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lauraneedstochill · 9 months

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Confess the longing you are dreaming of

summary: Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader (third person, no mention of Y/N) warnings: bantering and teasing, mentions of unpleasant sexual experience, praise kink (guess who’s got it), a dollop of softness, mild smut (... for starters ;) author’s note: couldn’t get the idea out of my head and spent a few sleepless nights writing this. I imagine her brothers as Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac ✨ words: ~8000 song inspo: Hozier — Better love

>>> Aemond isn’t present when the idea is voiced the first time — he has a hunch that his grandsire is to blame for that. No doubt, Otto was the one to plan it out, come up with arguments served with his persuasive tone. He’s always loved to make arrangements and strike deals, each one of them to play into his hands, and Aemond hates the thought of being just another pawn of his.

He is blindsided at the breakfast but it’s made sound carelessly mundane — as Otto puts down his cup, he throws him the proposal, the way one would leniently throw alms to the poor. And Aemond thinks he must’ve heard him wrong.

“Marry me to... Who?” the prince asks, hardly covering his surprise.

His grandsire directs his gaze at him, the old man’s mouth twitching into a condescending smile. Since Otto isn’t keen on idle talk, he tells him plainly:

“You’ve long been of age, Aemond, you know that,” his knife scratches the plate as he cuts the meat, his eyes not moving from the prince. “House Martell holds power, and we’ll be fortunate to have such allies. Besides,” he pauses to take a bite, and Aemond gets annoyed at waiting; Otto chews, then adds, “I’ve only heard good things about your bride-to-be. Wouldn’t you confirm, Ser Criston?”

The mention of the knight is unexpected to them both — Aemond turns his head to meet Ser Criston’s puzzled look. But the brunet effortlessly copes with his emotions:

“We met when she was just a kid. But I knew she’d grow into a fine lady,” he easily agrees. Mayhaps, too easily for Aemond’s liking so he makes a note to talk about it later on.

His grandsire only lets out a pleased hum. “Well, I’m under the impression she will make a good match for our prince,” and Aemond feels that Otto carefully picks each word, “She’s said to be both beautiful and smart, and known for being quite independent,” he’s usually so stingy with his praise, it’s worth its weight in gold.

But that is not what Aemond hears. The choice was made for him, and his rejection of it makes him paint a portrait less alluring — a pompous wayward woman raised in the traditions that are starkly different from his; and yet, it is expected of him to accept it freely. His wounded ego simmers at the thought.

“I’d add another word to that,” Aegon chimes in, half-drunk already, “Everyone knows the Martells to also be promisc—”

“Look who’s talking,” Otto glares at him, and Aegon shuts his mouth.

The word is left unsaid, only the meaning of it isn’t hard to guess, and Aemond feels embarrassment creeping up his cheeks and weighting down his chest. He deems himself an educated man, well-read and eager to put his knowledge to the test, but he has yet to learn of carnal pleasures. A memory is clawing out: him, ten-and-three and plied with wine, laid on a bed that smelled of sweat, a naked woman next to him. Despite her tireless attempts, he wanted none of it, and the repulsion made him sick — and then it made him hate the act itself.

He did go to the brothel through the years, tried watching, touching, looked at bodies of all sorts, only it felt like putting paint over a rotten wall. He felt constrained, and lacking in some way (perhaps, in many), and more so awfully incomplete. Not once he sensed a spark, a pleasure he would crave, and no amount of effort could help him fill the emptiness inside.

He quells the feeling, pushes in indifference instead, and glances briefly at his mother. She meets his eye but only grants him a faint smile, her own gaze lacking any protest.

“Her brothers wrote that they would visit in a fortnight,” Alicent peacefully explains. “It is our duty to ensure a royal welcome.”

“Brothers?” Helaena blithely chirps. “How many does she have?”

“Four but only two of them are coming,” Otto tells her softly, then looks at Aemond, adding in a voice more wily. “I am convinced they really want to see whom their dear sister is about to marry.”

He doesn’t spell it out but the implication can’t be clearer — Aemond must play the part and make a good impression. As if impressing just one stranger wasn’t tedious enough.

As if he isn’t vexed already by how unsuitable he finds her.

>>> Frustration grows in Aemond with each day, takes roots, and clogs up all his thoughts. Some other man would’ve been glad — he often heard that the Martells are quite the lovers. He can’t admit it to himself how much he’s bothered by his own misfortunes on the love field.

He bottles his emotions up and doesn’t utter any word of discontent, nor does he ever speak of the awaited visit. Although he makes just one exception.

“My grandsire mentioned that you knew her,” he reminds Ser Criston one day after training.

The knight nods. “I crossed paths with Quentyn, he’s the oldest. She used to come to watch us train.”

“What was she like?” Aemond carefully wonders.

Ser Criston ponders for a minute, polishing his sword. “She was a quiet little girl, kept to herself. A lot of boys were always chasing after her, and she paid them all no mind,” he smiles at the memory. “But I remember one of them who was... particularly pesky. His charms didn’t work on her so he got offended, rude, followed her around. She tolerated him for over a month. One morning, he was hassling her in the training yard, and she just took a spear laying nearby — and smacked him with no warning,” he shakes his head but it’s apparent that he isn’t judging. “She didn’t use the pointy end but she got him good. And then she told him that next time he would think twice about his actions. She was impressive for a ten-year-old,” he muses and puts the sword away, then turns to Aemond, giving him a wistful stare. “Frankly, I think that you will like her.”

He does, for just a second, as his mind rushes to paint the image of a fearless little girl; and then he mercilessly wipes that image off. Maybe in other circumstances, he could’ve found amusement in that story, but Aemond only huffs and thinks back to the list of all her traits he prematurely made up. He adds “rebellious” to that list, and his self-doubt is a venom that clouds his judgment. He’s in no rush to find a cure.

>>> Their ship arrives a few hours earlier than planned — and after the dock watchers break the news, the bustle begins. Maids, servants, guards all run and faff about the castle, the dining hall gets filled with smells and noises, plates and dishes clanking.

Aemond is not excited in the slightest.

He dresses up reluctantly, each piece of clothes only dampening his mood that’s been already sour for the past two weeks. He all but drags his feet into the dining hall and by the time he reaches it, he looks so grim that one may think the prince’s preparing for his death, no less.

The minutes fly too quickly for his liking — they barely have time to sit, his mother nervously toying with the tablecloth already, and then the guards rush to announce the guests. Surprisingly, she’s not among them. The prince thinks he should be relieved; deep down, there is a splash of worry fizzling in him.

Her brothers walk in calmly in a cloud of servants bearing gifts. Their kinship is immediately clear — both tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired, self-confidence subsisting in their every step. The oldest is distinguished by a touch of gray in his short beard, his gaze more focused, a slight smile plastered on his face. The other one shamelessly stares at every maid his eyes can catch.

“Your grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” Quentyn reaches their table first, and Alicent walks down to greet them. He keeps his distance and his smile, his tone is measured. “We were so sad to learn that the King has fallen sick. But I can tell the Kingdom is in great hands. And —”

“Women’s hands do have a healing touch,” Oberyn smoothly interrupts, his accent a bit thicker, his voice honeyed. “I will prefer a Queen over a King at any given day. Unless, of course, your husband can compete with you in beauty... I somehow doubt that.”

A shade of disapproval grazes Quentyn’s face but Alicent is too amazed to notice. The compliment may come off as blunt but she still takes it well, her smile embarrassed yet sincere.

“I hope you will enjoy your stay,” she tells them humbly, then looks over the crowd. “But may I ask where is the lady we’ve been waiting for?”

“She made a stop on our way to catch up with an old friend,” Quentyn answers, ready to explain, “It’s been years since we’ve met Ser —”

“Still can’t believe he is the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Oberyn chuckles. “I think it’s all the armor that makes it look like he poses a threat. But you may reconsider if you see him in the nude.”

This time, the older brother glares at him with warning, and there’s a lull in their conversation, while Aemond’s struggling to hear what made his mother’s cheeks so red, his mind nervously preoccupied with someone else —

her laughter enters first.

It’s bright and joyful, a sound so lovely it might be enough to crack up his restraint. But then he spots her, and it feels like his whole body flares up at the sight.

She’s walking with her hand under Ser Criston’s arm, and Aemond’s never seen a dress that covers so much but hides so little. It’s muted orange, floor-length, made of sumptuous silk, with two long slits along the sides, curves of her thighs beguilingly seen through. Her neck and arms aren’t covered, and the material is intricately stitched around her waist to show a few more glimpses of her sun-kissed skin. The waves of her long hair fall on her shoulders and frame her face, each feature of it striking but her lips stand out the most — full, plump, and reddish. Not once before Aemond found the thought of being kissed so tempting.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at him. She’s talking to Ser Criston quietly, and he’s engaged in conversation, unusually relaxed. Their difference in age is obvious, and the knight seems like just another relative of hers, but an uneasy feeling still leaves a bite on Aemond’s chest. He can’t imagine her so carefree — so beaming and compliant — by his side. His jealousy tastes bitter like a stale wine.

He hears his brother let out a short laugh. “It’s not like they were fucking,” Aegon carelessly notes. “Please ease your outrage before she runs away.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice,” Aemond snarls.

“You do look like you need it,” the blond comments, then goes back to drinking.

She gracefully approaches them, her voice melodic like a murmur of a river. “Forgive me, your grace, for being late, I haven’t seen Ser Criston in some time,” she tells his mother. “He was once a dear friend of mine.”

“I only helped to shush away a few of your admirers,” the knight cackles, earning a smile from her.

“I hope you are making use of all his talents,” she says to the Queen, making her face flush right away.

She delicately moves on to another topic. “It is a pleasure to have you here, you must be tired from taking such a long trip.”

“We found it quite enjoyable,” Quentyn remarks politely. “The beautiful sights along the way are worth the journey, and your city has some great views too.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard great things about your food,” Oberyn grins. “Hence why we took the liberty to bring some of our own,” he signals to the nearest servant, who runs to open one of the trunks they carried. “The dornish fruits are also my sister’s weak spot.”

“As if you don’t gorge yourself on them!” she jests, letting go of Ser Criston’s arm at last. “My brother is a glutton, your grace, please excuse his manners in advance.”

“You can call me Alicent,” his mother corrects her warmly. “Only seems fair to continue this discussion at the table,” she slightly moves away to let the girl go first.

Aemond unintentionally stiffens and only when he stands up from his chair to greet her, she finally does look at him. In contrast to her countenance, her gaze is dark and piercing, and the prince is staggered by how unreadable it is. Her brothers glance at Aemond briefly — Quentyn is pensive, while Oberyn looks like he wants to bite his head off; neither says a word.

She’s seated to his right, and she leaves behind a trail of scent — apples and plums, and he can’t help but catch the movement of her hips under the flowing dress. The words all mash and fall apart, and he can’t pick a single one to strike up a conversation.

Aegon is sitting next to her, and his patience only lasts a minute. “Never knew Ser Criston was such a ladies' man.”

“I’m sure he succeeded on that front but we are merely good friends,” she answers calmly, keeping her eyes on servants bringing fruits — blood oranges and pomegranates, robust grapes, and ripened cherries.

“You two seemed more than friendly,” Aegon presses, his tone evidently taunting.

She picks a golden apricot and runs her thumb over its fragrant surface. “Maybe it’s the wine that makes you see things,” she rebuts and takes a bite out of the fruit, a drop of juice risking to escape her mouth but she wipes it swiftly with her finger. She catches Aemond looking, and his cheeks heat up.

“We’ve never seen him in the company of a woman,” the older prince points out, filling up his cup once more.

She takes out the kernel and eats up the fruit, her mouth glistens. “Aren’t the knights of the Kingsguard forbidden to marry?”

“Never stopped them from bedding whoever they like,” Aegon remarks crudely, and Aemond is thankful that their mother is too preoccupied with Oberyn’s tireless chatting.

“Maybe some men have the decency to follow orders,” she responds, unbothered, taking a cherry and clasping it with her lips. Aegon doesn’t seem to notice and only gulps the wine and rolls his eyes. Aemond can’t look away.

“Aren’t you Martells known for not following the rules? I thought unruly was in your house’s motto,” Aegon argues, a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.

She takes another cherry, the third in a row, her lips already stained with juice. “I think you keep getting your facts wrong,” she brushes him off, and Aegon goes to object some more but spills the wine right on his shirt. The displeased cry brings Aemond out of his trance.

“He tends to do that when he’s drunk,” the one-eyed prince coolly interjects.

Her eyes flicker to him, then she fully turns her head. “So you can actually talk,” her teasing comes off soft but her gaze still burns. “It’s good to know.”

“You seemed preoccupied with someone else,” he musters an excuse.

“Do you expect your wife to never speak to other men?” her voice almost betrays her disenchantment.

“No,” Aemond quickly answers, caught unawares by how strained his thinking process is. “She— you are free to choose your friends, of course.”

“I’m flattered,” her tone suggesting otherwise, “Not that I would ask for anyone’s approval,” she reaches for a plum; he closes his eye with a sigh.

Aegon comes to stand in between them on the pretext of needing another carafe of wine: “I didn’t mean to interrupt your friendly bickering, please continue.”

“It seems like Aemond isn’t in the mood for talking,” she doesn’t look at him, the tip of her tongue darting to lick her finger. “And I am never in the mood for begging.”

“My brother’s hospitality leaves much to be desired,” Aegon takes a sip. “So I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” his hand falls on her chair. “But if you ever wish to be... well satisfied, all you have to do is ask me”.

It’s hard to tell if Aegon’s actually that drunk or merely provoking (or if he’s got a death wish, Aemond wonders).

She replies without much thought. “Well, if I ever find myself in need of...,” she trails off with a smile but her gaze gets harsh — her words then follow, “My choice won’t fall on you,” the smirk falls off Aegon’s face, and she glances straight at Aemond, adding, “I like them taller.”

But her straightforwardness is met with his resistance, with the deep-rooted unacceptance of his lurking needs. He adds “indecent” to the list, and they speak no more.

>>> Her boldness doesn’t pose a problem to anyone but him. To his surprise (or more so to his shock), his mother gives in first.

The morning can’t come fast enough for Aemond after he spends the night tossing and turning. A few hours later he rushes to the garden for a walk, overwhelmed by restlessness his training didn’t help him cope with. That’s when he sees it — a spot of yellow shining through the trees. He somehow knows it’s her without further confirmation but still, his feet carry him on.

Her dress is vivid like a field of marigolds, her hair plaited, wrists adorned with golden bracelets. He slackens pace and peers into her — and he wants nothing more than to drink her up, her whole appearance is the sweetest nectar... Until he hears another sound and realizes she is not alone, and it’s his mother sitting by her side, wrapped in her favorite green and, unexpectedly, in glee. He can’t remember when he saw her laugh like this — out loud, giggling, tears at the corners of her eyes are not from sadness but from joy.

“My dear, that is so improper! Did he apologize at least?” Alicent inquires with a smile.

“Oberyn rarely does,” she tells her serenely. “His lover looked way more ashamed. I hope each of your rooms has locks, gods know I don’t want to walk in on him again.”

Unlike his mother who is covered by the shade of trees, she’s bathing in the sun, the soft light caressing her skin, and Aemond’s eye greedily follows every ray. In barely a minute he feels warm all over.

“I hope that Aemond’s chambers got locks too,” she adds all of a sudden, a bit louder, and his chest is splashed with cold.

His eye moves to her face, and she’s already looking at him, direct and daring. He knows he’s hidden by the trees but there’s no hiding from her gaze.

Aemond turns away and steps back in haste, his abashment mixed with grievance at her implication. He believes someone like her would never lust for him, and her jokes at his expense not only hurt but prompt his resentment to grow stronger. He adds “deceptive” to the portrait of her he is so adamantly set on painting.

>>> She wins Helaena’s heart with ease. His sister fondly compliments her brooch — a little poppy made out of gold — and she gifts it to Helaena the same day. The silver-haired princess grabs at chance to show her own collection, and they spend the day looking through the jewels spread over the floor, sitting right there and equally amused.

And that’s how Aemond finds them. He only planned to see his nephews but hearing her voice coming from Helaena’s chambers makes him slow his step.

“... And this one he gave me for my latest name day,” Helaena babbles cheerfully.

“Aemond clearly spoils you,” she laughs without a shade of envy. “As he should!”

“He is very kind at heart,” Helaena eagerly assures her. “You will be happy with him, I am certain of it.”

There is a pause that makes him feel uneasy, makes him sneak up closer to the room.

“I do believe he’s not an evil man,” she finally says, “Maybe he just wasn’t made for marriage.”

Surely she can’t see him through the door but he can swear that he feels her gaze, like a silent challenge, a hidden mocking. He barges in without a knock.

Helaena beams. “We were just talking about you!”

His sister’s dress is milky blue, modestly pretty, and loosely fitted. It’s also treacherously pale compared to the liquid gold the Martell girl is dressed in. She’s sitting with her feet under her thighs, the bending of her back is bare and in plain sight. He should’ve walked away the second he heard the sound of her voice because not looking at her seems impossible.

“Oh, you came to see the twins? They are with Aegon but I can call— No, I will bring them back myself,” Helaena springs to her feet, rosy-cheeked and smiley, and leaves the room before Aemond can protest. And then it’s just the two of them.

He takes a breath and makes an effort, with his jaw tense and his blood rising, to drag his eye away from her. It feels as pointless as ignoring sunlight in an open field on a summer day. Only her beauty is more brazen — and so is her wit.

“I take it, gold isn’t your favorite color,” she speaks up with an impish tone. “Would be a bad idea to wear it on our wedding then.”

She never comes too close, always just a little out of reach, and yet he feels as if her presence grips him, weakening his will. He doesn’t want to be with her until he is — and then he has no wish to leave.

It scares Aemond as much as it spikes his anger.

“Why did you agree to come?” he bristles.

“You are not asking about your sister’s chambers, are you?” she clarifies, and he hears her smiling.

He tells himself he only needs to cast a glance to check.

He does — he meets her gaze — her earrings catch the sunlight and cast a trail of glares — the scattering of specks play on her skin, her neck and collarbones, sneak to her upper chest — his own is heaving. His struggle only lasts a moment but it leaves him short of breath. He isn’t looking anymore, his eye trying to discern the pattern on the drapes behind her.

“Our marriage, how do you benefit from it?” he hates how hard it is to control his voice.

And how she watches him intently without giving him a clue of what’s on her mind.

“I plan on visiting my family a couple of times a year. It will be easier to do on dragon back,” she doesn’t sound spiteful when she says it but her words still sting.

He can’t stop an image flashing through his mind: her on top of Vhagar, lungs full of air, pressed to him. It’s tempting — to have her in his hands, and yet the vision is too intangible to cling to. Instead, he thinks that in just three days she learned to play him like a harp, his years' worth of self-control is merely a sand castle against the tide of her sharp tongue.

He only snickers dryly at her reply, then they both hear the sound of running footsteps. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys rush to greet him — but almost instantly abandon, the kids' attention drawn to the shining golden dress.

He thinks “unruly” suits her better than does “pompous”. He comes up with a fake excuse to leave; the image of her stays with him.

>>> He picks more adjectives as the week goes on — she’s audacious, disobedient, wanton. She moves around the castle as if she owns every room she’s in. She wears less, and even on rare occasions when she doesn’t, her defiance more than compensates for it. She never shies away from a deep neckline, nor does she feel the need to hold back her resounding laughs. Her jewelry clinks, each of her dresses is brighter than the other, but it’s her wicked mouth his eye always falls on first.

More times than not, Aemond can’t tear his gaze away, each meal for him now both a torture and a feast.

He watches as she parts her lips, puts them around a luscious grape, a cherry, or a peach, she swipes her tongue to lick up every running drop, savoring its tang — and keeps eye contact with him. He barely can taste the food he’s eating, and no wine can quench his thirst, his body flooding with a feeling he can’t define, his heart adrift.

He tries to fight it off with all our strength. He scratches off “unruly” to write down “unabashed” instead.

But then the dinner comes, and even though he’s never had a taste for sweets, he thinks he’d eat them from her lips (deep down, he wants to). The lies he tells himself are brittle like the flesh of fruits under her teeth.

>>> He comes to think “insufferable” fits her the best. That thought rings in his head while he is standing in the stable, his eye on anything but her. He was informed she wished to pick a horse, and he begrudgingly agreed to come, only to keep up the pretense.

What turns out to be much harder is for him to keep restraint. The dress she’s wearing might as well be a chemise — it’s just as light and white, and much to his discomfort, it also tirelessly risks hiking up to expose more of her legs.

Discomfort, mayhaps, isn’t the right word for it.

He stays out of her way but, unsurprisingly, he ends up looking — at how she walks, spring in her step, swinging her hips. She gives each horse a piece of apple and feeds them by hand, strokes their muzzles, and then she mounts and rides them, one by one. She grabs the reins, her foot easily finds the stirrup, and as she swings her leg over the saddle, her dress slips up, showing a few inches of her skin.

He swallows thickly, glances more intently — over her dainty ankles, bending of her knees, he notes how smooth her skin is, soaking up the sun. Her dress then billows slightly, and his eye glides higher, hungry, follows up the contour of her thighs that bounce a little as the horse gallops.

He feels it blooming — a sensation with no name that travels from the lower chest down to his very navel, then spreads and tightens all that’s underneath.

He is so deep in his enthrallment, he doesn’t hear the steps approaching until there’s someone standing next to him. Quentyn stays silent for a minute, throwing him a sideways glance.

“My sister’s always been terribly picky,” the man says out of the blue, “And usually it’s hard to meet all of her demands,” — it doesn’t seem like it’s the horses he is talking of. The vagueness of it makes Aemond focus as he takes his eye off her but Quentyn doesn’t elaborate, giving him a smile instead. “I do admit, your patience is commendable. Some other man would’ve already interfered just to wrap the process up.”

“I was under the impression she doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Aemond replies evasively.

“You guessed it right,” Quentyn titters, his tone veiled with the same unclear meaning when he adds, “The only thing left for us all is to accept it,” and with that, he goes to join his sister.

When Aemond — tamely, almost yielding — takes a peek at her, his gaze collides with Oberyn’s who clearly watched them talk. Unlike his older brother, he prefers to stay away, but the mischief in him pairs really well with danger. He grants Aemond a nod, switching attention back to her, his threats unspoken for the meantime.

For just a second, it gives Aemond pause as he finds it odd that no one brings up their wedding, and no announcements have been made ever since she came. He doesn’t mull over it for long because her laughter interrupts his thoughts (or maybe he just yearns for any chance to look at her). She rides around the yard, her hair floating in the wind, a little breathless but breathtaking, her lips enticing and her curves making his throat dry.

He tries to ground himself, to look for explanations, for some reprieve from the entrancing spell he’s under — he’s never been so close to losing reason —

out of the corner of his eye, he sees a couple of guards dropping their gaze in poor attempts to stop themselves from gawking; it reins his passion, bringing back his jealousy instead. He’s way too used to seeing himself unworthy to even entertain the thought of having her, and his denial prickles. He wants to burn his feelings out, and anger helps with that — it breaks out and engulfs him fast, hardening both his heart and gaze.

“Quentyn is the friendliest of the two, and you couldn’t hold a conversation?” Aegon appears out of nowhere, seemingly displeased despite the bottle in his hand. “Must you always be so gruff? I stayed behind in hopes you’d make it work!” he waves at Oberyn then glares at Aemond, waiting for a reply. “Are you pretending to be deaf or...?”

“Must she test my patience?” Aemond mutters, his tone not jealous but exasperated, his eye boring into her, “Putting herself out like that for all the men to see.”

Aegon being speechless is a rare sight. He cannot fathom it at first, looking from Aemond back to her, confusion sobering him up. And then he grins, realization creeping up on him; there are some things he’s always quick to notice.

“It’s funny that you say that,” he leans in to tell him and catches Aemond’s gaze, “Since it’s just you who’s staring,” Aegon pats him on the back and leaves to greet her brothers.

Aemond tries to choke it down — his irritation and his shame combined, but it’s too much for him to handle, his head and heart clearly in conflict. He doesn’t wait for her to make a choice, retiring without sparing her a glance (a fear nibs at him that if he looks at her once more, he will stay rooted to the ground).

He doesn’t leave his chambers for the remainder of the day, dining all alone and fuming all the same. He’s usually good at curbing his emotions but he is having trouble understanding them, wanting nothing more than to erase all memories of her. But even in his solitude, he catches himself thinking — about her cunning smile and swaying hips, her eyes on him, his hands wanting to roam and touch and —

Aemond shoves unwanted thoughts away and goes to bed earlier than usual. He remains steadfast in his resolve to find some peace, he makes a conscious effort to shift his focus to all the boring, random things his mind can come up with until he is too tired to care.

But then he falls asleep, and his subconscious welcomes her. He sees her right before his eye in that obscenely short white dress, there are no people in the yard, her tantalizing moves all meant for him. She hops off her black horse and walks to him without a single word — anticipation makes him drop his guard and hold his breath — and then he feels her lips on his, her body pressing into him, his hunger for her ruining his self-control, the kiss is searing, suffocating, driving him insane, his fingers pulling up her dress —

he wakes up painfully aroused.

He lays in bed, his heartbeat rushing, his breathing ragged, and vision blurred. While he’s still grasping for the remnants of his dream, he sneaks his hand into his breeches, wishing he could rip her dress off and sheath himself inside her, spread her on his bed, and drink every salacious sound she makes... It only takes him a few strokes to spill over his fingers; he can’t remember if he’s ever reached his peak so fast.

And only then, as he comes down from his high, it hits him, like lightning in the dark — in spite of her remarks, her audacity, her dresses, and every cruel adjective he’s found for her, he’s never wanted anyone so badly. Aemond sits up abruptly, his sleep gone, giving way to stubbornness that comes hand in hand with reticence. He persuades himself that he’ll suppress this — the spark, the pleasure that he craves, and he won’t be a slave to his desires.

He’ll rid himself of feelings, of this lust. Inevitably it will wane.

>>> It doesn’t.

Desire is a guest that never leaves, unwanted but demanding space, attention, time. It slips into his thoughts the moment he wakes up, it whispers in his ears, never giving up, it’s layered in between his clothes and his skin. He hides it well from everyone; it lodges deeper into him.

Desire is a cherry in her mouth, each fruit she bites in, savors, drinks the juice from. He doesn’t want to watch — he can’t take his eye off her, caught in his fervor like in undertow, the flavor of her lips the only one he truly yearns for.

Desire bruises more than does a hit, cuts deeper than a blade, and there’s no weapon he can fight it off with. His training brings him no relief, and he can’t sweat it out or wash it off him, and even while he soaking in a bath, it feels like longing only rises back with steam.

Desire waits for him at night, stands by his bed, slides right under the covers with him. He dreams of her, and in those dreams, her body sings under his every touch, trembles from his praise, his hands and mouth paint her with marks and kisses. He wakes up with his chest aflame and out of breath, and then it takes all of his willpower not to crawl to her.

It staggering how much he really wants her, and he hates himself for it.

>>> It’s been three weeks and they have barely shared a word. He does his best to cut down their encounters and avoid her, he doesn’t argue and takes no offense, he hopes that if he pulls back just enough she will give up and let him be.

Aemond spends his evenings in the study, his table piled with books, and for a couple of hours, it does help to take his mind off things. The night already steals in while he’s searching through the shelves for scrolls, too caught up in the process to pick up the creaking of his door.

Her gaze nearly scalds him. He only looks up out of surprise — and then he freezes at the spot, his heart a stone that plummets to his stomach.

Out of everything she’s worn, this dress might be the one to bring him to his knees — the cutting out the front so low, his eye falls in the hollow between her breasts; he envies fervently the golden chain that rests there. He takes in her whole body, bare arms, and flaunting forms, all clad in deep dark green. He’s never seen her pick that color (and he can’t help but think she put it on for him).

He’s brought back from his stupor when their eyes meet — and startled by the determination in her gaze.

“Ser Criston told me that you missed your training,” she stately starts walking toward him, “Quite a few times this week.”

“I found myself preoccupied with other things,” he clears his throat and clasps his hands behind his back, the scrolls forgotten.

“With reading, I assume?” she almost sounds aggrieved (he wants to ask what else she’d rather have him do) but then her tone gets jaunty. “Would you mind if I join?”

“Actually, I would,” Aemond takes his eye off her, his coldness feigned. “I’d like to avoid distractions.”

And more than anything, he would like for her to leave; she’s not the one to give up so easily. “Maybe we can learn some things together?” she nonchalantly insists, and that ambiguity — deliberate or not — leaves his face suffused with pink.

“I highly doubt you take interest in the things I study,” he manages, his crudeness biting his own tongue.

She only sneers, already nearing his table. “You surely rush to judgment.”

“And I am never wrong.” (Although he’s been wrong once before.)

“That’s very humble of you.” (And she’s tenacious with her intent to prove him wrong again.)

“I am surprised you know that word,” he replies too hastily — and instantly regrets his outburst.

And his attempts to get away from her could’ve been valiant, but only left him feeling like a coward.

She’s got enough courage to spare. “Oh, my apologies, did I strike a nerve?” her hip grazes a stack of books. “You sound so displeased with my behavior,” she puts her hands right on his table, her cleavage in full view.

“You interrupted my studies,” he’s looking only at her face.

“Just this one time,” she clears up, her sly smile is a dare, “Sounds like you have quite a few complaints.”

Damned be her dress and the day he laid his eye on her. “It’s clear as day that we have nothing in common,” he hisses, her persistence molding his anger. “From your bawdy humor to your reckless behavior and your...,” he struggles to push the word through his mouth, “vulgar dresses — everything suggests that we will never make a good couple.”

He catches a gleam in her gaze but it’s not threatening nor hurt — and when the corners of her mouth curl up, her face expression actually looks amused. “I didn’t realize my presence tormented you that much,” she crosses arms over her chest, her hands under her breasts; he looks away that very instant. “So will it please you if I take my vulgar dresses and go back home and leave you be?”

He wants to say it will — he’s thought of it for days — but now he isn’t sure. The dreams he has of her will hardly be enough as every image he collected has got nothing on the real form.

“Is there anything that does?” she asks him suddenly and takes a step in his direction, and then another one.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s backed against the wall. The air in the room heats up, and Aemond moves back to his table, fingers holding to its edge to find some balance. “...Does what?”

“Please you,” she swiftly clarifies, now standing at arm’s length.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” he wants to glance away and yet, his eye is drawn to her.

“I am inclined to disagree,” her lips stretch into a smile. “Shouldn’t a wife know how to make her husband feel good?”

“We are not married yet,” he tries to argue weakly.

“I’d like to learn beforehand,” but her assertiveness works quicker than his doubts.

The time is still, and seconds drag like hours. His heart leaps at the thought of being all alone with her, his concentration crumbling, his self-restraint already hanging by a thread.

“The way you look at me suggests you aren’t averse to the idea,” she tells him in a low voice, her eyes two glowing embers. Aemond gulps, she deftly rounds the table. “You act so cold and so collected,” she muses, coming closer, and he helplessly steps back. “But I am yet to meet a man who would deny himself the pleasure of laying with a woman,” her voice is warm and warming; his legs bump into the chair, prompting him to sit.

He hesitates for barely a moment but his quick reaction fails him because the next thing he knows, she’s standing next to him, her golden chain casting a blinding glint — he blinks — and then she’s straddling him, her thighs on either side of his.

Aemond’s mouth falls slack as he becomes aware: to lift her he will have to touch her. He glances down at her legs that sneaked out through the long slits of her dress, all bare to the very hips before him.

“I wonder if you are too spoiled by the attention of the ladies? Mayhaps you’ve got so satiated, the intimacy doesn’t bring you any joy,” she runs her fingers up his chest.

He only finds it in himself to shake his head. She isn’t satisfied with that reaction. “Or do you simply find it boring and have a taste for something else?”

Objection bubbles in his throat but he gets no chance to voice it — he barely registers a clinking sound before he feels cold steel pressed under his chin, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of his own dagger. He meant to leave it at the training yard but it completely slipped his mind.

“Does this work better? I’ve heard that you Targaryens have peculiar tastes,” her other hand lands on his shoulder, his chest is stirring with emotions he can’t read.

“That’s not— No,” he mumbles, his voice raw, the weight and feeling of her body overwhelming.

She cocks her brow at him in disbelief. “No? So it’s just plain old satiation then?” she makes no attempt to press the blade but her questions do get pushy. “Must be so hard when women throw themselves at you ever since you were... What was it, ten? Twelve years of age?”

He would expect her to sound teasing — instead, he hears disappointment. That’s the reaction he is used to getting.

“My brother took me to a pleasure house when I was ten-and-three. He said it’s time to get it wet,” he forces out, “And it was...,” awful and humiliating, something he wishes to forget, “...Not what you are describing.”

Her face expression changes — first surprised, then splashed with sadness, and her every feature softens. Aemond sees her opening her mouth to speak but he averts his gaze, abasement scrabbling at him. His eye falls closed, and he keeps thinking that now she will get up and leave, and there won’t be any wedding, and he’s got no reason to get so overly upset already, and —

she sheathes his dagger without a word, the unexpected movement making him breathe out.

And then she dips her head down, and her lips fall on his jaw. Aemond inhales sharply. Her mouth feels softer than it was in all his dreams, and she plants kisses down his throat, moving to the part of it the blade was pressed to. He doesn’t know where to put his hands while hers lock nimbly around his neck.

She pulls back slowly, and he dares to look at her again, trying to catch the merest shadow of pretense but there is none.

“I am truly sorry that you had to go through that,” she tells him quietly. “Have you tried some more since then?”

“I did,” his answer comes off hurried, blank, “I... I am aware of how the act is done.”

“How the act is done? Aemond, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all,” she pouts, then gently caresses his face, her voice a tender whisper when she adds, “But it should be.”

He stiffens, waiting for the discomfort to wake up, for the aversion to coil his guts, to trigger the jarring need to move away. None of that happens. Instead, he feels her fingers running through his hair, a calming motion bringing only comfort, her every touch relieving tightness in his chest.

“You seem too tense... We have to work on that,” she joyfully murmurs. “Unless, of course, my worry causes you distress,” her fingers stop, “Do you want me to leave, my prince?”

“No,” he rasps, he almost pleads, “D-don’t.”

She hums with satisfaction, bringing her hands down to unclasp his leather doublet, knowing she won’t meet any resistance. He should resent her for this but he doesn’t (he didn’t and he won’t). The air lays cold over his shirt, and Aemond shivers; she moves her fingers down his firm chest with an unspoken admiration.

“Tell me how it usually goes,” she inquires, one of her hands finding its way back to his silver locks. “Do you find pleasure in undressing them?”

Her warmth envelopes him, scented with cinnamon and peaches. “They come without much clothes,” Aemond blurts out, earning another hum from her.

“And what about you?” she glances curiously at him.

“I don’t... I don’t like them touching me,” he timidly avows, and saying it to her does bring somewhat of a relief.

With both of her hands, she cradles his face, thumbs gently contouring his cheeks — he all but melts into her palms. “And yet you are so responsive to the touch,” her voice praises, “So pretty.”

She leans in again, leaving a kiss at the hollow of his throat — and then her mouth travels up, ardent and steady, and he squirms in place. Not out of discomfort.

“You are not supposed to rush it if you want it to feel good,” she whispers in his ear and moves back to catch his gaze. “You never rush into fighting so why love making should be any different?”

Astonishment brightens his face, and she chuckles lightly. “I must confess, I did enjoy watching you train, even though you never noticed. The way you move and twirl your sword,” she’s recollecting breathy, “You are so lithe and fast and so resistant... An infatuating sight.”

She holds his gaze and lifts her hand — he follows it, unblinking, until it finds one of the straps — she hooks it with her fingers. “Fairly soon it made me wonder how would your hands feel... on me,” his heart jolts at her words.

Slowly, she moves the strap aside, baring her breast for him; Aemond’s breathing hitches. She takes his hand in hers, planting a kiss over his knuckles — and then lets his fingers graze her naked skin.

“It was so cruel of you to rob me of my pleasure,” she laments, but he can barely hear a thing, his eye wide as he fixes on the soft swell of her breast, on how her nipple peaks so eagerly under his touch.

She guides his hand over her chest, down to her ribs and waist, letting him brush her every curve, placing his fingers firmly on her hip. And then she reaches for his other hand and lowers the other strap; his body trembles. The layers of his reticence are all peeled at once, leaving his desire raw and undisguised, unshackled. He’s drawn to fondle, clutch at her plump breasts but her grip is tight and taunting, not letting his fingers roam free.

Still, when both his hands sink into her hips, he realizes that he’s getting harder by the second.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her. With a controlled, torturously slow move she drags her clothed core over his straining cock. His mouth stays closed but there’s a sound — a muffled moan caught in his throat.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” she teases, lightly tugging on his hair, her lips reaching the column of his neck. “With how much you read, I hoped you’d be more generous with words,” each of her kisses weightless like a drop of rain but then her mouth finds a spot below his ear and suckles at it, pulling a whimper from his chest.

He thinks he should... his mind goes blank after another movement of her hips, and she picks up the pace, merciless and sensuous. He tries biting down his moans but only hurts his mouth. She notices, her rapt eyes on him, and puts her finger on his lower lip:

“Please, don’t be shy with me,” she coos, her gentle touch soothing his bitten flesh, “Our desires coincide,” she earnestly affirms him — and the spark erupts and drags him into pure bliss.

He feels that his arousal leaks, his breeches way too tight to hide it, his fingers dig into her supple skin, but she gives no complaints. He watches breathlessly through his hooded eyelid as she grinds against him, then looks over her bouncing breasts, her nipples pebbled, and the pressure curls somewhere down his spine. She peppers him with kisses — the angles of his face, neck, everything that she can reach, except for his desirous mouth. And yet the softness of her lips and hands, her skin that’s draped with the redolent scent, the rhythm of her hips all bring him closer to the edge.

Her forehead is pressed to his, their lips an inch away but never fully touching. “Let go for me,” she says against his mouth, “My handsome, fierce dragon.”

That does it for him. He harshly presses her to him, then shudders with a strangled moan and comes undone, his eye squeezed shut as her name quivers in his mouth. The pleasure whirls him in and leaves him drained and stunned, a little bit light-headed.

It takes Aemond a minute to recover before he finds her gaze again — and in another minute he discerns her shallow breaths, her parted lips, brows slightly furrowed. He wants to ask her if she reached her peak, if he can help her with it —

but she pulls back.

She stands up and only briefly grabs his shoulder, steadying herself, then promptly puts the straps back on, fixing her dress. He wants to lend a hand but she moves it away, leaning in to lightly caress his face. “No, you don’t get to have me yet. I want you to admit it first, to say that you want me,” her words are laced with dignity but cooling to his mind.

She steps back, cruelly fast, the only consolation is her naughty tone. “Until then, I have to satisfy myself some other way. But I will think of you while doing it, my dear prince,” she promises, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and then walks out without looking back.

The silence feels unwelcome in the room and hangs over the ceiling like a cloud, but Aemond he is too dazed to move, spent and perplexed to wrap his head around it.

Desire, it seems, has come to stay.

But it’s not the only thing he’s feeling.

✧... YES, there will be a second part, it’s already in the works! ✧ and yes, I didn’t bother to rename Pedro’s character 'cause I adore Oberyn sue me

✧ just to clarify, I usually age Aemond up to 20 (or however old Ewan looks to you ;) ✧ I got inspired after watching the video for ROSALÍA’s “La Fama” (give it a watch, she is soooo 🥵) but I only found it because of this gorgeous gifset so shout-out to OP for giving me inspiration

✧ my recent fic (couples who kill together, stay together 🔥) ✧ my masterlist

thank you @amiraisgoingthruit for letting me tag you in every silly story of mine, hope you’ll like this one (if anyone else wants to be tagged, don’t be shy)

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

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thehighladywrites · 7 months

Text

I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater…

Pairing: azriel x reader, the ic, lucien and elain, and helion mentioned

Summary: angst, no happy ending for him, a bit ooc azriel bc he’s an absolute ass in this. also I can’t make elain the villain bc I love her. bittersweet ending, cassian and feyre being the most wonderul people ever. some swearing, like a tiiiiiny nsfw scene, like it barely counts, but i’ll warn you anyways.

Author’s note: yeah, this was inspired by heather, so definitely listen to it while reading💔 i just think this was the perfect day👀 never again am i writing angst, plus i might have been a bit dramatic when said this was gut-wrenching, i don’t think this was very angsty, just a bit tragic. but i hate angst so any angst is gut-wrenching in my eyes🤷🏽‍♀️ also there’s no revenge better than rising above…

Word count: 6,5 k words

If you see any grammar errors or spelling mistakes, no you didn’t ❤️

"Y/n, I practically hear your teeth chattering. Here, wear this." Azriel removed his sweater, passing it to you with a hint of concern in his eyes. You bit the inside of your lip to keep from smiling, he was always so thoughtful and observant. It was on of the reasons you fell in love with him.

"It's okay, Az, you'll freeze." You attempted to return the warm clothes, but he firmly pushed them back, fixing you with a stare that left no argument.

"I won't freeze. You know I'm used to this weather. Bet you miss your old home right about now." He alluded to your home court, The Day Court where the sun always shines, and standing on the balcony on a crisp December morning doesn't make your fingers feel like they'll fall off.

You arrived in Velaris to assist with document translations, given your expertise. Your services were in high demand across various courts. And initially, a month-long stay extended to two, then three. Eventually, enchanted by Velaris and its people, you asked Helion if you could make it your permanent home. The support of your friends added to the whole experience.

You slid into Azriel's warm sweater, feeling its comforting embrace. The fabric whispered tales of comfort and safety, an unspoken promise against the biting cold. As you adjusted to the newfound warmth, your heart felt a different heat—one that spoke against the unspoken feelings you had towards him. The subtle scent of his cologne lingered, intertwining with the softness of the fabric, creating a scent that seemed to make your heart flutter twice as hard. In that moment, you couldn't help but let the warmth of the sweater mirror the warmth within you.

“ Feel better?” You nodded, avoiding his eyes in fear that he’d be able to see the emotions portrayed on your face.

“ Thanks, Az. For the sweater and all. It’s really warm.”

The corner of his lips twitched as his eyes remained on you, “Keep it. It looks better on you than it ever did me anyways.”

He grabbed your hand before you could respond and walked back in, closing the balcony doors. Stuck between friends and something more, you felt lost. Wanting to confess your feelings to Azriel but scared it could mess things up, you were torn. The shared laughs felt like good friends, but those lingering looks sparked a longing for more. Balancing this act, you wrestled with risking the friendship for a shot at something deeper. In the middle of all this, you were standing there, not sure which way to go.

As you hesitated walking further with him, Azriel noticed you stopped walking and furrowed his brow. "Hey, what's up?" he asked, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

You wanted to tell Azriel how you felt, but doubts held you back. As you looked at him, the sweater felt heavy with unsaid words. You wondered if it's better to say what's on your mind or keep it to yourself. Fear answered for you as you shook your head and gave him a reassuring smile.

——————

Later that day, during dinner, Azriel asked you to meet him in the upstairs library while your friends were distracted, to which you accepted, head spinning at the possibilities.

In the quiet sanctuary of the library, the air thick with unreadable energy, Azriel's eyes met yours. Without a word, he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours, a silent acceptance of the feelings that had lingered in the unspoken spaces between you. The unexpected kiss marked a sweet transition between friendship and the uncharted territory of something more.

——————

For over a year, you and Azriel kept things under wraps, not really calling it a relationship. It was a secret, a kind of unspoken understanding. The stolen moments and shared looks formed the backbone of whatever it was between you. You regularly fell in each other’s beds and spent intimate moments together. There was however one specific night you’d always cherish.

You were in his bed, cuddling after he gave you yet another amazing time. Your legs were h thrown over his hips as you occasionally kissed his plushy lips. He held you tighter and ran his hand under your sweater. His eyes were lidded as he whispered intimately,

“ This sweater looks so fucking good on you, please never take it off. I’ve never given anything to another woman, but there’s something special about you. I love it when you wear it, like a reminder that you’re mine. No one else will wear it.” He pulled you closer and kissed your neck and collarbones. His hot breath made yours hitch as he fondled with your stiffened nipples.

Your attempt to come up with a response faltered as he brushed over another sensitive area, prompting a moan to escape your lips.

————————————

But as time passed, the lack of clarity started to wear on you. The hidden nature of it all was both a source of comfort and frustration. You yearned for more, a real relationship, a label to put on what you had with Azriel.

But with the war and Feyre's sisters entering the scene, everything got complicated. Your attention got scattered, and the chaos made the unspoken thing with Azriel less of a priority for a while.

————————————

After the traumatic and bloody war, you tried to seek Azriel for comfort, but he busied himself with Elain. His focus seemed to be on her, making it hard to find a moment to reconnect. The situation left you feeling unsure about where things stood between you two.

As the days went by, you noticed Elain entering Azriel's world completely, capturing his attention in a way that left you filled with jealousy and pit growing in your stomach. Her presence became a subtle intrusion, and the shared moments that were once exclusively yours now seemed to be scattered between you and her. The laughter and conversations, once intimate, now carried a different tone, a rushed tone to hurry away to Elain. A pang of jealousy crept into your heart, and the undefined nature of your connection with Azriel began to feel more fragile. The fear of losing him to someone else tugged at your emotions, leaving you questioning the unspoken relationship you had shared for so long.

You couldn’t even blame him. Elain was a sight for sore eyes, a beautiful girl with an even more beautiful soul. She had only treated you with kindness, giving you thoughtfull Solstice gifts and advice when needed.

You couldn’t justifiably be mad at her.

You’d pick her over you too.

—————————

Maybe you should just face your problems head on and ask him for some advice to break the newfound ice. His grunts were heard as he punched cassians face, getting some blood on his knuckles. Approaching him in the training pit, you hoped he wouldn’t dismiss you. “ Hey, Az, can we talk?”

Looking at you with an unreadable expression, he sharply replied, “Yeah, sure, quick. What's up?”

You tentatively asked, noticing his mood, “ Um, you wanna go for a walk? I haven’t seen you for a while. Also, we’re supposed to meet tonight, are you still up for it?”

He glanced around, eyes searching for an out, “Can it wait? I've got something I need to take care of.”

You felt dismissed as he didn’t even address what you mentioned and used whatever power you had left and asked, “ I just thought-“

"Look, I'll catch up with you later, alright? But yeah, I guess i’ll meet you tonight." After Azriel quickly walked off, you felt a sting from his unintentional rudeness. He had been acting like this for a while now and they way he hurriedly accepted your offer was making you feel like a second choice. But why? You did want to meet him and he did say yes, so why in the mother’s name did this feel so…?

Trying to shake it off, you found a quiet spot to gather your thoughts. Doubts crept in, making you wonder if his abrupt exit meant something more. Left alone with unanswered questions, you thought about having a straightforward talk about where you stand in his life.

“Hey, you okay? What was that about?” Cassian’s tone was so gentle and inviting and it almost made you spill everything right there, but he already had his own issues and problems with Nesta so you didn’t want to burden him further.

"It was nothing. I, uh, I'll see you later, Cas." You hastily departed, your eyes stinging with impending tears.

————————————

He was late. Again. This had happened seceral times before and despite agreeing to see him tonight, his prolonged absence weighed on you. Feeling a bit pathetic, you rose from your armchair and slipped under the covers, opting for a deep, dreamless sleep.

————————————

As war flashbacks filled your mind, and a suffocating panic took hold in the middle of the night, leaving you sweating. You threw of your sheets, gasping as you made your way to door. Desperate, you rushed to find Azriel, your heart beating louder than the echoing footsteps in the quiet hallways. You hoped to find comfort, a break from your horrors, as you hurried along.

Turning a corner, the world shattered around you. Azriel and Elain stood in an embrace, lost in a kiss that felt like a thousand daggers piercing your chest. The air in your lungs disappeared , replaced by a crushing weight that threatened to swallow you whole. Time was lost as you grappled with the horrible realization that the sanctuary you sought was crumbling before your eyes.

Your Azriel wasn’t yours anymore.

Your Azriel wasn’t ever truly yours, a taunting voice spewed in your head

Quietly, your broken heart mirrored the shattered moonlight, pain etched into you, stranded in heartbreak's silent hallway where quiet screamed louder than war's echoes.

He had chosen to be with Elain even though he promised you he’d see you.

———————————

Your heart was in your throat as you went downstairs for breakfast. The memory of Azriel shoving his tounge down Elains throat was still so fresh and it made something in you ache.

The dining room buzzed with the voices of friends and family as you dropped into a chair between Feyre and Lucien, saving space for more seats in front of you. Glancing to the right from your plate, you noticed Lucien, as he cut into his eggs. Oddly, you hadn't known he was back, despite being good friends. Ever since he learned about his father, he'd been curious about your old home in the day court, where his father ruled. You two became fast friends, and you promised to take him on an exclusive trip there anytime he wanted.

“ Hey, Lucien. How was your trip and when did you come back, I didn’t hear you enter yesterday.”

Yeah because you probably cried yourself to sleep, maybe that’s why.

He flashed his charming smile, tilting his head with playful eyes. "Missed me, Y/n?" he teased, laughing as you playfully punched his arm. Only he would crack jokes so early in the morning.

Deciding to tease him back, you couldn't resist digging into the details of his trip to the continent. You never got tired of his adventures, loving how he narrated them with grace and humor, making you feel like you were right there with him.

"Yeah, so what if I missed you? I enjoy having you around, Luc. But seriously, spill. Did you take down any monsters? Save any damsels in distress?"

Lucien chuckled, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I did fight off a swarm of overeager pigeons. Does that count as saving the day or just a triumph against feathery creatures?" he quipped, his laughter infectious.

You howled at the thought of a flock of birds surrounding your friend, pecking at him while he irritatingly tries to remove them.

The room fell silent as Azriel walked in with Elain, and your laughter faded.

A mix of hot and cold flashes hit you as you saw Elain wearing your sweater.

The sweater Azriel gave you a year ago—the one that meant a lot to you.

The one you had grown to love and was a reminder of what could be.

The one that cemented your feelings for him.

He gave it to Elain.

The one he was kissing last night.

The one he swapped you with and then got irritated when you tried to approach him.

The one who was mated to the seething male next to you.

The weight of everyone's stares bore down on you as Elain and Azriel took their seats in front of you and Lucien. Feyre and Cassian's eyes felt like lasers on the side of your head as you couldn't look away from your sweater now worn by Elain. Confusion gnawed at you – you'd tossed it into the laundry basket, yet there she was, flaunting it. The fact that Azriel didn't seem to care only added to the bewilderment, even when he knew what it meant to you. Irritation sparked in you as you got ready to chew him out, because who the hell wears something that doesn’t belong to them. And maybe Elain didn’t know but Azriel sure as hell did and you had enough of whatever bullshit this was. But before you were able to speak up, Feyre beat you to it.

“Elain, where did you get that sweater? I’m pretty sure it’s y/n’s.” Everyone looked back at Elain as red colored her cheeks, she meekly looked at you as she sputtered her explanation.

“ I hope it’s okay y/n, I didn’t know it was yours. I was in the laundry room with Azriel and I got… Well I, I um, got dirty, so he handed me this shirt and told me it was okay but I should’ve asked. Do you want it back?”

Numbness was all you could describe what you felt like. There was no way to miss the insinuation. They fucked and he gave her your sweater to wear after. And she didn’t even know it was yours, so you didn’t blame her. You found a new level of respect for Lucien, because you weren’t even mated to Azriel and you felt all this pain. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt.

Not having the energy for this you gave her a sweet smile and said something that made Azriel’s eyes stay on you the rest of the meal.

“No worries, Elain. The shirt means nothing to me. Keep it. It looks better on you than it ever did on me, anyway.”

You casually picked up your fork, trying to eat away the tension that lingered in the air. Throughout the meal, Lucien remained tense next to you, his mate leaning against the shadowsinger, his arm around her. The gesture practically shouting that he didn't care about Elain's mate sitting across from him, much to Rhysand's dismay.

"Lucien, I'm full. Do you want to accompany me to town? There are a few things I need to get, and I could use some help carrying them." You extended your hand, and he took it, ever the gentleman, placing it so you held onto his arm with a smile.

————————————

Reaching the pathway to the town square, the open nature felt like a breath of fresh air. Despite you and Lucien being able to winnow, a walk through the cold December morning seemed necessary to clear your head. Glancing at Lucien, you sensed a shared need for clarity. Unable to contain it any longer, you decided to spill everything, the weight of unspoken words demanding release.

“I’ll be honest, I suspected something along those lines. I mean you weren’t being subtle about it. But the sweater threw me off.”

“Oh, I suppose our subtlety is not relevant anymore. Lucien, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you and hold you in high regard. Feel free to share anything; I'm here to listen. I can't even fathom how hard it must be when you're mated.”

His sad laughter echoed, tugging at your heartstrings, confirming that it wasn't an easy situation. As he opened up, every word he shared made perfect sense, resonating with what you were feeling.

After wandering around The Rainbow, sipping hot chocolates, and sharing your thoughts, you headed home. However, upon your return to The House, you were greeted by a pacing and visibly upset Azriel. Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked at Lucien who looked just as confused as you. Azriels pacing came to a halt as he quickly made his way over to you.

“ Where have you been? I looked for you everywhere. Why where you out with him?” Hot fury coarsed through your veins as you snapped at his tone. Just who the hell did he think he was?

“Where I am and who I'm with isn't your concern. Now excuse me, I'm going to my room. Lucien, I'll see you around. Thank you for your help.” You stood on your toes, giving Lucien a kiss on the cheek, and then briskly walked to your room, leaving Azriel with his thoughts. Though he certainly didn’t think very long as his footsteps inched closer behind you.

Azriel stood before you with a tense expression. “Why were you with Lucien?” he demanded, his eyes searching for answers.

As much as you missed him and ached for him, there wasn’t a single planet where you’d let him disrespect you and then demand answers like some jealous boyfriend. Anger took over as you stood tall and laid everything for him.

“Listen, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but you can’t talk to me like that. Lucien is a good male, you should know, your fucking his mate and he hasn’t murdered you yet.”

His face was back to it’s neutral state, the state of the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court. He stepped closer, jaw tight as he spewed words that made your blood boil.

“I don’t want to see you around Lucien again. I don’t care that you’re friends because it looks like you want to fuck him. You belong to me and I don’t share.”

The possessiveness normally would’ve turned you on as it once did when a male tried to hit on you a few months ago. But this just made you want to punch him clean across his face.

“Azriel, I’m not sure you’re hearing me. I may see whoever I want because you’re not my father or mate or anything. And I’m not a thing, I do not belong to you so I will do whatever pleases me.” You stepped closer, interrupting whatever he was about to say.

“Unless you’re actually disturbed, then you’re capable of understanding that you’ve chosen Elain, you’ve neglected me and have chosen her. I don’t blame you, the heart wants what it wants. But atleast grow a pair and say it to my fucking face. How dare you come to me and demand I stop seeing my friend?”

“ Y/n, let me just-”

“ No, i’m saying what I’m going to say then me and you never have to talk unless it’s absolutely necessary.” The last bit of anger you had, fired up the question you had been asking yourself for a while.

“Why did you give her my sweater when you said you’d never give it to anyone. Why would you ever give her what’s mine? From my laundry basket? Are you truly heartless or just plain stupid? And why do you care about what im doing? You’ve made it clear we’re over.” You swallowed back your tears, determination winning over the burning behind your eyes, no fucking way would you cry in front of him.

His words devoid of any sense of emotion rattled you. He ignored everything you said as he gave his stupid answer.

“First of all, it’s just polyester. You’re acting like a child over a shirt. And you’re my mate, so I think I get some say in who you see.” As if his words triggered something, an obnoxious golden thread snapped itse in your chest. The weight of it heavy with sadness and betrayal.

He looked bored and uninterested as he stared you down. “I’ve always wanted a mated and when you first arrived, the bond snapped into place, hence why I fucked you for over a year. And I almost told you about it but then Elain came along and I realized I love her more than I want a mate. You know, The Mother is cruel, she should’ve just made me and her mates so we could’ve skipped this ugly little moment. Oh well-”

A grunt escapes as he staggered back from your punch. That arrogant, hypocritical piece of shit knew you were his mate, he knew it every single time he bedded you, he knew it when you cried and laughed, he knew it when you told him how much you wanted one.

He knew and he didn’t care.

A whirlwind of emotions hit you as the bond intensified. A headache crept in as you turned away and left in silence, your head filling with questions.

How could you face him without the urge to punch again? Did Elain know all this? Did anyone? How could you stay here without wanting to kill him? And why was your face wet?

You halted, a trembling hand reaching for your face. Tears flowed, and a humorless, empty laugh escaped you. You hurried back to your room, sobs breaking through. Collapsing onto the bed, waves of sadness, heartbreak, and betrayal overwhelmed you.

————————————

You stayed in your room, wallowing in self-pity for the next few days without eating or seeing anyone. The House put several plates of food on the table next to you but you just felt nauseous. Your friends had reached out and tried to talk to you only to be met with your silence, it speaking loud enough for them to understand you didn’t want to see anyone.

A knock made you snap your head up as the person persisted. Irritation sparked in you as the knocks kept up. Letting out a sound of annoyance you got up, letting your legs get adjusted from the days of not using them, before strutting over and throwing the door open only to be met with by Cassian and Feyre.

“ Oh, what are you doing here, I think I’ve made myself very clear. I’m really not inte the mood for this.” You sensed an intervention and there couldn’t possibly be a worse time. They ignored you, much to your dismay, and just stepped in and plopped down on one of the plush sofas that decorated your room.

“ Y/n, we haven’t seen you for almost a week. I’ve accepted you don’t want to see anyone but i’m starting to get really worried. Please know that whatever’s burdening you doesn’t have to weigh on your shoulders alone. We’re here for you and if you don’t want to talk to us then maybe Azriel? I know you like each other and have some connection.” Your stomach dropped when she mentioned his name.

"No, absolutely not Azriel. I never want to see that lying son of a bitch ever." They appeared alarmed and confused since you always spoke highly of him. Feyre and Cassian were the only ones aware of the true nature of your relationship with him. They had supported you, and were the only ones shocked about the sweater Elain wore, knowing its significance to you.

"What do you mean? What did he do?" They rose to give you a hug, noticing your eyes glossing over. Sitting on either side of you, they held you as you poured out the details. In the safety of your friends’ embrace, you told the painful details of Azriel's betrayal. The room echoed with the weight of your emotions as they listened, offering comfort and understanding.

"I feel so stupid. I know he's my mate, but I still feel betrayed. He made it clear we were just sleeping together, but there were so many mixed signals, and I just... I don't know. I have no anger left; I honestly don't care anymore. And I know it's not Elain's fault because she doesn't know we're mates, but I'm afraid I'll hurt her if I see her near Azriel. Gods, I really admire Lucien. I wonder how he's gone this long without breaking down." You shook your head as you looked to them. Their expression was laced with sadness and anger towards the spymaster.

“ I’ll kick his ass today at training, I’m so sorry honey.” Cassian was filled with conflict and anger at his dear friend being put through this. And Feyre didn’t look better as she glared at the door as if Azriel might suddenly appear. They were finally both mated and could imagine the pain of their mate doing something like this.

“ Y/n, do you want to come with me and stay at the River House? Maybe some time away from him will do you good. Lucien is also staying there and he has been down lately too. I’ve talked to him and your situations are very similar. Maybe you should talk to him.” Feyre held your hand, her voice gentle as she gave you a smile when you nodded, accepting the offer.

Cassian walked over to your closet and packed you a bag of clothes while Feyre led you to your vanity and brushed through your hair. She pulled it into one of the simpler styles you usually went for. You went onto the bathroom and took a quick shower. Cassian knocked softly and handed you a change of clothes. You felt an overwhelming gratitude for your friends caring nature as tears welled up in your eyes. They approached with laughter, and it sparked a genuine smile from you. Gods, you loved your friends.

—————————

Azriel flew back to The House after spending the day with Elain and dropping her off outside the River House. Though he loved Elain, she hadn’t reciprocated his feelings and it grated his nerves. He threw away a perfectly good mate. She should be loving him back too. As he entered The House, the unusual silence struck him. Cassian and Nesta’s typical noise was absent, and the absence of any sound from you heightened his worry. Azriel anxiously opened doors and searched every corner, looking for any sign of anyone.

He remembered that it was Sunday, the day of their usual family dinner. He let out a sigh of relief and changed before flying to the estate.

————————————

Your wineglass paused mid-air as Azriel walked in, placing a kiss on Elain's shoulder. She glanced at Lucien, subtly distancing herself. Despite her evident discomfort, Azriel nonchalantly put his arm around her. You felt bad for Elain. Maybe she wasn’t feeling Azriel anymore but didn’t have the heart to tell him.

A snarl ripped you from your thoughts as Lucien stood up looking murderous. Elain looked up at him with a hint of relief as Azriel simply pulled her closer and stared at him, face unreadable.

“Get your arm off her before I kill you.” Luciens voice came out gritted and you instinctively moved away a bit, not daring to get too close to the seething male witnessing his mate feel uncomfortable. Lucien was a levelheaded male and it took a lot for him to get really angry, so anyone with half a brain knew not to tread to closely. Rhysand next to him, stood up aswell, sensing that there probably would be a fight, ready to intervene.

“You’re going to kill me? I’d like to see you try.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because Elain frowned and pushed his arm away, making her way over to Lucien, calming him down by grabbing his hand shyly. He still held eye contact with Azriel, slightly smiling as Azriel grew angry.

“Don’t lay your hands on her again. If i ever see you making her uncomfortable, I’ll hang you with your own insides.” Elain looked at him with wide eyes and dragged him further down the table.

“Okay, what the actual fuck? What is going on and why are you looking at y/n like that?” Rhysand’s voice broke whatever trance was going on. Your interest peaked as your eyes slid over to Azriel’s only to find them filled with his usual boredom mixed with anger.

You let out a laugh, not being able to stop as you thought about how ridiculous he was being.

“ Well, let’s see. Azriel is my mate and he kept it hidden from me since the day I met him. Oh, and we fucked around for a year or so before he became a dick and started ignoring me, stopped coming to our planned meetings and I finally understood it was because of Elain. But I don’t blame her, I blame him. Hmm… what else? Right! He knew about us being mated and wished he was mated to her instead, and look how that turned out. The one you left me for doesn’t even want you anymore Azriel, how does that make you feel, mate?”

You bit out the last words with poison as you gave him a half smirk. Elain approached you, as everyone soaked up the information. She held your hands in her shaking ones and looked at you with a pained expression.

“ Y/n, please believe me, I didn’t know you two were seeing each other, let alone were mates. He told me you were just friends and nothing more. Had I known, I wouldn’t have ever been with him. And if i’m honest I thought i wanted to be with him, but I want to get to know my mate.” Before she could ramble on you pulled her into a hug, feeling bad for her. She hadn’t know and still apologized.

“Elain, I assure you, I don't hold any blame towards you. I'm happy you want to get to know Lucien. Trust me, he's genuinely funny and nice when he's not being a sarcastic ass.” Laughter filled the air as you and Elain shared a moment, lightening the mood.

You let her go as she got closer to Lucien. No matter how much you wanted to seek your mate out for comfort, you couldn’t let it happen. You knew there was only one thing left.

“ Azriel, I reject the bond. I don’t know how I can ever be with you after this. Not only did you lie to me, you lied to everyone. I’m never going to trust you completely and I think we need to work on ourselves. But it won’t be with each other.” With that you turned on your heel and left for your room, leaving behind a shattered bond and pleading a mate.

———————————————

Azriel's three-month-long begging for a second chance haunted you, likely triggered by witnessing Elain and Lucien's kiss in the courtyard. While you were happy for them, a lingering sadness stayed you, realizing you would never experience a shared bond. Azriel had robbed you of the beauty of a mating bond, and forgiveness felt out of the question. Suffocated by him, you made your way to Feyre and Rhysand's office, ready to ask the dreaded question that had lingered within you for a while.

“ Come in!” Feyre’s gentle voice probed you to open the door as you slithered in. They both looked at you with caution. After breaking the bond, you had been bedridden for three weeks. The physical and mental toll it took on you was overwhelming and some days you questioned your decision. But then you remembered what led you here and just powered through.

“ Guys, I promise I feel much better, so please no more mother-henning. Especially you Rhys.” Feyre let out an amused giggle as Rhys just narrowed his eyes in mock irritation. The weight of what you had to say hung heavy on your shoulders, but you knew they'd support you. Opting for honesty, you decided to rip off the bandaid.

“ I want to move back to the Day Court. I love it here but I miss my home, my siblings, my parents, my friends. I wasn’t supposed to stay this long and even though I love velaris, I can’t live here so close to… him. Not only that but I’ve been sending letters to Helion and he is very eager to meet Lucien and has asked me to check if he wants to come.” You decided to drop the last bomb, asking them for a huge favor.

“I also wanted to see if you could erase my memories of Azriel. Not everything, just the whole fiasco. I genuinely want to move on, and I feel like I won't be able to if I keep dwelling on it. Believe me, I've tried to avoid him and the situation for the past months, but the thoughts still linger.”

They were silent for a moment, likely speaking to each other through their mind. You met their saddened eyes as they nodded.

“I'm sorry you feel this way, Y/n. I genuinely wanted you to feel at home here, but of course we won't force you to stay. We'll erase the memories, but only if you promise to visit someday. Perhaps even let us come to you? I've heard the Day Court's sun is not to be played with, almost rivaling the Summer Court.” You giggled and nodded at Rhysand's words, tears streaming down your face – a mix of happiness and sadness. Overwhelmed with emotions, you embraced them as they gave you a big hug, one of the last you realized.

————————————

You surveyed your now empty room, memories of passionate moments and heartfelt kisses with Azriel lingering in the air. It felt like a distant past, a different life, a different version of you. Shouldering your bag, you descended the stairs. Rhysand had winnowed all your belongings back to your old quarters in Helion's palace. Lucien and Elain, already packed, awaited you at the breakfast table. It was time to share one last meal as residents of this house.

After announcing the news, Lucien and Elain asked if they could join you, insisting on the top-class tour of the court you had promised him. Delighted, you agreed, more than happy to bring your friends along as you all headed back home.

The table was filled with your friends as you shared one last meal, Azriel's seat empty as he was out on a mission. Unable to face him in fear of lingering emotions, you insisted on leaving while he was away.

Feyre stood at the head of the table, a mix of emotions visible in her eyes. She cleared her throat, capturing everyone's attention.

“Today marks the beginning of a new chapter for Y/n, Lucien, and Elain. Though farewells are always bittersweet, we must embrace change and growth. Y/n, you've been a cherished member of our court and a life-long friend, and while your path diverges, our bonds remain unbroken. Never forget that you will always have a home here.”

She smiled warmly, addressing each one individually, “Lucien, my first and dear fae friend, Elain, my kind older sister, your presence has brought joy to our home. The Day Court awaits, and I have no doubt that your light will shine brightly there.”

She raised her glass, “To new beginnings, may your paths be lit by the stars that connect us all. Safe travels, my friends.”

The room echoed with the clinking of glasses, a heartfelt farewell lingering in the air.

————————————

After tearful goodbyes, Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a glance, understanding the weight of your request. Pulling you aside, Feyre spoke softly, “Are you ready for this?"

You nodded, feeling Rhysand place a gentle hand on your forehead as Feyre held the back of your head. Together, they wove their magic, erasing the memories of Azriel and the pain attached to them. As the magic settled, you blinked, a new easiness in your eyes.

Rhys offered a reassuring smile, “May this bring you peace on your journey, Y/n.” You gave them a final hug, walking back to Lucien and Elain and winnowed back to your home.

—————

TWO YEARS LATER

At Helion's annual grand ball, you moved through the crowd, the vibrant atmosphere alive with laughter and music. You glanced around as you spotted your friends.

Approaching your dear friends, you hugged and greeted all of your friends, updating them about your life as you heared the uptade of theirs. Then, unexpectedly, you found yourself face to face with Azriel. His expression revealed a mix of confusion and curiosity. This was the first time you had met him simce you moved. Your friends told you that he was often gone on long missions, only staying briefly to report to Feyre and Rhysand before heading back out. Unbeknownst to you, your friends had slowly decreased their conversations and meetings with Azriel and he was now more of an employee than a friend. They loved both of you but there was no way to just let him back in as a dear friend after what he did.

“Hi, Azriel. It’s been a while. How’s everything going?”

He nodded, "Indeed. I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here."

You chuckled, “Really? I mean it is my home after all. Why is it shocking?”

Azriel furrowed his brows, "I thought... after everything, you hated me."

Your eyes widened in confusion, “Hate? I don’t know what you mean, Azriel. Why would I hate you? You’re a dear friend of mine.”

Realization dawned in Azriel's eyes, “Your memories...” But before he could continue, Rhysand pulled him away.

Azriel's realization hit him hard. The weight of the moment pressed upon him, and he felt a deep sense of remorse. Seeing you free from the memories, both good and bad, brought a profound ache.

He swallowed hard, the truth settling heavily in his chest. He had caused so much pain that you chose to erase him from your mind. A sickness crept over him, the regret of his actions piercing through as he watched you move through the ball, blissfully unaware of the history you once shared. Surrounded by the festive atmosphere, he felt a deep loss and the haunting echo of an irreversible mistake.

You looked happier and healthier than you had ever been. Deciding to not disturb the peace you created, he simply disappeared into his shadows, seeking out their comfort as he always had.

629 notes · View notes

witch-hazels-musings · 1 year

Text

tacenda

warning: hurt/comfort (reader believes the character doesn’t love them, rumors of loving someone else (D))(angst is very mild)

includes: alhaitham(1,384), diluc (1,692), xiao (1,563)

character x gn reader | anthology | definition: “things better left unsaid”

you loved him. You’d known for a while but kept quiet, save for telling a few trusted friends your secret. Beyond yourself, they knew how often you thought about him even when you didn’t want to, knew how you searched for him in the crowd even though there was no way he’d be there.

They knew, you knew, but he never did; and he never would --

-- this silly love of yours would have to stay silent

some things are better left unsaid --

alhaitham

You stood on your toes to reach the shelf above you. It took several attempts but soon enough the book was back in place and you moved on to the next in your pile.

The library was quiet. Just the way you liked it. No overbearing conversations, no rushing of bodies as they made their way through the campus. Just silent stillness, and the scent of books.

You made your way down each isle, adjusting and correcting books that were out of place until the stack in your hands was empty. Turning back, you made your way to your cart but stopped when a familiar figure caught your attention.

Alhaitham, the most attractive academician you’d seen in the short years you’d been here. You were introduced to his existence a year ago when you took a linguistics class on a whim and, there he was, sitting to the side making it impossible to focus on the lecture. The amount of times you’d stop functioning because of him was enough to give yourself second-hand embarrassment.

No one should be that attractive, you thought.

After some time, you realized you were just staring at him, so you shook your head and stumbled back to the book-cart. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw several others in the library staring at him too. A stunning creature made their way over to him and you lost all nerve to watch. Picking up a pile of books, balancing them in one arm so you could put them back with the other, you turned to head down an isle but glanced back to see Alhaitham in a dialogue with a person far above your league.

If there was someone he liked, it was certain to be someone like them.

It wasn’t surprising how popular he was. With a face like that it was a shock he didn’t have twenty confessions a day. You tried to still your straining heart, did your best to ignore the sting in your eyes. It would make putting the books back a bit more difficult if you couldn’t see.

You wandered through the isles. Careful to not make the floorboards creak to loudly as you scanned the authors names. “M ... Ma ...” Running your finger over the spines, you stopped when you found the right spot and slid your finger in between the two adjacent books. Making space, you reached for the book on the top of your pile and put it in its home. The rough leather tickled your skin as you ran it down the spine. Once settled, you examined the next book, unaware of the footsteps making their way toward you. “Ie... I -- oof.” You ran into something hard and just barely managed to stop the books in your arm from falling to the ground, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t ---”

Alhaitham was standing in front of you, eyes glaring at you and destroying whatever words were about to fall out of your mouth. His long, slender hand gripped the stack in your arm so they wouldn’t hit his torso.

“H-hand --” you blubber out, he raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry!” Panicked, you apologized louder than you intended. At the same time, you twisted to the side and backed up so fast you smacked into the bookshelf. Several books teetered at your forceful jostling and came crashing down. Lifted your empty arm to shield your head, you close your eyes in anticipation of being hit. The books landed heavy as they fell to the floor but you didn’t feel any pain. When you opened your eyes, you jumped at the sight.

Alhaitham’s body towered over yours, his arm was bent, hand balled into a fist and head covering you so the books wouldn’t hit you. You could feel his breath, see the darkness of his lashes, smell him -- you were sure you had a dream like this once before. He opened his eyes, wincing.

“Archons, are you okay?!” you asked in a worried whisper. Without thinking, you lifted your hand to touch the back of his head. His hair was silky smooth; hair hypothesis confirmed, check. “Alhaitham, I’m so sorry.” you apologized, retracting your hand as he stood up to his full height. He rubbed the spot you touched making you feel even more terrible. You bit the inside of your cheek and lowered your head in shame. “I’ll pay for your check-up.”

“What reason would you need to do that?”

“B-because I got you hurt, its the least I could to ...” you explained.

He examined his hand as if to check for blood and seemed satisfied to find none, “Healthcare in Sumeru is free,” he replied pointedly. In your state you completely forgot. It only made you more embarrassed.

“... right.” You tried to play it off with a laugh but it came out strange, like you’d never laughed before. Archons, just let me die, you pleaded. “Anyway, I’m sure I was in your way. Let me clean up this mess so you can go on about your day.”

“Did I say you were in my way?” he asked, watching you bend down to pick up the books that fell.

“Well, no. I guess you didn’t, but ...” you shook your head as you placed book after book on your already heavy pile. Alhaitham’s feet moved out of view which made you happy and sad at the same time. You wanted to talk to him, wanted to hold his attention, but not like this. Should you say goodbye to him or ---? “Oh - um...”

Alhaitham reappeared next to you, his hand reaching for the same book you were. You followed him as he stood up and placed the book back in its place and, without saying anything, he extended his hand down to you. Realizing he was asking for one of the books, you gave it too him and soon the two of you had the isle cleaned up.

“Thank you. First you save me from the books, then helping me put them back. What did I do to deserve such a kindness,” you marveled, not waiting for a reply. “Anyway, I’ll be on my way.” With a small nod, you walked past him but didn’t make it very far.

“Most people are wary of interacting with me,” he began, forcing you to turn back to look at him. His comment seemed so sudden, your expression doing little to hide the fact. “I’ve been told I am difficult to get along with. It is not in my interest to change what others think of me,” he looked at you and you pulled the books you still had closer to your chest. “Being social is not one of life's necessities. That is what I believe at least,” he took a step toward you and you took one back. The action made him pause. He looked to the left, jaw clenching for a second before his gaze returned to you. “I’ll occasionally go to the tavern for a drink after work.” He finished and you let the information digest. “Well then.” He turned and you were left speechless.

Just as he was about to round the corner, you took several steps toward him, “Was that -” he twisted to look back at you, “are you inviting me to join you ...?”

He smiled. The corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk, “Was that not obvious?” he answered before disappearing around the bookshelf and leaving you alone to feel the pressure of every author staring at you while you slowly combusted in the isle.

You had liked him for so long. Had wracked your brain trying to find the best way to talk to him. All you ever managed was quick phrases and helpful recommendations when he was searching for something.

You were sure he was the type of person to never show interest in anything other than his work or his books so ... why you? why all of a sudden?? what magical thing did you do to get his attention and how - how in the world were you going to keep it??

some things are better left unsaid, right??

diluc

You smiled politely to the customer before they turned and left the store. Their eyes gazing at the small bag you handed them moments ago. Whatever they would use that stone encrusted bracelet for, you weren’t sure, but it would look lovely nevertheless.

Carefully, you started reorganized the jewelry in the case. No matter how diligent you were, there was no escaping messing up the display stands as you reached for ones further in. With a heavy sigh, you knelt down and pulled out the displays one by one. A container of rings placed at your side, a ornate necklace with a ruby balancing on top. Your hand passed over the felted shelf to remove the dust bunnies accumulating there. You were practically inside the large case when the door chime rang out.

“One moment,” you maneuvered your arm to wave at the guest, to show them you were just on the other side. They didn’t say anything but you didn’t mind, you were cursing under your breath enough for the both of you. “... just go back ...” you huffed, finally placing the rings back in their proper place. With a click of the wooden door, you lifted yourself up only to have your heart leap out of your throat. “Welcome in, how can --”

Diluc Ragnvindr was standing on the other side of the glass case. His eyes fixated on you - more than they ever had before. You felt faint. He pulled up his glove, scanning the case in front of him.

Say something --- by the archons, say anything ...

“H-Hello, Mr. Ragnvindr. How can I h-help you today?” shaking your head at how much you stumbled over your own words, you tried to put on a pleasant smile. When he glanced at you, you gripped the edge of the glass case for support.

“Afternoon,” he began and you tried your best to listen without screaming. “I am looking for a gift.”

“Ah- Well ...” you bit the inside of your lip, tilted your head, “If you’ll allow me some questions, I can find the best piece for you?” He nodded, once, and you set out to assist him. “All of our pieces are suitable for anyone. We take great care in making each and every one of them-”

“Do you make these?”

The question caught you off guard. Quickly, you shook your head, “Not all of them. I typically make the larger works, like these,” you pointed at a set of radiant broaches in the case over. They glittered in the light and made you happy to look at. “I’m building my skill to make finer jewelry like the rings, necklace pendants and the like.” You wanted to ramble on about your craft but forced yourself to stop. Diluc wasn’t interested in your work, he was here for a ... a gift. “Anyway, so, does this person prefer necklaces, rings, a bracelet?”

“I’m unsure,” he glanced at you. Instinctually you swallowed and looked away.

“Okay, well what color do they most often wear ...”

The two of you went back and forth for a spell. You asking questions, pulling out pieces that he might enjoy and him giving his opinion, though it was very minimal. You did your best to be encouraging, helpful, even offering to wear a few of them so he could see what they would look like. It had been a while but, surprisingly no one interrupted you.

This was certainly the longest conversation you’d ever had with Diluc. Most of the time, you managed to ask, “how are you today, Mr. Ragnvindr?” or “Do keep yourself safe on your travels,” with a soft smile and gentle wave. It was all you could do to keep your muscles contained - otherwise they’d move wildly about in your excitement. Your friends tried to strike up more in-depth conversations but you chickened out every time - cowered. But right now it seemed easier to talk to him when you knew what to say without thinking. Jewelry was one of those things you loved. Helping people find the best piece was like a puzzle, a riddle no one else could solve. It was fun, and you were having fun helping him.

“So, are we any closer to your perfect gift?” you asked with lightness in your voice. He rubbed his chin and shook his head. “It can be tough to decide. There’s no rush,” you smiled, a small chuckle floating from your throat. “What’s the occasion anyway, perhaps that will help us decide?”

“Ah--” Diluc dropped his hand and cleared his throat. Confused, you took notice of his expression only to find his cheeks flush pink as he cleared his throat again.

“... an anniversary ... maybe?” your throat felt tight at the realization. Of course he’d be here for something like this. A gift for his lover -- you heard rumors about him being with someone but it hurt to know it was true. He opened his mouth to speak but you couldn't bare to hear his answer, “If that’s the case,” you pressed on, praying your eyes would hold themselves together, “perhaps a paired piece would be best. You know, something the both of you could wear to let others know that -- um --” you blinked, bit your lip again and shook off the bubbling turmoil rising in your chest. “So sorry,” you held up your hand and reached for a cup of water on the back counter. With a large gulp, you pushed a lump back down into your chest. “So, does that sound good?” You finished, recomposed -- kinda.

“That will do nicely.”

“Excellent, then let me --”

“May I ask for a paired broach set?” He pointed toward the broaches you hadn’t even pulled out. “Something practical would be best. Would it take long to make two pieces?” He looked back at you and you clumsily placed your glass on the counter.

“N-No, It just depends on what they look like. Are you sure you want -- I mean, let me get my notebook.” You fought against your better judgement to persuade him toward something else. It wasn’t your place to question a customer; even if that customer wanted something you made to place on another. You were here to help him pick the best piece for his ... you had a job to-do.

After several minutes of discussion, you had a sketch of the pieces and materials identified for each one. In his, a carnelian stone set in the middle, its reddish-orange hues certain to mimic the shine of his hair in the mid-day sun. While in his partners would hold a sunstone surrounded by golden filigree. Both would be able to rest nicely around the wearers neck, with, or without a tie.

“These will take me about a week, is that alright?” you asked, jotting down more notes in your notebook.

“I will return in a week then.”

“Okay.” The two of you exchanged pleasantries. A bow from you, a nod from him, and after some unusual reluctance, he bid you well before leaving the store. You raced after him, locking the door so you could take a moment to let the tears you held back fall free.

A week later and the brooches were done. They were some of your most beautiful work - considering the love you had for the owner, it wasn’t surprising that these pieces would be filled with your affection.

When the day came, you couldn’t muster the strength to be there. Of course you wanted to see him, but there was no way you’d make it this time. Not in the exchange and the permanent knowing that he loved someone else. So, you asked your coworker to cover for you while you wandered around your house, depressed.

A few days later you returned home after a long day. Today was your everything day, a day where you had to run from store to store to gather your weekly necessities, where you had to tend to yourself completely, and still work at the end of it all. You were exhausted, and just wanted to fall into bed.

Luckily, you still hadn’t seen the owner of Diluc’s paired broach - you wouldn’t be able to handle it if you did. At least you could live one more day in blissful ignorance.

You approached your apartment door. The small shelf of plants greeting you as you pushed the key into the doorknob. You were about to pass through when something caught your attention. Placed carefully behind one of the pots was a box, one you’d never seen before and one you certainly didn’t place there yourself. Shifting the items in your right hand to your left, you grabbed the box and brought everything inside.

Kicking off your shoes, you rushed to the island counter in your kitchen. The bags fell over, an apple rolled to the floor, but you didn’t care. Quickly, you turned on the light so you could see the box in your hand. Your keys jingled as they slide down your finger, dangling on their metal ring so you could reach for the lid and pull it away.

When you saw the goldened broach resting perfectly in the box, you crumbled to the floor. The sunstone glittered, the delicate designs that encased it brought tears to your eyes. “Why are you ...?” In the lid was a folded piece of paper that you practically ripped open to read:

-- Diluc Ragnvindr

I apologize that I could not give this to you earlier. When you find this, I hope the message finds you well and ... conveys my intentions. If, however, they are unclear, I will explain myself further if you are free and would join me for dinner?

Ill be waiting

Your heart was pounding, hands trembling as you reached for the broach in the box. Tears flooded your eyes as you searched for the clock in your apartment. 7:00pm -- was there enough time??

You didn’t wait, didn’t change, barely remembered to put your shoes on. The world was moving so fast and you were desperately trying to keep up.

With tears drifting behind you as you ran, you prayed you weren’t too late as Angel’s Share came into view and you gripped the brooch tightly against your chest.

some things are better left unsaid screaming from the heart

xiao

Xiao made it clear he didn’t want to be part of the human world. You knew that, knew he was selective in who he appeared before, who he shared his moments with. It was enough that you got to see him on the rare occasion you were spending an evening at Wangshu Inn. Most of the time you were passing by on your travels. If you had a spare moment, you’d head to the top to check in on him - unsure if he’d be there or not - while other times you swore you saw a shadow on the balcony looking down at you. Thought it was your wistful thinking he would be able to see you all the way down here - liking someone sure created powerful delusions.

It didn’t matter if you liked him though. Xiao was a Yaksha, a protector of the land, immortal, and you were ... well none of those things. It was better to save yourself the embarrassment and him the discomfort. So you kept your love for him a secret. It was just better that way.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure it gets there safely,” you professed to the inn owner with a small bow. She seemed pleased at your commitment and bowed with an equally pleasant smile. With swiftness, you turned on your heels and made your way to the elevator. The parcel fit nicely into your backpack, which you slung over your shoulder with ease. You waited patiently for the elevator to reach you and instinctually looked up at the balcony where the vigilant yaksha often stood.

The creaking wood settled and you took several steps forward, keeping your eyes locked on the red-railed balcony. Suddenly, you were falling forward and you realized you had timed the elevator wrong. It still had several feet before reaching you. Shouting, you put your hands out to brace your fall when a gust of wind wrapped you up and set you on your feet. Your eyes were shut tight until cool hands touched your shoulders.

Startled, you peeled them open and saw Xiao standing in front of you. He looked the same as always, if not a little worried. “Be careful,” he explained, holding you until you found your footing. The elevator finally came to a stop on the top floor, before long it began its decent.

“I’m sorry - I wasn’t looking,” Xiao didn’t say anything which you were glad of. If it were anyone else they might have scolded you but Xiao wasn’t like that. “Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed anyway. He let you go, moving several paces back to give you room. Your heart was pounding, but that wasn’t anything new when you were near him. He always managed to to set your body racing.

“You’re here again,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. I had a delivery for Smile and h-he told me Verr Goldet had a p-package. Excuse me,” you coughed, swallowing to help ease your nerves. Adrenaline was rushing through your body so you did your best to shake it off.

“Are you unwell?”

“N-No, just recovering,” you chuckled, flashing a reassuring smile his way as you shook out your leg. He didn’t say anything else the whole way down which gave you plenty of time to return to as normal as possible. “Well, see you,” you said, waving to him on the elevator as you made your way down to the road. It was going to be a long walk back to the harbor but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed the walk - except when your path was blocked by bandits or hilichurls.

You adjusted the pack on your back and began down the path when a gust of wind rushed past you. Confused, you turned investigate and were shocked to find Xiao walking slightly behind you.

“X-Xiao?” He looked at you, making you pause. “Did - um - is everything okay?”

“The road is dangerous. I’ll go with you,” he explained as he walked past you, taking the lead.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” you tried to explain, rushing up to meet him, eyes scanning his features and becoming even more smitten by them. Xiao was by far one of the prettiest people you’d ever seen; from his eyes to his lips he was gorgeous. You licked your lips, prying your attention back to the road. “I promise I’m not as weak as I look,” you said, raising your arm to show him your muscles - if one could call them that. He simply huffed and continued to walk beside you.

Xiao wasn’t much of a talker. Even if he was, you wouldn’t know how to strike up a conversation with him. Would he be interested in the things you had to say? What enjoyment could he get in a conversation about mundane human things when he’s seen eons go by. You gripped the straps of your bag and tried not to let your thoughts get the better of you.

The two of you walked in mostly silence. Every once in a while you’d make a comment about the scenery, ask a question about him which he’d give a curt reply to, or none at all. You did your best to stay positive but, before you knew it, the travel was over and you had reached the entrance to Liyue Harbor.

“Thanks for escorting me, Xiao,” you thanked him, slipping the bag off your back. “Here,” reaching inside, you balanced the bottom of the bag on your leg so you could grab a small, wrapped item. It had broken in transit, but that wouldn’t affect the taste. “I made these this morning. Since I don’t think you want -- or even use -- mora, this is the best thing I can give you as thanks.” You handed the food to him and he took it without protest. “It’s a honey-lavender rice cracker, they are sweet which I know is your preference.” He opened the wrapping and pulled one out that wasn’t split in two. You could still see the indent of the lavender you pressed in the middle. Smiling, you put your bag back on and began to walk further down the hill. “Thanks again, Xiao Xiao,” you chuckled, waving at him from below.

He didn’t follow you but you weren’t surprised. Xiao didn’t enjoy people so there was no way he’d willingly go into one of the busiest cities with you.

On your way, you passed by a familiar face who was looking at the hill you just descended.

“Good evening, Zhongli,” you called out and he looked down at you from the top of the bridge. His smile warm, welcoming.

“Evening,” he replied with a curt bow. You shuffled up to him, stopping just in front and gazing up at his face. He was already so tall but since he was higher on the bridge, he seemed even taller. “Returning from an delivery I see?”

“Mhmm, just made it back and am on my way to drop off a book from Verr Goldet.”

“I see,” he rubbed his chin, glancing up the hill before looking down at you, “What about your travel companion?”

“Travel companion ...?” Confused, you looked back only to realize what he meant, “Oh, Xiao?” He nodded, “He wanted to walk me back to the city. He’s never really done that before but I didn’t want to press him, ya’ know.”

“I see,” he repeated. After a moment of contemplation, his lips turned up into a smile, eyes glittering in the swaying lights. “It is unlike him to take an interest in the going on of humans. I am pleased to see him warming up to someone such as yourself.”

“O-Oh, well I don’t think I’m all that special,” you played it off, your hand waving in front of your face. “He’s just being nice ...” your mask began to fade as the words fell from your mouth, “ ... just nice ...” You could feel Zhongli’s eyes on you so you quickly snapped back, “Sorry, Zhongli. I need to get to the book-house before it closes.” You bowed quickly before rushing off further into the city.

Zhongli was astute so there was no way he didn’t notice how deflated you became. You’d never admit it to him, hell, you hardly admitted to yourself. Why would you? It was much safer to leave those desires of your heart in silence than let them be shared and destroyed in a matter of seconds. No, you’d keep the feelings you had in -- it was better that way.

Zhongli watched as you made your way through the bustling harbor. He could feel the sadness wafting off you like mist from crashing waves. Zhongli had lived long enough to know what love looked like in a persons eyes - or how it felt on the wind.

“Do not give up hope young-ones,” Zhongli hummed, head turning toward the small shadow on the hillside, “revelations may take their course in time. Isn’t that right, Alatus.“ The shadow faded but only after the figure it watched over disappeared from view. “Ah, fresh love,” Zhongli breathed deeply the air of evening waves with a knowing, energetic smile.

some things are better in their own time

#hazels works #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin angst-comfort #diluc simp elixir #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #diluc x gn reader #diluc x reader #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x gn reader #xiao #xiao x gn reader #genshin xiao

1K notes · View notes

tears0fsatan · 11 months

Note

I have something in mind

Can brothers+ Simeon (If you can) react to a smutty fanfic with male mc written by some random succubus?

They're just randomly scrolling on devilgram (or any other platform) and they see this fanfic (if you know what I mean)

Sorry if it's a bit confusing.

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... nsfw??, below 16 do not interact u'll be blocked if u do, male!mc, mainly implied dom!mc, mainly implied top!mc, possessive language yeahhhh 🤘🤘🤟, praise, levi has two dicks lol (its canon atp yall source: trust me), implied blowjob lol (levi), lowkey exhibitionism (satan&beel), mention of somno (belphie), mention of body worship lol (simeon)

:¨·.·¨ ♥︎ a.n... wait this is actually pretty cute??? HAHAHA had so many ideas for this thank you hon <3 (lol lets move past the fact that this req is almost a year old and it reminded me of svsss lowkey)

LUCIFER !

he doesn't really remember how things had gotten to this point, one moment he was busy doing his paperwork and the next he was reading this... obscene nonsense on his phone. it was horribly vulgar and terribly inappropriate, not to mention how it invaded his and MCs privacy.

yet for some reason, he couldn't look away.

lucifer was no teenage boy, he had the willpower to move mountains and never felt the urge to masturbate, especially to something as crass as smut of someone he knew personally.

he had no need to read horrible stuff like this since he could easily have the real thing, yet he had to admit, there was something rather enticing about someone's lewd fantasies between him and MC. it annoyed him to no end that someone thought of his MC in such a way but knowing that they knew it was lucifer that was the one making his human feel so good eased his jealousy.

it was comical almost, how the author depicted him fucking MC into the next day when in reality it was the opposite. it was lucifer who was under the mercy of the human, the one who would cry and beg for more, not that anyone outside of the two of them needed to know.

however, there was one commonality between the vulgar post and reality that made his pride flare, no one, not human, angel, or demon, could ever make his little human feel as good as he did. it was interesting to see how accurate yet inaccurate this succubus's fantasy was at the same time and only lucifer would know.

lucifer thought about leaving a comment correcting the author on what a satisfied MC really looked like, on how it was really he himself that trembled under the human's touch, and how MC managed to get the avatar of pride into such a state. yet, knowing that he was the only one who truly knew those little things pleased him greatly, and quickly dismissed the thought. some things were better left unsaid.

MAMMON !

during one of his nightly visits to his favourite casino, mammon couldn’t help but notice how some of the succubi keeping the gambling demons company were whispering amongst each other and giggling to themselves while occasionally throwing glances at him. at first, he thought nothing of it, he was a demon lord after all and the second oldest of all seven avatars of sins on top of being a model, it was no surprise people would recognise him.

throughout the night he caught wind of bits and pieces of the succubi’s whispering and immediately opened his D.D.D. to see exactly what the hell they were muttering about. what he found left him speechless and unable to focus on his bets the entire night, though he tried (and subsequently failed miserably) to not let it show.

there was a flare of anger at the thought of other people thinking of his MC in that way but the fact that they imagined him with MC had a different feeling flaring up in the pit of his stomach. a sense of smugness bubbled up from within, damn right it was him that was fucking MC, as if he would allow anyone else touch his treasure.

mammon's thoughts kept flitting back to the post despite himself, images of scenes the author described coming to haunt him through his bets and they had him shifting in his seat, eager to keep the money rolling in but also desperate to have MCs arms wrapped around him and make the dirty fantasies of a random succubus come to life.

he wanted to feel MCs desperation on his skin, he wanted the humans attention all on him, his eyes focused on the demon and him alone, but most of all, mammon wanted to hear the cascade of praises that the human sang his way, just like how the post had described. he needed all of it.

before he realised, his thoughts were no longer focused on the money he could've been earning and instead on his human. he'd deal with the perverted succubus and his increasing debt another day, what he needed right now was MC.

LEVIATHAN !

now, leviathan was no stranger to fan fiction, especially smut and x readers. he was what one could describe as an expert on internet culture, so how could he not know about something as infamous as fan fiction? they were his guilty pleasure, not that anyone knew.

he was also no stranger to searching MC up online, whether it was on devilgram to see the most recent photos captured of him or fabsnap to replay the videos of him doing a silly challenge with one of his brothers. while he knew that the real living human was merely a few steps away, leviathan wasn't sure if he wanted such a useless and gross otaku breathing down his neck.

so, when he was scrolling through devilgram to see updates on a new anime he was into and accidentally stumbled upon a once in a lifetime goldmine, how could he pass up the opportunity to read it? i mean, to think that some other basement dweller thought of him with MC in such an intimate way... that was pretty fucking awesome, wasn't it?! leviathan was divided between feeling like the luckiest demon in all three realms and feeling like he had tainted something he shouldn't have, as his eyes shakily scanned the blob of text with bated breath.

there were several moments that sent a shudder down his spine, the description of MC taking his cocks oh so sweetly had him running laps in his mind. even after he finished reading the entirety of the post, he had to go back again, as if to burn the text into his memory.

a whine made its way out of the demon's throat when the mental image of the human stroking his cocks with a lazy smirk on his lips and sharp eyes analysing his every move took reign over his thoughts, the image coming back despite how hard he tried to will it away and focus on the post again. his attempts proved futile, thoughts of MC on his knees in front of him with a cock in each hand, movement stopping completely just as he was about to come flashed in his mind with every breath⎯ leviathan couldn't get him out of his head.

hidden beneath the guilt that came with thinking of such lewd acts with MC lay a flare of envy⎯ how dare someone think of the revered human in such a manner? the more he thought about him and the post, the brighter the flare burned, and soon it consumed him, on top of the sinful thoughts of his human.

SATAN !

while waiting for a certain human to join him at the library for their promised tutoring session, satan decided to scroll through his devilgram, chuckling quietly to himself when he comes across a silly video of cats. however, his laughter soon died down when he scrolled onto the next recommended post and saw that it was about his study date and himself.

after a moment of pondering whether he should take the time to read the horny rambling of a random succubus or not, he ultimately decided, fuck it, why not? it was crude and quite poorly written, he noted, but the thought behind the post was made clear; satan took MC to the library under the guise of tutoring him when in reality it had only been a front to fuck the human in public.

a concoction of emotion bubbled underneath his skin and his mind ran rampant, the thought of someone naively believing that satan would be the one who would do something as ballsy as that nearly made him laugh, but he imagined a scenario where the dynamic flipped, and the chuckle died in his throat. various images of MC using him in a place he deemed to be his haven weaselled past his wall of self control and it became the only thing he could think of.

it wasn't something he hadn't thought of, it was just one that he tried not to acknowledge. after all, it was a public setting and satan had the reputation of a demon lord to keep up, he couldn't just do something indecent where lesser beings could see him and MC. yet, in a way, the vulgar musing of some unknown succubus brought an onslaught of unwarranted thoughts about him and the human doing uncouth things in places where someone could randomly stumble upon them that he didn't hate all that much.

the idea of the human covering his mouth with his hand to silence all the obscene noises so people wouldn't discover them had more of an effect on the demon than he thought and he had to stop himself from divulging in his horny daydreams further.

he was pulled out of his dirty fantasies by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and satan looked up to see that the human had arrived, chest rising and falling faster than it would normally, giving him the idea that he had run to meet him. the demon put on a smile and continued with the date like he never read the post in the first place, but unbeknownst to MC, there were endless plans swirling around in his mind.

ASMODEUS !

there is no demon in devildom who is more active on devilgram and fabsnap than asmodeus, the avatar of lust himself. it was no surprise to find him scrolling through his phone whenever he wasn't checking himself out on the nearest reflective surface. he isn't ashamed to admit he often checks posts tagged with his name, he enjoyed seeing all the compliments random succubi and inccubi showered him in.

though as of late, there was another name he found himself searching up alongside his. there was no one else it could've been besides MC, the human had somehow managed to worm his way into asmodeus's self fulfilled heart, which shocked even asmodeus himself. the demon always read every caption and comment under a post with either his or MCs name in it, especially posts tagged with both of their names. he made sure to never miss a post, regardless of whether they had something good or bad to say (of course the negative ones all got mysteriously bombarded with death threats and soon after were taken down). it was how he found the random musing of one of his fans.

it was scrambled and all over the place, not to mention the number of inaccuracies woven into it, and yet it turned asmodeus on nevertheless. there was one thing they got right; how the demon absolutely adored milking the human dry. the way his spit coated lips would bleed from how hard he bit on them and the way the filthy, degrading names that made asmodeus tremble in all the right ways would tumble past his lips as he rode him, he loved it all.

he fed off of MC's grunts and delirious praises like they were his last lifeline, both in this fan's fantasy and in real life. he never thought that someone could look as beautiful as himself while orgasming but then the human came along and suddenly it was like he had found god again.

the demon found himself getting more and more worked up as he read the text, the detail in the writing of what the two did sent a delightful shiver down his spine, and asmodeus had a sudden urge to stalk the human down and jump his bones. who knew someone's horny rambling could make asmodeus, the avatar of lust, feel this heated? as he skipped off in the direction of MC, thoughts about commissioning the fan kinkier work in the future cycled through his mind.

BEELZEBUB !

the avatar of gluttony wasn't someone who was constantly glued to his D.D.D. like a certain brother of his, if not for communicating with his brothers and MC or using his food sleuthing skills to find new and upcoming food businesses, he hardly even glanced at his phone.

yet somehow, beelzebub found himself unable to take his eyes off of his phone after one particularly tiring fangol practice. while all the other players had finished washing up and changing, the avatar of gluttony was still seated on the bench, unaware of the world around him. the post that had the demon so entranced was one about MC and himself doing sinful things that he only thought asmodeus would indulge in inside the very room beelzebub was situated in at the moment.

a shiver went down his spine and goosebumps broke out all over his skin, both from sweat that clung to his skin and the cool air and the post on devilgram. he was already hungry from not being able to eat during practice, but the description of MCs equally sweaty chest pressed against his back while his hands roamed beelzebubs waist made him feel a different kind of hunger⎯ a different sort of want.

usually his sin felt like a neverending void that he couldn't fill no matter how much he stuffed himself, and he still felt that, but the constant buzzing was somehow not as strong as the ache in his chest and the fire in his lower belly. amidst the heavy racing of his heart and the adrenaline from practice was still pumping through his veins, the post didn't exactly help with his current predicament.

he knew he needed to shower, to go back home and see his family, to stuff his face with all the food he could imagine in hopes of one day being able to silence the ravenous hunger, but after reading the post, he didn't know if he could take a shower without his member getting hard at the thought of MC doing him there too.

to be pressed up against the wall with his hands bracing his weight, the feeling of lips leaving evidence of their activities and lingering on the spot that drew out all sorts of uncharacteristic noises from the demon for a beat too long, the rough yet gentle touch of the human, all the thoughts swirled around in beelzebub's mind and it overpowered his insatiable hunger.

BELPHEGOR !

he had just woken up from the perfect after school nap with nothing to do, MC wasn't around and beelzebub was most likely in the kitchen emptying out the fridge. all homework that needed to be completed was filled out, it wasn't his turn to make dinner and he had already finished all of his chores. with nothing better to do, belphegor slid his phone out from where it was tucked underneath his pillow and scrolled through devilgram with no real goal in mind.

all the posts that flooded his feed were of fellow RAD students he couldn't have been bothered to remember and random promotional shots of RAD from the student council account that he felt the sleepiness creep back into his mind. just as he was about to shut off his phone and continue his nap, a flash of MCs name caught his eye and he scrolled back up to the post.

it was a relatively long post and belphegor mentally groaned, not in the mood to read something so lengthy, but he caught a glimpse of a few rather enticing words along with the human's name thrown in between and he was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to read the entire thing.

the way the author had detailed how MC fell victim to late night wood and couldn't sleep it off no matter how many times he tried while cuddling the demon, resulting in him rutting in between belphegor's thighs until the demon stirred awake had him squirming underneath his blanket.

with the help of his sleep addled mind, he could feel the ghost of MCs touch on his skin and he had to suppress the whine that wanted to crawl out of his throat. his eyes continued to skim through the fat chunk of text, swallowing thickly when he read about how the human sucked on his neck to muffle the sound of his own groans, leaving marks in his wake.

belphegor could hardly finish reading the post due to the onslaught of vivid scenarios of MC being all over him and feeling him up in his sleep, to which he felt his half hard dick twitch in his sweats. content with the train of thought his mind was heading in, the demon shut his phone off with the perfect dream to indulge himself in.

SIMEON !

all he was looking for was a new recipe and yet somehow, he found himself entranced with the filthy, sinful words. simeon was by no means the perfect angel, he had done his fair share of dirty deeds in his time but nothing quite enough to make him fall like his former brothers.

temptation was, naturally, an angel's worst enemy and simeon was known to flout the rules every now and then, and this was of no exception. the words on his D.D.D. were familiar yet strewn in a way that was foreign to the angel. it wasn't as though he was completely ignorant of such activities, but his status as an angel certainly meant that he had limited understanding of it outside of reproduction purposes.

so when this post suddenly showed up on his feed, as an author himself, how could he pass up the opportunity to read such a miracle?

the writer described MC in such a way that left simeon feeling flustered, with how this written version of him became so pliable, like putty in the human's hands. he didn't consider himself submissive, but rather something in between. however, there was something about MC praising him for doing well that made the angel think corrupting himself for the human wasn't all too bad of an idea.

he particularly enjoyed the way the writer entailed that MC was gentle and didn't limit himself when it came to praises while he caressed simeon's body, worshipping his body like it deserved. the angel could practically hear the breathy whisper of his name on the tip of the human's tongue, could see the satisfaction on his face whenever simeon couldn't hold back a noise from how good the human was making him feel.

well, as long as he didn't actually act out what was written, he wasn't breaking any rules, now was he? then, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in a few more similar works, right?

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scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year

Text

The merman, the soldier and me

---

Pairing: Namor x reader

Word Count: 1200

Content: confined space, making out, fake dating

Warnings: none

---

Just some idea that popped into my head late at night. I love the winter soldier too but was just craving a bit of angst hahaha

---

He took a hold of your hand, gently raised it to meet his lips, his eyes never leaving yours while you didn’t know what to do because all this was just a performance. It was. You were sure of it. His brown eyes bore into yours as though they were reading your thoughts. His lips warm on your skin. This was supposed to be a ruse. The moment breaks, he grins as though he had proven a point while your eyes scurried to find Bucky in the crowd around you.

The winter soldier looked, well he looked distant as usual but there was a flicker of jealousy in his eyes and that was all you wanted. You wanted to get a rise out of him having grown tired of chasing him about and getting him to open up so when this merman decided to join the avengers, it was easy to get him to play the part with you because you both hated each other to the point this appeal of a fake relationship suited both your needs. You could get back at Bucky while he… well what was he getting out of this, you still couldn’t remember or maybe he never gave a proper reason to agreeing to all this.

But now, there was a tension between the two of you, the air filled with unsaid things and it all had started to feel a little too real.

You pulled away your hand gracefully while the other members mumbled and laughed but Bucky had left already, turning your plan into an utter mess. It sparked a frustration within you, causing you to latch onto his arm and march off into the avenger quarters as the crowd whooped and cheered thinking you both were only seeking a more private area.

“In yakunaj”, he drawled as he let you lead him on. He could stop you if he wanted but he didn’t.

“What does that mean?”, you demanded and he grinned again, admiring the authority in your voice.

“My love.”, he said and you groaned.

“You can drop the act now.”, you hissed searching for a private spot to have a conversation but the whole area was teeming with new recruits.

“We both know just how much we love other.”, you said sarcastically when you found a supply closet.

“Madly and deeply?”, he asked slyly as he entered the tight space. You get in and shut the door behind you.

“This can’t go on.”, you cut straight to the point. Maybe it was time, his presence was beginning to creep under your skin, you had begun to like being around him.

“We’ve barely begun.”, he retorted to which you huffed. What more did he want to do? Kiss you like he needed the ocean in front of everyone?

You shook away that imagery because some part of your heart wanted it.

“I think it’s enough.”, you reiterated.

“He’s hardly reacted. Wouldn’t it be better if we got him to be a bit more miserable?”, he grinned and maybe this was what you both had in common. The mischief.

“What exactly do you get out of this?”, you narrow your eyes and lean forward. But he stayed put, not hindered by your forwardness.

“Why should he get all the attention?”, he cocked his eyebrow.

“Oh so that’s it. This is some kind of competition for you.”, you folded your arms resting on the wall behind you.

“Everything is, isn’t it?”, he questioned which seemed fair.

“And what do you aim to win?”, you ask tilting your chin forward but to this he grew quite.

“You…”, he leaned forward on his own terms and you had to agree, there was something magnetic about him.

“you do not need to know that.”, he said after a pause, his dark eyes drowning in yours.

“I… urgh I can’t stand you.”, you tapped his shoulder for his response. Everything was a struggle with him, he would not even answer your questions.

“Oh you think it has been a pleasant experience for me?”, he grew angry too.

“Why did I do this to myself?”, you cry to which he grumbled.

“I hate the very sight of you.”, he thundered.

You paused as the words settled in but his eyes widened at what he had said, while yours narrowed.

“I … I hate the sound of your wings.”, you retorted quickly in an attempt to hide the flicker of hurt you felt when he had said what he said. It shouldn’t have bothered you. Instead it did. So you continued.

“Or the way my name sounds on your lips.”, to which he got closer, his eyes like those of a shark reading your every move. It felt intoxicating to hold his gaze and attention.

“I hate your eyes that see me like no other.”, he said in a reserved manner as though these words he meant it with his whole heart. The king of an entire underwater civilization grew quite as he now slowly trailed his finger down your cheek and you felt your knees could give way any second. He softly took a strand of your hair to feel it between his fingers.

“Or that your hair in so dark that I want to be lost in it.”, he said, his gaze fixed on you as he watched you attempt to swallow only for your throat to run dry.

Words had come to a halt and now only the hands spoke. You pulled down on his beanie to cover the tip of his ears because many didn’t know of his existence yet and let your fingers trail down to feel the stubble on his jaw. While his finger fiddled with the end of the zipper to your overall. You sunk your fingers into his hair base of his neck to which the fire in his eyes grew and your mind had erased Bucky, it only wanted to dwell in Namor’s touch.

“What does he have to offer that I cannot give you?”, he questioned, his tone was sarcastic and jealous.

“Love”, you answered toying with the edge of his collar to which he scoffed which then turned into a dark chuckle.

“I’ve been yearning for you like my body longs for the waters of the ocean.”, he whispered, his mere breath on your skin felt like the ocean current pulling you in.

“So show me.”, your eyes found his.

“Show me how your love feels like.”, you pull him close.

“What of the winter soldier?”, he grinned as he pulled down the zipper slowly, exposing your neck and then your collarbone.

“He doesn't seem to mind my existence and I've grown rather tired of his indifference.”, you respond

But the moment you finished your sentence he pulled down the zipper, his hands found the curve of your waist, his soft fingers traversed your skin while his lips had enough area to cover from your neck to your lips and all you could do was not resist this, this pull towards him, this connection that called your soul to his. There was a gentle authority in his touch, that holding you in his arms was a sacred practice. That he was designed to hold you and love you with reverence and having now tasted a love like this. As strong as the sea, as wild as the breeze but as certain as the sun.

How then can you seek out a winter you knew nothing off?

#namor #mcu namor #namor x reader #namor x poc!reader #namor x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #mcu fic #namor fluff

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neondiamond · 1 year

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🌸 Recently Read Fics - April 2023 🌸

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 🤍

🌸 Rainy Days, New Adventures by @greenblueish (1k, G)

After a bad day, Louis decides to take a walk in the park where he meets a special man with a special little companion.

🌸 His and Hers by @hellolovers13 (1k, T)

It's just a blanket, it shouldn't make Harry freak out like this.

🌸 Do You See What I See by @allwaswell16 (2k, T)

Harry may or may not be rescuing stray animals as an excuse to see the very hot local veterinarian.

🌸 Changing Weather (For Worse or For Better) by @haztobegood (3k, M)

Five times it's raining and one time it stops.

🌸 Just a little taste by @lunarheslwt (3k, G)

Harry is a vampire that comes home one night, grappling with the darkness that comes with being one. Louis offers him unwavering love, acceptance and the one thing he needs but is reluctant to ask for; permission to bite for the sake of comfort and safety seeking.

🌸 Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup (4k, G)

Where you have a tattoo of the first thought your soulmate has when they see you.

🌸 There’s More Than Meets The Eye by @faithinwalls369 (4k, NR)

Loving from afar left room for wonder, absent embarrassment and an eradication of stuttering. Falling at one's feet, metaphorically or physically is thrown into the mix, when Niall and Liam play cupid’s arrow, throwing a blindfolded Harry and Louis together. Chemistry isn’t Niall’s chosen subject, but when sparks fly, it’s something he should consider.

🌸 some time to borrow by @sun-lt (8k, T)

In which Louis breaks his arm, Harry buys a car, and they do what they can with the time they have.

🌸 Station 28 by @justahappycloud (10k, G)

Some people meet by accident. Two unassuming worlds that weren’t supposed to even graze each other clash, and in an unexpected twist of destiny, they fuse into one. It’s destructive. It’s life changing. It’s, unequivocally, a complete and utter mess.

Darling, you are my favourite accident by far.

🌸 Keep Driving by @dedtobeginwith (11k, M)

Louis works as a driver contracted through the local cancer institute. All of his clients are associated with the hospital—mostly patients and their families heading home. One rainy afternoon, he picks up Harry.

🌸 Somebody’s Got Your Trainers On (It’s You) by @greenblueish (28k, E)

The one where, after two years, paediatrician Harry returns to Silver Street Hospital and with it to paediatric nurse Louis' life.

🌸 saw some things on the other side by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (61k, M)

When Louis moves into the mansion he’s inherited from his great grandfather, he has a plan that consists of three things. One, he’s going to finish writing the next novel in his series. Two, he’s finally going to get over his ex-fiancé. And three, while battling writer’s block and having to resist the urge to kill off the main character in his books – the hot detective based on his ex-fiancé – he’s going to restore the mansion to its former glory.

Unfortunately, Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

🌸 another friday night by @wabadabadaba (73k, M)

Louis Tomlinson thought signing to BMG would mean he would be free to make his own choices.

He should have known better.

Tasked with getting a public girlfriend, Louis decides to try his hand at finding the right woman himself. From the moment he met Lennon Adair he felt a connection with her but he had no idea how deep that connection would go.

🌸 And What If I Were You by @jacaranda-bloom (109k, E)

For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?

For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

A story of love. A story of loss. A story of fighting for each other, no matter the odds.

#monthly recs #fic rec #28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hlcreators

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wulflynn · 1 year

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Cullen Rutherford Fanfiction Recommendation...

This is a list of AO3 fics that I've really enjoyed reading, and I wouldn't have found them myself if it weren't for other recommendation posts on Tumblr. There are still plenty more that I've yet to find that I know I'll enjoy, but as of right now, these have been amazing reads that I'm sure others are bound to enjoy as well if they're fond of Cullen c:

WARNING: pretty sure they're all rated for mature audiences, but if you click on any of these please check the tags to decide if you'd like to read any further.

I hope the formatting for this is correct, if there is a correct-or typical-way to format these recommendations. I just did it how it'd made sense to me *shrug. Correct me, otherwise. Teach me how to Tumblr.

Thank you to the authors for your creative prowess and for giving me permission to add your stories to this list! I'll add more over time, I'm sure. May you receive all of the kudos and feedback, and continue to find joy in creating your stories. <3

Wrong fandom but I'm always compelled to say, "kill write well...and often." x3

Updated 04/08/2023: A couple more have been added! c:

Summary: When the Inquisition disbands, Cullen disappears without a trace. After he is found begging in the streets of Val Chevin, his long-time friend and former lover, Mira, comes to find and bring him home. As she tries to help him quit lyrium for good, they discuss their past and finally say all the things between them previously left unsaid.

Summary: Everyone around her seemed incomprehensibly eager to have the rebel mages close the Breach. Never mind that it made her a funnel in some magical experiment, one that they didn't know for sure would even work. No, much better if they found the templars instead - for herself and for Myca. Yet it was only the suspicious commander who shared this view. Suddenly she had a reason to get on his good side.

Broken Song by Decim

Summary: Remy Hawke and Knight-Captain Cullen have been entangled with each other since their first meeting… she’s made sure of that. What started out as an ill-advised affair quickly grew into something more, though circumstances made that certain lines could never be crossed. Once she leaves the city and her position as Viscountess, they say goodbye for good, not anticipating that only a year later they will meet again when the world is coming to an end.

An alternate version of Dragon Age: Inquisition in which Hawke attended the Conclave and became the Herald, with flashbacks to Dragon Age 2.

Thank you to @decimdraws on Tumblr! ✨

Wander the Drifting Roads - Pt. 1 of Nothing Wrought Shall be Lost by mortonsspoon

Summary: After defeating Corypheus, Lavellan thought the worst was behind them. When Cullen is captured and exposed to red lyrium, the Inquisition loses its Commander and Lavellan loses the man she loves.

The two face diverging paths forward: Lavellan attempts to find purpose in life after the end of the organization they built together, and Cullen must find a way to come to terms with the darkness he's faced for a decade before he loses his memories of her forever.

Book of Memories - Pt. 2 of Nothing Wrought Shall Be Lost by mortonsspoon

Summary: There is a book in Comtesse Lavellan’s library in Kirkwall. It has been meticulously bound in leather, with the shape of a tall, spreading tree and a lion embossed on the front. Inside, there are a number of writings: recollections from a darker time, hopes and fears, and moments archived in writing for their own safekeeping.

Or: An anthology of what happened to Emmaera and Cullen before, during, and after the events of Wander the Drifting Roads.

*Tags will be updated as chapters are posted

Thank you to @shivunin on Tumblr! ✨

This is a series of works and I will post the description and notes rather than the summary like with others c:

Description: "When your skies are grey, and your whole world is shaking, to the Moon and back, I'll love you more than that."

Notes: A collection of short fics and drabbles about Cullen Rutherford and Eurydice Lavellan.

Thank you to @star--nymph on Tumblr! ✨

In Waking Dreams by AParisianShakespearean

Summary: They fall in love slowly during the war at the height of the Inquisition. During their romantic and eventually sexual relationship, the former Circle mage and former templar discover they love one another as more than the Commander and Inquisitor, more than the rose that survived and endured the winter, and more than a forgotten goddess of old. Then war, like everything, ends. They dream of dawn after stars. *** The love story between Inquisitor Lydia Trevelyan and her Commander. As the Inquisition begins and unravels, so do their own personal struggles, issues, torrid pasts, and feelings for one another. Sprinklings of other characters here and there. Slightly diverges from canon. Rated E for later chapters.

Thank you to @a-shakespearean-in-paris on Tumblr! ✨

Description: Take a look at the Thedas with Inquisitor Trevelyan, a noble, a mage and a leader. Her adventures weren't filled with just action and fighting, but it came with a hint of drama and romance - something the nobles would often gossip about.

Thank you to PoptartCandy (I'm not sure if they're on tumblr, but this can be amended if so)!

Summary:

Evelyn Trevelyan, once on her way to become a Senior Enchanter at the Circle of Ostwick, now an apostate, has had a very hard last couple of years. And it looks like she can expect to have very hard years ahead of her, too.

Luckily for her, she has plenty of experience hiding just how awkward, clumsy, and terrified she is of everything. Also luckily for her, she discovers that there are people she doesn't have to hide from. Friendships, family, and even love can be found and forged in the unlikeliest of places. Bridges are built to span the breach between warring peoples and hearts even as they fight the Breach in the sky and the one that caused it.

Yet another retelling of the adventures that occur in Dragon Age: Inquisition. Mostly canon, divergences are like a scenic route. Filling in the holes, building the friendships and relationships, and connecting the dots that we don't see in-game. From the light and playful moments to the dark and violent twists and turns, joy and angst, eventual smut, thus the M rating.

Thank you to Kartoonist (I don't know if they're on tumblr either, but if so this will be amended)!

#cullen rutherford #cullen romance #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x hawke #cullen x lavellan #cullen x trevelyan #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2 #dragon age origins #cullen rutherford fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation

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lovesosweeet · 8 months

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better left unsaid

chapter nine

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn't know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

july 26th, 2018 los angeles, california orion

Even though I don't want to, I feel myself pulling away from Calum. Of course, that’s not fully possible when we live together. I just know that the more we talk and are happy in each other’s company, the more I’ll want to talk about what’s actually happening, and I can’t do that. I can’t put him through that. I'm crying the minute I'm alone every time, whether it's while he's at rehearsal or when he takes Duke outside. He can tell I'm sad, surely, but I think he just thinks it's because he's leaving.

So instead of pulling away fully, I just find myself scrolling on my phone more often while he’s home. I don’t start as many conversations and I’m less likely to initiate any kind of physical contact. If he notices the small shifts in our dynamics, he doesn’t say anything.

My heart is torn between wanting to savor our time together, clinging to him like glue, or taking a step back so I don’t have to bring myself to painfully expand upon the lies I’m building as a wall between us. It’s hard to pretend like I’m okay and happy, but I have to. I can’t let him know things are going wrong, so when he asks if I want to come along for rehearsal today, I say yes.

I dread having to see Ashton. We haven't spoken since our interaction in the hospital parking lot, but he's texted me several times saying things like "I just want you to know I love you" and "please let me be there for you if you need someone." I just reply with hearts each time.

"Do you want to grab bagels on the way?" Cal asks me while I'm in the bathroom doing my makeup.

I nod, smiling slightly. "Yeah, sure. Rosie's? Or is there somewhere else on the way?"

"Nah, let's do Rosie's."

He doesn't leave the bathroom after that, just stands in the doorway, watching me in the mirror. I'm brushing some brow gel on when he speaks again.

"Are you feeling okay? Did the sinus infection come back?"

So he has noticed.

I clear my throat and nod. "Yeah, not feeling the best."

His eyes show some kind of emotion I can't place. "I'm sorry, do you want to stay home today? You can come to rehearsal another time. We've still got a few more."

"No, I'll come." I shake my head, offering him another small smile.

"Let me know if you want to leave, at any point. Okay?"

"Sure."

Once my makeup is finished, we head down to the lobby, hand in hand. I've always loved holding hands with Calum. Mine are small and always freezing, and his dwarf mine and are always so warm. His hand tattoos have also always been my favorite, mostly because I love the thought that his parents have a hand in everything he does. We're both close with our families, and I absolutely adore his family. We've not spent a ton of time together, but Joy, Mali, and I have a group chat that we talk in a few times a month.

When we get in the car, he doesn't let go of my hand while he drives, except when he needs to use a turn signal or something. Feeling tethered, grounded in the moment — it's a great feeling. It's helping to keep me sane this morning.

I wonder if he'd hold on tighter knowing that I'm dying.

I've placed on online order for Rosie's, so Cal just turns on his hazards in front of the shop while I run inside to grab our bagels and coffees. I always feel kind of rude hopping in front of the people in line, but it's not worth waiting when our food is already ready and waiting for us.

While Cal drives to rehearsal, I unwrap his sandwich in a way that makes it easier for him to eat while driving. He gives me authority over the aux chord, which he rarely does, so I try to make it worth my while. I play some Still Woozy, The Wldlfe, and Medium Build. Part of the reason I rarely get the power over our music is because I like to mess with him and play his own music. I can tell he appreciates today's choices.

We get to the rehearsal facility and are the last ones there, but we brought bagels for everyone, so they don't mind that we're slightly late. Luke lights up when he sees me, setting his guitar down quickly and runs over.

"Orion!" He practically squeals. "I've missed you!"

Laughing, I give him a hug, which leads to him lifting me off the ground and spinning us around. My mood is instantly lifted. "Hi Luke."

"Cal, you should bring her everyday, she's so fun to have with us."

I scoff. "Luke, I literally just sit on the couch and watch you."

"Yeah, but you actually sing along and you always bring snacks."

My feet are back on the ground, and I'm quickly met with hugs from Mike, Ash, and Matt. Ashton's hug lasts a little longer than everyone else's, and his face is sad in the midst of everyone else's grins. It doesn't seem like anyone else notices.

"Cal's the one behind today's snacks, don't give me the credit," I tell him, but he just shrugs and throws his arm over my shoulders.

"Still, you always sing along and dance sometimes. It's nice to have an adoring fan."

It is kind of funny that I wasn't a fan when I met Calum two years ago, and now I'd say they're my favorite band, and not just because I'm dating one of them. I truly just really love their music, and I love dancing, so it's not hard for me to want to dance when they're performing or rehearsing. It's not like they've been performing a ton in recent years, but that summer I remember quickly learning every song so I could sing along whenever I visited Calum across Europe.

"Wish you could come with us," Michael adds.

"Next time," I say, even though I don't know that that will be possible. I'd like to think it is.

"Can I get that in writing?" Cal chimes in.

I playfully stick my tongue out at him. "I'm gonna miss you guys." I look over at Ashton and meet his eyes instantly. He looks like he's trying not to cry, and I have to look away before I start to dwell on it.

Luke wraps me into another hug. "You're so tiny, we could just put you in a suitcase and sneak you on the tour. Your professors won't even know you're missing." When he lifts me up again, Matt decides to cut the conversation.

"All right, you've told Orion you love her. Let's get to work."

"Such a buzzkill, Matty," Michael whines, grabbing his water bottle off the ground and walking over to his guitar on its stand.

Luke still has me wrapped in his hug and awkwardly carries me over to the couch. I wish Sierra or Crystal or Kay were here to sit with me, but it's nice to be able to put my feet up on it. He ungracefully drops me onto the leather cushions before he heads back to his own guitar and mic stand.

I look over and catch Cal strumming a few random chords on his bass. At least, they seem random to me. I'm sure he's got some intention behind it. Everything music-related goes above my head.

It's nice to get to watch the set before they show the world. I've always loved the way they try to offer a different experience for their music when they perform it live. Of course, there aren't any lights or anything in this essentially empty building that's just a step above a warehouse, but that gives the music a chance to shine as what it is. Art.

Watching them do what they love reminds me that this time apart is necessary. This is what they love. This is why they do what they do. Performing, bringing their work to the people who make it all possible. I love that they get the chance to do this. I've never had resentment towards Calum for going on this tour, but still, watching them practice the set is giving the time apart an additional level of worthiness.

While I'm getting treatment, Calum will be doing what he loves most in this world with his favorite people. I'd feel so selfish taking him away from it.

I nearly start crying when Cal practices his speech for his talking break.

"Los Angeles, this next song is dedicated to my best friend, my partner in life, and my biggest fan. This is Better Man."

It's going to be fine. It has to be. He's going to go on this tour and then when he comes back he can be by my side as I continue to deal with whatever leukemia throws at me.

—

"Matty, we're gonna go to the beach after this, wanna join?" Michael calls across the room. He's the only one who calls Matt 'Matty' and naturally Matt hates it.

None of us have swimsuits, but we all agreed that the beach sounds like a good idea. It's still hot out, since it's the middle of summer, but it's not quite as hot and humid as it has been for the last few weeks. Rehearsal also didn't take too long today, so we have a lot of the day left.

"I'm tired of you guys and about to spend four months with you. I'll pass." Matt actually loves the guys, but he's a grumpy person in general, and he does have a point. "See you tomorrow." He walks off then, going through a door that leads somewhere that I've never been. I can understand finding them annoying. They can be a lot — but I love them and I love being part of their shenanigans.

We all head out, everyone hopping into Cal's Jeep to minimize beach parking chaos on a beautiful day. I offer to sit in the back since I'm the smallest and the guys are all very tall, but nobody lets me and the three of them cram in like sardines in the backseat. We drive with the windows down, and Cal even lets me control the aux again, so I just keep the playlist I'd had on earlier.

Once we get to the beach, as soon as the car's in park, Ashton opens his door and jumps out. "Last one in the water is a loser!" He screams, running full force down the wooden walkway and ripping his shirt off in the process.

Luke and Mike scramble out to follow him, also stripping their shirts and trying to kick their shoes off while they run. Luke trips, giving Mike a lead, but naturally Ashton gets to the water first. I have no hope of trying to beat them, so I've not even opened my door yet, and I'm surprised to see Calum still sitting in the driver's seat when I look over.

"You didn't want to race?"

"I know you're not feeling too great. I didn't want to leave you and make you the loser. That's not a fair fight," he explains. "C'mon, let's go after them."

I frown. "You could've gone."

"I'm about to leave you for four months. I don't need to leave you yet."

He makes my heart ache. Why is he so good to me? How can someone love me like that?

Instead of revealing how I feel, I plaster on my best fake smile, kick off my shoes, take off my shirt, and get out of the car. "Let's go!"

He follows suit, and then we walk hand in hand down the beach. The other three are already in the water, each trying to push the others to fall over, which ends up with all three of them falling over. When Cal and I reach them, they're all yelling, "LOSERS!"

"You are literal children," I tell them, wading into the water. I love the beach. Floating in the water, laying in the sun, looking for shells. All of it.

"You're younger than all of us," Ashton points out, laughing.

"Shut up," I say, leaning back so I can float in the water. I don't let go of Calum's hand, and he keeps me anchored so I don't drift off.

I can't get to a point of relaxation, because before I know it, Michael splashes water in my face, making me jump and turn upright. I splash him back, and when he splashes me again, it hits Cal. Once Cal's in on it, the other two join in, and we're all just splashing each other, squealing with laughter and squinting from saltwater hitting our eyes.

When I can't see because of all the water that's hit my eyes, I halt my splashing. While I rub at my burning eyeballs, someone must notice, because they stop.

"Man down!" Luke yells.

I feel Calum's hands grip my forearms, stopping my movements. "Stop rubbing and let your tears flush it out, babe," he says.

I do what he says, dropping my arms and trying to open my eyes, the sting making it impossible to try to look. "It burns!"

He laughs. Seconds later, I feel him pull me closer to him, hugging me against his damp torso while waves lap around us. I keep trying to blink and get the water out of my eyes, but it feels pretty futile so far.

It's kind of strange to think about this life. I'm just swimming in the ocean at a random beach access near LA with my boyfriend and his three best friends. Those four people happen to be internationally famous musicians who are about to embark upon a world tour. They're massively famous but so normal, just four more guys at a beach splashing water at each other.

And I'm just a random girl at a random beach access who happens to have leukemia. The odds that we're all here, right now, together, feels so special. The universe put us here for some reason, and I'm so happy I'm here with them. I'd say I feel lucky to have been handed this deal of fate, but I know that this blip of a moment pales in comparison to my recent diagnosis.

I try to soak in the feeling of the sun on my face and the weight of Cal's arms around me; the smell of salt and the coolness of the water. I even try to memorize the way my eyes burn. I just want to remember the way this feels forever.

We hang out in the water for an hour or so, then go back to the shore to lay out and relax. Luke and Michael are turning pink quickly, so we don't stay out too long. I make sure we get a selfie of all of us on the beach together before we pile back into the Jeep.

Calum drives everyone back to their cars, and we all get out to say goodbye. Everyone is damp and sandy, but I don't care. I give each of them a bear hug, squeezing them as tightly as I can. Luke picks me up and spins me around again, and Ashton's hug feels nearly bone crushing.

"See ya tomorrow, Cal!" Mike says, giving him a quick hug. "Bye, O. Thanks for coming along today!"

"Love you both," Luke adds in. "Have a nice night!"

"I love you guys. Let me know when you're home!" Ash calls.

Once everyone has given each other a hug and we're sick of feeling sticky, sweaty, damp, and sandy, we all clamber back into our own vehicles and head out.

"How ya feeling?" Cal asks once we're on the road.

"I'm okay," I tell him. It's not wrong. I'm okay right now, and I'm not feeling that sick. The beach was mostly a nice distraction from the heaviness that's been consuming me.

"Ice cream?"

I know he's just trying to make the last of our few days together as special as he can, but for some reason it almost makes me feel more sad. I'm lucky to have someone who makes such a big effort, but I feel bad. It's hard to put words to the idea.

"If you want ice cream, sure," I say. "But I think we have some at home, too."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road while he places his hand on my thigh. "Let's get ice cream and take a walk while the sun sets. We can get some golden hour selfies."