the Grand Sept would be too busy preparing for the coming harvest celebration, and any number of other foolish things. I appreciate that he tried to shelter my pride, but it was unnecessary.

I know the real reason.

I am a Prince, but I am the third born. The second son. And my betrothed… she is the fifth born, if I remember correctly, although the eldest daughter.

I – we – are not worthy of the honour of being wed in the Grand Sept.

Perhaps if her family were more powerful, maybe one of the Great Houses…

Why do I even care? Being Wed in the Royal Sept is still an honour, and the gods will watch over us no matter where we say our vows. But still, I want it.

I want it for her.

I want to see her face alight as she enters the Sept and sees not only its magnificence but its each and every alcove filled with hundreds of people all there for her – for us.

We will both have to settle for the lesser beauty of the Royal Sept and a few dozen witnesses in place of the hundreds she deserves.

You would have loved to be wed in the Grand Sept – to have been given that great an honour.

But you had never considered it until reading Aemond’s words. And though you tried to make yourself share in his regret, you were unable to truly feel it. Nor could you feel any offence at his comments about your own importance and that of your house.

All you felt was a pang of sadness that Aemond considered himself so unworthy, as did his family, it seemed. After the sadness faded, there came a blossoming warmth in your chest, that he wanted it not for himself, but for you.

You picked up your pen to write something, but couldn’t think of what to say. That you wished he wasn’t a second son? That he was just as important as his elder brother, or his sister, the heir?

In the end, you simply wrote: ‘Thank you. Perhaps we can visit the Grand Sept soon. Together.’

At least there will be a suitably grand celebration after the ceremony.

Gods, am I actually looking forward to the feast? I hate feasts.

I hate the crowds, the overloud music that somehow does not drown out the din of the drunken guests gossiping like fools. I hate being forced to sit and watch while the people that claim to be noble and dignified gorge themselves like rats on obscenely rich food and repulsively strong wine. I hate all the cowering girls that approach me only because their fathers want to secure an advantageous marriage, who Mother always tries to make me dance with – oh, that’s it.

I will not have to listen to the music or the gossiping. I will not have to watch the crowd or dance with any girls who look at me as if I am some creature of the night.

It will just be me and her.

And the some three hundred guests mother has invited. But it will be bearable, so long as I can sit next to her, talk to her, dance with her.

Yet he never said a word to you at the feast, and danced with you but once.

‘I would have danced with you all night,’ you wrote. ‘If you’d only asked.’

Oh yes, I think I will like this feast very much.

She will as well, I am sure. With every detail Mother told her as we showed her the Great Hall for the first time, she looked so happy, so excited. She is not afraid of me – she is excited to marry me!

Though she did not speak to me beyond greeting me when I arrived… Perhaps it is a fault of mine, for I do not believe I spoke to her, either. I wanted to, but again, I could not find the words.

Of course, now that I am alone, I can think of a thousand things I want to say. A thousand things I want…

After dinner, I escorted her to her new chambers. We were chaperoned, of course, by our mothers. But even with their eyes upon us, when I brought her to that door… I wanted to follow her through it.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted… gods, I wanted all of it.

But it is not lust.

At least, not in its entirety. I would be a damnable liar if I did not say the very sight of her – of her sparkling eyes and the glimpse of her breasts the dress she wore today granted me – had me thinking sinful, unbecoming thoughts. I admit I am grateful my jacket disguised any evidence of where my mind was as I said goodnight.

I think I said goodnight – didn’t I?

You began to blush again, but it was of a different sort of bashfulness than before. For this wasn’t innocent compliments about your beauty or your wit. It was…

As much as Aemond tried to deny it, it was lust. He lusted for you.

It was a sin. You should have been disgusted. Offended.

Yet, you weren’t.

For you would also be a ‘damnable liar’ if you tried to say you hadn’t lusted for him either. Perhaps not before the wedding, but you had certainly desired him since.

But you certainly couldn’t write that down. So instead, you wrote that he had not said goodnight. He had looked like he might, but he only nodded slightly and left.

Is it truly a sin to list after the woman who is to be my wife? Or does it remain a sin until we are actually wed? I shall have to ask Eustace on the morrow.

Still, it is not only lust. For she is not only beautiful. She is kind, sweet, intelligent, and so, so good.

I fear I may love her.

Or, at the very least, it would be very easy to love her. And harder still to not.

I do not want to love her.

To love her would be to condemn myself to a life of perpetual misery, for I know she could never love me in return.

Nor would I want her to. No one should be forced to love someone like me – someone so broken and hateful.

Perhaps it would be kinder for both of us if I called off the betrothal. I am sure Grandsire could find a way to dissolve the arrangement without causing damage to her reputation. If my own must take the blame, I would gladly do it.

Something else was written at the end of that line, but it had been so thoroughly crossed out that you could not decipher it.

I cannot. I have known her little more than a day, but I know I must have her. Not just physically, but… I need her in my life.

She is the first light I have felt in many years, and perhaps it makes me the most selfish person alive, but I simply cannot go back into the dark.

So, the day after tomorrow, I will marry her.

Tonight, I will pray that tomorrow ends quickly. Perhaps I will attempt sleeping all the way through it, and hope I dream of her.

You felt a cracking in your chest. A hurt deeper than you had ever known. And it was not only for you, but for Aemond. For both of you.

‘I need her in my life.’ And yet almost as soon as you were wed, he left you.

In those first two weeks, you only ever saw Aemond in an official capacity. Was seeing you for only a few hours every day, wherein the both of you were almost entirely silent, really enough for him?

Of course, it wasn’t. He would not have come to your chamber again that night if it was. He would not have kissed you when you lay together or touched beyond what was required by duty. He would not have approached you again and again, even when he consistently angered you or made a fool of himself.

It took him longer than you wanted to that first time, and how he did so was almost always unexpected, but…

Aemond had made a habit of leaving you, but he always came back.

The weight of that realisation and the warmth and lightness it brought to your chest could not be lifted by even the largest of dragons. So, you did not ponder it any further, nor did you write anything down. There was, at once, too many things to say and yet not enough words to express them properly.

So instead, you turned the page so hard it nearly tore.

The 11th day in the 5th moon of the year.

Today did not pass quickly.

In fact, today may have actually lasted an entire year. Or at least it felt that way. I shall have to ask the Maesters to look into it.

Gods, if I make such a pathetic excuse for a joke in front of her, she will call off the wedding herself. Humour has never been my domain. But she does so like to laugh…

I will improve, as I hope my attempts to speak to her improve with time and practice. Or perhaps I can find a book on the theories and practices of comedy in the library. Unfortunately, I doubt such a book exists for talking to one’s wife.

With a small smile, you made another entry in your journal, noting each time he had made you laugh since the moment you met. True, he was not the funniest man you had ever met – not even close. But he had made you laugh more than a handful of times.

You thought he’d like to know it.

While I cannot say that today was the worst of my life – I do not imagine any day could be so terrible to usurp that title – I struggle to identify anything good I can report.

I did not sleep at all during the night. My mind was too occupied by thoughts of my betrothed. By the things I should have said to her these past two days and how she looks when she smiles. Gods, I do not think there is much in the world I want so much as to make her smile.

Did she think of me at the same time? Did thoughts of me keep her from sleep?

You had, in fact, had trouble sleeping. Though you could not say that it was because you were thinking of Aemond. Instead, it was mostly your worries that kept you awake, wondering whether the King and Queen liked you, if your dress would fit, and dreading the possibility of your misspeaking during the wedding ceremony.

Your thoughts of Aemond were few, and they, too, were mostly worries. But, then, he had said fewer words to you than you could count on your hands, so you were all but convinced he had not liked you. The fear that he would call off the wedding had loomed over your like a stormcloud.

And it was not an unfounded fear, apparently. Although his reasons for considering doing so were far different than you would have thought.

It was not only my mind that kept me awake but… other parts of me as well. When the hour grew very late, my thoughts drifted not to the wedding itself or the feast that will follow, but to the bedding.

Mother has insisted on a private bedding and no drunken escorts, after seeing how miserable Helaena’s ceremony made her. My poor sister didn’t emerge from her chamber for days afterwards, and Aegon was no help. He was drunk for an entire week after the wedding – or at least he was when he was at the Keep, which was rarely.

At least I have that. Finally, I will be alone with her.

I must stop considering it, or my body will again react to these sinful thoughts. For they are sinful – I asked Septon Eustace, and he confirmed that such thoughts remain sinful until we are wed. So, I will try and avoid them until that time.

There was a blotch of ink next to that last paragraph, which bled into the following pages through the small hole that had been pierced through the paper. As though…

The image of Aemond stabbing his pen into his journal in frustration came to you, making you smile. You picked up your own and wrote, ‘Some craftsman worked very hard to make you such a fine journal. It is quite rude of you to treat it with such brutality.’

I did not get to see her for more than a few moments today. She was late to dinner, as were both our mothers. They had been all but consumed by the preparations for tomorrow. They mentioned flowers and streamers, music and foods, and many comments about hair, jewels, and dresses that I simply did not understand.

And her damn father seemed more than happy to indulge them, asking so many questions about each detail that I was never once able to speak with her. Why he is so interested in ladies’ things, I do not know.

Everything else that happened today is hardly worth writing about. I rose early, trained until midday, briefly met with the tailor that made my wedding clothes and sat in on court.

Now, I take comfort that this damnable day is nearly ended, and I must wait only a few hours longer until we are wed. With luck, the sleep which eluded me last night will find me tonight, and I can pass the hours remaining in sweet dreams.

You remembered how you felt at dinner the day before – when Aemond was not there. The way you had felt his absence as though it were a missing limb. He had felt that way about you after less than two full days of knowing you.

If only you had as well. It would have saved much awkwardness and pain on both sides.

There was going back now. So, you read on.

The 12th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I am wed. We are wed. I am married – to her. To my wife.

She is my wife. She will be with me now, always. But… she is not here now.

Oh gods, why did I leave her room? I should have stayed there with her, or taken her back here. Fuck!

Several sharp, scrambling lines covered the rest of the page. Not even an attempt at language – just an expression of anger.

It was almost funny to think of. While you were lying in your bed with your skirt still hiked up around your waist, wondering if that would be the rest of your life, Aemond had been at his desk striking through the journal with his pen like it was a sword.

At least he knew he had been in the wrong?

I will start at the beginning, for I will go mad if I think too long about what I have just done – and what I should have done.

Today did not go exactly as I had planned.

Sleep again did not find me this past night. I simply laid abed, my mind racing and my cock hard. I just thought of her and longed for her and prayed that the sun would finally fucking rise.

Eventually, it did.

And not a moment later, servants came to dress me. I fear I may have been quite rude to them, but I was tired, and the wedding clothes felt much tighter than they did yesterday. I was left alone then to eat my fill before the official breakfast celebration, where I would be too busy receiving the guests to actually eat. But I could not– my stomach was roiling with nerves. I barely drank any of my tea, either.

I wondered what she was doing at that moment. If she was feeling what I was.

You had vomited from your nerves. Twice.

Your mother said it was only by some miracle that your dress was spared.

But there was no chance you would tell Aemond that.

I am almost grateful that Mother insisted on following the traditions of the Reach. For if I had to wait for the ceremony at midday with no distractions… I do know if I could have endured it.

Though, I do not know how I endured the breakfast either.

Every single person in the realm with even a drop of Hightower blood was there, all of them using the wedding as an excuse to curry favour with either the King, Mother, or Lord Hobert. The same as the other guests from the Reach and the few that came from the other kingdoms.

And then there was her family. Or at least the men of her family. Her father is one thing, but she has seven brothers! Seven! Though they were all perfectly polite, I am certain that they would be happy to kill me if I ever hurt her.

If I ever did – which I swear by all the gods I would never do – I would gladly let them. I’d even ask them to take their time and make it hurt.

There was also a great number of her cousins – who would also kill me if I hurt her. I lost count of how many there were, exactly, but it is enough to make a small army. Each of them brought gifts that were clearly meant for her, even though they were presented to me.

Aegon says I should simply be happy I received so many fine gifts – including two dozen swords and even more daggers – but I cannot stand being used like that.

At least my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife – only had to endure the company of the women in her family and not so many people who are practically strangers. I hope she liked her gifts and that she enjoyed her morning. The breakfasts are not a tradition where she is from. I do hope they did not displace any of her family traditions.

You did enjoy your breakfast ceremony. It was unusual at first, and you had to rely on the Queen and distant cousin who had married into the Reach to inform you precisely what you were meant to do.

And now, you were insatiably curious about the gifts from your brothers and cousins. Aemond had not told you about them…

‘Where have you hidden my presents, you rogue?’ you wrote in your journal.

Then, at last, the ceremony.

I remember very little of it, to be completely honest. But I shall never forget how she looked, or how the midday sun lit her in gold as she finally walked through the doors of the Royal Sept.

Writing this may damn me, but I do not care. She was is more beautiful than the Maiden.

Even when she is nervous, which she undoubtedly was. She never smiled entirely, but I could see one playing at her lovely lips.

Oh, and her voice when she swore her vows! I wish I possessed some kind of magic to capture that sound in a bottle, that I may listen to it whenever I wished.

Then I kissed her.

There was another blot of ink, as though he had hovered his pen over the page so long the ink dripped.

I do not possess the words to describe what I felt then.

Rumour has claimed that my heart shrivelled and died after that night on Driftmark. If that is true, then her kiss was a miracle from the gods, for it brought that dead thing back to life – back to such life that I felt I could do anything if she only wished me to.

Even as tears of something like joy began to fall from your eyes, you laughed, remembering what your eldest brother had said about that kiss, ‘It was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen –I had to watch all our brother’s bedding ceremonies.’

If I had my way, I would have done away with the rest of the ceremony and the feast then and there. I just wanted her, and I didn’t want to wait. But the moment I pulled away from her, Eustace started praying again, and I just had to stand there in front of dozens of people, looking at her and allow myself thoughts that, as of that moment, were no longer sinful.

Thankfully, my wedding clothes were not as tight as I thought. For if they had been, Aegon would have surely teased me for being so obviously eager for my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife.

I was so very eager – damn it all, I shouldn’t have done this either – that I only danced with her once at the feast. If I held her in my arms a moment longer, I would not have been able to resist kissing her again or dragging her away to my chambers long before it was proper.

You almost wished he had dragged you away. Although, considering how the bedding went, perhaps not.

So, I left her to the dancefloor and the many men – and Helaena – that also wanted a turn with her. I remained at the head table, not eating or talking to anyone. Not that there was anyone to talk to. Mother and Grandsire were making rounds, Aegon was chasing women, Helaena was dancing with my wife… the only one at the table with me was the King. I have nothing to say to him.

I do not know if I sat there for five minutes or five hours, but finally, Mother called for the bedding. I did not hesitate.

I actually meant to take her to my chambers, but we ended up in hers. I do not know why. Perhaps… I think I just wanted to see them. Two nights, I left her at that door, aching to go in with her.

Tonight, I did.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Something heavenly? But it was just a room, like any other. Though, I did spy two books on her table. One was a fine but worn copy of the Seven-Pointed Star. Perhaps I will commission a new one for her, bound in her favourite colour.

What is her favourite colour? She is my wife, but I do not know. I should know. I should ask.

But I don’t know if I can ever face her again.

I don’t know what I did wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. It – I’m getting ahead of myself.

When we entered her bedchamber, I froze. I was looking at her bed – where I would take her maidenhead. Where we would hopefully produce our heir. And I just froze. Froze and prayed.

I prayed for knowledge, for the Seven know I have no idea what to do with a woman. I can’t even talk to her. How am I supposed to –

A small spot of angry, squiggling lines.

When I was done praying, which I think took an embarrassingly long time, she was standing before me, her head bowed. She might have been praying, too.

I asked if she wanted my help to remove the various pins and pearls in her hair. Mother and Helaena have both complained that they become uncomfortable after a while. And I know that losing their maidenhead is already uncomfortable enough for women, so it seemed the right thing to do.

Besides, she has such pretty hair. I wanted to help her. To touch her and to run my hands through that hair.

But she said no. She did not want my help.

She was so nervous that I could see her trembling as she shook her head. I did not want to make any more so, so I did not insist further.

Nor did I want to move about her room without her express permission, for I know I would not wish a stranger to snoop around mine.

Can I be called a stranger if we are married?

I did feel the temptation to go to that table and look at the other book there. I suspect it is her diary, for there was no title on the spine, and I believe there was a thin strap holding it closed, as the pages have grown worn. It even looked as though other pages or notes had been tucked inside.

She keeps a diary, just as I do. Just as I am doing now.

Is she writing in hers as well? At the very moment?

If she is, I fear whatever she writes will not be very kind to me.

While she was removing her hairpins, she made a noise. She was trying to hide it, but it was so godsdamned quiet in that room that I could still hear her. It was soft, almost like a whimper.

That one little noise almost pushed me over the edge. Perhaps it wouldn’t have it if I hadn’t been hard for hours, but… I couldn’t wait any longer.

I had planned to remove her clothes myself. It was to be tender and romantic. But I heard that noise, and then she came back to stand beside me, and I saw her loose hair and the barest hint of her breasts, and all my plans vanished.

So, like an idiot, I told her to get on the bed. Fully clothed. And she obeyed! My sweet, innocent wife, who does not know any better, got on the bed with her fucking shoes still on!

I love her. I really do. So, so much.

That’s probably the most ridiculous thing to make me realise it, but that was it.

It wasn’t her fault anyway. I’m the one that told her to lie down. So if either of us is an idiot, it is me.

But I didn’t want her to think I was an idiot, so I didn’t undress either. Instead, I just unlaced my trousers enough to set my cock free. I stroked myself a few times to ensure I was ready – Orwyle said it would be easier if I was as hard as possible.

Then she lifted her skirts. She was undoubtedly a maiden, but her mother must have told her something, as I didn’t have to ask her to do everything. Though I did have to let her know that I needed her legs open – she had them shut tight.

When I got on the bed, I kissed her again. But it didn’t feel the same as it did in the Sept. Then, her lips were soft against mine. She pressed her lips back against mine, if only slightly.

This time, she was utterly still. Her lips were cold.

I don’t think – she didn’t want me to kiss her. Or she was afraid to, or…

Another drop of ink.

She was afraid of me.

I couldn’t look at her anymore. She isn’t supposed to fear me. She is my wife. I thought she wouldn’t look at me… like everyone else.

So I stopped trying to make it romantic. I just did my duty.

But the female anatomy is more complex than I had assumed. I looked at her – I do not know a polite word for it – and I admit I was unsure how to proceed. When I was with that wh other woman –

What fucking ‘other woman?’

You felt your face heating with rage as you read the beginning of that sentence over and over. The idea that Aemond – your husband – had been with another woman and was thinking about her after your wedding night was infuriating beyond belief.

Even after he insinuated you were unintelligent, or insulted your beloved robe, or walked away from you again and again, you had never been this angry.

You had more than half a mind to toss the godsdamned diary in the fire, storm into his rooms, yell at him a good deal, and demand answers from him directly. But when you stood and approached the hearth, you could not do it.

Aemond had trusted you with his diary, including this. He had marked this entry specifically as one he wanted you to read. Perhaps he simply hadn’t remembered what he wrote – no. He was too meticulous, this man who had started his diary precisely on the first day of the year.

He knew exactly what he wrote and wanted you to read it anyway.

So, after sitting back on the couch, you did.

When I was with that wh other woman, I did not look at her. Not there. I did not want to. But I regret that now.

I reached out to feel her, to try and find – I don’t know if it’s the whole thing, inside and out, that is the ‘cunt,’ or if it is just the hole – to try and find her entrance. That’s a better word.

She didn’t like it. She pulled away from me.

I thought it might be because my hands were cold, but I have never felt cold, so I warmed them before continuing. Which she did let me do! We actually apologised to each other at the same time. It was almost sweet. Or it would have been if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.

I tried to go slow when entering her. I really thought I had gone slow. It certainly felt slow.

When I was all the way inside her, it felt like – she felt like…

Several drops of ink.

Warm. She was warm, like sitting only a few feet away from a fire.

And soft, softer than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I don’t know how to describe how – her tightness. Not so much that it was difficult to enter her. I didn’t have to force my way in. I never would. Yes, there was some resistance at first, but after a moment, it was just right. Perfect, even.

How could she be so different from the whore? When Aegon brought me the Street of Silk and presented me with a line of women he had selected himself, he said it didn’t matter which one I picked. ‘A cunt is a cunt,’ he said. ‘You must simply choose which drapes you prefer.’

They are not the same.

Is it just because I love her? Because I actually wanted her, as I didn’t want the whore?

You didn’t think any sentence containing the word ‘whore’ could you make you smile. This one did. According to Aemond, you were better than a whore – you were perfect.

And he loved you.

He hadn’t been cold and distant that night because he didn’t want to lie with you, but because he wanted to so badly that he forgot his senses.

As your smile grew, you buried your face in the diary, grounding yourself in the smell of parchment and dried ink.

A few moments ago, you were ready to storm into Aemond’s chamber and unleash your anger upon him. Now, he once again had you giggling like a silly little girl. What power did he hold over you that allowed merely his words to have such an effect on you?

One word floated through your mind like a leaf on a breeze. A dangerous word, one which frightened you far too much to give voice to. Even if only in your mind.

Instead, you swallowed it and laid the diary back on your lap.

I thought that feeling… that she might feel it too. The euphoria that came with release meant that – that it meant something. That maybe I was mistaken when I thought she was afraid of me.

But when I went to kiss her again, she did not look as happy as I felt. She still looked afraid. Afraid and confused, like she was expecting more. Like I was not enough.

I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t face that look and what it meant. I can’t live in a world where she fears me. Where she does not want me as I want her.

I said that this marriage would only be a political arrangement, but I don’t want that anymore. I want more. I need more.

So, I left. I just… left.

If I were a man, I would go back there now. I would apologise and tell her that I loved her. That she is the most beautiful creature in the world and that I will do anything to make her happy.

But I am here, writing in this stupid fucking diary because I am too much a coward to face her.

I can’t just avoid her forever. She is my wife. I must see her again.

Thank the gods that we are not being sent on a royal progress. Not until we know for sure that the summer will last the year. But I will still see her. Tomorrow. She will be at court, at my side as my wife. And at dinner with the rest of the family.

Gods, what am I going to do?

Another stab in the page, this one not as fierce as the last.

I need help.

I’m sure Aegon is still at the feast if he hasn’t…

Not tonight. I am two days without rest, and I do not think I can restrain myself if Aegon makes untoward comments about her.

Tomorrow, I will ask for help. I have no other option.

I must see her smile again.

You ran your hand over the page, over the words that broke your heart again and again. As if in response, the pain in your stomach started once more. You reached for your teacup, only to find it empty.

Aemond’s diary fell from your lap as you sat up and leaned across the table to reach the teapot. It, too, was empty. “Damn,” you whispered.

Another pain came, accompanied by a sharp pang of hunger. Looking over to the window, you found the sun more than halfway across the sky. Had you really been reading for so long?

You wanted nothing more than to keep reading, but you knew hunger would only worsen the pain of your moon’s blood and possibly make you more likely to do something foolish, like go to Aemond before you had finished the diary.

So, you picked the journal up from the floor, marking your place with one of the green ribbons you had set aside, and stood.

Aemond’s words – his truths – would still be there after you ate and drank and perhaps called the Maester for something to ease your pain. For now, you would take some much-needed time to think through all you had read. All you had learned.

And you would write. While reading, you too often became caught in his words and neglected your own.

Aemond gave you his truth, so you would give him yours.

But after more raspberry tea. And a meat pie. And some tea cakes.

After all, he made you wait. Now it was his turn.

[moonsaver]

The care Package III

Our production line seems to be having problems. Our users are asked to cooperate as the packages have been mixed and sent to different users who had not ordered for the received false packages. This is a guide in the case our users are unable to, or decide not to, return the package.

-

Summary: refer to part 1 here! It contains Dr ratio and Argenti. Part 2 is here with Aventurine and Sunday. This part contains Kafka and Blade!

-

The Velvet Package

The package shakes a bit, and then settles quietly. You stare at it for a while, but no other movement seems to take place. After a while, you decide to open it..

The package itself is very neatly tied – it's purple in color and highlighted by silver linings, however, the fanciful ribbons seem amiss.. perhaps it was an overlooked detail?

On the inside is a Kafka, who seems to be enjoying her nap. Users are advised to wait for Kafka to wake up instead of taking the initiative. Some users report a pleasantly humorous experience, while some users report a mysterious and eerie one, if they wake up Kafka by initiative.

Kafka is a very pleasant one! Her Beginner and Intermediate stages do not differ by much. She is conversable, and does not explore her surroundings too much in the absence of User. Beginner Kafka will need a comfortable and relaxed environment – preferably one that has a very lively but slow-going vibe. Beginner Kafka however, may continue to feel distant with the user. Users may level up Kafka from Beginner to Intermediate by spending more time with her, and trying to understand her personal taste, asking opinions, and engaging Kafka in more activities that may deepen your bonds.

Feel free to pick up Kafka however you'd like. But.. the user must also know that Kafka will remember it very well into her Advanced Stage.

Intermediate Kafka is not so different. She may grow more curious, however, and explore her gift box for the default accessories that may have been gifted alongside her. Some users state their experience with Kafka as blissful, and some express their annoyance, as users have stated Kafka may play her Violin Prop 2 whenever she pleases, which is often, and even may do so in the middle of the night. You may try to come to a compromise with Kafka by setting specific time frames for her to play the violin. As for whether she will listen.. that is up to her.

Intermediate Kafka will also interact more personally and frequently with User – especially regarding medias revolving around movies or cosmetics. Kafka is especially helpful if you have a date night. Her skill, Insightful Understanding [II] may help decipher the feelings of those around you, and of yourself. She will often listen to your troubles and try to give meaningful solutions, or a good ear to listen. However – Kafka is also prone to teasing the user regarding some of their choices and feelings, which may lead some users to feel embarrassed. This is simply Kafka trying to deepen her bond with user, so please be open and friendly to her.

Advanced Kafka experiences and brings many changes that users may deem extreme. Kafka at this stage is described to be “close but distant” at the same time. She offers good advice, as her skill, Insightful Understanding levels up from [II] to [III], also giving her a bonus skill of Strategic Fear [II], letting Kafka be able to manipulate others as the user pleases. Kafka also would like to play strategic games more often such as Chess. She is prone to utilising the Toy Gun accessories in a strange manner, and may set up false targets to “practice”. Users are advised to let Kafka do as such, as she will continue regardless of user's satisfaction. Kafka may also go through user's personal belongings and set up many outfit combinations for user, give cosmetic and clothing advice, and help user with their personal taste. However, Kafka herself has very expensive taste, so she may request silk or velvet cloths for her own use. Users are advised to order accessories to please Kafka's demands from our Website, instead.

Users do not usually have to worry about ordering extra accustomed accessories such as Violin Prop 3, Sword Prop 2, etc.. for Advanced Kafka, as she may do it so herself. She will become much more self-sufficient, and may even go as far as to take care of and repair User's belongings aswell. 

Congratulations! Now you have a Kafka. She may grow up to about 5’7-5’8 in height, and will usually lounge around. Users are advised to keep a close eye on Kafka and not let her abuse her skill, Strategic Fear [II], as it may level up to Strategic Fear [IV], and potentially cause legal issues. {Our company has advised our users thoroughly, and whatever issues may follow are not our responsibility. However, if we deem that the User is too morally bankrupt, we may take back Kafka}. Kafka is prone to Loneliness [I] and will often want to spend time with User whenever they are free – but she may not verbalize these feelings, so users are encouraged to set up a routine Kafka can look forward to, such as movie nights, sleepovers, etc.. User may be able to assist Kafka feel less lonely by her Companion Feature – Trailblazer, Blade, Silver Wolf, or Sam may be added and housed alongside her. However, users are cautioned not to let them be alone for too long, lest they end up causing trouble..

-

The Black Package

The package is silent for the longest time. However, if it is left for too long, the package will start violently shaking, before bursting open and then staying silent once again.

Inside the package is a tired Blade – he is not comfortable or pleased with his circumstances of being tiny and inside the box.

Users are advised to immediately try and comfort Blade by using the accessories provided – First aid kit Prop 1, Music Box prop 1, Medicine 3, etc..

Beginner Blade may be standoff-ish, and very distant. He will be reluctant to leave his gift box, and interact with the outside environment. Users are advised to place Blade inside his box, and somewhere stable with dim-lighting, with little change and a lot of privacy and quietness. Beginner Blade takes a lot of time to adjust well to his surroundings due to his senses – Sense Enhancement [II], which makes him prone to sensory overstimulation and anxiety easily. He may growl if you try to force him out of his gift box.

Do not pick up Blade. He will not like it. It will increasingly stunt his growth if the user persists and insists on picking up Blade.

Users often complain it is difficult to level up Blade from his Beginner stage to Intermediate stage. We urge our users to be patient with Blade. You may help him by offering him comfort with Music box Prop 1, and converse often with him. Blade does not seem talkative, but he often finds comfort in User's personal daily life. Blade is prone to Loneliness [III], and may immediately delevel if neglected for even a day. Users are advised to keep Blade company for 7-8 hours a day – as long as Blade is within the user's vicinity, he will feel accompanied.

Intermediate Blade will continue his state of stagnancy, but will occasionally show some symptoms of growth – he may take the initiative and ask for User's day, hum along quietly to the Music box, explore his surroundings a bit more, and take a few trinkets of User to keep in his gift box. Depending on how often User may chose to have spent time with Blade, resistance against Loneliness [III] evolves it into Loneliness [I], and Blade will be able to feel more assured and less lonely in times of User's absence. He may also verbalize quiet and short appreciation if user chooses to leave by a small note of assurance in their absence.

Users are cautioned to be well prepared in advance for Advanced Blade. In this Stage, Blade is prone to Mara Deterioration [IV] which greatly affects his mental state. Users are advised to order for Medicine 2 as an accustomed accessory for Advanced Blade. You may also help Advanced Blade by his Companion feature, and bring in a Kafka or a Silver Wolf. They will help tether the Mara Deterioration to a level [II]. However, users are cautioned to not under any circumstances, house others with Blade's Companion feature – especially Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, and Jingliu. This may immediately delevel Advanced Blade back to his Beginner stage, and worsen Mara Deterioration to a [V] {Blade is at risk of permanent damage.}

Advanced Blade is quiet, and does not often converse, similar to his Beginner Stage. However, he is more open to exploring newer areas, and may take up an interest in his Sword Prop 4, and practice it on makeshift targets made of useless or waste belongings of the User. He does not demand much, except for the occasional pain medicine. However, Blade's Sense Enhancement [II] levels up to a Sense Enhancement [IV], and he will protect and warn User of any incoming danger or hazard that may pose a risk to their life.

Congratulations! You now have a Blade. He may grow up to about 5'10-6’1 in size. Blade offers a good ear for Users who often make light-hearted and easy conversation, and talk about their days. Blade may make an effort to verbalize his appreciation for User's support, so we urge user to remain patient with Blade. He may insist on being called Yingxing from time to time. {Our users are advised not to fret, this was the name of our previous Blade Model}. He may also offer to act as User's bodyguard.. as long as User is ready to take on the responsibility of his actions. {Our company has advised our users thoroughly, and whatever issues may follow are not our responsibility. However, if we deem that the User is too morally bankrupt, we may take back Blade}. Have fun with your.. Blade. 

-

[tremendum]

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Me and the Devil; iii

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader previous next series masterlist

word count: 9.5k

summary:  Perhaps it is not polite to admit to your betrothed that you loathe the idea of wedding them, but Paul knows the feeling is more than mutual. 

warnings: canon-typical threats, violence, getting stabbed, etc. also smut - brief oral (f receiving), fingering, light choking, biting, very brief dubcon (Feyd), unprotected PiV, rough-ish, outdoor sex, fantasizing, hair pulling. sharing food, discussion of alcohol (?), and religious trauma/defiance

notes: a bit of a long chapter for this one - with smut as well as some probably boring politics! sorry LOL but as always please please leave comments or feedback, i love hearing reader's thoughts and takeaways!! :) thanks for all the love on the story, i hope yall are enjoying it. new update on AO3 coming soon as well so keep your eyes peeled for that xx

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Concerns Rise Over Destabilization of Sabberon

In the wake of the unseating of House Bourbon and the resulting power vacuum on Planet Sabberon, concerns are mounting over the potential for destabilization within the region. Situated on a crucial part of the galactic trade route, Sabberon's turmoil could have far-reaching implications for the economic prosperity of the Landsraad's trade routes.

With no governing body to maintain order, rising insurgent groups throughout the planet threaten to plunge Sabberon into chaos. The potential for conflict and upheaval remains a significant concern for the wider galactic community - but there has been no comment by the Emperor at this time. 

This all comes to head a month before the Imperium's Annual Referendum, wherein new negotiations on Space Trade Routes will be drawn, along with the final Arraignment of the House Bourbon. 

- Collected Galactic News report sent to Duke Leto Atreides, 10191. Caladan. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

On the planet Sabberon, there is a trail that leads through the forest.

Past the Castle Bourbon, it winds up the slope of a mountain - and in the springtime, when the snow thaws and the glacier pours its icy veins into the rivers that trickle through the woods, the ground becomes spongy with wild grass. 

You crane your head to take in the towering mountains in the distance; They dominate over your vision, the caps bald with white snow reflecting so sharply that you have to squint. Those distant mountains never lose their ice even in the warm months, unlike the one you walk now. 

your hand reaches back across the soft fabric of the dress that covers your body, the sunlight shy and spring-like upon your exposed skin. Your feet are bare; cold, the tips of your toes stained with the dirt of the earthy soil as you pull a weight of warmth behind you. 

The trees rustle, bushes smacking gently against your bare arms as you make your way to a small, secluded clearing - protected by tall trees laden with chiffon ribbons of green; there are candles upon an offering pyre, loomed only by the Pine that grows tall and thick, towering so high that it disappears in the clouds. 

You're at peace. 

The sheet that lies beneath the safety of the Pine's branches welcomes your body as you lie, the sky streaking as the sun shoots pink and orange overhead. 

A body lies next to you; your eyes closed, you feel hands run up the side of your arm, caressing your side. Heat follows; your arm raises goosebumps but they're soothed over when a mouth lands on yours. 

His lips are eager, passionate, calm. You sigh into the kiss, hands reaching to the chest of your husband to find him bare; Skin hot, willing - desiring. 

Your breath catches; Try as you might, you cannot bring your eyelids to open, even as his fingers sneak up your bare thigh, slipping gently under your skirt to graze along your heat. pleasure follows his hand as you keen under his touch. 

Swallowing a gasp with his lips, your husband's fingers slip agonizingly slow into you; tingling with anticipation and desire, you let out a short moan. Your fingers clutch his shoulders; muscles strain underneath your nails as a phantom tickle graces across your forehead - you're unsure if it's yours, or his. 

His forearm is strong, his other hand cupping your neck as he slowly moves his fingers, stirring arousal and pleasure from the deepest pits of your memory. You'd expect to smell fresh forest, perhaps lustful sweat; yet you instead inhale and nearly choke on the tinny air that surrounds you. There is a vague, hazy observation somewhere in your mind: he smells different here, on the ground of the Sacred Pine. Not like the fresh, sea-salty clean of Caladan's soaps. Any thoughts of confusion at the metallic scent wash away as his hot lips trail down your throat, nipping at your heady skin when your head falls back onto the white sheet.

Following the soft moan you let out is a shush from his lips, gentle as the breeze through the needles of the trees; Ecstasy dances through you, lighting a fire of desire that has your legs squirming to close as your husband slides his lithe body between your thighs.

His presence is warm, thick - eager from the scent of you, the taste of you, the feel of you. 

Your eyes flutter open just a moment when his hands push, bunching your dress over your hips. The Pine stands tall above you; upside-down, you stare curiously as it sways, licks of heat igniting the top of it from the sky. The streaks in the sky look bizarre; almost unnatural, and a vague sense of unease strikes you before washing away.

The sun is dipping below the ridged peaks in the distance, but in the evening light, you frown as you stare upwards. It almost looks as if the branches of the Pine are... on fire; Before you can think too hard on it, his lips soothe over yours, pressing his own hardness against your eager heat. Your eyes roll back as a moan leaves your lips; the sound is warbled, as if fallen through a lake.

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the ridges of his spine as you go, gasping at the length pressing against your aching core. 

A wind whistles through the trees. In the quiet of the forest, you whisper softly, "I love you."

The words barely a breath against his lips as you fight against a smile of bliss. His hand snakes up to tug at your hair, exposing your neck to him as you hum, your eyes still shut in bliss. Your vision is blurry as lips find your throat, biting down and making you gasp harshly. 

The chill breeze flutters over your bare core, goosebumps cascading over every curve and fold of your body. But the more your husband bites down, the stronger the foreign smell on your him becomes. In a grunt of discomfort, you shove his mouth away from your throat - but his lips slide up to your ear, instead: 

"I know, pet."

A whisper - cold and sinister. A chill runs down your spine. Fear grips you tighter than a vice as you pull back in alarm, your heart pounding in your chest. 

Then it happens; a sharp pain punctures through you. 

With searing agony, you let out a blood-curdling scream, voice cracking as your eyes fly open. 

But as you look into your husband's eyes, you realize with horror that it's not Paul at all.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen smiles cruelly, watching with a hunger in his eyes as he pushes; but it isn't him, it's something else - your hand flies up to the pain between your ribs, gasping a choked breath as your grip covers his own, feeling the sickeningly familiar hilt protruding from you.

You look down in your terror.

In his hand, he holds your own nameday knife, the exposed part of its blade glinting in the dim light of the ceremonial candles that surround you. With a coldness in his gaze, Feyd leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, his breath hot against you and making your skin crawl.

Blood slowly seeps over your body, covering your dress and soaking the sheet below you, tainting the ritual in crimson. You cannot move, gasping in shock. 

"You're mine," he whispers, his voice possessive and malicious, his hand turning the blade deeper, smiling as you scream. "My wife." 

With a gasp, you jolt awake.

Your heart races as you struggle to catch your breath, the sensation of his touch still haunting you; a face hovers before you, and you lash out, fighting to get the body away from you. Your fist swings wildly from where you sit up, throwing as much power as you can in your blind haze. 

A hand catches your wrist mid-swing, effectively jerking you to the side as a gasp fills the room. For a moment, as your heart pounds, you consider how many moves it'd take to disarm your attacker - but when you blink yourself into focus, your stomach drops. 

Hestia, cheeks red as she breathes, her round eyes wide; her grip is firm, gentle, but her brows are knit with worry.

"-My lady," Her voice is airy, eyes searching your panicked gaze. "You were only dreaming."

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you blink rapidly, attempting to dispel the lingering tendrils of the nightmare that still cling to your consciousness. Dread fills you instantly, regret clasping your ribs in a deadly embrace. "My god," You whisper, eyes filling with unwilling tears, "I-I'm sorry," you stammer, the weight of your actions crashing down upon you as you realize what you've done. "Are you okay? Hestia, I didn't mean to-"

Her expression softens and she gives your hand a gentle squeeze, offering you a reassuring smile, her voice is soft with compassion. "It's alright, my lady," she says, "You were frightened. Anyone would react the same way."

You know she's lying to be nice. Guilt gnaws at your insides as you realize the harm you could have caused, and you feel a lump form in your throat. "I wouldn't hurt you," you say firmly, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. She blinks, noticing the absence that must linger in your stare. 

Hestia's smile remains unwavering as she shakes her head gently. "I know, my Lady," she says, her tone filled with understanding. "And you didn't. I'm just glad you're alright."

The bruises and marks from your old life took several days to fade after your arrival on Caladan, but she, nor the other maids, ever said anything when they'd smoothed makeup over the bitemark on your neck, slipped a tunic over the jagged scar on your ribs, or pulled the mourning veil over your face. Each of them are soft in their own way - kind, loving, talkative, and loyal to their House; and Hestia is your favorite. You never found this kind of humanity on Giedi Prime. 

Even after you and Hestia finish your breakfast, and she helps you dress, she doesn't ask about the dream. And you don't tell her. 

It is certainly not the first of these dreams you've had - yes, you've been dreaming of that place nearly every night since you arrived here; the mountains, the hills, the pathway to the open clearing with the large tree. Each night, it calls to you, singing a song you cannot hear; but never, not until now, had there been a man with you. 

Never had Paul nor Feyd-Rautha found you in those dreams.

A sharp pain to your side reminds you of that phantom knife stuck through your ribs, of the cold stare of the man you once thought you’d be with forever. You'd woken in fear from the nightmare, but the beginning of the dream had been... pleasant, extremely so - and it was because of... 

Paul, your mind reminds you, as you swallow the unease in your stomach.

No doubt in your mind, it is Sabberon in your dreams - you'd know those trees, that Pine, anywhere. But the sheet on the ground, the altar, the chiffon ribbons in the trees, the candles- it felt almost like a ritual. You've never seen nor heard of such a place in all your years. 

Dressing you is a solemn affair this morning. The worst moment of hesitation comes when Hestia holds up the necklace; it shines in the rays of sunlight, glistening with the precious stone that carves out the emblem of the Atreides hawk. Your jaw tightens when you back your head away from her slightly. 

She's not unused to this; it's been half a week since it was given to you, and each day you have bared your teeth as she clasps it around your neck - yet still, you wear it. Her eyes find yours, swimming; she can tell where your mind's gone so easily.

"You said he apologized?" She asks tentatively, and you huff a short laugh. "Yes. Only after I told on him to his parents, like a child. He probably hates me more, now." 

She gives you an incredulous look as she clasps the necklace over your neckline.

"He gifted you a family heirloom - my lady, look at it! This thing is older than the two of us combined." She is lighthearted, but it does not quell your distress. 

Your teeth worry into your bottom lip as you hum gently. "It's not as simple as that." You say with a shrug. Your eyes cast down, where your bare feet stand against the floor. For a minute, you see wild grass under them; a white sheet, blood seeping through it and onto your toes. Averting your gaze, you clear your throat. "I think he wants me to remember who holds the reins." 

A hand on your shoulder snaps you back into your own bedchambers and you swallow thickly. Her face holds nothing but honesty. "Or, it's his way of trying to welcome you as a part of House Atreides. He is not sinister, I promise, just slow to trust." 

You send her a look, "You seem to know Lord Paul quite well, Hestia." you say, not accusatory, but teasing.  

She, as expected, flushes red; you have to hide your smirk. "Nothing-nothing like that, my Lady." she insists, shaking her head. "My mother was the handmaiden to Lady Jessica. He is just a few years older than I - In some ways, though I am but a servant, Paul and I were reared almost as siblings." 

You nod gently, watching her face contort into something very warm, less embarrassed, "I've got no siblings of my own, but sometimes I think he is exactly what a brother should be." She shrugs. "Kind, thoughtful, always willing to lend an ear. Quite loyal, always standing up for what he believes is right, no matter the cost - and, if you'd believe it, he can be quite funny sometimes."

No matter the cost - like ruining a betrothal to a woman he thinks is a Harkonnen spy? You hide your grimace, knowing Hestia is only wishing to soothe your mind. Instead you force a smile, hoping it appears more brilliant than you feel.

"I always seemed to fight with my siblings." Your voice is melancholy - the idea of having someone so close, so familiar, feels like a distant dream now. "But they were my favorite people in this entire universe." You smile wistfully, clearing your throat as you slide on the hand jewelry she offers to you. She doesn't say anything, and you're grateful for it. 

"Family, by blood or bond, is a precious thing." You reason, pulling up your trousers and slipping on your shoes. 

Hestia nods in agreement, her own wistful smile playing on her lips. "Indeed, my lady."

You eye your reflection in the mirror on the wall; You stare sullenly back at yourself- beautiful, yes - but miserable. A dog with a collar for the Atreides leash. 

She claps, "Now, let's get you to this War Council." 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Paul lets out a sharp sigh.

An aseptic scent pierces his nostrils, contaminating his brain; Distracting him. The castle can become very sterile, deep in the more secluded chambers - the air has a chill to it, sharp with some kind of disinfectant.

"Concentrate, Paul.” His mother’s voice is low but commanding, "Project your will."

He can’t bring himself to look up - his mother stands just a few paces away, her eyes boring into him. Focus. He needs to focus.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he hums gently - flames flicker up the sides of his vision, though he pushes through - a large tree, smoke leaking from somewhere above where it pierces the clouds. A sigh of his name in his ear, hands tugging the curls at the nape of his neck. His nostrils flare as he shakes his head, letting out a small groan of irritation. Focus.

Within him, an energy builds; But as he begins to speak, a strange sense of trepidation washes over his spine, a nagging suspicion of unease. He falters in his words for a moment, confidence waning as doubts crept into his mind.

It's silent for a moment, before she sighs from across the room. “You’re distracted this morning, Paul." she states, her tone neutral. He bites back a sharp I know - instead he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “I didn’t sleep well.” He excuses, pacing towards the water pitcher. She follows, reaching for the glass he offers to her as she hums in thought. 

“Dreams?” She reads him so well. 

He pauses; Frankly, there is a giving degree to which he understands the Bene Gesserit’s plans for him, and this alone is cause for hesitation. He remembers the sheer pain from that box all those years ago, just after he'd heard the Reverend Mother tell his own lady mother that there were two candidates - for what, he still doesn't know - and that Paul may one day be one of them. 

He isn't sure what it meant, but there is a very sick feeling in his stomach that perhaps these dreams have to do with it. 

"Yes." He acquiesces, knowing she would have seen straight through any lie he'd fabricate. "I've been having dreams," he admits reluctantly, gaze drifting to the floor. He knows how it is about to sound. "Vivid dreams...of Sabberon." 

To an untrained eye, no one would be able to read his mother's emotions. But Paul's eyes are indeed quite trained; A flicker of concern passes through her. "Sabberon?" She echoes, her tone careful, the way it becomes when discussing matters of great import. "And what do you see in these dreams?"

Paul hesitates, the memory still fresh in his mind; in the beginning, it is always soft skin, toes imbued with the dirt. Soft whispers of his name from lips he has yet to truly see. 

And then there is your body, the skin of your thighs shaking as his lips move lower and lower. The gentleness of your sigh as he holds your hips down, the glint of a blade's hilt almost golden in the reddening sun. Your gown, thin and blowing in the breeze, the same color as the veil which still conceals your face from his wanting gaze even in the dying light; Streaks of color in the sky, snow falling around you. The soft fabric bunching by your hips, lying down softly on a white sheet. Your chest tremoring in the flickering light of ceremonial candles; Your own breath, warm and willing, upon his neck, hands moving lower towards his waistband. A soft moan, the smell of ash- 

He swallows thickly, staring at his mother with hesitation, jaw clenching.

He clears his throat, "I always see..." He chooses carefully the truths he will forgive, "a white blanket covering the ground," he murmurs, his words heavy with uncertainty. "Above, there's a great pine tree burning. Visions of...knives, and streaks through the sky; I think they are missiles. And we are there together... she and I."

"Lady Bourbon?" His mother repeats, her brow lifting. Paul nods, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. 

"I'm not sure why it's always the same dream," he admits, his voice barely audible. "Perhaps I've been reading about Sabberon too much."

He can't shake the feeling that there's something important waiting for him on Sabberon; It's true - you have become a frequent visitor in his dreams. Always there, always you - and somehow, he knows it's Sabberon. He sees it burning; he sees it up in flames, and sometimes, you with it. 

Lady Jessica sets her unused glass of water down on the table. "Be cautious with your dreams, Paul. Listen to them, learn from them." she urges, words leaving no sense of comfort in his chest. "Dreams are  messages from the deep."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Though it was but late morning, the Strategy Council found you quite weary.

You sit, toying with your fingers as you drown in a sea of House Atreides; The only solace in the room is your shortsword, laid in front of you on the table for all to see. Certainly a warning, this time. 

Nearly everybody you've met of importance is in attendance - the table is large and long, so much so that you know you will have to project your voice to be heard by the dredges of your periphery. War masters, strategists, women and men with intense stares and the symbol of house Atreides upon their clothing. 

After the table is full, Duke Leto begins the discussion with a brief introduction - you have yet to meet a handful of these advisors, and in your own introduction you have to fight hard not to sound too sharp or calculating, your eyes skittering to observe the details of your listeners from behind the veil. Worse than this is the fight to stifle your yawn as the duke reviews intelligence reports; Gritting your teeth, you sit up straighter. Now is not the time for your body and mind to punish you for the lack of sound sleep.

In an unfortunate glance beside the duke, you're startled - Paul, who sits beside his father, stares at the pendant hanging from your neck. A wash of chills fall down your spine. 

Until now, there's lived a cold silence between the two of you that has not been broken since it began the night he gave you the necklace. Cordial nods or a tight-lipped smile from him in passing, whenever a house member is around; nothing more would dare be said. 

If you'd been less indulged in your studies and training, or he less prideful, perhaps it would not have gone on this long - but seeing as you've barely been in the same room once since that dreadful dinner several days ago, it's no different. You aren't to be wed until the end of this year, but you know sometime soon, you will have to learn to live with him. 

Paul does not notice your attention on him for some time as his father speaks beside him; He is seemingly in his own world, gazing intently at the necklace in a way that gives you a rush of unease.

Suddenly, green eyes flicker upwards to find your own; You're unsure how he does it each time, for you know your face is well concealed unless only a foot away from you. It shocks you to your core anyways, and images unwelcome fly into your mind's eye.

Curls that kiss your forehead as he tilts his head down; His hand snaking up the bareness of your thigh. 

You swallow thickly, shifting in your seat. It's bad enough to dream of Feyd-Rautha, but now you're flushing like a child each time you catch your husband-to-be's eyes - like some innocent maiden; catching those very same eyes which regard you as a pawn on the chessboard of his House, no less.

There is not a part of you so vain as to lie and say Paul is not extremely attractive. With his dark curls, sharp angles, plush lips, and that cool voice, anybody with eyes or ears can tell. But even just this innocent observation makes you fight the urge to rip off the necklace, to scream at him - I am not yours to keep like a pet!  But before you can do much of anything, his gaze is gone from you, turning his attention to the matter at hand.

Begrudgingly, you try to do the same. 

Your eyelids droop as you fight to stare at the duke, who speaks in what you can only perceive as background noise as your mind soldiers on against your own will.

"Lady Bourbon?"

Your eyes snap up, heart suddenly beating hard under the shockingly paternal stare of Duke Leto. In fact, through the silence, you observe that every eye is on you expectantly, including Paul. He's concerned, it seems, as you snap out of your reverie, the embarrassment flooding you; Paul's green eyes bore into you just from the Duke's left.

"Apologies, my Lord," you clear your throat, willing your cheeks to stop flushing from the attention. "I've been having trouble sleeping lately. I've been having some...odd dreams," you admit reluctantly under his gaze, "they've been keeping me awake at night. Can you repeat yourself?"  

You do not miss the way that Lady Jessica's eyes flick to her son; His own gaze casts suddenly downwards, as if deep within his own mind. Whatever she is thinking, he clearly is avoiding - there is but little pause from the rest of the council, thankfully. Thufir Hawat denotes a remedy in the form of an elixir you can take before sleep that should help you - the Duke orders a servant to have it brought to your quarters this evening, and you forget all about the look shared between Lady Jessica and Paul.

You're painfully alert after this, and when you are finally called upon to share your thoughts, it is by Gurney Halleck. He leans forward, "My lady, you mentioned certain endeavors during your time on Giedi Prime. What do you know of their Spice exploits?" 

Your jaw ticks when eyes across the room fall to you, wishing to rid yourself of the cursed veil that constricts your face. Sitting forward, you clear your throat. "I do not know much of their spice harvesting - and it must be said that what I know is mostly second-hand. I learned most of it through Feyd-Rautha."

A murmur from the end of the table, one you are quick to squash; "He is vicious, but he has his own weaknesses that the other Harkonnens lack." You refuse to drop the duke's stare as the implications of your words settle into everyone's minds. "Spice is not their only source of power."

Eyes watch you, captivated. Feeling for once like you hold power over them, you continue. "They have large petroleum reserves - I've seen them, they're never-ending."

This makes the duke shift in his seat; likewise, Paul's brows furrow in thought. 

"From what I can piece together, my family was recording Harkonnen reserves and monitoring their activity with the Spacing Guild - not just for spice, but petroleum. I was none the wiser until after they were caught, but of course, who is to believe me?" You eye Paul at your words. He looks away, something like guilt on his face, as you continue. "-Which is why the Great Houses likely allowed for me to be brought to Caladan. In case I know something." Your eyes fall to Duke Leto. "Am I right, my Lord?" You ask. The room is quiet as your information is absorbed. 

"Yes." He agrees, eyes filled with intrigue, "We were... concerned about any acts of retaliation to our house after this ruling, and though it hasn't come yet, we need to be prepared." 

You nod. "When the betrothal was annulled, they were distraught." you say honestly, catching the guarding of several glances, "Not for some attachment to me, mind you. Feyd-Rautha was the worst of them when it came to the dissolution of our engagement, but the truth is simply that Harkonnens do not like when their toys are taken away from them." 

At the silence, you push forward, "Thufir Hawat has been tutoring me; I understand that the majority of the trading exports from Caladan are agriculture - fine wine and rice?" 

"Yes." Paul speaks up from beside his father. You nod, the chain along your headdress chiming slightly as you hold his stare for a moment. You wet your lips, "The Baron could easily flood the galactic market with cheap petroleum with almost no externalities for himself. An influx of cheap fuel like that could disrupt the transportation networks - the market would be saturated by the Harkonnens within days."

A moment as the information is taken in. "This would disrupt our direct trade access from our system to most others without use of the Spacing Guild." Thufir adds. The duke still looks at you, urging you to continue. You do.

"What I fear," you clasp your hands, "Is the vacuum left on Sabberon. There is no governing body now that my family has been eliminated." Your voice is cold, blunt; unemotional. "If Harkonnen boots hit ground there, they could take control of the planet's resources and exports. Harkonnen battalions could easily squash the insurgent groups there."  

"Sabberon's industries are commercial fishing, fir, logging." Says a woman a few seats from you, leaning to find your gaze.

You turn, nodding, "Yes, perhaps, but I more mean the glacial deposits within our mountain ranges - they contain precious minerals and ores whose compounds are valuable for industrial applications." You say, clearing your throat as you set down the pneumatic tubes you'd prepared before the council, "I've documented, to the best of my ability, what I remember here. Feyd-Rautha knows about Sabberon; I believe it is fair to assume the Baron does, too." 

In the lull of the moment, you think back to those days ago - Feyd’s hand on your neck, his smile black - You're mine to keep. There's plenty of life left for you to serve.  

Paul leans forward, brows furrowed. "If that region is destabilized- or controlled by Harkonnens - we will lose our all our exports. Giving them access to the resources is bad enough, but an almost-monopoly on petroleum, spice, and the Space Trade Route?" His brows furrow and you fight the spark of intrigue that courses through you at his intelligence. 

You nod, finding his eyes once again. Gurney Halleck speaks from diagonal you. "We need to consider our options carefully. If the Harkonnens make a move, we must be ready to respond, but acting first could have larger consequences." 

Duke Leto nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "Halleck's right. The Referendum is quickly approaching - the Landsraad will be redrawing the Trade negotiations then," his eyes flicker to you, "-and your arraignment is set for the same congress. We'll have to wait." 

Dread fills you; The meeting ends with a sense of urgency - plans are drawn out to set more strategy meetings before the Referendum, you are requested to record and attend them. Then you escape very narrowly by insisting to Duncan Idaho that you must rest today and postpone your weapons training, which he mercifully agrees with.

By the time you return to your chambers, you are much too exhausted to seek lunch. Instead, you are asleep within minutes. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Your name calls to you. 

You respond with a slight hum as you thread hands through hair; foggily, birds chirp in the distance, the sun setting as streaks fly across the sky. Flakes falls gently around you, but it does not smell of snowfall; a bonfire must be lit nearby - you can hear the crackling, smell the heady cedar embers.  

Your hair is tugged in a surprising manner and you gasp, catching the flicker in green eyes when you bring your eyes back to the body before you. "That hurt." You say, no real malice in your voice. 

The sound of your words is floating, faint, as a hand grips your jaw, tilting it up. "I'm very sorry," he says, not even trying to cover the lie, "Let me ease the pain.” A whisper, gentle against your lips. A faint chuckle when he nips down your exposed neck; His hands are incredibly daring, slipping your dress over your head until you're bare for him and the forest. The breeze of springtime is chill and disarming against your flesh as his fingers trace you. 

You feel nothing but arousal as he sinks lower, lips painting his way up your thighs, biting gently into the meat of your flesh; A swat to the top of his head and a short groan from him in response as you bite back a smile.

"Paul," you whisper, "come back to me." 

He listens, though he usually doesn't. His lips are replaced by his hips as he rolls them against your aching core; a gentle moan that echoes through the air. It is chilly, but his skin is warm. His lips are warm. 

"but I'm here, aren't I?" He asks, eyes staring into yours, "I'm always here." 

He slides into you with a groan, his fist thudding against the trunk of the tree behind your head. You let out a long whimper, arousal consuming you as your back arches.  Any semblance of chivalry is gone when he starts to move; A hand sneaking up from your hip, over your breasts, pinching a pert nipple before rising, fingers wanting, to grip around the necklace that lies on your chest. 

A finger traces over the emblem - a hawk, blue and shining, over your sweat-sheened, thundering chest. 

Barely a moment before he's ripping with force; the necklace breaks and falls apart, stones and pearls rolling over your bare torso and onto the sheet below you.

Muttering something about needing you bare for him - you can't quite catch it for all you know is pleasure as he starts to roll his hips into you. His hand snakes up further once having freed your neck; wrapping around your throat. He is not gentle, he is not slow; because he is your husband, and he knows you like the back of his hand. A groan from his lips as his hand squeezes over your neck, your gasp of ecstasy swallowed by his tongue. A whispered phrase, over and over, spilling from your lips and his - lulling you into a state of euphoria as his body rocks with yours. 

"I'm yours." 

Something rouses you from sleep, much quicker this time, and you wake with a start.   Broad daylight streams through your chamber windows when your eyes open, your heart thundering as you shift on the sheets. A blurry form comes into view, fluffing the untouched pillow beside you on the bed. 

"Bad dream again, my lady?" Hestia asks as she sets down a fresh set of clothing; you swallow your and wince at your dry throat, heart thudding. Bad dream... You can feel your face flood with embarrassment.

You'd rather be caught dead than admit what you'd just dreamt, so instead you push your hair from your face, fanning your cheeks. "Yes." You croak, accepting the glass of water she offers you. The sky is sunny - not a single raincloud - and suddenly your chambers feel heavy, tight. 

"I need some fresh air."  

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

The midday sun casts a short shadow as Paul walks along the meadow.

The breeze is much more permanent down by the shore; he brushes strands away from his eyes. It's only a few hours until he should be back in the chambers with his father, helping draw plans for the upcoming Referendum, but he needs some fresh air. 

His mind is stuck high above him, recalling the Strategy Council meeting. Paul would be struck dead a liar if he were to say you were not one of the most intelligent women he's met; after this morning, there is nothing much else he has been able to think of. The growing bud of admiration sprouts in him, considering your predisposition to violence and solitude.

Paul almost feels foolish for how blinded he was - if war is really on the horizon, he supposes it's very lucky that House Atreides took you in. If not for your capabilities and sharp intellect, then for your claim to Sabberon; Harkonnen power in that region would be detrimental in a war. 

It’s now as important as ever that Paul ensures you remain on the Atreides’ side, should this war come; a burden to hold you should you somehow wish to return to the black embrace of Giedi Prime, but one he will have to keep. 

You are too valuable to his House to let you go over trivial things. Politics are often two way streets; you will help them with your insights and they will protect you. 

For a moment, he sees that lush green forest again; a woodpecker against bark, your hands sliding into his as you lean him back against the trunk of a tree, the smell of smoke, an explosion on the horizon.

Paul sighs harshly. 

He's not sure if it was a smart decision to tell his mother about these dreams instead of his father; skepticism rolls over him in droves as his feet trudge over the cliff and down, closer to the beach. Paul loves his mother, but he is not naive to the manipulative nature of the Bene Gesserit - indeed, his entire existence is a product of their breeding program, and he is almost certain it is again why the Houses were ordered for you to be spared and betrothed to him. 

A small whisper in the back of his mind, the sickly voice of that Reverend Mother those years ago: Two candidates... Paul may one day be one of them. 

The skittering of a rabbit through the grass and under a rock calls his attention to the path, his jaw clenched tight. 

There is a small alcove - one of many below the cliffs which hold a number of tidepools small and large - on his path to the beach that catches his eye, just on the left. A soft smile grows on his weary lips. When he was younger, he often times used to play in these alcoves with the few other children his age in the castle, swimming, playing hide-and-seek, sparring with wooden daggers. 

His feet take him into the alcove without any hesitation, and it isn't until he's into the shade that he sees the figure seated among the pools.

You're wearing the same clothing you'd donned at the Strategy Council, your feet dipped into the shallow waters, back rigid as you turn to him. Even through the waves that lap against the rocks in this alcove, the silence that has lingered between you since Paul had gifted you the heirloom is thick and taunting him. 

With a tentative swallow, Paul takes a few steps closer. "I hadn't expected to find you here." His voice is carefully neutral, honest.

You stare from somewhere beyond the gauzy veil; your fingers twitch towards the blade on your hip. "Nor I, you," you reply coolly. The silence is uneasy; Paul, for his pride, does not wish to stay and endure this kind of agony, but he knows better. 

He doesn't ask if you mind if he joins you, because he knows that you would mind. He sits down anyway, leaving a wide berth of space between you. 

He can see you bristle, stiffening as he lowers himself to sit across from you - he supposes he can’t blame you.

You cradle your hand peculiarly as you look over the tide pool that he slowly dips his feet into, discarding his shoes on his right. The pain is almost palpable in your silence as he looks down at where you rub the skin of your hand, swollen and red. 

“I assume you found the crabs.” He observes. There is a headdress of jewelry adorning your veil today that looks quite heavy when you move - the delicate metal pendants chime when you turn your head to look at him, a hint of surprise laced into your posture.

“I did.” You agree, showing him your blistered, irritated hand; He winces more for your sake than in true surprise before letting his eyes roam. Moss grows in clumps throughout the rocky pools, his eyes searching for the stalky root that grows naturally just outside the reach of the water- with a quick tug, the plant nearest to him is ripped out.

“You can use this plant here.” He hands you the root of the stalk, gesturing for you to take it. Hesitantly, as if sensing a trap, you do; He nods. “Chew it.” 

You do nothing but breathe at him for a moment - if he could see your eyes, he’s sure he would find disbelief. Skepticism.

”It soothes the itch and the pain. Chew it and spit it onto your palm.” He orders, losing patience. "It's not poisonous." He affirms, lifting a brow at you. I'm not trying to kill you, he almost says; but something in him stops the words before they leave his mouth. 

He swears he hears a huff before the root disappears under your veil; he can just make out the shape of your teeth, biting down apprehensively on the stalk, before starting to chew. Your eyes flicker to him and he watches expectantly - from years of habit, he is used to the milky taste, but he remembers how unpleasant it can be. 

When you spit it out onto your palm, your eyes flicker up to stare at him, as if questioning if you were doing it right. Barely seen through your veil, he almost feels his face heat up; A trail of spit falls from your lips slowly and he is harshly reminded of the dream he'd woken up from this very morning. 

He urges the thought away, feeling a sense of panic, as if you could read his mind. So instead, Paul turns to watch the waves lap idly against his feet as you rub the mixture into your palm.

"How did you know to do that?" You ask, your voice curious. Your fingers not occupied with the paste push against the spongy moss; he's reminded of that first day, when you'd mentioned never seeing plants like it. 

Squinting against the sunshine as he looks out onto the beach, his left shoulder shrugs. "I used to get pinched a lot when I was a kid." 

You don't necessarily laugh, but there's an exhalation from your nose that makes his own lips curve slightly. When you reach to rinse your hand in the pool before you, the angry skin has returned to its glowing health. In the moment of silence, waves crashing very quietly within the cove and he hears the unmistakable rumble of your stomach. 

He must learn to live with you, he reminds himself. Be kind, earn trust. 

"Are you hungry?" He asks suddenly, clearing his throat. Your hand has taken to drawing idle circles in the tidepool when you shrug, "I slept through lunch today."

A moment of hesitation before he looks over his shoulder at you. He pulls out the food that he'd taken from the kitchen - apples, crackers, some imported cheese, sparkling juice from the vineyards. 

"This was all for you?" You ask, incredulously. Paul bristles defensively, giving you a look, "I was hungry." 

There's something very foreign to him about what's happening; with a hard blink, he thinks back to the last week, when all he could see when he looked at you was red. The council meeting today left him with a few more questions than he'd expected - it could be true, what you said about your family and the Harkonnens. 

"If I may confess," Your voice is light as you look down sheepishly; Paul's attention falls to you. "The veils have never made it easy to enjoy a long supper. They tangle in my hair no matter how it's styled, anyways." 

Paul huffs a short laugh despite himself - a hint of a joke, from you? He has known many women in his life to wear veils, but never in a custom such as yours; to not remove it in front of anybody for months and months of mourning - He cannot fathom how bizarre a change it must be, even if it is how you were raised. 

So when your hands raise, he does not expect them to go towards the hem of the fabric.

And the moment the veil slides from your head, he's turning his head sharply away; What in the hell are you doing? His heart beats hard, despite himself. In his surprise, he cannot find words. 

"I don't mean to shock you." You say suddenly, and your voice seems very close. "Truth be told, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to wear these still." 

He stares down at the moss and dark rock that you sit upon; thoughts whirl in his head until you throw kindle to the fire. "You don't have to look away, my Lord. I'm still the same beast as before." 

He does look, after that. He stares at you - really you - no fabric to cover the slope of your nose, the curve of your chin, the round of your cheeks - the way your eyebrows move over the most expressive eyes he's ever seen. Your hair is much more beautiful like this - textured, uncovered, being blown gently by the sea breeze. He wonders if Feyd-Rautha enjoyed your hair, unique as it likely was on a planet full of hairless beings. 

He schools himself. Normally, he'd be truthfully ecstatic to see that he has such a beautiful bride-to-be; yet it just serves to wash over another pang in his stomach. I'm still the same beast as before.

There is some inevitability to your gaze - disfavored to him, but perceptive, knowing. The sound of a saw must be known by a tree, Dr. Yueh once told him. Perhaps that is true, and perhaps that is why Paul stares at you, the sense of mistrust having mingled with a new sense of dread, of regret. 

You are no beast to me, he should say, but he doesn't; he knows better than to lie. "Why did you take it off?" He asks instead, still slightly astonished. You blink; heavens, your lashes are long, they kiss your cheeks. 

"I can't eat with it on, and I'm quite hungry." you reason, reaching for some of the cheese between you. 

"I thought you wore them for seven months." He states, tilting his head, as you begin to eat, "The anthropologists in the video said-" 

"-Seven months?" You interrupt, voice more animated than he's ever heard; it nearly startles him, the youth in your voice, the life. "That's a very long time. It's only been three weeks and I'd already like to burn them." 

Confusion must paint his expression, for your face changes sheepishly. "Forgive me, I am not well-versed in my own customs." Your voice is stony, a quick change from your previous cadence. His brows furrow. 

"My family did not often uphold many of the old religion's traditions, from what I remember. I was educated by the Bene Gesserit as my mother wished when I was young, and our family adopted their ways in replacement of the heritage religion. I was eighteen when I left Sabberon, but our castle was so full of visitors that we would often forgo the customs of my father's family." 

This is certainly not what Paul expected - why, then, have you been wearing the veil so devotedly? Your voice is regretful and if he didn't know any better, your voice was wary when mentioning the Bene Gesserit. 

"I have a book," He clears his throat when you look at him, confused. "If you- if you want to read more about it." 

You fix him with a look, "A book?" 

"About your family's customs. We thought it would be pertinent to know what your courting traditions are." He reasons. "If we are to marry, it should be honorable for both of us." 

It's as if his words send you into your own mind; your eyes become distant, he can see it clearly now that the veil is gone. You're deep in thought for a few moments, but he's unsure how to pull you from those cold depths of your own thoughts. "Oh." you say, voice once again that blank, cold tone - as if a wall had been snapped up suddenly. " I only saw the women of my family wear the veils once, when my sister died. I can't remember how long they wore them." 

This is a surprise to him, as his eyes find the necklace you wear around your neck. They shoot up to you just as quick, searching your face for any emotion. He finds none. 

I shall wear it like a dog. 

"The veil was not your choice?" He breathes, surprised. You shake your head, "I just very recently found myself able to make choices for myself for the first time in many years," You gesture to the veil that lies with its adorning metal headpiece to your left, "taking it off is one of them. Feyd-Rautha did not wish for me to wear anything from my home, but I am making the choice for myself now." 

The reminder of your former home is almost jolting to Paul; when you arrived on Caladan, Duncan's arm still bleeding with the result of your fight, Paul had seen a Harkonnen. A wolf, in sheep's clothing. 

Now, perhaps the Caladan air has changed you; Though you do not look a bit well-rested, there are healing wounds on your arms - wounds that make his stomach turn when he wonders how you got them - and you are not so fervent or distrusting as you were those first few days. You walk with less wrath, more credence; You speak with your chambermaids freely, you take sparring lessons with Duncan after Paul's every day, and tutor in the mornings before he does. Your voice was strong, confident at the council this morning; as if born to take on such a role. He looks at you. You will make a good duchess one day. 

Your eyes are large - searching his face and it occurs to him that perhaps this is also the first time you have seen him unobstructed. He lets you stare, taking in the silence and relishing secretly in its change in demeanor; no longer excruciating with the sentiment of shared disdain and mistrust. Something shifted this morning at the meeting: Mutual respect, or the roots to it. Understanding.

"May I ask you something?" He asks gently, looking at you seriously. 

It is a beautiful collar. I shall wear it like a dog. Fatigued from his lessons, the council, the marriage, the prospect of war with the Harkonnens, of his dreams; his head feels like it's swimming. Your brows dip slightly, as if your hackles are rising. "Yes." 

He swallows, "Do you choose to wear that pendant?" 

You lick your lips in thought and he waits patiently. When you speak, it is careful, stoic. "Sometimes, we wear symbols not out of choice, but out of necessity."

This does not ease his conscience. 

You, shockingly, speak up again after a few minutes in which you and he both eat the food laid before you silently; it occurs to Paul that this is the most you and him have spoken without being plagued by tense silences or passive-aggression - or been mediated by his parents as they ask you both questions at the supper table. 

"Did you intend on drinking yourself drunk this afternoon?" You ask, brow lifted. He shakes his head, shrugging with one shoulder as he follows your gaze to the bottle that lies unopened in his bag. The whiplash you've given him switching subjects has left him unable to jest back. 

Intending to be alone, Paul had not grabbed a glass, let alone two; he grasps the bottle, twisting on the cage atop it to begin to open it. "It's sparkling tea." 

You hum, shrugging, "Shame. I've never tried wine." You say. Paul's eyes flicker to you in surprise; Had you not been offered wine at supper here? Had you never had it in your youth as a highborn? 

"Not even when you were young?" He asks, shocked. You shake your head, a wistful smile gracing your lips; your hair is glossy even in the shade - Paul didn't expect it to be such a color, but suits you. "Never," you reply, "Where I come from, our preferred drinks are mead or ale, usually served warm in the winter. And..." You trail off, clearing your throat, "On Giedi Prime they favor a kind of liquor made from anise - you know, the spice?" You ask. He nods. "It's much too bitter and strong," you continue, your voice tinged with a similar bitterness. "I tried not to drink it when I could."

Paul looks out to the ocean - clouds have started to roll in, and the air feels thicker. It'll rain this evening, then. "In the South, all that grows are fields and fields of vines," He explains, recalling the last trip with his father to the South. "They make all kinds of fine wine there. Sweet, sparkling, aged." 

You hum, looking out to the ocean as well, your eyes clouded with thought. 

The lunch passes by in intermediate silence after this: Both you and Paul are insatiable, and in minutes the food is nearly gone. Besides, he is well consumed with his own thoughts to give him the company you do not provide. 

Though as you continue on, clearly trying your hardest to remain amiable with him, a sense of regret bubbles in his chest. 

"I owe you an apology." He starts out of the blue, mouth dry. You jump slightly at his sudden voice, but he refuses to look at you as he continues, "I've been acting like a child." This causes a flicker of surprise through your features; in his peripheral, you turn to him.

"I didn't expect for it to happen like this." He lifts a corner of his mouth mirthlessly, emotionless as he stares out to the ocean- an understatement on his part, and surely in the eyes of you, but it's true.

Perhaps it is not polite to admit to your betrothed that you loathed the idea of wedding them, but he knows the feeling is more than mutual.

He's not usually one for so many words, but they come forth very easily in the quiet of the cove. "I was furious with how things worked out, and I was shocked, but- that doesn't excuse how I've treated you."  You don't say anything, but he can feel how tense you've grown - his own shoulders are tense, his jaw tight as he runs a hand over his face. 

You have every reason to hate the Harkonnens just as much as they do.

The thunderclouds loom in the horizon despite the sunny sky just outside the alcove.

In a moment of resignation, he says your first name; Never having said it out loud, it comes out as a murmur on his lips, a small hymn that makes your eyes snap to his immediately. "We didn't choose this path, but we can choose how we walk it together."

Your breathing is heavy with emotion, but he is not naive enough to believe it is tears - "Yes, we can." You finally say, your voice dispassionate, withdrawn. He looks out where your gaze hits the crashing waves, staring at the foamy white caps upon the ocean.

"I swear I won't disrespect you again." He says firmly. 

It's a beat before you decide to speak, during which you lift your feet from the water, curling them under you.

"Thank you." Your response is curt, eyes sullen, "But don't make promises you can't keep, Paul." He expected this much. "I've had my fill of broken vows." 

You aren't hostile in your words; instead they are melancholy, as if a dreary wind had snuck its way into the little alcove. Paul stares down at the rock, where another small crab treks across the terrain, rocking in the gentle water tides. 

He knows you’re right, and he's soon filled with the same sense of dread that he's felt after each dream; the same melancholy which enveloped you as you rise, preparing to walk back to the castle. 

You walk together sullenly, little more than a few words escaping either of you as you go. By the time you enter the main gates, fat raindrops are falling on Paul's face and sticking to his lashes. 

You, likewise, duck from the rain, your hair pelted with water and sliding over your face like the tears you'd never dare give. 

But you don't put the veil back on. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

[hcsarchive]

BOXER III

nct dream (hint of the boyz)

details ␥ fem!reader x boxer!jaemin x boss!haechan x (maybe boxer!jeno???)

genre ␥ series, smut with a plot, fluff, lil angst +

warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, praise kink, cheating, threesomes, corruption kink, dry humping, violence, reader is sexualized a lot, food ~ if there is more please let me know. *some may not be included in all parts*

synopsis: You went to a hidden boxing match and stumbled into some door which led you to be investigated. Before you know it, the leader of the organization wants to keep you for himself but his most famous boxers do as well.

MINORS DNI

!!these characters are completely fictional and do not represent the idol!!

links to previous parts:

part one

part two

“we can’t wake them up, Jaemin gets mad when we do” Renjun says stopping Haechan from entering the room.

Jealousy starts running through Haechan’s bloodstream. You wake up to their whispers “what are you doing” you wake up confused but you remembered you fell asleep crying to Jaemin.

Jaemin made you feel warm and safe even though you met him last out of all the boys. As for Haechan, your heart starts beating fast and you feel like he’s controlling your body.

“I got tired I didn’t mean to-“ Haechan dropped the bags and carried you off of Jaemin and off the bed. “Is this going to be an issue” he places you down on the ground and you try to stand up but he pushes you down.

You have no idea what haechan is going to do, Jaemin is fast asleep and Renjun just left. “It won’t be, plus nothing happened” you look up at him. Haechan grabs your hair and holds up in a ponytail. “No one can touch you unless i tell them to” he pulls your hair harshly and you let out a whimper.

“How about a small tour to my room” he kneels down to you and whispers into your ear “Jaemin never settles for one girl so don’t start with your fantasies” he lets go of your hair and stand up straight. You didn’t even see him that way, atleast not yet.

You follow him but he stops at the door way. “I bought you clothes, try them on for me” he takes the bags that were blocking the door way.

You take one look back to see Jaemin sleeping and you close the door. You avoid making eye contact with any of the guys on the way to Haechan’s room.

He opens the door and sets the bags on his desk. You are amazed at how big and spacious his room is compared to how your room is. “Take that off” he comes from behind you and lifts up Jaemin’s hoodie off of you. “Haechan i’m not wearing anything underneath” you try to cover yourself up with your hands as much as you can.

“I bought stuff off of your wishlist and pinterest”you guess he’s still digging deep into your history. he takes out a black laced bra with a ribbon as the front. That was going to be the one you were going to buy for your anniversary with sunwoo. “I can’t accept that. It costs so much” you turn your back at him again.

Haechan starts putting the top on you and goosebumps start flowing around where he touches you. You buckle the rest up, although it isn’t much coverage it’s better than nothing.

Haechan circles you again and faces you, he comes closer and starts tying the black silk into a bow. “Such a gorgeous present” he grabs onto your hips. Your cheeks are burning and your whole body too, he hands you a bag that possibly weighs 10 pounds "Open it.

"I'm going to open it on your bed this is so heavy" you laugh nervously trying to back away from the tension. You rip open the seal and you see all the clothes neatly folded. "Oh god these are so cute" it is a bunch of folded-up pajama sets. Some were silk or cotton, most were neutral colored, and occasionally pink sets.

"I won't keep you locked up in here forever so this is what you can wear when I take you out" he pulls out three white boxes with gold lettering of a brand you have never seen. One had a beautiful off-the-shoulder slip dress, the other was a two pieces set, and a white dress with pearled details. "You'll look so good standing next to me with those" You start to get shy again.

The both of you silently open the rest, a lot of it is simple basic clothes. "What are you doing?" Haechan asks, taking the receipts out of your hand which you were stashing in your pocket. "This must cost a lot, I am saving them so I can pay you back once I start working again" he holds your thigh still and gets them out of your pocket.

"Like I said you do not have to worry about it, lets go put these in the washer. The maid won't be here til Monday and I want you to have clean clothes" he puts everything back into the bags.

"I'm sorry for making you mad, I feel bad receiving all this" You stuff everything back into the bag. You pick up Jaemin's sweater to put on but he takes it from you. "Take the sweatpants off too, you will not wear his clothes" You take them off and stand there wondering what to wear. "What do you want me to wear?" he scans you up and down, "this" he hands you the matching bottoms to your top.

You switch them fast and he starts walking out. A black button up is lying on the floor and you snatch it and put it on, it covers you up until mid thigh. You start buttoning it up and exit his room.

where's the laundry room?- you ask yourself.

Jeno is walking to his room and freezes when he sees you. He continues to walk to his room, so you just walk down the hall and you see the door half open and it ends up being the laundry room. You walk in and Haechan stops putting clothes in the washer. "That is a better look" he comes close to you and unbottons the first three. "So lovely" he kisses your neck.

"To be honest I have no idea how to do laundry so I will have to ask one of these scum bags" you grab his from his collar before he walks out. "I can do it" you also unbutton his shirt "I don't want you to" he presses you closer to him. "I can handle it," you say, "What this?" he kisses down your neck and to your chest.

"I want to open my present" he whispers into your ear, lightly runs his fingers on the sides of your thighs, and lifts you up on the folding table.

"Haechan do you still want me to wa-" you jump at the sudden new voice. But Haechan doesn't stop kissing you "Haechan," you say but he doesn't stop.

You yank him off by his hair and he lets out a groan. "Sorry," you say to the tall black haired boy. "It's um...fine. I should be the one to apol-" he looks everywhere but your eyes. "Jisung just start washing" Haechan snaps at him and Jisung nods at him. "Words" he raises his voice but you tug on his hair to calm him down.

"Be nice, he is doing me a favor" You let go of his hair and hop off the table. He glares at the both of you and walks out "I'm sorry that he's making you do this. Thank you" Haechan grabs your arms and yanks you out of the room.

"Don't talk to him, I do not need another person to be angry at tonight" he lets go once you guys reach the hallway. "The food is ready" Renjun's voice echoes through the house.

"Let's go eat" he mumbles, his mood changes again. You frown and follow closely behind, you stop midway and tug on his sleeve. "Can you bring me my shorts from my room" you whisper to him.

"It's fine, it's not like they haven't seen legs before" he continues walking and you still hold onto him. "Please," you say but he continues walking and goes into the kitchen. You enter shortly after; Renjun, Jeno, Chenle, and Mark are preparing the food. Haechan is at the end of the kitchen sitting at the dining table on his phone.

The others haven't noticed you entered but you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and it's Jaemin "Here are your shorts" he hands you your spandex and you smile at him. "Thank you" You are about to put them on but he stops you. He unzips his sweater and covers you so you can put them on.

Now everyone in the kitchen has eyes on you...and Jaemin. Mark is laughing and whispering into Renjun's ear, Jeno is staring at you with a blank stare, Chenle smirks and looks back at Haechan. Haechan is eyeing you and back to his phone. "Jaemin you are training the newbies tomorrow," Haechan says.

"What? You said Jeno would be in charge of them, why me?" Jaemin raises his voice at him.

"Oh, you know why?" Haechan sets his phone down and crosses his arms.

"Why 'cause you're a possessive piece of-"Jeno covers Jaemin's mouth.

"You do not want me to tell them what you have done" Haechan walks up to them. Jeno lets go of his jaw but still stands in between them.

"Drop it, I just think you would teach them way better than I can. He was making it a big deal about earlier" Jeno says but he whispers the second part which you hear since you are a couple feet behind them. "Y/N you can take a seat," Renjun says walking through Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin to signal to break up the trio with his big bowl of meat.

"We have a guest stop acting like animals" Chenle joins the table. Mark comes with a small grill to cook the meat in. "Can the rest bring the rest of the dishes while we grill these" Renjun looks around.

None of them get up because they are angry, Jeno does and so do you. You were a server in high school so handling multiple plates wasn't an issue. As you were putting them down you felt a strong energy of eyes on you. You turn to your right and Haechan is deeply staring at you. You quickly set the last plate and turn away but meet with Jeno's eyes who was standing in the middle of the kitchen with two plates in his hands.

"Sorry, I can get out of your way now" You squeeze past Haechan's chair and Jeno's side. You speedwalk to the kitchen island and let out the air you were holding. Back at home, you were used to being around multiple guys due to Chanhee and Sunwoo being friends with a fraternity but this is different.

You grab the last side dish and the pitcher of water. Everyone is seated but everyone is looking your way, you look at them in confusion. You then remember what you are wearing.

Once you sit down you button your shirt up, and you are seated next to Haechan and an empty seat. The room is silent and you feel so tense, to break the silence you decide to bring up the fact that Jisung is not here. "Is Jisung coming?" you ask Haechan.

"Yeah I sent him a text" Haechan takes your plate and serves you everything. "Oh I don't like carrots" he sets the spoon back down with the carrots. "Thank you" You take the plate from him, and start eating. They all slowly start talking and you finally start seeing them as a group of friends. I guess being business partners and friends is a weird transition.

You eat silently and observe everyone. Jisung finally comes in and sits next to you. They all start serving and offering Jisung food, "aww man there is no more gyeongdans" You look down at your plate with two.

"Here you can have mine" before Jisung even answered, you set both on his plate. "Thank you" he smiles shyly. Haechan sets his free hand on your thigh and your leg twitches at the sudden cold contact.

He starts messaging your bare leg. His hands get closer to your inner thigh, he runs his fingernails up and down. You look at him and he’s casually talking. You stand up and grab the half full pitcher, “I’m getting us water” you walk to the kitchen to fill it up but Haechan follows. “Why did you run away” you felt like his prey that ran away but found you shivering behind a bush.

“I just didn’t want you to go farther in front of everyone” you say looking down at the pitcher. “Did you think I was going that far” he pressed his body to your back takes the pitcher from you. You don’t say anything because you’re afraid to offend him “Did you want me to” he speaks up again.

“I don’t. know” you turn to him trying to back away from the corner where the water cooler was but he is blocking the whole thing. He grabs you by the neck but not enough to choke you. “They’re all shooting glances at you and Jaemin specifically. What did you guys do while I was gone” his expression gets angrier.

“Nothing” he grips your neck harder which makes your body turn hot. “We just watched a movie after I washed up. I ended up falling asleep and I guess he did shortly after since he didn’t sleep at all last night” he releases you.

“If he ever makes a move on you or even touches you, you tell me. Do you understand” he says possessively. You nod yes but he chuckles “you look so cute when you’re scared, he unbutton your shirt again with his free hand.

“I don’t want them to see me” you cover yourself. “I’m just marking you so they know you’re mine” his soft lips are pressed against your bare skin. He sucks and bites a bit of your skin. A small whimper leaves your mouth, the more pain he cause to your body- the more it heats up.

“I don’t want to go back in there. It’s embarrassing” he looks at you and chuckles. “What are all the public humiliation stories that are in your history then. I can make your fantasies come true but if you are all whiny about it, it isn’t all that fun for both us sweetheart” he sets the pitcher down on the counter and leans against it.

“I just didn’t think anyone would find out or want to do it” you whisper. Jeno comes into your view and you try to hide in the corner. He grabs a beer from the fridge and leaves.

Haechan grabs your arm and moves you about two feet from where you’re standing. “Start walking, you did this in front of Jisung earlier. Why aren’t you listen to me” he always gets his way and you not listening is a shock to him.

You walk past him and move your chair next to Jaemin. You stare at Haechan, and he notices where you moved. Everyone goes silent, you eat starring directly towards Haechan across the table. Half of your sleeve slips down revealing more. You lean over the table to grab something.

“Jaemin my office now” Haechan stands up and Jaemin gets up but before he steps out he lifts up your sleeve. You eat in silence look at both of them leave.

It got silent but slowly they started to talk amongst themselves. Shortly after, you were done with your food so you picked up your plate and washed the dishes.

You thank the guys for the food and tell them that you’re going to your room. You laid in the bed just starring at the painting on the wall.

The door open and you jump from the position you were in. “What were you doing?” Jaemin laughs.

“I was starring at the paint” you responded and Jaemin nods.

“Well I’m here to apologize. I was too clingy according to Haechan, and I was just trying to be welcoming since I know this situation can be intimidating. I will be out tomorrow for training so I won’t get us in trouble” he chuckles but is getting a tad bit shy.

“You weren’t clingy. I enjoyed your company, thank you and I’m sorry I got you in trouble. He was making me mad” you look at him and he is smiling at you.

“Don’t worry I am used to his whining. Also you aren’t obligated to listen to him all the time. Go to me, Jeno, or Renjun. We are the ones that Haechan will listen to, well sometimes. goodnight y/n” he grabs the door knob.

“Goodnight, thanks again” you sigh and wave to him. He leaves and you are left in an empty room. You get under the covers and try to sleep but it’s barely 8pm. Having nothing to do and no technology is not helping.

You peek out of your door and you hear that they’re still in the living room. You hear footsteps and you close your door as silently as you can but the door gets stopped by a hand. It was Haechan so you just closed the door. He opens it again “don’t be mad at me princess” and walks towards you.

Haechan sets his head on your shoulder. His breath reaches the side of your neck, he guides your body to walk backwards. You’re laying half of your body flat on the bed while Haechan sets himself on each side of you. His chain is dangling in front of your face and kisses your forehead. You pull his collar to finally kiss his lips, they’re just how you imagine them. He isn’t as harsh as you want him to be so you tangle your fingers through his hair and pull him closer to you.

He starts to be more rough and sloppy. You break the kiss for air and for him to calm down but he continues to cover your collarbones in kisses. “Haechan” you whimper his name as you are still holding onto his soft strands of hair. He stops and looks up at you, he pulls down his loose shirt you have on.

He bites down on the silky bow and he slowly pulls it about to untie the front.

*soft knocks at the door*

“Of course” Haechan gets up and opens the door enough to peak his head out. “Im almost done with her laundry. I came to drop it off” you hear Jisung says and see his eyes peeking over Haechan’s head since he’s taller.

Before Haechan says anything rude you yell thank you to him. “Bye” Haechan grabs the clothes and slams the door.

You run to the door and Jisung is still there with an offended look “Thank you Jisung I appreciate it. You can leave the rest for me to do, don’t worry about it” you smile at him.

“No problem, goodnight” Jisung doesn’t say much because Haechan is behind you glaring at him.

“Why not suck his dick while you’re at it” Haechan says closing the door.

“I haven’t had some in a while so why not” you grab the freshly dried clothes and start picking.

“Don’t tell me you want him instead of me. I can give you more than anyone in this house could” his cold hands come in contact with your bare stomach and his fingertips tease the waistband.

“You probably say that to every girl you meet” you rest your head on his chest still standing against the bed frame.

“You don’t know me sweetheart” he puts his knee between your thighs.

“I could say the same to you” you scoff at his response. Haechan places his hands on your hips and guides your body to move on his thigh.

“What did I say about talking back” you don’t respond because he quickens the pace. You lean over slightly on the bed and arch your back to get more friction.

At this point your feet are floating in the air and he’s moving his knee to match your pace. You try to hold back a moan but it comes out when you feel his bulge getting hard on your ass. “Haechan I can’t” you roll your hips on him faster like a bunny in heat.

“You’re so wet. That pretty little mouth of yours says my name so right” he stops and drops his knee along with you down.

You stand up straight and turn to him. “I want more” your nails scratch down his back. “Please” you take off your shirt and crawl on top of the bed now looking directly at him.

Haechan isn’t moving from where he is. His eyes say something else and so does his hard member. He gets closer to you and whispers “This is your punishment, I suffer too but that’s what makes it fun” he leaves not caring.

You’re left with your mouth open.

Your thighs are literally dripping wet.

I cannot believe i got edged by a knee- you say out loud to yourself.

You scream into your pillow and just feel your cunt pulse. You go and change into fresh new clothes after cleaning yourself up.

This is going to be worse than you thought…

*the next day*

~Jaemin’s pov~

I was already in the bad mood after overhearing the shit Haechan told y/n but I know she won’t fall for his possessiveness.

I get to the training rink at around 7am ready to take out my anger on some of these newbies. I see Jia clinging onto the same guy she always does, you finally have a face to the name. He is the one that broke y/n’s heart.

“Start warming up with a partner. We are uneven so Sunwoo come warm up with me” I try to act professional but something in me makes me want to punch him. After what he did to make a beautiful girl cry to the point where she knocks out is insane to me. If i ever had her, i would treasure her and hold her every bit i can.

“How do you know my name” -sunwoo

“I don’t know you tell me” i swing at him slow but he dodges.

“Know idea man, but I’m honored” he throws a punch at my chest but I don’t move an inch.

“there’s three rinks. I will be observing the five of you. No body work or being a brawler during this. I want to see skill so do not try to speed things up and try to get your partner to ground or off the rink the fastest. Boxing isn’t just a race…it’s a mind game, it takes time to perfect each throw or move, so show me the best you can do” I genuinely like boxing so I’ll try my best to not get my anger in the way.

I am seeing them fight but all I can think of is y/n, seeing how her ex boyfriend is here being watched by another girl. “Jia can you please go rehearse with the other girls or do something else” i sit down in the referee where she is as well.

“why, I am not doing anything. I’m just watching” Jia says but she looks at my annoyed face and she rolls her eyes.

“Weirdo” she leaves.

I circle around looking at them switch partners and keep slamming each other. Three laps around the two rinks, sunwoo was off to the side waiting for his turn.

“Sunwoo come with me” i guide him to the empty rink. “Want to know what a haymaker is” he nods yes and you do it to him.

“Haymaker: A desperation punch thrown with full force and with the intent to knock an opponent out.” i smile down at him in pain on the floor.

“You know the meeting you had yesterday” i ask and he nods struggling to talk because of the pain.

“Take me to y/n’s place or it won’t be easy for you to be here” he swallows nervously and stands up.

“Ok, I have spare key” he shoves his shoulder with mine on the way out to the locker rooms.

“That’s all for today. You’re welcome to stay and practice or head on out for the day”

~end of Jaemin’s pov~

*on the way to your apartment*

The ride is silent, “How do you know y/n and why do I have to bring you?” Sunwoo knows a little bit of what Haechan and his crew do behind doors but Jia never really mentioned much to him.

“She just asked me to mail some stuff to her. I was in some of her classes” Jaemin says coming up with a lie.

“Why would she tell you out of all people? I have a spare key and so does my friend who’s best friend’s with y/n” Sunwoo is getting suspicious not wanting to take Jaemin. If he didn’t take Jaemin it’ll put his boxing career at risk, he already lost his gf due to it.

“Well I’m not sure if you remembered the part of cheating on her for a couple of weeks and she simply doesn’t want to see familiar faces” Jaemin gets out of the car and follows Sunwoo into the apartments.

Sunwoo is cussing Jacob in his head since he was the one who brought her in. He is connecting the dots on where you’re staying. “Is she staying at your house?” Sunwoo says standing in front of the door.

“Don’t worry about it. You aren’t dating her anymore” Jaemin smirks at him wanting to make him mad.

“I still care for her. Plus last time I saw her, your coworkers took her and since you know her…you’re probably the first person she ran to” Sunwoo opens the door.

“Why what would you do if she was at my place” they door enter into your apartment.

“I do want to apologize i’m not a complete asshole” he sits on the couch and Jaemin is observing everything.

Jaemin first takes your pile of mail and your laptop you left on the coffee table before you went to Sunwoo’s place. Luckily you have a online shopping addiction so you have coxes laying around the house.

Jaemin enters your room and starts putting your clothes into the boxes. He opens your underwear drawer and is mixed with other things. Sunwoo comes in and Jaemin picks up two toys. “Guess you weren’t doing your job buddy” Jaemin throws them into the box and covers them with socks.

“You’re lucky you’re stronger than me” Sunwoo clenched his jack. “These are dirty but they’re her favorite jeans. Take her pillow she can’t go to sleep without it. For makeup and everything else is in that desk she’ll probably want that too. Let me go get her shoes, I’m not sure how long she’ll be out but she’s an over packer regardless” Sunwoo paces around your room looking to see what else.

“For someone who cheated. You do sound like you care for her” Jaemin is in shock by what he is doing.

“I mean i’m the bad guy and she deserves to be comfortable wherever she is. If she’s with you man- please take care of her for me” he rubs his face. “I fucked up and I was being selfish” he whispers to himself.

Jaemin sighs “Just help me fill up this box” Sunwoo walks to your closet and picks out different dresses and your platform heels.

“I think four boxes is enough” Jaemin gets two and Sunwoo gets the other.

A security was already picking Jaemin up. “Thank you for letting me in, see you at practice” Jaemin takes the boxes from him.

“See you” Sunwoo is so embarrassed he doesn’t know if he still wants to attend that match.

———

~Haechan’s House~

You were left inside the room the whole day. The only interaction you had was Jeno bringing you food and snacks. Haechan had to deal with something out of town.

Since there wasn’t much to do, you decided to give yourself a everything showed and then a hair blowout. That roughly took two hours out of the day and your hair looks good. Haechan did buy you a little bit of makeup since he looked through laptop…again. It came in the mail today so why not give yourself a full glam.

You wanted to look cute but comfortable so you put on the skirt pajama set that looked like a regular outfit. A quick look in the mirror and you are twirling like a ballerina.

The door opens and it’s Jeno. “Oh i’m sorry i just knocked a couple times i thought something happened” he looked at you up and down. A couple hours ago he saw you with knots in your hair and stains on your shirt. Even then he was still nervous around you but you weren’t aware.

“It’s alright. i was in my zone, you don’t have to bring me snacks every hour jeno. Don’t over work yourself on your day off” you laugh at how he brought another plate.

“Oh ok. I just don’t know how to take care of you. Jaemin made it seem easy” Jeno scratches the back of his head.

“You did a great job, the both of you. I truly feel bad how Haechan puts you guys to do stuff for me because I live by myself for a years so literally anything you guys do i’m appreciative” you grab onto his shoulder and he tenses up even more.

“We don’t mind honestly, i’ve done worse things. I’m going to be in the training room so if you need anything just step over. It’s a couple doors to your right” Jeno avoids eye contact and leaves.

You check if the coast is clear after you hear Jeno head into the training room. You go to the living room and watch the tv on mute with captions.

An hour passes and a door opens you jump to turn off the tv and duck under the couch. “I can still see you” Jeno walks over to you all sweaty in a tight muscle tee.

“Can I please be out here. I promise i’ll be good Jeno” you sit up and plead that he says yes.

“Fine but be in your room before I come out of the shower” he walks to his room and you’re smiling.

Jeno is trying his best to be cool. What no one knows is he was one of your top anonymous gifters on twitter. It was your side hustle every once in a while but Jeno will check everyday. Apparently no one has brought it or Haechan is keeping your account a secret. Sunwoo never knew about it or anyone in that matter.

Jeno is standing in front of the mirror still in shock that you out of all people end up here. You look so pretty today and he just can’t take it anymore. Jeno can’t say anything to Jaemin because he already became close with you. Renjun will freak out and tell Haechan, Chenle and Mark do not keep a secret. Which leaves Jisung but you aren’t too sure if it’s a good idea because he is worse than him at things like this.

Visions of your videos and picture start appearing in Jeno’s brain. He gets out his phone and looks up the username “yup it’s definitely her, fuck” he undresses and turns on the shower. A video of you on a pillow was the latest you posted, he can’t look away. His dick is now hard, he steps in the shower and starts pumping himself. Water droplets hit Jeno’s phones so he throw his phone in the sink. He envisions sneaking into your room and you riding him instead of the pillow.

He releases and sighs. This won’t be easy for him, he washes himself and gets out of the shower. He then gets dressed and dries his hair.

You are still sitting in the living room watching a random episode of regular show. The thousands of locks are opening one by one and you panic. You can’t find the remote or the off button so you run to the nearest closet which is the coat closet.

“Y/N you can come out of the room I have-“ Jaemin opens the closet you were in.

“What are you doing” he laughs.

“Jeno let me watch tv and I didn’t have time to run to my room” you say embarrassed.

“Well you’re lucky it was me because you chose the worst place possible to hide” he pulls you out and you smile at him. “I missed you, you’re the only one that treats me normal here” you hug him and he hugs you back.

“You look extra beautiful today” he strokes the back of your head as he hugs you. “Stop, I got bored” you pull away and see he hasn’t closed the door.

“I have a surprise for you. Since I had training with yk who. I made him take me to your apartment to bring your stuff” he brings in the boxes and you gasp.

“No way oh my god” you screech and jump up and down. You follow Jaemin with a box in your hand. Jeno comes back and sees the two of you on the couch.

“Hey Jeno” Jaemin dabs him up and he smiles at him. He sits next to Jaemin and you’re on the floor opening the first box. “Jaemin brought some of my stuff look” you pull out your plushie.

“I also brought you your pillow sunwoo told me” Jeno chocked on his saliva. It’s the same pillow and pillow case from the video he just watched. He looks away and watches the tv.

The first box had a plushies, your notebook, and the books you were currently reading. You opened the last one and take out some hoodies, you thought you were done but you pull one more hoodie and your toys and underwear are there.

“Oh god” you close the box and look at Jaemin then Jeno. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about princess. Go hide them” he whispers at the end.

You stay silent and slowly get up to your room. You do as told but you cannot believe he found then and also brought them to you. They follow you with the rest of the things shortly after. You put the clothes into the drawers.

You are bent over and your skirt flaps over half of your ass. Their eyes are glued to your exposed skin. You turn around and take the clothes they’re holding. Jeno swallows hard when his eyes meet yours “thank you” you smile and put it in the top drawer.

Jeno leaves without saying anything and Jaemin is still holding your stuff speechless. He did find you attractive but he wanted to respect you since Haechan clearly doesn’t and he can now see why.

“All done” you tasks the last thing off of his hands. “I really appreciate it Jaemin” you smile at him and he does back.

“No problem” he grabs onto your waist. “Sorry that I didn’t ask for your permission to look through your personal stuff” his thumb rubs your bare stomach.

“It’s fine, did he say anything?” he looks down at you concerned. “He does feel bad but it doesn’t eliminate the fact that he hurt you y/n” he gets closer to you.

“I know but part of me still wants him back” your heart breaks. “Jia was there during practice. They’ve been together for a while” your heart shatters.

“He wasted my time, it was too good to be true” you roll your eyes.

“You deserve to be treasured and loved. I beat the shit out of him for you” Jaemin said and your heart starts beating.

“Did you?” you put your arms around his neck. “I did, I had to humble him” you smile at him and his eyes move from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes.

It gets silent but you both lean in, your lips are less than an inch apart. “Can I kiss you?” Jaemin asks.

“please” your lips close the gap. He kisses back and breaks the kiss. “you’re so beautiful” he kisses you again but with passion. He lifts you up and you wrap your feet around him.

You guys look at eachother with huge smiles. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait much longer. I wanted to do it since the first time we spent the day together” Jaemin’s cheeks turn pink and you giggle at his apology.

“As a boxer you’re such a softie” you lay your head on his chest and he walks to the bed.

“You don’t know that” he sits down with you still holding onto him. You unwrap your legs and reposting yourself, jaemin hisses as you move.

You stop moving and he is looking down. You’re sitting on his bulge. “I can move if you’re not comfortable” you mumble. You get embarrassed because you didn’t realize the movements you were doing.

“No don’t- you’re fine” his hands are still on your hips. Jaemin hasn’t been interested in anyone in years and you are wrapping him around your finger.

“Did it feel good then?” your hands are on his chest running up and down on his rocked chest. He nods yes “you don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable baby” he sets a kiss on your collar bone which are covered with makeup since haechan decided to mark you.

“But i want to” you pout at him and you start moving your hips. Jaemin groans “I’m so glad Haechan isn’t going to be here tonight” he smiles.

“What are your plans” you start to add more weight and friction. “Spending it with you” he guides your hips and you arch your back as you feel him getting hard. Your cunt is already wetting his sweatpants. He starts to lifts himself along with you, “Oh i’m about to-“ you release your liquids but Jaemin doesn’t stop moving your hips.

You grab onto his broad shoulder and let out small whimpers. “You’re doing so good” Jaemin moans when you reposition and sit on his hard member. His pants are soaked with your release and his precum releasing through his pants. He begins to twitch in between your thighs and he releases.

The both of you are panting and smile at how much of a mess you both made. Jaemin lift up your skirt to see your laced panties soaked and stuck onto your skin. You haven’t even gotten touched by him and you’re already wanting more.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and changed” he kisses your forehead. He stands up and you feel guilty because he’s more dirty than you’re.

Jaemin opens the drawer and get out shorts that match your top. “These are perfect” he goes up to you and signals for you to come to the edge. He first takes off your panties and he stuffs them in his pocket. “Jaemin no thats embarrassing” you try to take them away but he grabs your hand. “Can I have them please” he waves his face in front of you and smiles.

“You better not misplace them and someone else ends up finding them” you take the shorts from him and quickly change into them.

“Come to my room” Jaemin grabs your hand and before you guys come out he checks if anyone is coming. Jaemin pulls you and speed walks next door to his room.

Jaemin opens the door and Jeno is sitting there on his phone. “Jeno what are doing in my room” Jaemin puts you in front of him. “I just wanted to hangout but i can leave you guys to continue” your cheeks turn red.

“We can still hangout. We were just going to watch a movie either way, let me just change” Jaemin is still using you as a shield. Jeno stands up and throws boxers and sweatpants at Jaemin. “There you dumbass so you aren’t dragging her across the room” you laugh at how embarrassed Jaemin is.

He goes into the bathroom and changes. Luckily every room has its own bathroom which is so unrealistic. You stand where Jaemin left you and Jeno looks up from his phone and back down. “I’m sorry” you say shyly stand there while Jaemin gets back.

“It’s fine” Jeno mumbles.

It’s not fine for him though.

Two of his friends can have her even though he has wanted her first. If he knew you lived in the area he would’ve definitely dm you and not been anonymous.

Jaemin comes back and sit in the opposite side of where Jeno’s laying down. “Come sit in the middle, you’ll get a better view of the screen” Jaemin opens his laptop and opens the streaming app. You climb over the footboard and lay on your stomach in the middle.

The three of you watch the movie until Renjun and Jisung come home. Mark and Chenle had to join Haechan for back.

“Please don’t tell me you guys-“ Renjun drops his briefcase.

“No” you respond quickly.

“We are just watching a movie. Relax” Renjun sighs of relief after Jeno says that.

“Good because I do not want this triangle to turn into a square” Renjun says.

The three of you are confused but then you get. “Why not a pentagon” you smirk at him. Jisung enters and Jaemin says “or a hexagon”

You and Jaemin laugh while renjun leaves. “Hi jisung” you smile at him.

“Hi” he sweetly smiles back at you “i’m going to order food it’s less of us today anyway” he says. “What do you want y/n” Jeno says.

He catches you off guard because he hardly spoke to you and you felt like he hated you. “I am down for anything, but fry chicken sounds good”

“We can do that” Jisung gets on Jaemin’s bed and pulls out his phone.

You stare at all three looking at Jisung’s phone. They’re gorgeous and you can just stare at them all day. “y/n” you come out of your thoughts. “are you dreaming of something” Jaemin says squishing your cheek.

“No i was just admiring” you smile at him.

“At who” he raise his eyebrow.

“All three” you start giggling like crazy and you cover your face with a pillow.

“Why” Jisung says confused.

“Jisung this is why you don’t get bitches” Jeno mumbles.

“Ha says the one who is in love with a twitter girl” Jaemin snorts.

You stop laughing when you hear that. “I told you to never bring that up” Jeno intensely glares at Jaemin.

“How’s the menu looking” You change the topic.

“Here you can look at it” Jisung hands you the phone.

to be continued…

a/n

i’m sorry if that was too much. i am trying to test things out. tysm for reading :)

edit: comment to be tagged!

[NOT PROOFREAD]

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal Orders

Royalty usually seem weighed down by a lot of medals, badges, chains, ribbons and sashes but each of these little details means something. How can we write them accurately and create our own versions for our worlds?

What exactly is a royal order?

A royal order is an honour bestowed on a person by the monarch. A royal order is an exclusive reward for those who have provided exemplary service to the nation or monarch or are simply honoured by the monarch for any reason from being close personally. Royal orders can be granted to other monarchs, members of the Royal family or aristocracy or even commoners.

Rank and File

Most orders have certain classes with the order. The Monarch is always the head of the order, there's usually a Commander of the Order along with every me member being assigned into First Class, Second Class etc. Being a member of the order actually entitles the member to certain privileges, such as a member being able to request the use the home chapel.

Pomp and Circumstance

A royal order can be bestowed in a grand ceremony or even privately. Some royal orders, including the Order of the Bath and the Order of the Garter, include annual rituals of the recipients meeting all while wearing their acquired medals, sashes and accessories. Being a part of an order would entitle you to attend certain events.

Rules of Wearing a Royal Order

Orders can be worn at many events. Usually the whole ensemble is worn to Order-centric events such as an investment or a celebration. The sash or riband can be worn at White Tie events or even as part of military uniforms along with the star. Smaller badges and pins can be worn at black tie events.

Family Orders

Royal family orders are bestowed upon female members of the Royal family to wear at formal events. These are comprised of a diamond encrusted portrait of the current monarch (or any past monarch who granted them the order) worn suspended on a coloured ribbon.

Details of a Royal Order

Sash or Riband: The sash or Riband is the length of coloured fabric that lies across the chest, secured at the shoulder and hip. These can come in an array of colours to differentiate between each order.

Star: The Star is the diamond pin that is a fixed next to the sash. This will usually be encrusted in diamonds displaying the symbol of the order or the initials of the monarch.

Collars and chains: some orders come with chains of the order that are worn around the neck, usually displaying the symbols of the order. These are usually worn over a cape or with a military uniform.

Badges: Are pins worn at the shoulders usually depicting the symbol or motto of the order.

Medal: Some orders come in the form of a medal suspended on ribbon depicting either portrait of the monarch as worn in family orders or initials of the monarch or just the symbol of the order.

Cape/Cloak: Some orders call for a wardrobe change as well. Some orders require the members to dress in large heavy embroidered cloaks stitched with the insignia of the order. These cloaks were seen most recently at the English Coronation of Charles III.

Lists of Royal Orders for Inspiration

Order of the White Elephant (Denmark)

Order of Dannebrog (Demark)

Military Willem Order (Netherlands)

Order of Orange-Nassau (Netherlands)

Order of St Catherine (Russian)

Order of St Olav (Norway)

Order of the Garter (UK)

Order of the Bath (UK)

Royal Family Orders of George V, George VI, Elizabeth II etc. (UK)

Royal Victorian Order (UK)

Order of the British Empire (UK)

Order of Merit (UK)

Order of Leopold II (Belgium)

Order of the Lion (Belgium)

[stellar-skyy]

Hellooo!! May I please request Зима as a lover? Just sweet fluff with how he caught feelings, how he expresses his love, silly things about him, headcanons, etc. I hope this wasn't too confusing and I'm super sorry if I broke one of the rules, you can just ignore this if I did. Thank you so much nevertheless!!

WINTER ADRIFT — Zima x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Zima as a lover. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: Fluff, so fluffy, headcanons, gn!reader, 0.7k words. iv. A/N: Hiii anon!! I was really happy to write this, I love this silly little man. Thank you for the request! ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ

Zima is a very serious looking person. He doesn’t smile often, his words are few and far between, and when he does speak it is quiet and under his breath.

Despite this somewhat intimidating appearance, Zima is a very soft person at heart. He adores his little bird, his notebooks filled with scribbled poetry and other writings, and of course you. 

You, who appeared in his life as quickly as rainfall, bringing a certain light that he’d never experienced before. You, who split his life into two: the Before, and the After.

Before, he was a lonely poet wandering the Far East, with no one but wild animals to keep him from complete isolation. There was only his bird, his poems. It was a quiet life, one that let loneliness seep in far too quickly for his liking, but it was predictable and calm.

And then came the After. Before, he didn’t mind the solitude. But After—After, he couldn’t bear it, because he’d finally gotten a taste of what it was like to not be alone.

Zima’s days turned from sitting still for hours, writing diligently in his notebook, to walking alongside you through trees, watching the snow fall against his windows together, and baking bread in a kitchen far too small for two.

He fell for you very quickly, even if it took a while for him to realize it. It was only when he reflected upon his notebook and its contents, and noticed the sheer amount of writings dedicated to you. He doesn’t quite focus on his work after he’s penned it, so it was easy enough for the poems to be composed and then tucked away into his mind without realizing how many of them were a reflection on his feelings towards you.

By the time the two of you were properly together, he had already written enough to spill the contents of his heart ten times over.

He’s a very early riser, so he always ends up waking up before you. When he wakes up, he likes to look over at you; to watch your chest rise and fall in a careful rhythm, and observe the way your lips slightly part with every puff of breath. He’ll brush a hand over your forehead first, moving any loose strands of hair out of the way, before pressing a quick kiss to it.

Physical affection isn’t easy for him—in fact, he’s rather shy about it. He would prefer to hold your hand or chastely kiss your cheek rather than be overly affectionate, but if you ask for a hug or kiss, he won’t refuse.

(He gives amazing hugs. Just tight enough to feel secure without being restricting, and warm enough to keep away the winter chill.)

Even if he wants to shower you in sweet words and compliments, he isn’t flawless in the language and sometimes his speech fails him. Talking out loud is more difficult than writing, so the loving compliments he does give you are to be treasured.

Instead of words, he leaves you with gifts. A poem, dedicated to you. Wildflowers, picked from the snow and tied together with a ribbon. Baked foods, each more delicious than the last.

He’ll spend hours with you, not talking, just existing in the same space as him. If you sit with him long enough, you’ll be able to hear quiet mumbles under his breath as he becomes fully absorbed in his writing.

He knew he loved you as soon as the animals became as comfortable around you as they were around him. It began with his bird, who despite being all but glued to his side ever since they had met, decided to land on top of your head and settle in your hair. Next came the rabbits, and the ferrets, and then all of the rest of the creatures.

Those animals were his companions, his friends. It was inevitable they would love you just as much as he did, and seeing them warm up to you so quickly was only further proof that you were the one for him.

Seeing you sitting there, with his bird nestled into the crook of your neck, a fox curled on your lap and an elk resting at your side…

He can’t think of a moment where he’s felt more content.

“Hmm? What are you smiling about?”

“Ah… it is nothing… you simply look… perfect."

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Maiden and the Knight

Summary: Lucius meets a mortal girl who understands his perfection and skill in fencing. And he experiences new destructive feelings.

Lucius The Eternal/fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark romance, Yandere, Obsession.

By the Throne, how I love these hedonists and degenerates

Lucius strived for perfection, and although he loved art. But his main passion remained the use of the sword. The remembrancers admired his skill, but the Space Marine knew that it was not the same. They flew like bees from one warrior to another, continuing to create new work one after another. While Lucius continued to hone his fencing skills.

You were one of the many remembrancers on the Pride of the Emperor. Not the most famous and not the most outstanding. You could easily get lost among all the artists, composers and poets. Somehow, you not only managed to meet him in person, but also asked to become his personal remembrancer.

This didn't surprise Lucius at all. He is one of the best, if not the best, among the Emperor's Children. Mortals are obliged to praise him through paintings and poems. But over time, his acceptance of you gave way to confusion, surprise... inspiration.

You didn't just admire his skills, you analyzed them. You watched every movement, trying to catch the best images. Well, when he made special moves, you completely fell silent in pure admiration. This was usually how mortals reacted to a primarch, good music or magnificent architecture. But all your adoration was focused on Lucius's sword.

It was flattering.

In the end, he still asked you why a mortal girl like you were so interested in following the swordsman. You were so small and fragile, you never held a sword in your tiny hands. But smiling, you admitted that your grandfather and father were swordsmen. Therefore, you were given a love for the art of war, although you could not taste it.

Oh, you didn't have to. It is the job of the Space Marines to protect humanity. The Emperor's children were recognized to participate in the most brutal battles, carving a path to a great future with the sword. And you needed to capture this image. And especially the image of Lucius himself. After all, he is the best one.

Over time, you both began to communicate more and more. You told the man about fencing on other worlds, the history of the knights of Ancient Terra. About their duty and oath. Lucius never thought he could become as attached to a mortal as he is to you.

After Laeran, Lucius noticed that he began to enjoy your company even more. With your voice and knowledge about knights and swords. Unexpectedly for him, Lucius was hooked by the part about the role of women in the history of Ancient Terra. Like beautiful maidens wishing farewell to men before the war, they waited for their return. How they showed signs of attention in the form of ribbons on spears... and how knights shed blood with the name of their beloved on their lips.

The Space Marine tried to find a rational explanation for his obsessions, but could not. An attempt to ask the Apothecary about his strange condition was also unsuccessful. Halfway through, Lucius decided to stop and try to deal with these thoughts himself.

And with the way his body reacted. Every time before going to bed, when he thought about knights and ladies, he felt hot. Every time he put himself and you in their place, his throat became dry. But it would be so lovely. You with tears in your eyes, red lips wish him good luck in the war. And your gentle arms give him a ribbon. Or a lock of hair. A kiss.

You didn't seem to have changed. Despite Lucius's obvious patronage, you refused to go to the temple, arguing that you were scared. After all, quite recently dangerous xenos lived there. The Space Marine was just touched by this. That's right, his job is to fight, and your job is to be afraid and seek his protection.

Alas, your connection was broken for some time. Lucius had to fight against his brothers on Isstvan III, to protect the Emperor. He vowed to serve humanity. But the honor of Saul Tarvitz boiled his blood and he succumbed to anger. The mere thought that Tarvitz would be called heroe and Lucius would not be appreciated filled him with burning hatred. And one tiny thought that you would love Saul's skill... no, a lady should only have one knight.

He won't share.

Lucius finds you in your room. You are still as small and vulnerable, hastily wiping away your tears, trying to smile. Oh... the swordsman knew what tears taste like, but for some reason he wanted to lick them. Just the thought that he and ONLY HE evokes such emotions in you...

“I was afraid that you would die,” you gasp and come closer to him. - “I was so scared. It's horrifying. Everyone seems to have gone mad and only a few remembrancers like me are holding on. I was so sad and lonely, I-I thought”

“Kiss,” the man said in a heavy voice. Noticing your blank look, he swallowed. How beautiful. - “Kiss my sword. I killed my brothers with you in mind. Am I not worthy of attention from my lady?”

Your eyes filled with tears again and your lips trembled. And yet Lucius smelled... a strange smell from you. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew for sure that you yourself liked these new feelings. Eating and swallowing. Such delicious fear. And the fact that only the swordsman can see this... was an excitement.

Lucius carefully watches as you approach the outstretched sword. You don't even have to tilt your head. Your reflection sparkles exquisitely in the blade of the weapon and Lucius gasps as he sees your lips touch his sword. He desperately wants to plunge the blade into you, but he holds back.

After all, he must protect his lady.

[words-are-fireproof]

*gif by @a7estrellas (shh, I know it's not Marcus but it fits. Don't @ me.)

Three: Disquietude - Sneak Peak

I'm a day early but I'm a glutton for punishment and @jazzelsaur and @radiowallet have been so kind today. So, I'm feeling extra punchy and confident. Will this chapter get posted Thursday? Here's to hoping. So far it's looking good, though.

-----

Marcus woke to artificial sunbeams slanting through digital blinds, the light streaming across his closed eyes as he struggled against the last vestiges of sleep. In the back of his mind, he wondered who programmed his wall to do that. Then he wondered who turned it on in the first place. Those questions were lost to the exhaustion seeping through his body. His limbs felt like lead weights as he tried to turn over onto his back on the pull out bed. Everything felt like it moved in slow motion, including himself. He rubbed his eyes underneath two pinched fingers, sighing heavily.

The silence in the office made his ears ring, but the noise in his head was more than enough to drown that sound out. The realization of today hit like a ton of bricks. Anxiety snaked across his chest; his heart pounded dangerously, each powerful thump landing harshly against his sternum. If he stayed there any longer, dwelling on things he couldn’t change, he feared his heart might try to make a run for it. He might let it. Without it, he wouldn’t have to face the day and all the uncertainties in it. He wouldn’t have to face another day without her.

But he couldn’t be that lucky. The day–in all its current artificial splendor–still came. It still tugged at him with the flimsy promises of productivity. Though, in his current state, he wasn’t sure how productive he’d be. The new head of HQ knew the significance of the day, but that didn’t mean he’d have an easy day. That didn’t mean he could get away with not doing a damn thing, no matter how much he just wanted to hole up in this office and pretend he didn’t exist. He sighed again and finally pried his eyes open.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to wake up this morning.”

Propping himself up quickly on his forearms, Marcus looked around for the undeniable source of that familiar voice. He still jumped a bit when their gazes locked.

-----

Thank you everyone for being awesome and producing such high quality content. You guys are making me a better fic writer every day with your masterpieces. 🫂

[angeart]

Hunted Hybrids AU [hhau] Masterpost

compiled all the au rambles and other important bits for better organisation. ---

a survival story and a love story. a story of despair and hope.

---

hunted hybrids au [hhau] is a scarian au that i share with @linkito - it’s self indulgent and rp-born, although there might be some drabbles and ficlets coming out of it (because we’re obsessed). 

the basic premise is that scar and grian got transported to and stuck in a permadeath world that’s actively cruel and dangerous to hybrids. the nature itself is set against them, providing next to no resources, and the weather keeps getting colder and colder. 

as an avian and a vex, they get relentlessly hunted—and getting caught means death. as they struggle to stay alive, they only have each other left. (desperately, they wish it could be enough.) 

they have no idea what happened to hermitcraft, or if their other friends are even alive, but they barely have time to think about that amidst the cold and the hunger, the fear and the pain. days stretch into months, and their hope of ever returning anywhere akin to home dwindles. (but maybe they can put together a different makeshift hope: a feeble little thought of maybe one day managing to get far away enough that nobody will follow anymore; maybe one day they could make a new home, or the closest thing to it they can manage. maybe this nightmare can have an end, if only they hold onto each other and keep going.)  

---

au cws: violence, blood, injuries, dehumanisation of hybrids, self harm (feather plucking), mentions of suicidal ideation, self-destructive tendencies, arson (just a bit), victim blaming, character death (?), animal death, grief, self worth issues, panic attacks, trauma responses, abandonment issues, separation anxiety

---

--- RAMBLES, ART, ETC ---

au introduction ramble - here

about the ribbon - here

about scar’s wings and vex magic - here

wanted posters - here

---

refecences:

grian design/reference - here & here

scar design/reference - here

scar timelapse face/hair/earring reference: here

---

other bits, snippets, and asks:

what happened to scar’s wings - here

can scar's wings heal? - here

the spear incident (feral scar) - here

feather earring + what happened to scar's ear - here

scar's journal - [to be posted]

scar and cub's bond (including post-rescue mentions) - here

---

he remembers the mornings when he woke up pressed against Scar [snippet] - here

you need to go / please don't leave [snippet + art] - here

hurting and feverish in a cave [snippets... multiple] - here

grian feels broken, in some horrible, unfixable way (and scar deserves better) [snippet] - here

---

will i find my home, my home, my home in you? - confession/first kiss [RP/FIC] - here (AO3)

---

MIMIC ARC:

PART I - MIMIC

part I main rambles - here

part I bonus: the ribbon incident [FIC] - [to be posted]

part I bonus: campfire closeness [art] - here

part I bonus: learning about different, kinder worlds - here

part I bonus: mimic's name - here

PART II - REUNION

part II main rambles - here

part II bonus: scar's magic extertion - here

part II bonus: scar calling out for grian [art] - here

part II bonus: reunion embrace [art] - here

PART III - AFTERMATH

part III main rambles - here

part III bonus: hunted - here

part III bonus: the eclipse - here

part III bonus: mimic, alone - here

PART IV - THE IN-BETWEEN

part IV main rambles: hot spring bath - here the wing spiral - here mating bites and other gifts - [to be posted] hopewards - [to be posted]

part IV bonus: the red haze - [to be posted]

PART V - [REDACTED]

part V main rambles - [to be posted]

---

VEX arc:

PART I - COMMUNE

part I main rambles - [to be posted]

part I bonus: about the characters [art included] - here

part I bonus: about nadia - here

part I bonus: about kane and grian (the bird incident, misunderstandings, learning, and flock) - here

part I bonus: scar's vex instincts - here

part I bonus: learning about mating marks - here

part I bonus: mating marks, vexes, and not being enough - here

part I bonus: building - [to be posted]

part I bonus: cabin arson [ramble] - [to be posted]

part I bonus: cabin arson [art + snippet] - here

part I bonus: a night for living: mr beak - here grian gets mr beak [art + snippet] - here a pink ribbon (kane & flock) [RP] - here dancing by the bonfire [art + snippet] - here other parts - [to be posted]

part I bonus: nice things - here

part I bonus: preening, flying, and flock - [to be posted]

part I bonus: phantom attack - [to be posted]

PART II - DEATH

part II main rambles - [to be posted]

PART III - [REDACTED]

part III main rambles - [to be posted]

---

summer arc:

something burns [ask answer] - here

---

rescue:

rescue rambles pt I - here

rescue rambles pt II - here

rescue rambles pt III - here

---

post-return bits:

will they ever return? [ask] - here

clothing choices [mini ramble + art] - here

we're going to live [snippet] - here

things don't end - here

doubts and breakdowns [+ rp snippets] - here

previous relationships and the booty call incident - here

fever and feeling unsafe [+ rp snippets] - here & art here

the sleepover (and the aftermath) - [to be posted]

wedding bits:

proposal [art/comic/snippet] - here

wedding scar [art] - here

wedding grian [art] - here

wedding scarian [art] - here

wedding respawn - here

---

more art and other things under #hhau tag <3

art-only tag is #hhau art (but all art also has the main #hhau tag)

[ferigrieving]

born a weapon.

⊹ ࣪ i know there’s better brothers / but you’re the only one thats mine.

a.n tumblr user @mrchickennuggetjr this ones also for you

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; iii. lost and found part one ; v. coming soon ; 3.6k words

the memory of what happened kept replaying in touya’s head. it was like a broken record, stuck on the same scene over and over again. he could see it all unfold in front of him as vividly as when he’d actually lived it. 

but for now, he tried to push down the memories. he forced himself to stay in the present, to focus on what was happening right now instead.

and right now, touya had never been more away of how shitty their lives were until now.

the building was old. peeling paint, exposed pipes, and missing tiles on the floor. you had found an abandoned library to take shelter in months ago, and you and touya had spent any free time you had fixing the place to be more… livable. or as livable as possible it was in a place like this.

it wasn’t great by any means, but it was away from the hustle bustle of the city life, and that was all you could ask for. 

here were two sleeping bags laid beside a ratty futon in the corner, with blankets and pillows to keep them warm. you had even decorated a little, hanging up small trinkets and a few pictures of you and touya from happier days.

the place was still far from homey, but it was better than the streets. and it was better than that cold house that the todorokis grew up in

it wasn’t the place itself that made the library feel like home. it was your quiet presence that made a house a home. it was the way you never made a sound when you moved around, the way your lips would quirk slightly when touya did something you found amusing, the way you seemed to understand him better than anyone else.

touya wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. you were warm, and he found himself craving the heat.

“i miss having a bed,” touya mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him. he didn’t mind the cold cement floor, for it was better than sleeping on the streets, but he longed for the comfort of a real bed. his bed. 

the sleeping bags belonged to you and touya, stolen from some unassuming campers on your trip to find food. the futon, on the other hand, was reserved for shouto. it had pillows, a blanket, and two stuffed toys, yet shouto often slept beside you or touya in the comfort of your sleeping bags.

but, for the moment, he was sound asleep, arms wrapped around a black cougar with a large, purple ribbon on it.

touya buried his face in your chest, letting his eyes flutter shut. the sound of your heartbeat was gentle, it filled his head with memories of easier times. and he was safe, for just a moment, from the cruel world that had forsaken him.

a smile tugged at your lips as you heard touya's quiet complaint. it was always the same thing with him, wasn't it? he would find something new to complain about every day. “yeah,” you hummed in agreement. “a bed would be nice.”

you gently threaded your fingers through his hair, raking through his shaggy locks. “maybe one day,” he mused, “we can buy a house.”

in response, you felt touya nuzzle against your chest, like a cat seeking attention. the gesture was almost childlike, and it brought a wave of fondness over you. he hadn’t changed in the years you knew him, still clingy and childish as ever.

touya let out a soft sigh as your fingers danced across his scalp. the feeling was soothing, and he found himself melting against you.

“yeah,” you muttered, “i'd like that.”

he closed his eyes, taking in the sound of your slow, steady heartbeat. it was a comforting lullaby, and it made him want to stay like that forever. 

a brief moment of silence passed between the two of you. he could feel your heart rate begin to quicken, and he frowned. something was bothering you. 

he lifted his head to look up at you, his expression quizzical. “what's wrong?” he asked, his voice soft. he tilted his head to the side, studying your face for any signs of distress. “you're thinking too loud.”

you shook your head, nudging him off you. “no ‘m not.”

touya raised an eyebrow at your response. he knew you weren’t telling the truth. he could tell just from the look in your eyes. 

he leaned in closer, until his face was inches away from yours. his breath ghosted over your skin, and he could see the way your eyes flickered down to his lips for a brief moment.

“don’t lie to me,” he murmured. “i know you too well.”

“its about shouto.” you mumble, eyes darting over to the boy in question, and touya couldnt help but follow your gaze, his gaze landing on shouto. the boy was happily engaged in a fierce battle between two stuffed animals, completely oblivious to the conversation between you and his older brother. 

“what about him?” he asked, turning back to you with a frown.

“we don't have anything, touya.”

touya’s expression darkened as you voiced your concerns. he knew it was true. they had nothing. no money, no home, no future. it was only a matter of time before everything in their lives came crashing down. 

“i know,” he said, his voice quiet. “i know we don’t.”

“he cant go to school anymore, he sleeps on a ratty old futon, and eats once a day. i— i dont know what to do. i cant let him live like this.”

touya’s heart ached at your words. he knew all too well the struggles you faced daily. the endless days and nights spent scavenging for scraps, and the exhaustion that never seemed to leave their bodies. they had been surviving for so long that it seemed like it was all they knew how to do.

he let out a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “i know,” he murmured. “i don’t know what to do either.”

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and cold. “all this time, i’ve been so focused on surviving that i hadn’t stopped to think about his future.”

touya looked over at shouto again, watching as the boy played with his toys. it was then that he realised just how much he had taken for granted. “he deserves a better life than this.”

he pulled you closer to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. he buried his face in your shoulder, taking solace in your warmth and familiarity. 

“we can’t keep living like this,” he murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt. “we can’t keep living in abandoned libraries and eating scraps off the streets. it’s no way to live”

“i know. and that’s why i have to get a job, touya.” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “even if it means i get caught.”

his arms automatically tightened around you, his heart skipping a beat. the thought of you getting caught and taken away from him was enough to make his blood run cold. 

“no,” touya said firmly, lifting his head to look at you. “absolutely not. i’m not risking losing you.”

he let out a frustrated sigh, his grip on you growing even tighter. he knew you were right. they couldn't keep living like this. the constant worry of being found, and the never-ending cycle of struggle and exhaustion. 

he knew he couldn't keep you safe and protect his brother at the same time. but neither did he want to risk losing you. without you, touya wasn't sure what he would do.

“what if you get caught? what if they take you away from me?”

“then it’ll be one less mouth to feed.”

touya’s eyes widened at your words. he could feel a pang in his chest, like a knife had been plunged into his heart. his eyes darted around your face, searching for any sign that you didn’t really mean it.

he pulled back just slightly, his hands still gripping your shoulders. “don’t say that,” he said angrily. “don’t you dare say that.”

“the lawsons down the street is hiring.” you turned away him, wincing at the sharp tone in his voice. touya was always rough, but something about this time was different. “its not much but–”

“this is a suicide mission, you know.”

touya clenched his jaw tightly, his mind in turmoil. on one hand, he knew that you were right. they needed money, and the lawsons down the street was a small grocery store that could give you a job.

but the thought of you being away from him, in a place he couldn’t reach, was enough to send his heart racing. he was terrified of losing you.

“touya, you’re a walking target! fuckin– fuckin’ look at you, dude. we both know im the only one who can do this.”

that comment stung, but touya knew there was truth to your words. he was a walking target, with his messy black hair, piercing blue eyes, and the numerous burn scars that covered his body. it was a miracle he hadn't been found out already.

he was silent for a moment, his mind racing. you were the only one who could do this, and he knew it.

"just... promise me one thing."

“i’ll try, toy.’”

his heart clenched at your words. he knew you too well. you’d always put yourself on the line to keep him and his brother safe.

he let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a stern look. “don’t play the hero,” he warned. “do the job, get the money, and come back. no side quests, no unnecessary risks. understand?”

touya studied your face for a moment, trying to judge your resolve. he knew he couldn’t stop you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry.

after a few moments, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. he closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. 

“just... come back to me. please.”

“ill always come back to you, touya.”

those words filled touya with a mix of relief and fondness. he knew that you would do anything for him, and it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. 

"you better," he mumbled, his voice soft. he wrapped his arms around you more securely, almost to the point of hurting. "or i'll hunt you down myself."

he held you like that for a few moments, his heart racing. he could feel the steady beat of your heart against his chest, a small comfort in the chaos of their lives.

he knew that there was no going back now. you had already made up your mind, and he couldn't stop you. 

so all he could do was hope and pray that you would come back to him in one piece.

“i love you,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by your hair. “you better not forget that.”

“i love you too i just–” you frown, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “i have to go before it gets dark, touya.”

touya tensed as you mentioned leaving. he knew this moment was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. he wrapped his arms around you tighter, unwilling to let go. 

he didn't want you to leave. the thought of not having you there with him, being able to touch and hold you anytime he wanted, was unbearable. 

still, he knew he couldn’t keep you. you were right. this was something you had to do. 

he let out a deep sigh, and reluctantly loosened his grip on you.

he lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of worry and resignation. they were darker than usual, almost stormy as he studied your face. 

he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady the anxiety that was coursing through him. he knew he had to let you go. 

but that didn’t make it any easier. 

touya watched as you crawled over to shouto and scooped him up, giving the young boy a gentle kiss on the forehead. a lump formed in his throat. “ill be right back, shou.’” 

“where are you going?” he asked, his voice small and fearful.

shouto looked up at you curiously, his eyes wide and innocent. he had no idea what was happening, or why you were leaving.

“‘m gonna get dinner, kay?”

shouto’s expression brightened at those words, a small smile appearing on his lips. 

he was probably hungry, touya thought. it had been a while since their last meal. 

he glanced over at you, watching as you set his brother down on the ground.

“i want lots of soba,” shouto proclaimed, as if it was the only thing that was important to him.

god, you were going to die here. you were sure of it. “ill– ill try.” you whimpered, looking up to prevent yourself from crying. lots of soba.

touya's heart ached at the sound of your voice, and he could feel a lump form in his throat. he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and assure you that everything would be okay, but he knew better.

he couldn’t promise that. for all he knew, this might be the last time he saw you.

he clenched his jaw, fighting back the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“now i have go okay, shou?” you stood up, placing him back down on the futon. “be good to your big brother.”

shouto seemed to sense the seriousness in your voice, and the small smile on his lips faded to a look of confusion. 

he looked up at you, his small fingers reaching out to grab the fabric of your pants. “when will you be back?” he asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

“soon. i promise.”

touya stood silently, watching as you disappeared through the door, taking a piece of him with you. his heart ached, and he had to resist the urge to run after you.

he turned his attention to shouto, who was staring at the door with a confused and lonely expression. 

touya knelt down beside his brother, ruffling his hair gently. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, knowing that his voice would betray his anxiety.

he knew he had to stay strong for shouto. touya wrapped an arm around his younger brother, drawing him closer. he could feel the boy's small body tremble slightly, his eyes still fixed on the door. 

touya silently cursed himself. if he had just gotten a job sooner, or had done something to keep you safe—

he didn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. there was no point dwelling on what could have been.

he held shouto close, his mind racing with a hundred different thoughts and scenarios. he knew that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it. 

he was so used to everything in his life going wrong. 

but this time, just this once, he hoped that things would go right. that you would come back to him safe and sound. 

he couldn’t lose you.

time ticked by in slow motion, and touya found himself obsessively checking the clock that hung on the wall. minutes, hours, it didn’t matter. every second away from you felt like a lifetime.

he tried to distract himself by playing games with shouto, but they both knew their hearts weren’t in it. the tension was thick, and the silence deafening.

every little sound made touya jump. every car that passed, every door that opened, every loud noise from outside. each one felt like a possible sign of your return.

he felt like he would vibrate out of his own skin. he had the urge to pace, to do something, anything to relieve some of the anxiety that was coursing through him.

shouto eventually fell asleep, his tiny body curled up against touya’s as he dreamed about heroes. 

touya envied his brother. sleep seemed like paradise, since he could forget about his worries in his dreams. 

but he couldn’t shut his eyes. not when you hadnt returned yet.

touya sat there for what felt like an eternity, his back pressed against the wall as he cradled shouto in his lap. his brother was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of his big brother's anxiety and fear.

it was strange. touya had always prided himself on being tough and in control of his emotions. he had been through hell and back, and yet, here he was, feeling like a broken, vulnerable mess because you weren’t home yet.

he wanted to believe that you were okay, that you were safe and on your way back to him. but his traitorous mind kept reminding him that it had been hours since you left, and there was still no sign of you.

he tried to keep it together, for shouto's sake. but he couldn’t stop himself from checking the door every few minutes, or from flinching at every small noise outside.

he tried to keep his eyes open, but his body was betrayed him. his eyelids grew heavy, and he found himself dozing off, only to jerk awake, and the cycle repeated.

but he was only human. and humans needed to sleep.

every day was the same. wake up as the sun rose, make breakfast. butter on bread, jam if you were lucky. say goodbye to shouto, say goodbye to touya. work eight hours, and work another eight hours. go home, eat stolen onigiri for dinner, and sleep. dream of a better future, and when you woke up, you did it all over again.

it was monotonous, exhausting, and soul-crushing. but you pushed on, knowing that touya and shouto depended on you.

each day was a struggle, and you found yourself growing more and more tired. your body ached, your mind was fuzzy, and you found yourself dreaming of a better life.

but life only got harder. touya continued steal whatever he could, and you continued to work long hours. 

the only time you saw each other was in the early morning and late at night. you were both exhausted, both struggling to make ends meet.

life was a endless cycle of work, sleep, and stress. you could feel your nerves frazzle, and your mind weary. you were so tired. tired of struggling to make ends meet, tired of working endless hours, and tired of seeing touya push himself as well.

nights were the hardest. even when you were at home, resting your sore body and aching mind, you couldn’t fully relax. worry gnawed at you, both for yourself and touya.

you worried about him stealing, about him getting caught and taken away from you. you worried about shouto, about how he was growing up surrounded by violence and the threat of poverty.

your heart ached as you thought about how innocent and playful he was, how he had no idea about the struggles that you and touya were facing. you wanted nothing more than to protect him from the harsh realities of life, but you knew that you couldn’t shield him forever.

amidst all the struggle, you still managed to save up a little bit of money each week. you tucked away every spare yen you could find, hoping that one day, it would be enough to get you and touya and shouto out of this situation.

you had been eyeing a small apartment in a slightly less impoverished part of town. it was small, but it was clean and safe, and it was just within your price range.

amidst all the struggle, you still managed to save up a little bit of money each week. you tucked away every spare yen you could find, hoping that one day, it would be enough to get you and touya and shouto out of this situation.

you had been eyeing a small apartment in a slightly less impoverished part of town. it was small, but it was clean and safe, and it was just within your price range.

you could picture it vividly, the small but cosy apartment, the warm beds, the running water, and the clean sheets. and most importantly, you could picture the look on touya's face when you told him that you had finally saved up enough to move.

and when the day finally came, you felt that it was better than you had dreamt. you had never seen touya cry. not like this. and you promised him that he never would have to again.

touya's reaction was everything you had hoped for and more. the moment you told him that you had finally saved up enough to move, his eyes widened, and his face flooded with an expression of disbelief and joy.

he couldn't believe it. he had worked so hard, and you had worked so hard, and it was finally paying off.

tears welled up in his eyes, and he threw his arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace. he buried his face in your shoulder, tears streaming down his cheeks.

in that moment, as touya held you tight, you knew that all the struggle had been worth it.

the long hours, the hard work, the endless cycle of work and sleep. it had all been worth it to see the look of relief and joy on his face.

you knew that things were still hard, that there were still obstacles to overcome, but in that moment, it was all you could ever hope for.

[fafnir19]

Genie's lamp - Part III

The proof of the pudding is in the eating

Despite being an apprentice of the dark arts now, Lex nevertheless chose to also continue his studies in economics. He couldn't eventually simply tell his parents and friends that he was abandoning his studies to pursue a career as a dark sorcerer.

So, one day he found himself in the dimly lit locker room of his college. The air heavy with the musky scent of sweat and testosterone, Lex dawdling finished changing after his PE class. His unbuttoned shirt and varsity jacket gave him the appearance of a typical college student. Unaware of his dark sorcery apprenticeship, his peers saw him as just another face in the crowd. As he was about to exit, a figure caught his eye — Ferris, the epitome of an alpha-male and captain of the college baseball team, sat stark naked on a bench while chugging water from a plastic bottle.

A smug grin etched on his face as he taunted Lex with words meant to provoke, "You've gained some confidence, huh? But remember, in this realm, I'm the man!" Ignoring the jabs at first, Lex's expression turned stoic as Ferris' taunts grew more explicit. "We both know your confidence is a front, fag. You want to kneel and worship a real man like me, don't you?" Ferris jeered, his voice dripping with arrogance. Without a word, Lex knelt down before the naked jock, his actions defying logic and expectation.

The unexpected move caught the baseball captain off guard, his alpha facade momentarily faltering as Lex's tongue traced a path along his inner thighs. Confusion mingled with an unexpected rush of �� pleasure?! Normally, Ferris would have yelled at Lex to stop this 'gay shit'. However, the sensation of being licked, worshipped, held an intoxicating allure that Ferris couldn't defy. Moving with purpose, Lex's explorative tongue ventured further, grazing over Ferris' sensitive skin until he reached his balls. A maddening pressure built within Ferris' balls, intensifying with each flick of Lex's skilled tongue. And then, in a burst of ecstasy and confusion, Ferris climaxed, his cum erupting onto his stomach in a messy release. But as the white liquid pooled on his skin, a strange transformation began to take place. His balls, once so full and heavy, began to shrink, deflating like a balloon losing air until they were no more. Ferris blinked in astonishment, his hand instinctively reaching down to where his testicles should have been. But instead, there was nothing but smooth skin, a void where his masculinity once resided. Instead of the rage and indignation one might expect, a peculiar calm settled over Ferris.

Lex, unfazed by the sudden turn of events, dipped his finger into the sticky mess on Ferris' stomach, bringing it to his lips in a brazen display of dominance and tasting it with a wicked grin. "Your offsprings, which will never be born, are really delicious, Ferris!" His words dripped with a dark amusement, relishing in the power he wielded over the once-proud alpha. Awaiting a violent outburst that never came, Lex chuckled to himself, a cold calculation in his eyes. "Interesting how a man's demeanor changes once his manhood is taken away," he remarked to himself and mused with twisted satisfaction "Ah, the wonders of eunuchs - calm and loyal, just as Jafar told." Now Lex towered over Ferris, his commanding presence casting a shadow over the former alpha-male. "Eunuch, into the bottle with you, where you will transform into my guard!"

The once proud and arrogant jock watched in disbelief as he and his gym bag dissolved into a swirling mist, vanishing into the drinking bottle he had held moments ago.

Within the bottle, a transformation unlike any other began to take place. His pants, neatly folded within his gym bag, dissolved into a shimmering ribbon that slithered out, curling around his legs with an eerie precision. "Wh...what's happening to me?" Ferris stammered, feeling the strange sensation of the ribbon wrapping around his lower body. The sensation of the soft fabric against his skin should have elicited a familiar thrill, but this time, there was no spark of arousal - and there will never be again. The ribbon continued its ascent, molding into intricate harem pants that adorned his muscular frame with an otherworldly grace.

Not far behind, his hoody burst out of the gym bag, its sleeves and hood fading into oblivion, leaving behind a sleek vest that fluttered gracefully towards Ferris. The vest draped itself upon him, embracing his form with an air of mystique. Finally, his cherished baseball bat shimmered and shifted, transmuting into a gleaming saber that now rested at his side. The transformation was disorienting yet strangely exhilarating. Feeling a surge of loyalty towards his master, Lex, Ferris was overcome with a newfound purpose - to protect and serve the enigmatic sorcerer prince at all costs. His thoughts and desires now aligned with Lex's will, his former sense of self fading into obscurity. With a sense of calm acceptance, Ferris accepted his fate as a devoted guardian to the one who had wielded such power over him.

With an air of nonchalance, Lex tucked the bottle into his backpack, a smirk playing on his lips. Without a second glance, he sauntered out of the locker room, heading to his next lecture.

As evening fell, Lex proudly presented the bottle to Jafar, anticipation dancing in his eyes. However, Jafar's reaction was not what he expected. The genie's gaze darkened, a frown creasing his brow. "You still have much to learn," Jafar's voice rumbled disapprovingly. Lex's confidence faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

Jafar's next words cut through the air like a knife. "A cheap plastic bottle? It seems like you snagged your slave from the discount bin of a dollar shop. We must refine your sense of style, my apprentice." Lex couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected critique, acknowledging Jafar's point with a shrug, "Fair point, Master."

And so, under Jafar's guidance, Lex's journey as a sorcerer prince continued, his magical prowess growing with each lesson learned, all while striving to match the genie's impeccable standards of sophistication and flair.

[cellophaine]

Sad Girl (Part III)

Read Part I, Part II

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Sappy confession. Happy ending.

Author's Note: I'm alive.

GIF Credit

As you joined the street-level crowd from the subway, you pulled your scarf higher as the bitter wind swept over your face. You quickened your pace in the hope of getting out of the cold sooner as if you could catch up with the darkening sky. The interview had taken longer than you anticipated, and you still had to write up the report and have it on your boss' desk by 9 AM the next morning. He had been a thorn in your side, consistently pushing your buttons. He always insisted on having paper copies of every report. "It makes your report more meaningful," he said, "otherwise you're just repeating someone else's words." It took all the professionalism in you not to reach across his cluttered desk and slap him then.

By the time you reached the office, the sky had dulled into a dark grey, and the lamp posts cast their warm glow onto the street. You said goodnight to the exiting coworkers and rushed through the doors to see that Gwen, the receptionist, was leaving, too. She called out to you as you walked past the reception.

"Hey! There's something for you on your desk."

You nodded.

"Thank you."

"Doesn't say who it's from though."

You thought for a moment; a small smile crept onto the corner of your lips.

"I think I might have an idea."

Gwen gave you an understanding look and headed out. You approached your cubby in anticipation and were greeted with a sweet floral smell emanating from the bouquet that sat next to your keyboard. You took it in your hand and marvelled. It was a peculiar combination, one you couldn't really find at flower shops, held together by a simple ribbon of blue cloth. No crinkly wrapping paper. The light shade of blue hyacinth went so well with the bluebells, coupled with orange peonies and a single olive branch, which created a harmony pleasing to the eyes and nose. The piece of paper nestled in the bouquet only indicated your name in a neat font, but other than that, nothing. Still, it brought a smile to your face, a speck of joy on an arduous day. You pulled out your phone and typed out a quick text before sending it off.

Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.

You still had a soft smile on your face by the time you got ready to write the report. Your phone vibrated, signaling a text message.

What flowers?

Your brows scrunched together in puzzlement. You took a photo and sent it off. Not a minute later, you got a response.

Wasn't from me.

A slight hollowness carved itself into your throat. You texted back.

Oh. Are you sure?

The response came quickly.

Dead serious. You might have a secret admirer ;)

Never mind then.

You set your phone down only to have the phone vibrate again.

Wannna go out tonight? Me and my buddies are going to this new club on Fifth Ave.

You sighed, dreading the idea of having to stay at work late. But you didn't like the sound of going out either.

I'm alright. Just a little tired tonight. Have fun though!

The read receipt and a heart popped up on your last message. That was it. You turned your phone to silent mode before opening a new document; your recorder and notepad were ready by your side.

By the time your report was put on your boss' desk, it was already 9:30. You exhaled heavily, feeling the weight on your shoulders chip away. You took the flowers with you and nodded to the security guard on your way out. It was late, and you didn't feel like cooking, so you made a detour to the soup and sandwich shop around the corner and placed an order. You sat down on the bench by the window, allowing the gush of heat from the radiator to warm your legs. There was music coming from across the narrow street; its volume changed as people filtered in and out. People were smoking outside, chatting animatedly with one another. It stirred something in you. You worked late on a Thursday night, getting takeout by yourself because you couldn't even fathom the thought of whipping up a simple meal. You opened your last message with Andy, wondering if it was too late to change your mind.

You met Andy through Mindy when her workplace went out for happy hour. It was just shy of two weeks after you cut things off with Matt. He was a nice, easy-going guy who tried to include you in conversations throughout the night. Mindy's forms of suggestion came in the subtle look of her eyes, the slight inclines of her head, and often, a jab of her elbow. It annoyed you how much she tried to look out for you even though you didn't need her help, but at the end of the night, the triumphant was hers. Andy asked for your number, and you agreed out of an obligation you felt for Mindy's relentless effort for you to move on. It had been two months since the first date, with many dates between then and now, and all you could say about it could be summed up in one word: fine. You didn't feel a spark. Andy could be charming at times, funny, and generous. You liked him, but your heart didn't beat wildly for him. He wasn't anything like Matt. Andy was the one you should want.

So why did you still feel a sense of hesitation?

You looked at the bouquet, your curiosity piqued. Taking out your phone, you typed in the flower combination laid on the narrow counter. Scrolling through the array of articles, you noticed the keywords they shared in common.

Apology. Ask for forgiveness. Wrongdoings.

You read and read, and the realization seeped in. The clarification didn't give you any relief, only mild irritation. Matt fucking Murdock. Who gave him the right to remind you of his presence when it still lingered around? It was an undeniable indication of how much you were still so helplessly captivated by your history with him, thinking about him like he was an old wound that ached every now and then to remind you that you had always had it and that you could never be rid of it. Memories of Matt, just like the pain, were a part of you now, and you couldn't bury them or try to forget them. You had to live with them, and hopefully, when it was finally enough time had passed, you could look back at the memories with fondness, a sweet bitterness over someone you couldn't have, but you had long accepted the fact.

For the moment, the fondness was replaced by irritation. With dinner in your hand, you walked out of the door, leaving the bouquet in the trash can of the quaint restaurant.

Over the next six months, so much changed, but the one constant thing that did not was Matt's attempts to reach you and still give you the distance you needed. Once a week, on the same day, a bouquet of flowers was delivered to your desk. They never included the sender, only the recipient, and always had the same connotation.

I'm sorry.

You had to admit it was sweet. It also earned you looks of admiration and teasing from your coworkers, who were cooing over the fact that your boyfriend was such a sweetheart. For the few times someone mentioned it, you had to clarify. Andy wasn't your boyfriend anymore, and he hadn't been for the last two months.

When you broke up with Andy, it came as a surprise to him. He thought everything was going well, but your perception of the relationship was the opposite. You weren't into him; you were into the idea of having him as a placeholder for Matt. It was the cruel truth. Being with Andy didn't make you happy, and you doubted it would be any different if you were with someone else. You wanted more. You wanted the thing that you couldn't have with Matt, and at this point, you had settled for the fact that it would never be yours. But for now, you were okay with being by yourself. You wanted to be alone in your own existence and accepted the fact that when the right time came, it would come with the right person. For the first time in a long time, you felt the burden that clouded your head fall away like a crumbling infrastructure.

You quit your job despite your boss's pathetic attempts to stop you from leaving, promising you a promotion that would make you his right-hand woman. It was more work for just a little more money, and it wasn't worth it. To your luck, shortly after leaving the newspaper, you got hired as a junior staff writer for an independent publishing house. You still got to enjoy parts of the work you liked before, with better pay and a more relaxed schedule. You had more time to enjoy what you couldn't before.

Gwen still kept in touch with you, telling you about the bouquet of flowers showing up a few days after you left. And then, after that week, none at all. You figured Matt had a way of finding out about your new workplace since, shortly after the change, new bouquets were delivered to your desk promptly as if nothing had changed only except for the fact that you stopped throwing them away. You had started to enjoy them. Who knew there were so many ways to apologize to someone with flowers?

You thought you would cross paths with him eventually, but you didn't know it would be a peculiar chance encounter like this.

The gloomy sky haunted the skyline of New York City all day, teasing with little drops here and there. The air was heavy, as if it was holding itself in anticipation of a great storm. You prayed it wouldn't rain before you got home, but as you were halfway there, the sky parted, and the downpour was vicious. You couldn't see too far in front of you, and out of desperation, you ran up the stairs of the nearest shelter. You stood awkwardly on the small porch of the building as heavy droplets railed on the pavement in a frantic rhythm. You leaned a shoulder on the wall, exhausted and drenched, looking helplessly out into the downpour that showed no sign of stopping soon. Water dripped from your lashes, and with each blink, you saw a moving silhouette formed in the misty veil. Your heart beat faster and faster as the silhouette approached until he became someone you knew too well. Emerged from the rain was Matt, his breathing heavy, but you doubted it was from running from the rain, for his footsteps slowed, hesitant as he sensed that the porch he was approaching wasn't vacant. And the space was occupied by none other than the woman that haunted his fitful sleep and waking daydreams.

For a long moment, you could only stare. The water clung to him like how every piece of your existence that used to long for his approval and touch did. And Matt seemed to do the same thing. You couldn't bring yourself to break the silence. Your eyes were wide open as if you were afraid his presence was only something your mind made up. That he wasn't real. And just like that, you were starstruck again. Just like the first time you saw him after you realized that you loved him. In the gradual slip of the initial shock, you took in the newness in his familiar appearance. His hair was a little longer than when you saw him last, prompting the little curls at the nape of his neck. His dripping briefcase did its best to shield his face from the rain, but you could see the strays followed the slopes and rises of his handsome features. His lips parted, pulling in a deep, slow inhale. He looked like a man who was in disbelief, and truth be told, you felt the same way. Only now did you realize how much you'd missed him.

"What are you doing here?"

You croaked and cleared your throat when you realized your voice was barely a notch above a whisper. Matt shook himself out of the trance, clearing his throat.

"This is, uhm– my office."

"Oh!"

In a fit of panic, you didn't realize that it was the Nelson, Murdock and Page office. What kind of cruelty had fate forced upon you? You sighed, an apology on your lips as you put your bag above your head.

"I'm so sorry, I will go–"

Before you could launch yourself into the pouring rain, Matt stopped you with a hand on your elbow.

"No, please. Stay."

And because he knew you so well, he could sense your hesitation.

"You can get warm upstairs and wait until it's better out there."

You watched the way the tips of his ears had turned into a darker shade of pink. This anticipation reminded you of the time when, with just a look, you knew you had fallen for him. You swallowed and managed to croak a soft "okay." Matt nodded, a little breathless himself, as if he was relieved that you agreed to stay. He pulled out the key and unlocked the door before holding it open for you to step inside. You walked the stairs, remembering the last time you were here. Your heart was in fragments, barely held together by your nerves, by the time you reached the final steps.

You roamed your eyes around the office as Matt turned on the old heater along the wall. It looked about the same, but now there was a monstera adding a touch of green to the space. You shrugged off your damp coat, and Matt took it out of your hands. The gesture felt so natural, you thought to yourself as you watched him hang the coat next to his by the door. He had stripped down to a simple white dress shirt and black slack, and you averted your eyes at the sight of his torso visible under the wet shirt as if you hadn't seen him naked before. He threw his tie on the desk and came out of his office with a throw blanket. He held it out until you took it. It looked handmade and felt soft to the touch. Matt pulled a chair out for you in front of the heater. You thanked him and put your bag by your feet after taking the seat. A brief moment of silence followed, and Matt immediately assumed his position as the gracious host.

"Do you want some tea? We have the kind that … that you like."

A shiver ran through you. A cup of tea didn't sound too bad.

"Please. If you don't mind."

He waved his hand dismissively and walked towards the kitchen. You listened to the sound of him rummaging around in the small room. Feeling awkward just sitting there and not being useful, you called out.

"Do you need some help?"

"I got it. You stay warm."

You settled against the chair, wrapping yourself in the blanket. Feeling the gentle and warm brush of the radiator on your legs, you shivered slightly. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you tried to calm yourself down by focusing on the monstera leaves instead of the presence of the man who once broke your heart.

Matt came back to the room with a steaming mug, and you took it gratefully. It looked like he didn't make any for himself. You took a sip, allowing the tea to burn your tongue.

"How have you been?"

His question knocked at the mutual understanding of your situation. You weren't exactly friends, and you were long past the point of lovers. But it didn't have to be awkward. With so much history between you, all the memories twisted and turned and took off, swirling furiously like the storm outside. But there was a blessing in it. The storm was out of your reach, and right here, right now, you were safe. The person who lapped up crumbs of attention from the man who never explicitly gave them was a part of you. But not anymore. You could start fresh.

"I'm fine. I figured you knew about my new job?"

Matt dipped his head sheepishly as if to hide his expression of being caught.

"I did. Are you enjoying it?"

"I am. It's a lot less stressful when I don't have to answer my boss' unreasonable demands. I get more freedom in what I do. The pay is much better, too."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'm glad. It seemed like you had a bad time at the newspaper."

"Yeah, I did."

You nodded, feeling a brief wash of melancholy at the mention of your old job.

"I know the flowers come from you."

There was no point in avoiding the subject. Your heart was on the verge of exploding, but you had to. You both knew it was coming.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for overstepping. Just say the word, and I'll stop any kind of contact with you."

When you didn't respond, he continued with his face angled towards you. The window behind him cast sharp shadows on his face, and from this point of view, you could see the agony on his face.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I just … I had to try to show how sorry I was. How sorry I still am."

"I know."

You sighed.

"As much as I would like to blame it all on you, it was on me as well."

At that, Matt sat up straighter and protested.

"That's not true–"

Your hand sprung out to hold his hand, keeping him there. Matt stilled as if your touch had paralyzed him.

"Please, listen to me."

You went on despite the slight shake in your voice.

"I let my expectations run wild even though we were clear from the start. It was a mutual benefit arrangement."

His other hand came to rest on top of yours. Warmth seeped from the palms of his hands, and you wished you were enveloped in his embrace instead.

"I stepped over the line myself. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me. I gave you mixed signals and lied to you about my own feelings."

You inhaled deeply. 

"What feelings?"

"I really thought it was better to keep you at arm's length and not let myself … feel things for you, but I did anyway. I should have been honest with you. But I thought I wasn't deserving of someone like you."

Your heart rattled in the cage that was your chest.

"What are you saying, Matt?"

A sorrowful relief caressed his face.

"I love you. I regret not saying that to you every day we were apart."

You felt as if all the air was pulled out of your lungs.

"Don't lie to me, please. I don't want you to just– just say what I want to hear. I'd rather never have you than to have you unwillingly."

Matt placed your hand on his heart, letting you feel the rhythm underneath your palm. Erratic, wild and uncontrollable, just like yours.

"I only want you. I think about you all the time. I'm miserable when you're not around."

"I don't know what to say …"

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed it with a tenderness you had missed dearly.

"That's okay. Take your time. I'll wait for you as long as you need."

He paused briefly, then continued as if it took great strength for him to utter the words.

"Even if you no longer feel the same, it's okay, too."

You couldn't conceal the wide smile in your voice.

"I mean, telling a girl that you love her before going on a first date with her? Mindy wouldn't like that."

Matt chuckled, the sound warm like the honey he put in your tea.

"Was Mindy the one …?"

"Yup. She doesn't like you at all."

"I deserve that."

You caressed his face, feeling the stubble along his jawline. There was a feeling you thought you would never get again, but now, you were basking in its glow.

"Can we … can we take it slow?"

His lips found the palm of your hand, kissing it tenderly.

"Of course. Anything you want."

*Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!* Follow my side blog to receive notifications whenever I post! @cellophaine-archives

Taglist for this specific fic: @nyutasgirl @havlindzk @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @carstairswife

[razzmatome]

Beauty (Part I)

There was no way he didn’t know something was up. Hiding things from him on a good day was almost impossible but how would she do it when she was already on edge? There was no way she could have known he’d wrap up early but why on the one night she’d worked up the courage to try wearing it?

Pairing: Jude/OC Words: 2455 CW: body insecurities, fat shaming (not done by oc or suitor) A/N: This was inspired by one of @/judejazza's prompts for the Invitation to Crown event but I couldn't get it to work with me in time to finish for that. But I fought it and then realised the problem was it needs to be in three parts. Header and borders by @/natimiles

Part I (sfw) // Part II (nsfw) // Part III (sfw)

            Twisting in front of the mirror, Bea felt her cheeks heat. Why had she made this? Yes, the girls at the shop hadn’t stopped talking about a new trend in underthings but she shouldn’t have given in. This garment was more lace than cloth and left very little to the imagination. While she could see why someone might want to wear this for a lover, the confidence to do so was beyond her.

            She huffed softly as she dropped down on her heels and started at the outfit. She didn’t know what had possessed her to make it out of these dark colours but when the shipment had arrived last week she’d given in. They’d been a bit of an impulse purchase anyways and hadn’t been attached to a client’s order. She hadn’t wanted them to just gather dust in the shop so she had done this…and perhaps she shouldn’t have.

            Sighing, she wrapped herself in a dressing gown. Well, she had tried it so she knew she could make them. Hopefully that would be enough for the girls to stop asking for it. Now to just-

            The bedroom door opened behind her.

            Heart leaping into her throat, she glanced over her shoulder even thought she knew it was him. No one else would come into his room without knocking. “You’re back early,” she said, hoping her voice sounded even.

            Jude gave her an odd look that told her she had most likely failed. “Ya gotta problem with that?”

            “Of course not.” If he’d wrapped up early, things had likely gone smoothly which seemed to be a rare occurrence these days. But she’d expected him later which was why she’d tried this damn thing on. She wasn’t ready for him to see her in it nor hear his opinion on it. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted either of those things to happen. “I’m going to take a bath,” Bea said.

            He grunted quietly, shrugging off his overcoat. But she could feel his eyes on her as she moved to the bathroom.

            It was hard to breathe until she closed the door behind her. Sagging against it, she quietly cursed herself. There was no way he didn’t know something was up. Hiding things from him on a good day was almost impossible but how would she do it when she was already on edge? There was no way she could have known he’d wrap up early but why on the one night she’d worked up the courage to try wearing it?

            Crossing to the tub, she let the dressing gown drop to the floor and turned on the taps. She just needed to get into the bath and forget all about it. Her nose wrinkled as she realised she hadn’t grabbed a nightgown before coming in. Well, she’d have to deal with that later. She wasn’t going back out there while she was still in this.

            She twisted her hair up as the tub filled and reached for the ribbon between her breasts.

            “Whatcha wearin’?”

            Bea gasped and spun around. She hadn’t even heard the door open! How long had he been standing there?! “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

            “Me? You’re the one bein’ suspicious,” he said, lazily blowing out smoke. “Ya ain’t even said hello.”

            She hadn’t? Of course she hadn’t because she had been worried about him seeing her in- Her eyes widened. “Get out!” she cried, spinning away from him.

            Another exhale before she heard the clicking of shoes on tile. Coming closer, not leaving.

            “Jude, please, go-” Her voice gave out as a cold finger touched the back of her neck and trailed down her spine until it hit lace.

            “Don’t like repeatin’ myself, princess,” he said lowly, his voice making her shiver. “So answer my question.”

            Bea bit her lip, trembling as he traced along the edges of the lace. “The girls asked me to make it,” she whispered.

            Smoke and sandalwood filled her senses as he moved closer. “And you hid it?”

            “I didn’t want you to see,” she said in a small voice.

            He seemed to pause before he reached past her to turn off the faucets. “Who else ya gonna wear it for?” he growled.

            “No one! I didn’t want to wear it at all!” She made a noise when he spun her around, immediately crossing her arms over her chest. The bodice had too much lace and her breasts were straining against the lacing. Why wouldn’t he just leave?!

            “Why ya fuckin’ hidin' from me? Ain’t like I haven’t seen ya before.”

            Heat flooded her face as she kept her gaze focused on one of his buttons. Before was different. She was usually so awash in pleasure from whatever he was doing to even care what he saw. But this was putting herself on display and she didn’t want that.

            Long fingers gripped her chin and jerked her up to look at him. “What’s goin’ on here, princess?”

            She didn’t want to look at him. And she didn’t want him to look at her. Making this damned thing had been a mistake and she was never doing it again.

            Jude watched her with narrowed eyes that made her quail. He would see right through her, see what she didn’t want him to know. Couldn’t he just let her have this and go away?

            “It doesn’t suit me!” she blurted, nerves getting the better of her.

            “Says who? Someone see ya in it before me?”

            Why did he sound angry? “No! Of course not! No one’s seen me in it. No one was supposed to see me in it!”

            He was giving her a look she recognised but it had never been directed at her. It was the one he got when he was going over a contract, making sure he analysed every single inch of it from every angle. “Why make it if ya ain’t gonna wear it?”

            “The girls want to sell it.” If he hadn’t caught her in it, she would have never admitted to anyone that she had made the prototype for herself. No one at the shop would question her about it; if anything they would assume she’d made it for one of her sisters.

            A low hum of consideration. “Show me.”

            Bea gaped at him as he let go of her chin to grab her wrist. “W-What?” she stammered as he pulled her back into the room.

            “If you’re gonna sell it, ya gotta test it on the intended market,” he said over his shoulder.

            She continued to sputter even after he let her go. She stood in the middle of the room as he moved to settle in his chair and lit another cigarette. He could not be serious. He couldn’t be! Shaking her head, she took a step backwards.

            “Ya’ll regret it if ya run.”

            She already regretted all of this! Bea stared at him, feeling sick. “Jude, I can’t,” she whispered.

            “Why not? You’re already wearin’ it so show me.”

            But all of her flaws were on display in this outfit! It was cut low over her breasts, the legs barely reached midthigh, and the lace was transparent enough that it may as well not be there.

            “Beatrice.”

            Her gut clenched. No. No, no, no. He knew exactly what he was doing saying her name like that. He knew that it always made her melt! How could he use it now?! She stared at him, feeling helpless when he made a twirling motion with one finger. He wasn’t going to let her leave, not unless she did what he wanted. But…could she actually do this?

            He didn’t move as she struggled, slowly working on his cigarette. His eyes never left her for a moment and kept her pinned to the spot.

            What was she even supposed to do? She didn’t handle the front of house; she simply made the clothes. How was she supposed to show him?

            “Ya gonna show me or just stand there?”

            “What do you want from me?”

            “What do I want?” Jude repeated. “I wanna know what the hell is goin’ on with my girl that she hides from me.”

            She blinked at him. What?

            He exhaled hard and gave her a scathing look. “Ya ain’t been actin’ right since I got here. I don’t get why that-“ He waved at her outfit. “-is makin’ ya act like this.”

            “It doesn’t look good on me.”

            “Says. Who.” He said the words shortly, nearly spitting them out. “I’m the only one who’s seen ya in it and I ain’t said that shit.”

            There was that anger again. It didn’t seem like it was directed at her but what was he mad about?

            Jude stubbed out his smoke and leaned back in his chair. “Show me, princess. Show me what you made.”

            Why was he mad? Because she said it didn’t look good on her? It didn’t! But she took a small step toward him. “They’re modified combinations,” she said softly.

            “I’ve seen yer combinations. They don’t look like that.”

            “They’re not for everyday wear. They….” They were meant to be exciting, playful, sexual. They weren’t meant to be worn for very long and were designed to come off easily.

            “That much lace ain’t gonna be comfortable for long.”

            “You’re supposed to take it off,” she whispered, blushing.

            He hummed low in his throat. “An invitation to play with ya? Pretty wrappin’ for a pretty present?”

            Bea shrugged. It wasn’t how she would describe it but he wasn’t wrong. It was meant to entice a partner into wanting the wearer, into wanting to get it off of them.

            He sucked on his cheek, considering her with narrowed eyes. “But ya think it doesn’t look good on ya.”

            “It doesn’t.”

            “Why?”

            Did he really want her to admit it? Did he want her to say it out loud? Her eyes dropped from his, staring at his shoes as misery washed over her. “Because I’m fat,” she said in a small voice.

            “What.”

            Her throat grew tight. She’d already said it once. Was he really going to be so cruel as to make her say it again? No. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t care what he did to her for running, she needed to get away from him and out of this thing.

            She spun on her heel, moving toward the bathroom. She barely took a step before hands clamped onto her hips, digging in, and holding her in place. “Jude!”

            “Shut it,” he growled, hauling her to the chair. He spun her to face him before pulling her down to straddle his lap. He held her in place when she tried to squirm away, snapping, “What did ya just say?”

            Bea stared at him before shaking her head.

            He gripped her chin and gave her a small shake. “What did ya fuckin’ say about my girl?” he demanded.

            She blinked at him. What? “I’m…fat.”

            “So?”

            Frowning at him, she wasn’t sure he understood what she was trying to say.

            He gave her another shake. “Tch, is that what all that shit is ‘bout?” he muttered.

            What was he talking about?

            He gave her a look that would have had her moving away from him if he’d let her. “Ya think I don’t notice how ya barely let me see ya naked? Or how fast ya get dressed in the mornin’s? Or that ya prefer the lights bein’ off when I fuck ya?”

            Her eyes slide away from him, a flush settling on her cheeks. She’d never thought about it before because he’d never commented on it but she should have known better. Reading people was what kept him alive. Of course he had noticed her behaviour.

            “Thought I was the damn problem,” he muttered.

            She turned back to him. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

            He snorted. “There’s plenty wrong with me, princess,” he said dryly.

            “Jude-”

            “No. Whatever you’re gonna say, no.”

            “You don’t-” She huffed when his grip on her chin changed to force her mouth shut.

            “I don’t wanna hear that bullshit,” Jude said lowly, holding her gaze. “I told ya no one ever gets to hurt ya. That includes if you’re gonna fuckin’ cut yerself down.”

            He hadn’t let go so there was nothing she could say to that. A shiver ran through her as his other hand trailed down her side.

            “Fat,” he muttered. “Ya say it like it’s a bad fuckin’ thing. You’re fuckin’ healthy.”

            She frowned at him. What was he on about? She jerked upward when he pinched her belly, whining softly. What was he doing?!

            Jude stroked his fingers lower, trailing them along the edge of lace around her thigh. “Fat,” he repeated, sounding even more annoyed than before. “Fat. Ya hid from me for somethin’ that stupid?”

            A gasp left her when he gripped her leg, fingers digging into her. She made a protesting noise as he didn’t let go, pain zinging through her.

            “Who made ya think that dumb shit, princess? Who put that in yer little head?”

            His hand finally moved, sliding down to loosely grip her throat. She swallowed reflexively as his thumb slowly rubbed along her neck. “No one,” she said softly.

            “Bullshit. Ya don’t just think that on yer own.” He paused, pale eyes considering her. “Yer sisters love ya so it ain’t them. Who was it?”

            “Just…people,” she admitted. “They think they’re being kind but their words are poison. They compare me to my sisters, my mother, like it’s supposed to make me happy. I’m the only one that looks like this and they want me to look like them. They think I’d look better if I was blonde, thinner, smiled more, gave more.”

            No comment from him, just those slow strokes of his thumb.

            “Are you sure you should eat that? Haven’t you had enough? That isn’t very ladylike. Oh that would look better on Maggie. You could look like her if you tried.” The words wouldn’t stop coming and she felt bile clog in her throat. But she pushed them out. “Good for a fuck and not much else.”

            His hand tightened around her throat briefly even as his expression froze. She saw the shift in his eyes, saw the anger bordering on rage, before they narrowed. “Who?” he demanded.

            I don’t remember. The lie hovered on her tongue but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t lie to him right now even though she had a damn good idea what would happen to whomever she named.

            Jude made a low noise as she whispered the names, his thumb rubbing over her throat again. “Good girl,” he said quietly. “Now sit still for me.”

[arinbelle]

Inevitable - Part I

A/N: The way that I am tired. I started this fic for @simpingfornestaarcheron way back in 2022. And it took me so long to get it here. We both wanted more of the mating frenzy that they allude to in the books and while the Solstice scene was beautiful, it just wasn’t enough. I wanted more. She wanted more. So, this one’s for you Beawulf.

Summary: Nesta and Cassian mated on the night of Winter Solstice. But before they could mate properly, Cassian left soon after, leaving Nesta reeling and Cassian wanting more. When they mate under an official ceremony, with ancient magic, that mating call is renewed, and Nesta and Cassian are going to be in a frenzy. I.e. I wrote 20k fic full of smut.

Part I  | Part II  | Part III  | Part IV

~*~

Cassian was no stranger to beauty. 

He’d been alive for a very long time and a direct impact from that was the ability to experience a vast and ever changing world, where beauty could always be found.

He’d visited springs and mountains, explored new cities and ancient villages, some still standing today and others having crumbled away long ago. All had encompassed beauty of some sort, all of which Cassian could still recall to this day.

He’d met so many people in his life. Some were only beautiful on the outside and what lay underneath had been deceptively ugly. Others were pure from within, and the outside reflected. He’d had many lovers throughout his life, males and females of astounding beauty that he would also never forget, nor was he trying to. 

Yet, even then, Cassian knew that the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, the most beautiful that he would ever see in his life, was Nesta Archeron.

From the moment they’d met, the moment her eyes had slashed into his own, slashed into his heart, he’d known his world would never be the same. The world had faded away from around them, and all that lay at the center was her.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

The wind had sighed her name incessantly around him, chattering presumptuously, as if he were some lovesick fool who would propose eternity together the minute she let him into her heart.

Of course, he was. He was that fool although he may never admit that aloud. Maybe to Nesta but only if she promised to keep it to herself. Which she wouldn’t, of course. And then he’d never hear the end of it from Gwyn or Emerie and worst of all, his brothers.

Nesta had taken his breath away the moment he’d looked at her all those years ago, angry and vicious, almost snarling with Fae contempt even when she was still delicately human.

Now it was her smile, soft and almost invisible, that took the breath straight out of his lungs and refused to give it back. Fitting, of course, since she’d stolen his heart too and would likely never let it be his own ever again. He’d never be alone again, and the thought was almost too consuming to ignore. He felt the tears well up in his eyes as she took the last step towards him, as Feyre and Elain each took her hand and placed it in his. 

“Are you crying, General?,” she whispered softly between them as he pulled her up to the dais, a wicked, knowing grin beginning to overtake her face.

Cassian forced a grimace, blinking furiously as they settled and faced the priest. “Of course not. You know I have allergies. And you still let Rhys bring an entire garden into this place.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. The only sign he had that he’d been caught was the press of her lips as she held in her laughter.

Cassian didn’t remember much of what the priestess was saying, only hearing when to turn and face Nesta, when to lift his hand to be tied by the ribbon, to lift the wine to her lips. All he could think of in those first few moments was her scent, her own mixed with whatever fragrance had likely been forcefully sprayed onto her by Mor. And her dress…

Cassian hadn’t been able to stop sneaking glances at it every time the priestess looked down at her prayer book. He’d expected a white dress, more conservative than what Fae fashion ever opted for, and essentially everything but what Nesta arrived in.

The dress was red. 

Somehow, in some way, it was the exact red of his Siphons, all of which he’d kept on top of his Night Court garb, even against Mor’s insistence. Nesta had asked him to keep them on weeks ago, and he hadn’t questioned it until he’d seen the dress. Feyre had remarked offhandedly once that she planned to paint the pair and the view of them standing at the dais together as they were mated. Now he understood just how beautiful it would look on canvas.

Cassian in black courtly finery, gilded with silver threads and buttons, embellished only by the ruby from his Siphons, would serve as a striking contrast to the brightness of Nesta’s ruby dress, setting off a light against her skin that seemed to make her glow. 

Lady Death swathed in bloodred with her dark Lord of Bloodshed beside her. 

He’d always hated the title and how it had grated on his nerves each time he heard it. But today, in that moment, it seemed to fit perfectly.

They said their vows, reciting them after the priestess, and made their agreements to the mating. Nesta had smiled so joyfully, so freely as she’d said “I do,” that any thought of hesitation, any worry that she didn’t want this completely left his mind.

The priestess made some more prayers in an Ancient Language that he could only partly understand, with Nesta looking wholly lost, and then it was done. The priestess declared it so and took her step back.

This was the only part he knew he would have down perfectly. Nesta seemed to know the train of his thoughts and he heard a soft scoff leave her, even as she took a step forward, matching him.

“Nes…,” he started, already grinning.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Bat.” 

Then she reached up with her free hand to pull his face down, rising up on her toes as she sealed his mouth to his in a kiss that Cassian could feel in his soul. In the thread that tied them together from within. 

His. She was his.

Cassian deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer, and Nesta welcomed it. It was only cheers and whistles behind that had Nesta pulling away from him. A slight blush stained her cheeks and he knew it was from the bold display, so different from how they often interacted in public. He smiled knowingly as she turned away from him, rolling her eyes. 

Emerie had screamed her congratulations when they’d come across her and Nesta had been temporarily whisked away as the pair spoke in excited whispers. He knew Gwyn had tried her best to muster the courage to come and for that alone, he was immensely proud of her. 

Azriel had clapped him on the shoulders before enveloping him in a rib crushing hug. Rhys had joined in soon after. Azriel had placed a kiss on Nesta’s cheek before hugging her as well, murmuring something in her ear that had made her laugh joyously. Cassian had reveled in the sound, in the life and true happiness it signified for her. 

It took what felt like ages to make their way down the aisles and greet their various guests, accepting their many blessings and congratulations. Cassian noted that the blush he’d caused from kissing Nesta so boldly had not faded through it all. It sent a ripple of satisfaction through him to see it. 

It was only when they made their way back to their seats, a table set up now where the priestess had confirmed their bonding ritual, that Cassian had a chance to speak to Nesta.

Making sure everyone else was milling around conversing, busy with filling up their plates with the rich variety of foods Rhys had bought, or finding their seats, Cassian leaned closer to Nesta. Holding the hand ribboned to his own tighter, he dragged the back of his free hand down her cheek.

“The things I’m going to do to you Nesta Archeron…this blush is going to pale in comparison then.”

Nesta flushed again and pushed away from him, shaking her head.

“Lech,” she admonished sharply, but he could feel the faint amusement in her voice. “There are people here. Children,” she pointed out, nodding at some younglings running around with sparklers. 

“Everyone is too busy getting food. They’re not paying attention to you,” Cassian dismissed. Then, just because he wanted to incite another reaction out of her, he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Not the way I’m going to the minute we’re out of here.”

Nesta pursed her lips but he could see it all too well. She was trying not to react, not to laugh, and she so badly wanted to.

“Lech,” she remarked again, before pointedly looking away from him. Just in time as Feyre swooped in to check on them and Cassian was forced to keep his innuendos to himself.

He let himself get a little creative when they took their first dance, an old Night Court waltz that he hadn’t done in centuries. Nesta glided with ease as he led them through it, and with the orchestra playing loudly enough to drown them out, Cassian took all the liberty he could with whispering filthy musings into Nesta’s ear every few turns. The crowd would only see Nesta laughing every so often as Cassian spoke nondescript words to her, wholesome to their eyes and completely unaware of just how lecherous he could be.

“You’re disgusting,” she whispered, just as the orchestra crescendoed to their end and he dropped her into a low dip, catching her only with a hand on the back of her neck, the other holding her calf up high.

Cassian smirked. “You love it.” Then he lowered his face to kiss her, still holding her in that final, finishing pose. Nesta, to his surprise, kissed him back with just as much fervor and continued doing so even as he pulled her up and set them both upright. The cheers were thunderously loud when they pulled apart and Nesta laughed alongside Cassian before tucking against his chest. Cassian brushed a kiss over her head as he looped a hand around her waist and led them off the center of the stage, welcoming the warm press of her body into his.

Dinner could have dragged on for centuries as far as Cassian was concerned. There were varied courses that Cassian barely ate, performances and acts put on from the various courts that were invited, all of whom Cassian politely watched but barely enjoyed.

All he cared about was getting himself and Nesta out of there and burying himself in her for hours and hours on end. Already he could feel the magic thrumming under his skin. The ancient call to claim, to touch, to taste. 

He had no idea how it worked. No one did. But he knew from the stories that mates, even those who may have consummated the mating privately, would feel that claiming instinct renewed with an official ceremony. Perhaps it was just another way to make sure a youngling was assured sometime in the near future. That was what Rhys had always thought. Some thought it to be the works of the Mother, others preferred to remember different deities.

 The priestess residing over ceremonies could sometimes invoke the boons of fertility and love and a good marriage from the older Goddesses that few still continued to worship. 

Whatever it was, Cassian was itching out of his own skin and he knew it wasn’t going to end for at least a few more hours. 

“What,” Nesta hissed slowly into his ear, “is wrong with you?”

Cassian scratched the back of his neck subtly. “I told you not to put these many flowers here.”

“Bullshit, you took a tonic for the pollen. I saw you. Why are you looking so…feral?”

Feral indeed. That was the only apt enough description for the roiling emotions going through him. That and the sheer instinct that was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. Cassian tried not to look at her for too long. He knew if he did it would only worsen things.

“Cassian-“

Cassian growled in frustration. “Nesta if you don’t stop talking to me within the next twenty seconds, I’m going to throw you onto this table and fuck you while everyone watches.” 

Cassian didn’t look but he felt the shock stillness that went through her. Felt rather than saw the interest that he’d sparked. And the arousal. 

While Cassian had honed his self control over centuries of brutal fights that forced him to act with intelligence rather than impulse, everything about Nesta set him off in the wrong direction. Anything she said, anything she did, was enough to wither that self control to a weak, futile impulsivity that had only ever gotten him in trouble. 

Nesta backed away slowly and settled back into her chair. Only for a few moments though before she waved her hand and Feyre suddenly materialized next to them. She’d worn a dark maroon, almost black dress that seemed to writhe around her as she approached Nesta. Cassian didn’t know what was happening between them but he knew they were likely talking mind to mind.

Elain had opted for the same style of dress, only in a pale peach that suited her complexion better than any of the dark colors the rest of the Night Court favored. The three of them had looked every bit sisters though when they’d walked Nesta up to him at the dais and handed her to him. Such care between the three of them now, it was almost impossible to believe how rocky it had been months ago. He knew though that while Nesta and Feyre had become closer after Nyx’s birth, her and Elain now had a tenuous almost strained relationship. 

But he knew they were trying, Nesta was trying again, and he’d support her in however much she needed or didn’t need from him. 

A few minutes later Nesta was getting up, Cassian being pulled up behind her by Feyre.

“What’s happening?,” he asked, almost tripping over his feet as he snuck a look back behind himself at the festivities still going on. “Won’t people wonder where we are?”

Nesta didn’t answer but Feyre snorted, replying, “Please. With the amount of wine that Rhys bought for this ceremony, I’m pretty sure no one even knows why they’re here right now, let alone that you two are leaving. Don’t worry about it.”

Before he could ask again if it was truly alright to skip out on his own mating ceremony, Feyre nabbed his wrist tightly and he felt the familiar pressure of winnowing surround him and push at him. As soon as it had begun it was also over, and the world fell back into place around him just as his feet met ground.

Ground, not stone, because they were no longer in a hall or palace or courtyard in Velaris. No, he’d know this place even blinded, by the feel of the air and the smell of the earth alone.

Nesta walked up to the house, closer than Feyre and Cassian, simply staring with what seemed to be wonder. 

Cassian let her. 

If he wasn’t proud of anything else that he’d accomplished in his life, this house wasn’t one of them. He’d put his blood and sweat into building it, literally at some point, and the years it had taken was worth all the effort in the end.

“What…,” Nesta trailed off.

“Thank you, Feyre,” Cassian murmured, and Feyre squeeze his shoulder in response.

He waved at her as she stepped back from them. She winked at him. "Enjoy yourselves children. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Nesta laughed, waving back right before Feyre winnowed away, leaving them alone in front of the house he hadn’t returned to in months.

Cassian wound his arm around Nesta’s waist and led them to the door. Nesta didn’t ask where they were again, but he knew the question still lingered on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s my home in Illyria. This is where I stay when I’m doing work here.”

Nesta watched him curiously for a moment before looking up at the two stories looming up above them. It was no mansion but it also wasn’t a hovel, or worse, a raggedy tent that could barely withstand the elements. It had been a splurge on his part to buy all the parts, plan out the detailings of the inside of the house and make it something his childhood self would have loved to have had when his life had consisted of only cold winters and barely there meals.

“Cassian,” Nesta spoke gently, pulling him from his memories. Cassian met her gaze, the stormy blue looking electrifying with the darkness surrounding them. She raised a palm to his cheek. “Where did you go?”

Cassian shook his head, discarding the old memories. It wasn’t the time. Now was the time for new memories and new moments, and he wouldn’t mess it up. He procured the heavy key from his pocket, handing it to Nesta.

Nesta’s brows rose in surprise but she took it all the same, inserting it into lock and twisting carefully. Almost as if she were being gentle. Safe.

Cassian pushed the door open and before she could step over the threshold, Cassian reached over and picked her up, carrying her over it.

She began swatting at him almost immediately. “What are you doing? Let me down, bat.”

Cassian laughed as he kicked the door shut behind them. “New brides have to be carried over the threshold. Feyre told me it’s tradition.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but he didn’t miss the fondness in her expression, even as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Human tradition. It’s not your tradition. And it’s silly.”

“But it’s yours, isn’t it?,” he asked gently as he led them deeper through the main living room and the smaller joining parlor. “You deserve to keep some of your human traditions intact. Hell, keep them all if you want. I don’t care.”

Nesta didn’t say anything but he saw the small smile that lit up the corners of her mouth right before she pressed her head closer to his chest. He placed a small kiss at her temple as he adjusted his hold on her and began making his way upstairs.

Cassian had known how difficult it had been for her to give up her human life. Little everyday reminders also didn’t help. In the days after Nesta had told she wanted to be mated, everything had been a flurry of meetings in Illyria regarding the Blood Rite along with meetings with boutiques and caterers for the ceremony. They’d originally planned to do it as soon as possible but a few days had stretched into a week, and a week into three. Cassian had had no idea just how much preparation went into weddings. And it would be a wedding. 

Nesta may have asked for a mating ceremony, but only the week before she’d nearly run away from him terrified of even the word “mate.” She’d told him clear as day that in her world, husband and wife was as good as it got and he’d blown up with anger at her. He’d taken fear as rejection and confusion as regret, neither of which were true when it came to Nesta’s feelings for Cassian. They’d talked it all out eventually. It was needed, he knew that, and when she’d come to him suddenly wanting to call off the ceremony because she worried he didn’t care for her enough, he’d known it was time to clear the air. Even after they’d agreed on what was needed for the future, their future, he knew he needed to do more than just say pretty words. 

So Cassian had sat through every cake tasting and every bridal shop’s color panels. He’d listened to every wish Nesta expressed she wanted to have and made sure it would be done. They’d incorporated details of a traditional human wedding into the Fae customs, making sure the priestess would say a mixture of both Fae and human wedding vows for them. 

It had been three days before their ceremony when Cassian had come from a meeting with Eris in the Spring Court. Nesta had chosen to stay behind that day and use it to relax with Emerie and Gwyn in the House. When he’d returned, neither of the girls were with his mate and he was already on edge from trading verbal blows with Eris. Nesta hadn’t been in their room or her old one, nor in the library. It was only after climbing up the highest levels did he find her sitting on a ledge overlooking Velaris, a thick window separating her from plummeting over.

She’d been crying- the scent of salt and sadness had been thick in the air when he’d found her.

“Sweetheart.”

But she hadn’t looked up at him. Hadn’t even turned around. So he’d done the only other thing he could think of. 

He’d joined her in silence until her tears had dried to what he knew had to be itchy invisible streaks on her cheeks. She had climbed off the ledge and into his lap eventually and after a little more silence, Cassian had taken her down to bed.

Nesta had spoken in a broken whisper into his chest, “There’s no one to give me away.”

“Hmm?,” he’d asked confused, carding his hand lightly through her hair.

Nesta had sniffled. Had pressed deeper into his side before replying. “It’s tradition. Stupid tradition. At our weddings fathers give the bride away. I never thought I’d care about that before but now, he’s just…gone. And he will never see it. He won’t give me away, he won’t see me married. He won’t know you and how wonderful you are. He won’t see our children. None of it.”

Cassian had listened silently, his heart cracking at her admission. He had never thought of it. There was no such tradition for the Fae and even if there was, Cassian had gone a lifetime without his mother. And even though her absence haunted him sometimes, he had lost her young enough to have very few memories of her. Had lost her for long enough so that some things truly didn’t pain him. But for Nesta, whose loss was still so fresh, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise to him that she was still struggling with his absence.

Cassian hadn’t been able to say anything to comfort her. So he had only held her tighter to him as if that alone could hold her together.

The next day he’d made sure to speak to Feyre about it and the sisters had decided to walk Nesta down the aisle together. Nesta had been elated to hear it and he’d breathed a little easier when he saw it.

Nesta began squirming in his arms, pulling him from his memories.

“Put me down Cassian. I’m serious.” She batted a hand uselessly at his chest but Cassian wouldn’t budge.

“I’m serious too, wife,” he replied with a snap of his teeth, “We’re doing this the right way.”

He didn’t miss the blush that dusted her cheeks at his newfound favorite word. He would always see her as his mate first, but for her, the word wife sent Nesta into a panicked, stammering, blushing mess. He never saw her so undone and he loved every minute of it.

It was only when they reached the first floor at the top of the stairs that he set her down softly. Nesta let her arms drop from around his neck slowly, her nails lightly raking along his skin as she pulled away. Cassian swallowed the growl that had threatened to rise to the surface at that innocent touch. Although knowing Nesta, there was absolutely nothing innocent in its intention.

Nesta stared down the hallway for a few breaths before finally turning towards him with a knowing glint in her eye. “Why don’t you give me the tour Commander?”

“How about you all the way down to that bedroom at the end of the hall and make yourself comfortable? It’s the only place you’re going to be in for most of this stay anyways.”

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Bathroom’s just on your left,” he added with a wolfish grin. 

Nesta laughed at that, undoing the ribbon that had bound their hands together up until then. He didn’t mind, didn’t even care, knowing they’d consummated this union in so many ways, so many times by now, it didn’t matter anymore.  

“You know what? Maybe I’ll go take a bath actually. I need to wash all this shine and rouge off. How about you go to the bedroom and make yourself comfortable?”

Before he could reply Nesta took a step closer, brushing her mouth over his. “After all, it’s the only place I’m going to keep you in for most of this stay anyways.”

Cassian laughed long after she’d locked the door to the bathroom on him, and long after he heard the water turn on too.

He made his way down to the lower levels of the house while he waited for her, washing off in a smaller bathing room he kept next to the birchin. The need that had been thrumming under his skin since they’d left their own mating ceremony had only intensified in the last hour. But the more Cassian thought about it, about how long the day had been and how exhausted Nesta had to be, the more he hesitated. He knew that once the magic took effect it would be hard to stop.

It had taken so much willpower the night after Solstice day for him to leave her there in the bed, still naked and smelling like sex and himself. So much willpower and they hadn’t even properly mated to the point of sated exhaustion. He’d avoided that mating frenzy that so often took over couples for weeks, sometimes months on end just by leaving her vicinity.

But he knew that now, especially with an official ceremony, with vows spoken and resided over by a priestess of the very magic that supplied all of Prythian, that mating claim would renew once again. 

And once Cassian had a taste, he wasn’t going to let go quite so easily.

Nesta had just slipped into his bedroom, in a silky, very short, black gown, interrupting all of his musings on the mating bond.

“Is that supposed to cover your ass too? Looks like it’s in Amren’s size.”

Nesta only toweled her damp hair slowly, cocking her head as she looked at him with wicked intent. “If you don’t like it Cassian, I can always just take it off.”

Cassian barked a laugh. She’d be the death of him. “Go ahead, Nes. I like a good show before bed.”

Nesta threw her towel at his head. Cassian ducked, grabbing it and just barely catching her mutter “Pig,” under her breath.

To his delight, Cassian didn’t have to go running after her as Nesta crawled onto the bed, lying down beside him. Cassian looked down at her, at the hair fanning out around her and before he could stop himself he was leaning down to drop a kiss on her lips. 

One kiss became two and two became many, many more. Somehow he’d ended up on top of her, their legs intertwining while Nesta bunched her fingers into his hair and tugged. Cassian took a breath, breaking away.

“Touch me,” she begged, flushed, out of breath. Because he hadn’t been. Because he’d been keeping it clean and simple, something neither of them ever did for very long when it came to sex.

Cassian ran a finger down her neck, past her fluttering pulse, and then lower.

Lower. Her chest heaved under his hand, breasts already pebbled and begging for him to taste, to bite. And Gods above he wanted to do it, to do all of it. But-

“No,” he finally managed to grind out. “You’re tired. It’s been a long day for both of us. I won’t be able to stop if we- don’t look at me like that Nesta. You’re the one that’ll regret it then.”

Nesta blew out a breath. “I don’t care.”

“I do.” He pressed a small, quick kiss to her lips before lifting off of her and getting off of the bed. “Go to sleep Nesta. I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Before he could change his mind, or worse, Nesta did something to change it for him, Cassian left his bedroom with his mate in it. 

He cursed as she tugged on the bond, hard, and sent him some very clear, very lewd thoughts and emotions on what she wanted from him. What he’d been desperately craving himself. He shut down the connection, ignoring his own rumbling desire pulling under his skin, and pretended he didn’t hear her muttered curses down the hall as he forced himself to fall asleep.

New Taglist:  Taglist: @endlessdaydream @sleeping-and-books @purpleglitterypinecone   @sv0430   @gwynberdara @karmasworlds @bookstantrash   @duskandstarlight  @d0riansgray @perseusannabeth@vasudharaghavan   @sayosdreams   @arielle-reads   @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @nahthanks  @oversizedbats  @swankii-art-teacher  @inardour  @rowaelinismyotp  @starryblueskies7   @vidalinav @nessiantrashh   @imagine-me  @iwastoowildinthe70s @lady-winter-sunrise @vanzetanze @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @mis-lil-red @nestaisgod  @booksstorm @loosingdreams @champanheandluxxury  @18moneytoad @starksravings @tinasbookishlife @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nesquik-arccheron @readingwitches @that-golden-lyre @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @story-scribbler @readingismyonlyhobby