#I needn’t elaborate ����

[schrodingers-hoarding-problem]

people insane about fengqing are also insane about kavetham

source: i am insane about both of them

[prettyiwa]

I am once again thinking about the intimacy and evolution of calling someone by their name and the way terms of endearment grow and come to be.

[livvyofthelake]

list of ken dolls i had as a child

the one who’s head i ripped off because he had a cool shell necklace that i wanted to put in barbie

the one my sister and i used to take turns throwing at the wall to see if he’d break

troy bolton. he sang :)

the guy from the pegasus movie. i have no recollection of playing with that doll at all i think i only kept him intact to be the token boy

this is real objective evidence for why ken doesn’t fucking matter… yes ryan is being SO funny, that doesn’t mean ken is worth caring about… he was right when he said nobody has ever fucked with ken…

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[theoldsports]

Mirror

Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.

18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.

longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.

CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE

The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.

Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.

“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You look like a bum.”

“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.

Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.

“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.

“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.

“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.

An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“

“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”

[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.

She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.

“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.

Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.

[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.

“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.

“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”

“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.

“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.

“Get in the shower.”

[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.

“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.

[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.

“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.

“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”

“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.

“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.

“Who else?”

“I see. You know she’s—“

“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.

“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.

“I’m sure you do.”

It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.

“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.

[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.

It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”

Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

“You poison it?”

Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.

Sins almost all forgiven.

—

Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.

No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.

When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.

After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.

Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.

Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’

[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.

“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.

“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.

She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.

Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.

[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.

“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:

“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”

He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.

As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.

Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.

She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.

“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.

[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.

Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.

[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.

[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.

She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.

[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.

Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.

Capitol magic.

“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.

Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”

She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.

“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.

“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.

“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.

A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.

[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.

“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.

Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.

“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.

“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.

“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.

“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”

The Snows-to-be nodded.

“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”

“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.

“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.

“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.

“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.

Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”

Fuck.

“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”

“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”

“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“

It was worse.

The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.

Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.

None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.

[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.

Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.

[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.

[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.

“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.

“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.

“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”

Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”

“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“

“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”

“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“

Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.

“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.

Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.

Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.

—

The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.

The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.

“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”

“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“

“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.

“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”

“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”

“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”

“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”

“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“

“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”

“I—“

Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.

He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.

He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.

Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.

The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?

The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.

Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.

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apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.

[rinhaler]

drinking toji's spit out of a dog bowl isn't gross it's HOT AF

if you are ever willing to elaborate on that I'd happily read it and rb the shit out of it 😌😌

++ 𝐫𝟎𝐬𝐞𝐬𝟒𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝: 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭….. 𝐈𝐌��𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆 🤤🤤🤤🤤

doubling up again bc they go hand in hand methinks. ALSO I do have another fic planned with the collar concept in mind but when I write that is unknown so.. whomp

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, pet play, age gap, calls the reader 'puppy', use of 'puppy cunt', spit, slight nipple play, daddy kink, fingering, squirting, lewd fluid drinking!

words: .5k

Toji isn’t a jealous man, though he is insecure. He’s older than you by a fair amount, though that’s never been an issue for you. It’s part of what drew you to him, in fact. But it’s a sore spot at times when he sees you mingling with men your own age.

He likes to think he fucks too perfectly for you to want to leave him.

But he likes to remind you who you belong to.

You remember when he first got you the collar. He rarely lets you take it off. Only when have to go somewhere you need to dress in formal attire. He hates it when you wear it and still try to cover it up with a scarf or a turtleneck.

The point of the collar is to that everyone knows who you belong to.

You remember your blood turning to ice in your veins when he dropped a pretty pink dog bowl at your feet with a malicious smirk on his face. You yelped as he connected a leash to your collar and yanked you down to your knees.

He had you on all fours like a dog, cock hardening as you looked up at him looking oh so frightened. You couldn’t forget who owns you, not after this.

Your eyes widened in horror as he spat down into the bowl again and again and again.

“Go on, lick it up.” he demanded. The longer you took to obey, the more fury began to build behind his stare. He softened again as you began to lick at his spit, slurping it up and doing all you could to make sure you cleaned the plastic bowl. “Good puppy,” he chuckled, spitting more and more.

He didn’t care where it landed, not really. You looked just as pretty with his spit bubbling on your face as you did licking it like a desperate slut from a bowl.

Truthfully, he was surprised that you had obeyed so quickly. Maybe he was feeling insecure for no reason at all. But that couldn’t be, could it? He couldn’t be imagining a feeling that needn’t be there.

Nevertheless, he saw it fit to reward you for your obedience.

You couldn’t deny how your cunt clenched and squelched so wonderfully as he fingered you vigorously. You hummed and cooed so gorgeously for him as he toyed with your sensitive nipples and curled the heavy pads of his fingers against your sweet spot.

“You like it when daddy stuffs this puppy cunt, yeah?” he smiled, kissing softly against your cheek as he continued working your insides. “Y’look so pretty all fucked out f’me, sweetheart. Cum for me, puppy, make a mess for your daddy.”

You orgasmed boisterously, a jet of liquid spurting out of you. It coated your inner thighs and his fingers, droplets splashed onto the tile floor of the kitchen. Though Toji’s smile only grew as he achieved his aim of making the majority of your release fill the bowl.

He forced you back down onto your hands and knees, your hair tightly laced through his fingers as he forced your face entirely into the bowl.

“Messy little pup,” he cooed, “You know what to do. And remember, pretty puppies don't use their hands.”

You began to drink and slurp the clear, pooling liquid, cunt tightening at the sound of your masters satisfied hum.

He’s confident, now.

He owns you, completely.

© 2023 rinhaler

p.s. thank u @chososdoll for letting me use ur dream as inspo :3

[morgaseus]

sometimes, always, never.

inspired by @/yinyuedijun's translation. Absolute amazing fic, cannot recommend it enough!

Slight spoilers for anime onlys.

Orter Madl x reader

Orter is indifferent. 

He’s never one to act on his emotions. You’ve never seen him get angry, not even when he faced a cold blooded criminal who killed his own flesh and blood, not even when the criminal confessed to cruelly killing his child. You imagined yourself lunging at the criminal, stabbing him over and over and over and over, until he was left unrecognizable, until only a pool of blood and blobs of flesh were present. But you settled in gripping your wand so hard, your knuckles turned white. 

You’ve never seen him cry either. Not even when his friend or acquaintance as he called it, died at the hands of innocent zero’s forces. You remember him staring at the lifeless body of his friend, until you had to snap him out of it. But you’re sure, somehow, that his friend's death is the reason why he is now. 

You’ve never even seen him smile either. Not even when he’s with his family. Not even when he’s with you. Ryoh would call him a stuck up with a stick in his butt, you’d laugh and Orter would ignore him.

Sometimes you wondered if he ever loved you at all or if he was only entertaining your shenanigans. He rarely ever takes you out on dates, he’s busy, you understand, but would it hurt for him to make time for you? When you ask him how his mission was, he’d say a few words, not elaborating any further. He never says I love you first, it was always you. But he has too, right? If he didn’t he wouldn’t hold you in his arms and whisper words of promises that he’ll protect you and you needn’t worry because he’s right here, by your side. If you're ever in trouble, just call him and he’ll come right away. He’d say, his words gentle and his eyes full of warmth. How cheesy you think but hearing his words assures you.

Strange.

Sometimes you even wonder if he’s human, capable of feeling emotions. 

Something’s strange. 

Sometimes you’d wonder if you were the problem. Maybe it was you who’s reading it all wrong, maybe you were just trying to push your ideals to him. Yes, you think, maybe. 

You’d ask your friend for advice, and they’d say: You both need to work on communicating.

Something’s definitely strange. 

Orter Madl is indifferent. Ask anyone in town and they’ll say the same thing. I’ve never seen him smile. Well, he gets things done. He’s scary, unlike Mr. Ryoh. He always looks so grumpy. Maybe he just needs someone to lighten him up a bit. That just comes with being a divine visionary, I guess?

Yet why was it…he’s looking at you like he’s about to lose his entire world..?

.

Orter has a hard time expressing what he feels. He’s never cared much what others think or say about him. It’s not like he’ll get a reward or something if he refutes them, so he just let it be. But ever since Alex introduced you… yes, ever since he met you, he’s been feeling something, something he can not put a finger to, but it's definitely something strange.

Strange, definitely. 

Because for the first time Orter Madl felt what fear was. Not even Famin scared him. Not even Innocent Zero scared him. But seeing your bloodied body, in the confines of your shared home did.

It was one of innocent zero’s remnants. He’d been comfortable. He should’ve never left his guard down even after the war. Something wrong was always bound to happen. 

He held you in his arms, even when his shirt was coated with your blood. He’s always been meticulous about his clothing, always particular about it. But he didn't mind. Didn’t care. Right now, all he cared about was you.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

Orter regrets not learning advanced healing magic. He never had any use for it. Why would he when was already powerful to begin with? He believed that was enough to protect you. Stupid. Idiot. Fool. He’d been complacent. His basic knowledge in healing spells wouldn’t do any good. Not with that gaping hole in your stomach. not enough. not enough. But he promised! He promised he’d protect you! 

What a fool. 

He’d tried calling a medic. No answers. Who was he kidding? All of them were deployed already, helping thousands of injured civilians.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please don’t die. Don’t die.

Don’t leave me-!

“Why are you crying, orter?”

“Please don’t cry, please”

He almost laughed at the irony of it all. It should be him, comforting you, not the other way around.

“Can you smile for me?”

“I want to see you smile before I go” You say, your chest heaving, mouth soaked with blood.

…He complied

And for the first time he says: I love you. I'm sorry. I love you.

And you say: I know. I love you too. As the light in your eyes vanishes. 

Orter hugs your lifeless body close to him. Tears fall from his eyes. He always loves hearing your voice, sweet and melodious, but now It's quiet, too quiet, save from his heaving and sobbing. He hates it. You always smell like the flowers you grow in your shared garden. Light. Pleasant. Sweet. Light. Pleasant. Sweet. But now you smell of blood. Strong. Metallic. Putrid. Strong Metallic. Putrid. He hates it. 

Orter Madl became a divine visionary so that no more lives will be lost. Yet, what purpose would that be all if he couldn't even save you. What purpose was his being powerful- strong enough, skilled enough, if he couldn’t even save you? 

In the end, he was nothing more but a helpless individual. 

[witchezandwonderz]

The Dragon's Empress- Part Two

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Female Reader

Word Count: 2096

Part one of this story is on my masterlist- go check it out pls x

Tagged (never done this before so tagging ppl who reblogged, let me know if you want me to remove your tag): @silentwhisper666 @loxbbg @slytherin-bissqueen @groundzerosuki @rosey1981

As the council meeting concluded, Y/N stayed seated while others filed out. When the room emptied, Aegon turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “So quiet today, my queen. I thought your sharp mind might have dulled after last night’s… events,” he teased, a grin on his lips.

Y/N looked up at him, wearing a small smile. “My utmost apologies, my King, I was pondering,” she replied, leaning closer as she spoke. Aegon hummed in response, encouraging her to elaborate.

“I feel as though I know how to overcome this problem, but I’m not sure if you will appreciate my plan,” she admitted, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her. Aegon, confused by her words, leant forward to touch her hand so that she would look at him once again. He did not like seeing his wife in a state of apprehension.

“Why don’t you tell me of your plan, and I can be the decider of whether it is appreciated or not,” Aegon stated, attempting a reassuring smile, though it looked far from genuine—kindness was still unfamiliar territory for him. Regardless, Y/N knew his intentions were good, and this encouraged her to speak further.

“This uprising among the people, these rumours—they’re born from fear and resentment, not mere rebellion. A show of force will only serve to drive them deeper into it,” she spoke with passion. Aegon listened carefully, taking a moment to truly process her words.

After pondering, he let out a small laugh. “I must be misinterpreting your meaning, my love; it sounds as though you wish me to negotiate with those who wish for my death,” he laughed, taking a big swig of his wine. Y/N did not return the laugh. “Not negotiate, husband—listen to them. Listen to their thoughts and feelings.”

Aegon’s smile disappeared, and he let out a quiet, “Oh, I see.”

“You needn’t make a decision now. Think about it, and if you wish to hear my thoughts further, then come and find me,” Y/N spoke softly but firmly. She stood gracefully, moved closer to Aegon, gently pushed a lock of his blonde hair from his face, and planted a kiss upon his forehead before turning and walking out, leaving him to sit and ponder her suggestion.

Aegon thought for a while. If there was anything that terrified him, it was vulnerability. Approaching those who wished him dead would leave him in the most vulnerable position he could imagine—surrounded by those who likely supported his half-sister, Rhaenyra. Initially, he felt slightly betrayed that his wife would suggest something so dangerous. But as he thought further, he began to consider its potential benefits. After what felt like hours, he decided to find Y/N so she could explain her idea in more detail.

Aegon searched most of the grounds for Y/N, but could not find her. The outside air was freezing cold, so he hesitated to check there. Finally, he begrudgingly pulled on more layers and ventured into the cold.

What was she doing to him, he thought. He had never gone out of his way to find someone before—he had never cared enough to do so.

Aegon wandered in the darkness with Criston Cole at his side, as always. Soon, he spotted Y/N in the distance, seated in front of a tree. His brows furrowed. Why would she sit in the cold when she could be warm in their chambers?

“Remain here, Cole,” he instructed. The Kingsguard nodded and stayed in place as Aegon approached Y/N.

She hadn’t noticed him; she was too engrossed in her own thoughts. Unbeknownst to the King, Y/N did this every night. She would dismiss her guard, sit under the tree, close her eyes, and get lost in daydreams.

Despite how peaceful she appeared, Aegon couldn’t help feeling anger toward her lack of defence. What if someone found her alone and harmed her? His heart wrenched at the thought.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, standing directly above her. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, and she jumped slightly at his voice. Realising it was Aegon, she sighed in relief.

“Thank the gods it’s you; you gave me a fright!” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. Aegon tutted as he sat beside her.

“I thought someone of your intelligence would know not to sit out here, isolated,” he stated. Y/N looked at him with confusion, prompting him to continue. “You’re vulnerable here—no guards, no defence.” She smiled at his words, which wasn’t the reaction he expected. He had hoped for more of a “sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Unexpectedly, Y/N leaned forward, grabbed his collar, and pulled him toward her, crashing her lips onto his.

“You care about me,” she stated, breathless. Aegon laughed. “Of course I care about you?” His words came out more as a question than a statement.

“I thought about what you said, and I’ve decided I want to hear your plan in full. But,” he paused, looking at her, “I’m uncomfortable surrounding myself with rebels.”

“Rebels only when they’re left voiceless, my love,” Y/N said. “Show them a king willing to walk among his people, one who has confidence in his rule and strength enough to show understanding, not fear.”

Aegon felt a surge of resistance rise in him. Every instinct screamed against such vulnerability. But there was wisdom in Y/N’s words that he couldn’t ignore. She suggested something he’d never considered—a ruler’s strength wasn’t merely in intimidating his enemies, but also in reassuring his people.

After a long pause, Aegon sighed and nodded. “If this is your counsel, then I will hear it.”

Y/N nodded, pleased. She hadn’t expected him to seriously consider her suggestion. Yet she couldn’t shake a flicker of fear; she knew how much risk this entailed. If it went wrong, she would have many questions to answer, and her mother-in-law would eagerly seek revenge.

The next day, Aegon and Y/N left the Red Keep, accompanied by their guards. They had considered only taking Criston but deemed it too risky.

“Relax, my King. These people can smell fear,” Y/N whispered as they walked through the city. The bustling citizens paused to watch the couple stroll by, some with looks of apprehension, others smiling and waving. Aegon held Y/N’s hand tightly, and she squeezed his to reassure him.

“Good morrow,” Y/N smiled, bowing slightly to a group of people who had gathered nearby. To Aegon’s surprise, she walked closer to them. He tried to slow her down without drawing attention, but Y/N used all her strength to pull him along. Once close, she shook the hands of each person, looking at Aegon expectantly until he followed suit. The group, initially frowning, now wore broad smiles.

As they engaged in conversations, word of the king’s visit spread, filling the air with voices and questions. Some spoke with bitterness, others with worry, but all found Aegon’s ear.

For the first time, Aegon saw these people—his people—as voices rather than subjects. Voices with opinions that mattered, for they spoke about their own livelihoods. He had been so caught up in his family feuds that he’d forgotten not everyone cared about his family; many simply wanted a ruler who made decisions for them.

He knew his morals were flawed, and he wasn’t the kindest king Westeros had seen, but his wife was. That was power in itself.

They returned to the Red Keep an hour later, exhausted but purposeful. Aegon, particularly, was in high spirits, pleased with how the interaction had gone. Unfortunately, his council did not share his enthusiasm.

Alicent and Otto—mother and grandfather—greeted them with displeasure.

“How dare you take my son to be scrutinised by those people!” Alicent spat, her eyes like daggers on Y/N.

Aegon wanted to speak, but knew he’d be silenced by both women.

“Scrutinised? This was perhaps the best decision he’s made,” Y/N replied calmly, though her anger was evident.

“You stupid girl,” Otto muttered.

“Pardon?” Aegon said, moving closer to him.

“This should not have happened,” Otto muttered again.

“How dare you call my wife—your Queen—such insolent names. I should have you hanged for treason. My wife has been a better Hand than you ever were. Do better,” Aegon stated. He turned to his mother, raising a finger. “One week, Mother. In one week, you’ll hear the people’s thoughts, and I guarantee they’re in my favour.”

Aegon’s brother, Aemond, entered the room. Y/N hadn’t interacted much with him—she found him strange, intimidating, and untrustworthy.

He muttered something unintelligible, then swept out. Judging by everyone’s expressions, no one else understood him either.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and fuck my beautiful, intelligent, and loyal wife,” Aegon declared, grabbing Y/N’s hand and whisking her away.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N- Please like, reblog and comment if you enjoyed:)

My requests are open!

[shirefantasies]

Hello, may I please request fem reader x Elrond? With reader that is quite avoidant when it comes to touch, but accepts hugs and kisses from Elrond? I hope it is okay 👉👈 thank you so much in advance, have a wonderful day 💕💕💕💕

Yes, sorry this took so long but here we are! Hope you enjoy how this came to me, a one-shot featuring a third party POV as well as ‘yours’ 😊

The Steel Lady of Imladris- Elrond x F!Elf!Reader

It was known to the surrounding lands that in the Last Homely House one might be surprised by whom they meet; the lord of the land, after all, had a lady by his side, one whose presence was said to carry the chill of a harsh wind with her presence. Resolute as her home's walls, she cut quite the contrast to the hearths always said to be awaiting visitors of the fair valley. Perhaps she was even a witch like the one dwelling in the woods of Lórien.

Such were the rumors swirling in the mind of Rivendell's dwarven visitor, called there as he was to offer his people's wise council. Ha! What was it that had those pointy-ears finally asking for their help Gimli did not know, but happy was he to attend with his father at his side.

Riding in with his kin, he took in sailing white arches and a very well-constructed bridge, hearing his father mutter all the while about how nothing had changed. He had stopped there once before some sixty years ago, after all, during the dragon incident.

A whole gaggle of elves awaited there, some armored but most just decked out in their pretty finery, one clad in white emerging from the center with a deep blue-clad figure upon his arm. Long, elaborately twisted strands of dark hair hung onto his raiment and a circlet of silver crossed his forehead. Likewise, the woman at his side had what hair she could done with equal finesse, a matching headpiece, and a dress more closely tailored than the lord's robes. Elrond and his consort, the so-called Steel Lady of Imladris.

Sure enough, fair as you were your face was resolute as you stepped forward, practical even as you curtsied, surrendering the smallest of smiles. Ready for a fight as he was, Gimli wasn’t sure he’d want to take you on. At least, not without the proper head start and all.

You flinched as Gloin clapped a hand to your back, stepping forward in utter avoidance of his touch. Disrespectful though it may have seemed, you equally avoided one of your elven fellows’ advances. Gimli shook his head. Cold as they came.

~

Alright, fine, maybe this wing of the place was a little confusing. He still could figure it out for himself. One more corridor and it would be golden-

“Trouble yourself not, My Lady.”

Tilting his head, Gimli took a few steps forward, was availed the sight of Lord Elrond…holding you at the elbows, pulling you closer? The sound of… you giggling?

He’d turned away, but that sound along had Gimli swiveling around the corner again. Your head tilted and leaned onto the dark-haired elf’s shoulder. A smile cut further across your face as his lips fell to the crown of your head.

“You needn’t spend any more time in the crowds than you must. It was simply right to have you at my side for greetings.”

“I like being at your side, though,” you whispered, peeling your head from Elrond’s chest to kiss him once, twice, and far more lingering.

All right, that was enough. Off to bed. Gimli turned, trying the other fork in the hall with a faint smile playing upon his lips. Steel Lady indeed.

~

“Greetings, Madam.”

Frowning slightly, you turned to see if your eyes had deceived you; they had not- one of the visiting dwarves removed his helmet in your presence, giving you a jolly little bow.

Generally you were…unsuccessful, shall you say… with guests. Aversion to touch had bloomed from the harsh experiences of your past life, making trust a challenge. No bearing upon their race or character, but outsiders posed a threat. Disrupting routines, bringing louder, brasher customs. Viewing you as either held in thrall to their impositions or else some myth beyond their metaphorical touch.

Elrond was the anchor in your vast sea of anxiety, the only one who saw through story, perceived emotion seemingly unexpressed. Displayed hope and kindness abundant as the cleanest of springs.

But now stood a dwarf of all people fixing you with earnest hazel eyes. Understanding. What should you do?

A smile shook its way to your lips. “Good morning,” you chose a customary greeting. Standard, safe.

“Aye,” the dwarf nodded, “it is, isn’t it? Well, I know you elves like to keep time, so I'll be off to breakfast before there is none. Tell me your favorite and I will save you some if I can."

Stranger or not, you were sure anyone could have read the shock upon your face. Shaking it quickly aside, you kept your face neutral as you named it and gave a thanks. As the dwarf went on his way, he bid you his final farewell by your title, yes, but also your name. They didn't usually use your name.

Light footsteps rang out behind you, barely perceptible even by your sensitive ears. "And what was that about, hm?" Elrond.

Tension melted from your shoulders as the curious little quirk of your lips burst into a wide smile. Turning on your heels, you slid your arms about your husband's waist, relaxing when his hand caressed the top of your head.

"The dwarf," you answered, "he was so kind. Not in that rough way so often seen, but...genuine. Caring. Like he wanted to see me smile. Could someone have challenged him?"

You feel your husband's head shake. "How many times must I remind you," he teased, "of the light that lies in your eyes? That which reaches deepest into the heart. Surely he felt no challenge than that. Indeed, I would say he simply sees you as I do."

Heart thumping, you loosened your grip on Elrond to meet his lips in a loving kiss, safe in the warmth of his words and his hold upon you. Bit by bit he encouraged you to be brave, never leaving you adrift for long, you reflected as he took your hand, bidding you lead the way to the greater halls at your ready.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[middleearthpixie]

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Eleven

Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.

War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.3k

Read on AO3

Butterflies fluttered about in Eirlys’ belly as Madris steered her to the bench at her vanity. “This is silly, Madris. He knows what to expect. He’s a man and has probably done this a thousand times before.”

“Eirlys!”

“What?” Eirlys met her horrified gaze in the large oval mirror above the vanity table. “Have I said something I shouldn’t?”

“Well… not exactly, I suppose. But what do you know of what he expects?”

“Because Tauriel and I did speak. And quite often.”

“And that’s what His Majesty gets for allowing the two of you to become friends.”

“That is neither fair nor kind, Madris.” Eirlys shook her head. “I never thought you to be anything of a snob, you know. Tauriel was like a sister to me and I miss her so terribly now.”

“Well, ordinarily I’m not, but… well… you are a young maiden and should have been innocent of such things until you were married.”

“And now I am. And I know full well what Thorin of Erebor will expect this night and all I can hope is that I do not disappoint him. I’ll imagine he’s been with a fair number of women before me.”

Although her cheeks grew ruddy, Madris merely asked, “What makes you think so?”

Eirlys stared at her in the glass. “Have you not seen what he looks like, Madris? Tauriel thought Kíli handsome, but Thorin makes him look like a mountain troll.”

“My lady!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Well… no, I don’t suppose I can. But, again…” Madris sighed sharply, her cheeks growing redder still. “What did Tauriel tell you? Just so I know what I should tell you.”

The butterflies worsened and her cheeks grew slightly warm, but Eirlys still managed a smile. “You needn’t tell me anything, Madris. I’ll be fine and your face might melt completely off otherwise.”

“Are you certain?”

Eirlys let her gaze drop to her own reflection. Her cheeks were only slightly pink, despite the growing heat in them. “Well…. I suppose…”

“What is it?”

“What if I do disappoint him? What if I disappoint him so greatly, he seeks his comfort elsewhere?”

“You know him better than I do,” Madris replied carefully, sinking onto the elaborately carved chest at the foot of Eirlys’ bed. “Do you think he would do such a thing?”

“I don't know. I only know him slightly better than you, remember.”

“Fair enough. But,” the mattress squeaked softly as Madris got to her feet and moved to cup Eirlys’ chin, “do not worry and do not compare yourself to any who might have come before you. You will benefit from anything he’s taken away from previous experience. And besides, you know not that he will even compare you. Men are funny that way. They tend to forget those in their past when they are caught by the one with whom they are meant to be.”

“Meant to be? Madris, my father arranged this marriage and it’s mostly one of convenience.”

“Perhaps,” Madris straightened up as a gentle knock sounded, “but I saw how he looked at you, both during the ceremony and after. I’m not entirely sure it will remain a marriage of convenience. For either of you. At least, not for very long, anyhow.”

“Eirlys?” Thorin called softly, knocking once more. 

Eirlys swallowed hard, her hands falling into her lap, into the pale ivory silk of the nightgown that had been left laid out on her bed by one of the servants. The fabric was cool and smooth, but wrinkled easily, so she smoothed out the newest creases and said, “You should probably let him in.”

“Of course.” In a rare breach of protocol, Madris bent to press a kiss into the top of Eirlys’ head. “Worry not. You have nothing to fear, love.”

Tears poked the backs of Eirlys’ eyes at the maternal touch, and smiled as she slowly nodded. “I hope not.”

“You won’t. I feel it in my bones.” Madris stepped away from the bench and crossed to the door, where she tugged it open and greeted Thorin with a warm, “Good evening, Your Majesty. I apologize for the wait.”

“It’s of no trouble,” he hesitated, “Madris, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. If you require me for anything, you need only tug the cord alongside Her Highness—erm—Her Majesty’s bed. I will bid you both a good evening and once more offer you my best wishes on your marriage.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Madris took her leave and as the door clicked shut, Eirlys’ belly gave a might leap. She suddenly felt terribly underdressed in the nightgown, as it was far more revealing than anything she’d ever worn before, with a plunging neckline, edged in lace, that offered up more than a peek at the inner curves of her breasts.

And that wasn’t all. The sides were lace, and would leave little to the imagination when she stood. She stared at her reflection, swallowing hard when she realized the gown was sheer enough that she could make out the dark shadows of her nipples through the silk. Oh, my…

Madris had set out a silk and lace wrapper for her as well, but it currently lay draped over the foot of her bed, where it had been set earlier alongside the gown, and a sudden, unfamiliar shyness swept through her, rendering her incapable of rising.

“Is something the matter?” Thorin’s voice was still soft, his boots thudding dully on the floor as he came into the room and appeared in the glass behind her. He looked tired, his eyes heavy-lidded, as he eased the brilliant blue tunic he wore over his head.

Her mouth went suddenly dry at the unexpected sight of her husband’s bare chest. He’d shown no hesitation in whisking the garment from his body, no shyness at all, and it was easy to see why.

He was, without a doubt, the most powerfully-built man she’d ever seen. Thick, curly black hair shot through with silver spilled over broad shoulders and tumbled down his back. A heavy mat of black hair curled away from his skin, covering his barrel chest from shoulder to shoulder and down over his belly, where it disappeared into the waist of his black linen trousers. He bore more than a few scars, and the upper right side of his chest was inked with an intricate pattern of lines of varying size that curved along his upper arm and over his shoulder as well. 

Draping the tunic over his forearm, he said, “Where should I put this? It needs to be laundered.”

“O—over in that—that basket.” She rose and then turned to point to the tall, narrow woven basket in the far corner, near her wardrobe. “Maylin will take everything in the morning, while we are at breakfast.”

To her horror, his eyes widened at the sight of her and the urge to throw her arms across her chest nearly strangled her. Especially when those pale blue eyes moved slowly up to meet hers.

Then, he offered up a sheepish grin, balling up the tunic to throw at the basket. The basket bumped softly against both the wall and the wardrobe, but the tunic landed squarely inside it. “I beg your pardon, Eirlys. I wasn't expecting you to look so… striking…”

The uncomfortable heat became far more pleasant with those words. She still felt far too exposed, but for a moment, she didn't mind it. “Thank you.”

The sheepishness left his smile and he lowered his hands. She swallowed hard as he reached for his heavy gold belt buckle, and it rattled when he unbuckled it. Any moment now and those elegant trousers would simply spill from him to puddle at his feet.

But to her surprise, the gold belt with its heavy buckle slid easily through its loops, and his trousers remained firmly in place. He turned to let it fall atop the chest, and while he had his back to her, Eirlys practically dove at her wrapper and was shrugging into it as he turned back.

His smile widened, his eyes dancing with something that looked very much like merriment as he said, “I wish you wouldn’t worry so much about covering yourself. You’ve no need to, you know.”

Heat swirled through her, caused her to pull the ski robe more tightly about herself. “I—I beg your pardon?”

He took a step closer to her. “You looked fine the way you were.” 

As he spoke, he caught the edge of the wrapper, curling his fingers into the stiff lace. Her heart pounded against her ribs at his gentle tug, at the lace scraping lightly against her. Her cheeks felt like they had to be bright scarlet by now, but there was no denying how the sudden race of her blood was far more delicious than it was unnerving. It almost made her tingle from the inside out.

He leaned toward her then, the coarse whiskers along his chin scraping her just as lightly as the lace dragging against her collarbone did, and when his lips found hers, they were warm and soft and gently teasing.

Eirlys met him, letting her hand come to rest against his bared chest, her fingers slipping into hair that was far softer than she imagined it would be. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat, steadily at first, but as his lips parted and his tongue swept along hers, it sped up, thumping hard and fast beneath her touch. 

His lips moved against hers, going from warm to hot as his tongue slid deep along hers, teased hers, drew it back into the wet heat of his mouth, where she did the same to him. The lace scraped harder now, the silk skimming her left shoulder as it spilled from her to pool in the crook of her bent arm. 

Fire filled her as he deepened his kiss, his hunger feeding hers. Another gentle tingle swept through her, the warm silk a caress against her now-too-sensitive skin. Her nipples beaded against it to bring a sigh to her lips. The silk teased those aching beads now, her back bowing of its own as if to encourage him to let his hands wander down to her breasts, to cup them and tease her nipples further still. 

But to her great impatience, he showed no interest in her breasts, but instead caught the wrapper with both hands now to shove it from her, and she lowered the hand resting on his chest to let it spill from her.

A thick arm slid about her waist, drew her flush against him and she couldn't hold back her gasp as that crisp hair combined with the hot smooth silk to torment her further. Tiny knots tightened deep within her, first in her belly, but then they dropped lower and she was all too aware of the damp heat now swelling between her thighs. 

He bent her back slightly, groaning softly into her mouth as the motion thrust her breasts firmly against his chest. His free hand skimmed down along her hip, his fingers brushing her bared skin as he slowly tugged the silk gown up, along her calf, over her knee, toward her hip. 

His fingertips came rough upon her aching skin, and as they swept along the back of her thigh, she shivered against him, lifting that leg to arch against him, against the sudden, firm bulge she felt at the apex of his own thighs. 

The hand on her hip swept around, curved against her cheek to clasp her hard against him. His gentle thrust was almost her undoing, as it sent a spiky hot pleasure rippling through her, one that had her mewling with pleasure into his mouth. 

He drew back, breaking his kiss, but then moved to sweep his lips along her chin, her neck bowing as he moved along it, as he kissed his way down into that plunging vee, along the inner curve of her left breast. 

Eirlys couldn't keep her heavy-lidded eyes open. The sensations racing through her rendered her addled and aching for more. She couldn't breathe, her head spun too wildly and her heart raced unlike it ever had before. Desire, strong and sweet, flooded her and without thinking, she slid one hand down between them, to curve it against that swollen part of him, her curiosity as strong as her need. She had never seen a naked man before and as she traced along his thick length, her imagination ran wild with what she would soon see with this one.

“Eirlys…” her name was a breathless, heated whisper along the curve of her right breast, and she shivered as he shifted and his mouth closed over her nipple, his tongue dampening the silk as he slowly traced about the bead he’d caught. The combination of wet silk and his rough tongue set off a chain reaction inside her, made those knots twist and tighten as arousal flooded her.

He rocked against her, the pressure offering only hints of relief. 

Then, his fingers brushed down into the crease of her thigh and bottom and then—

“Oohhh…” she breathed heavily into his hair as his fingertips brushed the curls shielding her womanhood from his eyes. Those curls parted. And his fingers teased lightly along aching flesh that had been touched by no man before him. 

Her curls parted. His caress slow and teasing as he slid one fingertip along her, as the pad of that finger just brushed over the sensitive bead nestled within. 

Her fingers tightened on him involuntarily, a cry bubbled to her lips as he then slipped that same finger slowly inside her. She tightened about it, her hips moving of their own as he did a slow, teasing stroke that had her sinking her free hand into his thick hair. She twisted and held on, her body begging him to move faster, the knots threatening to come undone in the sweetest of ways. She teetered on the unfamiliar edge, clinging to him, rocking to meet each teasing thrust, each delectable swirl.

He teased her until she thought she’d burst, until she thought she’d go mad with the need for some kind of release. Her head spun madly. Her body begged for his, for that part of him that would bring out the relief she so desperately sought.

His name rose of its own to her lips, a husky, raw whisper, “Thorin…” 

His tongue swirled about the silk, about her nipple. His finger moved silkily inside her. The knots tightened further still. Every muscle seemed to tense, hot and tight and aching with need.

Then he shattered her.

She cried out, unable to hold it back as the knots exploded and fire rained upon her, spun wildly through her, left her dizzy and raw and clinging to him as each delicious pulse swept through her, as she tightened about him and her fingernails dug into his nape, her fingers twisted sharply in his hair. Oh, this was beyond amazing, this pleasure that tore through her like a wildfire, that washed over her like a tidal wave.

He caught her around the waist with his free arm, kissing his way back to her lips before drawing back. Then, he swung her effortlessly into his arms to spirit her to her bed, where he bent to set her down, looming over her, his black hair spilled all around them. 

Thorin bent to her, his mouth hot and hungry as it found hers, his kiss filled with the same fire and desire he’d sent sweeping through her. Without thinking, she freed the buttons of his trousers to shove her hand inside and beneath the hot linen she found even hotter man. That hard part of him was hot and veined, the skin soft and almost supple. Her fingers moved of their own along his length, about his thickness, and when she curled her fingers about him and swept her hand down, he shuddered against her.

He arched into her touch, his groan low and throaty, a shudder rippled through his body and his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth. With each stroke, he grew harder, thicker, and she smiled as he moaned softly. She might not know exactly what she was doing, but he certainly seemed to have no complaints.

His breath caught. His body tensed. His head fell into her chest as he growled, “Eirlys…”

Then, to her surprise, he grabbed her hand to pull it free from his trousers. Disappointment flashed through her, even as he breathlessly whispered, “I wish to see you.” 

She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she met his gaze. His eyes seemed brighter, far bluer now and they held hers as he shifted to catch her gown, now damp in several spots, to whisk it up along her thighs. The air was cool despite the fire crackling on the hearth, but heat swept through her as the silk rose over her hips and his gaze fell upon her. No man had ever seen her this way and the fire that gleamed in Thorin’s beautiful blue eyes spoke volumes. They fairly burned with desire and a sinful smile curved his lips as he tugged the silk higher still.

Eirlys pushed herself up and as the silk skimmed over her head, she felt his gaze before she saw it. The gown fluttered to the floor, leaving her bare before him and she almost smiled at the soft, strangling sound that rose in his throat.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching to tug off his boots and stockings before coming back up to grip the waist of his trousers. They rested on his hips and seemed to offer no resistance as he pushed them down. Linen swept along thighs heavily laden with muscle and layered with curling black hair, down along calves wrapped with bands of thick muscle.

Her mouth went dry. He was a sight to behold, her dwarf, and she had never dreamed such a magnificent man could exist.

Until now.

He offered up an impish smile. “You are staring.”

Heat climbed into her cheeks. “I beg your pardon… I did not—”

He bent to brush her lips with his. “I mind not. I find I’ve got a bit of the stares myself. You are stunning.”

He gave her no chance to respond, but claimed her lips in a teasing kiss that was gentle and sweet. Her lips parted of their own, welcomed him as it deepened, as he gently eased her onto her back and settled between her parted thighs.

He was solid and firm, but kept most of his bulk supported on his forearms. At least, he did until she slipped her arms about his middle and pulled him firmly against her. He arched against her, his sigh becoming hers as she pressed her thighs into his sides and that thick, swollen part of him brushed against her slick, aroused feminine flesh. He arched again to glide against her, and although the remnants of her climax had faded, the pleasure surged through her anew.

He reached between them and a moment later, she felt him press against her. He was gentle, moved slowly as if afraid he’d hurt her otherwise. Her fingernails bit into his back in anticipation as he deepened his kiss and pushed with a bit more force. Any moment and he would be inside her. Any—

—moment.

Ow. 

The pain came unexpectedly and she sucked in a sharp breath as it felt like he tried to tear her asunder. Hot. Stinging. Sharp. She couldn’t hold back her cry as he continued his assault.

“No… please don’t…”

She tried to pull away but he whispered, “It will stop in a moment, mesmel. I promise you, it will…”

But it didn't stop. No, it worsened exponentially and she shuddered beneath him as there came a sudden, tearing pop and then…

Then he filled her and went still against her. 

Was that it? She frowned even as the stinging subsided. It no longer hurt, but…

He moved slightly.

Her breath hitched. That definitely did not hurt.

“Eirlys?” He rose onto his forearms, gazing down at her with eyes of concerned sapphire. 

“I think I’m all right,” she whispered back, easing her grip on his back. “I just… I didn't know it would hurt.”

“But does it still?”

“I—I don't think so,” she shook her head. 

“Good.” He bent to kiss her, then offered up a slow thrust, whispering, “And that?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

Then he thrust once more, this time with a bit more fire. All traces of pain vanished and left in their wake, a sparkling pleasure that grew with each steady, controlled thrust. He moved easily inside her, silky and slow, and she savored every delectable inch of him, her thighs squeezing his sides, her fingernails biting once more into the warm skin of back. 

The pleasure engulfed her, going from sweet to spicy hot as his thrusts came swifter and more powerful now. He rose onto his forearms once more, moving faster still, his eyes screwed shut, his breath as fast and furious as his thrusts now. 

Delicious fire filled her, beginning where they joined to flood her veins, to send flashes of brilliant white light dancing before her eyes. Her head spun wildly once more, her body hummed with the need for release and with each thrust, Thorin brought her closer to that blessed end. She clung to him as he drove them both along the length of the bed, where she finally had to throw up a hand to keep from slamming into the headboard of woven branches. 

He surged hard then, crushing her close as the knots inside her burst once more and she cried out her pleasure, arching to meet him, wrapping herself about him. He drove them over the edge, her climax a shower of fire and ice and everything wonderful.

“Eirlys…” Her name was a husky growl on his lips. He thrust hard once more, tensed, shuddered, and then went rigid as he came. 

A peaceful silence, broken only by their mutual fight to draw breath, settled about them as Thorin sank against her, his head coming to rest on her breast, his breath hot blasts against her equally hot skin. 

Eirlys’ eyes were too-heavy-lidded to remain open and so she let them close, her fingers moving lightly along the silken length of Thorin’s tangled black curls, smiling when his lips ever so gently swept against the inner curve of her left breast. 

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

He lifted his head, regarding her with eyes that were just as sleepy as hers. “Isn’t that what I am supposed to ask you?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I am as well.” He shifted sightly and they both winced as he slipped free of her. He eased off her and for a moment, she thought he was going to get up and leave, which brought down her blissful mood a tad.

But then, he stretched out alongside her and reached for her, drawing her up against him as he draped his arm about her shoulders. Eirlys hesitated at first, wincing at the damp stickiness between her thighs, but as she reached to draw the sheet and coverlet about them, she forgot the mess. The wet spot behind her was another story, but Thorin didn't seem to mind her curved up against his side, and she was so very comfortable with her head resting on his chest and her arm draped over his belly.

His thick fingers swept lightly along her shoulder, along her upper arm. “I am sorry I hurt you, Eirlys,” he murmured into the growing darkness as the logs on the hearth slowly burned up. “I hope I won’t the next time.”

She smiled. “I should have remembered.” She peered up at him in the darkness, her eyes adjusting enough to make out his profile. “Tauriel warned me, you know, after she and Kíli were married.”

“Well, no one warned me.”

Her smile faded. “I suppose I’m the first virgin you’ve been with,” she murmured. 

The sheets rustled softly as he rolled to come over her. “Mesmel, you are the first woman I’ve been with.”

His eyes glittered in the pale moonlight that filtered through from the terrace and she stared up at him. “What?”

“You sound as if you don't believe me.”

“Well, because I don’t.”

“Why?”

She stared up at him, dumbstruck that he should ask such an obvious question. “Thorin… do you mean to tell me that this was your first time as well? I mean, your first time, ever?”

He smiled and dipped to brush her lips with a teasing kiss. “It was, indeed. And a better first time I could not have asked for.”

“How is that possible? I mean… how has no other woman ever caught your eye? They must have been nearly pounding down your door to get to you.”

To her surprise, he laughed. Low and smooth, it rumbled from deep within him and he shook his head. “I am flattered you think that of me, Eirlys. Truly, I am. And perhaps it is not this way for elves, but for dwarves, we remain chaste until marriage and then, we are faithful to our chosen partner for all eternity.”

Without thinking, she reached up to trace her forefinger along his jaw, over the bristly black beard shot through with silver. “But you didn't choose me, Thorin.”

“It matters not. We are bound together and so we shall stay bound together. And I consider myself quite fortunate in that, you know.”

His words warmed her, made her smile, and when he dipped back to kiss her once more, she lost herself in it and surrendered to the magic of him once more. 

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

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If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the tag list, please just let me know!

[tomorrowusa]

David Tennant recently used language not often heard on Doctor Who and Good Omens which he aimed at transphobes.

David Tennant has once again made an impassioned declaration of support for the transgender community. In recent history, the Doctor Who actor has repeatedly made headlines thanks to his allyship towards trans and gender non-conforming people – most notably with a subtle gesture during a TV interview that wound up helping to raise £18,000 for the LGBTQ+ youth charity AKT. Over the weekend, David made an appearance at the Proud Nerd convention in Germany, where he was asked by a fan about his own “relationship with gender expression”, in light of his past support for trans people. As recorded in a viral TikTok that has already accrued more than half a million views, the former Broadchurch star said: “When I was a kid, the idea of being non-binary wasn’t something that existed. It wasn’t a concept. I’ve seen that emerge, and people are able to express themselves through that. It only ever seems positive as far as I can see.” Elaborating on the “weaponisation of trans rights”, he continued: “I remember, when I was a teenager, I remember gay rights being weaponised politically. And that always felt ugly and nasty, and now, we look back on that, 30 years later, and those people are clearly on the wrong side of history. “And now, there is a similar weaponisation of these topics being taken by mostly the right-wing, or certain sections of society, trying to create friction and conflict and division where it needn’t be. It’s just about people being themselves, you don’t need to be bothered about it.” “Fuck off and let people be,” he concluded, which was met with a round of applause from the room.

Another expression of support for the trans community has come from a more unusual source – Pope Francis.

How Pope Francis opened the Vatican to transgender sex workers

The outreach reflected an unconventional pope in the most radical stage of his papacy. From his early days in 2013, when he famously declared, “Who am I to judge,” Francis has urged the Catholic Church to embrace all comers, including those living in conflict with its teachings. Now, his unprecedented opening to the LGBTQ+ community has reached its zenith — and ballooned into the most explosive issue of his tenure, fueling a bitter clash with senior conservative clerics, who have denounced him in remarkably harsh terms. In recent months, Francis has given explicit approval for transgender godparents and blessings of same-sex couples. He penned a defense of secular civil unions — once described by his predecessor as ���contrary to the common good.”

The pope has sometimes contradicted himself in this area. But his more recent actions apparently take precedence over his past words.

Pope Francis and David Tennant (who portrays a devil on Good Omens) find themselves on the opposite side of MAGA Republicans. In West Virginia, for example, candidates for the GOP nomination for governor are competing with each other to see who can be the most anti-trans.

West Virginia Governor’s Race Is a Battle of Who Can Be the Most Anti-Trans

The MAGA Republican Party finds itself on the wrong side of history in this area – as well as many other areas.

@neil-gaiman

[asksimonbelmont]

Cheers! What's your favorite place to be kissed? This time, I want an answer! 😤🤭✨️

(I love to make him embarrassed. He is soo cute! 😍)

Simon: ...I am grateful to be kissed where ever Selena chooses.

Selena: Allow me to translate: he likes kisses on his forehead, cheek, and jaw the most. Lips too, of course, but that’s reserved for when we are alone.

Selena: As for more intimate moments, he—

Simon: —come now, they needn’t know that much detail… Selena: Be more specific with your replies and I won’t have to elaborate, my husband.

[ashpkat]

do we fw the remaster of follow footsteps a bleeding bloodline or should i deactivate all my socials and go off the grid

Call speared a piece of steak with his fork and examined the pinkish glop of meat before primly resting his utensil on the rim of his plate. Eliza cooked tonight. That was never good – her meals were always undercooked or overcooked with no in-between, apparently learning nothing from her time as Viktor Madden’s wife. It wasn’t like he blamed her. Most of the time, the servants cooked for them if Joseph didn’t have the time, and he guessed it used to be the same back then, minus the part about Joseph. 

Two days from now, Alex would be returning to the Magisterium. It became a tradition four years ago for them to have a family dinner together, the lot of them sitting in the main dining room around the large dark oak table with high-backed chairs, the room set up for a meal for twenty (that was if Joseph was cooking, and based on the meager spread in front of them, that wasn’t the case – if his previous remarks on her food weren’t enough). 

To Call’s right was Drew, and her disdain for the food was more open than his without any room for politeness. She tapped her iron nails against the wood, the metal of her prosthetic arm creaking loudly in the small space, the only other sound besides the scraping of forks against porcelain china plates. He knew it was rude, but Call tried his best to divert his attention anywhere but the jagged chaos scars that lined the left half of her body. He’d gotten good at it over the years if he wanted to avoid the uncomfortable look that crossed his father's face every time Call’s gaze lingered too long on the burn scars on his face. 

And to his left was the guest of honor himself, Alex, who abandoned the prospect of touching the steak and instead nibbled on the corner of a cut piece of baguette with melted butter slathered on top of it. Unfortunately, the older boy caught Call’s eye and his face twisted in a sneer, the effectiveness only shadowed by the massive lump of bread in his cheeks. He just looked like a deranged chipmunk. The thought of chipmunks only made him think about stoats, the first animal Call ever dissected. If his appetite had been meager before, it was certainly completely gone now. 

After another minute of pretend eating, Joseph cleared his throat from the head of the table. “I’ll call for Jeffery. He’ll bring another meal out.”

“I’m good,” Call muttered under his breath, steeling his face into a carefully neutral expression. The beady, soulless eyes of a cut-open stoat wouldn’t leave his mind.

In response, his father merely cocked his head to the side and pushed himself up from his seat, the sound of his polished shoes echoing in the large chamber. The heavy door opened and shut with a click as he went to fetch the man in question. Call slumped in his seat. Eliza took a sip of her wine, raised her brows, and waved her hand at the two chaos-ridden who stood stationary by the room's paneled walls. They lurched forward, their undead bodies jerkily reaching for half-finished dinners and serving plates, carrying them off into the kitchen. A crash was heard from far off and Call repressed the urge to command them to please stop. 

Drew made a noise, twirling one of her brunette curls around her finger, the unmechanized one. “Why?” She needn’t say anything more than that. 

“Forgive me for trying to do something nice for this family,” Eliza sighed. For a moment, Call thought she was going to up and leave right then and there. Instead, she reached over to the glass bottle of aged wine that was sitting and refilled her glass to the brim, crimson liquid nearly sloshing over the side. 

Call resisted the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head (Alex did not) and instead ran his fingertip along the delicate cloth placemat with elaborate embroidery that sat in front of him. When Drew was younger, the two of them at least pretended to care for each other. But as she got older and the bitter, ongoing feud between Joseph and Eliza passed onto Drew, the carefully crafted facade shattered, and the rest of the family fell with them. Alex began to vent his frustrations onto Callum, beating him to a pulp during their sparring session if Call couldn’t get the upper hand quick enough, and Joseph spent more and more time in the lab. Typically, he dragged Call with him, which was a welcome break from sitting silently with Drew as she read in the library. They’d never been perfect, but they at least tried to look the part. Sometimes. The portrait of Constantine Madden hung up in the sitting room with a golden frame sort of prevented that from ever truly happening. 

“How are you feeling?” Drew leaned her chin onto her palm, cocking her head at Alex in an eerily similar way to Joseph. The apple never fell far from the tree and it showed in both of them. Call caught himself sitting with his ankles crossed together the same way he did and quickly adjusted his position. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Fine, I guess. I regret not staying with the Rajavi’s.” The ‘I’d rather spend a summer making out with my girlfriend than staying with this nuclear family’ went unsaid, but Eliza heard it. Her lip curled upward and she took another pointed, passive-aggressive sip of wine, the liquid staining her lips a clean red.

She started to tap her fingers against the table again, the rhythmic sound of metal hitting wood grating on his nerves. He wanted to pop her fake arm right out of the socket and throw it against the wall. “And the Magisterium? How do you feel about that?” When Drew became a therapist, Call didn’t know. 

“Shut up,” Alex responded, crossing his arms against his chest. After a beat, he added, “I plan on pulverizing the Makar boy.”

“For what he did to me?” Drew smiled, her straight teeth gleaming in the low light of the room. Candles were hardly sufficient for a room as big as that, with high ceilings, a chandelier that had heavy glass teardrops hanging off its spindly arms, and the undead lingering in the shadows. 

Call tried to bite his tongue, but the words slipped out from his lips before he could stop them. “He didn’t do anything to you. The chaos elemental was totally on you!”

“That’s not fair –”

���You knew that you couldn’t wrangle it and yet –”

The door swung open again to reveal Joseph, plus an entourage of servants,  and both of them quickly shut up, turning to face forward and stare at the wall. It wasn’t like Call was trying to defend the Makar. He wouldn’t, he didn’t know him and wouldn’t gain anything but another bitter argument between siblings if he did. However.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 2 : Crosshair x F!OC

Summary:

The transport to Ga'hah is boring, boring, boring, and though Tah'nyem makes to amuse herself with the bristly clone commander she may have bit off more than she can chew, not that she's one to admit it. She attempts to maintain focus and composure while waiting on progress into her own investigations which may reveal more than she's ready to learn. Every one seems to have let down their guard, but not everyone on the ship may be a friend.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Sexual Frustration, Mild Nudity, Explosions, (minor/ side) Death, Protective Crosshair (Professional), Touching, Angst, Defensive Crosshair.

Word Count: 6k+

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua.

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Music Inspo- The Big Empty - Stone Temple Pilots

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Chapter 2

The Big Empty

   There was a joyful buzz to the jokes and idle chatter swirling through the galley. It was just after dinner on the fourth day of our journey and I think being past the halfway point had everyone in good spirits.

The air smelled of caf and I breathed deeply from my own cup nestled in my hands, warming them in the constant chill of the military ship. 

We had dropped from hyperspace and just finished refueling at an Imperial space station. Now we proceed to the edge of the system where we’ll make the final jump to Ga’haiian space.  

I took a sip, and winced. It was still awful, but after that first headache I was willing to get used to the burnt tasting swill provided to the troopers. The Lieutenant’s hospitality seemed to have dried up after that first night. 

It had been an uneventful trip and the soldiers around me were restless and giddy at the thought of wrapping this up quickly. 

“You know, the two of you are gonna have to Kriff or knock it off,”

Well… almost uneventful. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” 

I took another sip of my caf and continued making hard eye contact with the Commander across the room at his usual spot by the dispenser. 

We had been like this for at least twenty minutes. The staring contest was a matter of pride at this point. 

“C’mon, give him a break, Seriously, he's been hoggin’ the barrack fresher the past few nights,”

The clone beside me chuckled. The second day I was here he told me to call him “Halo” and refused to elaborate. 

“He knows where to find me,”

I spoke clearly, pronouncing the words so there was no mistake in reading my lips. 

Crosshair took a big swig from his cup but still didn't look away. 

Your move. 

“The Sociopaths deserve each other,” 

I almost turned to spot whoever muttered but needn’t have bothered reacting. 

A blaster went off, singeing the floor near the offender's boot and he jumped from his stool. 

“KARKen!- You know, shyte like that doesn't help your case!”

Crosshair holstered the sidearm. He never looked away and I felt my thighs squeeze together in a sudden ache. 

Okay. You win this round… again. 

I had been losing ground over the past few days. Even with him managing to stay clear of me somehow on the small ship. When our paths crossed I was usually the one coming away breathless. 

The frustration of losing control of the dynamic was fueling a perverse feeling of loathing that could only be cured by riding that smug face of his.

My mind drifted to yesterday and our little incident. 

I had been sitting on my bunk, torso exposed as I prepared the ceremonial ink to reapply the lines that adorn my arms. 

The ink was finished heating and I picked it up from the plate. 

Carefully, I angled the ink stick to drip onto my shoulder, hissing at the familiar bite of the heat as it made contact.

The first bead carved a channel as I carefully guided it down the length of my arm to the tip of my middle finger where it dripped off onto the cloth I had laid out for the purpose. 

More drops now and  they followed the trail already blazed, thickening the line and hue into a deep black. The ink pooled under my fingernail, dying the tip. Perfect.  

I repeated the process on my other arm and finished the adornment with the proper prayers. 

“Ehv’net tohomne ku.”

…

“What does it mean?”

I nearly jumped from my skin, having been so engrossed I missed the tell tale clang of the door. 

That door was supposed to be locked… especially since someone doesn't know how to knock.

I looked over my shoulder at the clone commander framed in the doorway. 

“Let me think a moment…I suppose, indirectly, it would mean something like ‘Lines that feed the heart’,”

He stepped forward and lifted my arm to inspect the dark, even line and my breath caught in my throat.

I wonder if he missed something…

My chest was bare, the smallish curve of my breasts exposed. He hasn't seemed to notice, busy inspecting the line work. 

I made no move to cover myself, but cleared my throat softly…

He turned at the apprehensive tone and froze, eyes making their way down my bare arm to the small, rosey peaks standing stiff in the cold room. His fingers tightened on my wrist.

“You threaten my handiwork…”

He released my arm and I expected him to run off again but I felt his cool, slender fingers go back to tracing the lines of ink starting from my elbow and up. He paused at the shoulder…

My voice came out husky, the trailing fingers leaving raised bumps along my skin. 

"Lines that feed the heart?"

“Something like that…”

“I see… Your dinner is ready.”

He turned on a heel and left the room with a clang. 

…

My eyes refocused and present Crosshair still had me in his sights. 

The corner of his mouth twitched knowing my mind wasn't on our little staring match any more. A final swig of caf and he was gone. Off to do whatever it was he did around here. 

I sat straight and hauty and mad as hell. 

The jig was completely up and the soldiers around me chuckled at the heat blooming around my ears. I had lost whatever hold I might've had on them and I wasn't sure if it was my obvious drooling over their Commander or the fact that I got zapped trying to pry the caf machine apart.

Hard to hold an air of mystique while bawling your eyes out. 

I swirled my caf miserably, still convinced it was engine byproduct. 

Halo noticed my expression and patted my shoulder causing me to sit straighter as he accidentally sent a surge of tingles down my spine into my groin. I suppressed the gasp that wanted to leap from me. 

I need to get out of here. 

I smiled at the men gathered at the table and bowed an excuse darting into the hall amid a chorus of farewells. 

Jogging a few paces as I left the galley, I put some distance between myself and the happy chatter. This brought me past the bridge and I glanced inside. 

Lieutenant Hervos turned and glared at me so I stuck my tongue out at him and moved on. I had given him no reason to make good on his threats, mostly behaving around the crew. 

Mostly…

The bug I planted will run out of memory and loop tonight. I need to get it before that happens, but I have time. I pulled the small data pad from my inner pocket and double checked the timer. 

Plenty of time

Still, I'm glad I gave myself a six hour buffer. 

With nothing to do I continued down the hall to where it looped back to the main room I had entered the ship through. 

Other staff milled about, poking and prodding at lit panels around the room. They were actually busy, unlike the troopers, and I left them continuing through. A flat topped hat looked up and gave me a small wave. I returned the greeting, granting the woman a small smile.

“Kerna, in good spirits?”

“Sure Miss Ra! Almost back on solid ground again,”

The plump girl had expressed a displeasure of spacecraft during a jittery cup of caf that had apparently been her first. She also admitted that she was looking for an early out to her contract for more than a nervousness towards the vastness of space. 

“I didn't sign up to be a conqueror…”

I hadn't asked what her last assignment was but it had apparently been rough. I was starting to see a pattern developing amongst the staff. That might be good for business…

“Sit with me during break again tomorrow, I’d love to chat again before we disembark,”

She nodded and I continued through. There was nowhere to go though, and nothing to do. 

Besides the Commander everything else on the ship was a bit of a bore. So… official. As it was, it felt as if I was simply here and not the subject of the mission. I felt like I was circling a drain. 

Though it could just be how small the damn thing is.

I had once again reached the door of my stateroom. There wasn't even a holodeck onboard. 

Hesitating, I leaned against the wall and weighed my options. 

By Be’llahl, I do NOT want to spend another evening stuck in my room with only my fingers for company. 

Things weren't helped that I've made no progress on figuring out why I'm here to begin with. Besides the bug, there's been no other head way; as anyone who might be in the know developed lock jaw whenever I walked in. 

Antsy from the lack of real purpose I shoved off and headed to the hall's access to the maintenance tunnel and slipped through the suspiciously unlocked door. 

The low hum of the darker hallway closed around me like a comforting blanket. It's funny… how these kinds of places seem to be the same everywhere. 

I smiled at that, thoughts on being a teen and hiding with my best friend to smoke Dahr Root in the crevice beneath the gala hall floor. 

Young and unsupervised…

I looked around at the dark tunnel.

Story of my life.

With no real reason I started forward, planning on pacing around to just kill time before the bridge cleared out.

 Not too far down I tripped over something on the floor and stumbled, catching myself on the wall and turning to look at the sudden obstacle.

It was a boot, attached to a leg as expected and finally my eyes flicked to Crosshair, who blinked, trying to hide that he had been asleep. 

Ah hah…

I had looked for him in the tunnels before but I guess he had kept moving before now. I slid down the wall to sit across from him, our legs beside each other's crisscrossing across the passage. 

“Didn't you just finish a caf?”

He gave up the charade and rubbed his face with a hand, scratching the stubble coming in on his jaw.

“It doesn't help.”

He said it simply, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and sticking a new toothpick between his lips. 

“Why don't you just go to your bunk? It's not like you guys are working right now.”

He briefly fixed me with a look of annoyance. 

“I don't sleep around the Regs.”

His tone didn't invite further prying and I looked about the hall till the mood shifted back to something more neutral. 

I once again felt that annoying pity for the man, observing the dark circles under his eyes. This would be such a good time to mess with him too…

…

Maybe a little…

I nudged his hip with the toe of my boot. 

“You wanna massage?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. 

“No.”

“Oh come now, nothing too intrusive.”

I slid to sit even with his knees and reached for his right hand. 

“Your hands are important to your work...and this is part of my craft, let me help,”

He didn't resist but shot me an incredulous look as I turned his palm to myself and rubbed through its center with my thumbs,circling a few times before moving to the fingers. The somewhat intimate contact was coiling him a little tighter as he tried to keep his guard up. 

“Relax, just let me work,”

“I wasn't aware a governor's daughter…”

He trailed off but I kept him fixed in my gaze, brow raised at the question he had bitten back. 

“I know everything my workers know, it's respectful to know what you ask of someone,”

“So… are you… you do…?”

It was funny, watching him start and stop as he struggled with the messy topic. Poor thing. Though it was a job like any other I guess it was still awkward to ask someone if they were a whore.  

“On the menu? No. Clientele wouldn't see me as an authority that way,”

Chiding as I stretched the digits, I took note of the calluses on his trigger finger and palm, thick enough to feel through the thin gloves. They belayed the countless hours he spent honing his skills. An intrusive thoughts to what they might feel like against more sensitive flesh sent a sudden shudder through me.  

Searching his face to check if he noticed, I found his eyes sliding along the ink lines tracing the backs of my hands and then, flicking down to my chest, nearly invisible under the sweater.

I smiled softly at that, stopping my purposed stroking to bring his knuckles to my lips, catching his breath where it was. 

Finally, a point for me,

…

“This can’t happen, princess,” 

“So you keep saying, what is it? Because it's not that you don't find me captivating,”

He looked vaguely amused at the accusation, but closed his eyes and sighed deeply. 

“It just doesn't happen. Your kind and mine.”

Now it was my turn to be amused, thinking back to some well known “secrets” in the underworld about certain senators. No… “fraternizing” with soldiers was all too common. It was kept rather hush-hush, everyone looking the other way. Perhaps he has a point. 

I scooted back to slump against the wall next to him, defeated. 

“Didn’t mark you as such a stickler for protocol.” 

He was quiet for a moment.

“If it was just some time in the brig I would’ve had you that first night.”

The admission was barely a whisper, but it sent a warmth through me and I swam in the memory of him standing over me with threat and promise written into every muscle fiber. 

What do they have over you…

He put a hand on the top of my head in a patronizing move that made me huff. 

“I still have work to do, and that means not stepping on toes for a while,”

Revoke your clearance for duty maybe?

“You already had to take on your own squad, what more could they ask of a man…”

The words had been that of pity, but it hadn't occurred to me that I wasn't supposed to know such things. A pained look flickered across him.

“Who-?”

I had dug out of Halo that the Commander had once been in a crew with other enhanced clones. They apparently absconded when the new Empire was formed and no one really knew why. They're the ones that gave him the red, twisted scar that now spread over his right ear. He had apparently gotten the best of them in the end though.

“I’m sorry, the Lieutenant-” 

I started but he cut me off, his words uncharacteristically rushed. 

“To make things clear, My squad ar-were traitors…to the Empire…”

He trailed off, the weight of the burden suddenly more clear. No wonder he wasn't sleeping. 

“Seems cruel to have had you done it… if you ask me,”

He was still, mouth parting occasionally as if to add something. Eventually he settled on:

“A good soldier follows orders,”

It was a weak response, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

“... I was hoping they'd come back,”

“I'm sorry… really,”

…

“Forget it, Knowing too much can get you killed, princess…”

I let the subject fall. Obviously a heavy topic, and didn't have much to do with our present predicament. 

We sat quietly a few beats and my mind wandered back to the bug in the bridge. 

“Hey, What were your orders for this mission? … For me?”

I was hedging that he'd tell me anything, but while we're getting personal…

“Standard escort, Coruscant to Ga’hah,” 

He leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. The tension had broken, and he allowed a smirk to shine through the gloom.

“And hands off,”

There was a playfulness to that last bit and I couldn't help but smirk myself. 

“So that’s official orders then, not a general ‘don't Kriff the guests?’”

“Uh huh.”

I sighed, amused.

Guess Vah’hadarr warned them himself, Be’llahl save me. 

“Though,”

He continued hesitantly,

“I thought we were taking all three of you, That bit changed as soon as we got to your dock, new orders straight from Hervos,”

Well, isn't that suspicious…

I glanced at my data pad. Almost an hour had passed and it was time to check the bridge again. The sooner I got my device back the better. 

I tapped his shoulder affectionately and stood. Perhaps I should leave him be… 

I could really get him in trouble I suppose.

It bothered me that I cared, but as I kept telling myself, this was different. He has no choice in being trapped here any more than I did, and it's no fun poking a caged animal. 

I turned to leave and he looked up as if about to ask where I was off too, deciding against it, and settled back against the wall. 

Sleep tight, tough guy. 

I followed the path with the thicker tubing back to the end of the hall near my destination. 

Good … they cleared out. 

Slipping into the empty bridge, I walked quickly to the center console and ran my hand under the key bed. 

There you are!

I hit the stop button and extracted the recording device slipping it into my pocket. 

Mission complete, hours to spare! Now back to my room to-

The door slid open with a swish and I stiffened briefly before forcing a more relaxed pose. 

I can be here if I want. 

I stayed looking forward to the array of stars and distant planets setting my chin defiantly even though the intruder couldn't see my face… or managed to challenged me in any way yet. 

Sighing instead, I tried to relax for real. I was just on edge and should probably just see who's here. 

Before I could turn I felt the heat of them against my back and once again panic crept into my heart, causing me to hesitate before thrusting my elbow back against them. 

My armature strike was easily caught. 

“Princess…”

His voice was low and familiar, though tinged with a growl of real frustration. 

“Comand-?”

It was sudden, but I was pinned to the console, his hips holding me against the buttoned counter tight and still. I felt his fingers slide over my waistband and into my pants pocket roughly caressing the line between my thigh and vulva as he slid against the inner fabric. 

The unexpected contact elicited a shameful whimper from me as I pressed back against him desperate and involuntarily. 

His fingers closed around the small metal square in my pocket, carefully withdrawing it and holding it up to the light. 

“These are dangerous games you play,”

His words were dead serious, and I was trying to sober myself. 

Shyte…

I struggled now, trying to turn around or push him off me. 

“Wait! Give it back, you don't understand!”

He stepped away, holding the bit of metal aloft to glint in the starlight. 

“You're arrogantly sticking your nose where it doesn't belong with no care for consequence, is there something else to… understand?”

I feel like that was the longest sentence I've heard from him. Too bad it was so… upset?

Turning my palms up I leaned back in a submissive gesture. 

“Think about it, please?”

I bit my lip, trying to get the words right. 

“It doesn't make sense, you must see that right?”

He didn't move but his stern expression lost some of its assured-ness so I plunged ahead. 

“Why are you here? Elite Imperial Soldier, playing babysitter to the biggest brat on Coruscant, this can't have been the most convenient way to transfer troops and my Vah'hadarr isn't that high of a priority,”

“In case something goes wrong…”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

He looked askance at that and I corrected myself. 

“No… why would something happen? I'm no one and yet I've been whisked off with out warning under heavy guard,”

I pointed up to the recording device.

“Let's go back to my quarters and listen, together… they've had to have let something slip,”

“Conversations like these get people killed, princess,”

It was the second time he felt the need to warn me. He lowered his hand to look at the little device, thoughts etched across his brow as he tried to make up his mind. 

“Let's go to the dining area, It's probably clear by now,”

“Isn't that a little public?”

I was hesitant to go over the recordings somewhere so open. 

“Once it's empty it’ll be empty all night, Less implications if someone does stumble upon us,”

So that's what that's about. 

I wasn't comfortable with the idea but I didn't argue, following him out.  

Getting caught recording the Lieutenant apparently wasn't as bad as getting caught alone in my room and I rolled my eyes.

I don't even have a body guard usually…

Such protective actions weren't the norm for my father, and an official hands off has never been explicitly issued; the illusion of availability is a part of the role I play after all… Besides being tied up sitting in on his meetings, my father didn't care much what I did as long as I showed up for the expected social events. 

I played with the thought of inviting the troop of soldiers to the “Welcome Home” gala and grinned a little.

What talk that would be. 

We wandered into the galley, which was indeed empty, and sat at one end of the long table. 

I laid my data pad down and took out a jack, motioning for the device Crosshair still had on him. 

He slid it over and I plugged it in, pulling up the audio waves on a projection and sliding the measure to the first peak signaling voices had been picked up. I double checked the volume and pressed play. 

The cranky tone of the lieutenant was the first voice on the recording. 

“Good morning everyone,”

His tone was bored and tired, followed by a chorus of monotone acknowledgements and usual reports. Nothing of note. 

I fast forwarded. The waved dipped and rose again and I let it play. 

Idle chit chat. 

I was already growing impatient and started trying to figure out where and when in the time line would be best to prioritize. I didn't want to be stuck scouring every hour and conversation, and I dragged the measure to a pattern in the waves where even, lower peaks where periodically punctuated by spikes in volume. 

I was right, the bridge was taking a transmission. 

“I have to thank you Lieutenant, such a change in the escort can't have been easy to swing,”

It was my father's voice, and I adjusted the volume to listen. 

“No need Governor, it's a shame the girl may have put herself in harm's way, but this should go… unnoticed,”

“Ah yes well, she's a spirited one, I'm trusting you to keep her in line while she's aboard, away from those… things,”

I raised my brow at what he could mean by that, never having heard such contempt in his voice. 

“You have nothing to worry about, Nyem-tok, everyone here… knows their place,”

“I trust you made the extra arrangements we discussed,”

“Yes, extra precautions have been taken, but I assure you, we have everything under control here,”

“Yes well, I'll leave it to you, Lieutenant, Safe travels,”

I stopped the playback and thought for a moment. 

“What could you have gotten yourself into?”

I jumped, having forgotten I wasn't alone. 

I wracked my brain, going over the most recent meetings I had sat through. Nothing suspicious. Well, nothing that would concern anyone important.  

I scanned the audio scape again, jumping ahead to the next section of peaks.

Standard operations.

The next. 

Chatter.

I skipped through looking for any other patterns that might be significant. 

Near the end I somewhat gave up on anything else emerging, letting a dumb conversation play about the efficiency of different engine cores and put my forehead on the table, sighing in disappointment.

The recording played the sound of the door swishing open and the voices halted for a moment. The swish of the door shutting again. 

“I'll be happy to be free of the little whore,”

Chuckles and a return to the previous conversation, apparently that was me looking in earlier. 

My face flushed in anger and I looked up, a little embarrassed Crosshair had heard that, and then another wave of irritation. 

I don't get embarrassed.

My eyes met his over the projection of audio waves from my data pad. His brow was furrowed, mirroring my distemper and oddly enough it was comforting. 

“Well then, might as well set things and get yourselves some dinner, We'll be on the last leg tomorrow, you're dismissed,”

Murmurs. Shuffling. Silence again. 

I slid my finger to the next peak. 

A burst of lewd moans and slapping erupted from the recording and I scrambled to end the playback, fumbling the small bit of metal in panic. 

I forgot I picked it up after that! 

I had also never wiped the original data which was…

The sounds cut off with a gasp and a protest. 

“Give us the room,”

It was my father's voice again and I stopped my frantic attempts at turning it off, lifting my face to look at the clone sitting and listening with me. 

He seemed unaffected by the unintentional porny outpouring, but was focused on the recording now with a dangerous looking intensity. 

“Thank you for keeping this discreet, Nyem-tok, your cooperation is greatly appreciated, How are the preparations?”

The voice was vaguely familiar, then my father's voice again. 

“We have the location refitted and secured with the requested alternative entrances and a new stock of male and female imports for his excellence to choose from,”

“Wonderful, your services have always been top notch, I would be correct in assuming they all fit his usual… proclivities?”

“It's been harder to find the sensitive ones since the end of the war, but I'm sure his excellence will be pleased with the variety,”

“Superb, We'll schedule arrangements to make the necessary selectio-,”

The jagged lines of audio died into a flat line and was done. I started breathing again, only now registering that I had stopped. 

This conversation felt familiar, father talking to someone in hushed tones, abnormally taking a meeting at a room in The Crown.

“What does your father do, again?”

“He-... He controls most, if not all, the bordellos on Ga’hah, Coruscant now too…,”

He snatched the bug from the audio jack and tucked it into his belt. 

“Hey!”

“Where did you get this?”

“At the club, in the office by the rest of the contraband,”

“Did anyone see you take it?”

“No… I don't think so? Why would it matter?” 

They wouldn't have had too, I'm one of the only people with access.

“No one's ever blinked at someone using our services before! It's not exactly juicy black mail,”

We both sat silent a moment. 

I could protest but couldn't deny the conspiratorial sound of the conversation we had just heard. As far as I knew, we weren't working on any current projects… officially at least. I would have had to file for the permits.

“His excellence,”

Vah’hadarr what have you agreed to?

I've gone over plans with him for new clubs but we've never passed the term “stock” around. We build or remodel, then hire from one of the agencies my father helped establish. The only stocking we did was the bars but that wasn't exactly back room talk and most liquors didn't have a sex. 

My stomach was starting to sink as a fissure began to spread in my naive views of the world. I didn't like this. 

Crosshair turned to leave and I stood.

“Wait, you can't take that!”

“It's too dangerous for you to have, Pretend you never even heard it,”

I reached for him hooking his belt and attempting to turn him back. 

Without much warning he had me by the shoulders and pushed into the wall, mirroring our first night in the hallway.

“Forget. It. Now.”

His fingers were digging into me and funny enough, I already wasn't thinking about it anymore, completely focused on how close his face was, his hot breath caressing my cheek. I reached up to cup his jaw with my hands. 

“Why don't you make me forget then?”

It slipped out, I had lost focus…

And just when I decided to knock it off with him. 

His eyes searched my face for a moment, surprised at the real lust that glinted back at him. 

…

“You're going to get me killed,” 

His voice was strained, but he released me and escaped from the galley. 

Guess I'll go to bed alone… again.

~~~

Clang

Half awake… hands on my skin, heavy breathing… no.

I'm alone. 

There was a rustle behind me and I realized why I had woken from my heavy, muddled dreaming. 

Not alone…

I forced my breathing to slow, maintaining the illusion that I was asleep and listened. 

Rummaging. Something soft falling to the floor… my bag!

I flipped out of the bed and threw my shoulder in the direction I remembered leaving the practical travel pack on the floor. 

Oof

I connected, and the figure fell to the side from where they were balanced over my possessions. 

The voice sounded feminine and the slight figure was scrambling back to their feet faster than I was. I was stuck on my own nightgown, and struggled to unpin myself when a sudden blaze of pain snapped across my jaw as the intruder's boot connected with my face. 

Kriffing… stars..

Sparkles bloomed in my eyes, filling the dark room and another clang rang out as they fled. 

You better run.

I was trying to sooth the intense ache settling in my jaw as I threw the scattered articles back into my pack and slung it over my shoulder, following them out into the hall.

Shyte, where the Kark did the nerf go?

I ran left towards the crew cabins, hitting the panel buttons on the doors I passed searching for someone awake along the way.

“Lieutenant!”

I started beating on doors and picked up speed, the sleepy daze that clung to me with abnormal persistence finally leaving my brain completely, letting the severity of the situation sink in. 

“Lieutenant Hervos!”

I was shouting now, desperate to wake the sleeping ship. 

I thought about the navigation crew, there were a few smaller people on staff that might match the profile I saw in the dark but it was hard to imagine any of them looking through my negligee. 

The other possibility, that an outsider managed to find us out here, sent a chill through me. We were still in the halfway system, yet to jump. Easy enough to board. 

I had reached the barrack and started hammering on the door frame when a hand grabbed my wrist, spinning me around. 

“What happened?” 

It was Crosshair, his helmet tucked under his other arm and guns hooked over his back. He must've been awake and heard me coming. 

“Someone was going through my things,”

I jostled the bag dangling from my shoulder to emphasize, but my voice was soft and breathy. The panic I hadn't acknowledged was finally settled in and was making me gasp for air. 

The color draining from his face under the professional expression didn't help. 

Good to know the implication isn't lost on you either. 

He reached past me to the panel by the barrack door and quickly tapped out a code.

A siren started to sound, accompanied with an ominous red light, and the confused shuffling in the barracks that started from my clamoring became purposeful and urgent. 

It wasn't long before Halo appeared at my elbow, tired but alert and looking for direction from his Commander. 

“Intruder in our guest’s quarters. Organize your squad and search the ship. Move.”

Without even a pause, I was being steered away down the hall. We were now set upon by a harried looking Hervos quickly approaching us as we made our way back to the loading platform of the ship. 

“Commander, explain yourself.”

“We've been compromised. I'm initiating nesting protocol,”

Nesting protocol? 

“I don't think that's necess-”

Hervos was cut off by a loud bang and rumble from the port side of the ship. 

I didn't see his reaction, having been swept up and carried swiftly past the few rushing, panicked people in the halls. 

We turned into what looked like the Lieutenant's quarters, where I was set down among the personal artifacts. The room was nicer than mine. 

“We're leaving.”

I didn't argue though a dozen questions flooded me. Mainly, how?

“Shouldn't we be at the shuttles then?”

He didn't answer, instead ripping open a panel near the cabins storage cabinets and tapping another hurried code that sank the whole section of wall into the floor, revealing a small pod. 

It didn't look like it had any sort of navigation nor like it was meant for two people. 

Crosshair was already in and pulling me to him, holding me tight as he hit another button, and we were off. 

The whole thing had taken seconds and I still wasn't sure what was happening. The ship shuddered and rumbled again as the pod snapped shut and we were jettisoned from the ship. 

As we left the shell of the transport the empty quiet of space enveloped the tiny shuttle leaving us in eerie silence punctuated by the beeps and clicks of mechanical systems working to keep us alive. 

“Where is it taking us?”

I whispered, but it still sounded too loud. My heart beat was too loud. His breathing, too loud. Too close. 

An internal shield had wrapped around us, crushing us together and away from the walls. 

“It'll target the nearest body with a breathable atmosphere.”

The shields weren't enough to completely mask the inertia of hurtling through the void and I turned all my concentration to not focusing on the forces being exerted on my form.

Seconds. Minutes? And then the silence was broken by a dull roar. 

We were starting to break atmosphere, who knows where. The ship was passing a cluster of moons on its way to the next jump point, it could be heading to any of them. 

The dull roar became a full rush, broken by booms reverberating as the pod made shock waves on its descent. 

A wave of blue began to pulsate through the systems surrounding us as layer and layer of shields began to wrap around the rapidly falling pod. 

I felt sick from the turbulence as each shield slowed our descent, pushing back against gravity, bringing us down in nauseating bounces. There was a whoosh, sounding like something inflating around us.

In a final crash there was a loud ripping sound and our true speed made itself known, sliding for quite some time. The foreign landscape made a rough, grinding cacophony against the hull of our safety.

When the screeching, rolling chaos stopped I was laying disheveled on Crosshair's armored chest plate. The pod tinked and clicked as the metal cooled. He yanked a lever down, popping the door open and helping me out on shaking legs. 

I turned to the sky and, in horror, took in the sight above me. 

A radial burst of fiery explosion hung in the distance, no doubt our ship. 

“Did they make it?” 

The question was nonsense. He knew as much as I did. 

“Probably not…”

There was no emotion in it. 

I thought of Kerna, afraid of flying…and Halo, hope he wasn't living up to his namesake. I hadn't even learned the other’s… hadn't asked. 

Guilt sunk in at that until I was snapped back to the present situation with a rough tug and a raspy,

“We need to move,”

But I was transfixed.

“How did this…”

I was picked up again, pulled away from the sky stained with fire.

“I warned you, princess…”

I could hear the remorse in it now…

“Conversations Kill.”

[dany-is-my-queen]

A Question of Loyalty VI

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

A weary sigh escaped your lungs as the sun set, the remnants of the reddish orange sun fading sublimely.

If Daemon hadn't killed your uncle, you have known what he was talking about. But he took it to his grave, he was in a rage that surely would have been that and not something serious.

You prayed for his soul in the Godswood for he was a member of your family despite his eagerness to bury your father.

“My lady.” A familiar voice came from behind, it was hoarse. “I wanted to thank you for your support back in the Throne Room. I knew you would root for my cause.”

“I didn’t do it for you, Rhaenyra. I did it for Lucerys.” You coldly replied.

“Right, yeah. I still very much appreciate your vote of confidence towards us.” You gave her a once-over.

Rhaenyra had a look of burden all over her, years ago you would ask her what was wrong, then help her to ease her turmoil but now, you just let the silence settle in.

“I want to name her like you.” She spoke, massaging her belly.

“I do not know if I’m worthy of such honor.”

“You are, Y/N.”

“Are you certain she’ll be a girl?”

“I’m counting on it.” You smiled faintly, it didn’t reach your eyes. You tried damn hard to disguise your hurt, the princess read your unreadable thoughts and aimed to grab your hands, out of instinct you recoiled before she could, she jerked back.

“My father is dying. But I noticed that his model city was immaculate. I don't think Alicent cared so much about cleaning it, or sending someone to do it. I thank your for it.”

“It is a sad thing, that the King is in such condition. But Queen Alicent has been seeing to the Realm’s interests. She’s doing her duty to the Kingdoms by ruling them wisely.” Rhaenyra sneered.

“Has she now? She meant to set aside Luke, your brother’s son… how is that doing a good job?”

“My brother’s son…” You mimicked, her gaze piercing as a dagger. “Laenor is dead. Cuckolded, you married your uncle, Rhaenyra. Why?”

“Y/N…—“ Tremendous amount of guilt invaded Rhaenyra, oh how she wished she could come clean about the truth of him.

“He was a far better man than Daemon will ever be. Even Harwin was. How could you?”

“Would you have wedded me?”

“What?”

“You’ve heard me. Would you’ve let me take you as my wife after Laenor’s demise?”

“That’s nonsense…”

“To me it never was, Y/N. With your brother gone, I had to strengthen my line. I had to—“

“You needn’t have to if you hadn’t mothered bastards!” She had no right to be offended, and you didn’t mean ill will towards the lads, she winced angrily for a second before she went softer. You still cared for her, she knew.

“We never tried, Y/N. We could never. I needed heirs, you can’t hold that against me forever.”

“Your line is stronger than ever. You are to be the Queen. I do hope Daemon suffices. I hope he’s gentle to you and treats you right.” You stepped to leave the Godswood, the starry night already hanging on your heads. Rhaenyra’s eyes were narrowed as you walked past her, she nigh stopped you, but she chose not to.

-

In the morrow, Helaena randomly chatted about “trivial” stuff while the twins were playing on the other side of the room. You were trying to gain the Her Grace’s attention, hopefully she would walk in and you’d take the chance.

“The old High Septon told my father that king’s laws are one thing and the laws of the gods another, the boy said stubbornly. Children are made in a marriage bed and blessed by the Father and the Mother, but others are born of lust and weakness, he said. The grey-haired man claimed that some are born of love and devotion. Blessed with wisdom and kindness, a rare type. But a type nonetheless.” A queer, uncomfortable perplexity began to invade you as Helaena finished speaking.

“Helaena, do you mind elaborating? Where did you hear this? Or rather, read it. Is it about your sister’s children?” You started interrogating her with dread. She squinted at you with a calm countenance, as calm as midnight waves. “Sweet Helaena…” Clearly with no intention of further elaboration. You wouldn’t want to overstep her boundaries or make her uneasy, as you knew she would get.

You were nonplussed. It was rude of you to decline the invitation made by the King himself, but you couldn't bear to be at the same table with the two women, you couldn't bear the deadly looks, the comments. You couldn't deal with it now that this was unveiled to you.

Your mother Rhaenys was secluded in her chambers to wash the image of Vaemond's head split in two. You couldn't face her, not yet.

You had a hundred questions swirling around, you were bewildered, stupefied. It made sense now, it was clear. Your uncle was about to say that you were born of your father's affair with another woman, Helaena spoke in riddles on the same subject. You've been lied to all your life, you were not a legitimate child... It was too much.

You poured glass after glass, until you emptied the flagon thrice in a row, your head spinning and your movements unfocused. The young princess meant well, she thought you deserved to know the truth. She loved you, why would she made this up?

You were a bastard. You were a fucking bastard. Your father’s been keeping this from you since forever, did your mother.., no, did Rhaenys pretended to love you? No, she did love you. It did make sense now why you didn’t have a resemblance to her, or to any Targaryen, but… you didn’t look like Corlys either.

Who the hell was your real mother? Was she a whore, a noble lady? Did she care? Was she still alive? How did you bond with Silverwing if you were just a simple bastard? Endless questions plagued your mind as you kept on drinking them away, your vision blurred, your heart staggered.

You slurred your way around the Keep, not with a precise destination, barely able to stand on your feet. A pair of vigorous arms caught you.

“Y/N? What happened, why are you like this?” The Princess worriedly examined you. “How much did you drink?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, maybe it was the booze in your system, or your inability to maintain eye contact with the culprit of your many heartaches.

“You skipped dinner with us, so you could get ridiculously hammered?” She nigh yelled at you, seldom did she act like the big woman, but given your state she could not talk softly to you.

“Leaving…— leaving without saying goodbye?” You managed to say.

“We are used to that.” Rhaenyra said back, your legs wobbly, her grip still stable in your waist, she pulled you closer to her.

“Ao gaomagon naejot fuck around rūsīr Harwin no isse these halls, sir rūsīr Daemon. Jāhor ziry mirre mōris?” (You used to fuck around in these halls with Harwin, and now with Daemon. Will it ever end?) You clumsy garbled in Valyrian. Rhaenyra bitterly sniggered.

“Hae lo ao weren't fucking se dāria pār, sepār raqagon ao issi sir.” (As if you weren't fucking the Queen then, just like you are now) She spat. You were wasted, and to be honest had no more vitality to keep on crossing swords with her.

“Let go of me, Rhaenyra.”

She hesitated, fearing that you would fall to the ground as soon as she loosened her grip, but you did not, you steadied your step and walked away from her as quickly as possible. The princess was puzzled, she should have accompanied you to your quarters, she should have, instead she turned to her children and her husband, determined to leave the city at once.

You ended up in front of a familiar wooden door, you thumped dramatically wishing the Queen could spare you some of her time. She did, she was still in her green gown, her locks were messy. She flinched at the sight of you.

“You stink of wine.” She uttered.

You’ve been here before, you remember being here under the same circumstances, and yet you couldn’t stop.

You pushed Alicent back to her bed, in your drunkenness you managed to be careful not to act so rudely.

She gasped, and did no more than contemplate the face of the woman she’s always been in love with. She’s always desired you, yearning to be yours again… she bit her lip rougher to halt herself to devour your inviting, redden lips.

You tucked yourself into the side of her neck, your breathing overflowing with craving. You were still intoxicated, but it was wearing off in a quick pace.

The noise you moaned next came from the depths of you. “Rhaenyra”

Alicent stiffened and fought with all her might to stop her hand from slapping you. Aware of the terrible blunder you had made, you buried even deeper into her, pressing tightly your body to hers.

“Go to her. I wager she’s still here.” She tried to shove you away, she could already feel the tears materializing.

Seeing the hurt written in her sobered you up in a blink of an eye. You finally spoke up, chests colliding.

"I wish I had long silver hair, striking blue eyes. I wish I had a free spirit, breaking all the damn rules no matter what the consequences. I wish I had a freaking dragon" Alicent shouted.

"I adore your chestnut locks, your deep brown eyes. I love how exquisitely you carry yourself when it comes to rules. And Silverwing took to you so well, why would you need a dragon?"

“So you would love me as much.”

“Ali…— Alicent.” She quivered under you at the way you pronounced her name. “I’m tired of this sickening game. I want us. I want you. It’s always been you. To me you're perfect just the way you are.” You weren't going to force her on you, so you stood up and rubbed your temples. "I am definitely not worthy of you now, Your Grace, but I will work on myself to give you a version that is, I vow to you." Alicent interlaced your fingers, preventing you from leaving the room.

“I’d ask you to stay the night, but I must look after the King.”

“I know, duty comes first.” She hummed.

“And I wouldn’t want my sheets to reek of you, bathe yourself. Have some rest. We can talk in the morrow.” A profound hopefulness made its way to you. You tittered, Alicent gave you a quick peck on the corner of the mouth, as you watched her fade into the castle halls.

Will love ever be the end of duty?

Tagging: @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @sunshove @tired-ninfa @rxscpctals @glorioushamsterqueen @lesbicentism @newcaptainofsquad9

[thatartiststudios]

It feels like ages since I've posted any of my writing but I finally finished a Valentine's Day themed Rayllum oneshots, a day late, but here it is! Enjoy!

Rayla’s nerves fluttered in her chest, a familiar sensation with a newfound apprehension. Tonight’s celebration held a weightier significance, surrounded by nobles and esteemed guests, each sure to be eyeing her with varying degrees of curiosity and judgment. Among them would undoubtedly be suitors who believed they were more deserving of her hand than she, a commoner, betrothed to the prince.

But Callum’s comforting words from the previous evening echoed in her mind, a soothing balm to her anxious thoughts. His kisses had chased away her worries, assuring her that she needn’t conform to the expectations of others. She could attend the celebration as herself, without the facade of extravagant dresses or elaborate finery.

Dresses and fancy clothes had never been Rayla’s thing, and Callum respected that. While he ensured she always had attire befitting her role, he never pushed her to conform to the lavish standards of the court. To him, she was radiant in her simplicity, her inner beauty shining brighter than any gemstone or silk garment.

—

In their room within the castle’s walls, Rayla stood behind Callum, fastening the vibrant red and gold mantle to the shoulders of his jacket. With a gentle touch, she pressed a kiss to the back of his neck once she was finished, coaxing a soft smile from him as he turned to face her.

“How do I look?” Callum inquired, his eyes alight with anticipation as he awaited her verdict.

Rayla returned his smile, her fingers trailing through his hair affectionately. “Handsome, as always,” she complimented, leaning in to press a playful kiss to his cheek. “And to think I have you all to myself.”

Callum chuckled, “I don’t know, Ezran might want to share,” he teased in return.

Rayla responded by kissing him gently, “Do I have to?” she whispered against his lips.

His smile widened, unable to resist her charms. “I mean, I could be persuaded,” he admitted, returning her kiss with equal fervor. They lingered in the moment, lost in the warmth of each other’s embrace, until Callum reluctantly pulled back.

“Although, he will be wondering where we are,” Callum remarked with a grin, breaking the spell of their intimacy. “Guess we’ll have to save these kisses for the party, huh? Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Rayla rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, though her fondness for him was evident in her expression. “You are shameless,” she scolded him playfully, though her lips curved into a smile.

Callum seized the opportunity for one final kiss before leading her out of the room and down the hall, their fingers intertwined as they ventured towards the festivities awaiting them.

As they strolled down the castle’s hallway, Rayla’s free hand instinctively fidgeted with a loose strand of her hair. With each step, her nerves heightened, the upcoming celebration looming larger in her mind. She mentally listed the familiar faces she expected to encounter—friends, allies, and those who had become a part of their shared journey.

Ezran and Ellis, Soren and Corvus would be there with their girlfriends, Enya and Ella, Opeli and the council members; Barius overseeing the culinary arrangements—all familiar and comforting.

However, the prospect of encountering dozens and dozens of other attendees, some likely harboring negative sentiments, dampened her anticipation. Unpleasant individuals who questioned whether she truly deserved the love of the crown Prince of Katolis, and to add to that, the first human Primal mage.

A gentle squeeze of her hand accompanied by a tender kiss to her temple pulled her back from the edge of her thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?” Callum’s concerned voice broke through her internal turmoil.

Rayla looked up at him, a smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she reassured, grounding herself in his reassuring presence.

As they reached one of the entrances to the lavishly decorated ballroom, adorned in Katolian red and gold with vibrant red and white roses, Callum released her hand and extended his arm like a true gentleman.

“Shall we?” he asked, a soft smile directed at her. Rayla reciprocated his smile, taking his offered arm.

“We shall,” she replied, offering a quick kiss on his cheek before they stepped into the grandeur of the celebration.

As they mingled in the opulent ballroom, the anticipation of dancing later allowed them to gracefully greet their friends. Rayla took advantage of this time to acclimate herself to the expansive room and its multitude of guests. Despite having to navigate through the occasional stuffy nobles, the experience remained enjoyable.

An air of protectiveness emanated from Callum as he cast discerning glares at those who dared to cast judgment. If looks could kill, the unfortunate nobles would have been vanquished in an instant under the weight of Callum’s disapproval.

Sensing his tension, Rayla rubbed her free hand up his arm and to his shoulder. “It’s okay, love,” she whispered reassuringly.

He turned to her, his gaze softening at her touch. “They don’t get to talk about you like that, like you’re not special,” he declared, gently tucking away a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No one does, okay?”

Rayla nodded, her heart warmed by his protective gesture.

He smiled again, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. “Good,” he affirmed, the assurance resonating in his words.

As the moment for couples to dance arrived, Enya and Ella enthusiastically led their boyfriends to the dance floor, Soren and Corvus still donned in their Crownguard uniforms. Ezran approached Ellis, asking for a dance, and she happily accepted. Even some of the guards, still clad in armor, guided their girlfriends and wives to join the dance. The nobles, too, seized the opportunity to take their partners to the floor.

Callum turned to Rayla, wearing a handsome smirk, and extended his hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked with a touch of formality.

She smiled, offering her hand in response. “You may,” she replied. Callum brought her knuckles to his lips, bestowing a gentle kiss before leading her to an empty spot amidst the other couples.

With one hand on her waist and the other holding hers, they swayed to the music along with the other dancing pairs. The ballroom became a symphony of graceful movements, except for a few onlookers who chose to remain on the sidelines.

As they gracefully drifted around the room, Callum and Rayla found themselves at the edge of the crowd, near a group of elegantly dressed women, likely of noble backgrounds from various kingdoms. Unbeknownst to them, their hushed conversation about Rayla’s past unfolded within earshot.

“Didn’t she leave him for two years?” asked one woman.

“Yeah, and now they’re engaged, can you believe it?” scoffed another.

“It’s ridiculous. If she’s left him once, she’ll do it again. He should just pick someone else, someone more worthwhile,” murmured a girl in a long blue dress.

“If he was going to marry an elf, he could’ve been more diplomatic about it, maybe a noble, not some commoner,” sneered another discreetly.

Callum, aware of the conversation and the impact it had on Rayla, glared at the group. Once they noticed his disapproval, they averted their gaze. Callum redirected their path back into the heart of the crowd, guiding Rayla away from the group of judgmental nobles. Despite his attempts to comfort her, she still refrained from meeting his eyes.

“Hey,” he noticed a single tear on Rayla’s cheek, wiping it away gently. “Look at me,” he urged, tilting her chin upward to ensure their gazes met. “Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re wrong to say any of that,” he murmured with soothing reassurance.

Rayla nodded, her voice barely audible.

He tenderly kissed her forehead, reiterating, “I mean it, you’re mine, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

A subtle smile graced her lips as she softly affirmed, “Just yours.”

As they continued to sway to the gentle rhythm of the music, Callum’s content smile deepened.

Rayla couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes and asked, “What’s that look for?”

“I just love you,” he confessed, the warmth in his smile spreading. She mirrored his expression, tilting her head in the opposite direction.

His infectious smile played on her lips as she said, “I love you, too.”

Callum began to lean in for a kiss, but Rayla seized the moment, kissing him first. They lingered in the embrace, parting briefly before Callum reciprocated. Each pause was a sweet interlude, their smiles growing with each exchange. Whether they were the center of attention or unnoticed in the crowd, it didn't matter—they only had eyes for each other.

Ezran and Ellis, along with their friends, took a break from dancing and joined Opeli and Barius at the food table. Ezran couldn’t help but smile at his brother and his soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Soren voiced a sentiment, “You know, I don’t normally like all their mushiness, but after everything? They deserve it.”

Enya playfully teased Soren, leaning her head on his shoulder, “Aw, am I making you go soft?”

“Go soft?” Corvus chuckled, “He’s been soft.”

As the banter continued, Ezran’s gaze remained fixed on Callum and Rayla, in the middle of the crowd, sometimes kissing, sometimes whispering sweet words to each other, or sometimes saying nothing at all, simply enjoying each other’s company in silence. It warmed Ezran’s heart to witness their happiness, realizing that two years of separation now seemed like nothing compared to the years they had spent together.

Looking at them, he saw not only their joy but also his own happiness reflected in theirs—a happiness that would extend into the many more years after they got married.

—

After the dance, Callum and Rayla slipped away from the lively celebration. Ezran watched them go, allowing them their precious time alone. The couple found their way to one of the moonlit balconies, basking in the tranquility of each other’s company. They stood by the railing, hands entwined, savoring the quietude.

Breaking the silence, Callum asked, “You had a good time?”

Rayla turned to him, a smile playing on her lips, “I did.”

Still concerned, Callum pressed, “You shouldn’t pay those nobles any mind, it’s not worth it.”

Rayla reassured him, “It’s fine, love.”

Callum, persistent, argued softly, “It’s not fine for anyone to say those things. You don’t need to act like it is.”

However, to Callum’s surprise and slight confusion, Rayla offered a tiny smile. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, “I know it’s fine, because there was never anyone else for either of us and never will be. I don’t belong with anyone else.” Before Callum could respond, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a lingering kiss, her fingers tugging on the collar of his jacket.

They parted for a moment, and Callum mirrored her smile, “That’s not what I was expecting,” repeating his words from the first time she ever kissed him.

“I’ll never be boring,” she teased.

His smile widened, “No, just mine.”

He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her in again. One of her hands rested on his chest, while the other ventured into his hair, running her fingers through it, deepening the kiss.

Lost in the moment, they remained locked in the embrace, the soft glow of the moon added a magical touch to the scene. For a brief moment, it felt like time stood still, and there was nothing in the world except them, wrapped up in their love for each other. Eventually, they pulled back, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

Rayla chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with affection. “I could get used to this,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Callum smiled, his gaze filled with adoration. “Me too,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Rayla.”

“I love you too, Callum,” she whispered, her heart overflowing with happiness.

In each other’s arms, they stood on the balcony, savoring the moment and the love they shared, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other.