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alreadyblondenow · 4 years

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Never get to hold you | Lee Haechan

Lee Haechan x female!reader x Lee Jeno

▸ Fluff, smut, angst? Haechan is poor ▸ Part of To All the Members I’ve Loved Before: Dear 127, hosted by me

Summary: Growing up in a fucked up household, Haechan has always been thankful for his friend Jeno for treating him like his real brother. From giving him food, to letting him stay in their big house, to lending him money for school. Jeno has always been an angel. Until one day, Haechan found another angel, you. Finally his life is now brighter than ever… but not for long, because Jeno likes you too. Will Haechan let this once in a lifetime love slip and give you to his true friend who’s always been nice to him? Or will he be selfish?

Work count: 6k flat amazing

Warnings: Smut, toxic household, mentions of parents fighting, Haechan is poor here, if you are not okay with the idea please click away. Unprotected sex, couch sex, mentions of rough sex, overstimulating, Haechan smoked one cigarette, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of Haechan’s sister, break up, slight cheating? but not really A/N: Pure fiction. Haechan’s character here is inspired by Justin Fooley from 13 reasons why. And the friendship is inspired by Bryce and Justin’s friendship. hehe. Originally this is a cheating au, but I’ve been writing a lot of cheating au so.... lets do the right thing for now. HAHA. also I did not include a lot of smut just because it doesn’t fit the story so i hope you understand that and still enjoy reading this. <3

A peaceful night that’s what Haechan longs for. A night free from the screaming and shouting of his parents, the glass shattering and never-ending blaming. He turns the volume up of the song he’s listening to from his mp3 player, closed his eyes, and tried sleeping. It’s not calming or whatsoever but it’s better than hearing the bickering.

For Haechan, sleep does not fix anything but it sure does make him feel better once he wakes up and finally faces another fun day in school. Yes. That’s right, Haechan loves going to school for it makes him feel like he’s a normal person. Not everyone in school knew how fucked up his life is and that’s another thing why he loves going to school. School and his friends have been his escape.

“You’re coming tonight right?” Jeno sneaks from behind and swings an arm on his best friend.

“Of course I’ll be there. I have to drive your drunk ass home-“ Haechan jokes but he was soon interrupted by something so unfortunate.

His shoes gave up on him.

“I think I should go and get this fixed before class starts. Not again,” Haechan said, stopping to remove his worn-out shoes and check them further while Jeno watch him.

“I have my Balenciaga shoes in my locker I don’t use that anymore. If you don’t want to keep it or accept it, at least use it for the day,” Jeno smiles at his friend and pats his back. But before Haechan could even say no to his best friend, Jeno is long gone for the school bell rang already.

Every since Haechan is new in town, Jeno has been a good friend to him. Both very different boys but they are brothers by heart and got each other’s back. For Haechan, Jeno is an angel to which he almost feels bad for not giving something in return for all the things Jeno gave him. Not just material things but Jeno offers financial help to Haechan too, in fact, Jeno is the reason why Haechan’s mother got a job at a store Mrs. Lee owns.

So you see, being a loyal and true friend is the only thing Haechan can give in return for now.

After school, Haechan fixed his wretched shoes before going to his part-time job. There, while he looks over the convenience store, he does his homework on the side and makes sure that he studies in advance so he can get closer to the college and scholarship that he’s aiming for and finally get out of this hell hole.

“You like studying so much?”

A voice made him drop his pen and went to work immediately. Punching the cashier and putting the stuff you bought in a plastic bag with a shy smile. A shy smile that miraculously lights up your day, he’s like a sun you thought.

“College. You’re new here right? I saw you earlier with the student body president. I’ve been there, being new in town will get easier... with the right people” Haechan says.

“Well, I had a bad first day, but thank you.... Hyuck. It’s great to know that eventually, everything will get better ” you read his name tag and smiled so sweetly at him. Oh, you wish it’s not obvious that you’re flirting.

When you left you’re all he could think of. He can’t stop thinking about your smile, how it’s obvious that you’re flirting with him but he thinks you’re so cute rather than flirty, he even beats himself up for not asking your name and making you stay longer.

As he walks his way home under a quiet night and with nothing in his head but your smile, he replays his only memory of you in his head while smiling alone and looking like a complete idiot. But when he was just a few walks from his house, he hears the screaming and shouting again.

He ran towards the door and straight to his sister’s room, not giving a fuck about why his parents are fighting. He hugs his little sister who’s in tears and basically shaking from fear, keeping her close to him to let her know that he is here now. And this is the sadness and reality he had to face every day.

“You scared?” He whispers but his face shows no fear to show his sister that his big brother is ready to protect her.

“Where were you?” She whines and snuggles to her brother more.

“I was at work, sorry. You know something wonderful happened to me today,” Haechan ready himself to tell his sister how you two met for the first time. She has always loved Hyuck’s stories and she’s always interested in the people his brother is friends with, especially Jeno.

“Well, why didn’t you ask her name? Will you see her again?” She asks eagerly. “I want more stories about her, she sounds sweet even though your conversation was too short”

“Yeah I know. Maybe I can talk to her by Monday and tell her, ‘hey my little sister wants us to be friends’” he jokes.

And so the night went on, exchanging stories with his sister until his parents stopped fighting and eventually his sister fell asleep in his arms. To be honest, he didn’t want to leave his sister alone after what happened tonight, but he promised Jeno that he will be there so he needs to be there.

Going to Jeno’s birthday celebration in a bar downtown is the last thing he wants to do after having a hard night. The bar was loud, packed, and it’s giving him a headache. So he promised himself that he will stay here for half an hour only, which did not happen because his heart feels heavy.

So he went out to have a cigarette and to clear his mind, having a debate with his conscience whether he’s going back in or not.

“The answer is no,” you said from behind which made him turn immediately and face you. “I’m watching you for a few minutes already and your feet is obviously hesitating to go back inside”

“It’s that obvious? Am I really that easy to read?” he takes one final hit from his cigarette before he throws it away. You nod with a smile to answer his question. It’s obvious that you’re happy to see each other again. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s cold out here,” he would give you his jacket if only he’s wearing one right now but he’s not.

“Everyone is loud inside and I feel like I’ve had enough of the screaming and overflowing booze, you know?” You answered awkwardly. Little did you know that Haechan feels the exact same thing. “But I should probably go and not ruin the silence here too so-“

“I can’t stop thinking about you” Haechan finally blurted out. He didn’t mean to but those are the words that came out from his mouth the moment he saw you turn and was about to walk away. “I don’t even know your name but my sister thinks your cool” he added, trying to sound fun and interesting. Heck, he’s trying to make you stay.

And it's working.

“You have a sister and you told her about me?” Haechan nods with a shy smile, “Well what did you tell her?” You asked with a flirty tone.

“I told her that I’ve never seen a smile so beautiful and that I feel stupid for not asking your name” he shamelessly flirts and came closer to you, making your heart beat faster and making you really nervous.

“Take me some somewhere quiet and I’ll tell you my name” you flirted back.

And without any second thoughts, he brought you to a place where you two can laugh out loud freely, and there's no loud music to bother the moment. You introduced yourself and all he did was giggle and tell you that his little sister will be happy about this. Haechan made you laugh nonstop, telling you the happy memories he holds dear and even small parts about his life, without fooling you and making you think that he’s someone else.

Now that he gets the chance to talk to you again, he wanted to embrace you while he pours all his honesty to you and hopes that you don’t mind liking someone fucked up like him. But Haechan thought that telling you that he’s poor as a rat on your first night together is not something worth staying for, so he shrugged it off and continue asking more about you.

Until you both lost track of time and he offered to walk you home, which you think it’s sweet.

“Do you want to have some water first, before you go? It’s a long way back. M-my parents are not home so no need to be shy,” you offered with a hint of other intentions that he surely understood. And thankfully he accepted.

The moment you closed the door, he stopped you from opening the lights, his hands are on your face and your lips touched immediately. Returning the kiss without hesitation, heads turning continuously and both tongues are wanting for something more.

You motion him to the couch and push him until he falls on the cushions and let out a quiet giggle. It was a pity that you wouldn’t see his bright smile. “You okay with this?” he slips his hand inside your shirt and smoothly removed it.

“More than okay,” you said and started to undo his belt and remove his pants. Soon, you’re both wearing only your underwear while grinding on top of each other. Shy to make a move but your kisses and moans say otherwise. You’re the one who initiates it this time, unclasping your bra and making him knead and cup your boobs shamelessly.

“Do I need a condom?” he asks, removing his boxers brief, throwing it on the floor, and immediately slipped his hand inside your panties while you’re on top of him kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.

You moaned softly when his fingers made contact with your very wet slit and told him, “No. But pull out?” he nods and told you he will. And because of that assurance, you finally removed your panties and went on top of him.

“It’s hard to pull out if you’re going to be on top, maybe next time?” He says and effortlessly switched your positions, putting him on top of you. He pulls away for a second and pumped his cock in between your opened legs, came in closer to kiss you before he pushes his in.

His kisses were gentle and sweet like he’s not about you fuck you in the next few seconds. But when he finally lined his cock and slowly thrust in, both of you moaned and forgot that you were kissing for a second. Sharp gasps escaped your mouth while delicious groans escaped from his. Slowly he takes his time pushing in and out without thrusting all the way, which surely builds the momentum and it definitely made you want more of him.

“I’ll go deeper” thankfully he noticed and pushed in finally. Thrusting a little bit quicker than earlier while his fingers are busy drawing circles on your clit.

Soon, you’re both on edge. Too shy to admit it but you can’t stop clenching and unclenching around him, “Stop doing that,” he says and kissed your neck, bitting the shell of your ear to hear you giggle while he makes you moan deliciously.

He came first as expected because you can’t stop moaning behind his ears and making him feel good with your tight walls. He shoots his cum on your stomach, away from your pussy while his other hand is continuously drawing fast circles and making you cum in no time.

You shivered like crazy and tried closing your legs but Haechan got a hold of it and overstimulated you.

“Wild-brutal, that’s you” you said while you continue to shiver, curl yourself in a ball and beg him to stop.

He kisses your body, avoiding his cum but still managed to suck your nipples good as you come down from your high. When you’re finally calm, you reached for the tissue on the coffee table to wipe yourself clean but he snatched the tissue from your hand and did it himself. After that, you moved your body and make room on the small couch so he can lie beside you, using his arms as your pillow, keeping you close to his sweaty body.

“You’re the second girl I kept in my arms tonight,” he says softly. Looking into your eyes directly. You know that it's his sister and it made you smile and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Can you keep it that way then?” you said, softly like how he spoke. He nods and tightens his hug.

“To be honest I feel like I’m a slut right now because I slept with you first... on my first day of school, my first day of meeting you-“

“Sssh. You think too much. You’re not a slut. I like you, you like me. It’s a normal reaction” he kisses your lips and your cheeks one too many times to make you giggle and eventually let go of your thoughts. “I have to go back to my friends” he added.

“What- No, stay, please. My parents wouldn’t mind” you begged but he shook his head and got up from his comfort.

“I’ll find you again”

“Well give me your phone” you said, eager to make him stay. Eager to stay in his life.

“I don’t have one because I can’t afford one” Haechan was shy to tell you the truth but he didn’t want to lie to you. But of course, you understand him instead of prying. You sat up, kissed him sweetly and told him,

“It’s fine. You know where I live, so we're going to do this old school then” you giggle and make the most of the few minutes you have with him. He reached for your panties and helped you wear them together with your shirt, leaving a soft kiss on your lower abdomen.

“Is that fine? Going old school?” He asks smiling and asking for another kiss.

“More than fine, that means I get to see you always” he giggled and told you that’s right and continued wearing the rest of his clothes.

The next day, Haechan woke up with a smile on his face by just merely thinking about you and thinking of going to your house tonight and surprise you after he hangs out with Jeno at the amusement park.

As his day went on with his best friend, all he thinks about is you. Did you eat already, how was your sleep, do you think of him, and what are you doing now? These are questions that he wanted to ask you because he misses you already, but also, these are the questions that attracted the universe into putting you both in the same place.

Just a few minutes ago, Haechan is thinking about you but now you’re right in front of him... with a blindfold at The Kissing Booth and about to kiss Jeno.... Jeno of all people.

There, Haechan stood and watch you and Jeno kiss in front of the audience. Watching your friends take a video and giggle as much as they want because you have no idea who you’re kissing right now. Oh they would kill to be in your position and taste Jeno’s lips. While you... you think about the gentleman who made you laugh over and over again last night, the gentleman who’s honest about everything, and the gentleman who made you feel good on your family couch last night.

And when you removed your blindfold, you can’t help but feel disappointed. It’s not Haechan you’re kissing, he hasn’t found you again.

When Jeno came closer and attempted to kiss you again, you pushed him away in front of many people, smiled and whispered, “We had our fun already, I think that’s enough. Sorry, I was hoping you’d be someone else” and came down from the stage to join your friends.

The disappointment in Jeno’s face was evident. He felt like he violated you or something and wanted to apologize further but you didn’t give him a chance. He saw Haechan standing in the corner with a soda in his hand and joined him, “That was something. I feel like I was taken to another dimension while I was kissing her. Damn I like her already” Jeno admits, having no clue that Haechan knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Hey.... Haechan” you taped his shoulder which made him and Jeno turn around. You didn’t want to be bold and flirty with him in front of his friend so you just said hey.

Jeno was shocked to the core when you approached his friend and not him, and he was even more shocked to see you smile so sweetly at Haechan. “You know each other?” he asks you both nervously.

“Yes”

“No”

“N-no. Not really. Dude, everyone knows her. New girl in town plus she came by the store during my shift yesterday after school” Haechan explains. Completely denying that you two shared something special the other night.

Good thing Jeno believed and accepted Haechan’s explanation, so this time he didn’t waste any more time and shoot his shot. “I want to apologize to you. Can we go for a walk? Alone together-“

“Good idea man. I think I should go. I have a shift at the store, s-see you at school. B-both of you,” he says and awkwardly walks out and left you with Jeno.

You wanted to follow him, you would rather want to watch him work at the store than be with Jeno and waste your time strolling around the park, you’ve been wanting to be with him ever since you opened your eyes this morning and now you can’t believe that he denied you in front of his friend.

The whole time he was walking in circles around his neighborhood, Haechan can’t stop thinking about you and Jeno. Even hating the universe more for making him and Jeno like the same girl. Fuck, he murmured frustratingly until he came to a thought that maybe life brought you to Haechan’s life so he could finally give something back to his best friend.

Maybe he’s doing the right thing by letting you and Jeno get to know each other.

“You’re a fool,” his sister teases him while he watches her brush her teeth. Haechan just snorted and let out a small laugh knowing that his little sister is smart and that she’s growing up wise.

“But when you grow old you can’t just commit to something or someone if you know to yourself that you can’t. Be honest,” he kisses her sister good night and tucked her to bed. Wishing for her sister to grow up strong and smart, and not like him.

///

After a few weeks of seeing Jeno and going out on dates with him, you force yourself to think that what happened between you and Haechan is just a one time thing. That you were just horny teenagers that night who both had a bad day that’s why you thought it was something special.

It’s not that you’re using Jeno to forget Haechan, but Jeno is the one making his moves and trying so hard to impress you. He’s almost as nice as Haechan you thought. Maybe that’s why they’re best friends, and maybe that’s why now you look forward to seeing Jeno every day because you see Haechan in him.

Until one night, you and Jeno had a rather hot night that leads you two to his bed. Sex with Jeno is rough and fast and to be honest you forgot how many condoms he used because the sex was that good. And in that very moment, you realized that the only difference between Jeno and Haechan is the way they fuck. Jeno made you forget Haechan whenever you two are in bed and that made you want Jeno to fuck you more each day.

But Jeno is a natural sweetheart, a lover boy who shows you that he is a great man and a good person. “I know we fuck too much and it's obvious that something is bothering you” he says, hugging you closely while you’re on top of him after a very good car sex. “You can tell me, you know?” he added but you just shook your head no. “Okay okay, I understand. I love you. Whatever you’re going through or whatever that’s bothering you, continue to lean on me. Use me if you must,”

And right then and there, you decided to return the love Jeno is giving you.

It was not easy but it was worth it. Jeno loved you so much, more than you could ever imagine. You spend your senior year together, made memories each day, have good sex after school or during weekends, be the life of the party together, and meet each other’s family.

“Are you happy with me?” he whispers behind your ear while he hugs you from behind.

“What kind of question is that?” you said, turning around to meet his eyes and rake his hair away from his face. Not giving a fuck about the people watching you two flirt in the middle of a crowded place with drunk teenagers.

“Just a question. My way of checking if I’m still a good boyfriend” he admitted shyly. You rolled your eyes and came closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips which soon became heated and his hands roamed freely around your body.

“Mhmm. I'm happy, I love you” you whisper and you mean it.

“I love you too” he smiles and continues the kiss.

And while you two are in your own private world minding your business, Haechan watches from afar with a beer in his hand. Jealous, but not mad. Happy, but for you and his best friend. You deserve each other, he thought.

So as you and Jeno make your relationship strong and pour all your love on each other, Haechan became even more hardworking, focused more on his studies, and looking for more jobs to save more money. It was his way of forgetting you.

During a party that Jeno threw in his house, everything was intensely wild and everyone got drunk during the party, except Haechan because he was late due to his shift from one of his part-time job.

He saw you laughing with your friends near the poolside. You look beautiful tonight, as always. And at the same time, you look drunk already and all he wanted to do is take care of you but that’s not his job.

“Great that you’re here man, ugh. I’m so drunk” Jeno whines, almost about to throw but he’s still in control. “Here. Promised her dad I’d bring her home, but obviously, I can’t now. I can’t drive while I’m like this, knowing that she’s in the car with me. Too risky. Please dude, thank you”

And just like that, the responsibility and the power to take care of you is passed unto him.

“Baby, Haechan will bring you home- I can’t drive” Jeno admitted to you. Giving you his jacket before he walks you towards his car.

“W-what? Let me stay then, I’ll take care of you. Then you can drive me home when you’re sober” you said but your boyfriend said no and told you you’re as drunk as him. So you didn’t have a choice but to go inside the car with Haechan. He watched you two kiss goodbye and say your I love yous with each other before he drives away and takes you home.

The drive was silent. You didn’t dare to open your mouth and ask how he’s been, he didn’t dare to open his mouth and tell you that you’re beautiful. And it stayed like this until he reaches your house and parked in front of it.

“Do you remember the night that you walked me home?” you started, and you think it’s the alcohol that's talking. Haechan just nods and lets out a heavy sigh. “I wish it never happened. I wish I didn’t flirt back then and went back inside that bar instead of asking you to take me somewhere quiet” you admitted, feeling your heart break but you can finally breathe better now that you told him what you really feel. But deep inside you didn’t mean it. You’re just saying that because you’re still mad at him for denying you.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and reached for you, shamelessly hugging you, and placed a sweet kiss on your temple. You feel his tears and that made you hug him back. Staining his shirt with your tears that you kept for months.

“I’m sorry. I can’t give you what Jeno can give you. My life is a mess, I’m a trash and you deserve someone better. Someone who can take care of you, I can’t” he hugged you a little bit tighter to let you know that he’s sincere. And after a few minutes of silence, he explained his part to you and you listened attentively not because he owes you an explanation but because you miss his voice.

“When I was new here, bullies just won't stop teasing me, then Jeno became my friend and suddenly they all stopped. Jeno didn’t mind if I’m poor, he just wanted a brother and found it in me. That’s why whenever I’m in need he’s always to the rescue, my books, my mother’s job, this Rolex watch that I only use whenever I need it at work. I remember he gave this to me because he didn’t want to give me cash because he was afraid that will make me feel small. So instead he gave me this watch and expected me to pawn it. But I can’t because it’s like a token of our friendship”

“I get it. Bro code” you said calmly and watch him nod. “But who are you to tell me who to love. My heart still belongs to you when Jeno was courting me, I think about you when he kisses me-“

“Do you still feel the same way?” he blurted out, looking at your lips and thinking of kissing it one last time before you have your closure. But he won't.

“I love Jeno but you still have this great effect on me, you still have my heart” you admitted.

“I’m sure you understand me now. Why I don’t want to hurt my friend” you nod because you do understand him, you don’t want to hurt your boyfriend either, “He’s an angel” Haechan added.

When Haechan left and drove away, you feel like he took your heart away with him. Like that one specific night you had sex with him and you didn’t want him to go. You know what you said. You don’t want to hurt Jeno and you do love him, but what can you do? Your heart still belongs to Haechan.

After that understanding with Haechan, you suddenly became cold towards Jeno and all you could think about is Haechan. Obviously, Jeno can see right through you. He knows you, whenever something troubles you, you will keep it to yourself and you won’t tell it to him. So he made a way to cheer you up, but it ended up annoying you.

He invited you to his house to have a sleepover and movie night with him. The thing is, Jeno knew you love having sex with him so the moment you two are alone in his room with all the lights off and only his big flat-screen TV is on, he tried putting you in the mood and became way too touchy.

“Stop” you whine as Jeno starts kissing your neck while his hands roam free around your body. It feels good you can’t lie, but you’re not in the mood so you pushed him a little too hard which made him even more frustrated.

“What did I do wrong? I wish you could open up to me more, Y/n” he gets up from his bed and gave you space. “You’ve been like that for days and days already, I don’t know if I did something wrong. Baby, just tell me. I’ll fix it,”

And there it is. Your very reason why you loved him “Why do you have to be so nice?” you murmur and sat beside him. You knew that this isn’t the right time to tell him about Haechan, but he asked what's bothering you so you’re going to tell him the truth and do the right thing. Bravely, you told him every inch of your feelings, the truth about you and Haechan, and hopes that he will not get mad at you or his friend.

He listened. While Holding your hand. Close to tears but he won’t cry in front of you. Not yet. But now that he knows the truth about you and his best friend, he felt like he stole you from him.

“Don’t be mad at him, he just feels obligated to give back to all the kindness you have done to him and his family” you wait for his reaction. You expect him to get mad or throw a fit but all he did was kiss your knuckles, hold them tightly, and kept you close while he can.

“So what now? Do you need time? Space even? It hurts like hell, I must admit but I can’t force you to stay” he says, with tears in his eyes and trying so hard to look strong.

“I need space from the both of you, choosing is not easy. I don’t want to hurt you in the future Jeno” you said.

“I can’t force you to stay, but I can beg right? I love you-“ He cups your face and leaves too many kisses on your lips, saying he loves you over and over again, begging you to please choose him.

“I’m sorry Jeno, please don’t beg. You don’t deserve this,” you made him stop begging and pull him into a tight hug. Inviting him to come to bed with you and savor this night together while you can because, on the next day, you will leave him.

///

When you broke up with Jeno and focused all your energy on school, you walk almost every day from school to your house just so you can sort out your thoughts.

Jeno stopped begging you to come back after a few months and got himself a new girlfriend while Haechan… well, he’s doing his best with avoiding you. Still, breaking up with Jeno is a wise decision because now it’s clear that you don’t love him like how you love and long for Haechan.

“Fuck” you curse at the rain for pouring out of nowhere and you have no choice but to enter the store that Haechan is looking after. Just like the rain, you came out of nowhere and shock him. But shocking him and ruining his peace was not your intention, you’re just waiting for the rain to stop so you can go and walk again.

Shivering because of the store’s air conditioning, you hug yourself to keep yourself warm in every way you can but it’s not enough. You tried going out again but the rain kept pouring and it started to rain hard again when you tried and open the door. But then you heard the sound of the air conditioning being turned off, and Haechan is behind you holding the remote and some extra clothes.

“You’ll get sick if you stay wet. Here-“ he awkwardly hands you an extra shirt and his hoodie, “You can change back there. There’s no one else in this store except me,” he says and points at the door for the staff room. Of course you accepted his offer and you’re happy that he still cares.

When you got back, you saw him preparing you a hot drink and made you sit on one of the vacant chairs. “How are you?” he asks, stirring the drink and puts it in front of you carefully.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. How about you? How's your sister?”

“I’m doing good too. And my sister is fine”

And after that, an awkward silence made you both giggle and feel shy about being alone in this cold store. But not for long. Haechan initiated the conversation and made small talk with you. If he’s being honest right now, he doesn’t want you to shut up. He wanted you to talk and talk freely without being shy… like that first night you spend together.

When the rain stopped, he walked you home again and you both enjoyed the cool breeze and wet street. Admiring the calmness that the rain brought. “Why did you avoid me? After me and Jeno broke up?” you asked calmly.

“I know we learned the hard way and we’ve been through some stuff” he came closer and put strands of your hair behind your ear, “I’ve been helping myself to be better for you so this time I won’t fuck us up, and I wasn’t avoiding you. I’m giving you time to heal” he smiles and looked into your eyes deeply.

“Can we start again?” he finally blurted out. “This is my final attempt on keeping you, and… I just want to fight for you this time”

The rain was a blessing after all. You don’t know if the rain was a sign of starting over again but you’re glad that you decided to walk today and got soaked in the rain and did not have a choice but to enter that convenience store. But you’re happy that the rain brought you back together, so you hugged him tightly as your answer and warned him with all your might.

“If I wake up tomorrow and you deny me again, I swear Lee Haechan-“

And just like that, he cuts you off with a kiss, an act of promise so you won’t need to worry for the next day. “My sister will kill me if I let go of you again” he giggles and continue kissing you.

Who would have thought that you need only the rain for you and Haechan to get back together? Because after that night, he kept his promise to you. He never left your side and you never left his. Life wasn’t easy for him still, but you made sure you stayed with him through thick and thin.

Even though Haechan can’t bring you to expensive dates or movie dates, being with him while he’s working at the convenience store is more than enough for you. “I love my job. I can earn money while having a study date with you in this cold store” he says, kissing your temple while you’re busy reading and studying beside him.

Your remaining high school days were full of him and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

After graduation, you and Haechan planned on living together even though you’re both going to different schools, thankfully your schools aren’t that far from each other. Living together is not easy, your parents warned you. But Haechan made it easy for you because he loves you so much. Nonetheless, you would still choose a hard life with and just so you could be together the moment you open your eyes in the morning until you close them to end your day at night.

“It's you and me from now on, Y/n” he whispers beside your ear, hugging you from behind so tightly like you’re going somewhere and finally kiss you good night.

MAIN MASTERLIST FAQ / WIPS / CALENDAR ABOUT B

To this blog’s audience, please do not steal my works save yourself from the shame. Do not translate my works, they’re not worthy. Also if you see someone who stole my work, kindly reach out to me.

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thewritetofreespeech · 4 years

Note

hello! can you write scenario for akashi, aomine, kise, and kagami where their s/o is jealous of all the attention they're getting from other girls?

awwww. adorbs! certainly ^_^ 🖤

Jealous S/O

Akashi

It’s not a surprise that he was popular.

Akashi was smart, handsome, rich. Great at academics, and sports, and the youngest student council president in the history of Rakuzan. You didn’t believe in people being perfect, but if ever someone was going to get close it would be Akashi. He really lived up to the ‘Emperor’ nickname.

And what was an Emperor without his court.

“What’s wrong [Y/N]?” You look up from the pavement as you walked to class to see Akashi staring at you. His gaze focused, but soft & concerned. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh…it’s nothing.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. Prepared to let this go. Of course, Akashi wouldn’t let it though. He continued to stare at you until you finally broke down and told him. “It’s just them.”

The red head turned to look where you had jutted your chin towards the girls, huddled behind one of the pillars in the court yard whispering & staring, and your boyfriend let out a sigh. “Ah yes. Them.” He doesn’t seem surprised by their presence. Nor their borderline stalking. You should have guessed that he knew they were there. “I just choose to ignore them. However, if they are making you uncomfortable, I can order them to stop.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to cause trouble. And although it was annoying, you didn’t want to break another girl’s heart over their rejected feelings. “It’s not a big deal. It’s the burden of dating the ‘Emperor’ I guess.” His lips scrunch. Though the nickname stuck over time, you know he doesn’t actually care for that title. “I just feel a little bit like one of those women in a historical K-drama. You know, like someone is waiting in the wings to knock me off so they can take my place near the emperor.” Sometimes you kind of feel like I should start checking my lunch for poison or glass.

Akashi scoffed a little. Then leaned in to kiss your cheek. “That’s never going to happen.” He assured you. “My heart belongs to only you. And, if anyone were to hurt you, I’d gouge their eyes out.”

Perhaps it’s poor form to giggle at such a threat, but you do. He really was so protective of you. You really had no reason to be jealous, because no one was going to take Akashi away from you.

You continue on your way to class. The ‘court’ suspiciously hanging back more than usual after that day.

Aomine

The street ball court was a buzz as usual whenever Aomine played.

His ‘quick game’ with the challenges on the court had turned into a full basketball brawl that had lasted for hours. One-on-one after one after another.

Not that you minded. Watching Aomine play, and seeing him happy, was always thrilling. He always looked so cool when he played; giving his all, even against weaker players. You chuckle to yourself. He really was a terrible guy to take such joy in crushing people. But then what did that say about you when you were so turned on by it?

“That dark skin guy is so hot! Do you think he’s foreign?”

You turn away from the court to a gaggle of girls, some your age, some older, watching the game as well from the side lines. Some had noticed the game and come to watch. Others had come with their own boyfriends. You frown a little as they continue to whisper and gush over your boyfriend. Getting moodier by the second.

“Yo, what’s up?” You look up from glaring at the lines on the court; just in time to see Aomine place his ball he was holding in one hand against your head. “You look pissed. Are you not having fun?”

“Not really.” You confess, batting his hand away. You weren’t having fun now. He was talking to you, but those girls still couldn’t take their eyes off them. “Can we go now?”

“What?? But things are just getting started.” He lifted his shirt up as he whined to wipe the sweat from his brow and you could practically hear the siren like squeals from those thirsty ass bitches.

“I don’t like the crowd here.”

Aomine seemed to catch on, and looked to the side to see who was annoying you. You have to assume he expected to see some guy making you uncomfortable, based on his expression, but looked surprised when he saw it was just a bunch of girls; totally playing it off like they weren’t staring at him a moment ago. “What can I say babe? I can’t help it if girls think I’m super hot and junk.” His cockiness and smirk were not attractive at the moment.

You continue to pout, but just long enough for Aomine to lean in and give you a peck on said pout. “Let me kick this guys ass and then we can go. ‘Less you wanna stick around and make ‘em jealous back. We can do gross couple stuff until they get weirded out and leave.”

You chuckle again at the offer. Appreciating the gesture he was trying to make. “Go play your game and then we can go. If we’re going to do ‘gross couple stuff’, I’d rather do it in private where we can enjoy it.”

Aomine gave you a big grin, followed by a loud, “yes ma’m!”

Of course, he slaughtered the guy in the next game. Leaving him to sulk off back to his own girlfriend; who was indeed in the pack and not looking too happy about it. You both leave after that to finish your date. Aomine proud as a peacock for the rest of the afternoon from the ego boost.

Kise

It was hard, dating a model.

You knew of Kise’s profession before you started dating, of course, but you had no idea how hard it would be on your relationship.

Girls stopped him every chance they got to ask for his autograph, or gush over his new photobook. He of course was courteous and polite. Turning on that model charm. He always thanked them for their patronage of his work and they promised to always support him. It had been bad before, but ever since his game was televised this past season, it had grown into a circus. Not only was he the beautiful blonde-haired boy they all admired, but now he was also the super-hot jock they all drooled over. You could barely go out on a proper date anymore without being accosted by some female vying for his attention.

“[Y/N]-cchi, what’s wrong? You look upset.”

“This is ridiculous!” You told him, and you weren’t just talking about his huge sunglasses & stupid hat he was wearing to try and be ‘incognito’. It wasn’t working even a little bit, so now it was just doubly stupid. “Why can’t they leave you alone for 10 minutes?!”

“They’re my fans [Y/N]-cchi. I can’t disappoint them!”

“Right. Don’t disappoint them. Why don’t you hang out with them today then?” You mutter sullenly. Prepared to leave.

Kise seemed to realize what was going on, and just how upset you were, as he reached out to grab you hand. “I don’t want to hang out with them [Y/N].” You turn back around when he said your name like a real person. Not the cute little way he did it as part of his act. “I don’t want anyone else but you. They only like me because I’m handsome and a model.” Humble too, you think to yourself. “They don’t really care about me. You do! I don’t want to lose that. Please forgive me.”

He did genuinely look hurt, and you have to believe that he meant it. You sigh. It wasn’t totally Kise’s fault. “It’s alright Ryouta.” You tell him. He seemed to perk up a little at that. “If you could maybe not lay it on so thick for them in the future, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course [Y/N]-cchi!” He cheered with a beaming smile. Already back to his normal self. “I’d do anything for you!”

It doesn’t stop of course. But Kise kept true to his word and politely asked to be left in peace. Most respected that. Some weren’t as understanding of his needs. You just appreciated that he was trying to keep them at bay. Fangirls were weird.

Kagami

After practice, you and Kagami went to Maji Burger, as per usual. And, as per usual, people were staring at your table.

Most of the time they were staring at the loud, tall teen scarfing down his body weight in hamburgers. Amazed at his own personal eating contest. However, more recently, the people staring were girls from your school who had also come here. And they were staring at Kagami only.

He was completely oblivious to it, but Kagami was actually really popular; even before Serin started wining so much. He was tall, athletic, built. He’d come from America, which was so cool for a lot of the students around here. Plus, he had this whole ‘bad boy basketball star’ vibe going. If they only knew how much of a sweet heart he really was. Actually, scratch that. If they knew that would only make it worse.

“Hey, what’s up [Y/N]? You’re not eating. Do you not like your food?”

You look up from your own, normal portion on the tray, then back down as you play with your food. “It’s just hard to eat when people are staring.”

Kagami blinked. Then looked around to see what you were talking about. “I don’t see anybody.”

“Of course you don’t….” You mutter under your breath. He never did.

“What does it matter?” He asked. “It’s not like I can stop people from looking at me. They have eyeballs. It’s a free country.”

“That’s not the point Kagami. It’s not that they’re looking at you. It’s the fact that they’re looking at you.” You’re trying to be discrete here, but subtle or discretion never really got through to Kagami. “They wanna fuck you.”

Kagami choked on his burger halfway devoured in his mouth. “Don’t say that!” He scolded you. Once he’d recovered from his near-death experience.

“Well, it’s true. Maybe that’s a bit much, but they definitely look at you that way, and it’s annoying.”

“How can you even tell?”

“Because it’s how I look at you.” You muttered under our breath again. Fidgeting with our soda straw to avoid eye contact.

Kagami heard you again though and now you were both blushing in the booth. “Well…the only one I’m interested in looking at me that way is you.” He muttered back. “The only one I’m interested in looking at that way is you.” His leg moved forward under the table to touch yours. Simple, secret, intimate.

You smile softly as you realize it was stupid to be jealous. Kagami had no guile. He was honest to a fault, which was another of his amazing qualities. He genuinely didn’t see those other girls because he was only focused on you. So let them stare. There was no way they were going to take him away from you.

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

The Heirs of Shadow

Prompt: here

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Language and Fluff

Part I

Calanmai

The shadows danced along the obsidian walls of the chamber, jumping and fluttering across the marble floor and the intertwining carved beasts that scaled the width of the room, waving across the walls and the ceiling.

Behind the doors, Elain could feel the pulsating throb of the revelry that was taking place in the opulent halls and loggias of Hewn City. Fire Night. Calanmai. Beyond the onyx-black bowels of the city, up, up, up somewhere in Night Court, the night skies were streaking with falling stars. Starfall.

Starfall was somewhere else though—they had glimpsed it, taken in its beauty, but now, Calanmai was in full swing.

Azriel’s powerful, muscular body strained over hers, his arm gripping her hip so hard, she was sure that it would leave bruises. Not that Elain cared—she loved the marking of his love on her flesh. She loved the lilac bruises that he left on her neck with his lips and teeth, and the outline of his hands on her thighs, her waist, her…everywhere. For a man who was known for his self-control, and who embodied cold, calculated sophistication and cruelty to all those who did not know him well, Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, loved Elain Archeron with an uncharacteristic degree of unrestrained passion and blind, all-encompassing adoration. He was not above kissing her with uninhibited ambition in public, or slipping his scarred hand into her jacket and cupping a handful of her soft breast or pinching her behind when fancy struck him. It struck him frequently. His love was reciprocated, at last, and there was no limit to his indulging of his gorgeous female. His betrothed and his Lady. The glittering band of her betrothal bracelet was testament not only to their mutual love, but also his wealth and the degree to which he was willing to spoil her. In fact, he had picked out every diamond, every amethyst, every pearl that comprised the intricate flower design of the bracelet himself. Gone were the days when he had to hide his love and desire for her, when the only acceptable gift was a dainty necklace of stained glass. In fact, he designed a very similar necklace for her yet again, only instead of glass, it was rubies and pearls and pink diamonds.

The glint of the necklace in fact, bounced against her creamy skin, the pendant sliding between her swaying breasts. He kissed her, slow and hot, watching her body arch beneath him. The kiss was slow, but not gentle, their mouths fusing together in desperation, as if they’ve been apart for too long, that the previous 500 years were unbearable for him and he needed to fill his lungs with her, with her breath, her very soul, as he sucked and sucked on her lips.

Elain’s nails sunk into his broad, thickly muscled shoulders, and Azriel dipped his head, groaning into her throat, dragging his tongue from her hot, pulsating vein back to her lips, sliding back into her mouth. She kissed him back, sloppy and heated, her lips swollen and ruby-red, before pressing the heel of her palm into his chest and pushing at him.

“I want to look at you,” she moaned, her eyelids heavy with want.

He pulled up and did as he was told, settling on his knees and allowing her to trace the skin of his cobbled abdomen with her fingertips. He was running hot and volatile, his dark brown skin gleaming like dirty bronze beneath the faelights, his wings spayed and open behind him, casting shadows on his sculpted, inked shoulders. His soft, inky-black hair fell across his forehead, sticking slightly to his damp skin, and she smiled at him and rubbed her thumb between his eyebrows.

His thick cock glided in and out of her tight glorious heat and he pushed inside of her with an obscene, wet sound, feeling the smooth thrust of his shaft in her.

“My good girl,” he murmured, extracting loud, explicit moans from her parted lips, while his thumb settled on her pulsating, engorged clit, rubbing firmly, with precise, firm pressure. Elain’s head rolled back, her honey-golden hair fanning out over the dark-gray satin of the pillows. She felt overflowing, torturously stuffed with him, which was the most glorious, gorgeous fullness that she could ever imagine.

“Open up for me, beautiful,” he ground out, “so I can ride you like you need,”

Elain obliged compliantly, wordlessly splitting even further for him, as Azriel gripped her thigh and pulled her deeper onto his shaft, while hoisting her leg onto his shoulder.

“Look at us, my love,” he urged, thrusting harder into her, his gaze gluttonous with pleasure and utter satisfaction. Elain could barely lift herself up on her elbows, but she looked between their bodies, watching her splayed pink folds, his member disappearing in and out of her, glistening with their arousal. His long brazen finger thrust alongside his shaft, the fit impossibly tight, but so wonderfully pleasurable.

She squeezed her breasts in her palms, absently fingering her nipples, watching the explicit show between her legs, while Azriel smiled at her and kissed her foot that rested on his shoulder. She bit her lower lip, enjoying the indecent scrutiny with which his eyes skimmed over her body, as both of them watched the workings of his cock inside of her.

“Do you want to taste, my sweet?” he offered, his midnight voice smooth and sensual, encouraging even more debauched behavior from her, and she nodded eagerly.

Licking her lips impatiently, she murmured, ‘yes’ and he rewarded her with a smile, while slowly pulling out of her stretched passage.

“Az, my love,” she moaned, emptied of him, instantly missing the presence of his thick, long member in her, her hole twitching at the loss. But he pulled her up gently by her back of her neck and instantly fed the shaft in her mouth, thrusting deep and far into her throat. She choked softly around him, but swallowed compliantly, sucking his length down into her mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he approved, holding the back of her head and pumping between her lips, watching her watch him. Her eyes, the color of milk chocolate, blinked rapidly, as she struggled against the girth of the member, but sucked on his bravely and eagerly. He enjoyed the sucking, noisy and wet, her tongue working on him constantly, licking their intermingling juices, but then he patted the corner of the bed, and Elain knew what he desired. She scooted over, and lay back on the cool sheets, never releasing the cock from her mouth, holding it tightly in her hand, as she lapped on the broad head of it, playfully dipping the tip of her tongue into the tiny slit.

They’ve been at it for hours now. Calanmai. Fucking, eating, drinking, fucking, fucking. That’s what people did on Calanmai. Elain figured that perhaps, this would be her new favorite holiday. Always to be celebrated here, in Hewn City, her new home.

The Lord and Lady of Hewn City, feared and venerated—that’s what they were. Who would have thought that Elain would love Hewn City, its obsidian beauty, its marble and granite lined ‘streets’, its unbridled opulence, its soaring columns, its ceilings lit up with faelights that were ensconced in chandeliers that were dripping crystals and silver.

They had begun today’s festivities by following its ancient custom of the Great Rite. As the Lady and Lord of the Underworld, they did not need to ‘choose’ each other, for they were already chosen—chosen the moment the Darkbringers acknowledged Azriel as their Commander General, and Rhysand how no other choice but to pass the crown of Stewardship to his shadowsinger. With Keir dead, all assumed that the magic and the power of the Hewn City and the Darkbringers would pass on to Mor, or one of the sons, yet, it skipped the family entirely. The magic of Hewn City left the bloodline of the High Lord, moving over to Azriel’s line. And just like that, Azriel became Prince of Velaris, the Lord of Hewn City, and Elain, his chosen Lady.

Today was the first year they presided over Fire Night, and while Azriel worried about Elain, she reminded him that she was the Lady of Hewn City and therefore, would participate in all rites and rituals, just like Feyre participated in them as the High Lady of the Night Court.

The entire population of Hewn City, tens of thousands of them vibrated and pulsed in anticipation, gathered in the Great Hall, hundreds spilling outside, thousands crowding the balconies and terraces above.

For Elain, it was the initial walk that was the most nerve wrecking. Naked, she was expected to enter the hall and await Azriel’s arrival. But she squared her shoulders, and draped in nothing but jasmine and moonflowers that cascaded down her unbound hair she made her walk, regal and unhurried, as any queen. When he’d arrived, the new Lord and master of the place, the place shook with a different kind of energy.

And then, they joined together on their throne, in front of their subjects, and Azriel rode her long and hard, until she barely remembered that she was being watched by thousands of eyes. She was eager and willing, taking him in any position that he desired, until he filled her with seed and spilled the rest of it upon the stones of his domain, signifying the start of Calanmai.

The insemination was met with wild cheering and Elain felt nothing but prideful satisfaction after the ritual was concluded and his seed dripped down her thighs, for all to see. She was their Lady, the benevolent one, the kind and just one, while Azriel still inspired fear and trepidation in most. The seed that filled her and poured out of her as she walked through the throngs of people, all of whom looked at her with admiration and excitement, was a sign of good things to come. After centuries, perhaps millennia of stagnation, Hewn City would rise again to its former glory. Lady Elain would be the catalyst for it.

Azriel settled atop of her, her head thrown over the edge of the bed, and rubbed the head of the member over her lips, tugging on it slowly, his eyes wide with the anticipation of pleasure.

“I love Calanmai,” she vowed with a joyful sight, and he laughed.

“Indeed?”

She nodded, licking the tip of the member. “You aren’t tired?” he asked, for they’ve been entangled for a while now. She shook her head no. “Tired? Until you, my lord, render me unable to walk tomorrow, then I might consider myself tired!”

“Is this what you want, my girl?” he asked, his voice gravelly and breathy with lust. Beads of liquid dribbled onto her tongue from his straining member. She whined with anticipation, nodding impatiently, while he guided the shaft into her mouth, her position allowing him to slide deeper and deeper and deeper.

There was nothing that Azriel didn’t love about Elain. Nothing. There was no word ‘no’ in his vocabulary when it came to her. She was his strength, his rock, the one person in this world who offered him complete understanding and acceptance, who supported him gently and lovingly through every peril and cataclysmic change that had taken place in their lives.

Sexually, Elain was brave and tolerant, experimental and curious. Every part of her was enticing and sensual, but nothing excited him more than her willingness and ability to take him in her throat, usually, without him even asking for it. Elain surprised him daily, but her voracious sexual appetite was a marvelous, unexpected gift for him. Because it matched his own perfectly.

He gently cupped her hollowed cheek and rubbed his thumb over the warm, flushed skin of her face, murmuring, “you feel so good, my love. So wet and ready for me.”

Elain hummed against his member and gasping and panting, and the vibrations of her mouth against the head of the member had him moaning, his head thrown back. She stroked his muscled stomach, running her palm over the hard, defined ridges, while he began thrusting between her lips, the tip striking the back of her throat with each push. He gingerly cupped her head, her soft, messy locks a tangle in his fingers, and kept it steady, while she allowed him to use her mouth the way he liked it.

Azriel was not a talkative man, and because he was quiet and reserved and cerebral, most assumed that he was a tender lover. He was not.

So when he plunged into her mouth, it was not gentle, though he was always considerate and acutely aware of all her emotions and reactions. Spymaster, after all.

“My good girl,” he began a litany of praise, “you feel so good. My sweet, beautiful Lainey—are you enjoying yourself, my love?” he looked over his shoulder for a moment and a smirk played on his lips. She was clenching her thighs in desperation, gurgling and panting softly around his member, and he pumped harder, clasping her jaw and muttering, “is sucking my cock making you even wetter?”

She attempted to nod, but it was virtually impossible, though he didn’t need confirmation seeing her rosy folds bathed in her arousal. Taking pity on her, he slipped three fingers in her, and they slid in easily and fully, the walls of her sex clutching at them strongly.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asked, his hand working inside of her with quick, deep thrusts, while he used her mouth brutally, watching tears spill down her cheeks from the pressure. She did not respond in any meaningful way, indicating that it was up to him to find his pleasure within her, wherever he wanted. He smiled and caressed her sweaty, flushed face, while she chocked lightly against him, stroking his balls with her usual tenderness. He moaned, especially when he glanced lower and gritted through his teeth, “Love, I can see my cock in your throat,” he gasped, his eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness, cloaked in oily lust. Every time he pushed, the member bulged and imprinted in her throat, and he couldn’t help himself and gently lay his scarred hand on the spot, feeling the vibrations of his dick against his palm. He almost came right then and there, himself panting and gasping for air, and even if this certainly wasn’t the first time he saw his cock protrude in her throat, it never failed to cause some instinctual male reaction in him. His wings flared and snapped open, uncontrollable, guided by nothing but base instinct to show his female who was inside of her. By the Cauldron, if he could stay like this forever, he would.

Alas, he could hold back no longer and with a few well-placed thrusts, he felt Elain’s throat contract on him and that was his undoing. His release swept like a tidal wave over him and came in her mouth, making her groan with feral pleasure as he spilled and spilled into her. He was thinking that maybe Calanmai was his favourite holiday as well.

He collapsed alongside her, his wings a mess beneath him, but he didn’t even care. His breath was ragged and heavy, but she lovingly fed her nipple between his teeth and he sucked, tucking her beside him, murmuring an endless string of ‘I love you’ and ‘thank you’ into the soft, wonderfully comforting globe. She held his head against her breast, moaning sweetly, delighted at his steady sucking, wiggling against him to get more.

Once they’ve calmed down a lit, she kissed his neck, while twisting her wrist before her eyes, watching the sparkling and gleaming bracelet explode with a thousand tiny lights in the shadows of faelights and the fire in the marble fireplace.

“Do you really love it?” he murmured, kissing her hand.

“Being yours…your bride and your Lady is all that I want,” she admitted, “but,” she smiled, “yes, my love, I love it. Isn’t it stunning?!”

He nodded, “I think I did well.”

“I can’t believe that you designed it yourself!” she kissed his chin, then his lips. “What other incredible talents do you possess that I am not aware of?”

He turned onto his back, rearranging his wings in some semblance of acceptable order and tugged her next to him. Running his finger over the bracelet, he said, “well, let’s see—I sing.”

“Uh-uh,” she pouted. “But never in front of me!”

“One day, my sweet, one day,” he teased.

“What else?”

“I enjoy building things…carving wood. I think that deep down, I am just a humble carpenter.”

Her brow furrowed, “have I seen any of your work? Or are you being stupidly humble as usual and refusing to show it to anyone?”

He laughed, amused by her indignation.

“No, I don’t believe that I am stupidly humble when it comes to my work. You might have seen it. Most of it is at Rosehall,”

“Oh, speaking of which—I promised your mother that I would visit!” Elain snapped her fingers, frowning at having forgotten.

He kissed her brow and said, “I am sure she’ll understand. Her daughter-in-law is a Lady of Hewn City,”

Elain smiled at the title.

“Even though,” she insisted, “I love her and I want to visit her. She said that she and the girls had made spice blends and mulled wine over the winter break and she wanted us to have it. And she also promised gifts for Calanmai,”

“You are my gift for Calanmai,” he whispered tenderly and kissed her. “My gift for every day. My gift for life.”

Elain cupped his cheek and kissed him back, running her tongue over his lower lip. She smelled and tasted of him, and he shuddered from the sensation, from the realization of how thoroughly his she was. His gift indeed.

Remarkably, it also made him hard.

Elain smiled and ran her finger down his chest, then his stomach.

“I am sorry, Lainey, I know you are tired,” he scrambled quickly, embarrassed by his response to her. Even by Fae standards, he was no spring chicken—not a green youth to be hardening at every kiss of these sweet, soft lips. Yes, he was a male in his prime, but,

“Once more?” she requested softly, batting her lashes at him and he grinned.

“Whatever my lady wishes,” he nodded with a courteous flair. The he kissed her and whispered into her lips, “tell me what you’d like, sweetheart?”

She chewed her lower lip, contemplating, the action making him ever harder. She found that very hardness at the ready for her, and wrapped her hand around him, rubbing him tightly, as she settled in the crook of his arm and he kissed her again.

“In my bottom, please,” she requested shyly.

Her secret, intimate pleasure that only Azriel was aware of. It thrilled him to know that she found pleasure with him, in him, in many different ways—from the simplest and most mundane, to the very intimate and personal, and only he could provide it for her.

“If that’s alright with you?” she added and he laughed, bringing her closer to his chest.

“I don’t think that I need to be pressured, sweetheart,”

She smiled and he parted her thighs, settling just behind her, muttering in her ear, “will you be a good girl for me? My good girl?”

She nodded, breath hitching in her chest, her breasts rising and falling in anticipation and she flicked her plump nipple with his fingers before biting it softly. She squirmed and her legs fell apart of their own volition, while he pressed his thumb into her clit and ground into it, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure, while he lined his member with her little opening. It was well-stretched from their previous bout, as he’d taken her everywhere in front of their Court, and then again, when they returned here, to their private quarters.

He pushed into her, easing slowly and carefully, and her back arched in his arms, as she pressed her face into his neck, moaning loudly. There was always a bit of pain, especially in the beginning, at the initial breach, and the sharp bite that he received on his clavicle was an indication of just that. She gripped the immense muscles of his shoulder, grunting and moaning into his neck, squeezing his arm so hard, it was sure to leave bruises. He was inside of her, his cock enveloped in such mind-boggling tightness that he ceased all movement, just to avoid coming at once.

He clasped her jaw and made her look at him. Her eyelids were heavy and a love-addled, blissful look settled on her face, while he lightly kissed her parted lips.

“Does that feel nice, my girl?” he asked, finally sliding a bit deeper, each shallow, easy thrust opening her up a little more.

“Az, Az,” she groaned breathlessly, “I can’t…it’s so…ohh,” she swallowed his thumb, still wet with her slick, needing to suck on something while he plunged forward, rocking his hips into her.

“Elain,” he hissed low and winced at the sweet, torturous friction that the walls of her bottom offered to his invading shaft. He pressed her to him, slowly bringing his hips against hers, and finally settling fully inside, while she went still and pliable in his arms.

The ache inside of Elain was particularly wonderful right now, even if she felt like she was being split inside—it always happened for a few moments—while her body spread to accommodate him.

“I fucking love you,” he moaned into her mouth, pulling his thumb out so he could ravish her with his tongue, while he returned back to her clit and stroked steadily.

He did not set an unreasonable pace, but rather moved languidly and deeply inside of her, kissing her to his heart’s desire. She nestled into his arms, stroking and kissing him lovingly, mewing and panting against his thorough, merciless thrusts.

“You feel sublime,” she confessed, watching him squeeze her breast, toying and tugging on the nipple.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” he asked, placing light, tender kisses all over her face. She laughed. “About a minute ago.”

“Good. Because I love you.”

“I love you too, Az,” she wrapped her arm around his neck, and then shuddered in his embrace, stuttering into his shoulder, “yes, yes, yes…like that…”

“You like that, my beauty?” he pumped harder now, knowing that the discomfort and pain were gone and she stretched wonderfully around him, taking him to the balls.

“Yes, yes,” she nodded, eyes shut, pleasure settling and growing somewhere inside of her. She milked and squeezed his cock frantically, urging him to move and give her more, and he did, pounding deeper into that marvelous tightness, against the lush silkiness of her quivering, trembling behind.

“Azriel,” she almost screamed, and then turned and swiftly straddled him, impaling herself with unstoppable determination, her wet, gleaming sex played widely in front of him, her other opening swollen and bursting around him.

Her plump tits bounced as she rode him, unconcerned about anything at this moment, her hair hanging limply over her body, her nails dug into his chest, her hips undulating on his cock.

“Baby, come for me,” he urged her, mesmerized by the wantonness of her creamy, pale body atop of him, the rhythmic bounce of her beautiful ass on his thighs, her determination to take what she needed from him.

With a roar that awoke the beasts, she shuddered and trembled over him, her rectum twitching and squeezing him so hard that he was unable to even work her through her climax, as he arched beneath her and his ecstasy was complete, as he spurted hot and thick inside of her. She went limp and he caught her in his arms, gently squeezing her against his chest and then waiting until the waves subsided for both of them, before kissing her hungrily.

He lay her down and then carefully withdrew, dragging his seed out of her with one long pull.

“Happy Calanmai,” she giggled and kissed him.

“Happy Calanmai, my love,” he stroked her damp hair.

He took her to the bathing chamber then, and they cleaned each other up quickly, for even the stoic Azriel was tired and all he wanted was to snuggle with his love and sleep. With her, he slept. She was his miracle.

By the time they returned to the bedroom, the bed was remade, the sheets changed and the subtle scent of jasmine perfumed the air. The wraiths who served at their court were nothing but efficient.

Elain’s beasts, two creatures who sat in stone for millennia, while Hewn City awaited its true master, and slumbered in its decadence, under the rule of the Night Court’s High Lords, awoke when the magic and power descended upon Azriel.

The creatures, and there were many of them here, awoke. But two, the ones who guarded the entrance to the City, were touched by Elain’s hand and released first. She freed them all, though some she put back to slumber, to be awoken when needed, though unlike before, they fed regularly, as opposed to once a decade.

But the two—Asterin and Sorrel—were Elain’s perpetual companions. The great fanged beasts, with powerful slithering bodies clad in impenetrable scales and with massive claws, not to mention keen intelligence and perfect understanding of language had made even Azriel a bit uneasy at first. Asterin was more physically powerful, but also playful, if volatile and temperamental, while Sorrel was calmer, if more brutal, and extremely overprotective of Elain.

Hewn City, especially during the transition of power, was not the friendliest of places, its new Lord well-known, disliked, feared and resented by a swath of its population. Even Elain, with her kindness and good-natured character, was not immediately successful in turning the tide of public opinion. Therefore, Azriel was more than concerned about leaving her here, if he had business elsewhere, but with Asterin and Sorrel, even his worries were put to rest.

The beasts were not exactly wyverns, or dragons, but creatures of their own. Like Rhys, they were able to summon their wings at will, which was perhaps something specific to Rhys’s bloodline, or somehow connected to Hewn City, but whatever the reason was, it was very, very useful. Elain had noted that having not one, but three winged creatures in the bedroom would be…excessive. Hence, when she and Azriel went to their palace atop the Court of Nightmares’ mountain, the beasts were free to fly and frolic about as much as they wanted. They also offered winged transportation to Elain.

At last, all three sisters were able to fly. Feyre simply summoned wings just like she always did. Nesta received her white mare pegasus, which she named Marena, from Helion (who still held out hope that she and Cassian would join him in some erotic escapade), as a mating gift. And lastly, Elain flew on her fanged beasts. Their three males could barely keep up.

Luckily, the beasts also went into hibernation when ordered, becoming stone-like, just like the sculptures that they once were. Because they insisted on sharing the quarters here, it was rather imperative that there was some privacy—because Azriel did not need to suddenly glance at a pair of slanted green eyes while licking Elain’s pussy.

Azriel deposited Elain on the bed and she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a hearty hug.

The shadows had returned—they left when they sensed that their master was about to engage in something private with the mistress—while Asterin and Sorrel coiled around the bed.

Even though their private apartment was located far inside the Hewn City Night Palace, they could still hear the partying occupants of the underworld Court. Azriel rolled his eyes and Elain laughed in return. He threw a shield over the bedroom, blocking the noise.

“Who knew that you’d fit right in, with Calanmai becoming your favourite holiday?” he muttered, squeezing her behind.

“I suppose the Cauldron doesn’t only make stupid mistakes,” she shrugged. “And once in a while gets something right.’

Part II

The Heirs of Shadow

Spring was in full bloom across the Night Court territory, slowly but surely crossing into summer.

The wind in Elain’s hair was sweet and scented with roses and pine. Asterin was like an enormous scaly snake-like puppy, swooshing through the air, making all sorts of unnecessary maneuvers beneath Elain’s saddle. “Hey! I will be going on Sorrel when we return,” she warned her beast and Asterin gave her a petulant snarl, but slowed down. The flight made Elain queasy and she was glad to see the cypress and pine-covered hills, and beyond them, a flower-covered meadow and a glittering, turquoise lake.

The stucco-covered villa stretched along the banks of the lake, one wall covered in ivy, and the other, in pink and white roses. As Asterin and Sorrel approached the villa, two children rushed out of the wrought iron gates, waving their arms in the air, jumping and yelling. Elain smiled at them, waving back.

“Elain, Elain,” the children rushed towards her the moment Asterin touched down, “we missed you so much! You came! Can we play with the wyverns? Can we go flying?”

Elain dismounted and squatted in the grass, opening her arms and then getting tackled onto her back, once the two children slid into her arms, hands and legs flailing about, smiles and at least one mouth with missing teeth grinning at her. She kissed soft cheeks and thick black hair, so alike to that of their oldest brother—Azriel.

“You two are such hooligans!” she laughed, finally managing to sit up, but they wouldn’t let get up, so they remained in the grass.

“Where is Az?” asked Nataliya, playing with Elain’s braid and closely inspecting her emerald earrings. “These are pretty! Do you have presents for me?”

“Nat, it’s rude to ask that!” at nine years of age, her brother Riad was the voice of reason and propriety. More than any other child, he reminded Elain of Azriel—a uniquely handsome boy, with a contemplative and scholarly attitude and yet remarkably swift, agile and fast. She’d watched him climb the old oak tree that grew on the property in under a minute. Sometimes, he and Azriel would go for a run, and the boy would keep up the entire time, without complaint, steadfast and determined, just like his brother.

“Why it’s rude if I want a present?” demanded Nataliya, shrugging. Elain kissed her head and said, “Lucky for you, I do have presents for everyone!”

The girl squealed, her round face breaking into a happy smile. “That’s good. I want them! You wanna see our baby?”

“Of course,” Elain nodded and then gave each one of them a hand and they tugged her upwards.

“Come on, Elain! You can do it,” Nat encouraged her, grunting.

“Is Az gonna come?” asked Riad quietly, once Elain was up, and they walked towards the villa, holding hands.

“Not right now, my loves. He is very busy,”

“He is High Lord!” exclaimed Nat, squeezing her chubby hands in delight. “He is busy, Riad!” she added confidently, “so he can’t come visit.”

“Maybe you can come and visit us in Velaris?” proposed Elain.

“Be careful what you ask for, darling!” a laughing voice interrupted their conversation.

Azriel’s stunningly beautiful mother was smiling at them, standing by the gate. Her lustrous black hair cascaded in rich, ebony waves around her, and the bright green eyes were in fine contrast to her dark golden skin. Her eldest son inherited her sensuous full mouth and every time Elain laid eyes on the woman, she could see Azriel’s visage in her face.

“We’d love to have you all,” insisted Elain, throwing her arms around her mother-in-law.

“Ma, we gonna go play with the wyverns!” announced Riad.

“Yes, with wyverns!” Nat nodded immediately. She was not yet five, and basically repeated everything that Riad did and said. “Which one is good?”

Elain chuckled, “they are both good. Asterin, the green one, likes to swim, so maybe you can go to the lake with her. And Sorrel, the gray one, she may even fly you about, if your mother permits,”

“Ma!”

Rosamunde winced a bit, but Elain murmured, “they’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Alright, but,”

Before she could even finish her sentence the two ran off towards the beasts.

“Ellie, you look wonderful,” Rosamunde locked arms with Elain and they slowly made their way inside Rosehall. A riot of flower beds greeted them and Elain sighed with delight. Who would have thought that she and her mother-in-law possessed the same interest and passion? Though Elain felt that Rosamunde’s gardens put hers to shame.

“Thank you,” she smiled, looking around.

The villa was a tranquil and stunning place, nestled in a valley, surrounded by low mountains and crystal-clear waterfalls. Azriel had purchased the estate long ago, while he was in love with Mor and had hoped that they would have a blissful future together. While he knew that they would always be tied to Velaris and Hewn City, he had imagined that Rosehall would be their escape, their private place to enjoy.

It was stunningly picturesque, with a mild tempered climate year-round, and a town a few leagues away, which supplied the estate with everything that it needed. However, things did not go as planned and instead, Azriel gifted the house and the lands around it to his mother, for her wedding to her life-long and long-suffering lover, partner, friend and the male who had waited for her for a century, and ultimately helped to rescue her from the clutches of Azriel’s father. The male was now an elected mayor of the town—a long way to come for a humble hunter who had once fallen in love with an Illyrian laundress and loved her for all the days of his life.

“So do you!” exclaimed Elain, breathing in the fragrant air and smiling widely. She loved Rosehall. It was a serene and gorgeous place, full of delightful smells and exquisitely stunning scenery.

“Come, come,” Rosamunde pulled her by the hand and they entered the house. It was cool and dim, but once they made their way down the terracotta-tiled hallway and stepped into the opulently enormous kitchen, light flooded the place. This kitchen was Elain’s inspiration for her own home—grand and open on three sides to take advantage of the glorious views outside, it was also homey and cozy, a place to accommodate a bustling, busy family. All the doors were open and a pleasant breeze wafted in and out, bringing in the scent of flowers and mingling with the smell of freshly baked tarts.

“Sit, sit,” Rosamunde offered and immediately sat a tall glass of lemonade before Elain.

“How’s my Azzie?” the mother asked, joining her at the long butcher block that stretched in the middle of the kitchen. A mother’s privilege, to call the famed shadowsinger, the feared spymaster, and now Lord—Azzie. Even Elain didn’t dare, though she teased him with it at times, causing many dramatic eyerolls in response.

“He is good,” Elain smiled a happy, satisfied smile which did not escape Rosamunde’s notice. Her charming daughter-in-law looked blissful and for some reason, it made Rosamunde’s heart ache with joy and pride. “Works too much,” Elain continued, sipping her lemonade, and helping herself to a peach cake which Rosamunde supplied promptly. Like all mothers, Rosamunde was convinced that both Azriel and Elain were too thin and did not eat enough. Hence, each time they visited, they returned laden with bushels of food, treats, jars of preserves and gods only knew what else. Now that there were two wyverns to carry the care packages, Elain couldn’t imagine how much she’d be given. Not that she minded.

Azriel had introduced Elain to his mother just after the betrothal and they had come here and spent a few days getting to know each other. Rosamunde had four children then, besides Azriel—Enid, who was over three hundred years old, and who was married to an Illyrian General (not an asshole, as Azriel explained), and then, hundreds of years later, she birthed four children almost in a row—unheard of in Fae society—Rafael, Riad, Nataliya and finally Ellena, with whom she was pregnant when she and Elain met.

Ellena now sat up groggily in a little play crib that stood in the corner and looked around, having just awoken from her nap. Seeing Elain, she immediately stood up and extended her arms to her.

Family. Elain had loved her father, but…family…

There used to be a family, but it was never quite normal, cohesive. Her mother only doted on Nesta, their father was frequently absent, Feyre was a solitary, quiet, dreamy child and Nesta was a formidable creature of her own. Elain learned how to navigate the dynamics early on, floating quietly between all of them, playing the peacemaker, being the good daughter. And while her sisters, and her nephew were her blood family, this—this was her new family, the one she loved. Her Azriel and all her new little nieces and nephews, and her mother-in-law, who was both a mother and a friend, and her father-in-law—an enormous, gregarious male who reminded her of Cassian, but who was even larger than the Illyrian General. When she came here, she felt in place, happy and cared for.

Rosamunde watched from the corner of her eye how Elain and Ellena hugged and cooed at each other, giggling and whispering, and she already knew that Elain wouldn’t let the baby go until it was time to leave. The three of them, well two, since Ellena mostly stuck her hands into things and smooshed food around, prepared lunch and then went outside, slowly walking down the path that led to the lake. Riad and Nat were using Sorrel as a slide, climbing on top of her and then sliding down her scaled back into the water, shrieking and screaming with joy and excitement, while Asterin lounged next to them, sunning her hide, watching them with lazy amusement.

“You smell like Az,” Rosamunde murmured suddenly, as they took off their dresses and waded into the water, because Ellena was throwing a fit and wanted to slide off Sorrel as well. Elain only allowed her a little jump off the wyvern’s tail, but Ellena loved it and screamed with delight, falling all over the place, while to two of them tried to catch her.

Elain, her shift irreversibly soaked, glanced at the female, as she helped Ellena climb up Sorrel’s tail. It was an unusual comment for Rosamunde to make. They were very close, and even though Rosamunde was over 700 years old, she looked like a woman in her early 30s, which made it easy for them to become friends, because on the surface they looked like they were almost the same age. And Azriel was born so, so long ago that Elain hardly ever thought of them as a mother and son. However, some conversations were off limits, and they certainly never discussed her and Azriel’s intimate relationship, even when they talked about males and their ways around the bedroom, giggling and joking over a few glasses of wine.

“Well, I,” Elain began saying, feeling a blush spreading over her chest and neck. “We…”

Yes, of course they’d made love in the morning, before she came here. They made love every morning. Every evening.

Rosamunde waved her hand at her, laughing, “Oh Cauldron! Please spare me the details!”

“Oh,”

“All I am saying is that your scents—they’ve amalgamated. I,” she sniffed delicately, “recognize him within you…Not just on your skin,”

“Really?”

Something passed across the female’s face, a small smile of recognition. Then she nodded, her face remaining unreadable, much like her son’s.

She nodded, “Yes. The cedar and the jasmine. A lovely scent indeed.”

“You smell good Elain?” Nat barreled into Elain’s arms, wrapping her arms around her neck.

Elain kissed her wet hair and said, “I guess I do. Are you ready to go and eat lunch?”

“No! I want to do this more!”

“Why don’t we come back after lunch and you can play more?” Elain proposed, somehow managing to convince the unruly bunch to actually get back into the house. While they walked, Nataliya declared, “I wanna be High Lady!”

Elain chuckled, “Yes? Why? What will you do as High Lady?”

Nat thought for a second and then said, “Gonna wear pretty dresses,”

“You already wear pretty dresses,” countered Elain.

“More pretty,” insisted the girl. “And eat cake!”

“So as a High Lady you’ll be wearing pretty dresses and eating cake?”

Nodding, the budding High Lady hooked her little finger over Elain’s bracelet and added, “Will wear this too! And crowns.”

“Well, well,” Elain laughed, “all good things.”

Nat seemed pleased by the prospect of her High Ladyship and skipped ahead, dreaming of crowns and cake.

“You know,” Rosamunde’s voice was thoughtful and quiet, “she may sound silly,”

“I think she is adorable,”

“She is, but even if she is only dreaming of nice dresses and cakes now, I am glad that she is able to dream like this at all. It wasn’t available to us—females—before. There were no High Ladies—not for a very, very long time. So much so, we’d forgotten that we could be one. It’s ironic that it took a human woman to bring the practice back to the Fae world. Now it’s you, and Lady Feyre, and Lady Viviane…I never thought I’d see this.”

“But your son is also a Lord,” reminded her Elain, gently pressing her lips to Ellena’s damp curls. “Was it a surprise?”

They’d never discussed the power transfer—not at any length. It was all very sudden and there hasn’t been time or perhaps even desire to talk about it.

“No,” Rosamunde shook her head, “not exactly a surprise. We hail from an ancient race of Fae—from a Court that no longer in existence,”

“Dusk?”

“Yes. They say that when Dusk was destroyed a few hundred families managed to survive and escape. They were the original inhabitants and builders of Hewn City. Over the centuries, bloodlines thinned, some mixed with other Fae, some with Illyrians…My bloodline is pure,”

Elain shot her a surprised look. Azriel had never mentioned this before.

“Azriel is a true and direct descendant of the Dusk Court nobility—through me—and perhaps even their High Lords…So, no, I was not particularly surprised. That’s why Keir and that family were always ‘stewards’, and not Lords.”

She sighed and looked ahead, as they approached the villa.

“My son,” she said softly, “has had a difficult life. An unhappy life. A life of incredible violence and heartache. A life without childhood, or love, or anything positive or any light…That he is a shadowsinger is not a good thing, you know…It’s a curse, not a blessing. But,” and she glanced at Elain, her sad, soft face, “now he has you. Gods, Elain, you have no idea how happy you make him.”

Elain blushed, a tear-touched smile on her face. “I,”

“Elain, love, you will never know,” Rosamunde wrapped her arm around Elain’s shoulder. “He isn’t a man of many words, but believe me when I say this—I would have been heartbroken if he was granted this burden of power without you at his side. It would just be another weight added onto his shoulders, and I wouldn’t want that for my son. But you came along, and everything fell into place…You and him, and how the Power chose both of you,”

“We aren’t mates,” Elain reminded her quietly, knowing how much importance the Fae placed on the bond.

“And? Perhaps you are even more than that?” Rosamunde shrugged. “Believe me—I’ve seen some happy matings, Rhys and Feyre, for example, but I’ve seen some bad ones as well—Rhys’s parents come to mind. Your own mate bond ended up being faulty…What if you have more than a bond? Not just a bond of love, but that of power? Think about it…” she cocked her brow.

Elain hadn’t considered that option, but now she pondered the suggestion, the implication of it all.

“And you?” she asked instead.

Rosamunde smiled and looked back, towards the town which nestled under the mountains, leagues away.

“And I am an example that bonds don’t matter. No one can possibly love me more than Finrod does, and seven hundred years later, I still get weak in the knees at the sight of him—just like I did when I beheld him the first time, when he won an axe throwing competition and then flared his wings with more gusto than Cassian would,” Rosamunde began to laugh and then Elain joined. But then, her brow furrowed and she asked,

“Wait—Finrod doesn’t have wings!”

“I have wings!” yelled Nat, as she entered the house, and Rosamunde called after her and Riad to go and dry themselves and change.

Surely Elain wasn’t losing her mind. None of the family had wings. Her expression must have been so apparent that Rosamunde chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder, “We do,”

“But…what?”

“Do you know how Rhys can summon his at will? As does Lady Feyre?”

Elain nodded, so confused she felt like she was in some kind of out-of-body experience.

“That’s because Rhys has Hewn City blood. From his father. His mother was fully Illyrian. Us—we are the opposite. I am of Hewn City stock, but Azriel’s…father…” she grimaced, “was Illyrian. So Azriel has permanent wings. We—my children, and Finrod—can summon them at will. I don’t use them much, though they could be useful. Mine are mostly vestigial—I can hardly fly and,” her beautiful face darkened with sorrow, “and…”

Elain squeezed her hand in support and acknowledgement.

“I couldn’t save my baby,” Rosamunde choked, tears filling her eyes, “I couldn’t save Az…They probably would’ve caught me anyway, but I might have had a chance…But, but,” she sobbed and stopped, burying her face in her hands, “I couldn’t…I can’t fly. I couldn’t save him…I couldn’t save my boy…”

“Mam, ma,” Ellena babbled, seeing her mother in distress, and Elain brough her arms around the two of them, kissing both of them, the three of them crying together. For a little boy who couldn’t have a childhood and couldn’t be saved.

…The rest of the day wasn’t as eventful. They had lunch, with Nataliya demonstrating how to summon her wings and ripping her dress in the process, which caused a flood of tears, and laughter from Riad, and then Nataliya smacking her brother in retribution, and him scowling and pouting for the rest of the meal.

“You two are clearing the table,” ordered Rosamunde, and Elain had to hide her smile at their indignation.

“Az mentioned that he works with wood and that you have some pieces that he’d made,” she remembered. “Do you mind showing them to me?”

“Of course! Come,” they grabbed Ellena, who wouldn’t let go of Elain anyway, and walked through the house, with Rosamunde pointing out beautiful pieces of carved wooden furniture and decorative pieces.

“After Az was sent to the camp,” she recalled, “they allowed him to apprentice with the carpenter there…Because of his hands and his inability to fly, the Commanders didn’t think he’d be useful, and would ever be able to fight. So they figured that he should learn some kind of trade, if he didn’t make it as a shadowsinger for the High Lord, and it also allowed him to work with his hands and fingers, because he still had trouble with them even after 3-4 years after…” her voice faded and she didn’t finish her thought.

Elain ran her fingers along a beautifully carved mirror frame and murmured, “he is truly talented…”

He mother nodded. Then said, “I think he might carve something for you soon…”

“What?”

“Something for the house, I am sure.”

Azriel landed in the front lawn of his estate.

It was a large, rambling cottage that became available after the war—the family that lived there moved to a smaller place and the house sat unoccupied for a year. Azriel’s been eyeing it ever since it became vacant, but he didn’t need a place that big for himself and back then, he didn’t think that he ever stood a chance with Elain.

Asterin and Sorrel were lounging on the grass, lazily chewing on Elain’s roses, pretending to smell them. At seeing Azriel they immediately shifted, feigning innocence and acting like they weren’t gnashing on the bulbs just now. He shook his finger at them and they turned away, ignoring him.

He was forever thankful that unlike Hewn City, the cottage, while large, couldn’t contain two enormous, fanged beasts. So, they stayed outside. He reckoned that everything fell into place when Elain entered his life, including the location of this house—far away from everyone, secluded in brambles and weeping willows, it was just outside of Velaris, with stunning views all around—the city on one side, and the sea on the other. His presence made people nervous enough, even back when he was just a shadowsinger and spymaster of the High Lord, and an Illyrian with seven siphons. Now, as Lord of Hewn City, with a Cauldron-made betrothed, two fanged beasts in tow, and Bryaxis who loved visiting as well, having befriended Elain a while back (since two monsters as friends weren’t enough), Azriel did not make for a desirable neighbour. Thankfully, there were no neighbours around. Therefore, if Bryaxis felt like sitting in the garden, wrapped in dark shadow of terror, it didn’t result in a pile of bodies who died of pure fear.

“My love, are you home?” he called out, shucking off his jacket and weapons, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“I am here!” Elain’s voice sang back and instantly his heart gladdened. That voice was like a balm on his soul, sweet and welcoming, and Azriel had to mentally pinch himself to remind himself that this was real. This was his life. This was his home, the one he built with the only woman that he ever truly ever loved and who loved him unconditionally and with an undimming, everlasting passion. His Elain. His Elain who chose him against all odds, and who promised to walk with him side by side, regardless of what befell them in this life. And with her next to him, he felt no fear.

“Holy gods, what are you doing?” he cried, when he entered their vast kitchen and saw Elain balance herself precariously on her toes, on the top step of a stepladder, reaching for something on the top shelf of their pantry. “You couldn’t have waited for me?!”

She laughed at him, kissing the air in greeting and said, “You are fussier than your mom!”

“What are you doing?” he came closer, and crossed his arms on his chest.

“She gave me so much food, I am trying to arrange it all,” Elain giggled, “I think she thinks that we are starving.”

He snorted a laugh.

“I felt bad for Sorrel who had to haul all these baskets on her back,”

“I imagine that Sorrel managed just fine.”

He came closer and playfully pecked her bottom through her gauzy skirt, and she squirmed with enjoyment.

“My Lord Azriel!” she admonished him playfully.

“Lady Elain,” he slapped her buttock lightly and said, “get off that stool and give me a kiss! What smells so good?”

“Dinner!”

He went to the cupboard and started pulling out plates and wine glasses and setting the table.

“Six jars of pickles! Three jars of jam,” she was counting out loud, “Three jars of marinated peppers. Six baskets of dried mushrooms…Azriel, if I see you tucking into those blackberry tarts before dinner, I swear,”

In the next moment, she was swept off her feet and into a pair of strong arms, his mouth descending on hers in a savage kiss. She screeched and laughed, clutching at his shoulders, before softening against him and draping her arms around his neck. Her lips opened in invitation and he swept his tongue inside, gently overpowering her with his kiss.

“I love you,” she moaned into his mouth, running her hands through his hair.

“I’d like to hear the rest of your threat,” he invited with a chuckle, “about the blackberry tarts,”

“I’d make love to you,” she whispered into his ear, lightly biting his earlobe, “if you eat a blackberry tart,”

“Then perhaps I should have two?”

“Perhaps…”

“And if I eat a pickle?” he proposed, returning to her lips, placing small, loving kisses on her mouth and her eyes.

“The punishment remains the same,” she breathed.

He breathed in deeply, with satisfaction.

Then stilled, abruptly.

Elain looked at him in surprise when he pulled away from her mouth.

His hazel eyes blazed—blazed like the green forests of Illyria, like the obsidian of Hewn City, like the stars of the Night Court. Those eyes devoured her. His perfect, beautiful face, usually so tanned and golden, paled. She’d never seen him pale.

“Az?”

Confusion and fear were written on her face.

“El,” he sobbed.

He…sobbed.

Azriel’s gorgeous eyes filled with tears, huge and thick, the eyes brimmed with them before spilling onto his face.

“Azriel,” she cried in alarm, cupping his cheek.

“Elain,” he gasped, his voice so choked with emotion, so raspy, she could barely hear him, “my love. Elain. My love,” he kept repeating, as if in shock, as if he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Az, I love you, please, my darling, what is,”

“We are going to have a baby,” he blurted out.

Her eyes widened and his hand instinctively went to her stomach. He lay his heavy scarred palm on her belly, setting her down on the floor, and dropped on his knees before her.

She pressed her hand over his, still disbelieving his words, as they stared at each other, both in some kind of stupor of complete elation and doubt.

“Are you certain?” she begged softly, her eyes pleading with him for confirmation, for this to be true.

“I smell it…it’s so clear,” he inhaled again, and then again, “you and I and someone else in there,”

“Oh, by the Cauldron,” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, “you mother…Oh…”

“What?” he pressed his cheek to her stomach, wrapping his arms around her hips.

“She knew. I think she knew…She commented on our smell,”

“What did she say?”

“That we amalgamated into one scent,”

He chuckled softly, kissing her hands, her stomach, whatever his lips could reach, “We certainly amalgamated. I think it’s a bit more than just a scent though,”

Suddenly it dawned on Elain. It all came crushing at once and she wept, squeezing her face, a smile on her face so wide, it hurt her cheeks.

“We’ve made a baby?” she gasped, “Az, we’ve made a baby.”

“We’ve made a life together,” he murmured, awed. For a male who was so used to taking life, whose very existence was dedicated to war and blood, the thought of creating one, of creating something pure and good along with this female that he loved beyond reason, was simply magical.

“On Calanmai, you think?” she marveled, remembering the Great Rite, and everything that they did that night.

“I am certain,” he nodded.

“Our magical baby,” she grinned through her tears, looking down at him, at her stomach, and their hands, cradling it together.

It was a warm summer day, with the sky of the clearest blue and the sun beating down.

Azriel had worked up a sweat, but he loved it. It was quiet around their house, other than for the chirping birds and the rustling of leaves. Out as far as the eye could see stretched the azure sea—this view was one of the reasons Azriel bought this specific house. It was absolutely glorious and he loved the gleaming amethyst brilliance of the water, the smell of salt and brine in the air. One side of the house overlooked the city skyline, in the back, the towering mountains, and ahead, the vast expanse of the sea. When he was old and gray, he imagined that he’d be sitting out on the terrace, with Elain on his lap, and never tire of the view or of her. Not a Lord, not a spymaster or an Illyrian with too many siphons, but Azriel. He’d never tell her, but he already knew what he’d have written on his tombstone, if he ever had one ‘Here lies Azriel. He loved Elain, who made him happy’.

He looked up from the piece of wood that he was polishing. In their beautiful garden, the whole menagerie of their creatures napped or lounged. Deep in the shadows of the two weeping willows was a smudge of impenetrable darkness—Bryaxis came to look at the sun and smell the flowers. Around it, Azriel’s own shadows fluttered and floated. It was a little too bright for them out here, so they hid alongside Bryaxis, nestled in his darkness. Azriel figured that they could talk with each other, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the topic of their conversation would be. Asterin was cooling off in the pond, while Sorrel was sleeping on the grassy bank, sunning her wings. He supposed that he was also a strange creature, just like them, with his wings, that he was also presently sunning and his unnatural power. Perhaps, only Elain was the normal one amongst them, though probably not.

Elain was crouched in the flower bed, a wide-brimmed hat obscuring her face, even if her thin sleeveless shirt allowed a very generous and tempting glimpse of her unbound breasts under the unbuttoned collar.

“You look like a cat who just drank all the cream,” she noted, without moving her head or looking at him.

“And you are acting like an expert little spy,” he laughed, and walked over to her.

His scarred hand crawled under her hat and he squeezed the back of her neck, massaging gently.

“Mmm, that feels good,” she hummed, leaning into his hand.

Then, with a smirk, she complained, “I am hot.”

He chuckled and stooped over her, his palm migrating from the back of her neck to the front, squeezing her throat lightly and tilting her head back. The hat tumbled on the grass.

“Can I help you remove some of this offending clothing?” he offered, leaning deeper over her, his face ghosting hers in the barest of touches. He whispered and her tongue darted out and licked on his lips quickly.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please…”

He snapped his fingers, without taking his eyes off her and then said, loudly, “Hey! All of you! Find somewhere else to be!”

The monster, the beasts and shadows all made an indignant noise, and attempted to turn around, but Azriel shook his head, “No. No. Go. Leave. Come back later. All of you.”

His shadows flew closer to him, in hopes of being spared, but he flicked his wrist at them.

Elain was laughing.

“You are a terrible host!” she murmured, when he slid on the grass next to her.

“I am a stupendous host,” he countered, stroking her throat, before tilting her head the way he wanted to and placing his lips on the thin, smooth skin. He kissed. Softly. Unhurriedly. Up and down, from her ear to her shoulder, while his deft fingers unbuttoned the few buttons of her shirt.

“Stupendous, huh?”

“Uh-uh,” he breathed against her neck, and parted her blouse, sliding it down her arms and then arranging it so she could lay her head on it. “They lounge on my lawn. They swim in our pond. They eat your flowers. They terrify the neighbors,”

“We don’t have any neighbors,” she reminded him with a chuckle. “You hate people,”

“I don’t hate people,” he corrected, kissing her nose and then her lips, “I care about people. That’s why I don’t have them around, so they don’t die of terror should they come upon Bry or your sweet beasties,”

“You are my sweet beastie,” she whispered, stroking his face.

Azriel smiled, and agreed, “That I am. And, you’ve been very naughty, tempting me with these all morning long,” he cupped her bare breasts, which always fit so well within his palms and rubbed his thumbs over the nipples. Now, a month and a half into her pregnancy, they began to fill out, growing just a bit heavier and fuller almost daily. It fascinated him and, well, he couldn’t deny that it made him quite happy as well.

“You can play with them,” she offered.

“Yeah?” he leaned into her and wrapped his mouth over the nipple, pulling hard and deep, teeth and lips clamping on the sensitive tip. A violent shudder rushed through her, and she tugged on his hair, pushing his face into her soft breast…and if he was going to suffocate now, he’d die a happy male. But she released her hold on his head a bit and he sucked deeply and steadily, while working her out of her skirt. She wiggled out of it and kicked it with her foot, while going for the ties on his trousers, pulling on them impatiently. He laughed over her breast and then looked up at her, “eager, are we?”

Elain flipped him on his back and muttered, panting lightly, “Az, I need you,”

“You have me, love,” he assured her, as he pulled out his cock and stroked it a few times. She looked down, hunger in her beautiful brown eyes, her lower lip between her teeth, body almost shaking with anticipation.

He wrapped his hand over her hips and nudged her forward, murmuring, “come, my baby, take what you need.”

Elain didn’t have to be asked twice. The horrible ache in her core was becoming unbearable and there was only way to soothe it. While Azriel slid his trousers down his legs, finally getting naked beneath her, she straddled him and guided his thick cock inside of her.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, her eyes closing and head lolling to the side, pure, ravenous bliss written all over her face. She sunk on him slowly, for no matter how aroused she was, how wet and ready, his size did not allow for a singular initial thrust. It always had to be a tempered, gradual push, which they both loved, for it only heightened their senses, the anticipation of what was about to happen.

His fingers dug deeply into her thigh probably adding to an existing bruise, but Elain loved carrying his bruises on her body. Beneath her gauzy dresses, or the more daring, risqué outfits that she wore in Hewn City, or her gardening dungarees, or the simple skirts and shirts that she wore at home, her lovely, curvy body bore the marks of Azriel’s love. It was their secret, just like the bargain tattoo that was hidden on her thigh—only for him to know.

The moment he was situated in her, he set an ambitious pace, his hips working almost against his rational inclination, but the way the walls of her sex gripped him with such sublime strength and clenched and pulled him in every time he made a move was so overwhelmingly pleasurable, he stopped, just to gather his thoughts for a moment.

“You take me so well, my girl,” he grunted, “so tight,”

“Az, move,” she pleaded desperately, her palms pressing into his chest, her hips grinding onto him. “Faster…”

He sat up, biting his lower lip, his palm gripping her breast almost painfully, as he squeezed her nipple between his fingers, twisting it harshly. She panted loudly, the bit of pain always being something she craved, something he offered and she chased.

“Anything you want, baby,” he finally calmed himself enough to begin thrusting into her in earnest. Even when she was on top, she liked for him to do most of the work, and he did not object whatsoever. He lay back down, letting his eyes roam over her gorgeously lush body, mesmerized by her bouncing breasts, as they bopped and swayed with every thrust of his hips. He cupped her soft, pert ass and gently spread the cheeks, mashing them in his palms, his fingers pushing occasionally against and around her other little hole, eliciting pleased moans and cries from her parted lips.

“Az, my love, you feel so amazing,” she breathed. “Why does it feel so good?”

“Because you were made for me and I was made for you,” he said simply.

“Yes,” she nodded, “yes,”

His eyes drifted down her body and he buried himself inside of her, thrusting to the hilt and holding still. She moaned loudly, her head rolling back, unbound hair ticking his thighs. He ran his hand over her torso, her throat and her breasts and then paused at her stomach, pressing lightly to her lower belly. He could feel and see the small bump—not that of their baby—but his cock that was so deep, it pushed out from inside of her.

Azriel groaned loudly, wondering if he’s ever been so hard before. He has. But every time it felt new and different, the sense of possession almost indescribable.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the same spot. Her eyes widened with lust mixed with amazement and she rubbed the cock that was pocking her stomach.

“El, fuck,” he swore low and hissing, “fuck it feels nice, baby…” he held her hand right there, and she moved and stroked her stomach. “You are so tiny, I can see myself moving inside of you,”

She grinned, “You like that, bad boy?”

“Yes, my sweet, this boy really, really likes seeing you take my cock!”

Cassian could barely breathe.

He loved Elain, but the flowers…Her garden was gorgeous, a feast for the eyes, a work of art—and torture for his nose and eyes and throat.

Azriel and Elain had been holed up in their luxurious secluded cottage for over a month.

He saw them here and there, they visited once, maybe twice, and then there was the dinner at the River House, which they declined to attend, citing Hewn City business.

“Go check on them!” ordered Nesta.

“Why don’t we go together?” proposed Cassian, but she said, “I don’t want to ambush them. Just…it’s casual if it’s just you.”

So here he was, being casual.

Somehow even Rhys found out that he was going to visit them, and the High Lord ordered him to report on their well-being.

The two wyverns, or whatever they were, flew over the sea, flipping and diving into the water.

Cassian landed in front of the house and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again, harder this time, but was greeted with silence.

It was a nice day, so he figured that the two of them being in the garden was very probable. Elain with her flowers or berry bushes, and Azriel just watching over her like a hungry wolf in love. The male was so obsessively in love, Cassian figured that if he could spend eternity watching Elain garden, Azriel would be perfectly satisfied with his life.

Rounding the corner, Cassian was faced with the most disturbing scene that his 543-year-old eyes had seen—naked Elain, grinding on Azriel…riding his cock.

Oh gods. Oh gods.

His sister. His little sister. That’s who Elain was to him. She was his little petal, his sweet flower girl. Riding Azriel’s enormous cock. How that thing even fit into her was a miracle.

Oh gods. His eyes. He pressed his palms over his face and ran back. He slammed into something, refused to open his eyes, and ran until he was well out on the front law on the house.

Mother’s tits! Why were they outside? He knew why they were, because it was a nice day and it was perfect time for lovemaking, but gods, did Azriel have to do it with her?

Breathing heavily, Cassian shot up in the air. He’d fly around, for a few hours. A few hours should be long enough, right? Maybe a few days?

Yes, theoretically, Cassian knew that Elain and Azriel were lovers. They were betrothed and swore their love and loyalty to each other before a priestess, and one day, planned to perhaps marry, as humans married—Elain’s idea, though she was cooling off to it, no longer concerned about the human rituals and their ways. But they were both reserved people, rarely displaying overt affection towards each other and somehow, it was difficult to imagine them in more intimate situations.

Azriel had scented his brother nearby.

Elain was whimpering atop of him, as he was pounding into her and right then, his brother was of no concern to him. He wanted to bring his girl over the edge, and she was close if the fluttering of the walls of her pussy around his cock were anything to go by. Her breath came out in deep, hoarse sighs and she stretched over him, her hair draping over her breasts and his chest, swooshing and tickling his chest. She squeezed her breast in her hand, rolling her nipple, as she plunged down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Close, sweetheart?” he held her hips tightly, angling her so that her clit ribbed against his pelvis, while kissing her mouth. She nodded breathlessly and fell atop of him, sinking her teeth into his neck and sucking, as she thrashed and moaned into his shoulder, whispering how much she loved him.

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he murmured into her hair.

Azriel was working on an intricate carving in the piece of wood, chiseling slowly and carefully into the plank. He might have planned too complex a design, if he had to admit it, but he had eight months to complete it, so with some perseverance he figured that he’d be done just in time.

“I know you are there,” he said without raising his eyes from his chisel, “stop being weird.”

Cassian stepped in front of him, sniffling and hacking, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

“Were you hiding there long?”

“You know I wasn’t hiding,” Cassian sneezed, “I just flew in.”

“Flew back in,” corrected Azriel, smirking.

“My eyes did not need to see what they saw earlier,” Cassian sat heavily on a bench, shaking his head. “And stop smiling!”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for someone so modest and easily perturbed,”

“Umm, I am not easily perturbed at all,” he interrupted, “unless I see my sister doing all those things with you,”

“Well, she is my betrothed female and my Lady,” Azriel reminded him casually, “so we do ‘do those things’ as you call them,”

“I don’t need to be reminded!”

Elain appeared—thankfully dressed—with a smile on her face, and exclaimed, “Cass! I didn’t hear you come in!”

She skipped towards him and threw herself into his embrace. He swung her around in his arms, and kissed her head.

“I’ve missed you, petal!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

“You look—stunning,” he had to admit, giving her a once over. “Gods…you are glowing!”

She smiled shyly, ducking her head and then playfully slapped his shoulder, murmuring, “such a flatterer,”

Azriel was observing them silently, still carving the wood, though Cassian sensed some tension in his brother. Azriel was never jealous, especially not of him, but just in case, Cassian stepped away from Elain and sat back down on the bench. Azriel reminded him of a newly mated male, and for a moment, he wondered if they had a mate bond snap for them, which would explain their absences and secrecy.

He watched them exchange a quick glance, but a bout of sneezes interrupted his puzzlement at all of this cagey behaviour. Could Elain have been given two bonds? Elain was mysterious, her power still not entirely revealed, her Cauldron-given abilities developing and unraveling bit by bit. Her power matched Azriel’s in many different, intricate ways, most of which Cassian could not understand. Even Rhys had trouble comprehending what the two of them were capable of, and how vast that power reserve actually was.

“Cass, let me get you something for your allergies,” Elain offered. “Do you want lemonade?”

“Don’t fuss Lainey,” he began, but she waved him off. “Lemonade for my brother is not fussing. I have an ointment that will help you,”

She went back into the house and Cassian draped his arms over his knees, looking out at the sea. This was a damn nice view! No wonder they didn’t want to leave. They split their time between their four residences—Hewn City palace, Azriel’s apartment in Velaris, occasionally they used the palace on the mountain, but typically only for formal meetings, but this—this was their home.

“You are quiet,” Cassian noted, glancing at Azriel.

His brother seemed to have relaxed a bit, even his wings snapped not as tightly as before, and he shrugged in his usual Azriel way, saying nothing.

Cassian finally glanced at the wood that Azriel was working on and he nodded towards the fine carvings, “it’s beautiful…what is it?”

Azriel drew his scarred finger over the wood, and after a moment, said, “it’s headboard for a crib.”

“A crib? Really? Who asked you to make a crib?” wondered Cassian, cocking his brow.

Then he stilled, his eyes widening, “Shit?! Rhys and Feyre? Are they having another baby?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel chuckled, amusement in his eyes, “they haven’t told me.”

“Who else?” pondered Cassian. “Don’t be an asshole! Tell me!” he whined.

“Maybe you?” Azriel winked at him.

“What?” Cassian paled, “wha-…Nes,”

“Oh gods, no!” groaned Azriel, laughing, “I am kidding. Can’t you smell anything?”

“I can’t smell shit!” Cassian wiped his nose, “I am all stuffed up. What am I supposed to be smelling?”

“Elain.”

“What about Elain?”

In the next moment, Cassian tackled Azriel in his hug, both of them landing in the grass, a scream of joy ripping from Cassian’s chest.

“Elain?” he cried, tears springing in his eyes, “a baby…a baby for you,” he rocked Azriel against his chest, and for once, Azriel gently, easily embraced him back.

“Az, I…” Cassian, for once, was speechless. ‘”I am so happy…I am so happy for you,”

Azriel grinned, emotional again, his chest heavy and tight with joy.

“Actually, I need to make two cribs,” he said. “Care to help, uncle?”

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #my writing #the heirs of shadow #azriel #elain archeron #elain #azriel and elain #elain and azriel #azriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction prompt #fanfic prompt

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singingaboutwishingx · 4 years

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tww present-day headcanons

okay obviously this is like... if we ignore the offset election years and the mysterious disappearance of the bushes and no 9/11 and that little point in time where santos and obama would have overlapped and the fact that no WAY would the voters have put democrats in the white house for like almost 20 years. anyway, just suspend your disbelief lol

(also quick little disclaimer: i’m still figuring out my feelings about this administration--the real-life one, not the bartlet one. i, as always, don’t mean to glorify/girlbossify/stan politicians, etc. i’m also not trying to bully any members of any generations, simply making statements based on my observations of the world around me).

josh and toby co-wrote a series of op-eds for the washington post that absolutely read 45’s administration for FILTH

congressman will bailey is having absolutely none of marjorie taylor green’s shit. he was throwing verbal hands on any news show that would take him for weeks.

someone made a post about donna being a regular guest on news shows and i don’t remember who it was, but anyway donna shows up on rachel maddow at least once or twice a month

liz divorced doug (that one’s just personally important to me) and is regularly dragging the shit out of ted cruz on twitter because we KNOW she can

charlie and zoey have a youtube channel where they answer questions about politics (both about the political process and current events). they try to keep it as non-partisan and strictly informational as they can.

jed starts a podcast (honestly, how could he not?). every episode is him talking about a different niche topic for 30-60 minutes. liberal gen xers and older millennials think it’s the best thing to ever happen. #unclejed is trending on twitter for a couple days after the first episode

molly and huck have a moderate amount of tiktok clout and they literally ask their parents every single day if they can adopt claudia conway because they are Concerned about her

cj and jenn psaki have a little moment on twitter and huffpost and/or buzzfeed writes an article titled something like “passing the torch: former wh press secretary sends jenn psaki her love on twitter”

there’s a little portion of leftist tiktok teens/twenty-somethings that are like “josh lyman is a war criminal but holy shit he was/is hot”

ABBEY BARTLET-DR. FAUCI TEAMUP!!! there’s an ad that plays absolutely everywhere where they tell you to wear your mask and wash your hands, and they zoom into a few major news shows

less public ellie bartlet-dr. fauci teamup!!! she’s helping with research from home because of her kids and she’s killing it

kate became a foreign affairs correspondent for cnn and there’s this Look she gives the camera (for context, she was talking about how 45’s treasury secretary went to saudi arabia to speak with the crown prince even AFTER he supposedly murdered that journalist) that instantly becomes a reaction gif. there’s at least one tweet or something that’s like “found the female jim halpert on cnn” with her gif and one of his side-by-side

this might be a hot take but i think ainsley voted for clinton (sorry going back a little ways) because she was def supporting, like, john kasich or someone in the primaries, but she can’t fucking stand 45 and thought that someone with absolutely no political experience whatsoever had no damn right to hold the presidency. i mean, listen, she hated clinton, but what else was she supposed to do, not vote? she becomes a very vocal critic and she’s one of the ones that’s like “this isn’t what the republican party stands for”

sam, who was double-masking before it was cool, is just home writing the novel we all know he was meant to write. he’s less involved with politics. there’s a direct correlation between how much news he watches and how high his blood pressure is. he’s compromised with himself by watching rachel maddow every night (mostly in hopes of seeing donna) and nothing else. besides, josh would text him if it was something REALLY important.

#i'm clearing out my drafts in case you couldn't tell lol #bianca spills the tea #the west wing #tww

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otterskin · 4 years

Text

Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’.

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon.

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it. But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there.

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

- a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

#loki #trailer #details #meta #theories #theory #explanation #thor #tva #santa #devil #snorri sturluson whinging #christmas #fire #kaunaz #loki trailer

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the-daily-tizzy · 3 years

Text

WISDOM OF BEN STEIN

Ben Stein is a satirist in the political realm.

These are a few of his observations about our situation.

Some of you will find them humorous and some will be enraged .

I find them sad and accurate

I never dreamed that I would have to face the prospect of not living in the United States of America, at least not the one I have known all my life. I have never wished to live anywhere else. This is my home and I was privileged to be born here. But today I woke up and as I had my morning coffee, I realized that everything is about to change. No matter how I vote, no matter what I say, something evil has invaded our nation, and our lives are never going to be the same. I have been confused by the hostility of family and friends. I look at people I have known all my life--so hate-filled that they agree with opinions they would never express as their own. I think that I may well have entered the Twilight Zone. We have become a nation that has lost its collective mind! You can't justify this insanity:

If a guy pretends to be a woman, you are required to pretend with him.

Somehow it’s un-American for the census to count how many Americans are in America.

Russians influencing our elections are bad, but illegals voting in our elections are good.

It was cool for Joe Biden to "blackmail" the President of Ukraine, but it’s an impeachable offense if Donald Trump inquires about it.

Twenty is too young to drink a beer, but eighteen is old enough to vote.

People who have never owned slaves should pay slavery reparations to people who have never been slaves.

People who have never been to college should pay the debts of college students who took out huge loans for their degrees.

Immigrants with tuberculosis and polio are welcome, but you’d better be able to prove your dog is vaccinated.

Irish doctors and German engineers who want to immigrate to the US must go through a rigorous vetting process, but any illiterate gang-bangers who jump the southern fence are welcome.

$5 billion for border security is too expensive, but $1.5 trillion for “free” health care is not.

If you cheat to get into college you go to prison, but if you cheat to get into the country you go to college for free.

People who say there is no such thing as gender are demanding a female President.

We see other countries going Socialist and collapsing, but it seems like a great plan to us.

Some people are held responsible for things that happened before they were born, and other people are not held responsible for what they are doing right now.

Criminals are caught-and-released to hurt more people, but stopping them is bad because it's a violation of THEIR rights.

And pointing out all this hypocrisy somehow makes us "racists"?!

Nothing makes sense anymore - no values, no morals, and no civility.

People are dying of a Chinese virus, but it's racist to refer to it as Chinese even though it began in China.

We are clearly living in an upside down world where right is wrong and wrong is right, where moral is immoral and immoral is moral, where good is evil and evil is good, where killing murderers is wrong but killing unborn babies is AOK!

Wake up America, the great unsinkable ship Titanic America has hit an iceberg, is taking on water, and is sinking fast.

Speak up!

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alloftheimaginesblog · 4 years

Text

You’re Safe Now (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Plot: Bellamy ventures into Mount Weather to save his friends and the girl he loves.

Character: Bellamy Blake x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, violence. Takes place Season 2 episode 11 and onwards though changes events to suit (I’m re-watching The 100 bc I stopped at Season 4 the first time I watched it so I’m in a Bellamy mood!)

When Bellamy goes into Mount Weather, nothing could’ve prepared him for the horrors that lay ahead. Lincoln could only prepare him for the start of the journey but not the cages, not the blood transfusions, not the bone marrow torture; not any of it.

Thank god that Maya was on their side. He wouldn’t have escaped his cage without her help. He searches the cages before he leaves, it’s just Grounders in them. Bellamy demands Maya to list the names of those who are here that are his friends. He cuts her short when she says your name fifth.

“I don’t know where they keep your friends,” Maya says quietly, “I’ve checked all of these cages, over and over. They’re keeping them somewhere else.”

“Why?” Bellamy’s tone is angrier than he intended, “Where is (y/n)?”

“We haven’t seen her in four days,” Maya tells him, “Monty and Harper are missing too.” Anger surges through him burning red hot in his veins. He clenches his fists and breathes hard as he glares at the cages surrounding him. He just needs you to be okay. He needs to save you. He cannot lose you.

“Why have they separated us from the Grounders?” He asks through clenched teeth.

“There was a breach and I got caught in it, they did it on purpose because they knew that Jasper would volunteer his blood to save me. The blood of your people, the Sky People, works ten times better than that of the Grounders. They figured out that bone marrow from you allows us to walk on the ground.”

It’s a harsh realisation that hits him in the stomach causing him to take a sharp intake of breath, “They’re experimenting on us,” Bellamy realises, voice nothing more than a whisper, “They’re killing us to save themselves.” He turns to Maya who looks terrified, “We have to hurry.”

His footsteps are heavy as they go through the corridors. Maya’s a nervous wreck beside him and he knows it but he doesn’t care. He needs to find his friends, he needs to find you. Maya tells him in a hushed whisper all that she knows about the transfusions and about his friends and tells him that they need Grounder blood but more importantly Sky People blood in order to live on the ground. Bellamy was going to kill them. He was going to kill every single one of them who hurt you. He almost can’t think straight, the anger is almost too much for him to cope with.

Maya grabs his arm, she notices that he’s almost tipping himself over the edge, “We’ll get your friends out of here.” She looks sad, he notices as he allows himself to breathe deeply and calm down. She’s worried about her fate, he realises. She’s helping them escape but she can’t come with them... what will happen to her? He pushes that out of his mind, not wanting to think about it before nodding and carrying on. She glances at him out of the corner of his eye hoping that he knows what he’s doing to pull this off.

The light burns your eyes as they flash the torch on your face, “This one will have to do,” the doctor, Doctor Tsing, says.

“Looks weak,” Cage Wallace, the new President of Mount Weather, comments.

“She’ll have to do for now, your father released the others but soon we’ll have the rest of the 47 to choose from.”

“She’ll die?” Cage studies your face as you glare at him, Tsing nods and Cage shrugs, “So be it.”

Rough hands of the guards drag you out of the cage, pulling you legs first. You’re almost too weak to fight back but you try. It’s a weak attempt, one that fails very easily, as you try and kick at the guards. Your foot collides with the chin of one but the other grabs your ankles and shoves you to the ground. Your body hits the cold floor as the guards grab you and force you upwards.

Cage’s lips twist into a cruel smile as you’re brought to your feet, “I’m surprised you’ve got any fight left in you.” Your weakness didn’t stop you from being angry. They were hurting your friends, they were going to kill them after they killed you.

“Go to hell.” Your voice is a hoarse croak.

Cage grins, “Oh no, we’re going someplace better... We’re going to the ground.” He nods to the guards and they shove you forwards, towards the patient bed in the centre of the room.

You struggle feebly but the guards are too strong. They force you to lie on the bed and they strap you in, strapping you in so tightly that it even hurts to breathe. Cage and Tsing talk in the corner, you can hear them but you don’t listen. You try to control your breathing as you stare up at the concrete ceiling. Death looms over you and you know it as you clench your jaw and your fists. There’s nothing to be done now, you’re trapped and you’ll be dead in a few minutes. They knew it too, they’d taken too much from you in such a short space of time, you’d die within minutes of the procedure. They were taking your bone marrow, apparently it allowed them to walk on the ground without taking damage for the radiation. You’d tried to tell them before how the ground wasn’t that special but that was a lie. How you yearned to touch the grass, feel cool water on your skin, feel the breeze through your hair one last time... how you yearned to feel his touch one last time.

You hear the drill as they test it out and squeeze your eyes shut. Forcing yourself to drone it all out, you begin to think of your friends. You were hoping that by now they’d managed to come up with a plan to escape, even if it meant leaving you. You think of Jasper and Monty and Miller and Harper... and it isn’t long before Bellamy Blake comes into your head.

Oh, Bellamy.

Tears want to desperately fall from your eyes, burning and nipping, but you keep them shut and force yourself to stop. You wish that you could see him one last time, tell him how you truly feel. You’ve imagined that moment over and over again in your head over the last few weeks. He already knows, you know that, but he needs to hear it. You need him to hear it. The last two months, you’d spent the majority of them curled up with him, making love under the stars, talking quietly in the dark, sharing secrets you’d never told anyone... You’d spent the last two months falling in love with him so hard.

The sound of the drill began to get closer to you. This was it. You open your eyes, letting the tears fall, as you stare at the ceiling imagining space. You try so hard to picture the view from the windows, the glow of the stars, the colours...

“May we meet again,” you whisper before the drill makes contact with your skin and you begin to scream.

It’s a bloodcurdling, horrid scream that he hears and he immediately knows that it’s you. The vents are tight but he can make it but he has to move fast. Bellamy’s heart is racing, hearing your screams and the voices grow louder. He feels sick as he hears them torture you, he wants to kill them for harming you; he wants to kill them all.

“Her pulse is getting weaker, she’s dying.”

Bellamy Blake is scared as he wills himself to move faster. He sees the grate of the vent up ahead, he’s so close. Your screams fade to nothing and he clenches his jaw. Only a few more feet. He sees you through the grate and bile rises in his throat. He can’t. He can’t look at you. He refuses to look at you because he’d really lose it then.

“We’re losing her.”

“Like hell you are,” Bellamy grunts as he blasts the grate open and throws himself out into the room. The element of surprise allows him to shoot the two guards with quick ease but his gun jams when he goes to blast Cage’s head off.

They begin to fight as Tsing keeps working to extract the last of your bone marrow. Your head lulls to the side, eyes struggling to stay open as you sway on the edge of unconsciousness. You can’t figure out what’s happening as all you can focus on is trying to fight to stay awake. There’s no pain anymore, in fact, you feel numb all over. It’s cold... it’s death, you realise.

Bellamy manages to slam the butt of his gun into the side of Cage’s head, knocking him to the floor. He wasn’t dead but for now, unconscious was good enough. He had to be fast. He moves to Tsing next, unable to look at you, as she takes the syringe out of your hip.

“Let her go,” Bellamy warns her, secretly reaching his arm behind his back to find the knife in the waistband of his pants.

“I take it this one’s special to you,” she smiles sadistically, “It had to be done.”

She turns away from Bellamy, reaching for the gun on the table but Bellamy’s faster. He’s already plunged the knife into her shoulder before she can grab it. Your vision’s clouding over, unable to do anything or see anything. Bellamy needs to get you out now.

Tsing yells out, grabbing the gun and aiming for him but Bellamy has the upper hand. She’s wounded which makes her sloppy so he easily overpowers her and takes the gun before shooting. The gunshot makes your ears ring, making you gasp a deep breath of air. It pulls you back to consciousness for a couple of seconds as Bellamy pockets the gun and the knife once more before rushing to you.

You barely feel his hands as he presses down on your hip to stop the bleeding, covering it with something and he checks you over. His face comes into your line of vision as he pulls you up, drapes something around you to hide your body from others, and lifts you up. He looks down at you, talking but you’re slipping away from him. It’s almost like you’re underwater, you know he’s talking but you can’t tell what the words are.

As darkness seeps into you vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his eyes and whisper a tiny, “Bellamy...” before falling deep into the darkness.

The sounds of muffled voices talking, no wait, shouting is what woke you up. Your eyes fluttered open groggily as you tried to move but the pain was too much. Every part of your body ached, it felt like you’d been trampled on by one hundred horses.

“It’s been thirty eight hours!” You knew that voice. Who was that?

“She’ll come round when she’s ready.” You knew that voice too.

“I just need to know she’s okay.”

“Bellamy-”

Bellamy.

You groan softly, stopping whoever it was from talking, “She’s waking up!”

Someone rushed to you, you knew it was Bellamy from his scent - gunpowder and pine, “Bellamy,” you whisper, opening your eyes. It took a moment before they adjusted and you could see his face clearly, “Bellamy.” You want to so desperately cry and he knows that.

“You’re okay, you’re safe now.” His hands caress your cheeks, “Here,” he whispers, grabbing a cup from the table and helping you drink it, “It’s water, drink.” You drink it all quickly, water had never felt so good. He fills another and you finish it, too.

“Let me check her over,” it’s Abby, you realise. She walks to you, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

Bellamy chuckles from beside you. He holds your hand as Abby checks you over. She checks your pulse, your heart, your pupils and your pain levels. She explains that you’d lost a lot of blood and a lot of fluids and that it’ll take a few days for you to feel better again, “It was touch and go for a day,” she says, “but we managed to get you stable last night.”

“What- What happened?” You look to Bellamy who glances at Abby, “How long have I been out?”

“Thirty eight hours, your body had a lot of trauma, it needed time to heal and recover... I’ll give you a while to talk,” she says before leaving the tent.

“I’ve been out for over two days?” Bellamy smiles before you look around, realising you’re back at camp, and ask, “We’re safe? I was... They were...” You look down, “They were killing me.”

Bellamy takes your hands, forcing you to look at him, “I got you out, you remember?” You nod slowly, trying to piece together the hazy details, “I got you out. You were so close to dying.” His voice was tight, like he was just barely holding it together, “I managed to get you out of the mountain in time. Abby treated you in camp while I dealt with the mountain.”

“Dealt with?”

Bellamy looks down, “There was no other way. They were going to kill us all.” He tells you what he and Clarke did, how they had to irradiate the mountain, killing every single person who wasn’t Grounder or Sky Person, “It was the only way. We had to kill hundreds of innocent people.”

You swallow, digesting the information, he looks up at you and you give him a small smile, “You’re forgiven.” It’s what he needs. He needs that forgiveness, he needs your forgiveness. He helped slaughter a bunch of innocent people and he’ll carry that guilt forever but you make it a little easier.

Abby comes back a minute later, requesting that Bellamy go help with a situation at the gate. He looks to you and you nod, “I’ll be okay.” He leaves reluctantly.

Abby gets you something to eat and replenishes your water as she helps you sit up, “You’ll start to feel better soon.”

After devouring the soup and crackers, you ask, “Where’s Clarke?” It’s a touchy subject and as soon as you ask it, you want to take it back. Abby clears her throat and looks to her hands.

It’s a minute before she talks again, “She’s- She left. She’s gone.” You want to ask why but it’s a fresh wound so you stop yourself from saying anything else about it. She helps you to lay back down, “I’ll be back in a while to check on you. Do you need anything else?”

“Bellamy,” you say quietly, “I just need Bellamy.”

You didn’t mean to fall asleep and you didn’t realise you’d fallen asleep until you woke up. Bellamy is in the chair next to your bed, reading something. You roll over and he looks at you as a smile grows on his face, “Hey, sleepy head.” Octavia had known weeks before he did, she would constantly tease him about you... how right she was when she said he loved you. He did love you, he does love you.

“How long?”

“Three hours.” He leans forwards, “You must’ve been exhausted.”

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Three hours.”

You feel your cheeks burning, “You waited that whole time?”

Bellamy smiles at you, “I waited here thirty eight hours for you to wake up, what’s three more?” He helps you to sit up, “I needed to know that you were okay.” He scoots his chair closer to the edge of the bed, you’re only inches apart from.

You reached for him, he caught your hands easily and let you tug him to sit on the bed beside you, “I was so scared,” you tell him quietly, “I thought I was going to die.”

Bellamy could tell that you were close to crying so he gently cradled you to his chest, shushing you and telling you that you were okay. He wasn’t sure of the full extent of your torture there but he knew it was horrible. It angered him that you and so many of his friends went through that and some even died but they’d gotten you out safe. He had saved you.

“Clarke’s gone,” he murmurs, “She couldn’t deal with having to face everyone when they know that we killed all those innocent people. She did it to save us all, I did it save us all. I don’t know where she is; she doesn’t want to be found.”

“How are you?” You ask him, pulling away so that you can look at him but still holding onto him, “How are you coping?” It wasn’t just Clarke’s hand on that lever, Bellamy helped kill them too.

He could never lie to you. He shrugs, “Not slept, I’ve been staying at your side so I’ve not really faced anyone. I’ve been too worried about you to care about what the others think, honestly but... Jasper’s a mess, Monty says that he’s just been drinking non-stop.”

“Maya,” you realise. Bellamy’s head falls, “Jasper will be okay. We all will be.” You hope that’s true.

Silence falls for a minute before you say his name, “Thank you... for saving me.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, the slightest smile on his face, “Haven’t you realised that I will always look out for you? I will always protect you.” He’s serious, he would do anything to protect you and keep you safe even if it meant getting himself killed, “You don’t realise how badly I need you to be okay.” It’s a confession that shocks you but he keeps going, needing you to hear it; needing you to believe him, “I heard you screaming when they were torturing you and it broke my heart. The whole time I was in there, my priority was you and that’s selfish that I wanted to save you first than all of our friends as well but I need you to always be safe.”

“Bell...”

“I know,” he pulls away, thinking that you’re rejecting him, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You grab his wrist, “When I was lying there, waiting to die, do you know what I thought of? I thought of you, Bellamy. I thought of all the things I wanted to say to you if I survived, I thought of all those nights we had together, I thought of your smile, your messy hair in the mornings, the way you moan my name... I thought of what I need to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” His voice shakes. He knows, he knows exactly what you needed to tell him but he he wants to hear you say it; he needs to hear you say it.

“I love you,” you whisper as he edges closer to you, “I am in love with you, Bellamy.”

It’s rare for Bellamy to be so open but with you, it’s always been different. He can’t stop the smile that spreads on his face. He can’t help his racing heart and the butterflies in his stomach. He feels stupid but he’s happy. For the first time in a long time, he’s happy, “I love you.”

He kisses you. It’s not like all those other times when you were rushing to take the others clothes off. It’s soft and delicate and he’s savouring every single second of this new type of intimacy. His hands cup your face as you grab onto his shirt to pull him closer. Bellamy is the one person who sends you into a flurry of emotions; your weakness.

Far too soon, he pulls away. Smiling, you press your forehead against his, closing your eyes and enjoying the happy moment together; it wasn’t often a happy moment came along. You stay like that for a long time, breathing and just enjoying the love before he clears his throat, “You should rest.” He goes to move away, unsure now of what to do.

Once more, you grab him but this time you scoot to the left and open the blanket up for him, “You should rest.”

“I need to be on watch-”

“Bellamy,” you say, “You’ve not slept in days, you’re exhausted. Come to bed.” He relents, kicking off his boots and throwing his jacket into the chair at the side of the bed. He crawls in beside you, the warmth of your body soothing his aching muscles.

He lies on his side, arm draped over your body as he presses his lips to your temple, “Thank you,” he whispers, already feeling sleep take over, “for loving me.” You’re taken aback by it but you slide closer to him, pulling his arm over you tighter.

The light snores signalled that he was already asleep. You smile, closing your eyes, “I love you, Bellamy Blake. You’re safe now.” It’s only minutes later when you fall asleep in his warm embrace.

#one shot #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #reader insert #the 100 #the 100 one shot #os #prompt #long prompt #written prompt #the hundred #bellamy blake one shot #bellamy blake imagine

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putas-in-suffering · 4 years

Text

Mermaid

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, rough sex (slapping/manhandling), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, female ejaculation, some non-con elements, degradation (name calling), Dark/Dom Miguel, think Miguel and Emily’s fucked up vibe in that one scene...you know the one 😏

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Part 2. Miguel finds out about your tryst with Bishop and things take a dangerous turn.

A/N: Sucias! We got a present for you! We got Part 2 for our previously published Bishop fic Terms of Endearment. Check it out because it does tie in with this one. Also, it has Bishop smut. This has our Cartel Daddy hella mad and hella ready to destroy the pussy. Prepare yourselves because Miguel ain’t about to take it easy on you. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

*Read Part 3 here!

(Gif credit to @angels-reyes)

You flinched again when Miguel slammed his drink down, the sound angry and stern. He’d been in a bad mood since the moment you’d arrived nearly an hour ago. He’d called you earlier today and requested your presence at his home. He said he wanted to talk something over and insisted on having dinner prepared. You’d hesitated, flashes of letting Bishop Losa fuck you in a storage closet racing through your head. You could tell something was weighing heavy on Miguel’s mind, but you’d let it go and acquiesced to meeting him. Before Miguel was your employer, he was your best friend. And as much as you wanted to call it a night, you went anyway.

After the factory, you’d made more rounds, overseeing the operation and reporting back to Miguel via text. Once you’d gotten the stoic invitation for dinner, you’d raced home and showered the Mayans MC president off your skin. You ignored the pull to relive those memories as your fingers grazed your body, halting on the areas that Bishop had gripped so fiercely. There weren’t any visible markings, but you didn’t need to see it to know it had been there. You could still feel it.

You’d redressed for your impromptu dinner in a silk golden dress. The sleeves were long, the waist cinched, the skirt flowing over your hips and stopping around your ankles. There was a slit down the side, breaking up what would be a normally stylish conservative dress. You had yet to wear it. It was a gift from Miguel for your birthday a few months ago. You weren’t sure why you suddenly felt the need to wear it, but you’d be lying if you said guilt had no part in it. What you’d done was reckless and irresponsible, and if Miguel found out…well guilt would be the last thing you’d feel.

Another harsh clang of silverware pulled you from your thoughts. You winced as Miguel took a forceful bite of his steak, chewing with all the intensity of a caged pit bull. Beyond pleasantries, you hadn’t spoken to each other. The air was obviously tense, the mood uncomfortable. Miguel had purposefully made it that way. And you weren’t sure why.

“You look beautiful.”

The words made you pause mid-chew. Your eyes found Miguel’s staring back at you, his gaze somewhat softened but no less intense. He cleared his throat as he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, sipping from the amber liquid in his crystal glass.

“Uh, thank you.” You replied dumbly, still caught off guard by his choice in topic.

“The dress I bought you?”

You nodded, watching as he lent back in his seat to appraise you. You shifted awkwardly, feeling something simmering just beneath the surface. The house was empty, the staff dismissed for the night. The space was dimly lit. The reflection of the pool just beyond the glass doors was the only light outside. It should’ve been relaxing, romantic even, but the rigidity of the night was fast bleeding out and all over the white linen cloth that adorned the table.

“I have quite an eye. Fits you perfectly.” He continued on, swishing the whiskey in his glass.

“You do.”

“Why now?” He questioned, brow arched in your direction.

You straightened, the food on your plate long forgotten as you reached for your own glass. You swallowed the bitter liquid, the burn doing little to ease your frayed nerves. You weren’t afraid of Miguel, but you were afraid of the things he could do. You’d seen him at his worst and while you never expected to feel that kind of wrath directed at you, you couldn’t say it was impossible. You’d obviously done something to upset him. And you had an inkling of what that might be.

“Just felt right. Thought you’d like to see it.” You replied with a smile, hoping to convince both him and yourself.

Miguel returned the tight smile with his own, nodding as he adjusted the gold cuff links on his left wrist.

“I’ve known you a long time. Verdad?” He asked, the tone letting you know that it wasn’t a question that really needed an answer.

You did anyway.

“Yes.”

“And just like I’m sure you know me, I know you.”

Again it wasn’t something that needed verification, but you nodded in confirmation.

“I’ve let you run things on your own. I’ve let you manage without my supervision. I’ve entrusted you with delicate matters.”

Your breathing began to escalate with every word he spoke. He was calm, his demeanor almost peaceful as he met your eyes. His lips were quirked into a smirk, but you could see the hard ridge of his jaw beneath the well-groomed facial hair. He was clenching the muscle. And you knew from experience what that meant. He was actively trying to contain himself. Your gaze quickly shifted to his fingers, seeing that he was circling them on the tablecloth. Miguel had tells like everyone else and they were beaming in neon back at you. He was mad, no…livid.

“Miguel, what’s this about?” You dared to ask. You didn’t want to play this game with him. You’d seen it enacted out on many before you, none of it ever ending well for the person opposite Miguel Galindo. But you weren’t just some lowlife. You were his friend, practically his family. How dare he treat you like a traitor? You’d given your life to his business…to him.

“I’m not stupid, sirenita.” He bit back, intentionally using your childhood nickname. He usually said it with affection, but such was not the case this time. He was mocking the title, mocking you.

“And you think I am?” You retorted angrily, done playing nice.

“You must be to have let a man like Bishop Losa fuck you in my factory.” Miguel seethed, leaning across the table so that you could see the veins of his neck protruding from the crisp white collar of his shirt.

You’d been expecting the words, but shock seized you nonetheless. Having Miguel confront you about your sexual exploits made you feel childish and small. He glared at you with such disappointment that you could practically taste the sour flavor in your mouth.

“You must be fucking stupid to forget that I have every inch of that place bugged and under video surveillance. Even the storage closets.”

As much as you tried to fight it, you looked down in shame. He was right. You were stupid. In that moment you’d let lust fuel your decisions. But that didn’t mean that he got to disrespect you and treat you like a common whore. You’d seen plenty of his men come through the ranks and fuck on the job. And while it was a problem, it was also mostly laughed off. Men will be men bullshit. Fuck that.

“Who I fuck is none of your business.”

Miguel laughed, though it was obvious he found no humor in the situation. He scratched at his chin, his eyes darting everywhere except to you.

“You think that’s what this is about?”

“I know it is.” You said as you jutted your chin, no longer allowing him to reprimand you like some teenager.

He startled you by rising from his chair, slowly walking to you with measured steps. He said nothing at first as he perched on the edge of the table beside you, looking down at you. Just how he wanted it. He reached for you chin, but you jerked away. He wasn’t deterred. He repeated the action and this time you let him.

“You let him defile you. Let him make a mockery of me while you laughed. Your loyalty is now in question.” He whispered. His touch was gentle, but his words cut like a knife. And they stung.

You jerked out of his grip, eyes wide with disbelief. Miguel had never talked to you in such a way. He’d never treated you so viciously. He’d always respected you. Always looked out for you. He took care of you, making sure you always had what you needed. He never once made you feel as low as you did in that moment. He may not get his hands dirty anymore, but he didn’t need to. His words were his weapons. They always had been. You’d just never been the one to take the hit before.

“You can’t be serious?” You asked, shaking your head.

He said nothing. The flames of fury began to rage hotter within you as he stared down his nose at you, looking at you in a way that he’d never done before.

“Fuck you.” You gritted out, narrowing your eyes up at him.

His lips lifted into a smirk, his eyes shifting to the neck of your dress. You shivered, feeling his gaze on your cleavage. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to make you react in an unexpected way. Your body felt warm with something other than anger. Your nipples hardened against the dainty fabric of your dress, not a gust of cool air to be found.

“You don’t think what you did was damaging to me? To this operation?” Miguel questioned, the irritation back in his words.

“So because I get fucked, your entire business is at stake? Is that what you’re telling me Miguel? Because it sounds like horseshit.” You stood from your chair and hovered in his face, smelling the alcohol on both of your breaths. “You’re mad because I let Bishop Losa fuck me and not you. This has nothing to do with business. You’re jealous.”

The air was sucked out of the room the moment the words left your mouth. You could see the minute they penetrated Miguel’s armor, see the deep rage making its way to the surface. He was tense and stiff, his eyes unrelenting and unforgiving as they stared straight through you.

You’d crossed a line, yet again. But you weren’t going to back down. You’d never been one to do so and you weren’t going to start now.

“Admit that to yourself, Miguel. Admit that’s what this is about.”

Silence.

He only continued to stare with that same void expression, looking as if he wanted to strangle you. His hands flexed as if testing the idea. You shivered again, though it was far from fear you were experiencing.

“I didn’t think so.” You taunted, a victorious smile making its way to your painted lips. You turned to leave, done with the conversation and your employer. If he wanted to act like a juvenile, then you’d treat him like one.

You made it two steps before a heavy hand gripped your elbow. You yelped at the force of the hold and the momentum used to spin you around. You nearly lost your footing, your heels making it difficult to balance. A pair of arms braced you, but they weren’t about to offer you comfort. They tightened around your midsection as they hauled you against the wall. Your head slammed with a brutal thud and you winced at the pain that radiated from your skull.

“Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting Miguel’s cold, murderous orbs. His fingertips dug into your upper arms while his chest heaved against yours with raggedy breaths. You matched his breathing, the fear most definitely taking hold now.

“You’ve forgotten who you work for…who owns you. I make the rules. I tell you when and where. I make you who you are. Me entiendes?” He didn’t wait for a response. “If I had known you’d rather whore yourself out I would’ve had you on your knees years ago.”

The slap echoed throughout the empty house. Your palm stung, the force of your strike still radiating through your arm. Miguel’s cheek was red, but he showed no other visible sign of being struck. His grip was still iron-clad on you, his breathing still rapid and manic.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snarled as you pushed against his chest, attempting to escape his clutches. He didn’t relent. You punched him, hitting him square in the jaw like he’d taught you years before. He released you instantly, cradling his face. You took the chance and ran for the door, but your dress and heels made it difficult to get any sort of real traction. Loud, foreboding footsteps boomed behind you as he caught up. He struck out and made contact with your arm, once again ensnaring you in his hold. You fought back this time, putting up a fight as he struggled to subdue you.

Another slap. Only this time it was you who was clutching their cheek.

“You fucking bastard.”

You charged at him, fists clenched and ready to damage his perfectly etched face. He reacted instantly, reaching for the back of your neck while he held your wrists together in the other. He was close. The both of you breathing in the other’s air. There was barely a sliver of space between your lips as you dared the other to make a move. You could feel the distinct outline of him against your stomach. He was hard. The notion should’ve sickened you. Little did he know, you’d been wet from the moment he’d called you a whore.

“If I wanted you, I could have you. Remember…I own you. Always have.” He declared cockily, eyes roaming your face, searching for any indication that you wanted him to put a stop to this.

You wouldn’t.

“I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you.”

He licked his lips, a dot of blood already pooling to the surface where you’d hit him. The sight satisfied you.

“I feed you. I cloth you. I’ve made you everything that you are, sirenita. A whore playing dress up.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before he locked his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You struggled against him, unwilling to surrender. You slipped against the marble floors as he backed you against one of the columns, pinning your body against his own. His lips attacked you, teeth gnashing and tongue probing for entrance. His beard scratched at your skin and left a sting in its wake. You realized he’d let go of your wrists. Your hands were tangled in his shirt. You’d meant to push him away, but you’d pulled him closer instead. Your nails dug into his pectorals until you were rewarded with a sharp hiss. He bit your lip in retaliation, the taste of iron landing on your tongue.

His hands ripped at your dress, the slit now torn wide to reveal the black lace you wore underneath. The neck of your dress fell open to expose your braless breasts to his assault. He wasted no time in taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth, sucking so hard that you whimpered and jerked away. You tugged at the roots of his thick hair, pulling him from your chest. He was still bent down, his neck craned so that he had to look up at you. You admired the change in position, feeling a rush of desire at the sight of him hungry and dazed for you.

You took the opportunity to switch positions, swinging him around so that he was now trapped between you and the wall. Your hands went to the buckle of his belt and began to release him from the confines of his designer slacks. Your mouth watered as his cock sprang forward. It was thick and heavy; hot and throbbing in time with your pulse. You made sure he kept his eyes on you as you licked your palm, coating it in saliva. He clenched his jaw as he watched you, releasing a strangled moan when you wrapped your hand around him. He began to succumb to you, his body overwrought with the need to release.

“Who’s the whore now?” You provoked, tightening your hand around him. He cursed and thrust his hips in response, but he was far from letting you win.

He grasped your chin, bringing your face so close to his that you could see the outline of his blown wide pupils against the near black of his irises.

“I’m going to fill that mouth so full of cum that you’ll be tasting me for a fucking week.”

You swallowed and clenched your thighs, his words making your walls contract in tantalizing tremors. You wanted that. You wanted all of that and more.

“You can deny it all you want, but I know…I’ve always known. That pussy is mine. It belongs to the Galindo cartel.” His hand wandered down and over your breasts, sweeping under the band of lace that concealed you from view. He found your clit and teased it, encouraging the overflow of your arousal that was sure to come. “And it gets wet at the thought of me fucking you until you can’t walk. Right?”

You bit your lip and gasped as he entered you, massaging the wet heat of your walls with expert precision.

“Answer me.” He demanded, finger sliding further into your depths.

“Fuck you.”

You were working hard to keep the effect of his touch off your face. You remained impassive and cold, but the further he explored, the closer he brought you to that proverbial edge.

“Oh, you will…”

In a flash, you were hauled into his arms and pushed into the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He ripped at your panties with one hand, the ruined fabric falling away from your body to land in a heap on the floor. The lace had rubbed harshly at your skin as he tore it away, but the feeling was eclipsed by the harsh thrust of his cock into your unsuspecting body. The action caught you off guard, pulling a breathless curse from your lips. Your body tightened and twisted around him and his cock, trying to accommodate the intruder.

“I knew you’d be tight.” He confessed into your neck as he began to thrust. His hips met yours in a ruthless pattern, merciless and cruel. You could only hold on as he took from you, pushing so deep that he hit the natural barrier within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You chanted as every line and ridge of his cock grazed beautifully so against your walls. Your spine twisted in both pain and pleasure, lights already dancing behind your lids. You tangled your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp. He shuddered, the sensation traveling through his body and into your own.

He moved a second later, carrying you from the wall to the table you’d both been seated at only moments before. His motions were fast and unhinged, uncaring for you comfort as he slipped from your grasp. You both hissed, but didn’t have a chance to relish the emptiness as he turned you around, arching your ass into position.

“Bend over.”

You practically fell face first into the table as he pushed your head down. Your arms caught you just in time as you spread your legs and welcomed him between them. He shoved your dress up and landed a sharp slap to your right ass cheek, the sting reverberating through your lower half. You flinched and threw him a withering glare over your shoulder. His hands spread you, his cock nestled between your folds as he readied to enter you once again. Your thighs were slick, your walls now primed enough for him to slide uninhibited. He was taking without asking, without remorse, and you ate it up, daring him to give you more.

You moaned at the same time he grunted, his cock now back inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut against the onslaught of euphoria, feeling the web of climax begin to weave itself around you. You pulled at the tablecloth beneath you as Miguel thrust deep, his hips flush with yours as he penetrated your fucking soul. You could feel his eyes burning into you, no doubt taking extreme pleasure in seeing you be such a slut for his cock.

“Are you going to cum?” He ground out, hands still holding your ass apart to watch.

“Yes…”

“Do it now.”

You whined as he began assailing your clit with his finger, rubbing so hard that you felt your eyes cross in your skull. The feeling was foreign, more powerful and unexplored. You shied away from it, unwilling to let go.

“Don’t fight it.” Miguel ordered, feeling your body flinch away. He only went faster and harder, intent on making you come undone.

You had no choice. You gave yourself over to it, letting him pull your orgasm from the depths and send it to the surface. You readied for the inevitable and cried out when your body began to convulse. You were only mildly aware of the gush of liquid that left your body as you were flung into space and launched into a chamber of weightlessness. Miguel’s praises and groans tickled your skin as he bathed himself in your release. He pulled his cock from your depths and let you soak him as he watched in rapt fascination.

“Fuck, just like that…” He said in awe, his cock once again sliding along your folds as your pussy continued to contract against him.

Your face was pressed into the table, your ass still in the air and presented like some kind of prize. You panted with exertion as your limbs became lethargic and sated with the buzz of desire. It felt like an hour had passed, but in reality it’d only been seconds.

You were flipped onto your back, the whiplash making you dizzy. Plates and glasses toppled to the pristine floor as Miguel pried your legs open and resumed fucking you with wild abandon. Your eyes rolled and your toes curled as he fucked you through your post-coitus high. You were moving with every brute thrust, your body shifting up the table. You caressed your breasts as he looked on, growling in approval. His hair was tousled, his lip bleeding with his shirt untucked and pants undone. He’d never looked sexier.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He breathed as he doubled his efforts. He ravaged your body with a new ferocious energy, pulling away when the feeling became too much. He wrapped his hand around himself and pulled at your ankle with the other. “On your knees.”

You nearly slid off the table, your heels barely touching the ground before he was pushing you to kneel. You did as he wanted, meeting his devious stare with a bat of your lashes.

“Open your mouth.”

You complied, sticking out your tongue as he jerked himself off. The head of his cock released streams of thick, white cum seamlessly onto your awaiting tongue. He aimed it perfectly, ensuring it all ended up in your mouth and nowhere else. You could feel it already sliding down your throat as you waited for him to finish.

“Swallow it.”

He held your chin, keeping your mouth closed and running his thumb over your lips. You obeyed and swallowed down every drop, savoring the decadence. He looked down at you with a worshipful eye, an expression that was usually reserved for your professional accomplishments. You relished it, just as you did all the times before.

Miguel tucked himself back into his pants and then reached a hand out to you. You accepted his help and stood, albeit on shaky legs. You clutched the front of your dress together, the thing nearly shredded on your frame. You waited for him to say something, but he only turned and walked to the kitchen counter where his phone sat. He picked it up and walked back to you, his attention focused on the digital screen at his fingertips.

“I know everything that happens within my operation. Sometimes people have to be reminded.” He was back to being calm, not an ounce of irritation left on his handsome features. “I’ve done that with you. And now I’ll do that with Bishop.”

Your blood ran cold when he showed you the screen of his phone. Footage of what just transpired between you two played out, a security timestamp at the bottom of the screen making you aware that this was the real deal. Every moment, every obscene action and insult was captured for anyone to see. Humiliation rushed through you.

“I’m the only one that has access to this. But by tomorrow morning Bishop Losa will receive a clip of this footage. A message that he’s touched what’s mine and to never do so again.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped towards you. You remained unmoving, no energy left to fight with Goliath. He caressed your cheek gently, the patronizing tone now back in his voice.

“This is part of your punishment. Take it like I know you can. Okay?” He prompted. His gentleness was soothing, but a farce. He’d made his point and now you had to fall in line. You were just a solider, taking orders from the commander. And he was reminding you of that.

“Sirenita,” He called, the affection that’d been missing the last time he’d used the name now unmistakable.

You met his eyes. They were back to the mahogany color you’d grown to love. The darkness no longer shrouding him. He cradled your cheek, noting the way you winced when he touched the still tender flesh.

“Say okay.”

“Okay.” You finally replied, defeat coating the word.

“I’ll get this cleaned up tomorrow.” He gestured to the mess behind you, the dining table looking as if a bull raged through. “It’s late. Go upstairs and shower. I’ll be up in a bit.”

You went to refuse, but he stopped you with a kiss. You responded back eagerly, tangling your tongue with his and letting him taste himself. By the time he pulled away, you were both breathing heavily, hearts beating wildly.

“Things are going to be different. You’ll be with me for a while. No more solo missions.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show at his words. You were being demoted. From right hand to whore. You now belonged to Miguel in the one way you said you never would. You’d refused him for so long because you knew the power he held over you…knew the type of life he could give you. It’d be everything you’d wanted and more. Addicting. Luxurious. Lawless. You’d get so lost in him that you’d lose yourself. You knew it. But you’d made a mistake and you had to repent. And you’d do so willingly.

You’d go from whore to housewife in an instant. You’d be his Queen before long…back to running things. Only this time you’d do so with your legs wide and your mouth open. If Miguel wanted a cartel whore, then he’d get one.

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