#i have to be very strong for my mother and the people around me

[northopalshore]

Hii💝💝

I'm curious, based of your experience, what is your first impression of each rising sign ??

♀Hello 🌝

Personal experiences with the rising signs

Note that these do not reflect the entirety of those with the rising signs mentioned, these are just my personal opinions of people I've met in real life with these placements.

๑ஓ Aries risings:

All the aries risings I've met up to this point are very direct. They look like they bite but really don't. Also, a lot of them kind of look & act like a dumbass (in the best way possible). The edge lords with no filter, no patience, no tolerance, but most of all no bullshit.

If they call you an ass that's a term of endearment lmao. Sarcasm is their love language, jokes and wit are their strong suits. They're the ones that will debate you just for fun (the guys especially).

Intense, passionate and lively. They always look mad for some reason but they swear they aren't. It's like their eyebrows are just angled that way naturally. I love being around them though. It's always refreshing.

First impression in a single sentence: Annoyingly charming.

๑ஓ Taurus risings:

Literally the most patient and chill people I've ever met. Super friendly, slightly dorky. Perhaps it's because I have Taurus in my 3rd house, but I'm usually at ease around them. Although, sometimes it's rather awkward when we run out of things to say lol.

I'd say they are the goofiest people I've ever met.

First impression in a single sentence: Fun but kind of awkward.

๑ஓ Gemini risings:

Very talkative. Very friendly. Always seem to have some sort of new gossip or topic to think about. They do tend to be a bit two-faced at times especially when it involves gossiping, however I've noticed that if they have sun or moon here they are rather passive aggressive. By that I mean they don't "split faces" or pretend to like something as much compared to those without it. How do I say it .. they have more integrity?

It's not like all the gossip is bad, sometimes they comment on the right stuff but just hide their distaste rather than facing any sort of confrontation.

Maybe it's because my 4th house is Gemini, but I sort of have a hit or miss relationship with Gemini Suns & risings. They tend to "mother" me quite often. Perhaps they remind me of some traits my mother has? Both good & bad. I tend to have a love hate relationship with them for some reason, but I don't dislike Gemini.

There's sometimes this codependent feel whenever I'm around them. But Gemini moons? Those are my bffs lmaoo.

First impression in a single sentence: Gretchen Wieners

๑ஓ Cancer risings:

The sweetest most genuine people I've ever met, regardless of their gender. They are always honest with what they're trying to communicate. (Although most cancer risings I know have either sun or moon in the first house)

Note: I'm realising now I know quite a handful of people with sun/moon in their 1st house.

First impression in a single sentence: "I can't believe people like you still exist."

๑ஓ Leo risings:

Omg. They are super friendly & very caring. They definitely are divas in their own right. Very expressive especially when it comes to their makeup or looks. They love accessories, and outfits that stand out.

I have a leo rising friend with moon & jupiter in her 1st house. Girl, lemme tell you she is extra. Contact lenses, head accessories, heels, the works. She's very confident of herself as well. Posting videos & photos of herself often.

There is a bit of a temper but it's not that prominent & doesn't really last long either. Still, I've never met a single Leo rising that is selfish. Self obsessed yes, but not without the heart to match.

First impression in a single sentence: The bigger the hair the bigger the heart.

๑ஓ Virgo risings:

Edge lord II. There are three types of virgo rising that I usually meet. The self deprecating, the self obsessed perfectionist & the one in the middle.

On one hand, they are a super deadpan, no bullshit typa person then on the other, they are extremely self focused and sensitive towards judgement but super judgemental themselves. Then on the otherr other hand, they couldn't care less about what you think.

Very analytical, as you'd expect from Virgos. I always notice them looking around or at me trying to evaluate their surroundings lol. I appreciate their sense of thoughtfulness.

If they're nice, they're really nice but if they're immature or have issues with confidence or control especially then it's very evident. Still, I don't dislike them by any means. Virgo is my descendant I guess I'm a sucker for an edge lord lmaoo. Maybe that's why I keep marrying Sebastian in Stardew Valley.

First impression in one sentence: Okay Sasha Fierce/ 'cause tonight will be the night that I will fall ferr yeww ovar againn— ♪

๑ஓ Libra risings:

They are usually very sweet & open to communication. The ones I've met in real life are very intuitive, or at least are somewhat of a deep thinker. However, some of them tend to judge things based on looks quite fast lol. Other than that though, they usually have very good (fair) judgement & good values.

They are usually very pretty (conventionally attractive). With symmetrical oval shaped faces and a gorgeous resting face. They just look like an ad.

However, I have a housemate with a libra rising & aquarius degree and she's.. well you wouldn't expect her to be a Libra rising based on her looks. It's not like she's ugly, no. Her features just differ from what you'd expect from a Libra rising.

Also, she tends to be rather biased at times. Saying that one thing is bad, but she acts on something else which isn't "applaudable" by any means.

First impression in a single sentence: Clueless' Cher meets Karen Smith

๑ஓ Scorpio risings:

These are the asian baby girls or "goth chicks". Their favourite colour is usually black or purple. Normally I see them with tattoos or dyed hair. These are my people though, they are very inquisitive. A lot of the scorpio risings I know like to ask questions. Sometimes very.. strange or intense questions.

I love how genuine they are to themselves however, speaking their mind and expressing their feelings through their expressions. Some of them tend to be... Reclusive? They see themselves as this dark entity, either too smart for the others to comprehend or dismissive of what people have to say about them.

Although, I've never met a scorpio rising who isn't slightly obsessed with themselves lmao.

First impressions in a single sentence: I bet they listen to Mitski & Lana Del Rey.

๑ஓ Sagittarius risings:

I feel like people tend to sleep on how attractive Sagittarius risings are. Like, they're giving face, body, curves and everything in between. I have an older friend (27-28) and she's just so pretty. Especially when she smiles. Ngl but I did side eye her man a couple times during their wedding.

Usually very active outdoors as well.

Most of the guys I've met with this placement are rather religious. Like, the type to debate over it. The men are quite preachy (at least the ones I've met are). Most of them are reliable and fun to be around. Certified yappers.

First impression in a single sentence: The bigger the brain the hotter the person, I just hope they don't get too big now.

๑ஓ Capricorn risings:

Usually, the people I met with this placement give a pretty cold attitude towards the things around them. Their muscles on their faces are usually tense or there's this resting b face there. Sometimes they look like they're in a hurry to do something but you see them doing nothing in particular after lol.

They look like they've got shit to do & their lives together. Either that or they look rather unmotivated lmao. When you're talking for the first few times, there's usually no expression on their face. They'll just blink every now & then.

They are competitive too which is something you'd normally expect from an Aries more than anything.

First impression in a single sentence: "They are so practical."

๑ஓ Aquarius risings:

Weirdest mfs alive. Both male & female. Also tend to be the loudest (but differs depending on the degree it's in), though still charming in a way. They tend to be very chill and always down to hang with whoever. Usually always laughing at their own jokes or something they thought of randomly. They tend to be very intuitive, although it manifests differently with every aquarius rising I've met (whether their focus is on society or themselves). There's this tunnel vision aspect as well. They are genuine to a fault lol. The ones I've met personally are a little wild or quirky, always doing their own thing.

Very opinionated usually. Always trying to look at the big picture.

First impression in a single sentence: "I mean, if it works for you great."

๑ஓ Pisces risings:

They are a little erratic, a little strange and other worldly in a way. When you look at them, at times you'll notice that they aren't really there. Their interests are always different from the people around them.

Some of them tend to have this victim mentality to them, but I think it's just because most of the ones I met were when I was younger. They're probably just as immature as other kids at the time.

Very spiritual regardless if they follow any specific religion or not, I've never met a pisces rising (or w the degree) that isn't open to the idea of a higher power or karmic cycles. This seems to be true especially as they grow older. They also always have some sort of connection to music.

First impression in a single sentence: "I wonder if their mind is at Jupiter right now"

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

***entertainment purposes only, reader discretion is advised***

Hope this was entertaining ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔ◜⁠✧

@northopalshore

[unknown-cold]

In this interview Amanda said something that caught my attention. Do you think that in ep 8 Caitlyn will talk about what Jinx did to her when she kidnapped her? Bc Amanda said that in ep8 there's a Caitlyn line that will make us say "Oh so that's why"

Amanda means this line that Cait is going to say will let us know why she was so mad at Jinx in ep 3 and how Caitlyn went completely blind when she saw Jinx in her target and bc of her anger and also her fear and terror of Jinx, Cait has completely lost control of herself in this moment. (there is someone who made a post on this topic @loycos and talked about what happened to Cait in ep3 and how Cait didn't see Vi or Isha in front of her bc of her anger and her deeply terrified of Jinx) I mean look at her eyes and the expression on her face, yes she looks angry but she is also terrified.

This is a natural reaction. I mean for example, imagine that you see something that scares you so much. There are two reactions, either flight or fight, and these reactions always come without a person thinking. At this moment the person is only thinking about getting rid of the thing that scares him, and he does not focus on what is around him bc these strong feelings control him.

Anyway, what makes me sure that this scene might happen in ep 8 (Caitlyn talking about what happened to her when Jinx kidnapped her) is Reed Shannon (Ekko VA) comment when he saw the drawing and said "I thought this was a leak" Reed might be joking as usually, but why this particular drawing and why he chose this word "leak".

But honestly if this scene actually happened and we knew what happened to Caitlyn, it would make us understand more why she was so angry and scared of Jinx when she saw her in front of her and it would also explain why she literally went blind and didn't see anything around her at that moment, neither the child nor Vi, all Cait saw was Jinx, she just wants to bring down Jinx. I mean look at these pictures she is so terrified of her

Again Caitlyn's insistence on killing Jinx in the scene in ep 3 was not only motivated by revenge on Jinx, but also out of fear and terror of her.

And not like those idiots who say that Caitlyn wanted to kill the child on purpose to get to Jinx or even say that she wanted to kill Vi too, or bc she's a cop and the cops kill children and blah blah... That's really ridiculous and annoying!! Bc if we focus a little bit on the period that Caitlyn went through we will see that Cait didn't have time to process all these things that happened to her, from the torture that happened to her when Jinx kidnapped her, then the killing of her mother, then the attack on the memorial ceremony. (I know that Jinx is not the reason, but from Caitlyn's perspective she thinks that Jinx and the Silco followers are the reason)

And in the end I hope that no one comes who doesn't like the post bc I am defending Caitlyn's character. If you don't like this character I don't care, there is no need for you to write a stupid comments. Please don't tire your little fingers if you don't like my post block me this is better for you and me. I will not waste my time responding to you, I will delete your comment and block you immediately.

I am a student at the Faculty of Psychology, and when I talk about trauma and the interpretation of human behavior and reactions, I know well what I am talking about. Bc most of the characters' reactions in this show are very realistic and need to explanation, writers do not want to explain everything in the show, they want viewers to occupy their mind and explain the events themselves (And I still repeat the point that the show focuses on the development and complexity of the characters more than anything else, and does not focus on solving political issues, the show is not about politics, okay)

And btw some people ask me about my opinion of Jinx's character, I have no problem with her character at all, I like her and I understand her condition, when I criticize her actions, it doesn't mean I hate her.

One day I may do a post about her character development and her condition, but I see that there are many posts about her and her actions, and I feel like I won't say anything new about her. Unlike the rest of the characters like Vi and Caitlyn, there are not many people talking about them. And maybe I will make a Viktor post bc I really like the development of his character. When the show ends, maybe I will.

[buckets-and-trees]

Did you intend to prompt more I'm Your Man Andy with this? Perhaps not, Kris, but... IYM!Andy's track record doesn't support doing things because YOU want him to, does it? 😏

Title: Burned Off the Haze Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Things only continue to escalate after Andy's meeting your parents, and he only continues to keep his control of your lives together. Takes place directly after Don't Look Too Far.

Content/Warnings: emotional manipulation; mild smut: kissing, vaginal fingering; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: No one should be surprised this man would make sure he got his week in the Countdown to Chris-mas!

You’re waiting impatiently for Andy to get home from his day at the country club with your father. You meet him at the top of the stairs leading from the garage on the lower level.

“When were you going to tell me you had decided on a wedding here in Boston instead of eloping?”

With casual determination, Andy wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Every touch ignites a fire within you, the intensity of his embrace leaving you breathless and wanting more. The world starts to fade away as you get lost in the moment with him, but then you push against his chest and turn your head away.

“Andy! Answer me!” you insist as you extricate yourself from his arms - though he lets you go freely, not forcing you to stay in his embrace.

“I would have told you over dinner last night, but…” he trails off, giving you a meaningful look.

You step back, putting more distance between you and Andy. "But what? I was too busy smashing up your cars?"

“No, you largely refused to talk to me through dinner. And then after,” Andy's lips quirk in amusement, "we were otherwise occupied the rest of the evening, if you recall."

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your passionate encounter. You push those thoughts aside, refusing to be distracted. "You made another huge decision without even consulting me."

“I only achieved what I have because I learned when to double down and when to pursue a different course of action,” Andy replies. “I thought you might prefer a proper wedding with your family and friends present."

You shake your head in frustration. "That's not the issue here, Andy. It's that you keep making these choices for us, for me, without including me in the process. Forcing our engagement, meeting my parents behind my back, making big calls about our wedding? What's next?"

Andy's eyes flash with irritation, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you. "After meeting your parents, I decided a small but proper wedding is the better move."

You narrow your eyes, sensing there's more to this sudden change of plans. "It can’t only be meeting my parents that inspired this change of heart; you’re not that sentimental."

Andy smirks. “Good assessment - your intelligence is one of the things that drew me to you. But your parents are good people who love you deeply,” he continues, his voice taking on a softer tone. “They've been dreaming of your wedding day probably since you were born. Your mother's eyes lit up when she talked about helping you choose a dress, about flowers and cake tastings. Your father... well, he tried to hide it, but I could see how much it would mean to him to walk you down the aisle."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. You feel a warmth in your heart for what he says about your parents because you know he’s not wrong, your mother had gushed about those very things while you had lunch together. But there’s also an ache in your throat because you’re so angry, you want to cry and yell and rage at him.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And how does this suit your purposes, Andy?"

His eyes darken slightly as he regards you. "A proper society wedding cements our union in the eyes of both our worlds - the legitimate business sphere and the less legitimate one. It sends a clear message about my intentions."

"Your intentions?" you press, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Andy steps closer, his imposing frame looming over you. "That you are mine, irrevocably. That I will protect what's mine with everything I have." His voice is low, almost a growl. "And that anyone who even thinks of touching you or using you against me will face severe consequences."

You swallow hard, torn between fear and an unwelcome flicker of desire at his possessive words. "I'm not a possession, Andy. You can't just stake your claim."

Andy's eyes flash dangerously and in one swift motion he has you pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One hand grips your hip while the other cups your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"Can't I?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're wearing my ring. You're living in my home. You've shared my bed. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you not mine?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to push him away, but your traitorous body responds to his proximity. Heat pools in your core as his scent envelops you.

"I-" you start, but the words are cut off as Andy's mouth crashes down on yours.

The kiss is fierce, demanding, stealing your breath and your resistance. His tongue plunders your mouth as his body presses you firmly against the wall. You can feel every hard plane of his muscular form molded against your softer curves.

Despite your anger and frustration, your body betrays you. Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. A moan escapes your throat, swallowed by his insistent lips.

Andy's hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The new angle allows him to grind against you, and you gasp at the friction. Your head falls back against the wall, breaking the kiss.

"Andy," you pant, your voice a mix of protest and plea.

He takes advantage of your exposed neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He trails his lips up to your ear. "You are mine," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "Have I not made that clear from the first night I claimed you, sweetheart."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to argue, to deny the claim he's making on you, but your body is singing with need. Andy's hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You can’t tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his voice husky. “I know your body too well now. If I put my hand between your legs, I know I’ll find you wet for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Andy's words send a rush of heat through your body. You know he's right - you can feel the slick evidence of your arousal. But you refuse to give in so easily.

"That doesn't mean anything," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "My body's reactions don't change the fact that you're making decisions about our lives without me."

Andy pulls back slightly, his piercing blue eyes studying your face. His hand moves from under your shirt to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Old habits die hard, sweetheart. I'm used to making decisions and having them followed without question."

You blink in surprise at his admission. It's more than you expected from him.

"But if I left every decision up to you now, we'd never get anywhere," Andy continues, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You'd keep fighting this, keep denying what's between us."

You want to argue, but you know there's truth in his words. You've been resisting at every turn, even as your body betrays you with its desire for him.

"That doesn't make it right," you say softly, your anger deflating slightly. "I need to have a say in my own life, Andy. In our life together, if that's what this is going to be. Do you even want that? Want us?"

Andy's eyes search yours for a long moment. "We will have our wedding, and I have some stipulations, but I’ll leave the rest to you. September fifteenth, and we leave the next day for our honeymoon in Italy."

It's not what you want, but it's the first thing he’s giving you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

He steps away from you completely, and your body falls forward slightly without his pinning you to the wall. Once he steadies you, he begins to walk away.

“The wedding planners will be here tomorrow morning at ten, and then after lunch I need you to accompany me to a business meeting with one of my lawyers.”

You stand there for a moment, processing Andy's words. A mixture of emotions swirls within you - frustration at his continued control, a flare of disappointment of him leaving you unsatisfied, and apprehension about these meetings he has already arranged.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. "Wait," you call out. "Why are we meeting with a lawyer? Aren’t you technically a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, turning back to look at you briefly, “but does a doctor not have their own doctors?”

You nod, and he resumes his progress down the hall.

You watch Andy walk away, your mind reeling from the conversation and the intense moment you just shared. Part of you wants to call him back, to continue the argument or maybe even give in to the desire still thrumming through your body. But you stay silent, letting him go.

Once he's out of sight, you slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. The whiplash of emotions - anger, frustration, desire, and now a strange brand of hopeful wariness - leaves you feeling drained.

You push yourself off the wall and make your way to the room you’ve been given as a personal study. You need time to process everything that just happened. As you enter, your eyes land on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. You twist it absently, thinking about Andy's words.

A proper wedding. Your parents' joy. Andy's claim on you. It's all so overwhelming.

But what haunts you is was what he didn’t say.

Does he want a life together? Does he want an us?

Caught in the danger of that before, you were able to get away, but there’s no telling how dangerous Andy Barber is. You’ve only witnessed a fraction of his power and control. He’s created a connection with your parents. You have no doubt he knows far too much valuable information about your life, so would any kind of escape even be possible? And if it were, would anyone you left behind be safe?

In the room you’ve been given as your study, you spend some time tending to your collection of potted plants, carefully trimming away a few dead leaves and watering where you find dry soil. You settle into your favorite armchair and immerse yourself in a novel, getting lost in its pages until the housekeeper interrupts to announce that dinner is ready. You make your way to the dining room, but notice that your partner Andy is not there. When you ask about his absence, you’re told he went out to tend to some business. Afterwards, you retreat to the couch in the living room and watch old episodes of your favorite sitcom, finding comfort in the familiar characters and laughter.

You go to sleep alone for the first time since the night of his gala.

The hours tick by as you lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The vast emptiness of the king-sized mattress seems to mock you, a stark reminder of Andy's absence. The night stretches on endlessly as you toss and turn in the vast, empty bed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes eleven, then midnight, then one. Where is Andy? What "business" could keep him out so late? You try to push away the nagging worry, reminding yourself that you shouldn't care, that his absence should be a relief. But a small traitorous part of your heart that has begun to yearn for his presence betrays you.

No, you don’t yearn for him. You’re just accustomed to him.

With each passing hour, your anxiety grows. Eventually you drift in and out of fitful sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, the impending wedding, and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

You wake just enough to register Andy pulling your body to his chest as he settling in behind you. The first hints of dawn are only beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, “Mmm, Andy?” you hum sleepily.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “you can sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you drift off again, unaware of your body softening in his arms.

But when your alarm goes off at seven, you’re alone in the bed once again.

You tell yourself you’re relieved.

You stretch and yawn, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from your restless night. As you sit up, your eyes land on a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. Andy's precise handwriting stares back at you:

Meeting ran late. Had to leave early for another. Remember - wedding planners at 10. Wear something nice for the lawyer meeting after lunch. - Andy

You crumple the note in your fist, a mixture of frustration and disappointment churning in your gut. Even when he's not here, Andy is directing your day. You force yourself out of bed, determined to at least choose your own outfit for the morning.

After a quick shower, you select a casual but stylish ensemble - fitted jeans and a soft, short sleeved sweater in a deep emerald green that brings out your eyes. As you're applying the last touches of makeup, your phone chimes with a text from your mom. The one silver lining with the turn of events after the weekend is that your relationship with your parents is back on track since you’re no longer hiding a sudden and inexplicable engagement to Andy.

After a solitary breakfast, you go back to your study and set to work at a beautiful desk near one of the windows, diving into emails and looking over the calendar of upcoming events and the needs for your team this week to be ready for your weekly 11am strategy session.

Back in the spring when you had taken on Andy Barber as a client for the largest gala and one of the largest events your company had ever planned, you had strategically not accepted any book dates for a full six weeks afterwards. You had wanted to ensure that everything went off perfect for the Barber Gala without compromising any events that would come right in its wake. The fee for the services of you and your team was more than enough to accommodate that break in the events schedule, and it was a decision that you were infinitely glad you had made as it had worked out well for suddenly being ensnared into Andy’s life. Rather than renting any formal office space, you and your team worked remotely and always went to clients and vendors or the event venue to meet rather than making them come to you. It had the added benefit of building rapport with people you worked with and enhancing your reputation as being a team who valued the partner you were working with.

With the break in the schedule and fully remote office, you had been able to fully put off any revelation about your new arrangements with your team of three. Even with the video chats, you’d simply used virtual backgrounds to mask your new surroundings.

You manage to wrap up the agenda for your 11am a few minutes before the wedding planners are expected to arrive. You tap your pen on your planner, mulling things over. Since events are in your blood, it’s possible you could wrap up an initial meeting with the wedding planners before your team’s meeting - especially because you’ve been through all this before, you know who the best vendors are, and you have stowed away a slew of ideas for the wedding you thought may at some point take place in the future with some unknown future husband. Worst case scenario, you’ll excuse yourself from Andy and the wedding planners for a few minutes at eleven to jump on the call, say you’ve got an awful headache or something, and hand over the meeting to your number two, Effy, and then get back to Andy. Something tells you Andy would not love you bailing completely at 11.

Satisfied enough with your game plan, you close your laptop and head toward the front of the palatial home to be present when the wedding planners arrive.

“Just in time,” Andy says as you enter the foyer.

You freeze momentarily at the sound and sight of Andy. He's leaning against the doorframe of his study, looking impeccable in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. His blue eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"You look nice," he says, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” you respond, trying to keep your voice neutral.

He reaches you and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. Before you can react, he leans in and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Despite your desire to stay simmering with anger at him, you find yourself melting into the kiss - as always, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You're about to respond when the doorbell chimes, signaling the arrival of the wedding planners. Andy's hands drop from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asks, his tone light but leaving no room for argument.

You nod, squaring your shoulders as Andy opens the door to reveal the wedding planners.

Better known as your team - Effy, Lila, and Dev.

They cheer and shout “Surprise” and “Congratulations” and rush in with champagne, flowers, and a platter of pastries and fruit from one of your favorite bakery vendors.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your team in disbelief. Effy, your right-hand woman, is beaming as she holds out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Lila, your creative genius, is practically bouncing with excitement, her arms full of a stunning bouquet of peonies and garden roses in shades of blush and cream. Dev, your logistics wizard, balances a tray laden with an assortment of pastries from Maison de Sucre, the French bakery you've used for countless events.

"What... how?" you stammer, torn between shock, joy, and a surge of anger at Andy for orchestrating this without your knowledge.

"Andy called us yesterday," Effy explains, her eyes sparkling. "He thought you might appreciate some familiar faces to help plan your big day - and who else would you trust to plan a rush wedding?"

You turn to glare at Andy, but he merely smirks. You’re acutely aware of not only a need to keep up appearances, but a want to save face on your part, as well. So as they laugh at your glare, you quickly shift into a pleasant game face and channel the part of you that does want to share in the excitement of your team, and rush to give them hugs and usher them inside.

in just under two hours, most of your wedding is planned. Your team came prepared, knew your tastes, and had connections they were ready and eager to tap for your whirlwind wedding.

Playing the part of Andy’s blissfully happy fiancé to keep your team from suspecting anything was amiss had been difficult and yet simple in equal measure.

Andy offers to leave when you suggest that you touch base for the weekly strategy session, but your team encourages him to stay. So he does. You marvel at how masterfully he charms everyone around him. You know he often manages this with you, as well.

Everything is on track with your team for the upcoming events - including a redistribution of tasks and responsibilities that they’ve already discussed to lighten your load leading up to the wedding. They insist so you can take care of all the bride things they imagine you’ll be doing leading up to the nuptials. Your eyes meet Andy’s, and you see the glow of satisfaction radiating off of him.

Your team begins to pack up their materials. You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you're touched by their enthusiasm and grateful for their expertise, their thoughtfulness. On the other, you feel guilty for the deception, for allowing them to believe in a fairytale romance that doesn't truly exist.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress," Effy says, closing her laptop with a satisfied smile. "We'll get started on the vendor contracts right away and have them ready for your review by tomorrow afternoon."

You nod and smile. "Thank you all so much. I... I don't know what to say."

Lila gives you a warm hug. "We're just so happy for you! And don't worry about a thing - we'll make sure your day is absolutely perfect."

“I know you will.”

As they gather their things and head towards the door, you notice Andy hanging back, eyes ever watching all your interactions.

You walk your team to the door, exchanging final hugs and promises to touch base soon. As Dev, the last to leave, steps out, he turns back with a grin.

"By the way, boss, nice job keeping this under wraps. We had no idea!"

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Well, you know me. I love a good surprise."

As soon as the door closes behind them, you lean against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open them, Andy is standing before you, his expression unreadable.

"That went well," he says casually.

You push off the door, anger flaring. "You had no right to involve my team without telling me."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t have agreed, I know you’ll appreciate the gesture in the end, and they’re the best in the business, are they not?"

"That's not the point," you snap. "This is what we talked about yesterday! Making decisions without me!”

“This was already arranged before that discussion, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he says with a smirk. “You love a good surprise - you just said so yourself.”

You raise your hand to slap him, but he catches your wrist, his smirk vanishing, replaced with a stern look. You huff and try to pull away, but Andy's grip on your wrist tightens, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint. In the next instant, he pulls you flush against his body, his other hand snaking around your waist to hold you in place. The sudden movement knocks the breath from your lungs, and you're acutely aware of every hard plane of his muscular form pressed against you.

"Careful, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with."

A chill runs down your spine as you're reminded of the power this man wields. The charming facade he'd worn for your team has vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating persona you've glimpsed before. His blue eyes, usually so captivating, now resemble chips of ice.

"Let me remind you," Andy continues, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not just some wealthy businessman playing at power. I've built an empire, both in the light and the shadows. I've crushed men who dared to cross me."

His words send a shiver through you - fear and unwanted desire warring within. You try to push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

Andy chuckles darkly. "You have no reason to be as long as you don’t cross me."

He releases your wrist only to cup your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "And here's the thing - I don't want you to fear me. But make no mistake - you are mine now. This is your life."

With lightning speed, Andy spins you around, pressing you face-first against the door. His body cages you in, one hand still gripping your wrist while the other slides up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, but asserting control. You gasp, your heart racing as Andy's lips brush against your ear. "The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

His hand tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make breathing a conscious effort. You should be terrified, should be fighting to get away. But your traitorous body responds to his dominance, a rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

"Andy," you whisper, unsure if it's a plea or a protest.

“You'll be my wife, my partner. But you need to understand your place in this world we're building together."

He releases your throat, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through your sweater. You arch into his touch involuntarily, earning a dark chuckle from him.

"That's it," he growls. "Remember how good we are together.”

Andy's hand kneads your breast as his lips trail hot kisses down your neck. Despite your anger and frustration, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your skin. "Let go of it all."

His free hand slides down your body, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. You know you should stop him, should push him away, but the heat of his body against yours, the skilled touch of his fingers, makes it hard to think straight.

Just as his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, there’s an insistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the phone even as his fingers begin to work the slick lips of your cunt.

“Yes?” he prompts.

You can hear every word without the phone being put on speaker since Andy’s pressed up against you.

"Mr. Barber? The cars are ready for your lunch meeting, sir."

“Good. The future Mrs. Barber and I will be down in no more than ten minutes,” he says. There’s an acknowledgment on the other end of the line, and then hangs up.

Andy thrusts a finger inside you, making you gasp, before withdrawing his hand completely. “Go get changed,” he says, “you heard, we have our next appointment and need to be on our way.”

You're left breathless and frustrated as Andy steps away, his warmth disappearing from your back. Your body trembles with unfulfilled desire, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him, to beg him to finish what he started.

"Andy," you begin, your voice husky with need.

He cuts you off with a sharp look. "We don't have time. Go change. Now."

The command in his voice sends another shiver through you. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to finish what he started. But the ice in his eyes tells you it would be futile. With shaking hands, you button your jeans and smooth down your sweater.

"Fine," you say, trying to inject some venom into your voice.

You turn and head towards the stairs, feeling Andy's eyes on you the whole way.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues Part 14

"Here's to hoping I'll fall fast asleep tonight

And I'll just need to get through this

Born in the darkness, who brings the light?

And I just, I need to get through this

Or just get used to it"

Beyonce & Willie Jones – "Just For Fun"

A.N.: Content Warning(s): 18+. Mentions of violence and religion.

Celeste groaned and rubbed the back of her head where she hit the floor. She ached all over and didn't want to open her eyes just yet. Maybe if she kept them closed, she could pretend everything in her life was normal again.

"Duchess…c'mon cousin, wake up…"

Micah's voice floated above her.

She opened her eyes and coughed. Her stomach still hurt from where Mia punched her. Celeste rolled on her side and covered her face. Micah shook her shoulder.

"We have to get out of here," Micah said.

"And go where?!"

She glanced at her cousin and the once warm rich hues of his brown face had drained away to a pallid coloring. How much blood had he lost?

She rose and stared into his hollow eyes. Fear and shame reflected back to her in equal measure. She glanced around the wrecked sanctuary. It looked like World War III had blown through the church.

Micah touched his wound.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"I don't think he pierced any vital organs…the bleeding has slowed down. I'm not outta the woods yet."

She stood and surveyed the damage. Father Mbenga's body and head were gone. A deep, mournful sound caught her attention from a pew. Celeste carefully walked toward the noise.

"My God," she muttered.

She found Gadreel curled on his side, one of his wings ripped off of his left shoulder completely. Dark orange clots of his vital fluid darkened the wound area where a hole now lived. The gargoyle leaned back, revealing his entire wounded body to her. His skin bore the marks of a severe ass whooping.

"The father of your child is a fierce fighter," Gadreel said.

Claw marks and missing chunks of flesh aside, the damage to his body wasn't lethal.

"I don't know why he spared me," Gadreel said.

Micah wandered next to her. Gadreel looked up at her cousin.

"Father Mbenga has been too unpredictable…erratic the last few months, Micah. We had the Daywalker in our grasp. But now…"

"I thought he was just under a lot of pressure. I didn't know he'd snap and try to kill us," Micah said.

Celeste glared at her cousin.

"How could you hide all of this from me?" she said.

"This work we do…Micah is under a vow of silence. He is a wetaderi…a soldier… for God," Gadreel said.

"What does God have to do with any of this madness?" she asked.

Gadreel laughed, his voice bouncing against the walls like shotgun blasts. Micah winced, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"It is a tale as old as the beginning of human time itself."

Celeste turned away from the gargoyle and fought to control her emotions and fear.

"I don't have time to listen to bullshit!" she shouted.

"You sound the way Mother Mary did so long ago," Gadreel said.

The gargoyle moved his mouth in a way that mimicked a very human smile.

Celeste cut her eyes at Micah. He watched her with a somber expression.

"Would you have believed me? Had I broken my vow of silence, risked years of moving in the shadows to reveal the truth to you…what would you have done? Called my mama and told her to collect me because I've lost my mind? There are two worlds, Duchess. The one you live in and the one I survive undetected among nightmares. You remember when Grand-mère used to tell everyone that I had the gift of second sight? Well…it wasn't just ghosts she was talking about. I can see things that shouldn't be seen. Supernatural beings count on humans living in ignorance. Growing up, I could see things that no child should ever have to know are real. I think you have the gift too, Duchess. Maybe not as strong as me…but you have sensitivities that draw energy to you. You attract people all the time, and even animals. Don't you remember people saying that animals, old people, and even children were drawn to you?"

"But you were the same way, Micah—"

"Exactly! We give off an aura of some kind…like a GPS signal… that breaks the barrier between worlds and attracts the supernatural the way magnets can pull iron to it. There's a light in you, and I'm sure it's why Terry latched onto you and maybe…other things have found their way near you."

"I've seen Terry's great-great-grandmother's ghost. She came to me after he left New Orleans. Now I know she was really his descendant."

"See? Did you think you were losing your mind for a minute?"

"Just a minute."

"When Terry revealed his true self, you probably didn't freak out as much as a normal person would've. The shock hit you and then you moved on to what mattered. Deep down, I'm sure you instinctively sensed something wasn't right about him or your relationship. The rational part of your mind may have even dismissed unusual circumstances because vampires are the master manipulators…and bay-bee…they can seduce humans like no other. But then they drain you…feed their unnatural bodies and move on to the next willing victim."

Gadreels's lips uncurled into a frown.

"Except, in this case…Terry didn't kill her," the gargoyle pondered.

"We fell in love," Celeste said.

"They are parasites. The only things they're capable of are hate for humanity and hurting others. Bloodlust is their core existence. You should be dead," Gadreel said.

"Yet here I am," she said.

The look in Gadreel's eyes gave her shivers.

"Something is wrong with that…just as something is wrong with you having the ability to carry a vampire's seed," Gadreel said.

He shut his eyes and shuddered. Pain coursed through him, and he groaned under his breath that smelled like raw meat.

"Micah, seek medical attention and then leave this place for good. The vampires who may have survived our battle tonight will hunt you down. They know your face… and your scent. Go as far as you can," Gadreel said.

Micah broke down in tears.

"I'm sorry, Duchess, I did my best to protect you and all the people in this city," Micah heaved out.

"I don't understand…can't gargoyles protect him at night?" Celeste said.

"The familiars and other minions will get to him before we can even discreetly intervene. He must leave and never return. I would suggest leaving the country if you can. The council may help with funds, but your life is in peril here. Go now…quickly. The feral ones heal quickly and might return."

"Is Terry alive?" she asked.

Gadreel nodded.

"He killed many and escaped. Some of his brethren are dead and some scattered. My guess is, he will hide until it is safe to contact you. Unfortunately, there are too many inbred packs and clans in New Orleans right now."

"That's why I called Father Mbenga to send word for help. He messaged as many of our contacts to send the gargoyles here. We had to wait for Terry to show up again. When he's around, the others flock to him. It's our best chance to kill the most vampires. They feel safer when Daywalkers are near," Micah said.

Gadreel choked and spat out a thick glob of bright, orange gargoyle blood that hit the floor in a liquid splat.

"There is a gathering taking place. Our spies and communication networks could not find the source that calls the vampires here in large packs. Something is in the wind and it does not bode well for humans," Gadreel said.

Celeste knelt down and kept her gaze even with the gargoyle.

"What are you really?" she asked.

"I think in your heart, you know."

Gadreel fixed his eyes on Micah.

"Micah, you must escape…leave now."

"What about you?" Micah said.

Her cousin's tone was full of distress.

"I will wait until the sun rises. Perhaps when the humans find me, I may be able to heal in my dormancy when they assume I am some strange statue that appeared in the ruins of this church."

"Terry might find you…and kill you," Micah whimpered.

Watching her cousin's eyes fill with tears, she caught on that these two had a long-standing friendship.

"That's what Daywalkers do…and why they are so precious to the clans. Don't weep for me Micah…you are named 'He Who is Like God' for a reason. Your dedication to me and the council has been admirable for the last fifteen years. It is time for you to escape a fate worse than my own."

"I don't want to leave Duchess. I have to protect her," Micah said.

"You've done all you can. Now she has to do the rest on her own. The Old Ones won't harm her, and the vampires will protect her. Right now, she lives in a sweet spot. She's the safest human on the planet until the beginning of next year when that child is born."

Micah hugged Celeste. Her emotions were ambivalent toward him, but she clung to his shoulders and shed tears for their predicament together.

"Celeste…please…don't keep this baby. You can have others later with a human. I don't want you to live the rest of your life on the run like me, but if you terminate now, we can figure out a new life somewhere, maybe in Mexico or Canada…West Africa, maybe. We always wanted to visit Ghana…connect to the motherland…anywhere, cousin…anywhere…I have enough money saved right now that could cover us for a few years until we settle somewhere far from here."

Celeste shook her head.

"I can't. Maybe if I knew the truth weeks ago…I could've done it…but now…I want to keep her."

"Don't be stupid. All you'll do is curse your life."

"It's my life…and hers."

"Micah, her mind will not waver."

Micah broke away from Celeste's arms and knelt down near Gadreel.

"Then you must stay with her, Gadreel. You can heal at her place. Celeste can revoke her invitation from him and you'll be safe from harm there until you're well. It'll take what, a few weeks for a new wing to grow back?"

"Micah! You can't put him in my house without my consent."

"I'm trying to save your life! If those vampires smell his presence, they'll think others surround you. They wouldn't even think of coming near your house again. Gadreel is your best bet. We can drive him in Terry's truck. Are you strong enough to walk?"

Gadreel nodded.

"I can't leave New Orleans until I know you're not alone in this," Micah said.

"What will we say to our family?"

"They all think I'm the chaotic bisexual with hot feet. I'll tell them I'm on a travel adventure with friends and will return when I feel like it. Don't worry about me."

Celeste glanced at Gadreel. Micah helped the gargoyle stand. He was over seven feet tall.

"He's dormant for twelve hours during the day. He can sit in your sewing room and you won't even know he's there."

Celeste looked the creature up and down.

"Oh, I'll notice him."

"Will you do it? Gadreel saved my life when I was fifteen. A feral vampire almost took me out when I was walking home alone one night after football practice. I owe him, Duchess. This situation is fucked up and I'm sorry you're in the mix."

Celeste took a breath. Life without Micah would've been torture when she was a teenager. He'd been her best friend and favorite cousin for a reason. She loved him more like a brother all her life. Now he had to leave home because he tried to help her survive.

"I'll do it."

Energized by her answer, Micah helped guide Gadreel out of the church.

"Wait, Terry had the keys," Micah said.

"His truck uses a keypad for the doors. He leaves the key fob inside," she said.

Celeste quickly punched in the code on the touchpad under the door handle. Micah lifted the truckbed cover and Gadreel squeezed his bulky body under it.

Celeste checked Micah's wound. He brushed her hands away gently.

"I'll go to the hospital and get stitched and make up a story there. Random stabbing. They'll believe it. Don't talk to anyone in the family about me. I'll notify them with my fake plans. Let the family grapevine fill you in later. I have friends in Atlanta I can go to first, and I'll couch surf until I settle further away. If you change your mind, head to our cousins in California. Word will get back to me."

They quickly hugged for the last time, and he went to his car. She watched him drive off as fresh rain fell down. Looking at the church, Celeste wondered how people would react to what they found later. She glanced around the empty street, feeling a quiet calm. Taking a chance, she ran back into the church and sought for the silver chained rope. She grabbed it and ran back to the truck.

Gadreel moved around in her cottage like a bull in a china shop. His large body appeared laughable sitting inside of Celeste's home. He looked around and sniffed the scents inside.

"He stayed with you here?" he asked.

"Yes."

The gargoyle looked at the pictures on her wall and then turned his attention to her French doors.

"His sentinel is here," Gadreel said.

The shadow was back.

Terry's shadow.

"Do not move," Gadreel said.

He inched closer to the doors and Terry's shadow jerked back, but stayed.

"What is a sentinel?"

"Daywalkers can use their shadows as an emissary to watch over their bodies when they are inactive…asleep. It is a built-in warning system of protection from vampire hunters…and the Old Ones like me. But this is an anomaly. He's using his shadow to protect you."

"From other vampires?"

"Yes, and from other night creatures that roam when humans slumber. I think I am beginning to understand why he left you…why you are still alive."

"Why?"

"Vampires have to feed. They can go three to four days without drinking human blood if they aren't able to secure regular food sources. Once bitten, other vampires will stay clear of you because you belong to another. If he stayed here long enough for his scent to be trapped in this house, then he must've been starving and left to keep from killing you."

"He would kill me? Someone he's supposed to love?"

"He is a vampire, Celeste. He cannot go against his own nature…yet he is doing it. Daywalkers need their shadows with them. He'll become weak without it. Your life meant more to him than his own. Revoke your invitation from the Daywalker. The shadow will return to him and he will no longer be welcome in this house. If you want to keep your baby alive and safe from my kind, then do what I say."

"I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Your cousin did for fifteen years. He was your closest confidante. If he trusted me with his life, then you should do the same."

"You want my baby to live? Aren't you supposed to murder her when she comes out of me?"

"You are a portal. All women are portals for life to come through. If you revoke your invitation, I will tell you how to save your child…let it be born human."

Celeste gasped and moved closer to Gadreel. Terry's shadow loomed over them. Even through the rain outside, enough moon and starlight kept it visible.

She touched her stomach. As a mother, she had the power to protect the little one inside of her, no matter who the child's father was. Celeste loved Terry. Her time with him had been special, but something instinctual and primal took over her mind. If her daughter had a chance to be human, she would do what it took to make it so.

"Terry…you are no longer welcome in my home. I revoke my invitation to be here. Leave this place."

Terry's shadow arms flew up, and it rushed toward the double doors as if it wanted to ram the glass. Instead, it disappeared like water being shut off from a faucet. Instant and abrupt. Celeste touched her chest and exhaled hard.

"Sit," Gadreel said, pointing to her sectional.

She sat down and he crouched down on his haunches, tucking his only wing flat against his back. The pink glow from her lamps gave him a surreal expression. Although he was scary looking, there was a strange handsomeness to his sharply angular face. If someone walked into her home, they would think she was holding a conversation with Satan.

"What I will tell you will determine the fate of your child. So listen to me well. Terry wasn't a human before he was born. His mother was a vampire. Someone I knew when we lived with God."

"What?"

Gadreel closed his narrow eyes and sighed.

"The Old Ones…we were the angels that followed Lusīferi when God cast us out of heaven. Lusīferi wanted the first man and woman to have free will, but God wanted to inflict predetermination. They didn't trust humans."

"They?"

"God is neither male nor female. God is not even their name. If I said it in the language of heaven, you would perish. Human ears cannot handle the power or the mere utterance of the word."

"In the beginning was the word."

"Yes. The word that started creation. It was God's name…God calling upon itself. Lusīferi—"

"Satan?"

"Lusīferi…when they were banished, they chose to become a woman for Lilitu. Some humans called her Lilith…Adam's first human companion."

Celeste jumped up.

"I don't want to know this…just tell me how to save my baby!"

"You are frightened. I understand. You have been led to believe one version of the creation and being confronted with the truth is unnerving. But you must hear it."

Celeste nodded and rubbed her right hand on her thigh out of nervousness. Gadreel clasped his hands together, his claws clicking against each other.

"Lilitu was unhappy with Adam, and Lusīferi gave her comfort. They became lovers, and Lusīferi turned Lilitu into a vampire like her. All of us who stood with Lusīferi became vampires. But several millennia passed and those of us who followed the daystar yearned to return with God. God told us we would have to fight our siblings for ten thousand years, and we did. Our wings were restored to us, but not our ethereal beauty."

"What does this all have to do with Terry? Get to the point, please. I can't take any more biblical parables. My life and my baby are on the line."

Gadreel ignored her and continued.

"Lilitu and Lusīferi fed on humans and ruled over the fallen ones who stayed loyal to them. But a thousand years ago, they parted from one another. They wandered the earth in separate places. No one knows why. But over two hundred and sixty years ago, Lilitu fell in love with a human man here in New Orleans. She fell pregnant with a child. Terry."

Celeste's eyes grew enormous. She slid down from the sectional onto the floor and tucked her knees into her chest.

"Terry was the first and only known vampire conceived with the seed of a male human. Lilitu did not want her baby born a vampire. She sacrificed herself so that Terry could be born human."

"How did she do that?"

"I cut off her head while she was in labor and left her body in the open so the sun would do the rest. She burned away, leaving a human child behind. When nightfall came again, I took the child and left him on the doorstep of the Guidry family who his father belonged to. People who didn't know of his bloodline adopted him. He was their actual family. Terry's father had stepped out on his wife with Lilitu…then sold their child away, not knowing what he had done."

"I can't believe this."

"You must. It was Lusīferi who rescued Terry from the lynching. Turned him back into something Lilitu never wanted for him."

Celeste burst into tears and covered her face, fully understanding what she had to do to save her own child. Kill Terry so that his vampire blood wouldn't taint the baby.

"He wants this child you carry, Celeste. He wants to be in her life. It's why he fought so hard in the church and killed so many…even his own kind who want you dead. Terry has turned away from his clan. Has done so for ten years. They need him, but if they can't keep him, they will take your baby and use her for their protection and my destruction."

"Why did you help his mother?"

"She was innocent. She'd been a human once. I wanted to curry favor with God and show him that humanity was worth fighting for. Purely selfish reasons."

"Then why did you follow Lusīferi in the first place?"

"I thought she was right so long ago. But on earth, she changed into someone I did not understand. Her hatred for humans turned into feeding on them to spite God and his creation. I tried to save Terry once before. Now I want to help his child avoid his fate. You must find him on your own and kill him. Only then will the baby live properly. Your blood bond with him connects you and the child. Break that bond and you will be free."

Gadreel stood and wandered into the sewing room. She closed the door behind him and rested on her bed. Normally she would pray, but would God listen to her pleas to save a baby born of fallen ones?

In the darkness, she wept.

For herself…her baby…and Terry.

Part 15 soon come...

Masterlist.

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl17

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@hrlzy

@theglamclosetsl

@liquorlaughslove

@teeresaresa

@cocoagadgetsworld

@mogul93

@helloncrocs

@dremmmm

@simplyzeeka

@pearlkitten33

@jas241

@leahnicole1219

@kaykay772

@juniperlovesstuff

@kingclementyne

@thickmadame

@onherereading

@daneiawrites

@hotgrlcece

@darqchilddaydreamz

@ariiijestertheklown

@blackerthings

@soufcakmistress

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Imagine being kidnapped by Tom Ludlow.

Hi anon. This got out of hand. I’m sorry. CW: mentions of child abuse/dark humor concerning it, rape/noncon fantasies and details. I write from a place of my own trauma, and it gets a little fucked up. If you don’t like dark fics, or are triggered easily, DO NOT READ THIS. Violence, bad cops, SA. Tom Ludlow is not the bad guy in this, though.

If you’re a big girl, a tall girl, a girl with a lot of muscle or fat, you probably haven’t been picked up off the ground since you were very young.

You question your femininity because of it, along with a whole lot of other shit that society decides to push on you for not having a traditional feminine figure…whatever the hell that is.

You often take on a more protective, mothering or masculine roll with your smaller or daintier or gentler friends. You don’t look down on them at all—or envy them too often. Some people just carry a unique tenderness that you wish the world had more of. But every little rainbow or sunbeam needs their strong protective cloud, and you mostly gladly, sometimes reluctantly take on this role.

You will never be a meek, kind, delicate person. It’s just not going to happen. You don’t want it to happen. You’re pretty comfortable with your role in life. It’s just…sometimes…and this is probably something that everyone craves in vulnerable moments…you want to be the one getting protected.

It’s just kind of exhausting, always being there for everyone else. As much as you love it, and you do, it can also really drain you.

The duality of man is that we can be more than one type of person, and want different things. You know this. But…it’s hard as hell to admit you want to be taken care of. Because doesn’t that ruin your tough facade? Your strength and independence? Doesn’t that let everyone know that you’re just putting on an act to cover up who you really are—a weak, sniveling girl?

That’s why you bottle up, keep things to yourself, regard the world cynically and humorously with a lazy shrug of your shoulder. You act like nothing gets to you, like you are a stoic guard at the queen’s gate, like a big mastiff on patrol of your sheep.

When you do wear an emotion, more often than not it’s either sarcasm or…anger. Like tonight, when some guy won’t leave your friend alone at the bar.

She’s visibly uncomfortable and attempting escape from the creep following her around. She’s too nice to tell him to go away, but you’re not, and you have had to put yourself between them way, way too many times.

“She’s not interested,” you tell him.

He sneers at you. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Except he fucking doesn’t, because ten seconds later he’s smacking her ass when she stands up, and you’re punching him in the mouth.

He hits you back, and it feels like a slap from a two year old, but it startles your fight or flight, and before you know it, your vision is blurry with rage and your fists are flying.

The security guards have to pull you off of one another and haul you outside to where the police are waiting with cuffs.

“He was harassing my friend,” you tell the guy who’s chaperoning you.

“Her ugly ass is just jealous cuz nobody wants her!” Screams scumbag from down the sidewalk.

Wow, you’ve never heard that one before.

One of the cops grabs him by the collar and says something that appears to be stern with his finger pointed at his face.

The guy looks visibly shaken after that, and he specifically avoids looking in your direction again.

The ballsy officer, probably in some sort of supervising position by the looks of it, gets to you next, and you have to crane your neck up to look at him.

You expect anger, but his face is neutral as he pulls a pen and paper from his utility belt. “Hello, ma’am, my name is officer Ludlow with the LAPD. You mind telling me what went on here tonight?”

You tick through the list of events as best you can, trying not to paint yourself as innocent (because with the way you beat on him, you’re definitely not), but making sure he knows what a fucking reprobate you were up against, and he scribbles it all down diligently.

After you’re done, he flicks his chin at the officer standing next to you. “Reed, let her go.”

They uncuff you, and you roll your arms, testing the circulation and rubbing out the raw red marks on your wrists. “Thanks,” you tell the lead officer. “You mind if I go back in and get my friends? There’s only three of us and I’m worried about them…”

“I can’t let you go back in,” officer Ludlow says, “but give us their names and descriptions, and I’ll send Reed in for them, alright?”

You nod, comply, and a few tense moments later Abby is running out to wrap her arms around your shoulders, smearing her glittery tears and pink blush on your jacket.

You hug her back, picking her up a little bit off the ground with the ferocity of your relief, and look at officer Ludlow over her head. “Thanks,” you tell him.

Tye, arriving from the thicket of people at the entrance a few moments later, immediately wants to know what happened.

She, however, is interrupted, by the asshole down the sidewalk, still in cuffs. “Hope you think of me when you see that handprint on your cute little ass tomorrow!” He calls, and Abby turns away, choking on a sob.

You’ve always had anger issues. Usually, in adulthood, they’re pretty easy to tame down. Not in this circumstance, not when you see Abby shaking and crying, looking as defenseless as a baby mouse.

Unbeknownst to you, because your sight and sound have been marginally narrowed to one person who needs his face bludgeoned in so hard that he finally shuts the fuck up, the head officer has already signaled for them to haul this guy into the back of a police car.

You’re not sure how you cross the distance between you and him so fast—you’re built for endurance, not speed—but suddenly your fists are connecting with his flesh again, and there’s a lot of yelling and pulling and finally your feet leave the ground and your knuckles leave his face.

It takes you a minute to realize you are being carried away—that your feet are not on land—and you look up at the person whose arms are currently wrapped around you.

Like mentioned before, it’s been a long, long time since someone has picked you up and you’ve lost your center of gravity so quickly and so thoroughly. Like a startled animal, you fight to try and get back to the ground, more out of shock and adrenalized fear than anything.

You don’t mean to scratch or bite the nice officer, you really don’t.

Ludlow just sighs at your resistance, like he could be doing something much more important right now rather than manhandling you into the back of a squad car like you’re an ornery kitten rather than a formidable opponent.

You are silenced into shock the whole way to the police station.

They put you in the waiting room sans cuffs, and you’re not sure how much time passes until a heavy presence plops down on the plastic chair next to you.

“Fuck,” is the first thing you say to Ludlow. “My friends…”

“They’re safe. I’m giving them an escort back home.”

He gives you some room temp water, and after the fear wears off, grants you enough time to come back to your good senses. You look at him sheepishly, with your head tucked down. “Sorry, he was a fucking creep.”

Ludlow nods. “I get it, hopefully I can get you out of it with a slap on the wrist.” He hands you some tissues from his breast pocket. “Wipe that blood off your face.”

You didn’t realize you were bleeding, so it’s a shock to finally feel the ache of a bloody lip and bruised cheek and see the paper come back crimson streaked.

After a few long moments of silence, you say, “I feel like an asshole.”

He shrugs, leans back, grins over at you. You fight the urge to flush at his crooked smile. He’s a handsome man. Sometimes you like those. “Asshole, no. Dumb, maybe. He could have really fucked you up.”

“I handled myself just fine.”

“Your split lip will disagree tomorrow morning. Lemme see.” He holds out his hand, as if for you to rest your chin in, and you’re not sure what brain malfunction gets you to comply. You are not a good listener by any means, especially for men in positions of authority or power.

Maybe it’s sexist, maybe it’s unfair. Spend your whole childhood getting the shit taken out of you by a man that’s supposed to love and care for and protect you, and then decide what’s fair and what’s not.

He whistles low, turning you this way and that with a tenderness you don’t expect from calloused, bear paw hands with knuckles like golf balls. “I’ll give it to you, you’ve got balls. Bigger than most men I’ve met.”

Your mouth betrays your tough girl facade, and lets a tiny smile hike up the edge despite the stinging pain that follows.

Officer Ludlow gets you out with a slap on the wrist—aka a misdemeanor—just like he said he was going to. You tell him thank you about ten million times for saving your ass, and for offering to give you a ride back to the bar to get your car.

“I’ve already put you out too much tonight,” you tell him. “I’ll get a Taxi or something.”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he says, jangling the keys in his beater pocket. “By the time you get to the bar, you’re gonna be towed. C’mon.”

You open the back door of his charger, but he shakes his head and, instead, opens up his passenger seat for you to slide in.

It’s about now you’re starting to get a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach, like something is off about this interaction. You’re not one to trust easily, and getting in the car with a complete stranger, although one in uniform, is out of character to say the least.

Your radar has really been fucked up tonight. By the alcohol, the scumbag, the being arrested, the bruising and tearing of your knuckles. What a way to end it, you think, if Ludlow is a bad guy.

The funny feeling in your guts that you decide to ignore this one time? It turns out to be right. And as Tom Ludlow starts driving up through the deserted hills, in the opposite direction of the bar your car is at, you almost want to burst out laughing at how stupid you are.

Asshole, no. Dumb? Fucking definitely.

You test his door handle and he snorts at you; like he’s saying, you think I’m that stupid?

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” you grumble, sizing him up from the corner of your eye, deciding whether to fight or flight or just give up now. He’s thin, but he’s broad. Tall. Not lanky. He won’t be easy to push over. You’ll have to bite, claw eyes out, rip his hair from his head. Make sure he doesn’t pull that shiny pistol out of his belt before you can jump on him.

You could do it right here in the car and risk barreling over the steep hillside on your right. You could—

“Hey,” he says, calmly, capturing you too easily from your violent thoughts, “it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

A part of you wants to believe him, or maybe just believe there’s still some good in the world—some good in men. Hell, maybe leprechauns exist, too. You never know.

He looks sideways at you when you giggle in response to these reassuring words, as if you’re the one who’s fucking psycho. “I’ve heard that one before.”

He makes a pensive sound, air puffing from his nostrils, switches gears as the incline increases. “Daddy beat you up?”

Well, fuck it, might as well share all your sob stories if this is really happening tonight. “Uncle, actually.”

“Sorry,” he says, and you hazard a glance over to see if his face matches his empathetic tone—it, surprisingly, does. “He still alive?”

“No.”

You must be violently shaking to compensate for the repression of a panic attack, because his still, steady hand on your shoulder pauses the tremors. “It’s okay,” he assures, like he’s trying to soothe a crying kid. You have to admit, his voice is a cool ointment for hot nerves, even if he’s the reason for them in the first place.

The brain has a funny way of dealing with things like this. There’s about a 30% chance his intentions are raping you, because with his looks he could get any lady in the city of lights for free, but rapists and molesters rarely think about physical attractiveness when it actually comes down to the act. Psychologists say it’s more about the power trip for them. And, at least, if he is going to fuck you, he’s not exactly the worst man that you could pick to do it.

At least he’s hot, is what it boils down to. Because you’re a disgusting degenerate. Because your coping skills are a ticking time bomb, a broken record, stuck back at the part of your life where you had to start liking the way uncle Eddy touched you to deal with the shame and the despair of it.

Officer Ludlow’s gonna pick you right up off the ground again, slam you into his backseat, tug your pants and underwear down in one go. He’ll make you beg him to fuck your pussy instead of your unprepared and untainted ass, use his spit as lube, rub his meaty fingers over your puffy lips and taunt you when his saliva encounters your slippery cum. He’ll smack your ass for liking this, leave big red handprints, whisper in your ear that you’re gonna remember him, not just tomorrow, but for weeks after he gets done working your cunt. That he should kill you and leave your body out for the flies, but he wants you to live just so you can feel the way he destroyed your pussy.

The charger slows to a halt out in the sticks, and you have no idea where the fuck you are or how long you’ve been driving. The night is thick black soup in a boiling pot, and his headlights cut through it meagerly. It’s enough light to see what’s happening ahead, though, and when you look over at him curiously, he is grinning at you.

The man from the bar who assaulted your friend is in cuffs, an officer on each arm holding him in place. You don’t feel bad at all when you notice his swollen lip and purple temple, but you do wish you would have gotten more hits in.

Lucky for you, Officer Ludlow has you covered.

“Do you want to hit him?” He asks, unclipping his seat belt. “Or do you wanna watch?”

You blink a few times in response, not sure what to say to this brutally kind gesture. This man who barely knows you is helping you exact revenge against his own brethren. You’ve never been so…flattered.

“Don’t tell me you’re attempting to grow a conscience?” He teases.

“I wanna hit him.”

To your disappointment, Ludlow is not a total savage. He lets you get 3 or 4—it’s hard to remember the exact number—good hits on this dirtbag, and even wraps your knuckles up in a cushiony flannel from his back seat beforehand. His only rule is, “stay away from his ugly ass face. I don’t need him coming back to the station more fucked up than it already is.”

You get him in the stomach, the ribs, kick him so hard in his dick that you feel the hard pelvic bone underneath. Maybe it’s only a couple hits, but you make them count. And when you start to ache, or get tired, all you have to do is remember the tears smearing Abbie’s pretty glitter eyeliner down her face.

If he does say anything to you, you don’t hear it. Or maybe he really doesn’t, because Ludlow stands behind you like a watchful wolfhound the entire time, and then escorts you back to his car with a heavy arm over your shaking shoulders.

“Good job,” he praises, seeming very amused and unaffected by this whole ordeal while you are trembling, soaked with sweat, panting like a hooker in a fur coat. “It’s alright, he had it coming. Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”

You do as he says, momentarily escaping your fury in favor of his calming voice and soft black eyes.

“You did amazing. Lemme see the knuckles.”

He takes your hand in his, and you notice the size difference first, and then the warm, damp, pleasant heat second.

There’s been a lot of firsts tonight: someone’s hands being larger than your own (big lady hands should’ve been your nickname in highschool), being picked up off the ground past the age of 7, a man going out of his way to do something nice for you—because your brain decides that’s how it’s going to frame this scenario whether you like it or not, as some fucked up little date on Tom Ludlow’s dime.

You feel safe with your hand tucked into his and the heat of his skin and the cozy intimacy of being belted into his vehicle. You feel grateful that good men still exist. You feel…tight, twisted up in some deprived box of longing you’ve made permanent home in.

You leave the sanctuary of your comfort zone, and have another first, as you cross his center console and kiss a man on his mouth.

For a moment where you feel like your heart is suspended on the edge of a very tall cliff, he freezes. This stiff resistance immediately makes you want to pull away, but, before you can, he wraps his hand around your chin and pulls you deep into his mouth.

Arthur from college, Monica from New Orleans…Hell, even Uncle Eddie—they have nothing on Officer Tom Ludlow with his big, slick tongue and muscular lips.

It’s so good you can almost ignore the fresh sting of your split lip.

He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, and murmurs a laugh when you give him a low groan for the effort, then takes your angry little grumble and dampens it with his renewed fervor. His hands remain gentle and chaste on your face, your neck, your shoulders, even though there is nothing gentlemanly about the way he devours your mouth. He does not push for more, does not hold you down with those big hands that absolutely could if they wanted to.

You set the pace, you pull him closer, you push him back when you need to gasp for air.

He licks the taste of you from his tilted, beautiful lips. “You have to breathe through your nose, honey.”

“Sorry,” you say, crossing your arms over yourself, pressing back against the door, away from him.

His lazy smile droops. “Are you alright?”

”I just…Can you take me to my car? If not I can—“

The thick start of his engine cuts you off.

The car ride back is silent. You think about turning on the radio a few times, but don’t want to cross more boundaries than you already have. Luckily, he flips it on for the both of you and you’ve never, ever been so happy to hear Metallica.

When he parks, cutting the engine off in the nearly deserted garage, the tension between you immediately peaks, sizzling like vinegar on baking soda. He wraps a long limb over the back of your seat, looks confused—vulnerable for such a big, scary man, and he makes your heart twang a lonely cord.

He seems almost boyish, when he asks if he can take you out sometime.

And you want to say yes. Every feral primordial part of you does, anyway. But then there’s the rational part, the one that should and does win most of the time. You’ve already snubbed that part too much tonight, so you politely decline Ludlow’s offer, and with your traitorous heart padlocked and chained back into your breast cavity, you say goodbye to the nice officer.

[sparrowrye]

Archivist's Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 2

Synopsis: Things aren’t so boring with Al trapped in the bunker with us…

Master List

Chapter 2: familiar and friendly

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor revealed as little as possible about himself and, to his amazement, so did you. For someone who had spent their entire life with the same two people--mother and grandmother whom you spoke of often--and now lived entirely alone, you were deceptively untalkative. He would have found it strange had it not been for the translation he found under one of the chairs a few nights ago.

You were an Archivist. Breaking you was not going to be easy.

He carefully broached the topic of Humanity but you were clever enough to turn it around, expressing a strong curiosity for how he viewed Humanity, which he was very much not inclined to share. So, he started asking you about your chores. You were certainly talkative about those.

Despite having been through worse, Alastor felt this experience topped them all.

For the first day, he could barely sit up on his own. He slipped in and out of sleep, his temperature went up and down, and everything felt uncomfortable. You forced him into a sitting position while you completed chores outside, occasionally slipping in to gently shake him awake. He wasn't allowed sleep until your chores were done and you were back in the bunker to watch over him. Admirable but oh so annoying.

The second and third day weren't much better and he was practically losing his mind. He could handle pain. He could handle discomfort. He could handle having to consciously breathe. What he couldn't handle was the absolute boredom.

Fortunately, you had a few puzzles and a crank radio to help him occupy this dreary life. He used the radio to play with the frequencies, hoping to reach someone. He could tune into the frequencies his team used to communicate but, without his staff, his words would fall in the depths of white noise.

He was confident the White Angels had taken his staff, and that would likely come back to bite him in the ass one day. It certainly would when he returned to Pentagram City.

Sleep brought little relief. His moments of sleep were shallow and short, often interrupted by a pain in his chest, shoulder, hip--everywhere. Then he would slip back into exhaustion only to be woken up by the same issues. It wasn't until the fifth day that he was finally able to fall into a deep sleep. And he hated it.

~*~

I scribbled in one of my journals at the coffee table with a blanket draped over my shoulders. Al was asleep on the couch, both hands clasped over his stomach and his ankles resting over the armchair of the couch. He looked so incredibly long whenever he laid flat like that.

It amazed me how much of him was made up of legs and long arms. His torso was all lean muscle and fur, speaking of an agile life and maybe one where food was scarce from the look of his waist and stomach.

I dragged my eyes back to my journal. I wanted to sketch him. Committing him to memory wasn't enough. I wanted a picture of him to hold onto forever, even after he left my bunker. The thought made my heart sink.

His ear twitched against the pillow. Then his arm. Then his leg. His breath quickened and his eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together as his limbs continued to twitch and jerk. He was having a nightmare.

"Al," I whispered, setting my journal down and creeping closer. I sat on the edge of the coffee table. I tried calling his name a few more times but when that did nothing, I leaned forward to touch his shoulder.

I barely grazed the brown fur before his eyes snapped open and his hands snagged my shoulders. The buzz of magic touched my spine as his lips pulled back in a snarl, exposing his sharp canines.

I pushed against his chest but he didn't let go. His eyes were wide and wild. He wasn't registering me.

I tried to drop to one knee but he followed. He arched off the pillows and dug his long nails into my shoulders, an animalistic, high-pierced shriek escaping his throat.

My hand on his chest curled into a fist and slammed upward into his chin, abruptly clamping his jaw shut. He reared back with a cry and I pushed him back onto the couch, tripping over his foot as I scrambled away.

I crawled back on my elbows as he shook his head, eyes returning to their normal state--something more human. He covered his mouth with one hand while the other gripped the back of the couch. He was trying to sit up by the pain from his chest injury was finally reaching him. He looked around then found me on the floor, my eyes wild with fear.

"It's...you," he croaked around the blood in his mouth. He looked around again before the pain rendered him useless and dropped him on the cushions. His eyes looked for me over the edge of the coffee table. "I didn't mean to--"

"I know," I said quickly, pushing myself to a sitting position. His partly pinned ears and sorrowful expression conveyed what he wanted to say.

I rolled to my knees and reached into a floor cabinet for the first aid kit. I approached him carefully, as if he would jump at me again. I sat on the edge of the coffee table as I pointed to his chest where blood seeped through the shirt. I had found the piece of clothing from a closet buried deep in the bedroom.

His jaw clenched, both in an attempt to swallow the blood from his bitten tongue and from the shame of attacking his one and only savior. Then he glanced away, unsure how to act next for the first time in his life.

"It wasn't you fault," I coaxed gently, moving to sit on the edge of the couch in effort to show I wasn't afraid anymore. He still didn't return my gaze. "Let me fix you."

Eventually, he relented and moved his hands off his chest. I grabbed the hem of his shirt but noticed the way his entire body went rigid and he drew in a sharp intake of breath. His ears fell further and the look on his face was...complex. I stopped and his shoulders relaxed a fraction.

Screw it. The shirt is done for anyways.

I grabbed the scissors from the kit and cut a straight line up the center of the clothing. He didn't tense this time but his eyes watched the scissors carefully. Not once did he look me in the eye as I cut through the soiled bindings to reveal the torn stitches. I was amazed at the stillness in my hands, even as adrenaline continued to pulse through my veins.

"Well, could be worse," I said on account of nothing else. "But maybe try not to levitate off the couch anymore."

He swallowed a mouthful of blood. "Noted," he muttered, a shadow of his usual humor slowly showing through. He kept his eyes evaded as I redid most of my work, cleaning the wound and restitching it in the lantern light.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I offered in the silence.

His face twitched when I pulled a stitch a little too tight. "No."

I was quiet for a few minutes, until the tense silence was a little too tense for the delicate work I was trying to complete. "Do you always bottle everything up?"

"Yes."

I sighed at the one worded answer. "Was it a memory?"

He glanced at me but when I tried to meet his gaze he looked away. Another short answer, "Somewhat."

"It's not like I have anyone to tell," I encouraged gently, eyes back on my work. "I wouldn't mind listening."

He grimaced at another prick of his skin. "What are you expecting from me? To unleash my demons onto you?"

"Well you did already," I said offhandedly.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" The gentleness of his tone, compared to the sharpness of his previous words, made me pause. I looked up. This time he was actually watching me. His eyes were intense but not unkind as they surveyed my figure.

"No," I said after a moment's hesitation. "Just...scared me a little."

"I didn't mean to attack you. I shouldn't have--"

"I know," I interrupted just as I had done before. "Fear makes us do crazy things. Blame it on the nightmare."

I finished my work then threaded the bindings around his torso like before. My hands began to sweat as I leaned closer to him so my arms could wrap under and around his back. His breath brushed my forehead, adding to the warmth already in my cheeks. It took everything in me to keep my eyes forward and focused on nothing in particular.

Thank heavens he's covered in fur.

I finished his wrappings, putting distance between us, then gathered all the remnants of the mini procedure. I stood but was stopped by a hand on my arm. I met his gaze and those beady red eyes pushed through my shields like they were nothing.

"Thank you," he said softly.

I gave him a small smile. "Try to sleep again. I'll sit at the coffee table for a while longer." For a moment, neither one of us moved. His eyes were like rubies glowing in the lantern light and I wanted so desperately to get lost in them. But alas, he peeled his fingers off my arm and watched me put everything away.

~*~

Death by boredom is a torturous fate, Alastor thought to himself.

He entertained a game of cards despite being unable to read them well without his monocle. It was a strategy card game and he was quite pleased to see your high level of thinking. He didn't think someone who copied books for a living would have good strategy skills.

Speaking of which, his eyes scanned the bunker once again in search of a clue or hidden door.

You were an Archivist, a rare and dying breed of historians. Long ago, during the Great Downfall, Humanity had built bunkers with hundreds of books stored away. A small collection of people were sealed inside with it, surviving for generations to keep the books safe.

As time went on and resources went thin, some of them resurfaced. When news got around that Old World books and technology might exist, they were hunted down all over the land. Some took the books for themselves, yet unable to read the ancient handwriting, while others burned the knowledge to erase a dark period of history.

You were one of the last surviving Archivists. But where was your library?

~*~

"You're stalling," Al said, his usual smirk growing the longer I took to make my next move. A card game was sprawled across the coffee table, as was an abandoned plate of apples.

I was on my knees at the table, eyes jumping between the board and the stack in my hand. My fingers had been jumping from one card to the other in an effort to look like I wasn't stuck on what to do next. Clearly, it didn't work.

"I'm strategizing," I replied. I didn't dare look up at that knowing smile I had grown accustomed to seeing. "Not that you'd understand Mr. play-the-first-move-that-comes-to-mind." I finally picked a card and put it down. We had taught each other different card games and this was the one I could never beat him in--even by a single stroke of luck!

Al hummed in place of a chuckle so as not to hurt his chest. "It's not my fault you can't predict brilliance." He picked out a card and tossed it onto the table, using magic to righten it in place. Such a show of magic wasn't uncommon for me to see. After all, I had some as well.

"Seems more like dumb luck if you ask me," I retorted as I scanned my cards again.

"I wasn't asking."

I let out a huff of annoyance. He rested his cards in his lap, completely unbothered or worried about the game. I tried to watch his eyes like before but he had caught onto my trick, fixating his eyes on me whenever he finished his play so he couldn't give any hints away. So, with another huff, I slapped a card down and feigned confidence. "How's that Mr. Walking-Ego?"

His red tipped fingers tapped his cheek a few times. "Not bad. However..." He withdrew two cards and floated them to their rightful place. I dropped my cards face down with a groan, smacking my forehead on the table.

"Come on," I whined, lifting my chin to look at him.

"Don't hate the player. Hate your lack of foresight." He reorganized his cards then settled them in his lap. Even with a gash in his chest he was still able to sit in a way that could only be described as elegant.

"You're insufferable," I grumbled. I lifted my cards to see if there was any hope of turning things around.

"And yet you keep playing me."

"For selfless reasons." I leaned back and put my hand on my chest dramatically. "Clearly my card games are not entertaining enough for you and so I suffer for your sake to keep you from dying of boredom."

He raised an eyebrow, smile widening. "How generous. But I will admit, I do enjoy it when we play this game. Not only am I slightly less bored, but I can also watch you suffer at my hand."

I scrunched my nose at him. "One, that's concerning. Two, you've really got this ego and self-confidence thing down, don't you?" I placed a card on the board.

He shrugged with his good shoulder. "Call it a gift, my dear. Though," there was a mischievous glint in his eye, "if you're jealous, I can teach you a thing or two." He put two cards down.

"No thanks. You're not exactly someone I want to take after." I put two down.

"What's there not to enjoy?" he returned the jibe. "You seem to enjoy my company quite a bit." He placed his last card down. He had won.

I dropped my cards face up on the table then leveled him with a half-hearted glare. "Until your ego shines through." I rolled backwards and sprawled out flat on my back. He mimicked me, carefully positioning himself on the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

"I am truly amazed you have survived this long. The boredom would've--"

"Would've killed you," I finished for him. "With so many chores to do after my mother passed, I haven't really had a chance to be bored." I turned my head to look at his bright red hair contrasting the dark, brown couch. "What was your mother like?"

A soft smile spread across his face. "Where do I even start? She was as kind as my father was cruel. She showed me the world and quickly became my world."

There was a heavy air of silence.

With as gentle of a voice as I could make, I asked, "Has she passed?"

"I'm afraid so," he admitted. "But her spirit lives on inside me."

"I've been meaning to ask, where did you learn to speak like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like...you speak very formally. Eat," I added, sitting up and moving the plate of apples on top of the card game. His ear flicked in annoyance but he used magic to drop a slice into his palm.

"I could say the same about you."

"Really?" I eagerly leaned on the coffee table, chin on my hands.

"Of course," he nodded. "You may use basic terminology but your speech is eloquent, intelligent even." After a moment he said, "And I find it quite refreshing."

I felt my cheeks warm as I smiled. "Oh...well, thank you. But you didn't answer my question."

"Which was?"

"Where did you learn to speak like that?"

His eyes pretended to scan the ceiling in representation of his mind. "I suppose you can credit it to the amount of books I read as a child. When I wasn't with my mother or taking lessons, I was in the library."

"A library?" I picked my head up.

"Indeed, my dear. My city has a communal library and I was eager to devour their words."

"What kind of books?"

"Some novels, some textbooks, and maybe two or three from the Old World." His eyes scanned my face for a reaction but I hadn't noticed, too wrapped up in his words. "I could never read them," he chuckled at himself, "but I enjoyed holding them. As if I were holding a piece of history."

I suddenly became aware of my display of interest. I collected myself and responded in a more subdued tone, "That's pretty neat."

Had I not been messing with my fingernails, I would have noticed the sharp glint in his eye. It dulled a moment later as he changed the subject, "What of your father?"

"I never met him."

"Ah, that's unfortunate."

"Yeah. But my mother says she chose carefully that night and I should still be proud of who I am."

The answer scratched his brain in a funny way. He rested his hoof on his knee. "How did she meet your father? Did he stumble upon your bunker like I did?"

I shifted uncomfortably and tried to force myself into a relaxed position at the table. "She uh...she went...she went out to find him."

There were several heartbeats of silence. He noted my tone and posture. "I take it there is an implication?"

I breathed out through my nose. "Yeah...she uh...it's a family tradition to uh...find a suitable person to...father the child. Then...come back to give birth alone." A spot on the coffee table was suddenly the most interesting thing I'd ever seen.

"That's rather...unfortunate." He examined his claws as his mind pieced things together.

After a minute of awkward silence, I lightly slapped the table and stood up. "You could use some fresh air and a bath."

"Is that an insult I'm sensing?" he teased.

"If you take it as one." I opened one of the floor cabinets to pull out a few towels and a bar of soap in a cloth bag. There were still three more and I hadn't even used half this bar yet. The oils and roots had been perfectly blended by my mother before she passed. "But eat first."

After I successfully forced him to eat the apple slices, we made his first trek out of the bunker. We stood in the center of the alcove for several moments to let our eyes adjust to the bright afternoon light, even with the brambles overhead.

Al accepted my help as we climbed the hidden footholds to the surface. Once he was up, he allowed me to tie a ribbon to his eyes, never once making a complaint about it. I carefully touched his hands and let them curl around my hand. His grip was strong yet kind, and the muscles under his skin and fur felt firm. The feeling made my heart skip and a beat.

"Shall we be going?" he prompted. I stuttered an apology then started walking, telling him when an obstacle required him to pick up his feet. He easily stood a head taller than me and his arms and legs were ridiculously long. A single step of his required nearly three of mine.

The White Angels had long disappeared from the abandoned city, meaning I didn't have to worry too much about any unwanted visitors. So I brought him to a small river that eventually lead into a larger one which marked the end of my land. We were up on a hill which gave me a birds eye view of the land beyond my borders.

I kept my back to Al while he undressed and splashed the cold water over himself. I could hear his grumbles about the temperature and kept my giggles to myself.

My eyes scanned the treetops for any signs. I couldn't see their white feathers nor a smoke signal from their campfires. Had they left this oasis? Had they explored further? Were they being discreet on purpose? Were they waiting for him to come out? If they couldn't find a body than that meant he was still out there. Had they given up or were they pursing to a degree I wasn't expecting?

"My dear," Al called quietly. I turned my head just enough to show that I had heard him but still gave him privacy. "I'm afraid...I may need your assistance."

"Oh that's terrible!" I put the back of my hand to my forehead. "Whatever shall you do?"

"Quit your antics," he snapped. "I can't reach my hair. I would prefer to leave it be but my scalp feels like there's things crawling in it."

I laughed. I definitely knew that feeling. "Of course. Mind if I turn around now?"

"You may."

I turned around and forced my eyes to latch onto his, ignoring the way his fur dripped and stuck to his chest, as well as everything lower than that. Fortunately, he had a towel over his lap.

He held the bar of soap and I took it, feeling the burn of his palm on my knuckles. I helped him onto his back with his head on the edge of the grass like my mother used to do for me. I splashed water onto his hair and used my other hand to keep it from falling into his eyes.

He kept a hand on his chest as he breathed, a habit he had developed since I stitched him up a second time. I suds the soap in the water then gently scrubbed at his hair.

Why is my heart racing?

Several times I had to wipe the back of my hand on my cheeks so the cold water would cool the blush. It didn't help that he was obviously staring at me. I leaned back at one point to figure out where he was looking and was surprised to find them locked on my eyes, not my breasts. He made some kind of funny comment but I didn't respond, going back to rinsing out the soap.

It was more difficult to wash around his broken antlers. Hair tangled around the bone and it wasn't soaked enough for the soap to actually be useful. He tensed when I reached his ears. I was gentle as I rubbed the tufts between my fingers, amazed at the muscles I could feel under the black and red fur. Every time I let go of an ear, it flicked.

I felt less embarrassed about the whole ordeal when I noticed his eyes were closed. Was he enjoying this?

What would my mother think?

I squeezed out the water in his hair then helped him sit up. I told him to get dressed then quickly went back to my lookout spot, crossing my arms and digging my nails into my arm.

Al would need to leave as soon as he could. But...what about before that? My mother had picked my father because he was intellectually smart and known for getting out of difficult situations. He likely had good genes and I was the product of that. Al...he was smart, funny, and careful with his words. There was plenty he wasn't telling me that I didn't want--didn't need--to know.

I covered my mouth.

My mother had had plenty of conversations with my brother and I about continuing our legacy. He had been the lucky one because she spent more one on one time with me explaining pregnancy and birth, two things that sounded absolutely dreadful to handle alone. I hadn't even considered it since she died. It was supposed to be a process that involved at least one other person to help. It was supposed to be her but then--

"Are we ready?" Al asked. I turned to find him dressed in more unfamiliar male clothes from storage, a towel draped around his neck to keep his damp hair from soaking the new shirt.

With my mood promptly soured, I tied the ribbon over his eyes and led him back through the trees. I held his wrist this time, opting to avoid his warm hand. He was quiet during the walk, not even daring to give a tease. He was likely reading into my subtle cues. It was both a blessing and a curse that made things even more upsetting and complicated.

Once inside the bunker, he promptly fell asleep on the couch, completely spent. I crept into the bedroom and dropped my head in my hands, fingers pulling at my hair.

I didn't want to be the one making the adult decisions. I didn't want to make any decision with consulting my mother. It had taken me a full year just to drag myself out of my grief to fly to the nearest community for supplies.

She was supposed to be here to guide me.

But she wasn't.

I grabbed the quilt my grandmother patched up and curled up on the floor so I could keep Al in view. I let a few tears fall then did what I always did when I was grieving: sleep.

~*~

Alastor waited another two days before attempting anything.

He had noticed your sudden mood change and wondered if he had done anything particularly wrong or if it was something more internal. He was quiet the following day before attempting jibes, teases, and innocent questions the next. He was relieved when you gradually came out of that quiet--almost depressive--shell you had put yourself in. You were back to your normal self by the third day.

How long had it been since he arrived? A week?

One late morning, after you both had breakfast and another game of fuzzy cards, Alastor feigned exhaustion. He laid down and pretended to sleep, keeping his body still and his breathing as even as possible. He had hoped you would unlock whatever secret door that lead to your library but you instead left the dark bunker to finish more chores. He waited a few minutes before standing up.

He ran his hands along the walls of the bunker, waiting for his claws to catch some kind of latch, lever, or dip in the metal. He was running out of time.

He gave the bunker one more look over before giving up and laying on the couch. Maybe you were a division of the Archivists? Or maybe you just happened to know the Old Language and found Old World texts to practice on?

That wouldn't explain the tradition of your mother going out to get pregnant and not invite the father back to the bunker. You often spoke of your mother and grandmother, so maybe this was a female Archivist group? That still didn't explain your lack of Old World books.

He put himself to sleep this time. The frustration was making his chest hurt as much as his head.

~*~

I stoked the logs in the stone fireplace in the center of my alcove. The sun was setting but there was still enough daylight left to finish cooking dinner. When using the dinner fire, I had to be mindful of time so the smoke from the fire didn't turn into a fire signal at night, though the brambles and trees helped keep that from happening.

I set a pot to boil on the stones then went back inside to dice everything up. Al was laying on the couch, hands resting on his stomach but playing with a piece of yarn he'd found in between the cushions. It must've been from when grandmother used to sew our clothes on the couch.

I washed my hands in the sink then quickly rinsed the vegetables. I turned to dice them on the counter but nearly jumped out of my skin when Al suddenly appeared in front of me. I lost a few carrots and scrambled to pick them up.

"My apologies, dear," he suppressed a laugh, "I hadn't meant to scare you." He picked up two carrots by his magic then placed them on the counter with the rest. "Might I help?"

"I-It's okay, I can handle it." I reached for the knife but he placed a hand on the handle of the blade. Our eyes met.

"I fear boredom will kill me first before my chest does," he pleaded. I tried to answer but my eyes were too busy trailing up the length of his arm and up to his ear that twitched slightly when he caught me looking at it.

He picked up the knife and reached for one of the vegetables, and I stepped aside to let him stand closer to the counter. He held my gaze for a little longer, that smug smile making my cheeks flush, then finally looked down at his work. His movements were slow but not inexperienced--telling the tale of someone who had some amount of practice.

"You've done this before?" I asked.

Without looking up, he replied, "Do I appear as the type to have a maid?"

"N-no, I just...I was...no," I finished more firmly, then held my sweaty hands behind my back.

His smile widened a touch. "My mother taught me. She was adamant that I know how to feed myself. Even if it went against my father's wishes."

I nodded silently, watching from my corner spot between the counter and the sink. My eyes roamed his figure from hooves to antlers. A smile cracked on my lips at the sight of his red tail. He had snapped at me last time I mentioned it, so I never said anything about it after that—clearly a sensitive topic for him. Part of me wanted to touch it but that just might kill him.

He had healed surprisingly fast for someone who had as severe a chest injury as he did. Though there were a few times I could feel him using magic and guessed he was trying to heal himself. It always made the hairs on my arms stick up and sent a fuzzy feeling down my spine. I wasn't well versed in my small amount of magic but I could tell he had a lot of it.

His red eye glanced at me. My breath caught in my throat and I ushered myself out of the bunker to check on the pot. I dropped in the chicken meat then crossed my legs, chin in hand. I poked the fire with a stick as my mind started to wonder.

My mother had told me I needed to find someone to father my child before I reached twenty-six, the age where childbirth became complicated. I had three years left and I was already scared about giving birth alone.

There was the option of finding another Archivist for help but I didn't know where to even begin looking for one. We all kept our bunker locations a secret, even from each other to keep the archives more secure.

Another option was to give birth in a community. I wasn't sure if I would even have the right materials to trade for such a service, unless another woman gave pity on me.

Or...

Our legacy would die with me and the books would need to be burned before my passing.

I fell on my back and stared up at the bramble. During my teenage years, I had dreamt all the time about going on my own adventure; I dreamt of traveling the world and speaking to hundreds of people; I dreamt of sharing knowledge to help Humanity rebuild itself to its glory days, and this time it wouldn't fall.

However, once my grandmother died and my brother was no longer with us, those dreams promptly died. Life grew rather dull as I worked beside my grieving mother. She was lost without my grandmother and the dreams in her died too. There were a few times when we forgot about our grim destiny, and were able to enjoy a fun filled day in the woods. But every night, the cold bunker reminded us of our job.

There was a strong part of me that was curious to know more about Humanity's past through my translations—I wanted to know more and piece history together. The other part, however, wanted to give up and burn the books with me inside. Surely the afterlife would bring more relief; if only I could die without the guilt it brought.

I had three years left to continue my legacy. Did I want Al to be the father or risk searching for another one? He fit all the criteria. Was I ready to do such a thing?

Most books made it sound like a chore to complete, meanwhile others—novels I had first practiced my translations on as a kid—made it sound like something intimate and sweet. Did he know how any of it worked? Surely he did if he came from the outside world.

Speaking of whom, the man brushed through the vines to the bunker carrying a cutting board of diced vegetables. I accepted the board then brushed them into the pot.

He sat across from me with his back against the wall as I placed the lid over the ancient pot. I started playing with the fire again to give my eyes something to do other than stare at him. Though that didn't stop me from trying.

"Is there something you wish to say?" he prompted, drawing his eyes from the fire to look at me.

"What?" I stiffened. "No. Why?"

"You've looked at me thrice in the past minute." His smile turned smug as my eyes widened.

"No. I'm just...bored."

"You're bored?" he teased. "Great heavens, I knew it was possible."

I scrunched my nose in response. I went back to the fire, lighting my stick under the hot logs then blowing it out, only to do it all over again. My brother and I used to come up with secret games before our mother snapped at us not to play with the fire.

Eventually my neck hurt—and he caught me staring a few times—so I abandoned the stick in the fire and sprawled onto my back. I ran my fingers over the mossy carpet and took a slow, deep breath. My mind wouldn't turn off. And it made his presence even more apparent the more I thought things over.

"Why do you stay here?"

The question caught me off guard. I turned my head to look at him, finding his eyes downcast at his hands.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean what I said. Why do you stay here?"

I was silent for a long moment. "Because it's home?"

"You could have a far more interesting life." This time he met my gaze. "You could be around people. You wouldn't be cooped up in an old bunker. You wouldn't have to ration your own food and craft everything you need. Yet you stay here...alone."

I gave a light scoff. "And go where?"

"Anywhere." With you.

I looked up at the brambles. "I wouldn't know how to survive or how to even start a life out there. Down here, I know what to do." It wasn't a genuine answer but it was the closest I could get to the truth without revealing it.

"I could help." One of his ears quirked sideways in a way that only happened when he was awkward or uncomfortable. "It's not nearly as hard as you may think."

I rolled over on my stomach. "Sounds like you're trying to convince me to run away."

His smile turned less awkward. "Maybe I am."

I smiled softly, then glanced at the moss. I rubbed my fingers across the earthy carpet, my mind spinning in all different directions. Then, without thinking, I asked, "What if you stayed?"

He seemed surprised. "I suppose...that's an option. Even if it isincredibly boring here."

"My apologies," I mocked, "I didn't realize I was so boring to you."

His chuckle was deep and I suddenly didn't want him to stop. "Now now, I didn't say you were boring, did I?"

"No," I answered, flipping over on my back again, "Just the way I've lived for the past twenty-two years. And mind you that you're the one who barged into my home uninvited." An air of silence hung between us and I feared I had insulted him.

I didn't hear him move.

One moment he was sitting against the stone wall and the next he was leaning over me, one hand on the other side to keep him propped up. His red eyes glowed in the dim shade his hair had created, curtaining down the side of his face in an unruly—but attractive—way.

My breath grew shallow. "What?"

I flinched when his fingers brushed my cheek. "You've spent so much of your life hiding away," his voice was as gentle as the thumb rubbing the top of my cheek, "Building walls and strapping spears on them so no one could get close." His fingers crossed over my eyes to brush aside a loose strand of hair. "Would you ever allow anyone to get close?"

My hands fisted my shirt as I shook my head mutely.

He shifted closer so our hips were touching. His eyes roamed my face, taking in every curve and imperfection.

"Would you let me?" he whispered.

I nodded.

The edges of his smile lifted, and he moved so he was resting his forearm just above my shoulder, leaving nothing but an inch of space between our chests. I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

"I could take you with me."

My heart skipped a beat. "I...I have to stay here."

His fingers traced my eyebrow. "Then perhaps you could take a vacation." He traced the other eyebrow. "I could show you the world. And bring you back before curfew."

My throat felt dry as I swallowed. "I...don't have a curfew."

He trailed down the bridge of my nose. "All the better."

His fingers reached my lips. They parted slightly at his touch and he ran the pad of his finger across the soft skin. He did the same with my bottom lip, eyes flickering up to mine to read my expression.

The heat in my cheeks was nearly as hot as the fire. I curled my toes and squeezed my shirt until my entire hand turned bright white.

He leaned closer, our chests finally touching and making it even harder to breathe. His eyes were so pretty—pretty like a red ruby; a jewel; a rare prize. He radiated heat all over, from his chest to his breath, and my body eagerly sucked it in. Could he hear my heartbeat? Or was that his?

"May I?" he murmured. I barely nodded, as if fearing he would suddenly draw away if I moved too much. I didn't even know what exactly I was agreeing to but it felt right.

He finally closed the last of the distance and, with infinite care, pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft, like nothing I expected, and my senses were flooded with the taste of smoke and cinnamon. His lips were just as soft and perfectly big, wrapping me in a warmth that seeped into my lungs and down my legs.

When he pulled away, he rested his head on my forehead. Our eyes met again. I tried to keep my breathing under control but it just sounded like I had been running for hours. My hands hurt from my holding my shirt so tight.

"Am I convincing enough?" he asked softly, humoring seeping through his words.

I pressed my lips in a tight line and swallowed on nothing. My voice wavered as I said, "You...you really have this self-confidence thing down, don't you?"

He lifted his head and it felt like he was pulling my soul with him. "It served me well, did it not?"

Before I could answer him, the fire singed from the pot boiling over. I scrambled under his arm and removed the pot from the fire, grateful to have something to do. I put it on the stone next to the fire so it didn't burn the soft moss.

"I'll get us bowls," I tripped over my own words as I hurried into the bunker. I pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside. I grabbed two bowls but had to put them on the counter before I practically collapsed on the ground, arms wrapping around my legs and pressing my mouth into my knees.

I couldn't breathe, the pounding of my heart shook my body with every beat, and my lips burned. I bit down on the fabric of my pants as I struggled to understand if I was excited or afraid of what just happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

I'm trying to go for much longer chapters than in Demi Demon. Hope you enjoy.

And expect a new chapter THIS SUNDAY in honor of Thanksgiving!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers

[wingedshadowfan]

and this isn't to say that caitlyn never wanted to become commander, that she didn't have a choice in it or that she was always planning to turn on ambessa. and I'll look into those points separately because they don't undermine her decision in that moment.

1) caitlyn wanted to become a commander bcuz she didn't know what it'd mean and what it'd be like. she probably arrogantly thought she had more control over the situation and more independence from ambessa (her little house kiramman guide she opened with the key she inherited), that she could easily and quickly catch jinx and send her to stillwater or kill her and "any still loyal to silco" without stirring anything in zaun. she didn't expect that nobody in the undercity would know where tf jinx is (stuck in a cave taking care of isha), and that she'd become a symbol of the resistance in the meantime so people would... resist. caitlyn didn't want to hurt innocents but her hands were tied if she wanted to catch this incredibly unstable, violent and dangerous individual who'd attempted to blow her up twice, kidnapped her and asked vi to kill her (we still don't know what happened to caitlyn before vi got there but she hasn't been the same when it came to jinx since), she blew up her mother and half the council and presumably also ruined the statue ceremony and rallied the undercity against piltover. so don't hit me with the "why did she want to kill jinx" or say she was in the wrong for it.

2) there are always choices.

but this was admittedly a hard one and no one seems to have sensed the implications of ambessa taking the rains - her being the person on the inside for the zaunites who ruined the statue ceremony, salo wrapped around her finger calling up the most influential families in piltover, and her, counselor mel's literal warmonger mother (the epitome of authority) who gave her piltover to rule over, holding a speech that basically said "you will declare martial law against zaun rn bcuz i say they're threatening you. you will employ one of yours as a commander (and i'll choose who it is) and i'll generously lend them the resource of my army (making them dependant on me, directly controlling and green-lighting their every decision and breathing down their neck) to fight this war" and then everybody starts beating their chests, including caitlyn's own people. picture it: you've just lost your mother and had her statue ceremony turned into a massacre, your gf chose the incredibly destructive psycho killer who killed your mother and almost killed her and you a few times (after offering to kill jinx herself and telling you to "take the shot"), and this incredibly destructive psycho killer? very much still on the loose. what do you do? everyone's watching. waiting on you to be "a pillar of your community", "decorated officer, leader of house kiramman", the daughter of a deceased counselor. what do you do?

3) she always wanted to turn on ambessa

i think 1) sums up why i don't think she had that intention since the start + the fact that ambessa isn't a random person, she's an incredibly powerful fighter, influential in politics, tactical in war among other things and caitlyn probably thought highly of her and wanted to learn from her (them sparring) before having to work with her up close where she had the chance to see ambessa was unnecessarily brutal and ruthless, had a general disregard for the law when pursuing her goals, was sneaky and manipulative (this even maddie seems to sense because she kept reminding caitlyn it's her call, which, in a vacuum, would've been true). it's literally an idealist cop and a pragmatic warmonger, of course they wouldn't work well together. this tension betw the two of them has been building up for however long the time skip was. because caitlyn is the other face of ambessa's coin in some ways - she's also tactical, knowledgeable, but she's lawful, merciful, has a strong moral compass, etc

⚠️arcane s2 act ii spoilers⚠️

"caitlyn switching sides immediately when vi calls her cupcake again" "caitlyn double crossing her mentor ambessa out of the blue" "caitlyn and vi haven't talked or seen each other in months" "caitlyn randomly changing her mind" SHUT UP

if singed didn't manage to get warwick out his way (which would've still likely made warwick go berserk causing casualties and/or even losing the remainder of vander), ambessa's army of trained warriors, because notice there weren't any enforcers w/ them, would've raided a village of pacifists who don't have a single weapon, in order to catch and tame a monster that can and has turned a dozen people to bacon in minutes undoubtedly to employ it against other innocents (which caitlyn never wanted happening btw, even in her pursuit of jinx and her personal revenge, she thought it was taking too long and being too violent and destructive, which we saw caused tension betw her and ambessa), not to mention caitlyn called singed a monster and we don't quite see her changing her mind after seeing the dead daughter he does animal testing in order to immortalize, she'd alr confronted ambessa for her and her himbo's methods (warmongers not following the lawful procedures, who's surprised), and if in the midst of me potentially spying on ambessa and her people vi of all ppl falls from the sky to say this "monster" is her dad (considering caitlyn is still deeply grieving her mother and has been under the impression vi's dad is dead) and that the village prophet will turn him to a man again (effectively neutralizing a potentially uncontrollable and very severe threat) like i'm sorry but if i was caitlyn and had to act immediately under a time crunch, i'd also go straight to "here's where the guards are placed, i'll walk you in as a hostage" it was the perfect moment to betray ambessa to diverge attention (and it would've worked if jayce hadn't blown a hole through viktor's chest, which i'm actually not exactly blaming him for doing to a eugenics enthusiast) - w/ the help of vi and in the urgency of needing to figure out how to save all those people by herself (and in the undercity too bcuz it's a relatively neutral ground and caitlyn can't go quite back home after this unless she kills ambessa or smth) and why couldn't she have done it before? the stakes weren't as high before and she also couldn't do much against ambessa in piltover without a single capable counselor left (despite everyone telling her "it's your call" it's never that simple in politics)

and even if you took the complete opposite stance and argued that caitlyn doesn't love vi anymore/never truly did bcuz she hurt her, pushed her away, got a rebound and became authoritarian (which isn't a hill you can easily die on if you consider literally any other outside influences on the situations and relationships in arcane imo) guess what? none of these things matter for the decision caitlyn had to make (and vi likely didn't tell her jinx was in the village too)

[rosylamb]

I thought I’d speak a little more about my father today as I feel ok enough to do so, and I’m ready to talk more now.

Simply put : my father has Parkinson’s disease. He’s had it since I was small — I haven’t known him without it honestly.

Parkinson’s is a neurodegenerative disease that affects dopamine-producing neurons. It gets progressively worse with time until you eventually lose the ability to walk, talk, and perform most basic functions.

Parkinson’s patient brains also produce ‘Lewy bodies’ which are unusual clumps of protein alpha-synuclein. This leads to ‘Lewy Body Dementia’ which my father has as well.

I have always known this is how it would be. It has been a long time watching him get worse, and it accelerated quickly the past year.

I really can’t say how awful this disease is.

This is why he has in hospice as I mentioned before.

He’s never complained in all the years though. He’s suffered greatly, and still remained kind, gentle, uplifting and full of faith in God. Always grateful even on his most painful days.

(This is how he has always been. I’m so proud he’s my father — I hope I’m even half the person he is someday)

I had a difficult discussion with his nurses recently. It’s been hard to process. I think my mother is struggling, and doing poorly with the news so I will speak little on it. (It was hard to write this as well) but I wanted to be up front about things.

Because there are some truly kind people here, and I would not wish anyone to feel hurt or worry by my quietness ♡

If you’ve prayed, wished me or my father well, or shared kindness I appreciate it sincerely, give a warm hug, and thank the Lord for it!

You are not being ignored — I have just been distracting myself here or often do not have the energy or mind to speak. I hope you understand ♡

Thank you again for all the warmth and caring I’ve received; even if I don’t say anything please know it still lifts my spirits and means much to me! Wishing love and comfort to you today ~ please take care, sweet friends ♡

[the-ellia-west]

HOW TO WRITE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION FOR DUMMIES

For anyone who wants to learn, (especially aro/ACE, aspec, ect.)

Requested by the lovely @darkandstormydolls

Alrighty! Welcome back or welcome to my blog! I'm dipping my toes back into the category of posts that gained me my exposure!

So if you're here, you want to know how to write romantic attraction/romance!

Strap in and let's begin!

(Pls spread this to people you think would benefit from seeing it, or anyone who requested it bc I forgot, ANY ASPECS)

Step one -

Your characters must admire one another at the beginning, Romantic feelings usually do not present themselves as obvious until you really think them through, meaning your characters may not notice they have a crush until it's too late

These are general statistics and light stereotypes. So feel free to not use this tip:

Male characters usually tend to notice physical things first, like body shape, hair, skin, clothing, the way their lover moves, ect

And Female Characters Generally tend to notice more small things and personality-based traits first, like their lover's humor, speaking mannerisms, shifts in expression, ways they fidget, emotion in their voice, ect.

And someone who is in love will generally show more interest in this particular person's movements, actions, words, and anything in general.

Step 2 -

The character will show more interest in sharing their love language with their lover/crush

Physical touch - People with physical touch love languages may want to hold hands, cuddle, hug, or just lean on their crush whenever they are close to them moreso than they want to with others

Gift giving - Gift givers will want to get more gifts more often for their crush, probably thinking of them whenever they see little trinkets or wanting to get them big gifts for special occasions or signs of appreciation

Acts of Service - Acts of service people will offer to do extra favors and a bunch of extra stuff they don't have to do twice as much as normal

Words of Affirmation - Flattery, they will generally flood their crush with kind words and compliments

Quality time - Quality time people will want to spend time with their crush at almost every turn, and when they want company, will turn to their crush first

Step 3 -

After a while, these urges while become very prominent and more noticeable to the person having them

They may find themselves fantasizing about their crush or having them show up in their thoughts more and more, feeling nicer and happier when they're around, or when they're thinking about them

Smiling when they think about them, cutsey little fluff thingies like that

A crush is essentially: I want to date that, I want to be near that always, I want to marry that, I want that to snuggle me (or other love languages)

Or in simpler terms: if that asked me out, I would say yes (or at least want to say yes if your character is in denial)

Step 4 -

The character's urges to be close to this person grows strong enough that they do smth about it, whether prompted by another character. Or they just don't know I how to not anymore (like when you wanna eat candy and you don't want to, but you do anyway bc I JUST NEED THE CHOCOLATE OKAY?)

(Or for Aro/Ace, garlic bread)

People who are in love are generally very prone to be all dreamy and poetic and VERY EXTREMELY BIASED towards their crush

Then Yada Yada they kiss & shit

You're welcome, BYEEEEEEEE 👋

Happy writing!

Love you! Thanks for reading, And Ghost Tumblr Mother says go drink some water and have a snack, you've earned it, and you are beautiful <333

Have a good day! :]

@blue-kyber @thisisntrocket @cosmolumine @i-do-anything-but-write @paeliae-occasionally

@supercimi @the-letterbox-archives @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @artsandstoriesandstuff

@corinneglass @wyked-ao3 @urnumber1star

[aphrodeiities]

ᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴏɪᴅ ʙᴇʟʟᴀ [695]

follow for more content <3

get a chart reading done!

❦  asteroid bella [695] is an asteroid that means beauty, how and where you value beauty. this asteroid is also about your beauty on an energetic level, and how it manifests and shines.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 1H/ARIES ⟶ very in your face beauty, sharp and very bold. strong features, cheekbones are strong. head might be prominent even forehead. can value beauty a lot and even chase it. can even chase compliments. embracing sexuality, and very bombshell type of beauty. nice body and even chest. might have a beauty spot on their face or body.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 2H/TAURUS ⟶ can value beauty a lot. can only feel valued when they feel beautiful, very earthy type of beauty. like garden fairy or nymph type of attraction. very good singers, could like to kiss a lot. might buy a lot of beauty and self-care products. very feminine beauty, makes the people around them calm, and can have a really nice scent and voice.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 3H/GEMINI ⟶ the girl next door type of beauty. my friend's "sister" or like the school crush. could never see them again type of beauty. could either be careless about their beauty or could be very anxious about it. they could be the type of people to care about the trends, influencer type of essence like leah halton and can be a charming person, very flirtatious. could look similar to a relative.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 4H/CANCER ⟶ looking like your mother type of beauty, could have nice chests and cheekbones, the "i want to make you my wife or baby mother " type of beauty, beware of trappers! many beauty spots especially around chest area. classical type of beauty, like old hollywood. luscious hair and mysterious type of essence, classic television type of beauty, childhood crush and very sea mother type of energy.

♱ ASTEROID BELLA IN 5H/LEO ⟶ youthful but glamorous type of beauty. curly/big hair like starfire type of beauty. nice posture, could pose a lot, very 2000's beauty, not y2k aesthetic specifically. born for the spotlight, gold highlights and being a superstar type of essence. "i think you're famous" or "i think i've seen you before" type of beauty. stuck in your mind. could have beautiful children, creative and expressive style, many colours or dramatic makeup.

♱ ASTEROID BELLA IN 6H/VIRGO ⟶ classy type of beaut, might look for trends you could fit in. clean girl type of beauty; can chase beauty and could strive for perfection. "office girl" type of essence, glasses and cosplaying as another identity. wants to be better than other people, others could feel judged around them. work crush type of beauty. other people could envy your looks.

♱ ASTEROID BELLA IN 7H/LIBRA ⟶ temperance card/angel type of beauty. approachable, looks like a kind person, reminds me of the type of girl you would see in a perfume advert. light colour palette. flowy hair could be straight, can be very hip when it comes to their beauty, "she's like a rainbow" type of beauty, from the song she's a rainbow by the rolling stones. very beautiful people, could be known for that, and might take care of themselves all the time and could care of the opinions of others too much. could look nice in suits.

♱ ASTEROID BELLA IN 8H/SCORPIO ⟶ striking beauty, like a vampire. van helsing/dracula's brides. or like form interview with the vampire. could intimidate other people, other people would want to know your secrets. embracing sexuality and putting dark make up on yourself with white eyeshadow, it reminds me of alexa demie and gabriette. dark hair, luscious, big fur cat, wide and sharp smile, more succubus than siren.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 9H/SAGITTARIUS ⟶ another very in your face type of beauty, colourful beauty, might be fetishised, "exotic beauty", very catchy beauty; ambiguous as well. golden skin, type of holiday romance type of crush, can look good in a variety type of make up, especially blues. dimples and a lot of beauty moles, very nice hair, the attractive person in an air port. the type to be everybody's type. easy-going energy, makes other people laugh, and their humour also makes them attractive.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 10H/CAPRICORN ⟶ another classic beauty, being a model type of beauty. slicked back hair and up do's. type to influence other people with their styles, strong and sharp features, either jaw, cheeks or eyebrows. can look good in either muted or bold colours, women in suits, intimidating beauty, cares about how they look. another indicator of work-crush type of beauty, are known for their attractive features, could have a nice body as well.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 11H/AQUARIUS ⟶ very other-worldly type of beauty, alien, mermaid and fairy. the type to rock every outfit you wear, creating trends and could gain fame on the internet because of your looks. being eccentric makes you liked by other people, could be the friend crush, or you crush on other friends. could also manifest to your friends friend having a crush on you. "i did it first" type of beauty, like make up trend other people might find weird in the beginning but as time passes they would follow it.

♇ ASTEROID BELLA IN 12H/PISCES ⟶ mystical beauty, past lover type of beauty. "i think i know you from another life." haunting and siren beauty. like a ghost, has the type of essence that'll make other people want to drop everything for you. but could chase compliments/people. others could envy your beauty. glamour magick type of attraction. could be watched a lot, can draw people in easily. people could stalk you because of your looks. could remind other people of the fae, could be the one that envies other people.

masterlist

get a chart reading

♇ pluto

[entitled-fangirl]

A perfect match indeed.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: the reader is forced alongside her father for a hunt, pestered by him to consider accepting a betrothal offer.

Masterlist

...........................................

"Lord Tyland," Y/n mused as she looked to the Lord.

Tyland turned and smiled warmly to the girl, "Princess, I did not expect your presence at a hunt."

"Well, I'm a woman of surprises."

"That you are." He looked around at the various tents and the men that walked around the camp. The princess was one of the few women there. "Do you hunt, your grace?"

"Hmm? Oh." She picked at her fingers, a nervous habit she had no doubt picked up from her mother. "I have before but… father has dragged me alongside him this time, I'm afraid."

"Unwillingly?"

She hummed. "In the name of 'betrothal opportunities'."

His face flushed, "My." He cleared his throat in an uncomfortable manner. "Any… any men catch the eye of our princess then?"

She shook her head as her eyes scanned the crowds. She sighed. "None at all. I'm afraid I'm not interested in such affairs." She looked back up to Tyland. "Father tried this with my elder sister years ago, didn't he?"

Tyland stuttered over his words, "I… I… Yes, Princess… yes, he did."

She huffed, "Perhaps he'll always be cursed to have strong Targaryen women encircling him at all times, for I will not be doing his bidding."

"I see it more of an opportunity to choose for yourself. He's giving you this as a freedom."

"Some freedom," she mocked.

"Careful, your grace. He is merciful for this." He sighed. "Not many fathers give their daughters such a chance. Just consider it."

"Fine. But… I will not actively search it out."

"And that's enough."

…

"No!" She yelled as she stood in the middle of the tent in front of her father, King Viserys.

"My daughter," he commanded softly. "Do not yell at your king."

"Father, I wish for the freedom to live as I see fit," she tried to reason.

"Well, that is not your right. Your right is to serve the crown, and you have yet to do so."

"I may only serve you by bearing the children of a random lord?" She scoffed.

"I am not going to send you to war in armor that would hang from your frame," he scoffed back, his tone becoming annoyed and biting. 

At this point, various people in the tent began to stare.

"Oh, you'd rather have me close my eyes and merely point to a lord and fuck him?"

Viserys tilted his head challengingly, "Exactly."

She let out a mocking laugh in shock. "Fine," she snorts. "I will do so."

She marches from the tent, confident that her father would follow her. 

She looked out over the sea of men around the tents. "I will do it."

Viserys' challenging look grew, "Very well."

"I…" She faltered a moment, expecting him to give in. When he didn't, she huffed and covered her eyes with one hand. "Then… then I will."

Her arm rose up, her index finger pointing.

"Him."

A hum came from Viserys. 

"Alright."

She pulled her hand from her face and dropped her arm.

She spun around to speak to her father, but he was gone and a voice boomed from inside the tent.

"My daughter has accepted a betrothal to Lord Cregan Stark!"

Y/n's eyes widened incredulously. Her head snapped over to the direction she had been previously pointing in. 

She was met with equally wide dark eyes. 

Cregan Stark stood stiffly outside of his house tent, his sword almost dropping from his hand. 

The two barely heard the cheers from inside the tent as they just stared at one another. 

Finally, she broke the contact, turning and moving into the tent. 

She dodge and swerved around the various people that tried to stop her to give their congratulations. 

She caught up to her father, whisper-shouting, "What are you doing?"

Viserys turned, "You stated your intentions, and so have I. Stark is a wonderful match. I could not have made a better one myself."

Otto Hightower stepped in, "Your grace, it is a perfect match indeed."

"I thought we were jesting with one another. I do not want to marry him."

"It is too late for that," Viserys mused. "You're now betrothed to the Warden of the North."

She remembers him in small details from the Stark family visits to King's Landing. But they were just children then.

Since then, she had heard rumors of the man. Brutal. Harsh. A formidable enemy as cold as the Wall. Rumor has it, he could hack a head clean off with a single swing of his sword.

What a betrothal indeed. 

…

She had avoided Stark the entire day, not missing the way his eyes would follow her any time she stepped outside of the tent. 

Mortified from her actions, she gained little sleep that night. 

…

The day of the hunt, Y/n was on edge. With little sleep and a horrid feeling in her gut at her father's insistence of the betrothal, she clicked at her horse, sending it into a light trot and moving past some of the other riders. 

She recognized the Stark hair, pulled up in a messy updo and she rode passed him with no motion of resistance. 

She could feel his eyes on her. 

And when one of the men remarked something quietly about the fair-haired Targaryen princess, she heard the rustling of Cregan punching the man in the arm harshly. 

"I do not understand the true action of a hunt like this," she said when she rode up next to her father. 

"It is about adrenaline! Men live for the chase!" Viserys exclaimed excitedly from his horse. 

"But it is an entire band of men against one animal. How does that bring about adrenaline, Father?"

Otto quipped beside them from his horse, "It brings fellow huntsmen together. 'Tis better than gossiping in the tents with the women. Gossip does nothing to bring food to the table."

"If you truly do not believe women to appreciate this, then why was I forced to ride alongside?"

Viserys grinned, "You're to speak to your betrothed."

She let out a low chuckle and looked up at the clouds, "You are… truly to be the death of me, Father."

"Give the boy a chance."

"He's not a boy anymore."

"Even more reason to try."

She sighed and looked over her shoulder to see him, noticing his eyes were already on her.

"Get to know him just a little. For my sake," the king finally reasoned. 

"Fine."

She pulled the reigns, steering her horse from the group. She rode back down the band until Cregan moved to pass, and she quickly righted her horse next to him. 

He was a bit thrown off from her actions but made no move to show it. "Princess," his deep voice acknowledged.

"Lord Stark."

The corners of his lips quirked up, "Have I done something, your grace?"

"Hmm?"

"Have I done something?" He repeated. "You've made no motion to speak to me until now. I hope I have not offended you in some manner."

Of course he was a fucking gentleman. 

She shook her head. "I… I just thought that perhaps I'd give you a chance."

His head tilted, "A chance, Princess?" 

She bit her lip in thought. "I wish to know you better. That is all."

"Ah." 

The two rode in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say to one another.

Finally, Cregan broke it. "What do you wish to know then, Princess?"

"Tell me of Winterfell."

He leans back in his saddle with a smile at the mention of his home. "Where to begin? Perhaps it will not be as interesting to you as you live in the Keep, but…" He tilted his head back and forth, "It's warm. Quite warm, despite the biting cold that lives outside its doors." His smile grew as he looked at her, "And I shall keep it warm enough for the Dragon blood that will be within its walls, I promise."

She chuckled lightly at that. "I shall depend on your word then, I suppose."

"If I may," he questioned. "Why did you accept my proposal?"

"If I am being entirely honest to you, Lord Stark, I did not know that you had made one until we were already betrothed."

He hummed, taking in her words. He looked back to the path. "That is perhaps a blessing and a curse."

"How so?"

"I did not expect a Targaryen Princess to accept a Stark betrothal and therefore I… I did not try very earnestly."

Her brows furrowed, "How is that a blessing?"

He smirked as he looked at her, "Cause it wasn't memorable enough for you to recall in this moment. I have not embarrassed myself completely."

She nodded along with his words before a thought came to her. "Do you not wish to marry me, then?"

"I never stated that." He was quick to defend.

"But you-"

"-I am honored that I am yours, Princess. Do not think differently."

She felt like she could get lost in the dark eyes of the Stark of the North.

.....................................

A/n: There will def be a part 2

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne

[nebulaafterdark]

At The Pleasure Of The Crown

Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon and his wife regularly visit the silk streets. One night they happen upon Aemond behind one of the curtains, the rest is history.

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, smut, infidelity, manipulation, etc.

It begins in the pleasure house, when Aegon tears back one of the curtains to find his brother. Nude and curled around one of the women.

“Haha,” Aegon points, “Aemond the fierce.”

Even the guardsmen there on Aegon’s behalf, shift uncomfortably as he begins taunting his brother. Though none of them will say as much.

“Stop it, you awful man.” Y/N bats at her husband.

He catches her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “Awful man?” Aegon muses, “that’s not very nice, my only love.”

“You are mean.”

Aegon frowns, “not to you.”

“You should not be mean to your brother either.”

“Are you truly angry with me?” He asks, releasing her wrists to twirl a bit of dark hair around his finger.

“Yes,” Y/N pouts.

“Please, say it isn’t so, my darling girl.” Aegon wraps his arms tightly around her, peppering her face with kisses. “I adore you.”

She says nothing, sighing against him. Stroking the stubble on his chin.

He chases her finger with his lips, “forgive me.”

“Be kind.” Y/N insists.

“Of course,” he nods, “I will be on my best behavior. I swear it.”

Y/N kisses his lips once in parting, shooing him away.

“My wife,” Aegon says to the crowd of men, “she is better than I deserve.” He stands, holding the curtain back, “I will miss her dearly.” Aegon pulls himself away, “now, a round of drinks for all; at the pleasure of the crown!”

Y/N smiles, with a shake of her head. “Might you excuse us?” She asks of Aemond’s company.

“Of course, your grace.” The older woman nods, taking her leave.

“I apologize for Aegon. I do hope you were finished, at least.”

Aemond says nothing.

“I’ve given up the opportunity to bed a woman to be here with you.” Y/N tells him, “let no one say I do not treat you fairly.”

“You should go to her. My brother does so love when there are two of you.”

“At least I’m loved.”

“He loves you to the fullest extent he is capable.”Aemond understands well. “What suprises me most is that you allow these behaviors.”

“Aegon is who he is, we can choose to either love or loath him for it.” Some people are born with sadness sewn in.

“Why love him then, if it is your choice?”

“Why do you come back to this place for comfort?” Y/N purses her lips, “why does anyone?”

Aemond stares blankly, awaiting an answer.

“Because it’s what we know. My late grandsire, the king, insisted it was my duty to keep Aegon contented. I have performed my duty.”

“My father has been dead for years now, with your mother seated peacefully upon his throne.” He hums, “you don’t strike me as a woman content forever unchanging.”

Y/N makes herself comfortable on the silk sheets, lying fully clothed beside Aemond, in all his glory. “I am content.”

He continues staring, studying her, allowing gentle hands to brush hair away from his face.

“Do you like to be petted?”

“Do you enjoy drowning in cups? Or is that another of my brother’s interests being forced upon you?”

“Aegon’s never forced me to do a thing.” Y/N admits, “he lives only to please me.”

“I will say that must be true, considering he does not have a hoard of bastards in the fighting pit.”

“He is careful.” Y/N confirms, “he told me once that our children were kissed by the gods because our love created them. He is particularly rigid about moon tea, even with his favorite ladies.”

“For once, my brother and I see eye to eye.”

“And where, on this matter, do you differ?”

“If you were my wife, I would not allow you here. You would scarcely see the outside of our chambers.”

“You would lock me away?”

“I certainly would not leave you alone with him, in a room at the pleasure house.” Aemond drawls.

“Aegon believes our bodies are naught but vessels for pleasure and of course, producing heirs. He holds little interest in who warms my bed, so long as he is the only one to know my heart.” Y/N explains. “He is fiercely possessive over it.”

“That is what I would desire most from you.”

“We would never lie together?”

Aemond sighs, “we would. Every hour. Until you were molded in the shape of me.”

Y/N swallows, harshly.

“That is the way I would love you.”

————————————————————————

Y/N makes her way down to the library, on nights she cannot sleep. Happening across Prince Aemond, who she’s scarcely seen since that night in the pleasure house. He lazes about one of the chairs, with a large book in hand.

Y/N thinks at first, she best not disturb him, but as she passes, he stares up at her. “What are you reading?”

“The anthology of serpents.”

“Is it any good?”

“I am reading in the hopes of finding sleep. It works best if the subject doesn’t interest me.” Aemond drags a finger along the edge of the page, flipping to the next.

“Right.” Y/N sifts through titles on the shelves.

“Have you read Aegon’s journal entries?”

“My husband keeps a journal? This is news to me.” Aegon’s never had much fascination with literature.

“The Conqueror.” Aemond clarifies.

“Of course,” Y/N shakes her head, “Aegon the Conqueror.”

“It’s a good read, in-”

“Three parts,” Y/N nods, “I’ve read them all.”

“Do you come to this place often?”

“Nearly every night.” The princess confirms.

“Always alone? Or accompanied by your husband?”

“A-alone.” She stammers, “I am often alone.”

“That is unfortunate.” Aemond hums. “Mayhaps I might find you here again.”

He does, of course. The next night and the night after that.

“Is it more comfortable with the eye patch on, or off?” Y/N wonders, having spent a fair share of time staring at him both ways.

“It makes little difference. The covering is mostly for the comfort of others, namely my mother. She was always quite saddened by the sight of it.”

“The sapphire is beautiful.” Y/N clears her throat.

“I’m glad you approve of your brother’s work.”

Y/N taps a finger against her wedding band as she speaks, “Lucerys is a gentle soul. It is not in his nature to attack viciously. He must’ve been very frightened.”

Aemond stands abruptly, leaving without a word. What could she know of what transpired between them that night in Driftmark? She was off nursing Aegon as he drowned in his cups.

Y/N returns to her apartments, finding comfort beneath the covers, she is nearly asleep when the door opens.

“What are you doing in here?” Aegon squints at her.

“I went to your rooms first, my love.” She yawns, “you were not there.”

“I need you in my bed.” Aegon tells her, “I need you always.”

“And you shall have me always. Come lie with me.” Y/N pats the space beside her.

Aegon strips down to his small clothes and joins her beneath the covers. “I thought you’d left me.”

Y/N sighs, passing a hand through his hair as he rests his head against her chest. “Why would I leave you, Aegon?”

“Because I am not worth staying for.” The words are muffled in the fabric of her nightgown.

“I love you.” Y/N reminds him. “I will not leave.”

————————————————————————

Y/N and Aemond spend many a night reading, seated across from each other. Though he was not thrilled about their conversation concerning Lucerys, Aemond never misses an evening.

They discuss their findings, when there is anything of interest in the history pages.

“I happened across this passage here,” Y/N plops the book unceremoniously into Aemond’s lap.

“Mmm,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably, “there goes the family jewels.”

Y/N covers her mouth with a hand. “Forgive me.”

“Mayhaps we might try something different this night. If you’re up to it.”

Y/N takes his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her out to the training ground. “I am not trained by the sword.”

“I could teach you.” Aemond makes for the wooden training blades. “They will not cut you, but it is not pleasant to be struck.” He warns.

Y/N reaches out, grabbing the hilt. Testing the weight of it in her hand.

“Widen your stance.” Aemond tells her.

Y/N shuffles her feet apart, “like this?”

“Close enough.”

Her dark brows furrow in concentration and when their swords meet, Aemond relishes in the little grunting noises she makes.

“Ao vīlībagon olvie sȳrī syt mēre qilōni knows daorun hen egros.” You fight quite well for one who knows nothing of the sword.

She smiles, “bodmagho nyke skorkydoso naejot tatagon ao hen.” Teach me how to finish you off.

Aemond chuckles, “do not tempt me, girl.”

Y/N lunges for him, an untrained hand against the master, leaving herself exposed to his attack.

He uses the tip of his sword to lift her chin, “I win.”

She swallows, batting it away. “I want to go again.”

And so they do, until she is spent. Collapsing on the ground, as though he’s truly run her through with the blade. Aemond finds this more amusing than he lets on.

“Up,” he demands, “you will make a mess of yourself, rolling around in the dirt.”

“I will surely bathe after our activities, you needn’t worry.”

“Do you need me to carry you back to your apartments then?”

“After a while.” Y/N grins, resting a hand beneath her head as a makeshift pillow to gaze up at the night sky.

“What are you doing?” Aemond hovers over her.

“See for yourself.” Y/N insists.

Aemond grumbles, taking a seat in the dirt before fully reclining. “The moon?”

“The stars,” Y/N tells him. “When I was a girl my mother would point to the stars and ask what we saw in them.”

“To what possible end?”

Y/N shrugs, “entertainment, I suppose. Or gods forbid, fun.”

“What do you see?” Aemond asks, turning his face toward her.

“Well, just there, I see a hound.” Y/N points to a cluster of lights.

“A hound?” Aemond cocks his head to the side, following the line of her finger.

“Can’t you see?”

“Not at all.” He smirks.

“What do you see then?”

“A crown.” Aemond tells her.

“Where?” Y/N shuffles closer to him, hoping to see.

“Beside the sword.”

“There is no sword.”

“And I say, there is no hound.”

Aegon stumbles out towards the pair, listening to them bicker. “What are you doing?”

“Looking upon the stars, my love. Come lie with us.” Y/N waves him over.

Aegon smiles, indulgently. “Alright.” He joins them on the ground, opposite his brother, Y/N in the middle. “Not very comfortable, is it?”

“The sky is beautiful, is it not?”

Aegon blinks at it once, before turning back to her. “You are my moon and stars.”

Y/N rolls atop of him, kissing the expanse of his face, ten times over.

Oh to be so loved.

Aemond withdraws, prepared to take his leave.

“Goodnight, Aemond.” Y/N calls after him.

With a shake of his head, he calls back, “goodnight.”

————————————————————————

Aemond will never admit the amount of times his brother’s wife dances cross his mind during the day. He does his best to distract himself.

The sound of laughter travels down the hall, from their children’s rooms. Aegon is not much, in his brother’s eye. But even Aemond cannot deny fatherhood suits him.

“And then, from the sky, a big scary dragon swoops down to claim its next victim!” Aegon flaps his arms, parading around like a fool, as his children scatter. Giggling and hollering all the while.

Their youngest son runs to Y/N for protection.

“Come, my dearest love. I will save you.” She smiles, taking the little boy into her lap.

Aemond stands in the crack of the door; watching the scene unfold.

Princess Y/N grins from ear to ear as her husband gallops over, enveloping her in his arms.

“Oh no, mother! You’ve been eaten by the dragon.” Her daughter laughs.

“And I am still hungry.” Aegon smiles, turning his attention back to the eldest children.

Aemond turns away, continuing down the hall. Mayhaps he does want children. Mayhaps he wants them with her, but such things are foolish to desire. So he refuses to.

————————————————————————

“How do you get your hair so straight?” Y/N wonders. “It used to have wave to it, like Aegon’s.”

“From the looks of Aegon’s hair he could do with better hygiene.”

“Be kind,” Y/N chides him. “He has beautiful hair.”

“If you want access to trade secrets, you must allow me to speak freely.” Aemond challenges.

“I love Aegon.”

Aemond nods. “Of course”

“And that is fine by you?”

He smirks, “you’ve only now thought to ask?”

“I had not thought so much of it before.” She admits, “but now it is all I can-”

“If it is my permission you seek to continue loving your husband, I have overstepped.”

Y/N bites her tongue.

“I doubt he is asking whores for their blessing to go on loving you.”

“I wish only to be fair to you.” Y/N searches his eye.

“From the moment you pulled back the curtain in the pleasure house, you have been unfair to me.” Aemond tells her, “made my heart ache for you, made me long for you, then left with my brother when you were through. It did not seem to bother you then.”

“I did not mean for this to happen.”

“I believe that is true. You are not wanton for the suffering of others, but sometimes these things happen.”

“I am finished, if you’re angry with me.”

“Has no one been angry at you before?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Then, I am honored to be the first.” He brushes a kiss to her cheek. “Before you go, I have something for you.”

Y/N swallows.

“Turn around.” Aemond murmurs, reaching into his breast pocket.

Y/N does as she’s told, catching only a glimpse of glimmering metal before it meets her skin. Clasping at the back of her neck.

Aemond walks her toward his mirror, brushing dark hair over her shoulders so she can see it properly.

“Why give this to me now, if you are angry?” Her brows furrow.

Aemond traces a finger along her collarbone. “You will find that people are multifaceted. We have imperfections and sharp edges, but we are a direct reflection of the light shone upon us.”

————————————————————————

The necklace is beautiful, enough that even Aegon takes notice. Raising the subject in their chambers unlacing the back of her dress. The material falls free, pooling at her feet. Leaving only her shift and small clothes, which soon meet the same end.

“That is a lovely necklace, darling girl.” He runs his finger along the glittering blue jewels, hanging above her breasts. It looks familiar to him, though he cannot say why. His wife is often dripping in jewels he’s gifted her. There is no way of remembering them all. “Was it buried at the back of your jewelry box?”

Y/N smiles, bringing his hand up to kiss his fingertips and then place them upon her breasts. “It was a gift.”

“From whom, my only love?” He forces a grin, kneading the fleshy mounds.

“Aemond.”

No. A blow directly to his gut. He nods, giving the peaks of her breasts a tug before letting them fall free, sensitive and aching. “Upon the bed, my heart.” He smiles.

Y/N returns the gesture, sitting at the edge of the mattress.

“Lie back for me.”

Y/N does as he asks, allowing her legs to fall open, out of habit.

“Good girl.” Aegon drops to his knees, pressing his face to the altar and begins to pray. Every cruel word spoken against him does not exist here. He is safe between her thighs, with gentle hands carding his hair.

He would spend hours there, if she let him. Ignoring the bite of overstimulation to soothe his need for her. His jaw aches, working her writhing body through one peak to the next.

“Fuck,” Y/N sobs. Fighting the urge to press against his head for reprieve.

Aegon takes her hands in his, knotting their fingers together. When he tires of all her squirming, he trails kisses up to her pretty face. Nuzzling her nose with his own as he thumbs away tears.

Y/N sighs, contently. Relaxing enough to calm her breathing.

Aegon lowers his face to her breasts then, rolling and plucking at her nipples until they stand at attention. Sucking them between his teeth, laving his tongue over them until they too are sensitive. He leans up, pecking one final kiss to her lips before heading back to her cunt.

He spreads her legs wide, until her outer thighs rest on the mattress and his hands grip the insides firmly. “I am not finished.” He whispers.

Y/N whines, covering her face with both hands.

“I will be gentle.” He hushes her. “So, so, gentle.”

She cries out at the feel of his tongue lapping her folds. Everything ablaze.

He draws one last peak from his dearest love before he is satisfied, leaving her a quivering mess. “I want another child.”

Y/N nods, willing to give him anything.

“Turn around for me, up on your knees.”

Y/N rolls onto her belly, pushing up on her elbows and knees.

“Poor, little thing, leaking all over.” Aegon croons. “Does my brother not satisfy you?”

“We do not lie together.” Y/N tells him.

“What is it you do together?” Aegon’s lips twitch.

“Talk.”

He huffs a laugh. “You could talk to anyone, dearest. Why him?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder, “he is quite fascinating.”

“Have you come to care for him?”

“In the way you care for your ladies, I would wager.”

Aegon blinks, slightly dazed, as though he’s never considered it. “I love nothing in this world the way I love you.”

“As I love you.” Y/N peeks over her shoulder at him.

Aegon lines up his aching cock, sliding into her warm, with ease.

Y/N sighs, relishing the feel of him.

Aegon’s thoughts are plagued by the stupid sapphire necklace, bouncing between her breasts. Glittering against the bedding in the soft candle light, laughing at him.

He’s caught off guard by the force which possesses him to move her hair aside and yank the chain until it snaps.

“Ah,” Y/N rears back, clutching the skin of her burning neck.

“I am so terribly sorry, my only love.” Aegon apologizes, gathering her up, with her back to his chest. “It caught on my ring.” He kisses what he can reach of her flesh. He shouldn’t have done it, he knows it was wrong and he hates that he’s hurt her. “I will buy you a new necklace.”

Y/N reaches a hand back to caress his hair, eyes brimming with tears. “It felt as though you tugged.”

Aegon nuzzles her shoulder, leaning into her touch. “I will never harm you on purpose. Forgive me.”

Y/N nods, “of course.”

He turns her face toward him, enough for their lips to meet.

————————————————————————

Aemond does not see Y/N again, not for two nights. Whatever hold the wench has over him will not allow him to surpass that.

He finds her pacing the corridor nearest the library, wringing her hands. “What troubles you, Princess?”

Y/N sucks in a breath, “Aemond.”

“You have not been to the library.”

“I thought it best,” she nods.

“Why?” He leans against the pillar beside her.

“I do not wish to hurt you. After we last spoke, I realized that…”

“You would rather pace in a corridor, inflicting your own suffering than harm me?”

“I suppose I would.”

“If I wish to speak with Aegon about us, would you be opposed?” Aemond asks.

“What would you say?” Her eyes widen.

He taps her chin, “that is none of your concern, sweetling.”

“I love him dearly.” Y/N says, grabbing for his hand.

“Our marriage would only further serve to strengthen your claim to the throne. With Aegon and I at your side, there would be no one to contest you. Your mother, the Queen would be elated to have your claim upheld so fiercely.”

“You raised this matter with my mother?” Y/N whispers.

“I had to be sure it was an option, as I know you will forever toil in servitude of the crown. An honorable venture, for which you will find yourself in need of a King Consort well versed in the histories and matters of the realm.” Aemond takes another step toward her.

“A generous offer,” Y/N nods. “Still I must discuss this with my husband before any decision can be made.”

“Of course,” Aemond smiles.

————————————————————————

Y/N does discuss it with Aegon that night and the mere suggestion lands him in his brother’s room, prepared to kill him.

“I offered you a kindness, to wean you off of that woman at the pleasure house and this is how you repay me? By spitting in my face?” Aegon screams, the veins of his neck pulsing and red with fury.

“While you are busy fucking whores, it is my company your wife seeks. It is her mind which needs stimulating, and however unfortunate, I do not believe you are suited for the task.” Aemond holds both arms behind his back, unfazed by Aegon’s outburst.

“Y/N is the most precious thing in this world to me. She is mine, she has always been mine, she is always going to be mine. Take her cunt, if you must, but nothing more.”

Aemond purses his lips, “we are at an impasse then. I am quite taken with the whole of her.“

“It was me she swore oaths to, my children that grew inside her, my hand she holds. What do you want of her?”

“Soon she will swear the same oaths to me.” Aemond muses, “when I lie with her, it will be my seed that takes.“ He lifts a shoulder, “if you are kind to me, I may allow you to hold her hand as I do it.”

Part 2

[nervoushottee]

With Want | Paul Atreides x Fem!Reader

Summary: Paul Atreides always had dreams. But from the very beginning, there was an invisible string pulling him to you.

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Reader's secret name is Nuri, Set in Dune Part 2 , fingering, soulmate/destined pairing, shitty understanding of the Dune universe (only watched the first Dune move and only half of Dune part 2 whoopsie so I'm probably butchering some of the lore or whatever. Its fanfiction babes, I'm not writing this for accuracy),

Note: Hey hottees!! Y'all I'm not even finish watching Dune 2 and I started writing this. Timothee was doing something to me in this movieeee. Hope y'all enjoy!

*not edited at all babes*

---- ---- ----- ----

Paul Atreides had dreams. Both enchanting and horrifying dreams that would eat away at his mind and soul. And from the very beginning, he had always felt this small pull of a feeling. 

It was weirder than his dreams because even when he woke, he still felt it. Like it was a small tether, a light string in his heart and soul that hummed so softly. A light that was so dim that you would have to squint to see. 

After everything that happened with his father and being forced out of his home. The Fremen people found him and his mother. And that feeling grew stronger. He thought it was about the sayings of what his mother, the Bene Gesserit, would tell him but it felt more than that. 

It was odd, he could never see what it was in his dreams, or hear whispers of it like a name. But it was always that same enchanting feeling. So when Paul followed the Fremens, it continued to grow. By the time they walked deeper into the caves, it went from a strong pull to an overwhelming presence. 

And that’s when he saw you. 

“Who is she?” Paul asks Chani. The young woman already knew who Paul was asking for before she turned her head. A small smile engulfs on her face. “Nuri.”

Nuri.

Paul repeats your name to understand the feeling on his tongue. He hadn’t seen you before. Or maybe he did, he wasn’t too sure. The Fremen people covered their faces from the desert and a lot from what he was learning.

‘She moves like the wind.’ Paul says to himself as he watches you glide through the crowded room. Paul’s eyes meet yours briefly. Yours blue from your sclera to your irises. You stop moving through the crowd to stare at him. 

That feeling buzzed around him, stronger than ever within Paul as his eyes never leaving  yours. Your lips slowly turn up into a smile. Your eyes move towards Chani who still stands next to him, nodding in acknowledgement. Chani repeats the same gesture with a smile on her face, your gaze lingers back on Paul before a group of people walk in front of Paul’s view of you. By the time the people separate. You were gone. And the feeling suddenly fades from a sharp intensity to a dull buzz. 

“You should be careful around her Outworlder.” Chani says to him in a low tone as the common area starts to get a bit busy with people. The two of them sit down on a blanket as other where for food. 

“Was she with the group when you found me and my mother?” Paul asks, dodging the statement his acquaintance gave him. 

Chani shakes her head, chewing her food before speaking, “No. She doesn’t come with us all the time.”That intrigued Paul. He turns himself fully towards Chani, his bowl of food mixed with spice long forgotten . “So is she not a fighter?” 

“She is.” Chani says between chews, ”But she also walks with the Sayyadina.”

The Sayyadina. The Fremen’s Reverend Mother. 

“From what I’ve been told, her family was killed just after she was born. Stilgar took it upon himself to look after her. As she grew, the Sayyadina felt something within her. So Stilgar gave them the authority to let her walk with them. She is truly a great fighter, so when we need good fighters she will come with us when necessary. If not, she stays.” Chani continues. 

“A fighter and one that walks with the Sayyadina? Is that possible?” Paul questions. 

“To a nonbeliever? No. But to those who do? Yes. Stilgar believes in the old ways and in the faith. The Lisan al Gaib.” She says to him in a taunting tone which causes Paul to avert his eyes. The moment they came in, some shouted hatred towards him and his mother but others screamed in rejoice, calling him The Lisan al Gaib.

“Our people follow behind him, he is a good leader and his judgment is almost always right and trustworthy.” Chani finishes. 

Paul sits with the information he tells her, his hands slowly dipping in his bowl to start eating the food that was cold to touch but warm against his tongue. The heat of the spice warms his insides as it goes down his throat. “And what about you? What do you believe?”

”I don’t believe that you’re the Lisan al Gaib, that's for sure.” She chuckles. Paul feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment but urges her to continue. “I believe in our people. And she is a part of our people. And if she plays some part in whatever faith stories then so be it. But she has never faltered in training. She has never failed in the dessert and she is a good friend. She believes in our people as much as I do.”

After the words Chani said, Paul felt that she was over talking about you, more hungry and interested in the spice beneath her fingers. So Paul didn’t ask anymore. He ate his food in silence but his mind was racing with the thoughts of you. 

—— —— —— ——

The day had turned into night. Stilgar showed him and his mother the small room for them to sleep in for the time being until their fate was decided. A lot of them didn’t trust him and his mother, and for that Paul understood. 

His dreams woke him in the late night. Lifting his head from the makeshift pillow, he looks over to his mother who is still sound asleep. Her hand was placed on her lower stomach. 

‘Rest easy sister, I will be back.’ He says in his head before getting up and quietly leaving the room.

The caves are quiet at night. Besides from the guards that linger within the open spaces to protect those who rest. Paul doesn’t think it’s necessary but he avoids walking around where they are. Just in case to not stir any trouble. The people were calm at the moment since their fates were going to be decided soon enough. 

He walks to the small body of water his mother had told him about. The scared waters of the Fremens. The waters they would never touch. He sat there for a while. Enjoying the stilllness in the air and the calm look of the water. It reminded him of home. “I miss you father. I will take care of mother and sister.” He says to himself quietly. 

He wants to cry but reminds himself to save his water. “Don’t waste your tears on the dead” from what Stilgar told his mother. 

Paul sat still for a moment longer before he felt that pull again. That invisible string strong and tight as it pulls him to his feet. He absentmindedly walks into a dimly let hallway, his pulse quickening against his neck. His heat beating erratically against his chest as he turns the corner to see you. “You’re Nuri.” Paul states.

“You shouldn’t be out at night Paul Atriedes.” You say to him, your back towards him but he can hear the teasing smile within your words.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Paul explains to you simply, “And I made sure to walk where the guards can not see me.” The feeling nearly suffocates him as he walks toward you. 

“Ah.” You turn towards him, you’re dressed in almost the same comfortable linens as him. His a tan brown color and yours an off white. “You and your dreams.”

How did you know about that? He questions in his head, unconsciously taking another step towards you. You both now at arms length.

“I see you in my dreams.” Paul lies. 

“Do you?” You ask back, your tone sounds as if you know he’s lying. 

“No but I can feel you. In my dreams and out. And I don’t know what it is or what it means.” He explains. 

You hum in satisfaction as you slowly walk around him. Like a beast or a predator trapping its prey. “And what do you feel now?” 

He feels like his body is vibrating, His skin tingling and his veins jumping. His fingers buzzing as if he wants to reach out and touch you. He does what to touch you, he wants to feel your skin on his. “What do you feel?” Paul asks the question back to you.

You stop walking to stand behind him. The hairs on his neck stick out as he feels your body heat near him. Your lips slowly grazing his ear making his eyes flutter close. 

What the hell is happening to him?

“I feel like the spice on my tongue. I feel like the sand beneath my feet. I feel like the beauty you see in your dreams. I can feel you.” You whisper against him. 

Paul turns around to you, your bodies closer than ever. His lips inches towards yours as his flickers between your eyes and your lips. 

“You speak in tongues.” Paul whispers to you desperately.

“Shall I tell you in a way you understand?” You whisper against his lips. 

“Yes please.” he begs softly. 

And you don’t hesitate to put your lips on his. Paul moving quickly as his hands clasp softly against your cheeks. Moaning in the delight as he feels your hands glide against his chest, gripping his shirt. 

He feels you everywhere, but it isn’t overwhelming anymore. Now that he’s holding you and tasting you, your tongue glides against his. He feels a wave of warmth wash over him as his body and soul settle into the feeling of you. 

So warm and inviting. So enticing and serene. 

You push him towards a dark hidden spot in the hallway. Your bodies are engulfed in darkness but when you break apart for air, you can see him all the same. Paul moves you toward the wall, his body trapping you in as he kisses your neck. 

“I’ve dreamt of you, Paul Atreides. I’ve seen you in my dreams, felt you lingering in my mind, heart and soul.” You say to him breathly. Moaning quietly as you feel his tongue glide against your neck. Your guide his hand to touch your breast, causing Paul to move away from your neck and look into your eyes. 

‘So beautiful.’ Paul thought. He brings his other hand on your cheek and kisses you hungrily. Squeezing your breast, feeling the weight of it in the palm of his hand.His hand glides to let your nipple slip in between his fingers as he squeezes.“I want to dream of you. I want to see you in my dreams, want to hear your voice call my name.” he mutters to you in between kisses.

When you break away from his kiss, Paul starts to ask what’s wrong until he feels your hand on his and glides it up to your lips. You kiss his fingers individually as he stares at you in adoration and desire. You slowly slip his middle and ring finger into your mouth causing Paul to groan. His hips shifting upwards against you as he feels the wetness of your warm tongue glide against his fingers. He watches as you pull his fingers out of your mouth, his digits glistening wet. Your hands glide his now wet ones down and underneath your linen pants.

“Touch me and you will see me.” 

He lets his hand glide against you as is greeted by your wetness, causing you both to moan out in pleasure. You are sinking deeper into the wall and Paul sinking deeper into you. His fingers continue to glide there experimentally as you pull him back for a kiss. “Help me see.” Paul mutters desperately against you

. 

Your hands reach down in your lines to move his hand into the position you need for him to make you feel good. You mimic a small circular rotation with your fingers on the back of his hand that was still against you. Once Paul understands, he begins to move his fingers in the motion you instructed, making you moan against his lips. 

He pulls away to watch you. You looked more ethereal than any other being or spirit that was believed in all of Arrakis. Your head back against the mountain wall, your lips slightly open as you moan. Your hips moving against his fingers as if you’re chasing for pressure. Paul dips his head in the corner of your neck and kisses it feverishly as he applies more pressure in his movements. Causing you to hold on to shoulder and call out his name. Oh how he wanted you to say his name again.

Feeling a little confident he glides his fingers down, but keeps his them pressed against your swollen bud. He pushes his middle finger inside of you causing you to gasp. You hold onto his shoulder gripping his shirt as you breathe heavily. You drag his head from your neck to kiss him. With his finger going in and out of you at an agonizing slow pace, you kiss him sloppily. But Paul doesn’t seem to mind, he enjoys it. Humming against you with a smile. 

When you feel his ring finger follow in for a second is when you lose it. “Paul!” you say loudly. 

His tongue mingles with yours as he silences your cries. With the slow circling of his thumb against your clit and the way he pushes his fingers into you makes you clench against him. “Fuck.” he moans. 

You whine as you feel your orgasm growing inside of you. The feeling you both shared with one another makes you feel even more on edge as you grip Paul in anyway you can. You rapidly as you feel yourself getting close. “Pau-Paul -” you begin to tell him as such but the building pleasure doesn’t get you far. Paul places his other hand against your cheek, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed. You feel his thumb brush against your bottom lip. 

“Let me see you.” 

His words are the final push that sends you over the edge. Paul kissing you to silence your cries, you mewling against his lips as his fingers never stop their learned rhythm. You shiver against his fingers, your body tingly and warm. He kisses your face from your cheeks, to your eyelids and everywhere in between as he waits for you to come down from your high. He whispers your name, making you flutter your eyes open to see Paul stare at you with want. 

“Show me again.”

[astrosamara]

Astrology Observations #1

🩵Mars in Gemini and Virgo are very quick learners. They're at their best when they keep themselves busy with new and intellectually stimulating hobbies.

🩵Cancer placements in the big 3 have the most comforting and nurturing energy. These people are so easy to be around and it feels so easy to be yourself around them. I feel like people don’t give cancer placements enough credit for how good they are at making people feel loved.

🩵10th house moons are very loved and admired in their careers. I've noticed a lot of celebrities with this placement.

🩵Neptune in the 11th house can really idealize their friendships and groups and can end up being very deceived by them. Their friends can be very phony and not their true friends at all. 

🩵Leo and Libra in the big 3 makes someone a natural in the spotlight. Fame comes easily to them.

🩵Moon in Pisces or 12th house tend to have very strong connections to their dreams. They can even have epiphanies that help guide them in their life.

🩵In solar return charts, I've noticed that when the transit sun conjuncts the solar return chart ruler, a pivotal moment will happen for that year related to what planet it is. For example, my solar return ascendant in 2022 was in Sagittarius and when the sun made a conjunction with my solar return Jupiter, I received my associate's degree. My previous solar return ascendant in 2021 was in Libra, and when the sun made a conjunction with my solar return Venus, I developed a new long-term crush that inspired me to pursue a new passion. It can be fun to make a note of these dates every year to see what comes up.

🩵8th house synastry is no joke. These connections are incredibly intense and very hard to break free from. It can feel almost impossible to forget about this person. Very transformational as well.

🩵Harsh moon aspects are strong indicators of a wounded relationship with the mother. Pluto square the moon in particular is a very challenging placement for this matter. The mother could have instilled deep trauma and fear in you at an early age.

🩵Positive Mars and Venus aspects make someone incredibly charming. They're often easily liked and admired. I've noticed this the most with Mars sextile Venus.

🩵It's so important to pay attention to your moon sign/house/aspects to discover what you need to feel emotionally fulfilled. For example, I'm a Pisces moon and need to be creative and have a healthy amount of alone time daily to feel content.

🩵Personal Aries placements rapidly need new and passionate energy in their lives. It's so hard for them to stay in situations they're bored and uninspired in. Depending on other placements in the chart that can be more grounding, it's very hard for them to remain committed to a situation for a long time if it's not interesting.

🩵Idk if it's just because I have a Scorpio venus and stellium, but I find Scorpio moon and/or mars men to be so sexy.

🩵Pay attention to what themes come up in your life during your north node return, it can reveal a lot about what you're destined to do and what sort of life can be the most fulfilling for you.

[ldrfanatic]

Italian Theodore Nott Headcanons

So... by popular request (I think like literally one person commented on a post from ages ago) and also because I'm still working on my most recent part to the '13' Series (linked here) here's some Italian Theo headcanons to keep you sated.

sorry if this is inaccurate it's based off of my own knowledge of italians and what I think Theo would be like

slytherin boys masterlist works

So, unlike most, I don't think that Italian Theo would be a whore. Let me explain:

Sure Italian men like to flirt, (although Theo doesn't), but they do it because it comes so natural to them and because more than anything, they value their partner.

They're well dressed and take pride in their appearance (something Theo does do) but they don't always entertain the people of the heads that they turn

They also have a natural air of confidence that Theo has and doesn't even have to use

However, just because Theo isn't a whore doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own little clique of fangirls.

In general:

As a person, Theo is incredibly quiet. His English is not the best as he grew up in the Italian countryside and spends his breaks there. He spends most of his time observing, and the rest of his time, mentally translating sentences from English to Italian and vice versa (and yes that's exhausting).

He does however take food incredibly seriously (as most Italians do I feel). His favorite kind of pasta is Paccheri and he will die on the hill that the Italians were the first to make Pizza (who else could make bread, sauce, and cheese taste so good?). He was also incredibly shocked when he found out the drinking age in England was 18. Theo had a glass of wine with dinner every night since the age of ten.

Another thing he doesn't quite understand about England is the frequency through which they drink tea throughout the day. At most, he has a cup a day while some of his English friends have four to five cups a day and usually, one cup with every meal.

Theo also had a very strong connection to his mother. Now that she's gone, he spends a lot of time in his head with his memories of her. It's not all that shocking to anyone really that he doesn't quite have the time or the patience for girls.

Platonically:

As a friend, Theo is a little more open but not much. His two closest friends in the group are you and Lorenzo who's also Italian. He'll talk to either of you and open up a little, but only if no one else is around. He's a bit impartial to Mattheo although he does think the boy is a loose cannon and he actually secretly despises Draco and his blood purity nonsense as it reminds him too much of his father (whom he also hates). So yeah, he spends the majority of his time with Lorenzo and Blaise.

In regards to your friendship with Theo, he's a complete gentleman. He never sits too close in fear of startling or offending you. He opens all of the doors the pair of you walk through and carries your books to class when you have the same class.

In fact, despite being significantly more well mannered than any other boy in your year, the only thing that hinted to you that Theo felt anything towards you other than indifference were small smiles and shared secrets.

Romantically:

Before you even became friends you'd caught Theo's eye. The first time he'd noticed you, you were comforting a crying first year muggle-born that Draco had bullied to tears. You spoke so kindly and softly to the boy. Theo knew then that you weren't like everyone else in Hogwarts. Most people were too afraid to stand up to Draco but the next day, you punched him square in the jaw and told him to stop being such a prick.

The first person to find out about Theo's crush on you was Lorenzo of course. He didn't tease him for which Theo was grateful. Now as stated, Theo is an incredibly quiet person so it's not clear to you that Theo has crush on you.

Also, once Theo has decided that he likes you, other girls don't even approach him anymore. Not after the Ravenclaw incident. A Ravenclaw from your guys' year approached him and asked him out. He didn't even acknowledge her. Just stood up and left.

He does however, make an attempt to spend more time with you whenever her can. He sits with you at meals and during lessons, he asks you for help in charms (even though he's already receiving high marks, but you don't know that). He brings you soup when your sick.

The way that you find out Theo has a crush on you is actually really surprising for you.

Lorenzo came running up to you after Potions one day, completely out of breath. "Y/n! Come quick." He didn't give you any room to disagree as he grasped your wrist firmly and began dragging you down the corridor towards the courtyard. When you got out there, your stomach dropped.

For the first time since meeting him, you saw Theo fight. He had Addrian Pucey on the ground and was currently pummeling the poor boy. The scariest part was that he remained completely calm, cold. Mattheo and Draco were standing on the sidelines egging him on while Theo ruthlessly delivered blow after blow in dead silence. He didn't even wince as his knuckles began to split open and bleed.

Blaise was desperately trying to pull Theo away but he wouldn't budge. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and approached the boy. As he was throwing punches with his right arm, you approached him from the left and placed a hand on his left shoulder apprehensively. "Theo."

At the sound of your voice, Theo stopped immediately. He didn't look at you immediately. Instead, he stood and kicked Adrian who was on the ground rolling in pain. "Stay away from her." The crowd dispersed as the fight ended. When Theo turned to look at you, his eyes were blazing. For the first time since you'd known him, Theo was burning with rage.

"Theo come on." He let you lead him away in complete silence. Worse than what Adrian had said to you, Theo was ashamed. He couldn't believe that he'd let his emotions take over like that. Now he may have lost you for good. When you finally stopped in a secluded corridor, Theo turned away from you.

"Theo?" He was silent and your concern grew. It wasn't Theo's usual kind of silence, it was a silence that made your heart feel heavy. "Theodore."

"Don't."

"What?"

Finally Theo turns to you and his eyes are glossy. It was startling almost, to see the normally calm and collected boy tearing up. "Don't do that tesoro. Yell, push me, hit me if you need to, but I'm not Theodore. Not to you."

"What happened?" He sighed.

"I overheard Adrian say something completely vile about... you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me cuore. You are the only light in my dark life."

You reached out and grabbed Theo's hands in your own. "That's incredibly sweet of you Theo. But why would you do that for me?"

"Isn't it obvious! I am entirely and irreversibly in love with you. I cannot live without you and I will not allow anyone to say such things about you."

After that, Theo took you out on a date. Thanks to his Pureblood lineage, Theo's family was quite wealthy. And his father had always taken to making sure he was well cared for financially, perhaps out of guilt from his emotional abuse.

For your first date, Theo took you to a London shopping district with his Black Card. At first you refused to spend any of his money. That is until Theo became resigned to buy you everything that your eyes lingered on for more than five seconds despite all your protests.

To end the date, he treated you to a nice dinner and then brought the pair of you back to Hogwarts.

As your boyfriend:

As your boyfriend, Theo's go-to nickname for you is either tesoro (treasure). He spends a lot of time staring at you which Mattheo teases him endlessly for of course.

He wishes you could meet his mother, but he adamantly refuses for you to meet his father. Instead, he introduces you to his grandmother. She teaches you how to make pasta from scratch and you and Theo often sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts to try and make it there.

He makes it pretty clear that you're the only girl for him. He even tells you one night how his mother's dying wish was for him to find someone that he loved wholeheartedly and who loved him as much. Theo knows that this person is you, and he has no shyness in telling you.

He hates to see you cry, but if for any reason you're feeling sad, he recites Italian poetry to you in a soft and devoted tone.

Questo nostro amore, vita mia

lo prospetti felice

destinato a durare per sempre.

Dei del cielo, fate voi che lei dica il vero,

che lo prometta sincera e dal cuore,

che si possa per tutta la vita

mantener questo patto inviolabile

(This love of ours my life; I predict will be happy; destined to last forever.; Gods of the sky, do what you deem to be true; that promises to be sincere and from the heart,; which can be for a lifetime,; keep this inviolable covenant.)

When Theo speaks his native tongue it makes you a little weak in the knees. The way that his lips curve around the words and his tongue effortlessly forms each syllable makes your heart swell.

Overall:

Italian Theo is a complete cutie with impeccable manners and expresses more romance in ten minutes with you than most men express in their entire lives. He sees you as a light that brightens his life that he will do anything to protect.

----

help this is so bad

[bloodibambiidoll]

Her Emperor, His Destiny

(Alpha!Paul Atreides x Omega!BeneGesserit!Reader)

Summary: Ever since Paul presented no omega has smelled remotely appealing to him. His only reprieve is his dreams that have been filled with nothing but an angelic voice calling out to him, the silhouette of a woman he can’t quite make out, and the sweetest saccharine smell. Wk: 3.2k

Warnings: General omegaverse behaviors, knotting, scenting, marking, breeding, Paul and reader are a soul bound pair, inappropriate use of the voice(by both Paul & Reader) , fluff, kinda love making? Idk this is much softer than my usual smut. I think that’s it, lmk if I missed any!! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: Listen… I know this is left field for me but I made a promise to myself that I would start writing for ME again, and that means writing whatever I want. I saw Dune 2 and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Paul is so alpha coded I feel like it was dropped in my lap.

Paul expected the air to be different, smell different, out in the desert planes of Arkkis. Thus far it’s as he expected. The smell of spice and sand permeate the air to the point that it’s over powering, flooding every single one of your senses. The sand lingers on any inch of exposed skin practically borrowing its way underneath. The smell of spice is so strong that it feels like it’s drowning you, invading your lungs and nostrils, coating them, leaving your insides feeling like sandpaper if you dare breathe it in.

But as he follows Stilgar into the sietch he can’t even be bothered with the glares and sideways glances from the Freman because the further they walk the more his senses are hit with an overwhelmingly saccharine smell. It was like someone was baking the finest pastry mixed with a warm milk bath on a cold winter's day. He had only ever smelled something as sweet as this in his dreams. A scent he’s dreamed of so vividly that it lingered in his nostrils when he woke, but he’s never caught a whiff of it in waking hours until now. There was no doubt in his mind that this is the same scent. The scent that’s haunted him every night since he presented. The scent of his omega, his destined mate.

“I can hear and smell you scenting back there, Paul Atreides… I suggest you get your pheromones under control before we enter.” Stilgar looks back at him with an apprehensive look and Paul apologizes nodding in agreement. “Mating is a very sacred thing to my people. Each pair must be approved and blessed by the high priestess. And all unmated omegas rooms are on the opposite side of the alphas. It is very important that you follow all rules, but especially this one. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand.” He understood the rule but does that mean he was going to follow it? He could certainly try. But that scent was intoxicating and the closer they got to the sietch the stronger it got. He knows given the chance, he’d break that rule in an instant. Consequences be damned.

“Many wait for their soul bound mate and majority of them die alone, never finding the one.” Paul found this odd. Soul bounds are few and far between nowadays and he comes from a place where mating is a transaction, a bargain, something of power and not of love. But as that sugary sweet scent swirls around him, almost making him dizzy, he thinks he might understand wanting to wait for your one. It’s been a few years now since he presented and no omega has ever smelled even remotely appealing to him. They either smelled of nothing or downright revolting, his only reprieve was in his dreams. His dreams filled with that sugary smell and the figure of a woman whose face he could never quite make out.

When Stilgar pulled his mother aside Paul found himself alone in a room filled with stares. Some looked at him in awe, certain he was their long awaited Maud’Dib. Others looked at him with disdain, snickering to each other as they shamelessly pointed his way. But he honestly wasn’t concerned with any of it, because as he sat against the stony wall the scent was stronger than ever. He could almost taste it. His eyes searched the room, craving nothing more than to put a face to the smell that has nearly become his drug. But as he looked across the various faces surrounding him, no one stuck out to him.

But he was certain she was in this room, if not this one than the next. That warm saccharine scent was so close it was as if it were right next to him. That’s when he feels a tap on his shoulder, causing him to jump. Either this person was stealthy or he was so lost in thought he didn’t hear them approaching but when his head whips around to see who it is he feels like his heart is going to burst. He hears the sound of bells ringing, a sound that he’s only heard in the churches back home. There standing over him is the most ethereal woman he’s ever seen, beautiful, perfect, sweet smelling, you.

“Hello, Paul Atreides, I’ve been waiting for you.” You smile down at him sweetly, your eyes filled with adoration. You aren’t dressed like the Fremen, no tans or browns or stillsuit to be found. A black silky dress adorns your form, fitting you perfectly. There’s a sheer midnight colored scarf wrapped around your head and shoulders, framing your face like the greatest work of art. You weren’t Fremen. You were a Bene Gesserit. Or at the very least, one in training.

“I think… I’ve been waiting for you too.” Paul’s voice is trance-like, looking up at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. The sound of the voice you’ve heard so many times in your slumber sending chills down your spine.

“Won’t you come with me? I have so much to tell you.” You look at him eagerly, offering him your danity ringed hand.

“I don’t know if I’m… supposed to…” He wants nothing more than to follow you. He would follow you into one of the suns of Arakkis if you asked him to. But he knew he was already on thin ice here and he feared what would happen to him and his mother if he were to upset anyone further.

“Do not bother with them, they will see the way. They will see what I’ve seen. Soon they will be cheering your name. Come.”

Paul scans the room, all eyes are on the two of you but when he looks back at your reassuring smile it’s like no one else matters, no one else exists. He takes your hand, letting you pull him along through hallways and far away from prying eyes. You drag him into a room that he assumes is yours, shutting the door behind you.

“Have you dreamt of me, Paul?” You sit on the bed and pull the scarf from your head, leaning back on your palms. You look so beautiful and the room is engulfed in your scent. It clings to every inch of the space and radiates off of you in waves.

“Yes… have you dreamt of me?” He takes an apprehensive step toward you, leaving a few feet of distance between the two of you. His green eyes feel as if they’re eating you alive and the scent of him causes slick to rush into your panties.

“Yes, every night since I presented as an omega my dreams have been filled with nothing but you. And more recently I’ve had visions of you in my waking hours. Will you tell me, Paul, about your dreams?” Your voice is as sweet as your scent. The way you’re leaning back on your hands makes the silk of your dress taunt against your breasts, your peaked nipples on display. The sight of you and the unmistakable smell of your slick makes his cock stir in his pants.

“They aren’t very vivid… mostly just flashes of you from behind, the sound of your voice, you were always saying ‘come to me Paul, for I am your destiny’ but your scent? That was so clear to me.” He takes another step forward, reaching a hand out as if he’s going to touch you but he lets it fall to his side, like he thought better of it. “I didn’t know it was possible to have a sense of smell in your dreams, but night after night I was surrounded by your scent as I slept.”

“I could smell you as well and I smelled you the minute you arrived. But my dreams are much more detailed than yours. There is much you do not know.” You approach him, closing the small distance between you. You rest your hands on his chest, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Would you like me to tell you about them?”

“I’d love nothing more, omega.” His thumb gently caresses the apple of your cheek before traveling down to push some of your hair off your shoulder. He’s looking down at you expectantly, eagerly waiting for you to speak.

“Your dreams are correct, I am your destiny, and you are mine. I can feel the doubt in your heart, feel that you do not believe in yourself, do not believe that you are the Maud’Dib but you are, sweet Paul. For I have seen it.”

“Tell me? What have you seen?” He searches your eyes for signs of doubt or deceit but all he sees is truth there. Truth and the same adoring look you gave him when he first saw you.

“I’ve seen you learning the ways of the Fremen. I’ve seen you move them, rally them. I’ve seen a battle in which you win. I’ve seen you upon the emperor's throne, ruling over all, with me by your side, our child in my arms.” Your hands travel from his chest to take his face in your soft palms where you rub soothing circles on his temples.

“You saw… all of that?” Paul’s voice sounded exasperated, like what you’ve told him took all the breath from his lungs. He feels like it has. The finality and bluntness in which you speak tell him that your words are true.

“Yes, and more. There will be plenty of time to tell you about it all. But right now? I need you.” Right as the words leave your mouth a gush of slick drips down your legs. The presence of your mate triggering your heat weeks early.

“Tell me what you need, omega.” His voice drops an octave, taking on that deep alpha tone. It makes your heart speed up as another gush of slick drips from your core. You can’t help but think what it would be like if he used The Voice on you. Regularless of how absolutely blasphemous that would be considered.

“I need you, alpha. I need your cock. I need you to fill me up and lock your seed inside me with your knot.” Paul lets out a growl before reaching out, one hand gripping onto your hip to pull you flush against him and the other going to the back of your neck so he could connect his lips with your own.

The kiss starts off rough, eager, and hungry. But after a few moments his lips become tender against your own, his fingers threading through your hair as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You grant him access, immediately intertwining his tongue with your own, moaning at the taste of him.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, my moon. Ask for it and it is yours.” He kisses down your jaw to your throat where he runs the tip of his nose along your scent gland, inhaling deeply. “You wish for me to make love to you? Then I shall.”

Paul pushes the thin straps of your satin dress down your shoulders, kissing along the column of your throat, your collar bones, across your shoulders. You drop your arms so the straps fall the rest of the way down, the dress slipping down your body with them. Leaving you bare before him aside from the thin black material of your panties.

“Absolutely beautiful, angelic.” He runs the back of his hand down your cheek, your jaw, your neck, all the way down until his back knuckles are caressing the tender peaks of your nipples. He slides it across your chest, giving the other the same treatment before taking both of your tits in his hands. He gently squeezes them, pinching your hardened nipples between his fingers, eliciting little whimpers from you.

“I heard your mother has been teaching you our ways. How is your training?” Paul raises an eyebrow at you, certainly wondering why you’re asking him about that at a time like this. “I only ask because I was wondering if you might want to practice on me.”

“Do you mean…?” He looks at you with wide eyes and you smirk, biting your lip.

“That’s exactly what I mean. I can feel your apprehension, don’t be afraid, I want this.” You lean into him, smashing his hands that are still on your chest between your bodies as you lean up to you run your nose along his scent gland, darting your tongue out to taste the sweat and spice that coat his skin. He grabs onto your shoulders, pushing you back so he can look in your eyes, searching for any signs of doubt. But as every other time he’s looked in your eyes tonight, he’s seen nothing but honesty there. Nothing but truth.

“Get on the bed on your back. Spread your legs.” Your body immediately reacts, doing exactly as he asks. Paul approaches the foot of the bed, standing between your spread legs. “That’s a good girl.”

His hands grip onto your knees, pushing your legs further apart, leaning down to shove his face between your legs. His nose runs along the soaked material of your panties, deeply inhaling the sugary sweet smell of your slick.

“Alpha, please.”

“You do not have to beg, my moon. I’m going to give you exactly what you want.” Paul smirks up at you before lacing his fingers into the band of your panties and ripping them in half. He runs his tongue up your slit, circling it around your sensitive clit. The feeling of his hot wet mouth has you coming undone instantly, your slick gushing all over his chin and down his neck where it drips onto his shirt. He moans at the taste, sweeter than anything that’s ever graced his taste buds. “Yes, that’s my good little omega, give it all to me, let me drink in your sweet nectar.”

He dives back in, shoving his tongue as deep into your pussy as it can go, fucking you with it. His lips come up to wrap around your clit while his fingers circle your dripping entrance. He runs his fingers through your folds before shoving them knuckle deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck! I’m going to cum again, I’m gonna cum.” You move your hips against his face as he curls his fingers against your sweet spot, your legs clamp around his head and your entire body shakes as your high washes over you. Paul pushes himself up from the bed, ridding himself of his clothes before climbing back over to you, situating himself on top of you with his hands on either side of your head. His hard cock is resting against your lower stomach, the tip leaking precum onto your skin.

“I want to taste you too.” You run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. You didn’t even care that the ache between your legs wouldn’t be satiated until he was inside you, you needed to taste him.

“Next time. I need to be inside you now.” It comes out a soft whisper, his forehead resting against your own. He reaches between your bodies, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with your entrance. He connects his lips with your own, kissing you passionately as he begins to push inside you. You both moan as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, slipping your tongue into his mouth as his thrusts begin to pick up.

“Mmm you feel amazing, my love, my lord, my emperor.” Paul looks into your eyes as he continues to fuck you at a linguid pace, rolling his hips against your own as he pushes himself as deep inside you as possible.

“My moon, my destiny.” He picks up the pace, pushing up on his knees and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, the fucked out love sick gaze that you send his way makes his skin even hotter.

“I want you to fill me up, alpha. Fill me with your cum. Put a pup in me. So we can fulfill our prophecy.” Paul snakes a hand between the two of you, connecting his thumb with your clit so he can rub circles on it in time with his thrusts.

“Open your mouth.” The sound of him using The Voice makes your walls clench around him, your jaw dropping open at his command. He leans down, letting the spit that had collected in his mouth drip down into your tongue. “Swallow it.”

You swallow with an audible gulp. Your heart warming at the gesture that anywhere else would be considered lewd but here on Arakkis to share one’s sacred spit with another was a grand gesture of love.

“Thank you, my love. You taste better than the finest feast. I cannot wait to know what your cum tastes like.” Paul groans at that, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. His thrusts start to grow sloppy but he refuses to finish before you do.

“Cum for me.” As soon as the words leave his mouth your walls are convulsing around him, sucking him as your slick soaks his cock.

“Mark me, Paul. Sink your teeth into my flesh and bind us together as we are meant to be.” You tug on his arms, pulling his upper half so it’s draped over you, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts become slow and deep again, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

“But Stilgar said…” He groans, using every ounce of strength in his body to not just sink his teeth into your soft neck.

“I do not care what Stilgar said. This is bigger than him. Bigger than all of them. Mark me.” His mouth moves before his mind can process what’s happening, his teeth sinking deep into your flesh, breaking the skin. The feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt. Electricity washes through your body, the most world altering orgasm of your life wracks through you, and you feel like your soul leaves you, connecting with Paul’s before returning to your earthly vessel. He pushes his hips flush against yours, ropes of his cum spilling inside you.

“Oh fucking shit.” Paul groans, pulling his mouth from your neck, gliding his tongue over the indents of his teeth. He leans back to look at you, eyes roaming your face. His knot swells inside of you and a look of pain crosses your features before turning into one of ecstasy. Loud moans leave your lips as your final orgasm of the night washes over you. Paul leans down, connecting his lips with yours, kissing you like it’s the last thing he will ever do. Though it was far from it.

“I hope you are not upset with me, Maud’Dib.” You take his face in your hands, running the top of your nose along his cheek.

“I don’t think I could ever be upset with you, my love. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on when you used The Voice on me…” he chuckles, resting his forehead against your own. “I am so happy I finally found you…”

“You have me now, until the day I take my last breath I will belong to you, Paul Atreides. Together, we will accomplish great things.”