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raven-dor · 7 months ago

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me and my husband

In which gwayne hightower is overprotective of his pregnant wife, and she begins to worry about the outcome of the birth

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader

WARNINGS: angst, anxiety, rough pregnancy, mentions of blood, arguing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

🎶 : me and my husband - mitski

AN: I read "chose me" by @entitled-fangirl and had to write something similar for gwayne!! this could also be read as part of the come back to me universe, but you do not have to read any other fic to understand the context!!

She watched from the dark hall, her heart fluttering as he leaned back in his chair, exposing his neck and upper chest. Pregnancy awoke a dangerous animal inside her, one that needed her husband near her at all times.

Instead, he sat in his office.

She could not blame him; it was hard work, taking care of Old Town in place of his uncle’s absence. Seeing as his cousin had died recently, Gwayne would stand to inherit the Hightower title, and he all but jumped at the chance to begin his training.

But as of late, it seemed as if she needed him more than he needed her. Mere thoughts seemed to drown out her happiness, every attempt to block them futile. The larger she grew, the closer she got to the inevitable. She cleared her throat, making herself known to her husband.

“Gwayne?” He looked up, smiling brightly.

“My love! You should be in bed.” He stood up, ushering her over to a cushion. She glared, letting him coddle her for now.

“I am not inept.”

“I know, darling.” He knelt in front of her, kissing the back of her hand gently. “But you also know that I cannot help but worry for you.” He caressed her stomach, whispering. “And how is our little one?”

“You have no need to worry, I assure you. The Maesters say the babe is perfectly healthy; there is no cause for concern.”

“And you?” He kissed her hand once more, his tone softer than before. “How do you fare?”

She was taken aback by that question, avoiding a direct answer entirely. “Do not worry about me.”

“That is my job as your husband.” He walked back to his desk, putting out the flickering candle. “And Maesters are not always correct.”

“That is a rather skeptical view.” She grabbed the chair's armrests and pushed herself up. Gwayne glared.

“Please ask for my aid next time you plan on standing.”

“Shall I ask you to help me relieve myself as well?” She glared back. “I love you; you know that I do. But I am not a frail piece of straw. I will not break from a gust of wind.”

“You are carrying the future heir to the Hightower name, my dear.”

Terms like that make her uneasy. That is all she heard all day. ‘Future heir,’ ‘Hightower name,’ ‘a boy.’ All phrases she had heard over a hundred times. She just wanted a moment of peace where she was not reminded how little she mattered in this situation. A tight smile graced her lips, and all humor once held in her tone vanished. “As I am ceaselessly reminded.”

He grabbed her hand, walking slowly out of the office. “All I ask is that you take care. If not for me, then for the sake of our child.”

“I am careful.” She glared. “You know this. It’s not as if I go looking for things to hurt the babe. Do not treat me like a child to be watched over.”

He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “I do not mean to upset you-”

“Well, you have.” She scoffed. “You have somehow managed to insult my care for your future line and my child in one blow. It is astonishing, truly. I applaud you.”

“You know that was not my intention.” He shut their bedroom door, removing his shirt. Y/N tried to keep herself from blushing at the sight, but when he looked like that, it was hard to do. He knelt in front of her, holding both of her hands in his. “I am sorry.”

She hummed, walking away and sitting in front of her vanity. “Yes, well, I suppose I forgive you.”

He grinned. “I am glad of it.”

The woods were peaceful, a nice retreat from the bustling of Old Town. Her velvet green dress dragged behind her as she strolled along the frequently traveled path. She hummed, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the trees swaying.

There was a lake nearby that she desperately wanted to swim in and stare up into the sky of blue. Pushing the tall grass out of her way, the clearing stretched out before her, the lake at the center. She grinned, running down the hill with a newfound joy.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Her smile fell, remembering the whole reason she had even been ‘allowed’ to go on this excursion. He’d only let her go if he came along. She sighed, turning around and walking back up the hill. “Coming, my love.”

The auburn-haired man smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Where did you run off to?”

“The clearing.” She traced shapes on his chest. “I was thinking, perhaps you could join me for a swim. It is the perfect day for it.”

“I woul-”

“My lord.” Their guard’s voice echoed through the forest. Y/N groaned, falling against her husband’s chest. Gwayne kissed the top of her head, smiling sympathetically. “Another time, I swear to you.” She sighed, nodding. A finger hooked under her chin, his eyes serious. “You look far too melancholy, my love.”

“Well, perhaps if-”

“My lord, I’m sorry, but it is most urgent.”

Gwayne sighed, intertwining his hand with hers. “What is it?”

The Maester’s Wing was dim, with just a few candles keeping light. Gwayne had been summoned to settle a squabble between the townfolk, leaving Y/N to visit the old man herself. She tapped her foot against the stone floor, waiting for the Maester to ask her the questions she dreaded.

But those questions never came.

“My lady.”

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Maester Jon, it is wonderful to see you.” She held her stomach. “Tell me, any developments my husband or I should be aware of?”

“Unfortunately, yes, my lady.” He sat down. “It seems, from what we can tell so far, that the birth may result in a breach pregnancy.” Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she felt her breath catch. “A breach pregnancy may result in a choice needing to be made.” He leaned forward, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do you understand what this means, my lady?”

She nodded, standing up quickly. “I do. Thank you, Maester Jon. I shall relay the news to my lord husband.”

She gave one last glance at the dark corner before practically running out of the wing. She burst through the hall doors, dinner in full swing. There sat Gwayne, eyes drooping, visibly exhausted from his duties.

Who was she to worry him anymore?

Y/N sat beside her husband, kissing his cheek. “How was your day, my love?”

“Infinitely better, now that you are here.” He smiled. “How was the visit?”

She took a large sip of her wine. “Well. All is well.” She grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I love you.”

He grinned, squeezing back. “I love you much more, my dear.”

If he chose the babe, she knew she would surely die from heartbreak before she bled out. She laughed, her eyes watering ever so slightly. “I do not think that is possible.”

Since learning of the news, she’d been restless, barely sleeping and often waking before the sun. Its bright rays peeked through the curtains, hitting her skin. The warmth soothed her for a moment, but it was just that, a moment.

The babe kicked harshly, a quiet groan leaving her lips. She stared at the ceiling, thinking that in just a few short weeks, she’d be giving birth in this very bed, staring at the very same ceiling.

It had always been described to her as horrible and painful beyond recognition. And now that she was carrying an heir, which could possibly be breach, she almost wished she could go back to when they first met and stop herself. When she didn’t have to worry about what she did or where she went, she could just be free.

He would be pressured into choosing the child over her; she knew this. Sometimes, when the need for an heir was strong, women had been carelessly cut open, being left for dead. It had been done many times, most notably in her lifetime, by King Viserys. Rhaenyra had told her of his actions: how he’d carelessly cut Aemma open, and her mother bled out on the bed without ever getting to hold her babe.

She looked over at her husband, fast asleep and dead to the world. His hair covered his eyes; his face was shoved into the pillow haphazardly. She giggled; he’d always slept like there was no tomorrow; it was heartwarming, to say the least. She leaned over, pushing the hair out of his face, kissing his forehead gently.

Rolling to her side, she quietly stood, careful not to wake him. Pulling on her deep green robe, she made her way to the dining hall, eager to eat something of actual sustenance.

After learning of the news, she'd picked at her dinner, telling Gwayne it was because the babe made her nauseous.

In a way, it had.

The smell of bacon and eggs flooded her senses, and she rounded the corner, the doors of the hall wide open. Greeting the occasional servant that passed by, she sat down, piling food onto her plate.

“My lord.”

Her attention was drawn to the threshold of the hall, smiling for a moment at the sight of her husband.

He looked angry, stalking toward her, not even acknowledging the man who had greeted him. Odd, he normally slept as long as he could before starting his day. She smiled brightly. “Good morning, my love.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it a good morning?”

“Quite.” She tilted her head. “Why? Is something amiss?”

He nodded, crossing his arms. “I awoke, and my wife was gone. Imagine my surprise.”

She felt horrible leaving him, she could admit. And fighting would only give him more cause to choose the babe over her. “I am sorry if I scared you.”

“You should be. And another-” He stopped, shock adorning his features. “You are sorry?”

“I should have woken you. It was my mistake.” She pat the chair next to her. “Please, join me.”

“I’m afraid I cannot. I have to meet with the steward this morning.”

Her heart clenched. “I can join you if you’d like-”

“It is not necessary. I will only bore you.”

She murmured, reaching out to grab his hand. “You have never bored me.”

“You are kind, but I’m sorry, I cannot be distracted.” He grabbed a plate, placing a biscuit and two pieces of bacon haphazardly.

She scoffed, glaring at her lord husband. “I did not realize I was such a distraction."

"Y/N...."

"Perhaps I should stay in my chambers for the remainder of my pregnancy. To keep you from further distraction.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

She stood, her eyes cold. “I know nothing of the sort.” She looked over his shoulder, beckoning over a servant. “Please move my things into the adjoining room. I will be sleeping there-”

Gwayne sat his plate down, looking at the servant. “Do not move her things.”

“My lady?” The young girl looked frightened, scared of the argument she was caught in the middle of.

Y/N sighed, dismissing the girl. “It is alright.” She walked away, yelling back at her husband. “I shall do it myself.”

“Y/N!” Gwayne yelled, dropping his plate and running after her. “Come back here at once.”

She ignored him, walking faster. The stairs proved to be a challenge, holding the railing tight. Gwayne placed a hand on her back. “Let me-”

She flinched, pushing him back. “Don’t.”

He mumbled. “You may hate me all you want after this.”

“After what-” He hooked his arm under her legs, carrying her up the stairs. “Gwayne Hightower! You let me down right now!”

The top of the stairs was a relief; she practically leaped out of his arms. She walked into their joint chambers, filling her trunk with things she would need. Gwayne sighed, watching from the doorway. “Will you please just-”

“I will leave you to your devices, my lord. I hope your meetings prove well spent.” Dragging the trunk through the door, she slammed it in his face.

That had been three days ago. Other than the meals they shared or meetings both were forced to attend, she had steered clear of her husband. For the better part of the day, he would be in a meeting with the patrons of Old Town, or so she’d heard. Y/N took that as an opportunity, rushing out of the castle’s gates. Squealing, she cut through the tall grass once more, racing down the hill towards the lake. She threw her dress off, her petticoat barely revealing her modesty. Not that anyone would see, this part of the wood was only known by the family.

The water did wonders for her nerves, cooling her skin. Her hair stretched out past her waist, flowing like the tall grass that surrounded this oasis. She floated for what seemed like hours; the babe had not stirred once. She hummed, caressing her bump gently. “It is quite peaceful here, is it not?”

A kick.

Y/N grinned, her eyes tearing up. “Please, try your best to make this an easy birth. It would break my heart not to meet you. If that is the case, don’t worry. Your father’s a good man; he’ll raise you well.”

No kick.

She laughed. “Do not ignore your mother. It’s quite disrespectful.”

A kick.

“I miss him too, my love.”

A voice broke through the silence. “Miss who exactly?”

Y/N jumped, standing in the water. “My lord, I did not expect you-”

“I was in a meeting when a guard informed me you were running out of the castle gates.” His face looked conflicted, but she didn’t want to address the fact that he most likely heard that whole ‘conversation,’ so she remained silent. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

So he had heard.

She smiled, trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.”

“Stop.” Gwayne sighed. “You haven’t called me that since before we were engaged, and I do not wish for you to start again.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Please come out of the lake.”

She walked past his hand to her dress, every attempt to retrieve it proving futile. “Here.” Gwayne knelt down, picking it up off the stump. “What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”

“I would have figured it out, thank you very much.” She glared, pulling the frock over her head. “Do you not have another meeting to attend, my lord?”

“I canceled them.” He laughed, stepping forward. “After I heard my wife was running away from our home, I thought it best to tend to the matter myself.”

“How wise of you.” Y/N crossed her arms.

“Shall we go to bed?”

“I am not tired.” She walked up the hill, leaving him behind. “Have a restful night, my lord.”

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaning against it. She was tired; she hated to admit it. But she wouldn’t have told him that. She walked over to the window, placing the bouquet she picked on the mantle. A reminder of the freedom she once had. A reminder of life before she faced death itself.

A knock rang out. “May I come in?”

She tensed. “If you must.” She faced the window, too scared to face him. If she looked at him, truly looked at him, his eyes bearing into hers, she knew she would begin crying. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

She nodded, walking away from the window and placing her robe in her wardrobe. “Ask it then.”

“Do you still love me?”

Her heart stopped. “I-”

Gwayne stepped forward, wrapping a singular arm around her waist. He drew her in, his scent engulfing her senses. She fought herself not to fall for his spell, but as he leaned his head down, and his breath hitting her neck, she knew she would not last. “If you do not, speak it plainly because I- I cannot go on like this any longer.”

She turned around in his arms, placing her hands on his chest. “I do not believe I could ever stop loving you. Trust me when I say this.” She smiled. “I’m afraid it’s terminal.”

“Ah.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Then what is it that troubles you so?”

“I do not know what you-”

“I beg you, do not finish that sentence.” He tilted her chin up, worry in his eyes. “What ales you, my love?”

“I am simply nervous.” She could not be in his arms any longer. The more she lingered in his embrace, the more compelled she would feel to tell him. “It is nothing, I swear to you.”

He raised his eyebrows, pulling her hands from his chest and kissing them gently. “Please do not lie to me.”

“That night I visited the Maester, he told me something.” He nodded. “He said with the way the pregnancy is progressing, it is possible that the babe will be born breach.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke.

“That’s not all, is it?”

She pushed out of his hold, walking to the other side of the room. “I’m so sorry, Gwayne. Truly, I am. Please forgive me-” a sob wrecked her body. “But I want to live. Please.”

Gwayne shook his head. Where was this coming from? “Whatever are you talking about?”

“I know I have been acting radical as of late, and I apologize, I just thought-” She hiccuped. “I thought it would make your choice easier.”

“What choice, darling?”

She whispered. “Between me and the babe.”

“Why would I-” It dawned on him. Had she really been dealing with this all by herself? “Oh, my sweet girl. Why did you not tell me?”

“I didn’t want to stress you any further.” She hugged herself. “Please, Gwayne. I swear I will give you another heir if this pregnancy-” She shivered. “Just don’t cut me. I beg you.”

He dropped down in front of her, grabbing her hands in his. “Listen to me well. I could sire a hundred children, but you. You are one of a kind, and I will always choose you.” He kissed the back of her hands once more. “Irreplaceable. You must know this.”

“No one is truly irreplaceable, Gwayne.”

He stood, his eyes dark. “Do not say such things again. Swear it to me.”

“I-”

“Swear it, Y/N.”

“I swear.” She whispered, cheeks red. “I swear to you.”

He nodded, smiling lightly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For coddling you.” He stepped closer, caressing her bump. “I am scared as well. My own mother had many a difficult pregnancy, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“I am sorry as well.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I should have come to you with my worries. I did not want to burden you. And I will make sure you have your heir. I promise you that.”

“I do not care if the Hightower name crumbles away into nothingness. As long as you are content, I will be as well.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. “There would be no point to this without you. I fear I could not do this if you were not by my side.”

“You have been doing perfectly fine as of late.” She frowned. "I truly am sorry.”

“No more of that.” He whispered, staring at her lips. “May we please go to bed?”

She nodded, knowing if she tried to speak that words would fail her. She lay on the bed beside him, tracing his freckles. “Sleep, my love.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.”

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #team black #team green #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #x reader #fanfiction #got #got fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fluff #literature #hotd angst #angst #🪩! fics

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aedearly · 3 months ago

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✎ . . . 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑴𝑬 𝑨 𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹.

₊˚⊹ a collection of loose poem verses, quotes or lyrics from various books and chansons. most were written originally in portuguese or french, and were translated to english by me. some are extracted from personal poems, as well! they all have some type of religious reference/motif. writing/roleplaying prompts. from fluff to angst and suggestive! feel free to edit as you see fit.

❝ i never felt more alive than when you called me your angel. ❞ ❝ saints above help me… don’t look at me like that. ❞ ❝ admit it, you’d have taken a bite out of eden, too. ❞ ❝ what are you waiting for? pray. ❞ ❝ confess. repent. repeat. ❞ ❝ for you? i will be any believer you want me to be. ❞ ❝ run away with me, where no gods can find us. ❞ ❝ i begged for a miracle. instead, i got you. ❞ ❝ you smell like the devil. ❞ ❝ where is your faith now? ❞ ❝ call me a sinner. ❞ ❝ the way you call my name sounds like heresy. ❞ ❝ in your gaze, i find my prayers answered. ❞ ❝ your lips are scriptures i long to memorise. ❞ ❝ even silence feels sanctified like this. ❞ ❝ when you embraced me, i felt like i was cradled by divinity. ❞ ❝ i do not wish for the stars to hear us now. ❞ ❝ meet me at our shared altar, where our ghosts can dance. ❞ ❝ kiss my hand. make me feel holy. ❞ ❝ your love feels like a fallen angel’s curse. ❞ ❝ please, can’t you be my sanctuary tonight? ❞ ❝ should i kneel and beg you to look at me again? as if you’re a saint? ❞ ❝ worship does not come cheap. ❞ ❝ must i pay for my sins? cry for forgiveness? ❞ ❝ hate me, blame me, crucify me; just please don’t walk away. ❞ ❝ i do not know how else to love you if not like a sinner. ❞ ❝ you were my redemption; now you are my ruin. ❞ ❝ the weight of your absence is my penance to bear. ❞ ❝ i built cathedrals of dreams, and you razed them to dust. ❞ ❝ you’re a hymn that haunts my mind at midnight. ❞ ❝ you left me bleeding for you, devoted—abandoned. ❞ ❝ i prayed to forget you, but even the heavens refused. ❞ ❝ do not tempt me with your promises. ❞ ❝ hellfire has nothing to your touch. ❞

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months ago

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I NEED MORE CREGAN STARKKKKK

Pelts

You were not one to grow jealous, but the knowledge that Lord Stark's favorite pelt cloak was a gift of affection from his old sweetheart inspired anything but affection from you.

Cregan Stark x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, jealousy, pettiness, fluff, a bit of angst ig????, etc.

A/N: hey nonnie im honored you like my cregan stuff. this is my first req since closing them. i feel like perhaps this is the world telling me i need to start writing fluff again............ lol HAHAH

The Lord of Winterfell had just arrived. Normally, I would meet him with a smile and brush the snow from his shoulders before warming his cheeks with the heat from my own palm. But today, neither did I brush the snow from his cloak, nor did I rub his cheeks. How irritating that he did not see to mind or even notice.

I do not fault him for lapping his meal like a starved beast. He rarely has time to have a proper meal when he is working, let alone when his duty calls him all the way up to The Wall for days on end. And yet, as he gobbled up his food, as though he was denied his whole life, my own appetite left me at the sight.

His tongue swiped the corner of his mouth and yet evidence of his meal remained. He chewed eagerly as he reached out for a cup of wine to wash everything down.

I could not help the face I made at the sound of his belch.

Only then did he recognize me. He sets his cup down, "wife," says Cregan, "you are not eating."

I raise my brows and press my lips into a smile, "I am not hungry, my lord."

My lord. Cregan straightens up from his seat and leans back. He clears his throat as his face twists warily, "are you well?"

I do not respond. I rest my hands upon the table. The candlelight between us flickers momentarily.

He gulps and sets his utensils down. He sighs slowly, "have I offended?"

I clench my hands tightly.

Cregan's eyes flicker to them. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and looks up at me. He does not like that my expression remains the same.

"Your pelt... milord," I mutter.

Immediately, the pelt upon his shoulders feel like a tonne. He rolls his shoulders back and immediately undoes it, "forgive me. It is inappropriate to have it on while-"

"Who gifted it to you?"

He freezes midway. He waits for me continue as he slowly places his cloak upon his lap. His eyes widen slightly, in confusion, in alarm. Was it a gift? He does not recall.

His silence is aggravating. I clench my jaw and lean forward, "do you not wish to tell me?"

Cregan opens his mouth.

"She told me herself."

A line forms between his brows, "who?"

"Lady Tallart."

He pinches his lips together. Lady Tallart? It could not be Edmond Tallart's mother who gifted this. It must be his wife... but which house did she belong to before she was wed?

He looks as though he is trying to recall the instance, the exact moment wherein his cloak was given to him. Somehow, the arduous recollection spurs me further into animosity. I growl, "do you truly not remember?"

He shakes his head, "I do not."

I clear my throat and push myself up from my seat.

Cregan stands quickly, so quickly, in fact, that his chair falls behind him with a loud thud, not that he cares. He calls my name out with concern and it makes me snap.

"I would appreciate it if you chose another cloak to wear."

The man walks over to me, forcing me to lift my gaze upon his worried face. I raise a hand at him before he can think to touch my arm. He withholds his touch.

"Cassandra and I had a cloak tailored in your absence. If it pleases you, you should wear it. However, if it is not to your taste, I can-"

"It is my taste," he interrupts. He nods his head, "the pick of my wife is my taste. I will wear it"

The glow of candlelight on Cregan's cheek makes my stomach roll. Bile rises up from my throat as his brows furrow in nothing but further concern.

"I care little for what I wear," he casts his cloak off to the side, "I care more for what concerns you."

My irritation over the matter bursts into embarrassment in an instant. A burning sensation creeps up from behind me, and soon I can no longer look upon my husband. I look back to the candle on the table and rashly gather my food. Before Cregan can speak, I mutter under my breath, "please enjoy your food, husband."

There's little he can do but watch as I rush off. Two wolves battle inside him, one that wishes to chase after, and another that keeps him still where he stands. Just as he is about to obey the former, the servant girl, Cassandra, comes up to him, "milord. Might I speak my piece?"

He watches as his wife disappears and sighs. He turns to Cassandra, "speak it."

She frowns, "milady has spent the three nights you were away making you a cloak herself."

"Has she?" his brows tighten.

Cassandra nods, "but her needlework is not as good as she wished, which is why she bought you this, milord," she hands him a neatly folded cloak.

Cregan takes it from her and sighs deeply. He unfolds the garb and inspects his wife's gift. He hangs the fabric on his arm and releases another breath, "will you show me my wife's needlework?"

Cassandra looks apprehensive, but she obeys her lord.

The next morning, I rouse to an empty bed. A thousand pins prick my heart, but I have no one to blame but myself for the turn of events.

I sit with myself, all lonesome, before deciding to begin my day. But just before I can dress myself, I hear a commotion from outside my window. I gasp when I see that there had been a buck who wandered inside the stronghold, running around in panic.

I wrap myself with a shawl before opening my window, watching how my husband and his men were trying to scare the deer towards the gate. Soon enough, my jaw drops at the sight of the horrid thing resting upon Cregan's shoulders as he maneuvered around the large creature.

Thankfully, it did not take the deer long to find the exit of Winterfell. The men share relieved sighs and laughter amongst themselves, as did I.

"My lord!"

Cregan, who was now calming down one of the spooked horses, does not hear me.

"My lord!" I call louder, gaining the attention of someone else.

Cregan is pat on the back. A man points skyward. He looks over his shoulder, face brightening at the sight of me. "Lady Stark," Cregan smiles, offering me a nod, "did we wake you?"

I shake my head, "what are you wearing?"

He turns to me and adjusts his lopsided cloak. The thing was hardly even worthy to be called one with how one hem barely met the man's calf and how one shoulder was far fuller than the other. He calls out proudly, "the work of my wife's hands!"

My face contorts, "it is horrid! Remove it at once."

Cregan pulls his head back, "I shall do no such thing."

"I bought you-"

"But I enjoy this," he lifts an arm to flaunt the terrible craftsmanship, "it keeps me warm and it suits me well."

"It does not!"

Cregan furrows his brows in challenge, "does it take away from my handsomeness, wife?"

I press my lips into a line.

The men around him chortle or snigger. Even mine own lips cannot help the chuckle that spills out. And though he was far, I could tell Cregan was awfully pleased with himself.

"If you wish to rid me of this, then you must do so yourself," he strokes the horse's snout, "but know you are challenging the Warden of the North as you do."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, "it is the work of my hands, Lord Stark."

"Which is why you must not rid me of it, my Lady Stark."

We stare at each other for a moment. Cregan's lips curl into a lopsided grin that matches his cloak. I sigh and shake my head once more, "we will speak of this later."

He nods, "as you wish, my love."

I clear my throat and close the window, ignoring the way my belly tumbled at the sound of his pet name.

#house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfic #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark fluff #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon smut #cregan stark smut #cregan smut #cregan stark angst #cregan angst

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bluebeary-jay · 5 months ago

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A promise softly sung

Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Summary: before the battle that will decide his fate, Astarion is terrified of losing you to Cazador. you comfort him after a nightmare. (set at the beginning of act 3)

Tags: hurt/comfort, BIG angst and some fluff, poor boy doesn't believe he's deserving of love :( let's hold him until he changes his mind

Warnings: mentions of trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, memories of past abuse and torture, c*zador, being unable to move (briefly), tadpoles mention (idk if that's a trigger)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: hiiiiiiiii my darlings <33 soo this is something else from what i usually write but i finished bg3 recently and i LOVED IT but i'm on a trip rn so in the absence of my pc i found some inner inspiration to write something again. honestly i missed writing very much but i had the biggest block for almost a year now but maybe it'll get better now that my classes are starting again and i'll be needing a distraction lmao. anyway comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and don't be shy to send in a request! and as always, happy reading!!! <3

He was there again.

Astarion loathed those hard, stone walls as much as he feared them. It was here that he once spent an entire night, having infernal script meticulously carved into his skin. It was here that he was punished every time he disappointed his master, every time he didn’t do well enough on his mission. It was here that he was reminded time and time again how worthless, pathetic and meaningless his existence was. It was here he returned in almost all of his nightmares.

But now you were here, too.

Astarion couldn’t believe this, but no matter how much he blinked or willed himself to wake up, the view before his eyes didn’t change. It was you, chained by the wrists to the ceiling where he was hanging so many times before, your toes just barely scraping the ground that was already splattered with your blood. Your clothes were ripped to shreds and cuts and bruises covered almost every inch of your skin. Astarion wanted to run up to you, to get you somewhere safe and far away from this place, but he found that he was unable to move. It wasn’t shock seizing up his limbs, but magical paralysis which he had experienced a couple of times during combat. Even though he knew it was a spell that was holding him in place, he still fought against it with all the strength he could muster – but to no avail.

Your eyes, full of tears and fear, met his briefly before you looked past him at someone else.

“Ah, my sweet, insolent boy,” whispered a voice straight from Astarion’s deepest, darkest nightmares, causing him to tense up in terror. A hand – pale, all too familiar in its deceptive tenderness – brushed his jaw from behind before grabbing his hair roughly. The vampire spawn could do nothing but watch as his head was tilted back and he came face to face with his master.

No, it can’t be… How was Cazador here? How were you here?!

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Astarion,” Cazador tutted, shaking his head. “Running away like that, not returning home for months… It’s no way to treat family, isn’t it?” Astarion felt a sharp sting of his master’s quarterstaff at his back, digging into the scars made by the same hand, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. “But I’ll forgive you… eventually. After all, you brought me this delectable treat…”

Both him and Cazador looked up at you when Astarion realized what – or rather, who – that bastard was talking about. He tried shaking his head, tried begging for him not to hurt you, but he still couldn’t move, his voice was still stuck past his throat and no word or sound came out. In the meantime, Cazador stood up, walking around his spawn to stand in front of you.

“His own survival was always the most important thing to him,” Cazador said almost pitifully, and only after a moment Astarion realized that this time, he was speaking to you. “He’s a selfish, contemptuous creature, after all. Say, did he tell you he loved you before he lured you here like so many others before you? Did he lie, swearing how much you mean to him?”

“Yes, he… he did.”

Astarion prayed to any higher being that it was just the power of another spell compelling you to say that, and not what you were really thinking. He tried to struggle against his own magical restraints, but whatever scroll or verbal command was used, it was far too powerful for the vampire to beat it with sheer willpower alone. He was helpless again – but worse than that, he was forced to watch you being at Cazador’s mercy, too, all while he couldn’t do anything to save you.

“I honestly didn’t think poor Astarion had it in him,” Cazador continued calmly, gliding gracefully around you and disappearing behind your back. Your own eyes, now full of hurt and betrayal, were trained on Astarion’s. He couldn’t turn away, but in the corner of his vision the elf saw a flash of a blade against your bare skin. “To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him… But I’m so very proud of you, sweetling.” Cazador looked at him over your shoulder and licked his lips, so, so dangerously close to your neck. “You’ll live to serve me for centuries to come, and you can watch your lover take your place in my ritual… You did well, Astarion.”

No, Astarion cried in the prison of his own body, unable to reach you or to even stop Cazador from spilling lies into your ears. Not her, no, no, please–

“No!”

Cazador smiled widely and sank his teeth into your fragile neck, and you screamed, still looking at Astarion with this horrible hatred in your eyes…

“No, no, please! Take me, please, just don’t–”

“My love, it’s alright, you’re safe…”

“Stop! Please, just–!”

His body suddenly jerked painfully and his eyes shot open, darting around in confusion and trying to figure out where he was. Astarion wasn’t feeling the cold frigid air of the kennels anymore – instead his skin was almost hot, and damp from sweat, but there was something smooth and soft under his back… the sheets. He was in a bed, at an inn. Still panting heavily, he looked around, noting the details in his surroundings: the crooked chandelier, a little window with curtains drawn shut, his shirt hung neatly over the back of the chair… and your shoes right next to it.

At the memory of your battered and tortured body in Cazador’s dungeon, Astarion shot up with a belated sob, almost knocking you over in the process. Only when your warm hand left his cheek did he notice your presence. You were kneeling next to him on the mattress, expression worried and sorrowful, with the last traces of sleep just leaving the edge of your vision. His red eyes scanned your body, but there were no bruises, no cuts made by Cazador’s wretched blade, no burns on your wrists from the manacles he saw you in mere moments ago.

And there was no hatred in your gaze. Only love and care he didn’t deserve.

Astarion’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could run out of the room or hide under the bed, you opened your arms, gently offering him the solace within. And he, being the selfish, contemptuous creature that he was, didn’t deny himself what he wasn’t worthy of.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, petting his hair softly, while the other hand was – as always – mindful of the scars on his back. “It was a dream, my love. You’re safe here with us.”

His body shook with quiet sobs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the soothing scent of your skin and your blood singing to him just beneath. He saw again before his eyes the way Cazador looked at him before he bit you, right in this place he was now so close to…

To give away one person who, for some strange reason, saw good in a filthy worm like him…

“I’m sorry,” Astarion choked out, finding his voice at last, which made you pause in your ministrations. “I’m so sorry f-for not doing anything… He…”

You were quiet for a couple of seconds, but then Astarion felt the most tender touch of your lips on the crown of his head, and he buried his face more into your chest.

“I’m here, darling,” you whispered. “Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real.”

He didn’t answer, instead lifting his arm and tentatively brushing his fingers just underneath your shirt. He didn’t feel any scars mirroring his own, but could still see the blood flowing from your back and down your legs, could still hear your painful scream… It brought fresh tears to his eyes again.

“I… I swear, I would never do that,” he attempted to explain himself, but his words came out in a pathetic sob, and he shook his head again, curling in on himself. “He– he was lying. I’d never…”

A fresh wave of tears wetted your shirt, but you didn’t seem to mind as you gently rocked him back and forth, cradling him safe in your arms. Old Astarion would probably scoff at the condescending action of being treated like an infant, but he knew better now. He still found it difficult, but with you at his side he was learning what true care and affection looked like, and how to accept it. You were always so patient with him, so gentle, never rushing or angry when he couldn’t give you the closeness and intimacy you deserved. Astarion loved that about you – even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet.

“My star…” you hesitated, but ultimately asked, “what did you dream about?”

The vampire took a shaky breath, unable to open his eyes or speak about what he saw. Instead, he called on the tadpole in his brain and nudged your mind with it, wordlessly asking for permission, which you immediately granted. There was at least one thing the tadpole was good for, he thought as you lived through the nightmare his weak, broken mind had conjured. If by the gods’ grace all of them managed to get rid of the tadpoles and survive this whole ordeal… and if by some miracle you still wanted to stay with him after all was done… Astarion knew he would have to learn how to communicate his feelings on his own. But not tonight. Not tonight.

You didn’t say anything for a long while, only continuing to hold him close to your chest. In this position he could hear the soothing beat of your heart, proving that he didn’t lead you to Cazador, that he didn’t turn you into a monster like him…

“We’re gonna kill him,” you finally said with your throat tight from emotions. “I promise you, as soon as we get to the Baldur’s Gate, we’ll find him and end him for good.”

Astarion knew what he should say – he should agree, or maybe jest that this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said, or even argue that it’s not going to be that easy.

But all he could do right now was to continue clinging to you like a child, too afraid to face you.

“I’d never give you away,” he breathed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure you heard it, but he didn’t care. “Even if I had to suffer another two hundred years. I’d never–”

“I know, my darling,” you whispered back, and Astarion felt your own tears disappearing in his white locks. He still couldn’t believe why someone like you would waste your tears on him of all people, and it caused a new kind of pain to bloom in his chest. “And you’re not those things he told you. You’re… you’re everything to me, Astarion. Everything.”

Astarion wondered if he’d ever believe that. You proved to him time and time again that you can make anything possible, even change the worldview of someone like him… but with Cazador’s threat still looming, he didn’t have it in him to try and convince himself of your words.

Maybe after the bastard's dead, he concluded. Maybe then it’ll get easier and he can finally start becoming someone deserving of you.

You stirred slightly, breaking him out of his musings. Astarion hugged you tighter, sharply stopping you from moving away.

“Please. Don’t go.”

You just leaned back on the pillow and kissed his head gently again. Astarion felt the tension in his body melting away just a little, but the tears welled up again in his eyes.

“I won’t. Promise.”

And you kept your promise. Astarion didn’t fall asleep again, but your constant heartbeat under his cheek brought him some semblance of peace as he waited for the sun to rise. It didn’t feel right to let you care for him so much, to gift and envelop him with your love that he didn’t deserve… But it’d be even more wrong to take that choice away from you. He knew all about that, after all, and he'll be damned if he ever treats you the way he was treated.

So Astarion decided that he will let you love him and he will love you in return, for as long as you allow it.

Because, truth be told, he was nothing if not a selfish, contemptuous creature.

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yoongelectric · 1 month ago

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On your own — LN4

— you can do it on your own while you’re looking at me

genre: smut (just a little bit of angst and fluff)

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: switch!lando, switch!reader, pet names, make up sex, p in v, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, they just can’t resist each other

english isn’t my first language, no proof read

- after spending a day alone, all needy and touch deprived you decided to punish your boyfriend

The first rays of sun of the day interrupted your sleep, and after a lot of useless shifting around the bed you finally accepted that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, as you reached for your boyfriend to say your good mornings and cuddle for a bit before getting up, you were surprised to find only empty and cold sheets. confused by his absence you checked your phone in search of any signs of his whereabouts, but you didn’t find a single message.

As you got up, the cold winter air brushed your bare legs, and as you walked to the kitchen, the empty house made you feel more and more needy of affection.

Hours passed and you still had no news or messages from Lando, you understood that he didn't have to spend his vacation glued to you and that he was probably having a good time with his friends, but you felt neglected, he wasn’t answering any of your phone calls and he hadn't even woken you up to tell you that he was leaving. and the worst part was the internal battle between your anger because of how thoughtless he was being, your worry that something might had happen to him, and the need for touch that was growing in you was killing you.

Just as you were about to call him again you heard the sound of keys in the door, indicating that Lando had arrived home

“Hi, honey” he said trying to kiss you, a kiss you were quick to dodge as you stood up from the couch and walked to the room giving him the silent treatment.

“how mature y/n” you thought to yourself, you knew this wasn’t the right way to solve this problem but sometimes a girl just wants to be showered with attention, so you just waited in your bed for Lando to come beg for forgiveness

you heard your boyfriends hurried footsteps before he appeared at the door

“baby, i’m so sorry, i meant to text you but my phone died as soon as i left, i didn’t mean to get you worried” he said carefully sitting on the bed next to you

“You could have woken me up to tell me where you were going, I don't even know where you were all day”. You were trying really hard to keep up your angry appearance but having him next to you after waiting for him all day was getting to you.

“y/n, i really am sorry, i didn't wake you up because i know how tired you've been these last few days and you looked very peaceful sleeping, i didn't have the strength to wake you up, my love. Max asked me to go with him to buy a gift for Pietra’s birthday, then we went to have lunch, i guess one thing led to another and I lost track of time”

You decided that was enough anger for the day and you gave him a soft smile “did you only buy gifts for Pietra?” you said half jokingly

Lando laughed, holding your face in his hands and taking that kiss he had wanted so much since he had arrived at your home

“you know i never forget about you, beautiful” He said, handing you a bag you didn't know where he had hidden. You carefully opened it, finding the dress you’ve been wanting for months, it was on your wishlist since it came out and every time you went shopping with Lando you looked at it for so long, too embarrassed to ask him to buy it for you.

“how did you know i wanted this?” you said unable to hide your joy

“i just know you so well, baby” Lando said kissing you again, this time much bolder and confident

You melted in his arms, with no hope of being able to resist him for another second, sometimes you get angry at yourself for how much at his mercy you are. but this time he had really screwed up, you couldn't just let this happen, that’s you felt like a light bulb had gone on in your head.

You straddled him, grabbed his hair and kissed him with the same intensity, until you felt him tense under your touch, you began to move your hips slow and hard on him and when you felt his erection grow beneath you, you mumbled on his lips “i see you missed me too, love” going down to kiss his neck

“mmhm baby, i need you so bad, been thinking about you all d-ay” He was having trouble putting his words together and that gave you the signal that it was time to play with him a little

“you know it’ll take a little more for me to forgive you, right?” you stood up and started taking of your top, surprising him with your bare chest since you weren’t wearing a bra

“i know, pretty, come here i’ll make it up to you i promise” he said taking his pants off and pulling you so you would sit in his lap again, and oh god how tempting it was to just give in

“you don’t deserve that, Lando, i’m afraid you won’t get to touch me today, baby, so just touch yourself” you saw how Lando opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out “go on, love, do it for me”

Seeing him hesitate, you licked your fingers slowly and started to play with your nipples, just the way he would, it didn't feel as good, but just to turn him on more you started to moan softly, moving your hips back and forth on the bed.

you were teasing and touching yourself but even though it felt good, what was really getting you worked up was seeing him fight against touching his painfully hard dick

“y/n please, don’t do this baby, i want you so bad please just touch me” he was starting to get desperate and to push him further to the edge you started giving him wet kisses up his thighs, very close to where he wanted them most but without getting there “fuck, you’re gonna kill me one day” he finally gave in, wrapping his hand over his swollen member

You watched him go up and down with his hand, you heard his moans and grunts and they only turned you on more and more. You were finally seeing in all its glory the effect you had on him and you were becoming addicted to that feeling. As you were feeling brave, you decided to experiment, so you leaned over him and spit on his cock just to see his reaction. Lando had to gather all his strength not to cum in that moment, his entire body trembled and tensed at your action, you were driving him crazy and although he wasn't going to admit it, maybe he was enjoying this more than you.

this was probably the most turned on you’ve ever been and when you couldn't take it anymore, you decided to take off your shorts and show him how wet you were “i want you to fuck me so bad, baby - a moan escaped your mouth- it’s a shame that you were so bad to me today”

“y/n fuck fuck fuck- you saw the tip of his member, angry red, and you swore you were drooling- don’t do this to me baby, i’ll make you feel so good, let me taste you please, i need you” he was just so close to cumming but he had to hold it, he needed you, he didn’t care if it was your hands, your mouth or your wet and warm pussy, he wanted you and only you

you fingered yourself and played with your clit at the same time and with how turned on you were you pushed yourself over the edge embarrassingly quick, there was just one problem, you just couldn’t cum, you never had that problem, when lando was away you did what had to be done, but watching him so needy in front of you, all sweaty and bothered just for you, just for watching you, was making it impossible for you to finish without him

“fuck, love, please, i’m gonna cum” you heard him say, pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you saw him squeeze his eyes shut, mouth slightly open and you felt so bad but you just had to interrupt him

“no, you won’t” he opened his eyes, his face a mixture of pain and disbelief, you slapped his hand softly so he would let go of himself and straddled him again, sitting on his dick in one swift motion, you were grateful that you didn’t have any neighbours nearby because the moan the two of you left was sinful

“love, i hope you had fun with your little game because you’re gonna be so sorry” he said grabbing your hips hard and slamming you against him without mercy, so delicious, just the way you liked, it felt so good you couldn’t think, you didn’t even hear yourself, the only thing you knew is that you were screaming his name again and again

You don't know when or how, you didn't even feel it building, but from one moment to another the two of you were reaching your climax stronger than ever in your lives, as you came down from your high you heard your boyfriend whispering sweet nothings and compliments in your ear, you were ready for a long session of aftercare when you felt him flipping you both so he was on top of you

“did you think i was done with you, princess?”

and with that you knew he was making up for all the lost time.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris scenarios #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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fallingintheforest · 1 year ago

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Chapter 24: The War Ended & The Heroes Reunited Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

Surprise update!

Guess who was so surprised that she finished the chapter that she didn't have time to tease it?

Please note that while the rating for CTB has been upgraded to Mature, this story is not going to be any darker than it already is. The people have spoken via poll, and I can finally acknowledge that CTB should have been marked as Mature since the beginning.

In this chapter of my 100% adult, no kiddie bumper fan fiction:

Link cries over a pudding bun

Time and Warriors have an honest talk about what happened in the past and what the future will look like

A newly rescued Twilight enters pack leader mode and cleans house

READ IT HERE⏩

#Wind is so cool now wtf #Iil man now moody teenager territory #spirit vs wind battle royale #my money’s on wind #I continue to love Hyrule’s side beef with CIA #she’s so sweet to wind though #loving how everyone is leary of Spirit #like thanks for coming buddy but shoo now you scare us #TWILIGHT MY LOVE #I love to see him stepping up and being such a comfort for the team #his reunion with them only made his absence in the previous chapter all the more apparent #this chapter was soooo freaking cathartic for my soul #Wars you doing so good BEBE #god the part where spirit was asking about the Well was so intense #SPIRIT DO YOU SEE THAT THE HYRULEAN ARMY HAS NO CHILL FOR REBELS #(still love you spirit even if you continue to scare me)#after wind v spirit it’s gonna be legend v spirits smoking addiction #also winds lil shy smile to wars was EVERYTHING #SEE WARS THERE IS FORGIVENESS #just so much amazing stuff this chapter. need to compose for proper written comment #ctb spoilers #lu ctb #god I can’t wait to see the Lincoln reunion shits gonna be AWK

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biteyoubiteme · 3 months ago

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cat got your tongue?

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you and yeonjun are both models.

warnings: 🔞!!! spit kink if you squint, no protection, creampie, dom!yeonjun, manhandling, bondage (uses his tie on readers wrists), fingering, oral (f!rec),mentions of cum eating prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.7k me when I lie and say these will all be 1-2k

an: I do not think this is my best work I think I just struggle with dom!member and I apologize lol this wasnt really requested but was taken as such ily @apeachty this was sent before the event post but on the same day so im adding it to the tag anyways lol this is not proof read forgive me sweet angels ill fall on my sword for you.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You would have to spend over a month traveling together. Over a month of back and forth, car rides, flights, hotel rooms, runways, and photo shoots all while trying to deny dating rumors. The contract was easy enough, but the money earned was less impressive than the exposer. To be the face of a company for an entire season, tied to one of the biggest names in modeling history, not only the fashion house but the model himself who set trends and made people famous for one little interaction. It was a brand deal people dreamed of.

The pen cleared the signature box faster than you ever thought you could sign your name. But then the nerves set in. It wasn't over doing your job, modeling, although hard, was now second nature. You worked well with almost every photographer you came across, following instructions without a fret, even when it came to runway you knew your walk was one companies begged to have on their sets.

But it was him that left you questioning your abilities. He had been the only clause in the contract that made you second guess yourself. Yeonjun was well known not only in the modeling community itself but globally. His face was splashed across countless brands, ads, and billboards. You couldn't go a day without seeing him at least once on your timeline. Even at the grocery store, in line at the checkout, he looked back at you with his perfect pouty lips from the front of a magazine you could only dream of being on the cover of as often as he was.

“You were specifically asked for,” your agent reminded you after you brought up the status difference. It wasn't as if you were not known, companies wanted you well enough that you wouldn't need the check from this single one month booking. It was the caliber at which he was held. “They want you and I wouldn't be the one to turn them away when this much press will be on you. Imagine the number of people calling to get one shoot in with you, he brings eyes,”

It wasn't until your first photoshoot that you realized that he would be more of a pain in your ass than an inspiration. He was never mean, you would have to give him that. But it was his overwhelming kindness mixed with the teasing tone he always used on you that somehow pushed your buttons just right. It didn't help that the first time that you walked into the studio you were so shy, little smiles shared with your hands folded in front of you trying to wring out your anxiety. Yeonjun wasn't even on set yet, having shown up a few minutes later with his arms full of coffee, passing them out to each staff member, knowing them all by name. “It's nice to meet you finally. I didn't know what you would like but this is what I picked out for the little mouse,”

“Little mouse?” it was the first thing you said to him, your head tilted just enough for him to take in the question and know the slip up of a nickname was going to stick especially when you couldn't get through the photoshoot without an apology. Shoulders stiff with his eyes on you, your nerves making you angry instead of anxious and it all had to do with the little grin set at the edge of yeonjun mouth. “I'll just step out,” and you hated how improved your film was from his absence, your heart calming down its rapt beading.

Of course you got over it eventually, or at least the stiffness. You couldn't afford to be stiff when standing next to yeonjun who was naturally relaxed about everything. He would slink to his spot on set, lay his lazy gaze in your direction, and get all of his shots in the minimal amount of frames as if he was born to be in front of the camera. It was annoying.

The two of you would be set up next to each other in hair and makeup, your bottom lip is finely brushed with the end of a glosses wand when he would lean on the back of your chair. His hands were always just hovering over your shoulders, never quite touching but enough to feel the heat from his palms, his head leaning next to yours looking back at you in the mirror, “You guys did such a good job, don't we just look like the perfect pair?” he would quirk an eyebrow at you, the two of you staring each other down while the staff agreed, but he was always waiting for your answer, “don't we little mouse?”

“If you think so,” your response always made him chuckle as if you didn't see the way the media was talking about your contract together, as if you didn't feel the chemistry between the two of you. People were still talking about your first runway together, the closing of the show for one of the best collections put on display that week.

The lead up was so chaotic, with dressing rooms stacked full of models and assistants, the floor a mess of people undressing and trying to make their quick changes as fast as they could before their names were called. Even yeonjun could feel the pressure in the room, the two of you in your designated corner stripping down back to back.

The crowded space made everyone bump into each other. For the smallest second you were caught by the sight of him taking his shirt off, pulling it at the back of his collar showing the way his jeans hung so low on his hips that his happy trail was on display. You had turned, taking off your shirt, shoulder knocked by someone coming to do your hair, it made you stumble back into yeonjun, his hand right at the small of your back holding you upright as you fumbled with the zipper on your pants. “Careful,” he muttered, your heart in your ears as you kicked your shoes away from your space.

The two of you were used to seeing each other in different versions of undress after all the photoshoots shared together. Comfortable enough now to be somewhat friends after all the car rides, the few interviews, and hours spent on a set together. It's what you accounted for as your key element to having such a good walk together on the runway. Every step matched, the energy vibrating off the two of you as if you had been a duo your whole life instead of just having been paired together less than a month ago.

Even at the afterparty people swarmed you two, asking about your relationship as if they could sense the livewire of that conversation hanging around your heads. It was the first time you had ever seen him flustered enough to stutter over an answer. “I um- you never know,”

The paparazzi loved the two of you, the crowd outside any event was packed full of them, their cameras following you around the city. The two of you always shared a car to your hotels, yeonjuns hand warm in yours leading you through the flash of every blinding light while you tried to shield your eyes. He would pull you in front of him when you finally reached the waiting car door, hand on your back gilding you in before climbing in after.

Even shutting the door behind the two of you only muffled the sounds of their questions to a faint murmur. It isn't until the car pulls away from the venue that yeonjun speaks up.

“You did well tonight, you looked…”

“Good, I hope,”

“You always look good, better than good, i was trying to come up with a different adjective,” it wasn't the first time he's complimented you, but it never stopped you from logging it away to giggle over it in private. “Sometimes I don't know what to say to you,”

You chuckle, “I never took you as shy,”

Strands of his hair hang in his eyes, head tilted just enough to catch what little light makes it in from the tinted windows, “no, not shy, just cautious,”

“What, afraid you'll break me? Hurt my feelings? Or maybe my ego will get too big,”

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, the sound taking up the space in the backseat. You loved the way his chuckles went down your spine, like a caress of his fingers on the skin you wished he touched. “You’d let me get close enough to break you?”

“I don't think you could,” it's a light jab and yet it sets everything off kelter. The car ride charged with an energy you couldn't get back into its box. Now opened, the two of you looked back at each other as if you hadn't felt this pot simmering over.

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he shrugged, “Okay,” he loved that you wanted to play this game with him, as if you hadn't always been slowly picking away at the short wall between you two. It was inevitable that you would end up pressed up against the mirrored walls in the elevator up to your hotel floor.

He wasn't even going to do anything, he was going to let you go to your room while he mulled over your conversation, picturing exactly what he wanted to do to you. But then you leaned back against those mirrors, your body reflected around him as the doors slid closed behind him. Your eyes traced the line of him, lashes hooded just enough for you to look through, like a siren on the rocks, beckoning him closer. You didn't stop him when he cupped your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip, nose dipping to yours. Even when he gave you enough time to pull away, lips ghosting over yours when he asked, “You'll be good for me, won't you?”

Your answer is hummed right into his mouth when he kisses you, devouring you, pushing you into the corner giving you nowhere to go. His body is hot against yours, cageing you in as he kisses down your jaw, sloppy wet spots cooling in the air as he nips at your neck. “God, imagine them having to cover up all the marks I leave on you during tomorrow's shoot,” his hand is heavy on your hip, dragging down you cup your cunt over your jeans, “Everyone is going to know I fucking ruined this pussy for anyone but me,”

Your whimper is eaten by the sound of the doors opening behind him, your tight grip on his shirt not loosening when he drags you out after him. He pushes you to his bed when you get past the threshold of his door. His slow walk to the nightstand to flick on the light gives you enough time to think about exactly what's happening.

He loosens his tie, veiny hands curled around the fabric as he nods his chin in your direction, “Take your clothes off,” it was only a few hours ago when he saw you topless, and yet your fingers shake when you reach for your hem. “Don't be shy now little mouse, always all talk and no play,”

The heat on your cheeks spreads to your ears at the nickname. Yeonjun takes to matching your state of undress by tossing his tie next to you before unbuttoning his shirt, the outline of him in his pants is mouthwatering. He watches the way you try to speak, hands twisting in the duvet not realizing he's come up so close to you before he's hooked his hand on your chin, tilting your head up before slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. He swirls the digit around, grinning at how willing you are to follow his command even without words, “one day ill fuck this pretty mouth, but for now, I need you on your hands and knees for me,” he shoves your face away, putting his slick finger in his mouth to taste you.

Turning around and having him at your back is both chilling and exhilarating, not knowing when he's going to touch you until his hands are sliding up your back, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall off of you. He lets his hand press between your shoulder blades, pushing down hard enough for your arms to give way beneath you, the side of your face pressed into the sheets. “Every photoshoot I kept thinking about what it would be like to finally get you into my bed, I kept thinking about how I would finally fuck you, how exactly I could use your body,”

His hands slide down your arms, tugging them behind you until you whimper, the silky material of his tie sliding along your fingers as he wraps up your wrists to keep you in place. “And every time I just came right back to thinking about putting you just like this, fucking you dumb; using you like my perfect little toy,”

With one hand holding your tied wrists his other slips down to tease you over your soaked panties, fingers following the lines of your cunt like he was made to map you out by touch. You can't even form words and he hasn't done anything, your pathetic little whimpers pushing him further and further. “So quiet now, I wonder if it's because someone's scared I'll break her?”

“Please,” it's so soft you don't think he's even heard you, but he's aching for every little sound.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” he pushes your panties aside, grinning at how wet you've gotten over so little. Your hips push back into his hand, his fingers slipping into you just enough to prep you for the stretch of taking him.

“Fuck me, break me, anything-” he's so quick to press his cock into you that you're gasping losing all thoughts. His fingers had done little to let you grasp the sheer size of him, even all your slick couldn't help that pleasure mixed with pain as his tip kissed your cervix.

He doesn't even hold off from moving, not once he's finally felt your warm gummy walls sucking him, so perfect he doesn't know how he will ever stop from coming back to you. He keeps one hand on your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, the other wrapped around the slack of his tie, tugging your arms and using them as leverage to keep his harsh pace as he fucks into your greedy cunt.

You feel so full, so completely stuffed that you're a mess of incoherent moans mixing with the slapping sounds of your connecting bodies. Yeonjun is mesmerized by the way your ass ripples with each slap of his hips; mesmerized by the way his cock is disappearing in and out of you. “So fucking perfect,” he's grunting, “I'm going to fill up and then eat my little mouse out until she screams, kiss your pussy better after taking me so well, does that sound good?”

“Yes, god yes!” Your voice is muffled by the way you are pressed into the mattress, arms slightly numb as he pummels himself into you, thrusts getting sloppier with the build up of his orgasm. He tells himself that he will pull out but then he's cumming, body shuddering as you clench around him, his rumbling moans following the steady pulse of his leaking cock.

When he pulls out of you he watches the way the dribbling cream coats your puffy lips. Untying your hands he lets you roll onto your back, slotting himself between your legs and attaching his mouth to your swollen clit. Your fingers still gaining feeling fall to his hair, pulling on the strands and he brings your orgasm back to the surface. The obscene sounds coming from his fingers trying to match his previous pace makes him chuckle, the feeling of his laugh vibrating against your clit. It takes little work for you to tumble into your orgasm when he curls his fingers just right, your body following every command he lays down.

His hand is covered in your combined cum when he's done with you, the stickiness capturing both of your attention before he shoves them into your waiting mouth.

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stxrvel · 4 months ago

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disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

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feirceangel · 1 year ago

Note

Asks are open you say? Well how about a dynamic flip? Feyd is the proud warrior but is unexpectedly bartered away in a deal his brother makes to humiliate him. Surprised and furious he fully intends to conquer his new "brides" family and kingdom only for them to recognize his strength and be met with the satisfying challenge of warrior/ farming planet.

So, I kinda went in a different direction with this, but I hope you still enjoy it, Anon!!

Imagine | A Match (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd is given in marriage to a wealthy House in order to gain an alliance. His new bride is not what he expected.

Word Count: 1,737

Warnings: arranged marriage, attempted choking/stabbing, non-sexual nudity (reader), Powerful! Reader.

"What?" Feyd's voice is barely concealing his rage as he stares down his uncle and smug brother.

"It was necessary, my darling," the Baron's voice is rough, his tone placating. "We need this alliance more than you know."

Feyd finds his teeth clenching, hands forming fists at his sides. "Why not Rabban?"

"You know why," the Baron glares. "They would not accept Rabban as a suitable match. You are to go and wed their daughter. And in return they give us whatever we ask."

Feyd growls, "I outta slit your throat, uncle."

The Baron laughs, "This is for your benefit as much as it is mine, dear nephew. Now go."

Feyd storms out of the room, a hurricane of rage sweeping through the halls. He has never felt an anger this severe in quite some time. He should have known something like this would happen eventually. And, knowing his uncle, there is another scheme at play.

Always plans within plans within plans.

It's not the worst situation, he muses later when he has calmed and steadied his mind.

House Wallach would be a formidable ally, an asset that shouldn't be taken lightly. With control over three planets and being the largest horticultural power in the Landsraad, they are powerful indeed.

The leaders of House Wallach has birthed only a daughter, which leaves them without a male heir. All manner of eligible men have tried their hand at a marriage to their daughter. None has been successful.

Until now, apparently.

A feral grin spreads across Feyd's face as he thinks of the possibilities.

He will have no issue wedding the daughter and taking control of House Wallach when the time is right.

And, perhaps if he plays his cards right, take control of House Harkonnen as well.

He cares not who he has to marry, even if he'll be mad about it for awhile. After all, he can dispose of her eventually.

~~~

Feyd arrives with much fanfare, as befitting the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Bright sunshine surrounds those gathered to greet him, people who are swamped in bright greens, yellows, and browns. All around the envoy are orchards of all kinds of fruit trees. A vibrant sea of green.

So much more colour than Feyd is used to.

His expression remains neutral as he greats the Lord and Lady of the House. They appear cautious of him, perhaps overly so. It seems they know House Harkonnen’s reputation.

"It is an honour to be here," he says, bowing slightly. The lie slides easily off his tongue.

"We are pleased to have you in our home, na-Baron." The Lord says, returning the bow. "Our daughter is so pleased that you accepted the match."

Feyd's lips quirk up. Surely he's lying, no noble lady would hold any desire for a creature like him.

"As I said, it's an honour."

His gaze sweeps around, searching for his wife-to-be. All he finds is diplomats and soldiers.

"Where is Lady Wallach?" He asks, unimpressed at her absence.

"Forgive us, your arrival coincided with an event she could not miss," the Lord replies. "She is attending a Munus Ceremony."

This catches Feyd's attention, "A fight?"

"Yes, if you come this way, we may still witness part of it."

Feyd follows Lord Wallach, silently fuming.

His betrothed is watching other men fight to the death instead of welcoming him? His outrage is unparalleled, yet he remains collected.

They lead him up to the viewing tower of an outdoor coliseum, with vines growing on every available surface.

The viewing box is empty.

"There my lord."

Feyd's attention is brought down to a figure in the ring who brandishes a dagger with a graceful air.

"Our daughter,” Lord Wallach smiles, the action appearing forced.

He hadn't expected this.

Feyd was picturing a regal noble lady, demure and pitiful. He had not once pictured this creature before him, fluid in her movements as she battles her opponent.

She blocks attacks with ease and avoids ones that would cause serious damage all while attacking just as fiercely. Her opponent is skilled, to be sure, but is no match for the ruthlessness of her attacks.

He falls to the ground, unmoving. Feyd’s bride-to-be lifts her arms in victory, grinning as blood drips down her blade.

“We honour!” She shouts, and the crowd responds with deafening cheers.

“We know she is not exactly… How can I put it? Traditional, let’s say.” Her mother frets, “But she will be a good wife, na-Baron.”

He barely hears her, eyes transfixed on the beauty in the arena as she battles another opponent. Yes, this is an interesting turn of events indeed.

“Of course she will,” Feyd replies. “I must meet her.”

He watches as she disappears into the building, no doubt going to change and bathe after her match.

“Certainly. She’ll be out to give you a tour in no time. Meanwhile, a guard can show you to your room.”

Displeased, Feyd nods and obediently follows the man to his room. As soon as he’s alone, Feyd opens the door and stalks out with determination.

He cannot wait.

There is surprisingly little security surrounding your change room, Feyd notes as he quietly opens the door.

Your piercing gaze meets him immediately. Instead of being frightened, like he had anticipated, you smile warmly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, I was not expecting you here. I’m afraid you have caught me unprepared to greet you properly,” you say calmly as you continue to unbutton your fighting tunic.

He doesn’t know what to make of your reaction. You’re not put off by his presence at all.

“I couldn’t wait,” he replies honestly.

You hum, “Excited to see me, na-Baron?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

The sound of your laughter is unexpected, “Of course not. I doubt I was what you were anticipating.”

His gaze lingers as you remove your clothes and retrieve a washcloth and bucket.

“Don’t you have servants?” He finds himself asking, motioning to the washcloth.

“I prefer to do it myself.”

He frowns, “You don’t seem very noble.”

“I assure you, Wallach blood flows deep in my veins,” your voice has taken an edge.

It seems he’s struck a nerve.

“I meant no insult, my lady,” his grin says otherwise, his voice rough and teasing. “It just appears you have odd taste. Fighting and doing the work servants should be doing.”

You return his even gaze, “I am not some snivelling noble who cannot take care of herself. Feyd, it seems you do not remember me.”

Your last statement has him pausing.

“What did you say?”

Lathering suds onto your bloodied skin, you barely spare him a glance.

“I said you don’t remember me. We met once, you know.”

He does not remember such a thing.

“Don’t toy with me,” he snarls. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you roll your eyes. “Feydie, I can’t say I’m not hurt you don’t recall.”

Your bastardization of his name brings a memory to the front of his mind.

A young girl bearing the Wallach crest getting angry with him over something and punching him clear across the face. He naturally returned the blow and they broke out into a fight right then and there.

He’s shocked he forgot it.

You watch as recognition filters through his eyes. Smiling, you rinse the suds off your body.

“Now you remember. To be honest, I don’t know why I was so angry with you.”

“You’ve always been a fighter,” he acknowledges with an inclination of his head.

“And I knew you could not be satisfied with a weak wife.”

He’s coming to realize this match may not have been a scheme of just his uncle.

“You wanted this match,” he phrases it as a statement as if he already knows the answer.

You smirk, “Does it not please you?”

“What makes you think I would want you as a wife?” He sneers, crossing his arms.

“I know you planned on controlling me, or killing me - whichever suited your needs best. You want power, Feyd. I can give you that and so much more. Is it too much to ask for you in return?”

He cannot find words, mulling over your proposal as his eyes study your every move.

You’ve certainly grown from that little girl who could barely throw a proper punch yet had the rage to carry through a fight.

Feyd observes as you dry yourself off. He leans over before you can, and grabs your fresh shirt from the table.

“Allow me, my lady.”

Surprised, you nod and present your back to him. A foolish mistake, to turn your back on a potential threat. He contemplates disposing of you right now, but finds himself frowning at the idea.

You’re so much more interesting than he first imagined.

Despite himself, he wants to know you better, to find out when you had your first gladiatorial fight or when you realized you could be so much more than wedding fodder for your parents to make a match with.

“So many suitors have tried to win your hand,” Feyd rasps as he guides your arms through the sleeves of your shirt. “Yet you denied them all.”

“None were you, my lord.”

“Why chose me?” He leans into you, pressing his chest to your back as he slowly starts buttoning your shirt.

You lean back into him, “You are a fighter, a warrior. You can wield blades and talk politics. And I know you can treat me right.”

“Why would I treat you any different than a common whore?” He suddenly presses his arm against your throat, cutting off your oxygen.

He looks at your expression, surprised to find a wide grin. A flash of pain goes through his side. Your eyes flicker downwards and Feyd looks down to find the tip of a blade piercing his skin.

He releases his hold.

“You will treat me differently, Feyd. And do you know why?”

You turn to face him, placing your hand on his bleeding wound.

“Because I will make you.”

Feyd cannot stop the smile forming on his plush lips as you bring your hand to his cheek.

He doesn’t say anything as you continue place a kiss to his lips before shoving him away.

“We must ready ourselves for the dinner tonight, there is much to discuss about the wedding.”

“Of course, my lady.”

[Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!]

#female reader #reader insert #feyd oneshot #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd imagine #dune #dune part two #dune x reader #fanfic

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