#'a beautiful voice convinced me' holds up in court about as well as 'the sun was too bright' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlitstoriess · 17 days ago

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Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem! reader (mini-series) Part 4

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel's secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

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Warnings: a brief intense scene, nothing explicit or smutty.

Y/N stood at the edge of the ship, watching the rolling waves below, the salty air sweeping across her face as the sails creaked in the breeze. The afternoon glow of the sun sent a sense of calm over her, a perfect scene to mark the beginning of this journey. Yet despite the beauty around her, her thoughts were already far away—reeling from everything she’d left behind.

She had never imagined that she’d be leaving Montesere, much less as a princess of all things. A fake one, yes, but still, the title clung to her now. And soon, she’d be stepping into the Autumn Court—Eris' court—and the sheer thought of it made her stomach twist. The uncertainty of everything, the fear of stepping into an entirely new world, gnawed at her insides.

It was then that Samira found her.

"You’re going to freeze out here," Samira called softly, her voice a gentle contrast to the bracing wind. She stepped closer to Y/N, holding out a blanket she had snatched from one of the deck chairs. "Come inside. You’ll catch a chill."

Y/N turned to face her, trying to force a smile but failing miserably. The worry was written all over her face, and Samira, always observant, didn't miss it.

"You know, I’m starting to think you like the cold," Samira teased, draping the blanket over Y/N’s shoulders.

"Maybe," Y/N said with a weak laugh, looking back out at the horizon. "Or maybe I’m just trying to ignore the fact that I’m about to be someone I’m not."

Samira’s expression softened, her teasing tone gone. She placed a hand gently on Y/N’s arm. "You’ll be fine. You have everything you need, including me. And Eris, of course."

Y/N nodded, appreciating the sentiment, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. But there was no turning back now, was there?

“Come on,” Samira said, pulling her gently away from the railing. “Let’s get you settled.”

A few minutes later, they were below deck, the steady rocking of the ship more noticeable here as they walked down the narrow corridors. Samira led her to a small, cozy room tucked in the corner, its walls lined with shelves of books and scattered trinkets. There was something surprisingly homely about it.

Samira gestured to the small armchair by the window. "This is my room," she said, sitting down across from Y/N.

Y/N sat, crossing her arms. "Wow, seems like you have settled in quite well. I didn’t know you were such a bookworm."

Samira grinned. "You’d be surprised. I had to learn a lot growing up. I mean, not just Montesere’s ways, but the ways of the outer world, too.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "The outer world?"

"Yes. The courts, the politics, the history, the fashion." Samira leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "And you, my dear, are going to need to learn all of it, starting with the Autumn Court."

Y/N froze. "Wait, what? The Autumn Court?" She shot Samira a look of disbelief. "Are you telling me you know everything about the Autumn Court?"

"Well, not everything." Samira smirked. "But I know enough."

Y/N was still recovering from the shock. "How the hell do you know so much about Autumn?"

Samira raised an eyebrow, her expression playful. "Oh, darling, I’m not just some girl from Montesere. I spent my childhood growing up alongside Princess Leone in the royal court. I’ve had lessons on everything—from history to politics to the little things like fashion and mannerisms. And since you’re about to step into their world, I thought it was time you got a little... introduction."

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. "You want to teach me about the Autumn Court?" she said, her voice a mix of amusement and dread. "Isn't that Eris' job? Though, I don't know why I am asking that, he will most definitely laugh in my face if I asked him to teach me something."

"Yes, Eris could probably explain it better," Samira said, shrugging. "But he’s busy, and besides, I know enough to help you get started. Plus," she grinned, "I don’t think he’d be half as entertaining as me."

Y/N sighed. "I’m starting to regret this already."

The next few hours were a blur of history lessons, fashion critiques, and endless discussions about politics that Y/N couldn’t quite keep up with. Samira went into detail about how the Autumn Court presented themselves—how they were proud, meticulous, and formal in every way. How every word, every glance, every gesture carried weight. Y/N tried to take it all in, but her brain was on overload.

“And remember,” Samira said, tapping a finger against her chin as she rifled through a stack of books, “Autumn doesn’t just dress to impress—they dress to intimidate. Think dark, rich colors—burgundy, deep green, dark gold—and always, always, carry yourself with confidence. No slouching, no hesitation."

Y/N had no idea how she was going to pull this off, but she nodded along, too tired to argue. Samira seemed relentless, though. She had them standing up, practicing the perfect posture—shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward—until Y/N was sure her back would break.

"Alright, now your hands," Samira said, lifting Y/N’s arm as if she were a doll. "They should always be held with purpose—either clasped in front of you, at your sides, or in your lap. None of this flailing nonsense."

"Flailing nonsense?" Y/N repeated, unable to suppress a giggle.

Samira shot her a playful look. "Yes, flailing nonsense. You can’t have any of that. You’re a princess, not a dancing windmill."

Y/N laughed. "I’m sure the Autumn Court will love me."

Samira didn’t stop there. They spent hours going over every little detail—how to speak to the other courtiers, how to greet them, how to respond to their questions, even how to walk properly in a gown. By the end, Y/N felt like she was going to drop from exhaustion, but Samira’s energy seemed endless.

"Alright," Samira said with a satisfied grin, leaning back in her chair. "Enough about Autumn Court for now. We’ve covered all the basics. Time to move on to the rest of Prythian."

Y/N’s face fell. "Wait, what?"

"Oh yes," Samira said with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "If you’re going to fool anyone into believing you’re a true princess, you’ve got to know the history, the politics, and the fashion of every court. Not just Autumn."

Y/N’s eyes widened. "Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all," Samira said, clearly enjoying herself. "You have to be prepared, Y/N. This is no joke. You’ll need to know the ins and outs of every court—from the Night Court to the Spring Court to the Winter Court. The more you know, the better."

"I’m done for today," Y/N said, standing up abruptly. "I’m going to go for a walk or something."

Samira chuckled. "Oh, you’re not escaping me that easily, princess."

Y/N grinned mischievously and dashed for the door.

"You’re not getting away that easily!" Samira shouted after her, but Y/N was already halfway down the hall, laughing as she ran.

Samira’s laughter echoed in the distance as Y/N sprinted up the stairs, not caring who saw her in her mad dash. She needed to clear her head—if she had to hear one more lesson on Autumn Court, she might lose it.

"Catch me tomorrow, Samira!" Y/N called over her shoulder, already feeling the weight of the world lifted for just a moment.

"Don’t think I won’t!" Samira’s voice floated behind her, full of mirth.

Y/N smiled, her heart lighter than it had been all day. At least she had someone to help her through this ridiculous journey.

She had barely made it halfway up the stairs before a firm grip on her arm yanked her back into the shadows. Her breath hitched, and before she could react, her body was pressed against the cool stone of the corridor wall. The scent of salt and musk filled her nose, and she tensed, ready to strike whoever had dared to sneak up on her.

But then she heard that voice—the voice she would recognize anywhere.

"Shh, quiet," Eris murmured, his face inches from hers. His hand still held her arm, steadying her, but his presence felt like a thousand pounds pressing against her chest. "Others are watching."

Y/N blinked, eyes narrowing as she processed his words. "What the hell are you doing, Eris?" she hissed, attempting to free herself from his grip, though it was futile. His hold was firm but not painful.

"Act like a loving wife and follow me," he ordered in that cool, commanding tone that sent a shiver up her spine. There was something almost casual about it. Like he expected her to obey without question.

Her breath hitched in frustration. "I’m not your wife, you know. Not for real. You can’t order me around like—"

"Shh," he repeated, his voice quieter now, a strange intensity behind it as his gaze flicked to the doorway of a nearby room. He motioned for her to follow him, and despite her irritation, she found herself falling in line, if only for the sake of avoiding suspicion.

They walked in silence down the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps echoing softly as they passed by several crew members, none of whom paid them any mind. Still, the weight of the situation hung between them—her feigned compliance and his silent command. She caught a glimpse of the curious glances of a few passing sailors, but she kept her expression neutral.

Once they reached the door to their shared quarters, Eris pushed it open, guiding her inside with a flick of his hand. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Y/N stepped away from him, immediately rolling her eyes.

She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, looks like I really have to sleep with you for quite a while now, huh?"

Eris leaned against the door with a quiet chuckle. "Yep. Sorry, princess. We both have to endure each other until our time is up." His eyes met hers for a brief moment, a strange amusement flickering there before he smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

Y/N couldn’t help but snort. "I’m so looking forward to this," she muttered under her breath. "Really."

Eris straightened up, his playful expression falling away, replaced with something closer to genuine curiosity. "Where were you for so long, anyway?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the suddenness of his question. She opened her mouth to respond but faltered as his expectant gaze pinned her in place. There was something oddly… insistent about the way he asked, as if he truly cared to know. It was such a stark contrast to the way he usually acted toward her.

"What? Why do you care?" she shot back, her defenses immediately going up. She was a little taken aback by his interest.

"Don't get all defensive on me," Eris said dryly, rolling his eyes. "I just asked."

Y/N stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he was getting at. Then, she sighed and reluctantly said, "I was with Samira. We were—"

"Learning about my court, I know," Eris interrupted, his tone dry. "I guessed as much."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Oh, so you’re spying on me now?"

Eris smirked, though his gaze was oddly calculating. "Not spying. Just paying attention." He paused before his smirk softened into something almost unreadable. "Did you even eat?"

Y/N blinked at the sudden change in his demeanor. "What?"

"I had food sent to Samira’s room for you two," Eris said, his eyes momentarily flicking away, almost as if he were avoiding her gaze.

Y/N snorted. "Why would you care?"

"I don't," he said quickly, too quickly. "I just thought you might have gotten distracted in all your learning. I figured you could use some food." He threw her a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. "Did you eat?"

"Yes, we ate," Y/N replied, giving him an incredulous look. "We were busy learning about your court, if you must know."

"Mm, I figured as much," Eris said with a small nod, rubbing his thumb against his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "And what did you learn?"

Y/N folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Well, Samira was making me memorize all kinds of nonsense about your court. You know, the usual—how to act, how to speak, the history, the fashion, the whole damn thing."

Eris leaned back slightly, letting out a low whistle. "Sounds exhausting."

"Yeah, you could say that." Y/N gave a small, sarcastic laugh. "I’m supposed to be your loving wife, remember? Apparently, it’s not enough that I’m faking it. I have to learn it too. History and everything."

Eris chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, if you want to fit in, you have to know what you’re doing. It’s not like they’re going to just take you in as you are."

"Not my fault your court is full of stuck-up snobs," Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

Eris' grin turned playful again. "That’s the spirit," he said, pushing off from the door and walking toward the window. He stood there for a moment, looking out over the sea before turning back to her. "I can teach you a few more things before we get there, if you’d like."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Like what? How to pretend to be a princess even better?"

"Precisely," he said with a teasing glint in his eye. "It’ll make the whole thing easier, I promise. You’d be surprised what knowing the right words, the right mannerisms, and the right… presence can do."

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Great. More lessons."

Eris smirked, taking a step closer to her. "Trust me, princess. You’re going to need them."

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but something about the way he said that made her uneasy. She met his gaze for a moment, her heartbeat quickening in her chest, though she wasn’t sure why. She quickly pushed the feeling away.

"Alright, enough of that," she said, trying to shake off the tension. "I’m tired. I think I’ve learned enough for one day."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Really? You’re not going to practice your posture one more time?"

She shot him a playful glare. "Not unless you want me to kill you in your sleep."

Eris chuckled, but the smile faded from his lips as he turned to the door. "Very well. I’ve got a meeting on deck with the officials. It’s late, and I should get going." He gave her a pointed look. "You should get changed."

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, their eyes met again, and for just a fleeting moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The tension between them, the shared space—everything felt… different.

Eris was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. "I’ll be back shortly."

She nodded, still staring at him for just a beat longer than necessary. And then, without another word, he walked out, leaving her alone in the room.

Y/N stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling in her chest. She let out a long breath and then, finally, moved to get ready for bed. She needed to rest, because tomorrow, she was going to face a new day—and who knew what Eris would throw at her next.

The rain had started softly, the kind that whispered rather than roared, and Y/N had been watching it from her cabin window, the rhythm of the droplets steadying her restless heart. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, gazing out at the endless sea. It was still a marvel to her, the sheer vastness of it—how it stretched so far it seemed to blend into the sky at the edges. She’d never seen anything like it in Montesere.

Her thoughts wandered, a mixture of excitement and trepidation for the unknown that lay ahead. But her musings were cut short by a sudden, sharp clang from somewhere above, startling her so hard she nearly toppled backward.

The sound echoed through the corridor, followed by a low, ominous rumble that sent her pulse racing. Her gaze snapped to the window, where a flicker of orange light caught her eye. She froze. For a moment, she thought she was imagining it. But then the scent of smoke seeped into the room, faint but unmistakable.

Fire.

Panic shot through her like lightning. She flung open her cabin door, her feet bare against the cold wood as she bolted down the narrow hallway. The sound of her heartbeat roared in her ears, mingling with the distant crackle of flames and the thundering rain above.

The moment she pushed open the hatch, the storm greeted her with full force. The rain was no longer soft or whispering; it was a torrential downpour, soaking her to the bone within seconds. The wind howled, tearing at her hair and whipping the thin fabric of her nightgown against her skin.

She stumbled onto the deck, blinking through the sheets of rain. Her vision blurred as she searched for the source of the fire, the flickering light she’d seen from her cabin window. And there it was—a lantern, dangling precariously from the ship’s railing, its flame stubbornly clinging to life despite the storm.

Her heart lurched as the wind picked up, causing the lantern to sway violently. She watched, frozen, as it snapped free from its chain and plummeted to the deck. The glass shattered, scattering embers onto a coiled rope that had been left nearby.

The flames caught instantly, crawling up the fibers of the rope like serpents. Smoke billowed into the air, black and acrid, and Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

She darted forward, her feet sliding on the slick wood as she reached for the nearest bucket. It was half-full of rainwater, heavy as she hoisted it into her arms. The flames were growing, licking hungrily at the surrounding ropes. Her breaths came in short gasps as she hurled the water onto the fire, the hiss of steam rising in response.

The fire sputtered but didn’t die entirely. She grabbed another bucket, her arms shaking as she poured more water over the flames. This time, the fire went out, leaving behind a smoldering mess of charred rope and embers.

She collapsed to her knees, her chest heaving as she coughed against the smoke. The rain was relentless, washing away the soot and ash as it soaked her hair and skin.

“Gods,” she muttered, dragging a trembling hand down her face. “That could’ve been worse.”

The adrenaline began to fade, leaving her cold and exhausted. The rain continued to pour, and she realized she was shivering, the chill sinking deep into her bones. She needed to get back inside, back to the warmth of her cabin.

But her disorientation and the chaos of the storm made her clumsy. She stumbled as she turned, her wet feet slipping against the slick deck. When she finally found the door that led below, she didn’t realize until it was too late that she had taken a wrong turn.

She pushed open the door, expecting to find the familiar corridor that led to her cabin. Instead, she was met with warmth, light, and a room full of startled gazes.

It took her a moment to process where she was. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment, ink, and candle smoke. A long table dominated the room, its polished surface strewn with maps and papers. Around it sat a group of men, their expressions ranging from surprise to amusement to...lust.

At the head of the table sat Eris.

The golden glow of the lanterns cast shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the faint sneer that tugged at his lips. His auburn hair was slightly ruffled, and his piercing amber eyes were fixed on her.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat.

The room fell silent, the quiet hum of conversation replaced by the soft patter of rain against the windows. She became painfully aware of her appearance—her black nightgown plastered to her body, leaving little to the imagination. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, droplets of water running down her skin.

Eris’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes roamed over her, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail. She felt exposed, as though he could see straight through her, past her soaked clothes and into the very core of her being.

Her skin prickled under the intensity of his stare. Her fingers tightened around the doorframe, her knees threatening to give out.

“I…” Her voice came out as a whisper, barely audible over the storm outside. “I’m so sorry.”

Still, he didn’t speak. His jaw tightened, and something dark flickered in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or something else she couldn’t name. The weight of his gaze was suffocating, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice trembling as she backed out of the room. She didn’t wait for a response, didn’t dare to look at anyone else. Turning on her heel, she fled down the hallway, her bare feet slipping against the wooden floor.

By the time she reached her cabin, her face was burning with shame. She slammed the door shut, pressing her back against it as she tried to catch her breath.

“What is wrong with you?” she muttered to herself, dragging her hands down her face. “Could you be any more of an idiot?”

Her mind replayed the scene in excruciating detail—the startled faces of the officials, the way their eyes lingered on her, and Eris’s unrelenting stare. She groaned, sinking onto the edge of her bed and burying her face in her hands.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside her cabin, the only storm that mattered was the one raging in her chest.

The storm outside howled, but the meeting within the lavishly furnished room of the Autumn Court’s ship was far from peaceful. Eris sat at the head of the table, the weight of the discussions hanging heavily in the air. The council members around him—each a self-important, puffed-up figure in their own right—argued endlessly about the next steps of the alliance with Montesere. It was as if each male present thought their own opinion carried the weight of the gods themselves.

Lord Ryver, the most outspoken of them all, leaned forward, a smug smile plastered across his face as he spoke. “The alliance is set, Prince Eris. We’ve secured the resources of Montesere, but now we must focus on their integration. Their military is strong, yes, but their royal customs? That’s where we need our focus. If we want to solidify this partnership, we need to ensure they understand the respect owed to us.”

Eris maintained his composure, though his patience was starting to fray. He had heard enough of this. His entire life had been spent managing these petty conversations, these pointless power struggles among men who thought they understood how the world worked but were blind to its true complexities.

“Yes, Lord Ryver,” Eris said coolly, “and I’m certain they’ll be very receptive to such lessons.”

A few chuckles escaped the mouths of the other men, a sound that made his teeth grit. He suppressed the urge to remind them that the real question wasn’t whether they would be receptive but whether they would be able to offer the value they claimed.

Lord Thorne, a bit more pragmatic but equally full of himself, shifted his weight in his chair. “We must discuss the future implications of the alliance. Montesere’s king has been known to play a careful game, and his ambitions may be far greater than our own. We cannot allow him to overstep.”

Another round of murmurs filled the room, most agreeing, but Lord Harkin, a close ally to Ryver, scoffed. “We’ve already secured our end. If anything, it’s his turn to prove himself. He owes us, and the best way to ensure loyalty is to give him no room to maneuver. I say we remind him of that. His wealth and military will be ours, but he needs to understand the price.”

A heated discussion broke out, and Eris fought the urge to stand and leave. If these rotten bastards didn’t realize they were discussing matters of state as if it were a children’s game, he would have no choice but to make them understand the real stakes. But he needed to let them bicker for a bit longer. The balance of power was delicate, and this alliance wasn’t the only thing he had to navigate.

Just as Lord Ryver raised his voice again, speaking of their “unwavering superiority,” a shift in the air caught Eris’s attention. His gaze darted to the door, but no one else seemed to notice the subtle change in the atmosphere. And then, the door swung open, and everything stopped.

Y/N walked into the room.

For a moment, it was as if the world had halted. Eris’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body tensing. The sight of her, drenched from the rain, her black nightgown clinging to her curves in a way that left nothing to the imagination, was enough to freeze the blood of any man in the room.

Her wet hair, glistening, framed her face and spilled down her back. She looked like a goddess, but in the most dangerous way. Eris’s chest constricted at the sight of her, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. His thoughts became muddled, his usual control slipping dangerously as he looked at her.

He quickly tried to regain composure, but his body betrayed him. His pants tightened as the sight of her, so beautiful, so untouchable, filled his senses. Her curves, her body, glistening with rain, held him captive. He forced his eyes to stay on hers, locking in a fierce stare, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But then, something worse happened. He noticed the looks of the other males in the room—the other seven.

Lord Ryver, Lord Harkin, and even Lord Thorne were staring at her, their eyes sliding over her body with dark, lecherous thoughts swirling in their minds. Eris could see it in their eyes, could almost hear the vile ideas they were thinking. It made his blood boil.

The anger coursed through him, hot and fierce, and he couldn’t contain it. How dare they look at her like that? She was his. His.

His jaw clenched, and he quickly scanned the room to see who else was watching. Lord Ryver, Harkin, and Thorne were the worst offenders—eyes glued to her wet form as if they couldn’t look away. The others, some more reserved, still let their gaze linger.

Eris’s mind was filled with rage. What was she doing here? Why was she wet? What could possibly have brought her into this room in such a state?

And then, as if on cue, she spoke.

A meek “Sorry” escaped her lips, her voice barely audible, and she turned to leave, her wet form still shimmering in the candlelight. The door clicked softly behind her, and for a long, pregnant moment, the room remained in absolute silence.

Eris remained frozen in place, staring at the space where she had been, his mind in a whirlwind. Every part of him wanted to chase after her, to demand an explanation. But he couldn’t lose control—not here, not with these males watching.

He waited, counting the seconds, until the silence became unbearable. Then, he spoke, his voice cutting through the air with the cold, hard edge of a blade.

“The next time any of you—” Eris’s voice was a sharp whisper that cut through the stunned silence, his gaze sweeping across the room, making each male shrink under his icy stare. “The next time any of you look at my wife like that, or stare at her for longer than three seconds, my face will be the last thing you see.”

His words were a deadly promise. His voice was venomous, each word dripping with a threat that made the room grow colder.

Lord Ryver shifted uncomfortably, his arrogance faltering as he tried to compose himself. Lord Thorne looked as if he might protest, but a single glance from Eris silenced him.

“You will respect her,” Eris continued, his voice dropping dangerously low. “If any of you so much as think of disrespecting her, I will make sure you regret it.”

His gaze landed on Lord Ryver once more, and a dangerous glint sparked in Eris’s eyes. “Understood?”

The males nodded, some looking paler than others, and all the bravado drained from them like water. They were afraid now.

Eris stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he leaned forward. “Good,” he said, his tone colder than the winter winds outside. “Now, back to business.”

And with that, he turned his attention back to the meeting, his mind still swirling with possessiveness and fury. He had to keep it together, maintain the façade. But his anger was still simmering, and he would deal with her later. The game wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

As the meeting resumed, the males remained uncomfortably silent, all too aware of the danger in Eris’s words. Eris sat back, his icy exterior returning, but inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—had irrevocably changed.

A knock on the door jolted her from her chaotic thoughts, her heart racing as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Y/N opened the door to find Samira standing there, her expression a mixture of worry and curiosity.

Samira’s gaze flickered over Y/N’s soaked figure, her hair dripping water onto the floor and her damp gown clinging to her skin. “I came as soon as I saw you,” Samira said, her voice soft yet urgent. “You were running back here, soaking wet, and I—”

“They all saw me,” Y/N interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Samira’s eyes. Her cheeks burned, and a knot tightened in her chest as the words left her mouth.

“What?” Samira asked, her brow furrowing.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her face with trembling hands, her frustration bubbling over. “They saw me! All of them! The lords, the courtiers… Gods, Samira, their eyes were on me, all of them! What did they think? How much of an embarrassment I must be! How much I’ve probably disappointed Montesere!”

Samira opened her mouth to respond, but Y/N wasn’t finished.

“They’ll think I’m unworthy,” Y/N continued, pacing the room as she ranted. “A failure! A mess! I already feel like I don’t belong, like I’m constantly falling short, and this—this just proves it! They’ll think I’m weak, incapable of holding my place at his side, and I—”

“Y/N.”

Samira’s gentle voice cut through her spiral, accompanied by the light pressure of her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N stopped pacing, her breaths coming fast and shallow as she finally turned to look at her friend.

Samira offered a small, reassuring smile, her dark eyes soft with understanding. “Breathe,” she said calmly. “Just breathe. It’s alright.”

Y/N shook her head, still frantic. “But it’s not! You didn’t see how they looked at me—”

“It’s their fault for looking,” Samira interrupted firmly. Her voice carried an edge of steel that Y/N hadn’t expected. “Not yours. You did nothing wrong.”

Y/N blinked at her, her chest still heaving with panic.

“You’re not a disappointment,” Samira continued, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re still learning, and that’s okay. You have a long way to go, but you’re stronger than you think. And anyone who judges you for something so insignificant isn’t worth your energy.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wanted to believe Samira’s words, but the weight of her embarrassment pressed down on her like a boulder.

“Come on,” Samira said, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her toward the adjoining washroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Inside, Samira began filling the tub with warm water, the soothing sound of running water filling the small space. She moved with calm efficiency, gathering towels and fragrant oils as she spoke softly to Y/N.

“Everything will be fine,” Samira said as she worked. “You’ve been through worse than this, haven’t you? A little water and a few stares won’t break you.”

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching Samira set up the bath. Her hands fidgeted with the damp fabric of her gown as she muttered, “But what if—”

“No ‘buts,’” Samira interrupted gently, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing smile. “Trust me. You’re overthinking it. Now, get in here.” She gestured toward the steaming bath with a playful nudge.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before finally shedding her wet gown and stepping into the tub. The warm water enveloped her, soothing her tense muscles and washing away the lingering chill.

Samira stayed by her side, chatting about lighter topics—gossip from Montesere, amusing memories from her past, and plans for the future. Her presence was a balm to Y/N’s frayed nerves, and Y/N found herself relaxing more with each passing moment.

By the time Y/N stepped out of the bath, dried off, and changed into a fresh nightgown, the tension in her chest had eased significantly. She settled onto the bed as Samira sat beside her, a jar of cream in her hands.

“Here,” Samira said, dipping her fingers into the cream and applying it to Y/N’s face with careful precision. “This will help with the redness.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh as Samira’s fingers moved gently across her skin. The soft, warm ambiance of the room was a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed her earlier.

The peace didn’t last long.

The door opened, and the warm, comforting atmosphere of the room was replaced by a cold, oppressive tension.

Eris stepped inside, his expression a mask of controlled fury. His golden eyes locked onto Y/N, and her breath caught in her throat.

Samira stiffened beside her, her hands freezing mid-motion. Slowly, she withdrew them, her gaze darting between Y/N and Eris.

“Out,” Eris said, his voice sharp and commanding.

Samira hesitated for only a moment before bowing her head. “Of course, prince.” She rose gracefully, offering Y/N a small, reassuring smile as she moved toward the door.

Once Samira had left and the door clicked shut behind her, Y/N was left alone with Eris. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

Her heart raced as she sat frozen on the bed, bracing herself for whatever was to come.

The room was so still it felt suffocating, the tension thicker than the storm clouds that had drenched her. Eris stood a few feet away, unmoving, yet his presence seemed to fill the entire space. His amber eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, unblinking as they bore into her. She could feel the heat of his fury, even though he hadn’t said a word yet.

“Look at me,” he finally commanded, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade.

Her head snapped up instantly, obeying the authority in his tone before she could even think. Her pulse raced as she met his gaze, the sheer intensity in his expression pinning her in place.

“What,” he began slowly, each word deliberate, “the hell were you doing outside in the rain?”

Y/N blinked at him, her mouth opening and closing as her thoughts scrambled. “I—I was—” she stammered, her voice cracking. Suddenly, her body moved on its own, standing up and placing the bed between them as though the piece of furniture could shield her from the storm brewing in him. “There was almost… fire. The lantern fell outside. No one was out there, no one saw it, but I did. I had to!”

His expression didn’t change, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She felt her cheeks heat as she kept babbling, the words pouring out in a frantic rush.

“It could’ve turned into something worse, Eris! The rain was coming down so hard, and I—I thought it was better to handle it myself instead of bothering anyone else, and—”

“That’s not your job,” he cut in, his tone clipped, cold, and cutting through her rambling like a blade.

“What?” she asked, startled by the interruption.

“It’s not your job to be doing those things,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. “There should’ve been workers outside to handle that.”

She gaped at him, disbelief mingling with her growing frustration. “Are you kidding me? It was pouring rain! Why would someone be outside?!” Her voice rose as she gestured wildly. “The lantern fell right in front of our window, I saw it, so I handled it! Why wouldn’t I—”

“You could’ve been hurt.”

The words were delivered in a tone slightly louder than before, sharp enough to silence her. Y/N froze, the air between them charged with something that made her stomach flip. His anger wasn’t just annoyance or frustration; it was something deeper.

Eris slowly began to move, his steps measured and deliberate as he circled the bed. His gaze never left hers, pinning her in place like a hawk closing in on its prey.

“What kind of a husband would I be,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “if I allowed you to keep hurting yourself?”

Her breath caught in her throat. His words were so unexpected, so layered with meaning, that she couldn’t immediately respond. Her eyes stayed locked on his, wide with shock as he stopped just a step away from her.

“You’re not my real husband,” she blurted out, her voice quieter than she intended but no less resolute.

Eris tilted his head slightly, his expression darkening. “And?”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “You don’t need to pretend here,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt at defiance.

His jaw ticked, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. For a moment, she thought he might lash out, but instead, his voice came out calm, eerily calm.

“All of them saw you,” he said, his tone softer now but no less intense.

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as his words sank in. She shook her head, her thoughts racing. “I—I didn’t mean to… I swear, I didn’t know where I was going, I wasn’t thinking, I just—”

Eris’s gaze softened suddenly, his features relaxing in a way that caught her completely off guard. Before she could process it, he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin.

“I know,” he murmured. “No need to apologize.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She stared at him, caught between disbelief and something she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N sighed, the weight of her embarrassment crashing down on her again. “They probably think so lowly of me now,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “They probably think I’m some kind of… whore.”

The word barely left her lips before Eris’s expression darkened once more, the possessiveness in his eyes blazing back to life.

“They won’t be thinking any of that,” he said firmly, his voice laced with steel. “I made sure of it.”

Her eyes widened, her shock evident as she searched his face for any sign of insincerity. “What… what do you mean?” she whispered.

“No one will ever look down on you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not while I’m here.”

He took another step closer, erasing the distance between them until they were almost touching. His golden eyes burned into hers, and Y/N found herself unable to look away.

“Just next time,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “come get me.”

She nodded slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, consuming, and she felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she didn’t fully understand.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the moment broke. Eris stepped back, the warmth of his body leaving her as he turned toward the washroom.

“I’m in dire need of a relaxing bath,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment. Without another glance, he disappeared into the washroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Y/N stood there in stunned silence, the room suddenly feeling too empty and too loud all at once. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she tried to process what had just happened, her mind replaying his words over and over.

Come get him? What did that even mean?

Her legs finally gave out, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the closed washroom door. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t know what to think—or how to feel.

The room was enveloped in darkness, the faint scent of candle wax lingering in the air. Y/N lay on the bed, her back turned towards the other side, her body stiff with the weight of thoughts pressing down on her. She wasn’t asleep—far from it. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of guilt, confusion, and dread. Her fingers nervously twisted the edge of the blanket as she replayed the events of the day over and over. The meeting. The stares. Eris’ voice, his touch. The fire in his eyes when he’d spoken to her, the way his gaze had seared through her.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. What had he thought of her? What had those other males thought of her? Shame mingled with her self-recrimination. A Monteserian "princess", soaked to the bone, stumbling into a room full of Autumn courtiers like a fool. What a sight she must have been.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but it eluded her. The ship creaked softly with the rhythm of the waves, the distant hum of the sea the only sound filling the silence—until his voice pierced through the darkness.

"I know you're awake."

Her body jolted, startled by how effortlessly he seemed to read her. She didn’t turn to face him, but her breathing hitched. For a long moment, the room was silent again, save for the creaks of the ship and the muffled lapping of water against the hull.

Finally, she sighed. “I can’t sleep,” she admitted quietly.

Another pause, and then, "What’s on your mind?"

She hesitated, not expecting such a question from him. It was easier to avoid the truth, so she deflected, “Tell me about the courts.”

She waited, expecting him to scoff or brush her off, perhaps even mock her for being naive. Instead, to her surprise, he answered.

Eris began speaking in his calm, measured tone, his voice cutting through the stillness like a warm blade. “The Summer Court. Hotheaded fools, most of them. They think the sun and their endless coastline make them untouchable. Tarquin’s a decent enough High Lord—idealistic and stubborn. He always has a way of seeing the good in people, even when there’s none to be found.”

Y/N turned slightly, her gaze now fixed on the window, the faint sliver of moonlight creeping through. She listened as Eris continued, painting a picture of the courts in his sharp, unfiltered way.

“The Spring Court? Tamlin’s a shadow of what he once was. After everything, his court barely functions. I’d be shocked if they made it through another decade without collapsing entirely. He spends most of his time drinking himself into oblivion.”

“Day Court,” he continued, his tone a touch more neutral, “is ruled by Helion, a High Lord who’s almost as arrogant as I am, though at least he’s clever. Knowledge is power there. You’d like their libraries, I think.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the casual compliment buried in his words.

“Winter is quiet,” he added, his voice softening slightly. “Kallias keeps to himself. They’re not involved in much unless it’s forced on them.”

“And the Night Court?” she asked hesitantly, her pulse quickening.

Eris hesitated, and she felt the weight of his silence as if he were carefully choosing his words. “The Night Court… Rhysand and his Inner Circle think they’re saviors of the realm. They’ve built themselves quite the empire, but alliances with them are… complicated. I don’t care for friendships or grand ideals, so we keep things civil. Barely.”

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as she anticipated his next words.

He spoke of multiple fae in the Night court, different people who served Rhysand. He spoke of his closest court too, of some "weird witch" named Amren, of Mor--though Y/N could feel the clear frustration and discomfort he had when speaking of her--of Feyre, Nesta and Elain, of Cassian and lastly....Azriel.

“Azriel,” he said at last, his tone dipping slightly. “He’s one of Rhysand’s spymasters. A shadow-singer. We don’t exactly… get along.”

The air seemed to grow heavier, Y/N biting her lip as she tried to maintain her composure.

“Why not?” she asked carefully, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eris exhaled, and she could feel the shift in his demeanor even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Maybe another day,” he said curtly, signaling the end of that topic.

She nodded, not wanting to push him further. But before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. “Tell me more about Azriel.”

Eris was silent, and she immediately regretted asking. But then, his voice cut through the darkness again, tinged with a slight edge of curiosity. “Why are you so interested in him?”

“I…” she scrambled for a response. “I’ve just heard of him before, that’s all.”

He didn’t press further, and she exhaled in relief as he began to speak again, though his tone was sharper now, as if discussing Azriel put him on edge. “He’s a dangerous male. A shadow-singer is not someone to underestimate, no matter how composed they seem. He’s loyal to Rhysand, as are the rest of that blasted court. But loyalty doesn’t make him any less insufferable.”

Y/N’s chest ached with every word, her emotions threatening to spill over. Eris had no idea. He had no idea that Azriel—the male he so clearly despised—was her half-brother.

“Will we… will we ever meet these people?” she finally asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Eris sighed. “Of course. They’re High Lords, Y/N. There will be gatherings, events, and plenty of occasions where you’ll have to meet them.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m not used to it… to any of this.”

Eris didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she thought he might brush her off. But then his voice came, steady and firm. “You’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t said softly, nor was it cruel. It was simply a statement, one that carried a strange sort of reassurance.

“Go to sleep,” he said after a moment, the finality in his voice clear.

She turned her head slightly, catching the faint silhouette of him lying on the bed, his back turned to her. The ship creaked again, the sound of the waves filling the room once more. Y/N stared out the window, her thoughts swirling as the moonlight cast its faint glow.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day overtook her, and she drifted off into a restless sleep, the weight of everything she had learned—and everything she still didn’t know—pressing down on her chest.

The sun was shining mercilessly today, as if it had no recollection of the thunderstorm that had raged through the night. The ship was steady underfoot, the waves lapping gently against the hull, their rhythm a far cry from last night’s chaos. Eris stood in his private office below deck, gazing out through a small circular window at the sparkling sea. The sunlight streamed in, making the wood-paneled walls appear golden, and yet his thoughts were far from serene.

The late-night conversation with Y/N refused to leave his mind. Her voice, low and hesitant, lingered like a melody. She had asked about the courts, about him. He hadn’t anticipated her curiosity about Azriel, nor the way it would unsettle him. She had hung on every word, her questions so deliberate, so measured, as though she were walking a fine line. Why? Why the sudden interest in a spymaster of the Night Court, someone she had likely never even met?

Eris scowled and turned away from the window, pacing the length of his cabin. Y/N was a puzzle he hadn’t yet figured out, and every moment he spent with her only added more pieces to the board. She had been quiet, introspective, but there was a storm brewing beneath that calm surface—he could feel it. And yet, despite his irritation at her elusiveness, he found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

A sharp knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. One of the ship’s servants stepped in, bowing slightly before addressing him. “The breakfast you wished for is ready, my prince. Princess Y/N has been informed and is already waiting for your arrival.”

Eris nodded curtly, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand. He lingered for a moment, running a hand through his hair before straightening his tunic. He told himself the breakfast was a necessity, part of the elaborate charade they were playing. A loving couple, deeply bonded, unshaken by the whispers of court politics or the tension that surrounded them.

That’s all it was, he told himself firmly. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind suggested otherwise.

He ascended the stairs to the deck, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding him. As his eyes adjusted, he scanned the ship, his gaze drifting toward the nose where the table had been set. And there she was.

For a moment, he froze.

Y/N stood by the railing, the sunlight dancing on her skin. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, its fabric flowing lightly in the sea breeze. The color—a soft, muted blue—brought out the brightness of her eyes, and the cut was both practical and feminine, perfectly suited for a day on the ship. Her hair had been swept up into an intricate style, with loose strands framing her face, giving her a radiant, almost ethereal appearance.

She turned as she heard him approach, and when her gaze met his, she smiled. The kind of smile that could disarm anyone.

Before he could gather his thoughts, she crossed the deck and took his hand, her touch warm and soft. “Come on,” she said, her voice light, almost playful. She led him to the table, her fingers curling around his in a way that felt… deliberate. He quickly realized why. The servants were still arranging the last of the breakfast, their eyes flickering toward the two of them.

She’s putting on a show, he realized, schooling his expression into a neutral mask.

When they reached the table, Y/N released his hand, and the servants stepped back, bowing slightly before disappearing below deck.

“I’m glad you made us sit far away,” Y/N said as she settled into her seat. “I don’t like too many eyes on me.”

Eris raised a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I needed to make sure we were having a proper couple’s breakfast,” he said, his tone laced with mild sarcasm, “not putting on a performance for the entire crew.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she shook her head, taking a sip of water.

They ate in relative quiet for a while, the hum of the ship and the cries of distant seabirds filling the space between them. Eventually, Eris broke the silence. “Your hairstyle is… different today.”

Y/N looked up, startled, and her fingers brushed against the intricate twists and braids. “You like it?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Samira put a lot of effort into it this morning.”

Eris found himself smiling faintly, though he quickly masked it. “She did a fine job,” he said smoothly.

Y/N’s smile widened, and they fell into easy conversation, a surprising shift from the tension of the night before. She was more animated today, more relaxed, and it was… disarming.

Then, out of nowhere, she mentioned a name.

Tideholt.

Eris froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “What did you say?”

“When Samira was helping me get ready,” Y/N repeated, her voice soft, “she mentioned a harbor city we’ll be passing today. I’d like to go there.”

Eris’ brows furrowed. “Why?”

Y/N sighed, setting her utensils down. “I haven’t seen the world beyond Montesere, Eris. Please. Just one stop. We’ll look around, that’s all.”

He frowned, considering her request. “That place is not exactly…” He trailed off, unsure how to explain the harbor’s reputation without alarming her. “It’s not the kind of place you wander around unguarded.”

“I’ll have you with me, won’t I?” she countered, her tone hopeful.

Eris stared at her, torn between irritation and something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine. I’ll inform Captain Lorrick to dock there for a few hours. We could use some extra supplies anyway.”

Y/N’s face lit up, her smile so bright it momentarily stunned him. For a fleeting moment, she looked… unreal. Like something out of a dream.

He quickly recollected himself, clearing his throat as he looked away. “Now eat your food,” he said gruffly.

She grinned, but to his relief, didn’t press further. They ate the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need words. But Eris’ mind was far from quiet.

Y/N was a mystery. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to unravel it.

The excitement had been building within Y/N all morning as the ship neared Tideholt, the harbor city that Samira had mentioned earlier. She stood at the edge of the ship, her hands gripping the railing as she gazed out at the sprawling city on the horizon. The waters seemed to part around them as the ship drew closer, and she couldn’t help the flutter of anticipation that bubbled in her chest.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the sea and the city itself. Tideholt was nestled against the coastline, its buildings rising in layers up the cliffs, with narrow streets winding through them. The air was fresh with the salty scent of the sea and the promise of new experiences. The ships that dotted the harbor looked like giant, sturdy beasts, each one with its own tale to tell. The city’s shores were lined with docks, bustling with activity, as merchants, sailors, and traders shouted and bargained. She could feel the energy of the place already, and it sent a thrill through her veins.

Beside her, Samira stood, her eyes wide in wonder. “Gods,” she murmured, “how unusual it is to be so far from home.”

Y/N nodded, her voice quiet as she responded. “Yes. It feels… different. Like there’s more to see than just what’s in Montesere.”

Samira grinned, her eyes glinting with excitement. “I’ve heard rumors about places like this—about the lives lived outside our walls. I can’t wait to see what it’s really like.”

Y/N felt a lightness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. A sense of possibility, a break from the heaviness of her past and the role she had been cast into. For just a moment, it felt like she could breathe again. A life beyond her duty and the expectations that followed her.

Their chatter was cut short as one of the sailors called out from the ship, his voice booming over the clamor of the busy harbor. “Docking in five minutes! Get ready!”

The announcement broke the spell of excitement, and Samira turned to Y/N, her grin widening. “Come on,” she said eagerly, “let’s see what this harbor city is like, shall we?”

Y/N laughed, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Yes. Let’s.”

The ship creaked and groaned as it made its way closer to the dock, the sailors expertly maneuvering it into place. The air was filled with the scent of brine, and Y/N could hear the distant calls of gulls above them, their wings sweeping in arcs over the water. As the ship slowed to a stop, she couldn’t contain the rush of emotion that surged within her. They had finally arrived.

Once the ship was docked, Y/N stepped forward, her eyes scanning the bustling port city before her. Her heart raced with anticipation. There was so much to take in—the clatter of wooden carts being loaded with goods, the colorful flags fluttering in the breeze, and the multitude of people going about their business in all manner of dress. She caught glimpses of people from all walks of life: sailors with weather-beaten faces, merchants shouting their wares, women in brightly colored dresses, and children darting through the crowd. The city had an energy, a pulse, that she had never experienced before.

She took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill her lungs, the cool breeze tugging at her hair. This place was nothing like Montesere, and it made her feel small and infinite at the same time.

Eris stepped beside her, his presence grounding her. He said nothing, but his eyes scanned the scene in front of them, his sharp gaze missing nothing.

When the gangplank was lowered, Y/N walked forward, her body filled with an unfamiliar sense of purpose. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this city, but it was more than she’d imagined. The smell of fresh fish, the sounds of the sea, the clinking of coins—it all felt so alive.

She could hear Samira’s light footsteps behind them, but she kept her eyes forward, her focus solely on the way the city stretched before her. There was a quiet thrill building in her chest, something that had been dormant for too long. A desire to explore, to see things for herself, beyond the rigid confines of her life back home.

As she stepped off the ship, she felt a tug at her hand. She turned to see Eris, his grip firm around her wrist. His hand tightened as he pulled her slightly closer, and Y/N found herself staring up at him in confusion.

“Eris?” she whispered, her voice laced with uncertainty.

He leaned in slightly, his expression stern. “Trust me when I say this place is too dangerous,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t argue with me about it here.” His tone held an authority that made her spine stiffen.

Y/N felt a flicker of surprise, followed by a flash of uncertainty. The city, with all its vibrancy, was suddenly not what she had thought it would be. Dangerous? The thought left her unsettled, but she didn’t argue. She simply nodded.

Eris didn’t look back at her, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he spoke to the rest of the court. “Do as I tell you,” he ordered. “Stay out of trouble. If you’re given orders, follow them. We need supplies, but don’t stray far.”

A few guards and courtiers dispersed at his command, but Samira stayed close, walking a few paces behind them with another guard. Y/N wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse, but it was clear that Eris was making sure no one got too close to her, not even Samira.

Eris’s hand remained around her wrist, and she found herself walking beside him, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cobbled streets as they moved deeper into the city. Her heart pounded, not with excitement, but with the awareness of how tightly he was controlling the situation.

The streets of Tideholt were narrow, winding between buildings that were both charming and worn by time. There were people everywhere—fishermen hauling nets, children running with baskets, vendors selling goods from carts. The sea was always nearby, its waves crashing against the dock, reminding Y/N of the vastness of the world she had yet to discover.

But as she looked at Eris beside her, his eyes sharp and focused, she understood that this place, for all its beauty, was not a safe haven. It was a place of danger, a place where anything could happen—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever Eris was trying to shield her from.

As they walked, Eris kept his grip on her wrist, his fingers warm and firm around her skin. He was a shield, a protector in his own way. She had never been given this much attention, never had someone so clearly watch over her every move. It felt suffocating and comforting all at once.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Eris spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay close,” he said. “Don’t wander off.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight as she followed him deeper into the unknown.

The sounds of the city filled his ears—the bustling chatter of vendors, the calls of the street performers, and the rhythmic clatter of feet on cobblestones—but none of it could drown out the sound of her laughter, high and free. Her steps were light as she skipped from stall to stall, her fingers brushing the goods on display, her face alight with the thrill of the moment. It was as though the entire city was a playground, and she was the most carefree child in it.

She had started out quietly, but as they ventured further into Tideholt, she transformed. Eris watched, a faint smirk pulling at his lips, as Y/N darted from one vendor to another, her eyes gleaming with excitement. It was contagious, her energy making the mundane appear magical. She had no care for the grandeur of the world she was used to—this was real, this was spontaneous, and it was nothing like Montesere.

“I need this,” she said suddenly, holding up a set of beautifully beaded earrings from a street vendor. They shimmered in the sunlight, vibrant and full of life, the colors dancing as if they had a mind of their own. She turned to Samira, who was walking beside them, her expression equal parts amused and fond. “What do you think?”

Samira raised an eyebrow. “They’re… bold.”

Y/N laughed, spinning on her heel. “I think I’ll take them,” she said, and without waiting for another word, she handed over the coin and accepted the jewelry from the vendor, her fingers eagerly fastening the earrings in place.

Eris, walking a few paces behind, couldn’t help but watch her, his sharp eyes observing her every move. There was something about the way she moved—free and untethered—that stirred a strange feeling in him. The carefree joy on her face, the way she interacted with the people around her, the way she laughed—it was all so unfamiliar.

It wasn’t the female he had come to know—the one who carried the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders. It was a different side of her, one that hadn’t been given room to breathe in the shadow of responsibility. And for a moment, he found himself almost… envious.

But he quickly pushed that aside. He wasn’t here for distractions. They had a mission, a purpose. Still, the sound of her laugh—the brightness of it—tugged at something inside him. It unsettled him, the way it made him forget the sharp edges of his own reality.

“You’re going to bankrupt me at this rate,” he said, his voice dry but playful as Y/N ran ahead once more, her laughter ringing through the air. She had spotted a cart selling brightly colored silk scarves, and without hesitation, she was already making her way to it.

She grinned over her shoulder at him, her face a picture of mischief. “Not if you’re the one who keeps paying for them, my dear husband,” she teased, and then turned her attention back to the scarves.

Eris’ smirk deepened, his thoughts momentarily clouded by the way she referred to him. There was something about the way she said it, as if the pretense had become second nature to her, that made his chest tighten. It was all just a game to her, wasn’t it? Just another act in a long string of performances. But the realization stung a little more than he expected.

He pushed the feeling away, focusing instead on the bright colors and chaos around them.

After buying yet another trinket—a tiny carved wooden horse that Y/N insisted was “too cute to pass up”—she stopped to catch her breath. Samira was shaking her head, half-smiling, as she gave the small bags to the guard.

“Can’t you go five minutes without finding something to buy?” Samira teased.

Y/N grinned. “I’m enjoying myself. Don’t ruin it.”

And with that, she darted off again, this time pulling Eris along with her, much to his surprise. He could hardly keep up as she raced toward a juggler performing for a small crowd. She was utterly caught up in the spectacle, eyes wide with wonder as the juggler tossed knives into the air, spinning them in graceful arcs.

Eris couldn’t help but chuckle, his amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

But then, as if the universe itself had decided to break the spell, everything shifted in an instant.

A scream rang out.

It cut through the laughter of the crowd, jolting everyone into a stunned silence. The juggler froze midair, the knives clattering to the ground. Y/N’s hand flew to her chest, her breath catching in shock as she looked around, trying to identify the source of the scream.

The air grew heavy, the vibrant atmosphere of the market turning to a tense stillness. Eris immediately moved closer, his body instinctively shielding Y/N as his eyes scanned the crowd. Something was wrong.

Another scream—this time more guttural, more panicked.

Then, chaos erupted.

A group of masked figures appeared from the shadows of the surrounding alleyways, their faces obscured by dark cloths. They moved with a terrifying precision, slicing through the crowd, their eyes scanning every face, every person in their path. Eris’ hand went to the hilt of his blade, his movements swift and deliberate as he pulled Y/N behind him. The guard beside Samira did the same.

“Stay close,” he growled, his voice low and urgent.

Y/N’s pulse raced as she clutched his arm, her eyes wide. “What’s happening?” she whispered, fear beginning to creep into her voice.

Before Eris could answer, the masked figures began to charge toward them. The air was filled with the sound of feet pounding against the cobblestones, and then one of them—a tall man with a scar running across his cheek—lunged toward Eris, blade drawn.

Eris was quicker.

In one smooth motion, he drew his own blade and blocked the strike, his face hardening with cold determination. But as he fought off the attacker, another figure appeared behind him, aiming a dagger at Y/N. She barely had time to react before she felt a cold hand grab her wrist, yanking her away.

“No!” Eris shouted, turning just in time to see her being pulled into the chaos.

Adrenaline surged through him as he rushed forward, but the crowd was too thick, the figures too numerous. He caught a glimpse of Samira and the guard somewhere, fighting off another group of attackers. He fought his way toward Y/N, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. This wasn’t just a random attack—this was a carefully orchestrated ambush.

Y/N’s voice reached him, frantic. “Eris!”

But before he could reach her, another figure appeared, cutting off his path.

And then, with a sharp crack of sound, the world around them seemed to twist.

An explosion.

The ground shook beneath their feet, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Smoke and debris filled the air, blocking his vision. He coughed, his eyes stinging from the sudden cloud of dust.

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Taglist: @batboyslutt @k-godling @littowl @jaybbygrl @kissesfromnovalie @talesofadragon @tele86 @annamariereads16 @circe143 @yukimaniac @babypeapoddd @darkbloodsly @hauntedstudentobservationus

#acotar #eris acotar #acotar fluff #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris fluff #eris x you #azriel acotar

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harryspet · 4 years ago

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cement walls | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles

[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to https://jamesbrnes.tumblr.com/]

In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you.

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy

main masterlist

word count: 3.3k

Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.

Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space.

That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe.

When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again.

It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter.

The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”

He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously.

“W-Where did you go?”

He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”

“You’ve never been gone this long.”

“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”

“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair.

“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them.

He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.”

You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair.

When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”

“You mean your therapist?”

“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making.

“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet.

“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”

“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”

You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room.

“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees.

You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it.

“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”

“You’re curious today.”

“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”

“If you’re going to be like this today-”

“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”

Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch.

“Then why …”

He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”

He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”

Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”

You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”

Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon.

You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent.

“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance.

He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”

“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily.

You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”

“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”

“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”

His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed.

He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared.

He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”

Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp.

“That’s it …”

This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud.

“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you.

“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”

8 months later …

You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved.

You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time.

As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?”

You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand.

“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”

“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”

“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”

You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box.

“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”

You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”

“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line.

You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”

He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”

You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child.

You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night.

You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor.

“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”

The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, “What-What happened?”

“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek.

“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”

“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”

You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”

“But-”

“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”

“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”

“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp.

Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from.

Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying.

“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”

“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”

You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning.

“Okay, thank you, Doc.”

“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”

“Are we free to leave?”

The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”

“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating.

The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”

Say something.

If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?

As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”

“Bucky, I really did think-”

“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”

You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-

“Y/N?”

You perked up, “Yes?”

“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”

hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!

#dark fic #dark fics #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #stockholm syndrome #bucky barnes x black!reader #dark!bucky

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ficninja · 4 years ago

Text

A Beautiful Night Indeed

So I did a thing...

I wrote a Penelope and Colin fic! I haven't written anything in so long that I seriously surprised myself. I just couldn't help it, I've become so obsessed with them. I wanted to post it here for anyone interested in reading. It's an extended scene I guess, a wish fulfillment if you will, of what I wanted to happen after their dance at the Vauxhall Ball in episode 01 "Diamond of the first water."

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Summary: Colin is protective of Penelope after Cressida spills her drink on her. Colin doesn't want to let go of Penelope's hand after their dance. Colin is confused about his feelings and Anthony calls him out on it. Colin wants more than anything for Penelope to trust him

A Beautiful Night Indeed

It was a beautiful night. Penelope had arrived to the Vauxhall ball a half an hour early with her Father and sisters. They were just in time to see the lighting of all the torches surrounding the expansive gardens right as the Sun began to hang low in the ever darkening sky…

Standing near the orchestra dining area, watching the dancing begin, Penelope looked around avoiding being spotted by one of her sisters. She was surprised when she heard Colin say her pet name.

“Pen…” Colin approached Penelope. He never had trouble finding her in a crowd. He was constantly captivated by her stunning red hair. Her hair beckoned him like a glowing fire, his eyes always drawn to the beauty of the permanent sunset. She was standing alone expectantly, he surmised she was looking for someone.

“Colin…” Penelope sighed adorably which made him smile to himself. She had the cutest voice, he had always thought so.

“I did not know you would be here.” Penelope was pleasantly surprised to see him. His height towering as he walked closer, making her feel small and delicate by comparison.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Colin teased, causing her to smile. She was never able to resist this pull he had on her.

“Have you seen Miss Thompson?” He inquired. Miss Thompson had many suitors and Colin supposed he should try to get to know Penelope’s cousin a bit more, lest his interest wane.

“She is ill.” Penelope informed him, a bit dispassionately, her smile faltering. “My mamá had to stay home with her.” She continued. “Papá had to chaperone.”

Colin looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Featherington enjoying a refreshment and in an animated discussion, completely unobservant of his youngest daughter.

Colin turned back to Penelope giving her his complete attention, the inquiry into her cousin’s whereabouts fleeting. He did not like that she was vulnerable without her Father’s gaze on her.

“I’m quite enjoying the fact that he is here.” Penelope’s smile picked back up and Colin recalled that she enjoyed spending time with her father… away from her neglectful mother.

Mrs. Featherington should be there as well, Colin thought to himself. This was Penelope’s debut season. What mother, wouldn’t accompany a daughter as sweet and innocent as Penelope everywhere?

“Mamá would never allow me to wear a dress like this.” Penelope’s smile brightened the darkened garden even more. “Not yellow enough, I think.” She giggled self-deprecatingly.

Colin had taken note of how especially lovely Penelope looked that night. Although it was hard for Penelope to look bad, given her cute face and enchanting hair, her mother seemed to be trying to detract from her looks with every yellow frock she forced on her. He would acknowledge that according to Eloise having a nice face and pleasant hair should not be considered an accomplishment. But given the lack of genteel stock in Penelope’s lineage, it was indeed a glowing accomplishment in contrast to her older sisters, at least according to Colin’s preferences.

Before Colin could genuinely compliment Penelope’s dress, Cressida Cowper appeared and interrupted their conversation. Accompanied by her entourage of ninnies, they pushed between he and Penelope.

“Mr. Bridgerton...” Cressida’s voice really grated on Colin’s nerves. “I believe you owe me a dance this evening. And I only have one more space remaining on my card at present.”

“How convenient.” Penelope observed, her words so softly spoken that Colin almost… almost didn’t hear her. But her tremulous voice carried over to Colin. It was like a melody… a song only for him in contrast to Cressida’s.

Cressida thrust her dance card out to her side and simultaneously spilled her drink on the front of Penelope’s dress. “Penelope, I did not see you there!” Cressida feigned shock.

Penelope gasped in sheer mortification, turning away from them as the blast of cold liquid slid down her chest. She looked down to check her dress, thanking heaven that the drink was clear and would not stain. Penelope felt heat color her cheeks and her eyes began to water. She was so proud of the way she looked that night and to have this happen to her at Cressida’s hands and in the presence of Colin no less, she thought she would pass out from the humiliation.

Colin glared at Cressida. How dare she attempt to injure Penelope’s person with that drink and right in front of him. He thought to himself, if Cressida was not a Lady and barely one at that… His anger peaked at the mental image of what he would do. His nostrils flared at her before he turned his attention back to Penelope.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper.” Colin’s voice barely remained courteous. “I am to escort Miss Featherington, to the floor.” His decided rejection of Cressida caused Penelope to turn around, astonished.

Penelope’s blue eyes, glossy with embarrassment, met his. Colin had a fierce look on his face. Determined he was, not to allow anyone to mistreat her in his presence. He reached for Penelope's gloved hand, slipping her tiny feminine satin-clad fingers through his larger masculine ones, as he glared once again at Cressida before escorting Penelope away and onto the dance floor.

Colin spun Penelope into position just as the spirited dance started. His fingers glided across the brocade material along her upper back. Her soft tresses skimmed across the back of his hand… This was one of Colin’s favorite dances and he smiled down at her excitedly. Penelope was an amazing partner. The embarrassment caused by Cressida eased from her eyes and she matched his enthusiam for the dance. The eager smile on her face as he spun her around caused an ache to invade inside his chest. The protectiveness he felt moments ago seemed to increase ten fold and everything inside of him wanted that smile to remain on her face for the rest of her life.

When the dance ended, Colin found himself irrationally thinking of a reason to keep Penelope's hand in his. An illogical impulse, given it would be improper since he was not officially courting her. The reminder to himself, that he was not in fact courting Penelope Featherington, but had expressed an interest in her distant cousin caused him to be inexplicably confused and annoyed with himself. The annoyance he felt was upsetting to him and he clenched his jaw in vexation. Just as he was about to convince himself to let her go, the announcement began…

“Ladies and Gentleman, a most extraordinary event is about to take place.

Right this way!

Come! Come!”

Colin looked down at Penelope just as she gazed her startled blue eyes up at him. Just looking in her eyes soothed away his baffling aggravation. He smiled at her mischievously as he pulled her along side him continuing to hold her hand. Definitely not letting go of her now.

Penelope was delighted that Colin wanted to continue their time together at the ball. The way he looked at her during their dance… she knew it was just a result of his protective nature. She believed he was genuinely outraged by Cressida’s behavior toward her. But his continued attention made her heart soar, even more than usual, just from being around him. A sort of magic seemed to envelop them, almost as if Colin was finally seeing her as a woman and not like a little sister. Penelope worried that the let down from reality settling around her again would break her heart irreparably.

“Come along, Pen. We must not miss this most extraordinary event!” Colin continued to grin at her as he pulled Penelope along.

Colin spotted an open section near the edge of the crowd and stopped there. It was a bit darker there, secluded away from the torches, and he couldn’t make out everyone around them. He tugged Penelope a bit closer in front of him as more people surrounded them.

He noticed that she trembled a bit, so he leaned down near her ear. “Are you ok, Pen?”

Penelope was looking forward to the show, whatever this would be, but she had never been quite comfortable with the dark or with surprises.

Penelope felt Colin squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. His blue eyes warm with concern. “Yes, I’m ok. It is just a bit scary is all.”

Colin smiled at her then and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything will be ok. I’m right here. I would not let anything bad happen to you.” And she knew, she could feel that Colin meant it.

“Do you trust me, Pen?” He asked, holding her gaze fervently.

Looking into his eyes so close to hers was intoxicating and Penelope began to feel a little unsteady on her feet. She swayed a little as she answered him. “Y- Yes, o-of course I trust you, Colin.”

Colin noticed that she stuttered a bit, but she seemed to get her bearings.

“Good.” Penelope’s assurance that she trusted him, did something to his insides and Colin felt unbalanced.

The announcement picked up again…

“It is with great privilege I present Vauxhall’s newest spectacle of illumination. Feast your eyes above and allow all that is radiant to overwhelm you!”

Penelope squeezed Colin’s hand just as the lights illuminated all at once above them. They were surrounded by the glass bulbs! The brilliance was magnificent. The sudden amazement caused Penelope to step back into Colin. His chest cradled her head and his other hand, that wasn’t holding hers, grabbed her waist to steady her.

The MC continued,

“Wonderful Light! Thank you!”

“Its alright.” Colin murmured softly into her hair. She smelled like orange blossoms. Colin could not keep himself from breathing her in. He wondered if it was just her hair or if she smelled of the fragrant flower all over her body. The hand holding her waist moved unconsciously to the ends of her rosy hair, his fingers delicately caressed the softness of her strawberry locks. Colin’s mind was muddled, he closed his eyes in contentment, memorizing the texture of her hair. He couldn’t think straight. He had to stop himself from dropping a kiss to the top of her head, the need to be a comfort to her began to outweigh his reason.

Penelope thought she imagined Colin’s fingers in her hair. The closeness of his body to hers was heady�� She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the warmth of him behind her. She inhaled at the pleasure of her current situation. She’d never been this close to Colin. The electrifying heat of his body pressed against hers was causing her to be incoherent. She began to breathe in shallow pants, her breaths coming quickly. Unsettled by her reaction to him, she moved away from him, letting go of his hand.

Colin felt the immediate loss of the warmth radiating from Penelope’s body pressed along his front. When she dropped his hand and moved away from him, he felt the grimace on his face and heard the growl in his throat. Desperate to have Penelope near again, he grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.

“Pen…” Colin spoke her name, not knowing what else to say, but also needing to stop her retreat from him.

Penelope looked down at her hand grasped in Colin’s, realizing that her glove had slipped off. “Oh…” was all she could say. The moment felt unmistakably intimate, him holding her hand again, this time bare.

“I’m sorry.” Colin apologized when he realized he’d unintentionally removed Penelope’s satin glove. “Allow me…” He bent down and retrieved her glove from the grass, her bare hand remained cradled in his the entire time.

His expression mischievous again, as he rose to his full height. “I guess I’m to keep it as a favour now.” Colin teased Penelope. He needed to take away the self-consciousness he saw in her eyes.

“Are you going off to battle then?” Penelope teased Colin back, unable to resist his ever present charm. She could think of no other time a lady’s favour was given.

“Well, there seems to be a fight for refreshments. And as a Gentleman, I will gladly enter the fray to procure something to drink for you, Pen.” Colin folded Penelope’s glove and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket finally letting her hand go reluctantly.

Colin looked down at Penelope adoringly. He couldn’t help himself, stepping closer to her, he whispered. “Wish me luck in battle?”

Penelope knew Colin was teasing her again, but he made her breathless. “Good luck.” She smiled and then she bit her bottom lip. “Promise me that you will return it me?” She looked pointedly to his chest where her glove rested inside his pocket.

Colin could only focus on the lushness of her mouth as she bit her full bottom lip, he was beginning to feel dizzy like he was spinning… spinning out of control. “You trust me, don’t you, Penelope?”

“Of course, Colin.” Penelope didn’t recognize her own voice. The huskiness of it, she couldn’t control as Colin inched even closer to her.

Colin bent down, next to her ear and whispered. “Good girl. Stay right here for me. I’ll be back.” He leaned in close enough that he smelled her intoxicating hair once more before he pulled himself away from Penelope and then walked toward the refreshments.

As Penelope watched as Colin walked away, his tall regal form a feast for her eyes, she noticed his brother Anthony walk up to him.

Colin was taking deep breaths to regain his composure as he walked away from Penelope. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Anthony with a stern expression on his face. He followed Anthony’s gaze to Penelope.

“She’s so young Colin… you need to try harder to conceal your… baser interests. Stop touching her so much. Don’t forget yourself. Penelope is a proper lady.” Anthony scolded Colin.

“I was not… I did not… for you to imply…” Colin couldn’t even form a sentence in his defense as twisted as his insides felt by his brother’s insinuations.

“Imply?” Anthony continued. “I saw. Your hand on her waist, apart from dancing. Your hand in her hair. The caress of her bare hand… and this could have been in the view of half the Ton. It is a wonder her father did not come looking for her and witness these improprieties or I would be making arrangements for you to court Penelope Featherington properly!" Anthony’s eyebrows raised in admonishment. “… and not expressing interest in her distant cousin.” The distorted expression on Anthony’s face spoke to how he felt about Colin’s fleeting interest in Miss Thompson.

“It will be a miracle if this is not in Whistledown tomorrow and I am not forced to have to make an offer on your behalf myself.” Anthony continued to reprimand Colin.

“Anthony, I would never do anything to scandalize Penelope!” Colin declared passionately. He could not even conceive of hurting her that way. He found that the thought of Anthony having to make an offer for Penelope’s hand on his behalf did not scare him and that lack of apprehension caused him uncertainty.

“I know that you would not, Colin. And I am not suggesting that you are. I am saying that your feelings... unacknowledged... for Penelope are maybe getting in the way of your… sensibilities where she is concerned.” Anthony pointed out.

“My feelings… for Penelope?” Colin was so confused. Penelope was his friend. He had not meant to be improper with her in any way. But he had begun to acknowledge in his mind and body that Penelope was becoming a woman… in every way. His reactions to her may very well be putting her in danger from him.

“Yes, Colin. I have eyes. I see you clear as day. You may not be ready to admit to or are even aware of how you feel about her. You do have feelings for her, not just emotionally, but now physically as well and you need to think about what you really want long term. Penelope has… developed a lush womanly form. Her curves are tempting to you, I see. Miss Thompson may be more mature and more able to handle your… physical interests right now, where as you would have to wait a while for Penelope to be ready for that.”

“Stop! Stop right now, Anthony. Speaking about Penelope in this way is improper and I will not engage with you any further on this.” Colin found his fists were balled up and his anger, at his brother was a tangible thing in his mouth… a vileness that he could taste. Anthony’s criticism of how he had handled Penelope and even more his comments on how her body had developed the curves of a woman, the kind of woman that Colin realized he was irresistibly drawn to, would be his undoing.

“See, you did not even mention Miss Thompson. Your irascible temper with regard to any perceived slight of Penelope…” Anthony spoke to Colin’s unexpressed feelings for Penelope, again. “All of that emotion… that is about Penelope Featherington.”

Colin clenched his jaw tightly and rolled his eyes at the truth of his brother’s perceptions. He balled his fists against his side as well.

“I am not telling you what to do, so do not look at me like that. I am merely pointing out that if you keep carrying on like this over Penelope and you keep finding yourself behaving in the manner in which you have tonight, you will not be in a position to make a decision. It will have been made for you. Does she not deserve for you to truly choose her? And loathe that I am of a match between you and Miss Thompson, I do not want you to have to contend with hurting her either.”

Colin took a deep breath before addressing his brother again. “Penelope is dear to me… so dear that I - I treasure her and our friendship. I would never hurt her intentionally, brother. That is all I’m willing to say on the matter. I do not wish to discuss Penelope with you any further here like she is the topic of some common gossip. I shall escort her back to her father, after the fireworks are over. Colin declared and then walked off, feeling immensely frustrated.

“See that you do, Colin.” Anthony called after him as Colin disappeared.

Colin turned from the refreshment table and spotted Penelope immediately again. His eyes seeking her siren hair. She had remained just as he had asked her to. A good girl for him she was indeed.

When Colin finally returned to her with refreshments, Penelope’s bright expectant blue eyes found his troubled ones.

“Is everything ok, Colin?” Penelope asked softly. “I saw you speaking with your brother…”

Colin smiled at her slightly as she drank her lemonade. He could not help it. She was so sweet, the most kind-hearted person he had ever known aside from his mother. Her concern mollified him. His anxiousness over his conversation with Anthony slipped away easily in her presence.

“Penelope, your dress is lovely tonight. I wanted to tell you that before Cressida showed up.” Colin could not help it, even after being cautioned by Anthony of being improper with her, he inched closer to her and took her bare hand in his again.

“Thank you, Colin.” Penelope sighed. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers made her breathless again. It felt almost as if Colin did not realize what he was doing.

“May I ask, how it came to be this rather fetching shade of pink and not yellow?” Colin teased her again. His eyes sparkling at her. They now looked the exact opposite of when he arrived with their drinks.

“Well, I was allowed to choose the color for myself, rather than mamá.” Penelope admitted. Her cheeks brightened to a beautiful shade of pink.

“You did well, Pen. It looks exquisite against your sun-fire hair and makes your porcelain skin look like the finest silk…” Colin looked down at her feeling inebriated, his voice betraying his ardor. His stomach flipped when he noticed her licking her pink lips before she spoke his name on a melodic sigh, again.

“Colin…” Penelope couldn’t believe he had actually described her that way… passionately… his voice filled with longing.

Colin raised Penelope’s hand to his lips, just as the music started for the next dance. He kissed the back of her fingers of her bare hand and Penelope was startled at the softness of his lips on her. She did not know what to say… She could not form words. All the breath had left her.

“One more dance, Pen? Before the night is over.” Colin requested. His eyes never leaving hers and her hand securely grasped in his. He didn’t have an excuse for his continued behavior with her and he found he didn’t care to continue to contemplate.

“I’ve never danced this one… in public.” Penelope admitted. She was so unnerved by Colin’s continued attention she would have agreed to anything at that point.

Colin smiled down at her, playfully. “Do you trust me, Pen?”

“Of course, Colin.” She assured him again on a sigh. “But this one is… what if I miss a step?” She was doubting herself and her ability to actually move after Colin’s kiss on her fingers.

“Penelope Featherington, you are an amazing dancer. You will be fine. He pulled her closer to the dance floor, but waited for her acquiescence. Colin looked her over as if he couldn’t bear for her to refuse him. "Please do me the honor?”

“Yes, Colin.” She smiled brightly at him. Her smile more luminescent than the globes of artificial light, her eyes sparkled more than the fireworks display. She even rivaled the stars that night as he spun her around and around on the dance floor.

It was a beautiful night indeed.

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glowingbadger · 4 years ago

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Thirsty Libra anon here again. Thank you. My thirst is both sated and reawakened. (Guess you could say I had an Awakening? lol sorry.) If I may, may I request a nsfw fic with him? Maybe a "together for the first time" type thing? Thank you so much in advance!

Thirsty Libra Anon, blessed are you among Anons xD I actually do have a reader x Libra fic on AO3! It's one of my older ones, so there's a few things about it I don't 100% stand by, but the link is here if you do wanna check it out. If I had a dime for every time I wrote a fake prayer to a dragon goddess for priest-kink smut I'd have two dimes, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that that's happened twice

In the meantime, let's play around with something new for our beautiful priest~

Libra (FE: Awakening) x GN Reader - first time

NSFW 18+

It's easy to get carried away chatting with Libra these days. It had taken you both long enough to make your mutual attraction known to one another, and longer still for your relationship to regain the easy, comfortable familiarity it had prior to confessing. So it was an immense relief that today had felt so natural. You'd passed the afternoon in energetic conversation, trading ideas about some of the more fascinating and obscure scriptures he'd introduced you to (they never talk about the really cool stuff in sermons).

And because you'd had such a lovely time together, you couldn't risk letting him know that a part of you wanted more.

Of course simply being with him was absolute bliss- you'd never thought you could be so lucky. He's a private person, and so elegant, ethereal even. It's hard not to feel downright unworthy sometimes. So thoughts of those battle-calloused hands across your body, and golden hair spilled across your pillow would simply have to be stowed away in the back corners of your mind.

Now, the sun is setting outside the confines of Libra's tent among the encampment, and you've no doubt that he would find it improper for you to stay past dark.

"Well then, I should leave you be for the night I suppose. Wouldn't want people to talk!" it's an awkward joke at best, as you straighten your clothes and prepare to leave, "not- not that you would have any interest, I mean-" you add, refusing to meet his gaze.

Libra speaks your name cautiously, and when you convince yourself to look up at his eyes, he's leaning towards you and his brow is deeply furrowed.

"Have I... caused you to believe that I don't desire you?" His hand gently brushes your cheek, which you can already feel warming up.

"Well, uh, not you per say, but I just assumed that-"

With both hands now woven into your hair, Libra pulls you close and kisses you deeply. Your breath hitches in your throat. His tongue pushes between your lips. You feel dizzy, fuzzy, like you're floating, but he doesn't let up until you're breathless and your heart is pounding against your chest.

"Please, Y/N," he murmurs, his breath hot on your skin, "Allow me to repent for this grave oversight. You should never have cause to doubt that I long for you."

It takes you a moment for your mind to catch up, but once it does, you say,

"What... kind of repentance did you have in mind?"

Without a word, he directs you onto your back on his bedroll, and the moment he's above you, he's kissing you again with that same new fire. Your arms drape across his shoulders and his strong hands wrap around to your back and pull you flush against his body. Sometimes you forget how hard and muscular his body really is underneath those conservative robes, but you can hardly think of anything else when the friction between you two is so wonderfully impassioned.

"Libra..." you whisper out his name when he releases your lips to focus his instead at your neck.

"Can you forgive me, my love?" he says against your neck, his lips and teeth grazing your skin as he speaks, "I am prepared to worship each and every part of you that I adore if it will convince you of my earnest desires."

"I'm already pretty convinced, but don't let me stop you," you mutter, the words hardly registering in your own mind. All you can think of is those beautifully soft lips on your skin and his touch down your back. He sets to work removing your clothes; he's methodical about it, taking time to observe and openly admire every inch of flesh bared to him. His long eyelashes almost hide the hunger in his gaze, but not quite. You've never seen that expression on him before, and you're transfixed. Somehow, an edge of passion only highlights the gentle beauty of his features.

With clothing discarded, you're finally exposed to each other in full. Your eyes meet for a moment, but you can't remain idle for long. When he kisses you now, you can tell he's done holding back. You never knew he had this in him, but the way his tongue pulses against you as he nips tender love-bites to your skin is rousing something in you as well.

He spends a good amount of time at your chest. With one of his large hands cupping the outer contour on one side, his lips tend to the hardened nipple on the other. You whimper out his name, your back arches up to him as he sucks and nibbles at the little nub. He groans with raw and unabashed lust, circling it with the tip of his tongue. Then, his kisses trail lower, never easing in their intensity as he travels a path down the center of your torso. You feel him rutting against your inner thigh, his manhood warm and stiff as he says, low and husky,

"Naga forgive me, your body is gorgeous, Y/N."

Before you can make a coherent reply, you feel his fingers at your entrance, massaging gently into you. You inhale sharply, barely restraining your hips that desperately want to buck towards him. One digit pushes inside of you, with the second soon to follow. He maintains a slow pace at first, but his fingers curl up towards him and mercilessly stimulate your most sensitive nerves. Tension winds in your gut already. You're panting softly, and he comes to nuzzle the crook of your neck.

"Relax, my love, allow me to show you the extent of my affections."

"What... what about you...?" You gasp out, leaning into him with the golden curtain of his hair beside you.

"For tonight, do me the honor of allowing me to focus on your pleasure."

He's using that firm-but-kind tone that you recognize from the rare occasions he delivers public sermons, and so you know there will be no arguing this point with him. Instead, you kiss his lips tenderly, and then softly say as his fingers work within you,

"Then please, Libra... please take me for real..."

He takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. Then, his fingers slowly pull out from you, and he positions himself between your thighs. You gaze up at him- at the fair skin punctuated by scars, old and new. At wisened eyes that worship you in the mere act of looking. You give him a shy smile and brush his hair behind his ear.

Libra takes a breath, and you feel the head of his cock pressing to your opening. You've been a bit impatient with him, urging him to enter you without much ceremony or foreplay; still, he's achingly hard, and you can feel his length throb at the mere contact of his body against yours.

Then, he's pushing into you. Your first thought is that his manhood is incredibly thick- a deceptively impressive symbol of masculinity to pair with such a lovely face. A whimper of both need and fulfillment escapes you as he spreads you apart around his girth, driving into you until his hips are held firmly against you. You both take a breath in unison, then, he his lips are on yours once more as his body begins to move above you. The veins up his shaft grind along your inner walls, only enhancing the incredible sensation of his cock pushing and pulling against you, and with each thrust of his hips, the thick head presses to your deepest point.

Libra makes love like in a salacious novel- the kinds of novels that court ladies claim to enjoy for their romances, rather than for their intensely lurid contents. He's tender, focused, passionate, very nearly obsessed. Your thighs squeeze around him, subconsciously urging him closer to you, deeper within you. The entirety of your bodies are joined, intertwined, and you know your climax won't be long.

"I have wanted this since the moment I understood my feelings for you," he whispers to you, a ragged edge to his voice as the pace of his thrusts picks up, "I never dared to dream that you wanted me in this way as well... Nngh..." you reflexively clench around him in response to his words, and he groans deeply, his head dipping down onto the pillow beside you. Your hands cling to his sturdy body, your thighs lift around him just a bit, allowing him to fuck you more deeply.

"Of course I... want you, Libra..." you half-moan, "I adore you... mm! You feel so good-!" His cock throbs and swells, and you feel a tingling rush up your spine. A shudder wracks your body as you cry out his name. You couldn't have expected that this would cause him to snap his hips towards you with far more force than before. "Yes-!" you gasp out, your eyes dazed and unfocused as he chases his own pleasure at last. One hand steadies him beside you while the other wraps under you, holding you to him so firmly that you're practically lifted up from the bedroll. He has incredible stamina, fucking you hard and deep until your eyes roll back and your thighs tremble around him.

And then at last, he holds himself deep within you, only shifting his hips enough to rub the head of his cock against your core. Then, he pulls away. You hear him gasp out your name, and you feel the heat of his release as he spills across your inner thighs. He lets out a truly remarkable amount- which you distantly think that you should have expected, since it's not likely he allows himself this pleasure very often. By the time he pushes himself up from you, panting softly as he regains himself, he poured out all of his cum onto you, though his cock is still twitching in the wake of his climax.

Once more, he holds your hand in his and places a kiss to the back,

"I dearly hope that you can forgive me, my love."

You give him a tired, yet obviously skeptical grin,

"For what?"

"For giving you any cause to believe that I would not desire you. In truth," he goes on, his eyes leveling on yours, "I would have you each and every evening, were you amenable."

Your eyebrows raise, and the pink flush returns to your face.

"That... could be arranged, perhaps."

#libra fire emblem #libra x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem smut #x reader #not sfw writing #feh

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 12

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: slight-NSFW

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Twelve: Day Dreams, Night Terrors

The kiss was short �� sweet – merely a brush of their lips before Elain pulled back an inch to meet his eye. Lucien was not even sure it had happened. He had felt a pressure on his mouth but the notion that Elain Archeron had just kissed him seemed to go through one ear and out the other.

Surely not. Surely not.

But she was holding onto his shoulders, looking up at him with such an excited concern that he couldn’t help but feel himself give way. Elain had kissed him, and thus finally, some formality broke down between them. Lucien bowed his head and caught her lips before the moment could be ruined by their own stupidity.

He felt the slight intake of breath his mate took before he brushed his lips against her own, pressing into her with a bit more firmness than she had. The arm resting by his side came up to brush against her delicate jaw, his other hand bracing himself on the tree behind her.

After the first brush, he proceeded with a second, then a third. Then, he was pushing his lips against hers in their first, full-bodied kiss. As he did so, he pressed his fingers against her jaw, tilting her head up and back so that he may have fuller access.

Kissing her was thoughtless. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and as their lips began to move against one another, Lucien had the feeling that he had done this a thousand times before.

Nothing she did was lost on him. The way her hands shyly dragged from his shoulders to his chest, nor how he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The way she still had to stand some-what on her tiptoes to reach him. Each delicate noise that left her mouth, the fragile gasps to the high hums – he noticed it all.

He could’ve done it forever. He could’ve stayed within this moment till the stars went out one by one and the world was nothing but dust and ash. The warmth spreading through his chest was golden and warm, and felt like the light of a thousand suns and Lucien swore he could feel pure love racing through his veins.

Except in some way, it was stronger than love. It was the feeling of the glory of fate – the feeling of finding a home.

Lucien was just about to take his tongue and taste her when he felt the kiss come to a natural end. Even though he’d never admit it, even after that chaste embrace, he felt as though he needed a break. There was so much emotion raging within him as he reached a peak of happiness he had not experienced in a long time, perhaps ever.

Slowly, torturously, he pulled his lips back as he rested his forehead against hers. In the kiss, their bodies had moved closer together, and he felt her leg slotted between his own, their chests touching as well as their souls.

For a few laboured moments, all that could be heard between them were their heavy, shared breaths. At least until Lucien couldn’t take it any longer and pulling back, he looked at her, as it was his favourite thing to do. His mate kept her eyes closed as she seemed to focus on her breath, her hands having come to gently hold the wrist of the one hand holding her jaw.

She was everything to him. From the first time, he’d laid eyes on her to this moment, to every one in between. She was everything to him, she was his purpose.

His breath. His sword. His home. His heart.

Though this exhilarated him to some degree he was not necessarily scared, for he knew as long as he ventured down this path with her hand in his, it would all make perfect sense.

Finally, Elain opened her eyes and looked at him with curiosity and hope. The timid doe coming to trust the crafty fox.

“Will you still gift me the moon?” Lucien laughed, loud and bright, before quickly lowering his head to catch her lips with his.

“I will bring you every star in the sky,” Lucien murmured against her lips. “And if they do not shine bright enough for you, then I shall kill the Gods themselves for having displeased you.”

He heard Elain’s delicate gasp of breath and continued to kiss her for several more moments, unable to stop himself as he slowly got drunk on the feeling of her touch and the sound of her sighs. Slowly and with remorse, Lucien pulled back a second time, both his hands now against her jaw, holding her to himself.

Elain took several breaths, simply looking at him before she sighed, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Lucien said plainly, lowering his head.

“But-” Elain protested.

“Just shut up.”

This time Lucien bent and pressed his lips against the soft, golden plain of her neck. A small sound escaped his mate, something akin to a whimper and he groaned in response as his body reacted to the sound.

Slowly, so that his mate would feel every touch of his lips, Lucien left a trail of burning kisses downwards to the sweetest, most intimate crook of her neck, where he burrowed his nose and lips. He kissed her there for several moments, feeling her squirm and listening to her whimper before he sucked the skin taut. There was some feral, beastly part of himself that wanted nothing more than to mark her perfect skin, not in a way that hurt, but just enough that he may lay claim to her – that he may mark her as his.

“Lucien-” Elain gasped, her hands burrowing themselves in his hair. Lucien continued, kissing along her shoulder to the strap of her dress.

His instinct was to slowly drop the strap off her shoulder so that it would leave a trail of goosebumps, but he hesitated when he reached the fabric. If Lucien began to undress Elain, in the state they were both in, there would be no stopping them.

“We should stop.” Lucien finally concluded, placing one final kiss on her collarbone before standing straight and yet, not moving away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elain flushed, her eyes skirting away from his. A jolt of anger coursed through him. Because she shouldn’t be apologising, and he knew exactly who was to blame for her feeling like she must.

“Don’t apologise, ‘Lainy,” Lucien husked, reaching and taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his mouth. She turned back and watched him with wide eyes. “I’m only stopping because-” Lucien took her hand and wrapped it around the side of his neck. “-when I have you I want you lain out on silken sheets in a heavily warded room, in which no one can hear the things I’ll do to you, nor the filthy things I say.”

Elain seemed to only stare at him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and alarmed and yet, he could read the excitement there.

“Oh…right…okay…” Elain eventually stuttered, and a beautiful blush began across her cheeks and nose.

Lucien had another urge to kiss her.

“Do you, um, do you want to talk about…” Lucien said, slightly bashfully. Again, he thought of Tamlin poking fun at him at the sight of Lucien tripping on his tongue around a female. It was unheard of, he was the silver-tongued fox, infamous for making others blush and yet there never being a crack in his mask – literally.

“No,” Elain surprised Lucien by shaking her head, “We’ve both said a lot today I think…I think this is just nice for now.” Lucien nodded.

“I’m sorry, by the way. Some of the things I said…”

“Me too…”

They shared another look and Lucien, again, really wanted to kiss her. Though really, that wasn’t a new feeling.

They stood like that for a while, merely just absorbing the moment – the sound of the water gushing in the river, the melodies of the numerous birds, hidden in the trees. The feeling of one another, of the fingers and thumbs brushing strands of hair away from foreheads and skirting along the columns of throats.

It was like existing within a melody, or a beautiful painting. Together, in this moment, they were art – who could blame them for wanting to stay a little while.

Eventually, Lucien stepped back, but not without extending his hand which Elain took immediately. Together, they walked to the lip of the water, their intertwined fingers swinging shyly between them. They were both so elated over the small staple of intimacy and yet, it was unusual and foreign, at least for now.

“We got a little, ahem, distracted but that was some seriously good winnowing.” Lucien smiled down at her, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

“Really?” The excitement in her eyes made his heart ache.

“Yes! Of course, it normally takes fae years to accomplish winnowing a few feet but, I assumed you’d be more skilled than most.”

“Really…I…I wouldn’t think anyone thought that of me,” Elain said shyly, looking down at the water where little orange fish were swimming in circles deep below the furious gushing.

“I’ve always thought that of you,” Lucien said in a stern enough voice that no one could mistake his words for anything but the truth. And it was, true, he’d always known of her talent.

He’d always seen her, even when he could not speak to her.

Just then, Elain’s stomach growled loudly, and an adorably mortified expression came onto her features as her free hand slapped over her stomach.

“Oh, my Mother!” She gasped, her cheeks flushing even redder.

Lucien just tilted his head back laughing. The fact Elain still cared about appearing as a Lady even after their rather improper embrace against a tree trunk delighted him to no end.

“Hungry?” Lucien grinned down at her, to which she slapped at his chest playfully.

“Breakfast was a long time ago,” she huffed, though she was still smiling. Suddenly, Lucien remembered something. Turning away from the lip of the water, Lucien looked back to the tree in which they had just been braced against.

“What?” Elain hummed.

“I just want to check something,” Lucien tugged her along. Now that he had her hand in hers, he wasn’t going to dare let go.

After a moment of quiet assessment, Lucien realised he was right. The tree – their tree – bore fruit. They were little round purple baubles, about the size of Elain’s fist. The tree was centuries old, and the lowest fruit was far too far for Elain, but Lucien could reach it no problem.

Reaching up, Lucien plucked two before looking at the fruit in his hand.

“I’m not sure if they’re safe to eat,” he murmured, “I’ll have one first and then, y’know, if I’m still alive it should be okay.” Elain just tipped her head back and laughed.

“Lucien…they’re figs!” Lucien merely glared down at the suspicious fruit. Elain just laughed loudly. “They’re fine, I promise.”

Elain smiled; she took one of the figs out of his hand. She then removed the hand that was holding Lucien’s, he went to complain until she turned and began to slide her hand into his pocket. It was Lucien’s turn for his breath to catch in his throat as her small hand rubbed against his upper thigh. His mouth went dry, and he had absolutely no idea what was happening until she pulled his small knife out of his pocket, the one he’d been using on the apple.

She proceeded to carve into the Fig, cutting it into several pieces. Pocketing the knife, she held out a slice to Lucien. For a moment, Lucien was stunned that she would offer him a piece before feeding herself, and then he was shocked at the fact she was offering him food. Despite his heart galloping into an elevated pace, Lucien knew that Elain’s mind must’ve skipped the whole ‘food means an accepted bond’ fae custom. It was only when Lucien did not immediately take the fruit that Elain’s eyes widened as she realised what she was doing.

“I’d rather not,” Lucien said quickly, with a surprising amount of ease, “Human food is barely tolerable as it is, I can’t imagine their fruit is much better.”

Elain nodded at him, her eyes still on the piece of fruit. And just like that they were once more confronted by the endless complications of their relationship, the weight that had been placed on them before they’d even had a chance to properly introduce themselves.

Lucien shoved it all to the side. He didn’t care. Elain had kissed him today – that was enough to give him enough hope for a lifetime.

“Eat,” he nodded at the fruit. There was something about his mate being hungry that was making his skin itch, it was like an overwhelming urge to go out hunting or something despite there being a warm meal waiting for them the minute they got back.

It was a need to provide and care for, and Lucien didn’t mind it one bit.

He watched as she wrapped her lips around the inner part of the fruit which was pink with yellow seeds. Slowly, she both bit and sucked on the fruit, the flesh coming away easily into her mouth. Lucien swallowed thickly, his body responding eagerly to the sight of her fruit-stained lips.

Elain met his eye instinctively, as though she could hear his thoughts, and he watched as her eyes lapped into a darker shade of brown.

“We should head back,” Lucien husked, in a pained voice.

“Good idea,” she said, dryly.

***

Lucien had winnowed the two of them back to the front door, holding her hand the entire time. It was only when they entered the foyer did Lucien agree to part with her as Elain wished to change her dress before they ate.

After she’d disappeared upstairs he’d stood waiting by the window with a glass of whiskey, trying to not picture Elain pulling off her white dress, nor her getting into the bath and lathering herself in soap and running a damp rag across her skin.

She’d looked better today, he’d decided. Out there in the sun, throwing her hair into a bun as she focused and worked. The sweat making her skin glisten, the heat making her cheeks flush. He’d practically watched as she browned slightly over the course of their lesson, freckles popping up in clusters along her arms.

Gods, she was beautiful.

It seemed to be the most recurring thought in his mind these days. But she truly was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, and she only seemed to grow in splendour. There were times where he wished he were a painter, just so he may be able to capture her essence. When something exists as magnificent as that, sometimes all you want to do is reflect it in your own creations.

Lucien was impatient as he stood, but merely because everything around him now reminded him of her.

Looking out the window he could see the gardens with her Honeysuckle mountains near the stone walls. The breeze made him think of how her hair danced in the wind. The distant birdsong reminded him of her laugh. The warmth of the sun on his skin made him think of her hands, splayed across his chest.

Then there was the kiss.

Gods, that kiss.

He hadn’t been expecting it, to say the least. Whilst he knew that there remained an ocean between them in terms of complications, the waters didn’t look so murky anymore. They were bright and clear, and through the glassy aquamarine, Lucien could see all kinds of thriving life.

The bond was satiated and strangely, silent between his ribs. Where there used to be an agonising, dull tautness was now a feeling of relaxation and comfort. He could still feel the string, leading upwards to where Elain – his mate – was changing, but it seemed to float in the air rather than bind.

Footsteps pushed Lucien to down his whiskey, setting the glass on the windowsill as he turned back to watch his mate enter the room.

Gods, something had changed between them, because she had never looked so impossibly lovely.

The dress was an amethyst cream chiffon that floated around her, making her look as though she had truly descended from the heavens. Her hair was unleashed, slightly wild with the head.

He was right, she was tanner, and there were a few freckles now clustered across her nose. Gods she was…

She was…

“Perfect,” he hadn’t meant to say it, and it truly only came out as a whisper, but Elain’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink as her fingers began to twist together in front of her dress.

Lucien cleared his throat before walking over to their usual dining table, Elain followed close behind and Lucien promptly pulled back a chair for her to sit. Elain gave him a shy, pleased look as she sank into the chair, to which Lucien winked with a smirk as he circled and sat opposite her.

Within seconds food was placed in front of them with a bustle of maids and cooks. Lucien felt Elain watching him as he avidly chatted with several of the maids and even the chef. He’d taken a liking to the residents, and he couldn’t help but feel rather in his element as he smiled and made friendly chat.

Though, he truly wished to only talk to one person and eventually, his patience ran out as he softly sent the maids away and turned to his mate.

“Sorry, I often get carried away with talking,” he said, rather shyly as he dug in.

“No, I…I like it,” her voice was butter and honey, and it was making him melt.

“Well, the skill of having a loose jaw is not always a blessing, at least not in the fae world.” He grinned before tapping his ruined cheek with the handle of his fork. Elain’s brows furrowed slightly, as her eyes drifted across his scar and eye.

Not for the first time, Lucien felt a wave of self-consciousness run over him. It was strange to think that he himself was not yet used to having the scar, given that shortly after he received it, Aramantha had bound that horrid mask to his face.

He guessed he was over it now but, being fae is difficult for this exact reason. As Lucien had only been scared for a small portion of his life and before that he’d had centuries of being known as the most handsome son of Autumn. What he had lacked in martial prospects he had made up for in aesthetic. With his consistently tan skin and healthy, long hair, he’d caught the eye of many fae. Where all his brothers were pale with soft features, Lucien was tall and dark with a large, sharp nose and strong, angled brows.

Before Aramantha or Tamlin, or even Jes, Lucien had often been the talk of the Court. For he had rarely taken lovers, and many wondered what it would take for him to wish to bed you.

Though, after the tragedy of Jes, in his early days as Spring Emissary, he had been going through fae at a pace that some said put Helion to shame. His days of being compared to the High Lord of Day continued into his scarred days and even when he had the mask – but by then, sex was not merely an extension of being the most handsome son of Autumn, but rather Lucien trying to prove to himself that he had not changed.

That he was still…him.

“Do you like it?” Lucien said after a few moments of silence. He was expecting Elain’s eyes to shyly flick away from where they’d been tracing his scar, but instead, she merely tilted her head.

“Liking scars seems a difficult concept,” she merely responded.

“Oh? How so?”

“I do not wish for such an awful thing to have happened to you,” Elain pushed a few things around on her plate, “But, and maybe it’s terrible of me, I can’t deny that I think your scar makes you look indefinitely more handsome.”

That…he was not expecting,

“Oh?” He husked after a second. Elain paused her eating to meet him dead in the eye.

“You look magical,” was all she said, and Lucien felt his heart shudder. “Like everything I shouldn’t want…but everything that I ultimately do….”

A heavy silence fell between them, both of them pausing in their eating as they made eye contact. It was almost as though now that they had kissed, the pre-existing tension was now insufferable.

As Lucien looked at her, the world fell away, and he was utterly consumed by the sight of her. Again, all he could think about were the things he wanted to do with her. Images flooded his mind, of taking her up against the wall, of spreading her on this table. He was aching just to feel her skin against his, to feel her warmth and to hear her sighs. He wanted nothing more than to hike up her endless skirts and find purchase in her folds. The idea of slipping a finger into her had his pants uncomfortably tight.

“Spring?” Elain said, breaking Lucien’s chain of thought and causing his mind to temporarily stutter.

“Spring – oh – spring, yes,” Lucien took a long drink, “I’m leaving to head to Spring, and I’d like for you to join me.”

“I’d love to,” she said without hesitation. Lucien merely grinned at her as he nodded, turning back to his food.

“You’ll like spring, I just know it.”

***

It was a vision, or a dream.

The experience was familiar by this point – the feeling of the world being tangible and yet distant, as though everything were real but you, as the viewer, were merely a ghost. Elain could feel her presence there in the world, taking up a certain kind of space, and yet she felt forgotten by the atoms themselves.

It was a dark room, cold with the overwhelming air of loneliness. Elain could see walls made of wood and stone with windows up high near the ceiling which allowed columns of moonlight to pass through. These bands of silver shadows gave way to very little. There were some general shapes of furniture, wooden chairs and bookshelves, but the large stone columns that ran the length of the room and made everything seem smaller and more complicated.

She was sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, and before her was a stone pillar that had been cut in half so that it came to her waist. It seemed to be an altar, and two beams of moonlight met from opposite sides of the room to light it up, the stone almost glowing. Upon the rocky surface was a single copper pin which, upon further inspection, Elain recognised as a hairpin.

Footsteps made her jerk with shock, the first sign of life in the seemingly dead building. The steps came from behind and echoed through the empty room, ringing back into her ears. Elain went to turn around but found that her body would not obey her, whether this was due to it being a vision or the fact she had been bound, she could not tell.

The footsteps neared in a slow, torturous pace that was full of cockiness – a person who knew they had power. Elain could only sit and listen as they approached, eyes roving over the room, trying to take in all that she could see.

Eventually, the being came to a stop directly behind her and Elain felt the thrumming magic that came from their presence. The magic’s strength washed over her like a fog, and it felt strangely familiar.

“As I was saying,” the being spoke. The voice was low, deeper than any Elain had heard before, even the Illyrians did not compare.

“The mind, particularly one like yours, is a weapon. It simply begs to be sharped…wielded…” The voice spoke with the casual certainty of an aged teacher. Elain, for some reason, was still focused on the hairpin. It was old, older than her and older than any building she’d ever stepped foot in – she suspected it was even older than Prythian.

“You have no idea what you can do, and it’s so frustrating to see the way peasants of this world have treated you.”

Elain’s mind was running a mile a minute. This could not be a dream then; it must be a vision – an insight of what was to come. But where was she? Who was this person? How did she get here and how would she get out?

“They’ve taught you so many terribly inaccurate things, much of our time together will be spent undoing the poisoned seeds they sowed.” Elain didn’t know who this ‘they’ was that the voice spoke of, but his voice had somehow turned even more deadly and frightening at their mention.

Elain then heard the dragging of wood on stone before there was the clatter of a chair being settled behind her to which she heard the being flop into with a gust of wind – or rather, dust.

It was then that hands came around her and ran from her upper arms down to her hands.

Looking down, Elain saw skin of truest grey with white scars that were reminiscent of lightning covering every inch of exposed skin. The being’s arms were powerful, around three times the size of Elain’s now seemingly dainty, pale hands. The being then wrapped his own hands around hers, his chest pressing into her back. He then tucked his head into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

“Your mind is not broken, Elain,” the being whispered in her ear. His voice now dark, seductive, full of a thousand promises she knew he’d do good on. “I often wonder how you must feel, to go from feeling so worthless to discovering you’re the most valuable being to exist, perhaps ever.” Another deep inhale paused the creature in his speech. “When the world discovers just who you are, there will be people carving themselves up in the streets for a single hair from your head. They will make relics of your clothes. Holidays out of your achievements.”

The hands began to intertwine with hers, grey meeting ivory, twisting like a wreath.

“A part of you has always known.” He was amused, and she felt his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You knew you there was something so much bigger than any of them running through your blood, that’s why you let them play without you, why you stayed in the gardens where no one could worry. But you’re more powerful than that silly little High Lord of stars and his mutant wife – your sister, of course. The only one who ever came close was that other sister of yours, Lady Death, though she foolishly bargained her gift, she will come to reject that choice, though, you already knew that.”

Elain did. Nesta would never admit to herself, but Elain had seen Nesta glaring at the mirror, wondering how much of a mutant she was to wish she’d kept the flames of ice. Because getting rid of her powers hadn’t gotten rid of the shadow of death that had marred her since birth. In the end, Nesta had run from the darkest part of herself rather than harnessing it.

“I won’t let you make the same mistake.” His voice was abruptly inside her head, a painful invasion, a reminder of what he could do and what he could take. His hands unentwined from her own and those long fingers wrapped themselves around her wrists. Elain only watched as his large, grey hands formed perfect cuffs around her now dainty wrists, and he squeezed with a threatening promise. She was manacled.

Elain went to beg him to stop but then the rush of power hit and she felt her head loll against his shoulder, her mouth parting as a wanton moan tore from her lips. The magic was ecstasy, a pure rush of power and possibility. Elain could feel it courses through her blood, pounding around her body turning her skin alive and electric – just like he had.

The thought of him caused Elain to struggle against the magic but the figure only tightened his grip. Elain could taste his annoyance in the air.

“What is it you want?” It was the first thing she’d said, and to Elain’s surprise, her voice was steady, calm, entirely satiated. The magic continued to course through her, lighting her up from within. It was beautiful, and it was so, so cursed.

The being’s lips returned to her ear, and she felt his tongue once more trace the shape, as though he were trying to memorise her. He stiffened behind her, his entire figure turning rigid as his grip on her wrists turned excruciating.

“I want him dead.” The voice was deadly, cruel, otherworldly – familiar.

Pain exploded within her in the form of black fire.

***

Elain lurched awake, her hands slamming into her chest as she tried to extinguish the fire within. It took several moments of her thrashing in her vacant sheets before she realised that it had not been real – or, at least not tangible.

The black fire she had felt was phantom, a ghost of pain that had brushed through her body via her mind. That…had not felt like a vision. Or, perhaps, she merely not understand the capacity of her powers.

It had felt so real. She had been there, in that dark room looking at that hairpin as that being had taunted her. It had not felt so much of a vision as an invasion. It had felt as though someone had poured something foreign into her brain and she’d temporarily been infected.

Elain shuddered and was up and out of bed before she could think of somewhere to go or something to do. There was a whispering in her mind, a murmuring of a name that she dare not think, and she strongly wished for silence.

But, as it so often did, her mind betrayed her as she went back to the ‘vision’. She hadn’t been afraid of him – the being with grey, mottled skin – as much as she was afraid of the things he had said. The simple statements of her power to which he believed her to have plenty.

More power than Rhysand, more than Feyre. Then there were the visions of Nesta, regretting her choice, regretting saving Feyre, Rhysand and Nyx and giving up her powers. None of it made sense, none of it worked in the world that she thought she knew.

Shivering, Elain blinked to realise that she’d walked over to her closet and pulled out Lucien’s jacket. It was not the one he had given her last night when he had cocooned her in his riding jacket before carrying her to bed. Instead, his one was a deep green with brown lining. There were seven pockets in total, all of them empty bar the one that had contained several flower heads that had long since dried and turned to dust – they had been yellow carnations. The lining was of silk, not just any silk Elain realised, but Didache, the fabric from Autumn. It was fraying at the seams which told her it had been worn lots, loved much, and yet the owner had not cared enough about the jacket or themself to fix it. There was a distressing along the cuffs in which Elain could imagine worried fingers constantly curling and plucking at the seams.

It was the jacket Elain had been wrapped in after the Cauldron, and it was perhaps her only tether to the world those first few days after. Nothing could get through to her, not the angry screams of her sister or the comforting talks from her brother-in-law. Just this rag of fabric that smelt like a home Elain had never been to.

He’d been with her even then, Elain supposed.

It’s funny, she thought, even when I was completely lost, I always had him.

Tugging the jacket on, Elain was able to return to her sheets and curl up into a ball. Around her hung both the scent of him and her. His jacket having been worn by her on many sleepless nights.

The scent wasn’t just his or hers, it was theirs.

Rolling onto her side Elain took what she had seen and pushed it to the back of her mind, imaging herself locking the thought away in a box and burying it under sand. With every spade, the memory receded until her brain was quiet enough for her to slip soundlessly into sleep.

In this distance, under the moon, a firebird screamed in agony.

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flying-nightwing · 4 years ago

Text

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold.

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment.

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it.

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do.

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known.

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic"

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to.

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady”

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you.

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore.

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals.

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range.

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway”

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out.

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom.

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you.

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out.

“So Talia it is” He smirked.

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate.

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat”

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face.

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck.

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips.

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you.

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us”

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thewriteflame · 3 years ago

Text

unashamed adoration tag game

Tagged by @megarywrites Thank you~!

Rules: pick lines from your wip(s) out of context that you love

Should I be extra too and also put one from each chapter I have... which is a lot >:)

Nah I'll just do the first 10 chapters. I'm sorry but this will be a bit long.

CH1 "The Same Routine"

“That was four months ago, Shuntala, times have changed and the ruffles are no longer needed. You should know that with all the fashion booklets you buy.” Shuntala smiled as she began cutting a piece off her Kaldir beef. “Yes, I do know, Aludra, but unlike others I have an opinion on what looks good and what doesn’t work.”

CH2 "Second Meeting"

If it had been socially acceptable Shuntala would have been more than tempted to throw her shoe at him.

CH3 "Surprised Misunderstanding"

It was the sort of conversation Shuntala wouldn't bother remembering much of besides how each word out of Mythel’s lips convinced her more thoroughly that she would rather be mauled by a tiger in Sete than become his wife.

CH4 "Fast Courting"

Nahuel laughed. “Wait three months. Some are engaged for longer.” She turned back to him, glaring. “What if I’m already married to someone else by the time you get back?” “I feel you would fake your own death to get out of marrying anyone else so I’m not worried about that.”

CH5 "Fighting Dragons"

Shuntala drummed her fingers on the counter, chin in her hand. Nahuel would love The Dragon Society. She smiled, wistfully. He would be the joy of the whole gathering. She could picture him, gesturing wildly as he stood in front of the window and talked of the islands and any other story he felt would hold everyone’s attention. He would hold all of their attention.

CH6 "Secrets"

Shuntala examined the paper. It wasn’t the kind Badyrn usually had. In fact, it looked to be of the same quality as the letters Nahuel sent. She quickly unfolded the note as her hands shook. My sweet, sweet Blossom, Shuntala gasped, hand going to her mouth. Tears welled and threatened to turn her vision too blurry to read the note. I have returned. The wind listened to me and rushed me to you. The world has spoken and wishes we reunite as soon as possible on my ship. Your handsome gentleman ps I just heard you and That Lord are no longer together. It is a shame but I fear it is for the best.

CH7 "Tied in Fate"

Nahuel smiled, taking Shuntala’s hands in his. “You are my moon and stars,” The official started wrapping a ribbon around his wrists. “Sun and sky. Whether storm or blessed day, I will cherish you always and remain by your side as long as I have breath in my body.”

CH8 "A New Path"

Familiar boots came into view and crossed to the door. Shuntala hurried to stand and lost her balance. “Whoa,” Nahuel caught her as he came through the door. “Now what did I tell you?” he asked, angrily. “What?” She pulled away from him. “I told you to stay hidden!” “I did!” “By standing right next to the door? What if…” Nahuel stopped suddenly and sighed. “Shuntala, I know you are not used to taking orders from me but please listen to me with these matters at least."

CH9 "The Most Beautiful Taken"

“The dead can’t help you,” The pirate with the rough voice said from behind her. “Then kill me!” She screeched. “Isn’t that what you do? Take the most beautiful things from the world?” The pirate laughed, loudly. “The most beautiful things I take for myself, love.”

CH10 "Until the Last Breath"

Shuntala and Saavin glared at each other, neither moving. Then Saavin laughed deliriously. “I think your corpse would get up to fight me.” He smiled gleefully and his eyes hungrily took in Shuntala. She shuddered. “My bones would crawl up out of the sea to choke the last breath from your body and dance on your grave.” She told him.

tagging: @emelkae @the-finch-address @asomeoneperson @kjscottwrites

#tag game #wip: the revenged #these games are great motivation to continue my editing askfa #also that last line Shuntala tells Saavin is perhaps in the top five favorite lines

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

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hi, how are you? Could you please write feysand + helion, I wonder how it went when rhys realized his dream to have two males worshiping feyre haha

Oooh okay, let’s do a continuation of Five Minutes, since Rhys and Feyre have already made it into Helion’s bed... read that first and then come over here for three times the fun x

Helion opened his bedroom door to find the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court in his bed. They blinked at him when he flicked the light on.

“Well,” he said, voice full of merry amusement. “Is it my birthday already?”

It took a second, but Feyre’s brain seemed to catch up, and then her eyes went wide and she scrambled for her clothing.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you in my bed, Rhysand,” Helion said. Feyre paused. “What, a century, do you think?”

Feyre gaped at her mate.

Rhys however, just sat up a little against the headboard, folded his arms behind his head, and stretched his legs out.

“Two, if I count correctly,” Rhys purred. “My my, time does fly,” Helion mused, and Feyre’s eyes flicked between them like she was watching tennis.

Picturing it now, are you Feyre darling? Rhys asked down the bond. Feyre relaxed a little from her startled pose. Well now that you mention it.

Rhys’ eyes sparked.

Helion closed the door behind him and started walking around the room, hanging up his cloak on a hook and removing jewellery from his wrists like he found naked friends in his bed every day.

In fact, after the recent revelation, Feyre was starting to wonder if he did.

“Staying or going, my dears?” Helion asked. “You’re welcome to do either, but I’m old and it’s late and I’d rather know sooner than later.”

Rhys looked from Feyre, to Helion, and back again.

Never having been one to miss an opportune moment, I have to ask, Rhys said in her mind. Would you want to stay? Feyre hesitated. Would you? she asked back. You know I’ve always wanted to see you worshipped between two males. Feyre shifted, and her scent changed, just slightly. You have mentioned it, yes.

Rhys grinned feline. I’m going to tell him we’re staying, he said. Okay, Feyre said shyly.

Helion braced his hands on the foot of the bed.

“What’s it to be?” he asked them.

“Well, now that we’re already here,” Rhys began. Feyre watched flames light in Helion’s eyes. “Oh it is my birthday,” Helion murmured. “You know Rhys, it’s been a while since I’ve had a decent top.” Rhys laughed. “Actually,” he said. “I thought we might focus on Feyre, tonight.”

Helion’s head swung around to where she sat, still clutching her dress against her chest.

“Mmm a new toy, just as good. I would love to unwrap you honey.” He cocked his head at her. “You look nervous. Never done this before?” Feyre shook her head. “Oh, poor little mouse.” Helion sat down on the bed. “How about, I tell you a little story to get you warmed up, and then you can see if you still want to stay, hm?”

“Okay,” Feyre breathed.

“Shall I tell you about the last time I had your mate in this bed?”

Feyre swallowed, and nodded. Shyness, intrigue, and scandal warred inside her.

Helion glanced toward Rhys, who gave a smirk and nodded his ascent. Rhys pulled Feyre into his lap, and moved his lips on her bare shoulder. Feyre pulled the blanket over them both.

“It was two hundred years ago,” Helion said. He removed his sandals and dropped them on the floor by his bed, before stretching his legs out next to Rhys’. Rhys reached out to rub the arch of Helion’s foot, and the strangely familiar motion caught Feyre’s eye.

“Your mate was just a pup at that time, really,” Helion mused. “I found him standing in the ocean, in the middle of the night. The moon above him, the water below. He looked so beautiful. I had to touch him.”

Rhys’ nails ran up the sides of Feyre’s thighs.

“What exactly he was doing in the Day Court I’m not sure, what he was doing naked in the ocean I’m even less certain.” “I was visiting your libraries,” Rhys said simply. Helion tilted his head. “That still doesn’t explain the midnight swim. But I’m glad you were there, because I myself was out for a stroll, angry at the world and looking for distraction, when I found you. My own personal siren.”

“What were you angry at?” Feyre asked. Helion waved his hand. “Oh who knows. It’s been two centuries. But I do remember wading in after Rhys, just so I could stroke my hand down the muscles of his back.”

Rhys smiled into Feyre’s shoulder, and his hands curved over her legs. Brushed the insides of her thighs.

“I think I was trying out a spell,” Rhys remembered. “Ah, that’s right,” Helion said, clicking his fingers. “You wanted something that would keep you warm regardless of the environment. Well it wasn’t working, you were freezing.” He looked back at Feyre. “I convinced him to come with me back to the house, and told him the true elixir of warmth was a quality brandy.”

Rhys laughed, his lips now at the nape of Feyre’s neck.

“I’ll have you know I perfected that spell, and it now warms my houses in the mountains.”

“Yes very good, very good,” Helion said dismissively. “The point is,” he said to Feyre, raising his eyebrows. “That I got a goodly amount of liquor in him, and then put my hand on his chest to see if he was warming up yet. Trouble was, once I started touching him I couldn’t stop.”

Rhys was moving his own hands now, under the blanket, over Feyre’s abdomen. Lower.

“We made love for four hours, until the sun came up,” Helion said. “Of course, this was after I coaxed him into my bed. Would you like me to show you how?”

Feyre’s face flushed with heat. She nodded.

Helion shifted, moved sinuously like a jungle cat. He slid his white robe off and dropped it to the floor next to his sandals, and now he was all ebony skin stretched taut over an ocean of muscle. In nothing but his undershorts.

“The truth of it is,” he said, his voice growling from his throat. “That all it takes is one very, very good kiss.” Helion sat in front of Feyre with his legs crossed, and cupped his hands gently around her face. His amber eyes, like burning honey, glowed in the dark with a warmth Feyre was not used to seeing in the cool dark of the Night Court. Like if she fell far enough into them she might find the sun.

Helion tugged her forward slightly, and then, much more gently than she had anticipated, he kissed her lips.

At the same time, Rhys started circling his fingernails over her bare back. Helion moved slowly, languidly, and gradually the kiss deepened. A slide of their lips. A pause, a reconnect. The trail of his tongue on her lower lip, the suck of his mouth on the upper. Before she knew it, she had dropped the dress she was holding in front of her, and she was leaning forward with her hands braced against Helion’s knees as he licked the inside of her teeth.

When Feyre sat up slightly to get closer to Helion, Rhys bit down on the join between her neck and her shoulder, and electricity crackled up Feyre’s spine. She shivered with the sensation, and Helion pulled her further forward, lifting her up higher out of Rhys’ lap and onto her knees. Her hands fell onto Helion’s thighs. Rhys followed the movement, and was now trailing his lips up the side of her neck to suck at the hollow under her ear. Down her spine. Teeth on her ass.

A low moan escaped from Feyre’s lips, and Helion answered with a rumbling groan of his own.

“Mmm that’s it little mouse, come closer to me,” he said to her. And then Rhys dropped down behind her, tugged her hips backward and put his tongue on her pussy from behind.

Feyre gasped, breaking her kiss with Helion, and he chuckled. “Yes, quite an enviable position you’re in my dear,” he said. As he slid his fingers along her tongue, then trailed them down her body and pressed them lightly against her clit. “If memory serves, your mate there is certainly skilled with that mouth of his.” Rhys made his point by pushing his tongue deeper inside of her. Feyre’s nails dug into Helion’s legs.

“Is it wicked of me to wonder if it’s a skill you have in common?”

It took a Feyre a second to register what Helion was asking, but then he rose up on his knees, Feyre’s hands dropping to the bed. From this position, his hips were level with her face. Helion stroked his fingers under her jaw, and then rolled his hips so that his hard cock brushed against her lips under his tight cotton shorts.

Rhys? Feyre asked. Mmmm? Is this okay? Rhys chuckled down the bond. Whatever is okay by you is delightful by me.

So Feyre pulled down the front of Helion’s undershorts and licked up the length of his cock with the tip of her tongue.

Helion let out a rumble of approval, and Rhys grinned in her mind. You’re fucking stunning, he said. While speeding up his tongue inside her.

Helion threaded his fingers through Feyre’s hair with one hand, and with the other he lowered the tip of his cock to her mouth. She circled her tongue around the tip and Helion’s eyes slid closed.

Rhys moved then. Came up on his knees behind Feyre, and lined himself up at her entrance. Watched carefully as Feyre put her lips around Helion’s hardness, and then pushed himself into her at the same time as she took Helion’s whole cock into her mouth. Filling her up twice over.

Feyre moaned with her mouth full, and the vibration of it had Helion’s hand tightening in her hair. For a while they found a rhythm and moved together just like that, and the hum of Feyre’s pleasure spun out, stretched down the bond and echoed through Rhys’ own body until he was fucking her so hard she was forced further down on Helion’s cock.

When Feyre choked a little both males withdrew, and Rhys pulled her down to lie at his side. Helion lay down on her other side, and then Rhys kissed her softly as his hand slid down her body and stroked over her clit. Helion palmed one of her breasts, and put his mouth on the other, scraping his teeth over her nipple. He drew her leg between his, so she was spread further, and then slid two fingers right inside her. Worked her in and out while Rhys curled his free hand under her thigh and pushed circles against her clit.

And then in stark contrast to the roughness of their previous position, the two of them wound her up so slowly, tighter and tighter, until her lips were moving in silent begging and her hips were bucking off the bed looking for more. Helion and Rhys built their rhythm, taking their time over her, at such a leisurely pace Feyre thought she might die from pleasure. Then just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, she was right on the edge, falling slow and then very hard and fast into her climax.

Feyre cried out and spasmed between them, and Helion and Rhys held her down, stroked over her with strong hands and reverent tongues. Finally, her body spent, Feyre lay still and a pleasant heaviness lay thick over her. She was vaguely aware of Helion leaning over her to share a long, lush kiss with Rhys, and then they both settled around her as she fell asleep between them.

****

Holy lord it’s late and past my bedtime someone pls stop me. Literally don’t know if any of this is coherent anymore sorryyyyy 🙃

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @thalia-2-rose @positivewitch @feyrearcherons @feysand-loml @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fills #feysand #feysand fics #smut

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kingandfireheart · 4 years ago

Text

What is it that you want, Elain?

Summary: This story is about Elain and Azriel talking about the events of the bonus scene and Elain processing her progress in the Night Court. There isn't much resolution, but it was fun to get into Elain's head for a little.

Words: 2,500ish

My money would be on you happens before this - if you're interested in seeing Azriel processing.

Elain walked on to the verdana of the House of Wind. Nesta and Cassian had insisted on hosting their weekly “family dinner” after returning from their honeymoon. She enjoyed the dinner and conversation, relaxed to see her sisters together and safe. For a long time, Elain had mourned her loss of home, her humanness, but in the last year, she had begun to embrace the fact that her sisters were happy.

Feyre had found her place in the Night Court before Elain had even become High Fae. She had Rhysand, she had Mor’s friendship, and she had her role as High Lady. Nesta took considerably longer to warm up to their new home, but she too had a place - she had friends now - the Illyrian female, and one of the priestesses, a role in the court as a Valkyrie and emissary, and love with Cassian. Elain felt a small pang of envy for what her sisters had. She had befriended Nuala and Cerrdiwen, she passed her time gardening throughout Velaris, and she enjoyed being with the odd family that was the Night Court’s inner circle. Still, Elain felt that something was missing, which had brought her onto the verdana, away from the loud conversations in the family room.

She always loved this view of Velaris. So far up from the city, she felt like her problems may just disappear. Elain also enjoyed the cool breeze of a spring night - she hadn’t brought a coat after spending the day in the sun, but the way the wind bit into her was freeing and calming. She sat down on a bench that Nesta must have added recently, and as if the house had anticipated her needs, a cup of tea had appeared next to her. “Thank you,” she said to the House. Nesta had explained that the house is somewhat responsive to commands, and she didn't want to be rude.

When she had excused herself from the dining room, dinner had devolved into discussing the Autumn Court. Cassian had said “Compared to Eris, Lucien is a saint, loveable even.” Adding, “If you’re into courtiers with a stick up their ass, that is” he said. Nesta had elbowed him for that, clearly knowing that Elain was trying to not look uncomfortable.

Feyre was retelling stories about the Spring Court, which strongly featured her mate who wasn’t her mate, Lucien. Elain had slipped out of the room when Feyre started telling the story about how Tamlin had pushed him into a reflecting pool after Lucien had convinced her to eat some berries that caused hallucinations. She'd heard Lucien and Feyre laughing about it one too many times in the year she had spent in Velaris.

Elain heard steps approaching her, bringing her back to the present. Deliberate steps, since everyone had mastered moving silently, without detection. A deep breath in revealed it was Azriel. Night chilled mist and cedar. That too was deliberate - so as not to startle her of his approach. She turned to find Azriel, predictably clad in his leathers with some shadows swirling around him.

While most family dinners were casual in the state of dress, she rarely saw Azriel or Cassian in anything but their leathers. All three of the brothers had a preference for wearing black at all times - and she couldn’t really fault them. While black seemed to drown out Elain’s features, the Illyrians looked exquisite in black, it brought our their coloring, their ridiculously beautiful features, and their hazel (and in Rhys case, violet) eyes.

That being said, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw any of them wearing a different color, aside from Cassian and Azirel’s siphons. Crimson and Cobalt respectively. She had seen a painting in Feyre’s studio of Azriel’s cobalt siphons against his scarred hands. She always thought they were beautiful, told him as much when she first arrived in Velaris. When she was human, she thought they were ornamental - like jewelry, but then she saw them in use. Azriel had explained that they were ways to channel their otherwise lethal power. That Cobalt power had saved her life from kidnapping, had shielded her from the wind while flying, and patched up a very injured Cassian during the war.

The cold of the wind calmed as she saw Azriel’s blue shields pop up around them. “It’s cold out here”, he stated in his midnight voice that was enough to make strangers swoon. She had seen it in action when she gone to watch Nesta, Feyre, and the priestesses train. The priestesses sighed when he had demonstrated how to shoot an Illyrian bow. Even after all of these months, the effect was not lost on her.

She hadn’t been alone with Azriel since Solstice - they had been keeping their distance for months now. There was something there - some kind of tension, or a pull, but Elain couldn’t quite explain it. She thought she understood on Solstice when he nearly kissed her, but then he pulled away, claiming it was a mistake before disappearing into the shadows. Ever since, their friendship had become polite and cordial, but never more than exchanging pleasantries.

She had learned from watching Azriel that every movement was intentional, and fluid, and graceful. He was predictable and consistent, but still she couldn’t keep herself from watching as he closed the distance between them.

“Are you alright? ”, Azriel asked.

She moved to make room for Azriel on the bench. “I just needed some fresh air to clear my head.” she explained.

“Ah. They can be a lot on a good day, much worse when Cassian breaks out the good wine.” He said, sitting as far away as he possibly could, while folding in his wings. A cup had popped between them, but this one was half full. He picked up the cup and chuckled after taking a sip. She was willing to bet that the contents of the cup was a hell of a lot stronger than her tea.

“It’s not that. I just...” She hesitated, not sure if she was willing to change their current no-depth-relationship. “I haven’t seen Nesta this happy in my whole life. I’m happy for them, It’s just strange.” She half- lied, she knew his shadows would pick up on it, as they likely picked up on the exact moment she had left the room. It was strange, watching Nesta brush Cassian’s hair out of his face, or the way that she laughed at his jokes, or leaned into his chest when they sat next to each other. It was strange to see her sister so unguarded, so comfortable in this new life.

“I could say the same for my brothers.” He said before taking a sip from the cup in his hand. Azriel was usually aloof and distant, rarely letting his emotions show. But something shifted in that cool, beautiful mask of his. “That doesn’t explain why you’re out here on a cold night. Cassian would say to leave the lonely brooding bullshit to me, Elain” He chuckled softly. She loved that sound. His laugh, her name on his lips. She felt her cheeks warm, just slightly and she looked away.

Elain took a deep breath, and an ever deeper sip of her tea. She was nervous. She was nervous about how she felt. She was nervous about letting Azriel in, after she had felt so hurt by his rejection on Solstice. Still, she said what she had been refusing to admit to herself for months now. “I know it sounds petty, but I’m a little jealous.”

“Of Cassian?” He asked incredulously. Again that mask slipped, just slightly as a shadow curled around his shoulders.

“Of their… happiness. I guess. Nesta has Cassian, and Feyre has Rhysand, and I’m just…” She stopped herself. She couldn’t say alone, even though she had probably said too much already. “I know, it’s petty.” Azriel leaned just slightly closer, but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

"I don’t think it’s petty. I understand.” He said softly. He did understand, because he had lived with Rhys and Feyre and Cassian and Nesta after they had accepted their bonds. Part of her hoped it was jealousy - that he hadn’t meant what he had said on Solstice night, that him avoiding her wasn’t personal, that the reason he hadn’t met her gaze when flying her to the House, or the fact that he could not get away fast enough the second he had set her down, meant something. Part of her hoped that he was as jealous of his brothers as she was of her sisters. How funny the six of them would be - three Illyrian warriors, and three Made high fae.

“But, you do have a mate.” he added tightly, as if he was forcing the words out. His wings flared just slightly. A sign of unchecked emotion, if her year of observation was right. She just couldn’t decipher which emotion. Azriel's demeanor was a puzzle she hadn't quite figured out, but she did love trying. Azriel had never mentioned Lucien outside of his role in the courts, he had never pushed her to talk about the bond, had never insinuated she was Lucien's in any way.

She couldn’t stop herself. “That’s not - I don’t want that.” Leaving the rest unsaid, I don’t want Lucien. It was instinct now, to fight the bond. She hadn’t outright rejected it because of the look on Feyre’s face whenever Lucien was in the room, hope. The fact that the mating bond had chosen so well for her sisters.

She could feel Azriel’s gaze on her, could feel his wings, just inches from her shoulder. She knew he wouldn’t touch her - knew that Illyrian wings were sacred and intimate, and that even an intentional brush would mean much more than holding hands, or even a kiss on the cheek. Still, she leaned a little closer to him.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” Her heart jumped at that tone, the softness there, the mention of her name. He set down his now empty cup, and looked at her. The shadows had deepened around him, swirling off of his legs and by her skirts. She looked out onto the view of the city to keep herself from saying the first thing that came to mind: You. She took a breath and made herself look into his hazel eyes - the emeralds standing out in the moonlight.

“Love.” she said quietly enough that he may not have heard her if he hadn’t shielded out the wind. He kept looking at her with that intent but soft gaze she had rarely seen before and had come to savor. Her throat bobbed, but she forced out the words, "I want to be able to choose love." As soon as she said it, she expected him to slip into the shadows, or jump of the verdana. It had happened before - Azriel had a habit of slipping away when things got uncomfortable, but he stayed there, staring at her after she had made such a big confession.

Dangerous. This was dangerous, she reminded herself. Still, she couldn't help but embrace a little bit of danger. “What do you want, Azriel?” She heard herself say. It felt odd to say his name. Not Az, or shadowsinger, as the Amren often called him. There was weight in these words - Azriel was the most aloof member of the Inner Circle, and the least likely to open up, but since he hadn't slipped away just yet...

Azriel tensed only slightly. If she hadn't made a habit of watching him so closely, she wouldn't have noticed. A shadow curled around his ear, as if whispering something. She watched him, knowing full well Azriel was capable of not answering, or holding out for much longer than she was.

“The same thing as you.” He finally confessed, or at least it sounded like a confession - like something else was in those words - longing, pain, desire, guilt?

They stared at each other a long moment - it may have been the first time Azriel’s eye’s were completely unguarded. What she saw there - she wasn’t ready for, it was dangerous, and reckless, and tens kinds of stupid to act on. She did have a mate, who was a perfectly fine male - and they had implicitly decided to take time before dealing with whatever the bond meant. Elain straightened her back, trying to put some distance between them, without closing off this conversation, this connection.

Where did you run off too, Feyre said in her head. I’m sorry I brought up Lucien. Azriel seemed to shift too, as if he too was having a mental conversation with one of the daemati.

Coming she said in her head.

"We should head back in.” She said. They both stood, and Azriel’s icy mask returnEd as if he had just remarked on the weather.

“Thank you.” Elain said, allowing her hand to brush against his, just slightly. “For checking in on me. For being my friend.” She wanted the last word here. She needed to define what this was in un-dangerous terms, to keep him from avoiding her next time, from reading into her why she had pulled away, and to keep herself from kissing his cheek, from wanting more than she ever had a right to ask of him.

He gave her a polite but bland smile that did not reach his eyes. “Don't thank me. That’s what friends are for, right?” He raised his hand as if to cup her cheek, but seemed to reconsider, driving his hands into his pockets.

He dropped his shield of blue and walked back toward the house, as silent and graceful as ever. She was stunned, completely stunned. Azriel had always had that effect on her - taking away her capacity for speech and rational thought.

She gathered the tea cups, using the excuse to take a minute to collect herself before returning to the family room. She sniffed at Azriel’s cup - it most certainly wasn’t tea. Laughing to herself, she walked back into the family room, settling on a sofa between Mor and Rhys . Azriel had already joined Nesta and Feyre on the sofa across from them, holding Nyx as he stretched his tiny wings. Elain's heart fluttered at the sight.

Rhys’s gaze seemed to dart between her and Azriel, but before he could say anything, Mor looked at her, with a conspirators smile. “Next time you want to escape the couples, take me with you instead. I’m way more fun! ” Elain just laughed, nudging Mor with her shoulder.

Azriel chuckled softly from his corner and gave her another smile. This time, Elain returned one of her own.

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #post acosf #elain archeron week #kp writes #elriel fanfic #elriel fic #elriel angst #elriel writers #acotar series #mtp

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oxhaven · 4 years ago

Text

Kawaakari : Last Light On The River

➹ description - sequel to kawaakari | samurai!yongguk comes back to your lonely town but it seems he has his mind on other things. You’re distraught on what to do and how to feel but it still remains, who will you serve?

➹ pairing - samurai!yongguk x reader as oc(yeji)

➹ rated - M for mature | 18+ | NSFW

➹ genre - NSFW | smut | angst | edo period japan | samurai!au

➹ word count - 5k

You could see the mirage of sweltering heat lining the orange dirt path. People lined up in front of their stores and even customers and passerby's stayed towards the side to keep the path open for the royal carriages coming forward in the distance. Their loud gossip turned into hushed whispers as the carriages came closer, seeing samurai in full armor leading the extravagant royal display that was pulled by finely dressed servants.

You scoffed to yourself, folding your arms over your kimono as you watched the applause and cheers begin for the presence of the king in your humble town. He had returned from meeting with some diplomats on the other part of the district, and purposely rode through town to flaunt his power over the people. You were proven to be correct, the gold rimmed door swinging open with the sight of a black covered leg kicking out before the sun gave light to the recognizable grace of the King himself.

Bodies crowded together just to get a glimpse of the King make his way down the dirt path in the gold court carriage that two servant men pulled from the front. His fine gold and black robes hung from his pale body loosely, leading up to the small flawless face except for the single scar over his eye. His joyous laugh roared over the cheers of people pushing amongst themselves to wave at the King. You recognized the red tint in his cheeks and half closed eyes, his body staggering in the entrance of the carriage as his hand grabbed hold of his falling crown, the hanging beads crashing against each other.

Ah, he’s already drunk. And in a good mood.

You had served the King with feminie company a few unfortunate times during past summers where he called upon your sisters. Head mistress never passed up the opportunity to offer the King her services, making you and the rest of your sisters dress your best and head to the castle to dine with the Emperor. It was uncomfortable and stomach churning, the deadly rumors about the King refusing to leave your head. King Yoongi was known as a tyrant, torturer, and sick bastard who took pleasure in every form of pain. You were proven right with the suffocating tension when you all settled into the dining room, the men keeping their hands off the ladies until King Yoongi flicked his wrist; permission granted to enjoy the feast and wine. The mood only lightened when your sisters got enough wine in him, a more comfortable expression on his face that was able to make you loosen up as well.

You remembered the many parties you attended like that for the King, making sure to keep a safe distance away from him as he served his men that he granted to join his events. You managed to avoid the many summonses this summer to serve the King, passing the responsibility onto your sisters as you settled for laundry duty. Serving the King meant more money; ten chickens, five pigs and a goat you could send back home for your sickly mother but you couldn’t handle that much murderous tension in a room, it was too much on your heart. You took on basic work back at the oiran with the other men that frequented the shop but you mainly helped out with errands such as these. Trying to gather fruit in the market that now was bombarded with attention to the King rolling through. You sighed out in annoyance though you kept a safe distance hidden away in the crowd, taking in the sight of the foolish King about to fall out of his carriage. You noticed the many samurai surrounding him, raising an eyebrow to their armor cladded bodies and stone faces as they led the way towards the castle. They definitely garnered attention to themselves, making you wonder what entailed during the meeting with the noble diplomats.

You watched the carriage continue to move forward, the many townspeople following the gold display in hopes that he would drop some gold coins for them. You shook your head, wondering if you should pack some extra unpaid fruit in your bag since no one was planning to do their jobs today. You moved to head back to the stalls but quickly stopped in your tracks with eyes going wide.

There were still more men coming, but you recognized this attire on instant. They didn’t wear bulky armor like the samurai in front, but you knew these guys were the real deal with their black robes and glimpses of the familiar crest on their bodies. The group of them followed behind with a significant distance between the carriage, greeting the people as they came by.

Your eyes scanned the group of men, searching out the person that you begged your mind to remember. Remember the appearance, the distinct features, call back on the love you once shared.

It was as if time had slowed, the glimpse of the black hair being pushed back with a tan hand, long fingers getting lost in the black locks before they moved to the back of his neck to massage the tense muscles. You recognized his thick eyebrows, above those dark eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long. You recognized the nose, pink full lips and the peek of the assorted tattoos along his body right underneath his neck being hidden by his black robe. You recognized it all, drinking him in as quickly as possible before you dared to utter his name.

Yongguk.

Your mouth didn’t even fall all the way open before you were roughly pushed aside, screaming women mingling in the group to convince the samurai to take a chance on them. If it wasn’t for your eyes frantically searching for Yongguk again you would have knocked this heavy basket of fruits on each of their hands and started a brawl.

You managed to find him again in the larger crowd, only for your face to fall with the sight of the many women between his arms. A tiny hope of him acting a bit humble, pushing them aside and focusing on his own task at hand. Instead he welcomed the attention, heated bodies against his own as his mouth moved saying something to rile the girls up in a fit of giggles.

You didn’t notice the way your body quivered or the tears stinging your eyes making them grow red. The basket of fruit that you carried suddenly grew too heavy on your arm, intense wave of emotions filling your chest as you watched his head tilt downward, red painted lips beside his ear as a girl whispered something you assumed to be words of desire, a slight smirk on his face before his eyes darted up to catch yours.

A breath hitched in your throat as you rapidly blinked, feeling hot streams of liquid burning a path down your cheeks. You staggered back as you swallowed a building lump in your throat, unable to read the look in his eyes as he continued to look at you. You finally found your footing to quickly turn around in the direction back to the oiran.

“Yeji-ah, you can’t stay like this forever.”

You muffled your sobs into the satin pillow you buried your face in, your body shaking with the cries you let out as you laid on the fluffy futon underneath you. Your friend sighed in the mirror, carefully drawing a winged line over her eyelid as she painted her face with the make-up on the table.

“Crying all night isn’t going to do you any good.” she tutted, not sparing your form a glance as she continued her work in the mirror.

The night air that came in through the open windows was cool on your hot skin from a very long soak in the bath that you spent crying in there too. You still had more sobs in you to get out, believing that this broken heart was never to be healed.

“I will cry for many more then.” you drawled, moving your smushed face to the side and finally breathing in some fresh air.

“You can’t do that~, you have work to do.”

You raised up your heavy body on your arms, pushing yourself up into a sitting position with legs crossing over. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand and pulled the snot back in with a sniff, hearing your friend make a small noise of disgust.

“I waited and waited for him to return back to me. I worked so hard even though I missed him so much.” You whined with another sniff, your numb heart being hit with another wave of sadness mingled with jealousy as the memory of the woman whispering in his ear flashed in your head again. “He’s a sleazy bastard. I should have listened to him the first time he said not to pursue him. I hope the gods give him what he deserves and-”

A hard smack against the table made you keep quiet, peeking up at your co-worker who was finally looking at you with a kind smile and freshly painted face. “This is not the Yeji I know.”

You made a noise of surprise when she hopped out of the chair and toppled over you, wrapping her arms around your form in a tight hug making you groan. Her hands clasped your face, mushing your cheeks together as she made you turn your attention on her.

“I’m not going to sit here and say I told you so because I already did but you can’t keep ruining this beautiful face with tears for a man.” You blinked at her, your smushed face making pout as your eyebrows knitted close together. Her mouth turned into a brilliant smile, playful eyes sparking with mischief.

“I heard the yamazaki is dining in a bar near the castle, and it’s going to be a very fun party.”

Your head began to shake with denial but her tight clasp kept you still as she continued, “How about we go stir it up a bit more, and I’ll give you a makeover that’ll make every man drop to their knees before you get through the door.”

You blinked at her, your voice coming out muffled, “But Yongguk will be there.”

“That’s precisely why you’re going my love.”

“I don’t want to see women on his arm.”

“And he probably doesn’t want to see his men drooling all over you. But that’s what’s going to happen. And you will take back your pride and ego and show him the power of a courtesan that can kill men and women with her appeal.”

There was a long pause between the two of you, her words settling in before her eyes smiled at you and she smacked a kiss on your lips. She released her hold on you and moved to return back to her seat, giving you the option to let her help you or not. You didn’t really like the idea of going out to a party, much less know that Yongguk was going to be there giving other women attention. Your emotions were unstable; the idea of having to let go of a lost love you’ve waited so long for that you changed your whole demeanor to that of a young girl being married off to a fine prince. Thus, this fine prince ended up being a sordid asshole who had no morals. Though, you couldn’t hold back the excitement in your heart, a little piece of yourself coming back. The look on his face when he saw you in all your glory and unfazed attitude proving two could play this game. And you wanted the last laugh.

That’s what it means to work in Oiran.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, mixed in with the couple cups of wine you downed to get you going. You took extra care in getting ready as fast as you could before the night wasn’t young anymore. You dressed in the finest gowns you could borrow, a kiss to your forehead from the headmistress as she prompted you to bring back customers since you weren’t making any money. Her nose wrinkled in disappointment but she let you and your sister go, holding hands as your laughter filled the night along with whistles of approval from men passing by. There were more people frequenting the district up near the castle, probably due to the King throwing another extravagant party to himself. But you made sure not to go too close, recognizing the famous bar you and your friend were headed towards that was lit up with joyous noise.

You squeezed the hand in yours a little tighter, your friend sparing you a glance as you held your head a bit higher, moving along the path towards the entrance of the bar. You heard the catcalls and whistles, men already falling to their knees to capture your attention like withered flowers. A naughty smile played on your lips, the fire lit lights from the windows shining on your face as you stepped in, your presence being made known by the men who were fascinated with your beauty. Donned in silk red and white robes, shoulders and neck exposed the cool summer air as your hair was pinned up in a messy bun with fringes of your hair coming down to tickle your exposed skin.

You glanced around, already gaining company as paid drinks were offered to you before you could even find a seat. Your friend and you loved to play a game of hard-to-get, only showing each other attention as men tried to get in between. Your eyes scanned the bar in search of the bastard you had your mind on all this time, biting down on your glossed bottom lip as your brown eyes searched through the yamazaki men.

Indeed you found him in the hazy smoked corner of the bar, giggling women at his feet and pouring him drink after drink, even feeding him a chicken teriyaki. He seemed to have noticed you first, dark eyes boring into yours as a red tint washed over your body. You cleared your throat and looked back at your drink in hand, throwing your head back as you let the burning liquid course down your throat.

A few more men sat at the table with you and your co-worker, compliments and words of desire already spewing from their mouths as you turned your work switch on. As a maiden who pleases men this was the same exact scenario, but instead of money you were earning Yongguk’s attention.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?”

This one had caught your eye, among the others that your co-worker was keeping entertained he had his dark eyes on you. You scanned him over, being surprisingly reminded of Yongguk as you took his features in. Tan skin, thick eyebrows, short black hair and an adorable smile that made his eyes smaller. He was much more giggly, his body leaning towards yours as you rested a hand against his chest to steady him. “Yeji.”

He chuckled foolishly, “Nice to meet you, pretty girl. Name’s Himchan.”

You chuckled to yourself, laughing at his drunken actions as you watched him take a bottle of liquor out of the hand of his companion beside him, not even sparing him a glance at his flustered face. He poured the liquid into your cup, up to the very rim before he did the same with his own.

You could feel heat against the nape of your neck as you took your cup into your hands again, carefully bringing the rim to your plush lips and drinking down the alcohol. Your face scrunched over as the strong alcohol filled your senses, making your body shiver. Himchan watched your actions closely, all the while letting his hand creep up your leg. The rough hand trailing up your thigh exposed more of your skin, his face leaning in as his tongue wet his pink lips ready to press against-

You watched his face fly onto the table, his hand torn away from your body as you held back a sudden scream. Himchan was out cold before he could even put up a fight, his body slumped against the table. Your head spun to the side, seeing Yongguk stand tall over you with a hand rubbing over the knuckles of his fist.

Both of your attention was turned to the loud roar of one of his men, seeing the rest of the bar had taken notice of what went down. The large man staggered before dragging a bottle of one of the wooden tables, swinging it back over his shoulder before throwing it towards Yongguk. He dodged expertly, the wasted booze splattering over the wall as the rest of the bar went into an uproar. Yongguk had spurred on a drunken brawl, the yamazaki men beginning to fight amongst themselves.

Fists were flying in each other’s faces as women screamed and moved to get away. You stumbled back, pushing away the heavy bodies that threatened to collide into you as you searched out for your friend. Your search was short-lived, a familiar rough hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you out.

A rush of fresh air hit your heated face as you welcomed the outside, gathering your loose robes with your other free hand. You stared at the back of the man pulling you away from the bar, an ocean of mixed emotions washing over your body as you searched for your voice.

“Guk!”

He didn’t even spare you a glance, continuing to drag you along to wherever he was going.

“Stop!” you let out again with a shaky voice, attempting to pull your arm back but his grip proved stronger.

“My fucking arm, stop!!”

You collided into his body abruptly, his familiar scent filling your senses as you instinctively grabbed his body. You didn’t have time to gather your bearings, your head being tilted back with a possessive hand in the back of your hair and pulling it down. Soft lips met your own and it took every muscle to tighten over for you not to melt. His lips were firm but needy, kissing you just like you imagined you would when the two of you were granted to meet again.

You heard a growl rip from his throat the same time his other free hand clutched around the fabric on your chest. Your heart skipped at the thought of him ripping your garments off of you when you were still outside, but he controlled himself as he released it and let his hand trail up your heart skin to wrap gently around your neck.

He pulled away from your lips much to your disappointment, the hand on your neck keeping you in place as your eyes fluttered open.

“Gukkie..”

He looked just as completely entranced as you probably looked to him, holding each other’s stares as your breaths mingled together in the short distance. He dragged his hand down from your neck, stepping back with his hand now in yours before leading you off again to a nearby ryokan. The both of you hurried in, ignoring the judging eyes of the innkeeper who recognized the face of the yamazaki. Yongguk led you down to a room, guiding you in and shutting the door behind the two of you.

You brought him into your arms, leaning up to kiss him like you did before with more desire as you fought with robes on your body. He pushed you down, falling onto the floor and silently thanking that there was already a soft futon set up underneath you. He didn’t stray too far from your body, kissing you hungrily before dragging his lips down your neck.

You had played this out in your head a trillion times, thinking of all the different ways this could go. But now here you were, unable to do anything with your hands as they scratched and pulled on his body trying to anchor yourself with the pleasure and emotions your body was experiencing.

He managed to suck a few red patches over your neck and chest, already putting claim on you as his lips trailed down further. Your silk robes were no match for his steady hands putting shame to the hard time you were having earlier. You couldn’t decide if his kisses were hot against your skin or if your body was so hot that his kisses were cooling you down. Either way he had reached down to a region that needed him the most, your thighs spreading on instinct for him.

A finger dipped into your pool, swirling about before he pulled it up to the light revealing a sheen of wetness on his digit. His dark eyes caught yours in a heated gaze, making sure you watched him take his middle finger into his mouth, sucking it clean. You moaned wantonly at the sight, quickly biting it back with a whine in fear of your loudness.

He watched his head dive in, feeling his tongue against your slick folds as he licked up hungrily. You covered your mouth in silent scream, feeling his tongue quickly work into rhythm that circled around your folds and lapped up to flick your clit.

You pressed your hand against your mouth tighter, the noise in your throat finding its way out as your lips mouthed curses into your palm. Your free hand found it way into his hair, but he quickly pulled your grasp into his own hand and held on securely. His tongue dipped into your hole, pushing it in as far as it would go making your walls sputter in desire for more length, more girth, and more heat. Your legs were a quivering mess as he lapped you up, altering with his tongue going inside you in a mocking gesture of what was soon to come.

You had needed this. Badly.

Your robes were beginning to stick to your body though you were quite exposed to the air that began to fill with sex. You almost couldn’t take it when his mouth wrapped around your rosebud, sucking into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around making you scream into your hand. You began to buck into his mouth, wanting even more of the pleasure you didn’t know what to do with.

He swirled his tongue over your pussy a few more times, a squelching noise filling the room shamefully as you whined to mask over the sound. Disappointment washed over you when he moved away, only to clench your walls at the sight of him sitting on the back of his heels, loosening the tie around his yukata.

Your eyes darted down as his robe opened up gracing you with the sight of his tan skin, toned body that was donning fresh new battle scars since the last you’ve seen of him. Nothing caught your eyes more than the hard meat standing at attention. You didn’t notice your legs were quivering in anticipation until his hands were underneath your thighs, pushing them back to fold over your torso. The concept of time had escaped from you not knowing if Yongguk was moving too fast or too slow as your eyes strained to watch him the pitch of darkness. You realized you didn’t need to when you could feel it, feel the head of his cock at your entrance coating itself in your wetness all the more making that same shameful sound.

He was pushing himself in before you knew it, making a lustful noise tear from your throat as you stared up at him with eyes losing focus. You heard hiss out a curse, something about the tightness as he permitted his dick to go in deeper.

Claim you.

He held the back of your knees firmly, letting them shake in his hold as he guided his cock to go inside of you. He was so large, too thick for you to take in all at once. He knew this, which is why he pulled back to push in more slowly earning another fucked out whine from your throat. The two of you continued on like that until he was satisfied with what length you could take, pulling his hips back and experimentally snapping back in. Your body took the move well, coating his dick in a sheen of wetness as he built up a steady, slow rhythm. Even though your body was taking it well the pleasure was too much for you to handle. It had been so long since the last time for you never dared to have sex with another man if it wasn’t Yongguk. No amount of fantasizing and masturbating prepared you for this as you held onto his wrists so you wouldn’t lose yourself to the pleasure.

Yongguk watched his dick slip inside you, picking up speed as you took more of his length. Your wells sputtered over his girth, the tightness coaxing him to spill himself so early in the act. He chased the temptation away, snapping his hips into your own until his trance broke with your noise breaking into a high pitch. He whispered a soft apology, before returning to a bearable pace and letting his eyes scan over your body. You were a mess that was all his, in a shameful position that opened up just for him. You couldn’t hold himself back from picking up speed again, wanting to hear more of the noises spilling from your mouth. You were calling upon the gods, not bothering to hold back your wanton sounds as you spurred Yongguk on. You ignored the soreness in your legs as he pushed them back further, letting his body hover over you as he slammed his cock into your squelching pussy. Your eyes rolled back as you begged for it, making sure to tighten your walls over him everytime he came down.

He cursed aloud before falling back onto his knees, halting his movements as he gained a tighter grip on the back of your knees. His dick slipped in and out of you, a slower pace than before though you weren’t complaining. The oncoming feeling of heat building in your lower stomach made you whine, as you reached out uselessly for Yongguk.

He stared down at your pleading expression, messy hair sticking to the sides of your face, lustful eyes begging out, “Make it last...please, make it last.”

You whispered the words over and over, listening to the growl that tore from his throat as he disciplined himself to keep a steady pace as he felt your walls squeeze over his cock. Your orgasm washed over in waves, a gurtled moan of his name as your eyes rolled back and curses spewed from your shameful mouth. You choked on a whine when he picked up speed, your sore legs falling to his sides as he released them and his hands fell between you. You listened to his mingled grunts and moans as he fucked you like he wanted. You wrapped your heavy arms around him, letting your mouth trail kisses along his neck and whispered dirty nothings into the air just for him to hear. He cursed loudly, quickly pulling out and emptying himself on the lower part of your stomach. You felt the hot spurts of liquid on your skin, the act of it almost turning you on again.

He fell over you again, welcoming his body in open arms as a tired smile played on your face. The both of you were spent and sleep was calling to you but the excitement of being with Yongguk after so long kept you up. You traced pictures into his back, your mind racing with the things you wanted to say to him.

You felt the weight on your body raise off of you, a look of surprise donning your features as you watched him gather his robe to cover him again and move away from your body. You quickly sat up, pulling your own silk to cover your body as you silently watched his back turn to you.

“So we have sex and that’s it? No I’ve missed you or this is where I’ve been this whole time?”

He was silent to your shaky questions, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “You’ll be safe here tonight. Go home in the morning.”

You scoffed in disbelief, a familiar twinge in your heart as you blurted, “You’re a sleazy bastard. You take all the women you want and throw them away after one night. If I didn’t show up tonight it would probably be another woman in here with you wouldn’t there?”

“Stop it.” his deep voice gently commanded, his back still turned to you as anger welled up inside.

“I’ve waited all this time for you and the first thing you do when you get back is play with some prostitutes and ignore me? When were you going to make time for me!?” Your voice was much louder, enough to wake up other possible guests in the inn. Your mouth pressed closed when he turned around with a harsh stare until you realized what was being held in them. Your jaw trembled as you felt your eyes burn, hoping to get the rest of it out in a clear voice.

“Did you forget about everything between us?”

You stared each other down for a long while, refusing to break eye contact in fear that if you did it meant he no longer carried those feelings for you. You blinked when he moved towards you, a hand on the back of your neck pulling you to the lips that placed a soft kiss on your head.

“Keep your feelings close to your heart. Don’t let anyone else see what’s inside.”

You gasped when you felt the tight tension on your neck make a snap, your consciousness quickly going out and sleep welcoming you home.

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animatedarchives · 5 years ago

Text

LIFELINE

— 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀

author’s note: so i had this dream a few days ago and i wrote this self-indulgent comfort fic. if you’ve experienced this before, i’m so sorry for the hurt you’ve been through and i’m here if you need to talk :) i hope you like it <3

genre: BiG aNgsT, comfort fluff wew

warnings: toxic relationship (mental abuse, manipulation, guilt tripping etc.), slightly coarse language

word count: 2.1k words

“Argh, I missed again!” you whined, the water gun gently hitting your thigh as you swung your arms down in defeat. You only had one last chance to knock all 5 metal cans over, and you knew you’d never make it. You sighed as you glanced at the life-sized teddy bear you’d been playing for, reluctantly giving up the idea of ever being able to hug its plushy form. Kenma watched you silently, gazing at you the same way you were looking at the bear: with intense longing.

“Here, let me,” he said gently, reaching for the water gun in your hand. His fingers briefly brushed yours and your breath hitched, turning away slightly so he couldn’t see the blush creeping onto your face. You had both been friends for the longest time, but you knew it was more than that. Although neither of you had explicitly confessed, there was a silent understanding that you both harboured feelings for one another, but were too shy to do anything about it.

You watched sheepishly as he brought the gun up against his shoulder, looking into the crosshairs. His eyes fixed themselves on his target, pupils narrowing into cat-like slits. You loved seeing the competitive side of Kenma. The resolve in his eyes, the fierce air of determination and the silent power he held was so different from his usual nonchalant self, you couldn’t help but be allured.

Finally, he pulled the trigger, releasing five precise spurts of water. You barely had time to process what happened as you heard the metal cans clattering to the ground. His muscles relaxed and he smiled with satisfaction, his usual laid-back self returning while you stood there in utter disbelief.

“Kenma, that was amazing!” you exclaimed, turning to face him. He watched as your eyes sparkled, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. It was a sight that warmed his heart, and something he missed so dearly. Reluctantly tearing his eyes from yours, he turned back to the stall owner to claim his prize.

“I’ll take the bear, please. The big one in the back,” he said, pointing to the one you wanted. You squealed in delight as Kenma retrieved the toy and handed it to you. Bursting with child-like joy, you pressed your face into its large squishy head as you hugged it, your body swinging from side to side. Kenma watched you amusedly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He loved seeing you like this, the brightness you emanated rivaling that of the sun. Your genuine joy was one of the little things that truly made him happy, and it was blissful moments like this that he wished you could live in forever.

Beaming, you bowed at the stall owner to thank him, eager to explore the rest of the carnival. However, as you turned around, your eyes landed on someone in the distance and your heart seemed to stop. Gone was the excitement bouncing within you, now replaced with an unsettling heaviness. The light in your eyes was being sucked away, dissipating into nothingness. Sensing the air around you shift, Kenma looked at you concernedly, then followed your line of sight. And there stood the person he hated the most, the one who had caused you so much hurt and emotional turmoil for two years: your ex-boyfriend.

“Well well well, look who it is,” he smiled smugly as he sauntered towards you. His eyes flickered to Kenma, who stood behind you, and he laughed bitterly. “Moved on to another boy already? You always were such a slut,” he spat. Kenma tensed up behind you, clenching his jaw and balling his fists. He was never the type to be violent, but your ex’s disgusting remarks made him want to punch that sick smirk right off his face.

“P-please go away,” you whimpered. Your voice was strangled and your chest tightened as the overwhelming scent of your ex’s cursed cologne invaded your nose.

“Awww, but why? You wouldn’t want to break my heart again now, would you?” he pouted in mock sadness.

This was what you dealt with for two years: him taking advantage of your kind heart and twisting it for his own entertainment. He criticised every little thing that you did, from what you wore to who you hung out with. He convinced you that it was your fault you upset him, that it was you who failed to please. You began to question every decision you made, doubting your ability to make the “right ones” and eventually resorting to asking for his permission instead. He had you choking on a leash, but you were too nice, too forgiving, to acknowledge his manipulative ways. You were losing yourself and eventually became an empty shell of the cheerful girl you once were, no longer taking pleasure in the things you loved. It had been six full months since you came to your senses and broke up with him, trying so hard to regain the light you had lost, with Kenma encouraging you every step of the way. It had taken so much time and effort to recover from the toxic relationship. Yet at the mere sight of him returning into your life, everything came undone in an instant.

“What’s the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?” he hummed. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. You desperately tried to move, to do something to show he no longer held that power over you. But your mind was plagued, and your body remained frozen in the presence of your abuser.

“Oh darling, there’s no need to be scared,” he said, cocking his head to the side. He took a step forward and you couldn’t help but tremble in fear. Dark memories from the past you tried to bury resurfaced as his menacing gaze bore into you. You shrank back in terror and your back hit Kenma’s chest, causing your hold on the huge teddy bear to loosen. The impact pulled Kenma out of his heated thoughts, his eyes clearing to reveal the pointed daggers within them. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist and twisted your bodies so that he was between you and your attacker.

“That’s enough,” Kenma’s words cut through the toxic atmosphere. The change in his demeanour was subtle but terrifying. His voice remained quiet, but now held an edge that was sharper than a sword. His gaze pierced through your attacker, cutting him down to the bone.

Your ex scoffed, unintimidated by Kenma’s physical build. “No, she knows exactly what she did,” he hissed, looking straight into your eyes. “You love to toy with people don’t you darling? Go on, say it. Admit it, you bitch!”

You don’t recall the mistake you made; you only knew that you’d made one. A baseless sense of guilt consumed your mind, and all you could think of was how horrible of a person you were as you looked down at the ground in shame. The lack of words leaving your mouth angered him further. He took a step towards you, but stopped short as Kenma suddenly grabbed his forearm.

“I said,” his grip tightened as anger boiled inside of him.

“That’s enough.”

Kenma looked at him through the strands of hair that fell across his face. He was like a feline crouching behind the tall, dry grass, eyes fierce and unblinking as he stared down his prey. His unrelenting gaze made even your ex shudder, his mind going blank as Kenma seethed silently.

“Leave.”

Kenma’s voice was practically a growl at this point, the finality in his voice apparent. His golden orbs glowed like a predator’s, daring your ex to challenge him. Although no one said it, it was obvious Kenma owned the court and held the game in the palm of his hands.

Knowing he was beat, your ex yanked his arm out of Kenma’s iron grip and scoffed. “Whatever. You’re worthless, anyway,” he sneered at you before walking away. You didn’t know what you did, but you felt like you deserved it. That’s all you ever were anyway: just another piece of garbage.

With the threat no longer present, Kenma eased up and turned to you, significantly concerned for your mental and emotional wellbeing. “Are you alright?” he asked, unable to hide the urgency in his voice.

“I- I think so,” you stuttered. But you weren’t. You knew you weren’t. You were slipping again, back into your old submissive mindset as your head spun with your ex’s lies. And Kenma could see it, the thought of your incited self-hatred causing his knuckles to turn white.

“You deserve so much more than him, Y/N,” he said. You smiled weakly at his words but couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

“I don’t know… Maybe he’s right,” trying to keep your smile, only to fail miserably. “Maybe I really am worthless… Maybe I’m just an awful human being… Maybe…” you thought aloud, voice breaking as you started to believe his words. This experience took you back, remembering how your ex would constantly poison your conscience, leaving you to cry into your pillow every night as your thoughts consumed you alive.

“Y/N, stop,” he said, reaching for your arm. You flinched involuntarily, the action causing Kenma’s heart to break. “Y/N, look at me. Please,” he begged. You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze, a thin film of moisture forming over your eyes as you slipped further into darkness.

“You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. You are beautiful and gorgeous, made perfectly as you are. You are the furthest thing from a bad person. He’s a liar, a manipulator and a toxic person overall. He’s the bad one. He’s the one that doesn’t deserve you,” he said, desperate for you to see reason.

You looked into his eyes sadly, searching for something to hold on to, to stop you from spiraling down deeper into your thoughts. And then you found it. Something that was different between him and your ex. Something that was always there but Kenma tried to hide. It was his unwavering love for you.

Something finally clicked and a spark was ignited between you two, causing your heart to beat faster. You could barely understand what was happening, too many things going on in your head at once. But one thing was certain. You knew the person in front of you was genuine.

Trustworthy.

Safe.

“Kenma… I…” your words lost their sound as your faces inched closer. Your eyes drifted down to his soft, thin lips. Your mind was screaming at you, saying that you didn’t deserve his affection and that you were completely unlovable. But your heart argued back, eager to prove them wrong as it reached out for the one it knew it could call home.

You watched earnestly, breath caught in your throat as his lips got closer and closer to your own. Finally, your eyes fluttered shut, your sight unneeded as you savoured the flavour of his sweet lips against yours. The bear you were holding was long forgotten as your fingers unfurled and dropped it to the floor. Your heart was now set on a new prize, your hands moving up his arms and clenching the fabric of his jacket underneath them.

Your reciprocation to his actions made him brave; he kissed you harder, more intensely, as he rested his palms firmly on the curve of your waist. It was an area tainted by the hands of your previous boyfriend, but Kenma’s touch was so pure, so gentle, and so loving, that all you could do was melt into his hold.

Your lips parted all too soon and he rested his forehead against yours, quietly gasping for air. The jarring voices in your head quietened and eventually disappeared as Kenma’s delicate fingers intertwined themselves with yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he chuckled, his warm breath adding to the heat on your cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. Every single piece of you. You are absolutely perfect in every way imaginable and I don’t ever want you to believe otherwise.”

You gave a genuine smile as you grasped onto the lifeline of hope Kenma was throwing out to you in the sea of darkness. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his shoulder.

“Thank you. I love you too, Kenma.”

Your muffled whispers against his clothes put a gentle smile on his face, his heart soaring as you returned his affection. Kissing the side of your head, he embraced you tighter, wanting to show you how deeply you could be loved.

Breathing in his comforting scent, you came to a realisation.

It wasn’t the bear you longed to hug the most that day.

It was Kenma.

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taechaos · 4 years ago

Note

That scenario was really good😱 Yeonjun’s last line made me GASP lolol

can you do another scenario where Yeonjun gifts OC roses and a teddy bear through a delivery service so she is shocked when she receives them, how would Jungkook react? 😱

I love jealous/pissed/possessive Jungkook 🥵

YALL JUST REALLY LOVE THE DRAMA 💀💀 making my man suffer like this,,, you'll be hearing from my lawyers

im gonna be including this bit in the scenario so 😎

"Is this for you or me?" you ask Soyeon who can barely keep her eyes open after waking her upon seeing a bunch of gifts when you opened the door of your dorm room to attend your morning lecture. It's a teddy bear holding a bouqet of roses in its fluffy paw, sitting on the hall floor to provide you with today's first surprise.

You know Soyeon is single, and you know Jungkook like the back of your hand: his romance doesn't extend to these cheesy gestures. It may seem rude to not even think of the possibility that it might be your boyfriend's doing, and despite being such a hopeless romantic, you're certain it's not from him.

Soyeon grumbles drowsily as she stretches before rubbing her eyes with her fists. "What?" she yawns tiredly.

"That," you point past the open door and she follows the direction of your finger with puffy eyes.

"Definitely not," she answers with a sleep strained voice. "Look for a card." She doesn't leave room for a response before turning on her side to face away from you and fall back asleep.

You listen to her advice and crouch before the toy to search for anything that would reveal the identity of the delivery person. It's with close inspection that you find a white card stuffed between the roses.

In your hand it reads: Good morning, beautiful. Can't wait to see you in Human Anatomy.

There's your clarity, and you can't doubt it's Yeonjun when Soyeon doesn't even take this course. It's pathetic, you think, to try and court someone who's already in a stable relationship. This isn't him going after you, but beckoning you to go to him just like he said you would before calling your boyfriend a cliché. It more or less sounds like a mind game, and you're stuck between ignoring his advances completely or confronting him about it.

Yeonjun seemed like an understanding guy; he did say he wouldn't go around you asking for a date, and for two days, he hasn't. If he takes orders so well, it wouldn't hurt to tell him to leave you alone once and for all.

That's your reasoning to march down the hall and find Yeonjun after crumbling the note and leaving the gift on someone else's doorstep. Front rows are your go-to spot to not miss a single detail in your lecture, and it's no shocker seeing Yeonjun sitting on a front row bench.

You clench your fists and scowl to intimidate the creep before stomping over to him. Dismissing your demands is out of the question when your stance nothing short of angry. He needs to know you're not playing around, that he can't manipulate your naivety like he's attempting to.

His eyes twinkle the moment they land on you and he stops spinning his pencil to give you his utmost attention. Good, he's listening. You don't trespass the barrier in the form of a stretched out table between you two as you glower over him.

"I'm gonna make this short," you glare with slit eyes, "I don't want anything that has your fingerprints on it nor do I want to hear you speak to me ever again. Leave me alone or I will report you for harrassment. Say yes if you understand."

The light in his gaze dims momentarily as his awed smile falters. "Y-Yes." He appears afraid and innocent, but your gut denies it. "But may I ask why?"

"Oh, you know why," you scoff in a hushed voice, "I don't want your stupid cards and your stupid gifts, and most of all, I don't want you. Get that through your thick skull."

He never knew you could be this mean, and it almost throws off the sweet impression he has of you until he remembers that you're just loyal. He loves that you're so faithful, and he wants you to be faithful to him only. He craves it so deeply, but he says nothing of the sort and instead stammers, "I-I understand. I-I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone if that's what you wa–"

The slam of the lecture room's doors echo in the spacious hall, and you hurriedly take a seat on the edge of the bench to distance yourself from Yeonjun as much as possible. He has to bite his lip to stop a smile from growing on his face from having you sit next to him.

But just as you requested, he doesn't interact with you throughout the lecture except for a few glances to drink in the sight of you being so close to him. Instances like these are the only time he can feel intimate with you, but it'll only get better on from here.

Because the professor assigns a pair project before you're dismissed.

"Before you leave, by the end of the term, you will have a report submitted in pairs regarding senses that affect the human system in a topic of your choice. More information on the college website, along with the assigned pairs. You can go."

"I already checked," Yeonjun whispers to you, making you immediately wear a distasteful expression, "I'm your partner."

"Nuh-uh," you deny childishly before taking out your phone as you stand from the bench to leave after packing your stationaries. You log onto the site just as you receive a notification from Jungkook.

the love of my life ♡: no good morning text? sus

You have to swipe it away out of worry that you'll actually be forced to spend time with Jungkook's new nemesis. The site loads. You scroll past the details of the task and finally land on the pairs.

And there it is—your name next to Yeonjun's on the screen.

"No," you exhale to yourself and rush out to the hall to avoid Yeonjun. "No, no, no."

Below the names explicitly states: No changes in the assigned pairs. It's too big of a coincidence for you to think it's just your bad luck—you're certain bribery is involved, and how lovely that you can't do anything about it.

You take pride in your intelligence, but you can't outsmart him in this situation, especially when your grades are being held over your head to force yourself to be around Yeonjun. Jungkook would get arrested for murder if you involved him in it, and he surely wouldn't leave you alone if you told him about it.

But then again, you promised—no more secrets.

You: good morning kookie!! i was a little busy so i couldn't text you :< did you sleep well?? <3

"Fuck, fuck," you shriek to yourself as you keep walking, not paying attention to where your feet are leading you. Just as long as you're safe from Yeonjun so Jungkook wouldn't find you with him. You need to tell him when the guy isn't around, so you need to wait until his lecture's over–

Yeonjun calls for your name softly while running past the roaming students, and you stop on your tracks with the desire to spit out every insult you have in mind to his face.

"You asshole!" you grit the moment he faces you while breathing heavily. "You planned this, didn't you? I said–"

"I-I'm sorry, but I had nothing to do with it," he pleads with that innocent expression of his. "I promise I-I won't act like before! I'll respect your relationship and stop being weird!"

"Good," you jab a finger at his chest as you seethe, "I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

He frowns with a jutting bottom lip, looking like a kicked puppy as his eyes turn glossy. You are so mean, and he hates it, but his only leverage is that he can be meaner—not to you, never you, but to Jungkook. He's a step ahead of you, and you can shower him with all the bad words you can think of until you heart is content, but he sees it as just a step in the process of owning you.

You think he's submissive and persistent, but no, he's just manipulative.

—

"Don't get mad," you warily caution while lying down on the grass next to your boyfriend, basking in the sun to last the peaceful atmosphere a little longer. His arm is under your back and his hand on your chest as you hold it.

He has his eyes closed as he says, "no promises."

"We promised to tell each other everything, and there's nothing you can do about this one so please don't get mad at me." He quirks a brow when he opens his eyes to see your timid face. "Remember Yeonjun?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me," he groans angrily as he sits up, prompting you to do the same. "You talked to him, didn't you? I specifically fucking said–"

"Can you just listen?" you sigh. "We have a project together." His brows scrunch intimidatingly, making it harder to say what's on your mind. "And this is unrelated but... he brought a gift to my doorstep."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Is there anything more I should listen to? Are you done?"

"H-he said he'd stop acting weird and respect our relation–"

"Fucking bullshit. What, did he also say he just wants to be friends? That he's not interested in you anymore?"

"He didn't say that–"

"And you didn't tell the professor you wanted a different partner? Did you keep the gift too?" he sneers mockingly.

"Jungkook, I can't switch, and no I didn't keep the freaking gift," you defend, feeling offended. He can be so provocative when he's mad. It isn't even your fault! "I'm telling you, there's nothing I can do except to convince him to work together online. Isn't that better?"

He grabs your jaw and pulls you a little closer. His grip is bordering on painful and you hold back a wince. "Are you fucking hearing yourself? You can't even be around him and yet you're not allowed to switch? Listen to me. You go to that fucking professor, tell him this guy is harrassing you and that you can't work with him, and if they don't listen, you go the headmaster. You hear me?" he slightly jolts you to command an answer.

"Y-Yes, but–"

"Don't make any fucking excuses," he hisses and lets go of your face. "If you don't do something about it while I'm giving you the chance, then I will."

You hold onto your chin as you meekly question, "what will you do?"

"Things don't need to escalate," he shrugs as he lies back down. "I'll threaten him with my pocket knife and one wrong word from him, I'll use it."

"Like kill him?" you exclaim in shock.

He rolls his eyes. You take him too seriously sometimes. "No. Just send a message. Now go run off to your professor before I ask Yoongi to be my alibi."

#yall wanna know how jk would do it? 😩#my mans would beat up the poor guy and then hang out w his friends so he can have an alibi in case yeonjun reports him #WEEWOOOWEEEEWOOOOO #textbook love

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speechlessxx · 5 years ago

Text

Bring Him Light - viii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: If the king can disrespect his queen so openly, surely the people can, too?

Warnings: slight injury to reader, confessions, bad timing

Word Count: 3k

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

It was inevitable. The people began to lash out at you as soon as their king did. You were an outsider, the daughter of a king who waged a war against their country. They welcomed you into Brooken in hopes of a bright future and an heir for their king. And to their knowledge, you had disappointed them. So, when your husband struck you in front of his court, it opened the door to let his subjects treat you in the same manner.

In the days that took place after the party, the respect for you had dwindled. Ladies of the court who once pulled you around to chat your ear off and were all too excited to invite you to their tea parties and to their chateaus had all stopped acknowledging you when you walked into the room. You were given smug looks and side eyed stares. Their husbands, who were all eager to carry favor with the queen in doing so with the king as well, had barely spoke to you now. Before, when they grazed your shoulder with theirs, you were bombarded with apologizes, afraid that they had hurt the king by hurting you. But all that changed the moment your delicate skin was scarred by the wedding ring that symbolized your failing marriage. Now, their bumps were intentional, and they hurt – you had bruises to prove it.

You admired one of the paintings that adorned the wall of the east end of the castle. You were rarely seen outside of your chambers and when you were, you kept to yourself. The warm, welcoming Brooken was gone. And in its place stood a cold, lonely prison.

“(Y/N),” you let out a sigh when you recognized the low, hushed voice of Brock Rumlow. Ever since the party, you had spoken to four people – Wanda, Natasha, Jean the midwife, and Brock. The friendship between you and your husband’s cousin was platonic, you made it clear to the man that you had no intentions of an affair and he seemingly agreed, not wanting to further endanger you.

He glanced around to ensure that you were both alone. He wasn’t eager for any unwanted guests to listen in. Brock strode over to you with long steps until he stood next to you. Your eyes stayed glued to the giant painting. It appeared to be a portrayal of a war that Steven’s grandfather had been a part of.

“The arrangements have been made,” he whispered. You nodded. “There’s a tower opposite your bedchamber’s windows. When you see a light, know to meet at the docks the next time the moon rises. We will use the cover of the night to escort you and your ladies safely onto a ship.”

“Thank you.” You muttered. “Really.”

He reached out and gave a comforting squeeze to your arm. His fingers trailed the scarred flesh of your wrist – a reminder of another fault King Steven has done.

When the two men were young, Brock had been groomed to take the throne because Steven had been a sickly child. He remembered his aunt being told to expect the worst, so Steven’s father had taken Brock under his wing. He convinced himself that he would’ve been the perfect king. But then a “magic” doctor from a foreign land had been brought in and a few weeks later, Steven’s illnesses were gone along with the short, skinny prince. Steven grew to be broad and tall, towering over his cousin and a lot of other men. Brock was thrown to the side as Steven regained his proper place in the court.

He grew up with jealousy as he watched his cousin get everything that was meant for him. The castle, the title, the crown… Brock hadn’t been jealous of Steven’s wives. He had his own list of lovers and was very satisfied with the women whom he shared a bed with, but then your portrait was delivered by King Anthony Stark. The young, beautiful princess of York who got to be his cousin’s wife – who would’ve been his wife if he had been on the throne.

“Of course, your grace,” he nodded.

“Is there anything else?” He shook his head and mentioned he should go for the council had a meeting in a few minutes. You smiled at him before you dismissed him, wanting to be alone. He bowed before leaving.

You thought you’d be giddy, excited upon hearing the news. Lord Pierce worked quickly, contacted the Wakanda King and negotiated you and your ladies’ safe voyage. It was all falling into place. You’d be far from Brooken so that your husband and his court couldn’t hurt you anymore and far from York where your father would’ve just sent you back to your own personal hell.

But you weren’t happy. You were taking your unborn child away from its father. You were stealing away a kingdom’s heir. For what? Because you were unhappy in your marriage? Because your husband had hurt you? They were good reasons to leave. So, why weren’t you relieved?

After long minutes of silence and contemplating, you heard a tutting. With a frown, you turned around and saw one of the noblewomen, Lady Leah Nightingale, emerge from the shadows. She had been one of the women who took back her invitation to her chateau – it wasn’t as if you had any intentions of riding off to the outskirts of southern Brooken to go either way.

“Lady Leah.” You greeted with a fake smile. She had an eyebrow quirked up with a taunting expression with her arms crossed.

“You’re a whore.” She said. Your smile immediately dropped. “I didn’t want to listen to the rumors about you and Lord Rumlow, yet here I am… Did I intrude? The moment seemed rather intimate.”

“I believe you are mistaken, Lady Leah.” You nodded. You walked past her and towards the staircase behind her when she grabbed your arm and whipped you around.

“The king will have your head for your infidelity.” She said. “Then, any lady of the court gets another chance at being queen. That crown,” she snatched the dainty York tiara off your head, “belongs to me.”

“That is my mother’s.” You seethed as you reached over and tried to grab it from her hands. It became a tug of war.

You found it ridiculous, fighting over a headpiece. Your husband had gifted you hundreds of jewels and crowns that were stashed away. You could’ve easily exchanged it for something more extravagant or expensive, but Brooken had already stolen so much from you.

She pulled so hard away from you that the crown had slipped from both your hands. It clattered against the hard floors, the aged metal splitting in half. You gasped with wide, teary eyes. Lady Leah gave you a smirk.

“It’s all yours, your majesty,” she mocked. “It was cheap like your mother… and like you.”

You glared at her, feeling all the pent-up rage bubbling to the surface. You trembled with anger, unsure of how to exert such negativity. You weren’t sure whether to lunge at her and tear the stupid dangly earrings from her ears or scream until your lungs gave out.

“Queen Margaret had more grace than you and she was older than the king. Queen Sharon was more beautiful and kind. You little York bitch thought you were too good for the rest of us. Too good for the king?” She scoffed. “No wonder he grew tired of you. Hell, I wanted to slap you the second you stepped out the carriage. I can’t wait until he kills you.” You felt your breath shudder and the tears fall from your eyes. “In fact… I’ll go ahead and do it for him.”

You frowned with confusion but quickly let out a gasp when her hands reached out and pushed your shoulders hard. You lost your balance. Your foot missed a step as you tumbled down the stairs.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The five men sat around the wooden table, the king at the head. He drummed his fingers along the wood, the rhythm helped calm him.

It had been a week since the party – since he had slapped you as if you were just a defiant servant. He felt awful the moment it happened. You had a horrified look on your face as you stared at him as if he truly were a monster with fangs, horns, and all. He felt like he was one.

After the party ended, he saw an upset Strucker to his guest chambers before nearly running to your shared bedchamber with thousands of apologizes raging on inside his mind. He had intended to kiss the cut until it healed and hold you like he did in the first few months of your marriage. But you weren’t there. So, he sat at the foot of the bed and awaited your return. He stayed up all night long, but eventually collapsed hours after the sun rose.

He hoped to waken with you curled up beside his body, but he woke up to not-so-quiet servants who were briskly removing your things from the chamber. He pulled one girl aside and questioned her. She revealed that you wished to stay in your old chambers from now on.

He thought that this was perhaps a way of punishing him, so he allowed himself to be punished. He deserved it. He knew he should not have struck you – whether it happened privately or in front of a crowd, he knew he should not have laid his hands on you in that way.

He thought that you would return in a few short days and allow him to apologize for his wrongdoing. He hoped that there was still a chance at that happiness he promised you.

But days had turned into a week and you never returned.

And it hurt him.

Lord Pierce was droning on about the absence of grain. In the past year, Baron Strucker had been holding out on the essential good. He had been giving Brooken a fraction of what he used to. So, Steven invited him to court in hopes to coax out more of the grain so that his people could eat. But with your outburst and Wanda’s rejection, the Duke became angry. Now, he was refusing to ship grain, feeding the king excuses about a wildfire and insects that ravaged his lands.

“Is there anything we can do?” He asked. “Perhaps, reach out to any allies?”

“York.” Lord Rumlow suggested. “Although with the situation at hand, I doubt the queen would be willing to ask her father to help you.” The words were meant to be a jab at the king. Steven knew. His cousin was always poking and looking for a fight.

Before the king could respond, someone burst through the doors. It was a wide-eyed Natasha rushed through the doors. Panic written all over her features. “Your grace, my lords,” she bowed, panting slightly.

“Nat?” Lord James asked, rising from his seat. “What’s happened?”

“The queen…” she said, breathless. “The queen…”

“Out with it!” Brock snapped, jumping up from his seat and walked over to the woman, grabbing her arms and shaking her slightly. James had told him to unhand her.

“The queen was pushed down the stairs by Lady Leah Nightingale… Or at least that’s what the witness had said,” Natasha explained after regaining her breath. “She’s in the infirmary.”

Steven felt the color drain from his face as he shot up and rushed past her and out the room. He heard the lady’s heels clatter against the tiles as she followed him. The sound was accompanied by heavy footsteps, that undoubtedly belonged to the other lords of his council.

As he approached the doors, he noticed a midwife – he believed her name was Jean or Joan, or something along the lines of that – walking the opposite direction in quick, rushed steps. He dismissed it before bursting through the double doors.

The doctor, Stephen Strange, who was visiting from York, had been looming over you. Lady Wanda sitting at your bedside. “King Steven,” he greeted with a nod.

“Strange.” Steven responded. He glanced over to the men behind him and asked for everyone but the doctor to be dismissed. The two ladies glared at him – he didn’t miss the way his cousin did, too. “Must I repeat myself?”

“I will not leave you with her.” It was Wanda, the shy, meek auburn-haired girl, who spoke up. She had rarely been defiant or outspoken in the ways you and Natasha were. She had always smiled and nodded, but now, she scowled at the king with her brows knitted together and venom dripping from her words.

The king sighed, placing a hand on his hip. “Please,” he asked with a lower voice. It was as if he were begging. The two women stood as they were as if to say we don’t take orders from you. “Fine. Stay.”

Steven walked closer towards you. You looked so peaceful – asleep with your head turned to the side slightly and a hand over your stomach, which protruded in the slightest bit but was still unnoticeable beneath your gown. The scar left a scabbed line on your cheekbone. He hadn’t realized how shallow the cut was.

“Is she okay?” He finally asked. “And I apologize that I hadn’t been there to welcome you to Brooken, Stephen.”

“I’m only here because her father asked me to come check on her. I am her godfather after all.” Stephen lied. Though, truthfully, he was your godfather. “She’s only sleeping for now, your grace. No true injury. The ba – “he stopped talking when he saw Wanda shake her head over the king’s shoulder. He was a smart man. He knew not to overstep. “She’ll make a quick recovery and be on her feet in a day, if not, less.”

“If she doesn’t wake?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. She will wake. I assure you.” Stephen said, confidently. He wasn’t here for your father’s bidding. He was here to inform you of your brother’s worsening condition. He believed that you had a right to know and say your farewells, but he realized that perhaps you had other pressing matters to deal with. “I suggest you get your court in order. If word reaches York about the treatment of their princess, there will be another war… And King Anthony will be twice as ruthless as he was during the first.”

Steven nodded. His eyes glued to your unconscious body. It was his fault that his people – your people, too – had been so cruel to you in the past week. Thankfully, you weren’t badly hurt in this incident, but what of the next? What happens when his own citizens become bold enough to have a true attempt at your life? It would still be your blood on his hands because he allowed this to happen.

“Let’s leave the king, shall we ladies?” Stephen asked. Although slightly wary and defiant, the two women reluctantly agreed. He listened to their receding footsteps and the door close behind them.

Steven brushed your hair gently with his fingers. He pressed his lips to your temple and to the cut before placing a chaste kiss to your lips. You head had turned, but you were still sound asleep.

“I don’t know if you’re listening. I hope you are.” Steven whispered, clutching the hand that laid to your side. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for striking you, for allowing people to disrespect you so openly. I’m sorry for calling you a whore queen, for frightening you. I… There are so many wrongdoings, so many faults. I told you before I wanted us to be happy. I wanted our future to be happy. And I failed you. I want to do better by you, to be the man that you deserve, I truly do…

“But there are things going on in this kingdom that you do not know about… I pray that you do not. My cousin and Lord Pierce are plotting against me. I know it. I want to trust you, (Y/N). I do. I want to tell you of my plans to weed out everyone who dares go against us, but I see them looming over you. I see Brock whispering into your ear. I can’t help but wonder if you will betray me like Margaret? Like Sharon? I’ve been married twice before you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it scares me because the only love I’ve known ends in betrayal. And if you betray me, I will not know how to recover.”

You were beginning to stir awake. Your eyes were fluttering open, wincing at the light. You felt a pressure in your head, a warmth radiating to your side. His words were muffled. You didn’t register anything he said. Not even when Steven whispered,

“I love you, (Y/N).”

Outside the infirmary doors, the lords had eventually dispersed. Wanda and Stephen had walked off, whispering about the secret baby that only you, your ladies, Jean, and now your godfather knew about. Rumlow and Pierce rushed off, whispering to one another about their plots. Only James and Natasha had stayed behind, standing against the wall across the door.

“Buck?” Natasha whispered. She surveyed the hallway. They were completely alone. Not a servant in sight. He hummed in response. “I have something to tell you.”

“About what?”

“I’m telling you because I trust you and because I do not trust Lord Rumlow.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You were eventually moved back to your chambers – the one separate from the king’s. You were still a bit dizzy from the incident, but you were assured you’d be fine. Jean had come by discreetly and checked up on you. She assured you that the baby wasn’t harmed and that the fall wasn’t too harsh that it could’ve caused any damage. Your godfather had also promised that you’d recover.

It became clear that Brooken did not want you here. You were in danger. Your child hadn’t been born yet, and it was in danger, too.

And like a flame that ignited in the window of the tower across from your chambers, a new hope burned through you. The signal. The confirmation.

You rubbed your slightly protruded stomach anxiously. The next night you were leaving Steven and Brooken. Forever.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america #royalty au #marvel au #marvel royalty

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sserpente · 5 years ago

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A/N: Requests from @midnight-queen-1 and anon. More fluff coming your way! ♥ I sped up the events in “Thor” a little bit for the story, I guess it won’t matter much.

Words: 2168 Warnings: fluff!

You giggled upon his cool touch. “That is not where your hands should be.” The thin fabric of your blouse was barely covering your cleavage anymore, the buttons torn from when Loki had caught you and clung onto you for dear life after another round of playing tag with him like children. Well, actually you had teased and provoked him until he had begun chasing you, your joyful laughs echoing through the palace gardens. His hands were dangerously close to the underside of your breasts now—and it scared you how much your body seemed to enjoy it, raising goose flesh.

Loki chuckled darkly as he buried his face in your neck and wrapped his arms around you from behind so he could toss you into the hay pile next to his horse. The black stallion was hardly bothered by your vigorous play fighting and high shrieks. It was used to you two fooling around in the stables and as long as it received carrots which you stole from the kitchens every now and then, it would not complain.

The Asgardian princes had practically been battling for your attention lately, and with Thor’s coronation approaching, he kept the whip hand when it came to assertiveness. He was rather fond of you, Thor, liked the mystery around you. You had stepped into their lives in a rather unexpected way, one day and much to your mother’s surprise, Odin had let you play with them both as you all grew up.

Loki was a man now—a very handsome one at that. All those times you had spent the nights in the stables together… there was a very different significance to it today. A light kiss here, a secret touch there… the possibilities of what you could do were endless. It was just if Thor learned about your fondness for his brother, he would quite possibly riot.

Loki buried his face in your hair and inhaled your scent, the tip of his nose tickling your skin. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, forcing you to lean into him. Happily, you obliged with a sigh. His intimate hugs were always comforting, ever since that night the two of you had returned from a winter ride late at night and the stable boy had accidentally locked you in. You had spent the dark hours in midst piles of hay. Unlike you, he had not seemed to be bothered by the biting cold at all. You on the other hand had almost frozen to death, so he had wrapped you in his embrace. This would not happen today anymore, of course. Loki had mastered his seidr by now, some locked stable doors would hardly be a problem for him.

“Perhaps we should just stay here,” Loki murmured softly. “Hide away from the worlds…” He paused. “Accompany me to Thor’s coronation tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Do you think that to be a wise idea? You know that Thor…”

“Yes. I know. I would still like to have you by my side. In my company, you will be allowed to witness the coronation too.”

You pressed your lips together to a thin line, turning around to him.

“He’s not ready, is he? He is too…”

“Too everything?” The God of Mischief suggested with a smirk. He was right though. Thor was your friend but quite frankly, he was an idiot sometimes—and he was definitely not ready to rule a kingdom yet. Besides… you had never understood how Odin had chosen Thor as his heir rather than Loki in the first place. He was the reasonable one. The one who did not storm into battle at the next best opportunity…

“Thor will wonder where we are.” You mumbled when he closed his eyes. You were tempted to do the same. A nap on a pile of hay, it sounded wonderful and yet…

“He is busy preparing for his big day.” Loki uttered. “He will not miss us.”

You sighed once more. “Alright. Just an hour…”

“There you are!” Thor was grinning from ear to ear. “I feared you might not come.”

You scoffed. “Your father did not invite me to the coronation, Thor, I would not have been allowed to come if it wasn’t for—“

“I would have convinced him for sure, you deserve a place by my side on this big day after all.” The God of Thunder paused, observing you with a bright smile. “Maybe tomorrow, when I am king, you would meet to dine with me? You know… candle light, violinists… just the two of us.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Wait, what?” Your jaw dropped when Thor took a hold of your hand and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles—just when Loki turned around the corner. His expression darkened the moment he saw him initiating body contact with you.

“What is going on here?”

“What is going on here, brother,” Thor mocked jokingly, “…is that I am trying to court our lovely friend (Y/N).”

“You are what?” Loki spat, narrowing his eyes. Your own widened upon his harsh reaction. “(Y/N) is… our friend. That should be absolutely out of the question.”

“Whyever not, brother? We have known each other for so long now and quite frankly, you do have the blood of the princess, considering your mother’s heritage. Father would approve of us.” He grinned at you once more, presumably to appear seductive.

You should not be declining, of course not. Thor was to be king—becoming his wife would one day make you the queen of Asgard… and you would never have to worry about poverty again, could enjoy recognition and admiration from an entire people and yet… there was no love. No romantic love, anyway.

Before you could even phrase your rejection, however, Loki pre-empted you.

“I am against it.” He spat, his nostrils flaring—in all the time you had known him, surely you had never seen him this angry.

“You’re against it, brother? What say do you have in this matter? It is time for me to find a partner and (Y/N) is a beautiful woman.”

“You barely know her.”

“But you do?”

“You do not even know her real name!” He exclaimed, clenching his fists.

Your eyes widened. By the Norns. Loki… Loki was in love with you! He reciprocated your feelings. All those weeks you had been dancing around each other now, sharing intimate moments in the stables but never acting on your feelings…You swallowed thickly, trying your hardest for your voice not to shake. “Guys… I am right here.”

“H-her real name? W-what does it matter if I…” Thor looked at you. “You never told me your full name?”

“You never asked?” You suggested with an innocent shrug.

“Can you promise to always treat her like a goddess?” Loki spat.

“Shut up, Loki. (Y/N)… would you allow me to court you? To become my queen, in time?”

“Thor, I…” Were you even allowed to decline? You were not sure. Biting your lower lip, you sucked in a deep breath. Thor was your friend but you had never had romantic feelings for him. Those, you had been harbouring for Loki only. If only Loki had asked you now to dine with him alone… you would have embraced him and said yes straight away. “I… Thor, I don’t think I can. We are friends and I love you but… not like that.”

The God of Thunder frowned. “Oh.”

“Don’t be mad, please, Thor.” Your smile was sad but honest. From the corner of your eye, you could practically feel Loki breathing out relieved. “I never wanted to be queen anyway.”

You were more than grateful for the maid who came to fetch them both for further preparations of the ceremony, leaving you behind with a pounding heart.

“Frost Giants.” Your eyes widened when Odin grasped Gungnir tighter and fled the throne room, quickly followed by Thor. Frost Giants on Asgard? How was that even possible? You almost tripped over your dress when you hurried up the few steps over to Loki.

There was no time to admire how handsome he looked with his helmet on from up close—yet his hands felt comforting when he grasped your upper arms and looked you dead in the eye.

“Stay here. We will handle this.” You opened your mouth to protest but Loki had already removed his helmet and rushed after his father and brother, the only thing left in your field of vision his green cape flattering behind him.

Nervously, you bit your lower lip, wondering what in the nine realms it meant you were more worried for him than for the future king of Asgard.

Frigga was the one who invited you to stay the night in the palace, offering you a bed in a maid’s chamber. Perhaps… it might not be such a bad idea. There was already bad blood between Thor and Loki because of his attempt of courting you earlier today, not to mention Loki’s involuntary love confession. There was no doubt he had been unbelievably jealous when Thor had asked to court you. Can you promise to always treat her like a goddess, he had said. You swallowed thickly, pondering over the two brothers and especially the younger prince until you fell into a restless slumber when the emotional exhaustion took over.

When you woke again, with the sun having set a long time ago, it was due to a maid—the one you had always admired for her long and wavy hair.

“Lady (Y/N)… the king has requested your presence in the throne room.”

“The king? What does the king want from me at this hour?”

“He did not say, m’lady.”

“I shall be there in a minute.” You had barely gotten rest and now, your heart was already pounding like a steam hammer again. Would Odin banish you now that you had refused to court his heir? No, worse, would he force you to become his wife? Loki would be heartbroken! One horrific thought chased the next as you made your way back to the now abandoned throne room.

When you looked up at the golden throne however, you gasped for air.

“L-Loki?” Your heart filled with pride and joy, along with confusion and worry. Loki was on the throne. What had happened? Where were Odin and Thor? “What are you doing… what is…”

“Come.” With a wave, he requested for you to approach him. Should you kneel before him now? You meant to ask if only to tease him when suddenly, he stood and unceremoniously pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck like he had in the stables—almost as if your scent had magic and numbing powers to calm him down. When you stumbled from the sudden rush of affection, he simply pulled you on his lap, needing your strength before he was able to tell you what had happened during the past hours.

“But how did the Jötuns get into Asgard in the first place?” You exclaimed when he finished. “None of this would have happened if the guards had done their job properly!”

Loki remained silent, pressing his lips together to a thin line. He had not been guilty about it when he had planned his actions, to ruin Thor’s coronation for the sake of protecting the kingdom from his idiotic rule for a while longer and he surely did not regret it. Confessing it to you, however, felt like stabbing himself with one of his daggers—right in his chest.

“It was… you? You brought the Jötuns to Asgard? Loki, what were you thinking?” Pushing him away an arm-length, you forced your heart to stay calm.

“Was there another way, (Y/N)? Thor would have brought ruin to Asgard. We both know that.”

“I understand… I understand why you… I just didn’t think you would go this far.”

Loki smiled bitterly. “Do you hate me now?”

“I could never hate you. I l-“ Quickly, you stopped yourself. “I lied, you know.” You said instead. Loki’s head shot up to study your face closely. “I lied about wanting to become queen. Because I do.”

“I see…”

You smiled. “But only with you on the throne, Loki.”

Loki looked you dead in the eye. There were tears glistening in his. “You would not say that if you knew…”

You frowned, leaning forward. “If I knew what?”

Once again, the God of Mischief failed to answer. In time, you figured. Something else must have happened today. Something he was not ready to talk about yet. But if there was anything that you could give him it was time. He breathed in sharply when you pressed your lips against him tenderly, stealing a chaste kiss and allowing him to hug you even tighter.

“What will happen now?” You whispered.

“Do not worry. I will make this right. All of it. Do you trust me?”

You nodded without any hesitation. “I do.”

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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jamestrmtx · 4 years ago

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Three | sans. (Part 1 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

meet me by the train station.

the place's bustlin' and tori's here with me, just in case you're worried 'bout meeting a stranger all alone.

That's surprisingly thoughtful.

And I'm guessing Tori means Toriel?

The goat lady who looked after Frisk?

yup.

she's gotta go deal with some legal stuff 'bout us living on the surface, so she can't stay for long.

but she'll still be here by the time you get there.

Hmm…

Now that just makes me more suspicious of you.

Tell me why it's important that only you specifically want to talk to me about this?

Doesn't Toriel know about what happened down there, too?

yeah, but…

i need to talk to you about somethin' else.

stuff that'll probably be a lil' difficult for me to explain, but that you should still know, being frisk's parent and all.

Now I'm curious.

I'm stuck in some traffic, but I should be there soon.

Would it still be okay with Toriel if I get there in the next ten to fifteen minutes?

textin' while drivin'?

My aunt chose to drive me here.

'Cuz she also said she doesn't trust the whole situation much.

heh.

alright.

tori says it's fine. she doesn't need to leave in the next hour so…

see ya soon, (l/n).

See you soon, mister Serif.

"How's he gonna know who you are if only you have a picture of him?" you aunt asks, eyes locked on the road. Her bright red nails, just as flashy as the rest of her outfit, glisten under the sun, fantasy jewellery and wrist watch doing the same. Her tanned skin almost glows with health in comparison to yours, yet to be healed from the past two months of tension and wait. There's also her signature and almost hair salon professional level of cleanliness when it came to grooming her hair, making her overall, outer appearance far more different and striking when compared to you.

"(Mom/Dad)'s all over the news now!" Frisk says, answering her question before you can even word your thoughts out in mind, too busy noticing how much you've let yourself go in so short of a time.

You plug your phone to the car charger and meet with the side view of your aunt's face. "Like Frisk said. The guy I'm meeting says my face's been thrown out on the news a lot lately, so he already knows what I look like." You pull down the mirror and take a quick look at yourself, eye bags and stress acne now partially covered with a cheap, (s/t) foundation and expression made to look less tired thanks to a full eight hours of sleep. Still, you're far from looking anywhere near to the days before Frisk's disappearance or all the pictures displayed on the news, these from a similar time. All the stress and constant sorrow was still present on most of your features, from something as subtle as the loss of brightness in your eyes to something as noticeable as the drag in your walk and the small slump in your posture.

"Do I look okay, auntie?" you ask, taking advantage of a stop sign.

Brenda spares a quick but meaningful glance at you and a small smile manages to show on her face. She stays quiet even as her eyes go back to facing the road. At a second stop, this one caused by a red light, she looks at you again, saying, "Why are you so concerned about that, dear? I get wanting to look well and dignified for meeting new people, but this is the third time you've asked me today." She giggles when Frisk does, both apparently sharing the same thought. "You look fine, by the way. Though a bit of rest could do you good." The light changes and she carries on driving, slowing down and turning on the signal when she sees the train station to her left. "How many hours do you work, by the way? If you're still working overtime, you should stop that now. Not only for my dear grandchild's sake, but for you to get your long overdue beauty sleep."

"...Sixty hours a week?" you mutter, already anticipating a dramatic reaction from her. Even Frisk seems to notice your answer's not favourable enough to her, so they brace themselves by grabbing on to their seatbelt and pretending they're not paying attention to the conversation anymore.

Staying true to herself, Brenda almost slams the brakes just as she's halfway into parallel parking and snaps her gaze over to you, eyes wide and mouth agape. "What?!"

"Sixty a week," you repeat, louder now. "I had to get my mind off Frisk going missing somehow, so I... took that chance to save up some more by working overtime."

"That's fifteen hours too much, dear." She frowns. "That's either twelve hours a day for five days a week, or working non-stop every day for at least eight to nine hours! No wonder you look so stressed. What about your friends? Your family? Your coworkers?" She seems to notice why you've lowered your voice and does that herself, reminded over Frisk's presence at the back seats. "Oh, honey…" She sighs. "Did you really just work, eat, and sleep those two months they were gone?"

"...Maybe," you reply, looking away from her. "I just didn't know what else to do, and having free time for myself made me feel more guilty about it. The only time I sat down was to watch some TV for when I couldn't sleep at night."

Your aunt finishes parking and lets out another sigh. A gentler look crosses her eyes and she gives in, letting her body relax. "Do you have enough to get by? Please, be honest with me so I can help you out. Alright?"

You smile back at her and nod. "I have enough now. I'm pretty sure I can get by with a regular schedule again."

"With weekends off?"

"With weekends off."

Her smile grows and she unlocks the car, allowing you to step out. "Be careful out there, alright? Just make sure to call me and I'll head back here straight away if anything strange comes up."

"Thank you, auntie. So I'll pick up Frisk at five?"

"Oh, there's no rush. You can always stay the night, anyway!"

After a nod, you get down from the car, open the back door, and climb onto the empty seat left next to Frisk.

"See you later, dear."

You kiss their cheek and look at the phone resting in their hands. There were plenty of questions you wanted to ask them, such as who was Alphys and how she'd gained enough knowledge to develop something with that level of technology, and why it still worked up here despite being programmed to function at the Underground. You remind yourself of the people waiting for you at the train station and wrestle those curiosities down, setting all questions aside for later. "Be good, okay?"

They nod, sign a "Love you!" with their hand, and hold you back to give you a yellow sticky note, folded in two. "Give this to him. And don't forget he can be unexpected sometimes!"

You sign an "I love you, too" back to them, take the note, and step out of the car, waving at them and your aunt before closing the door and pocketing the note away. It stays unread, and while you'd like to know what's written on it as well as the reasons for Frisk warning you about meeting with that monster in particular, they'd specified it was for more sillier reasons, like that of meeting up with a stand up comedian, or more frankly put: a clown or a court jester.

Now alone, you take out your phone and check the messages, a new one from 'Mister Serif' showing up.

hey, uh…

tori hadda go.

an emergency happened, so now she's gotta rush off to the department to see what's up with some documents she turned in.

i know this seems sus as hell, so just wait for me at a more open area, alright?

stick to anybody you're comfortable with and we'll meet there.

I'm honestly touched at how much you're worried about this.

Though all that just makes me think I'm being catfished even more now.

Are you for real, mister Serif?

Can someone be as observant and thoughtful as you appear to be?

see for yourself.

>> Attachment - 1 image

You can't avoid being taken aback when the monster sends you a picture of himself. It's a definite recent one, given he's sitting by a bench close to the train tracks. He holds up a shaka sign with one hand and a coffee cup on the other. A grin decorates his face and the bright lighting shows the picture was taken just now, sun rays piercing through the windows.

I'm somewhat convinced.

need more proof?

Who are you, my Cinder match?

if u wanna.

Oh God.

You're killing me.

inna good way?

Perhaps.

You stop yourself when you realize you're on the verge of flirting with someone you haven't even met in person yet, let alone introduce yourself properly to. The picture he'd sent doesn't help either, as you can only begin to question yourself and your morals over having found him attractive for a split second. While it could have just as easily been the surprise of him sending a picture out of nowhere, it could've also been how laid-back he seemed in that picture, striking a shaka sign that made him look just like a surfer dude and a coffee cup to contrast with that vibe, adding a spark of the typical college student you saw at campus, his hoodie and sneakers only adding to that feeling.

It's then that you realize something's off.

If he was holding a cup with one hand and a sign in the other…

Then who took the picture?

Though you're pretty sure you're overthinking the situation now, you're still better safe than sorry and take advantage of your recent fooling around with him to pass that worry off as a joke.

Wait a minute, mister Serif.

yeah?

If you're holding a cup with one hand and striking a pose with the other, then who took the picture?

Or did you use your magic for that?

a random dude who looked trustworthy enough took it for me.

he's one of those guys who're totally ok with us living here at the surface, so he just snapped the picture for me and even asked if it was for a date i was gonna meet and all.

no magic needed.

And I'm the President of the United States.

But, seriously now…

Are you for real?

yeah.

>> Attachment - 1 image

The picture displays him with a bearded, brown skinned man clad in a suit and holding a suitcase, looking ready for work. Still, his smile shows little to no seriousness and instead displays youth and content over having his picture taken with a potential friend. His height surpasses the monster's by half a foot, though when you compare it to the rest of the people in the background, it's clear Serif is simply shorter compared to the average human. You try not to let your eyes linger too much on the monster when you're done looking at the man, not wanting to fall into the trap of your mind having found him attractive earlier ago. Still, you can't help yourself and take a more thorough look at him again, seeing him now with his eye sockets closed, almost mimicking a pair of eyelids squinting in joy. His arm's hung over the man's shoulders, and vice-versa.

i made a new pal.

"meet up already!" - his words, not mine.

Trying to be smooth, huh?

maybe.

is it working?

Somewhat.

But...

Strange Cinder date vibes aside,

I'm almost there.

aight.

can't wait to meet ya, bud.

You slip the phone back in your pocket and go up the stairs of the train station, stopping when you make it to the line of benches close to the tracks. True to his word, the skeleton sits on one of them and the man who'd taken a picture with him is now waving at him, seemingly saying his goodbyes and headed off to work. You approach the station one careful step after the other, pace slowing down more and more as you feel a sudden awkwardness slip on your shoulders.

Your texts sent off vibes you didn't want present now that you were about to meet him in person. You were still worried about what happened with Frisk a few days ago, and how their happiness pretty much froze when being asked if the monsters had treated them well during their time at the Underground. The one you were about to meet could very well be one of those who'd hurt them, so you brace yourself and try not to be swayed by the softer atmosphere present during your texting with him. You acknowledge the man who'd taken his picture with a wave and a smile back at him. Then, you continue walking and finally approach the bench.

"It's nice to meet you, mister Serif." You acknowledge him with a wave, unsure of how friendly you can be with him.

"Likewise, pal." He holds a hand out to you, bringing forth the warning Frisk had given to you about him.

Out of all the things Frisk had warned you about, it was to be careful around the skeleton, but primarily due to how he seemed to be the type to joke around and prank people often. One thing in particular you were warned about was in shaking hands with him, so right as he offers his hand out to you and just as you're about to reach out, you miss his hand, take a step closer, and pull him along for a hug instead. You then unfold the sticky note and press it against his back with enough pressure for him to feel it and let go when you're done.

"Frisk warned me about you, and even though they haven't told me anything I should be worrying about yet, I do know I should be careful for other reasons. And they told me to give that note to you, by the way."

You sit down and watch as the monster attempts to get the sticky note unstuck, his short height proving to be a disadvantage, as it also comes with shorter arms. He goes as far as to use his magic to get it out, leaving you to bite back a smile and wonder if you've been too rude with him just now. Still, you wait and keep your eyes on the train tracks while he reads the note you've left for him.

"Not gonna say anything about it?" you ask, surprised to hear nothing from him even as he slips the note in his pocket.

"Patience, pal," he replies, words followed with a chuckle and continued with a wink. "Just take it as some friendly payback on my part -- Now we're even." He sits back down and meets with your eyes, his expression changing from humoured to stern at the drop of a hat. "So, what you're sayin' here is the kid hasn't said much about me yet?"

"No," you reply, hesitating. You fight between keeping a smile and a frown. "They've been awfully quiet after I asked them if there were any people down there who treated them badly." You catch yourself becoming emotional, so you breathe and blink a few times to fight that back. "It... It feels like they shut themselves away from me, and now I'm not too sure about how to approach the situation anymore." You stop to catch your breath again, feeling yourself grow anxious already. "They can talk non-stop when it's about all the good things Toriel, Alphys, Papyrus, and… And even what you did for them, but whenever I ask if there was anything that made them feel unsafe, they… They bottle up and run off to do whatever chore there's left to do around the house."

A gust of wind helps freshen up your burning face, product of a train stopping nearby. You wait for him to speak up, body tensed all the while.

"Y'know, I…" The monster sighs, faces down, and rubs the back of his neck, looking lost in thought. "I think I can answer that for ya, but it's gonna be a bit of a long story." He glances at his phone for a moment, seemingly to check the time, and later adds, "Wanna head out somewhere to eat? We can talk about it there over food and drinks. Better than talkin' on an empty stomach, don't you think?"

Despite how somber the mood's become, that trademark grin of his you've already grown used to seems to stand out a lot more now, bringing forth a genuine, welcoming expression in addition to the offer he'd made to you. "Sure," you reply, smile returning. "And... Sorry for dumping all that on you all of a sudden."

You both stand up and make your way out of the station, walking side by side as you continue with the conversation.

"It's cool, pal," he says. "I'd be a lot more worried if you didn't worry about it."

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This turned out to be a whopping 7k+ word long chapter, so it's been divide into 3 parts (between 2k to 3k words each, which is the usual length of each update).

So... Long story short: there'll be a double update next week in order to post Parts 2 and 3!

Expect the same thing for whenever a chapter exceeds that limit. :-)

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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