#lord this was not supposed to be this long

[moonlitstoriess]

Unseen, Unheard, Unloved- Initial Rhysand, Eventual Kallias x fem!Reader (2/2)

Summary: She had given him everything—her heart, her trust, and now, the child growing within her. But as Rhysand’s attention drifts elsewhere, as excuses pile up, and as whispers of a mortal girl turn into something far more dangerous, she begins to wonder: Was she ever truly seen? Was she ever truly heard? Or had she been unloved all along?

See masterlist

Part 1

Warnings: none I think

Azriel winnowed them inside the grand entrance hall of the Winter Court’s palace, and the instant her boots touched the icy marble, Y/n felt the air shift. Cold, crisp, and biting—but not in an unwelcoming way. No, it was different from Velaris’ warmth, different from the suffocating tension that had clung to her like a second skin. This was clean. It was fresh. It smelled of snow and pine, of something untouched and unburdened by the weight she had been carrying for weeks.

But her body was still heavy. Exhaustion curled in her bones, her limbs aching from both the winnowing and everything leading up to it.

Azriel set her bag down beside her, his movements careful, precise—as if handling something fragile. Which, she supposed, she was. But she wouldn’t break. She couldn’t break. Not anymore.

Before she could even take in more of her surroundings, a familiar, cool voice broke through the silence.

"Welcome to Winter, Y/n."

Kallias stood a few feet away, dressed in pristine white and silver, his platinum hair gleaming under the grand chandelier’s light. His sharp, glacial blue eyes softened as he took her in, as he noted the weary set of her shoulders, the way she clutched the front of her coat as if holding herself together.

Y/n tried to muster a smile, something resembling a greeting, but all she managed was a tired nod. “Kallias.”

The High Lord of Winter stepped closer, his gaze scanning her as if committing her presence to memory. “You must be exhausted.” It wasn’t a question.

Before she could answer, Azriel’s voice cut through, softer this time. “I’ll be checking up on you.”

She turned to him, the words lingering in the air between them. It wasn’t a warning, wasn’t a demand. Just a quiet promise. She swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling—gratitude, maybe, or guilt, or just a strange sadness that this moment, this transition, was real.

Still, she nodded. Then, before she could think too hard about it, she took a small step forward and wrapped her arms around Azriel, pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

Azriel stilled for half a second, then exhaled quietly, his own arms tightening around her in a silent promise.

"Bye, Az."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it made his grip on her tighten. “Take care of yourself, little ghost.”

She let out a quiet breath. He hadn’t called her that in a long time.

He pulled away first, his hazel eyes flickering to Kallias.

A silent conversation passed between them. One that Y/n wasn’t fully privy to but felt in the tense set of Azriel’s jaw, in the unreadable shift in Kallias’ expression. It was an understanding. A warning. A promise.

Then, Kallias broke the silence, his voice cool but edged with something pointed.

“As long as she is with me, she will always be cared for.”

It wasn’t a simple reassurance. It was a statement. A reminder. And perhaps, a veiled jab at the one who had failed her.

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. But he only nodded, only gave Y/n one last lingering glance before he winnowed away, the shadows swallowing him whole.

And just like that, it was real.

She was here.

Truly, fully here.

Silence stretched between her and Kallias before he exhaled softly. “Are you hungry?”

Y/n hesitated. “I—”

His gaze sharpened slightly, sweeping over her frame. His lips pressed into a frown. “Have they not been feeding you properly there?”

She blinked, startled by the question.

And before she could think of a response, he added, “I can see your collarbones.”

It was true. The months of stress, of sleepless nights and overthinking, had left their mark on her body. She had eaten, of course—but only enough to function. Only enough to get through the days.

But she couldn’t say that.

So she just shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Kallias’ frown deepened. And then, to her surprise, he reached out, placing a warm, steadying hand on her shoulder. Not forceful, not imposing—just a firm, grounding presence.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re pregnant. Carrying another life, giving your energy to them. Of course, you being well-fed is of the utmost importance.”

She opened her mouth, but he was already picking up her bag. “Come,” he said smoothly. “Let me show you to your rooms personally.”

She blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” There was no room for argument.

So she followed.

The halls of the Winter Palace were as grand as she remembered—tall ceilings, intricate carvings of wolves and swirling ice patterns adorning the archways. Everything gleamed in shades of silver, white, and blue, but it wasn’t an unfeeling cold. There was warmth woven into the design, into the soft glow of faelights lining the corridors, into the thick, plush rugs muffling their footsteps.

“You’ve made a few changes since I was last here,” she noted, her voice quiet but steady.

Kallias glanced at her. “Somewhat.”

"Somewhat?" she echoed, raising a brow. "There's an entire new wing on the east side."

His lips twitched slightly. "You noticed."

"I notice everything."

Kallias hummed. “It was necessary. We needed more space.”

Y/n huffed a quiet laugh. "For what? Ice sculptures?"

Kallias chuckled, the sound low, but real. “For expansion. Winter has been growing stronger these past few years.”

Something in the way he said it made her glance at him. “Stronger how?”

He slid a look her way, something amused but serious in his expression. “We’ve been securing better alliances. Strengthening our borders.”

Y/n tilted her head slightly. “So, politics.”

“Politics,” he agreed. Then, after a pause, “Which you’ve never had much patience for.”

She scoffed. "No, I just never had patience for stupidity in politics."

Kallias smirked. “Fair enough.”

A comfortable silence settled between them.

And then, more gently, he added, “You never answered my question.”

She frowned. “Which one?”

“If they were feeding you properly.”

Y/n exhaled, already tired of this conversation. “I ate.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She looked away. “It’s the only one I’m giving.”

A quiet beat.

Then Kallias murmured, “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

Her breath caught for a moment.

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she focused on the hallway ahead—on the set of ornate doors that Kallias pushed open, revealing her chambers.

The room was beautiful—bathed in soft hues of silver and white, with a fireplace already crackling in the corner. The bed was large, draped in plush blankets that looked like they had been crafted from the softest furs. A seating area was arranged near the balcony doors, the windows opening up to a breathtaking view of the snowy mountains in the distance.

Y/n exhaled, the tension in her chest loosening just a fraction.

Kallias set her bag down by the bed. “If there’s anything else you need, you only have to ask.”

She turned to him. “This is… more than enough. Thank you, Kallias.”

He held her gaze for a long moment. Then, finally, he gave her a small nod. “I’ll send some servants to help you get settled in and bring you food.”

She wanted to argue, to say she could handle it on her own. But the truth was—she didn’t want to. She was tired. So, instead, she just nodded.

Kallias lingered for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he turned toward the door.

“Rest, Y/n.” His voice was softer now, quieter. “You are safe here.”

And then, with a final glance, he left.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she let out a breath that didn’t feel like it was suffocating her.

The first thing Y/n did after Kallias left was sit on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. The exhaustion in her bones was unbearable, but her mind wouldn’t let her rest. The quiet of Winter was so different from Velaris, from the ever-present hum of the city, the laughter of people she had once called family. Here, there was only silence, save for the distant howl of the wind outside her window.

The room was warm, but she still felt cold.

She had barely unpacked when the servants arrived, bringing trays of food—warm soup, roasted meats, fresh bread. Everything smelled rich and comforting, but the moment she sat at the small table and lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips, she set it back down. Her stomach twisted at the thought of eating.

The exhaustion finally won over the overthinking. She stripped out of her clothes, slipped into a nightgown the Winter servants had left for her, and slid under the thick blankets. The mattress was plush, the warmth inviting. Still, it took her a long time to sleep.

When she did, her dreams were filled with shadows and echoes of the past.

The soft sound of footsteps stirred Y/n awake. At first, she barely registered it, the warmth of the blankets anchoring her to the bed, her body still sluggish with exhaustion.

Then came a gentle knock at the door, followed by the quiet creak of it opening.

"Lady Y/n?"

Y/n forced her eyes open, the dim morning light filtering through the frosted windows. A young female stood at the threshold, her hands folded neatly in front of her, eyes bright but cautious.

"I apologize for waking you," the maid said, stepping further into the room. "But I was sent to assist you in getting ready for the day."

Y/n blinked, mind still sluggish from sleep. "Getting ready…?"

The maid offered a small, polite smile. "High Lord Kallias has requested to see you. He wishes to personally show you the palace grounds."

That woke her up.

Y/n sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "Me?" she asked, voice raspy from sleep.

"Yes, my lady."

Y/n stared at the maid, confused. Kallias wanted to show her around? Personally?

Her first instinct was to decline. To stay buried in the warmth of the bed, to avoid whatever this new world was trying to offer her. But then she remembered Azriel’s quiet words before he left.

"Take care of yourself, little ghost."

The thought of him was enough to make her sigh, her reluctance softening just slightly.

"Alright," she murmured.

The maid nodded, moving to help her out of bed. Y/n accepted the assistance, stretching her limbs carefully before allowing the female to guide her toward the dressing screen.

"The High Lord wanted you to be comfortable, so he had clothes prepared for you," the maid said as she unwrapped a fresh set of winter garments.

Y/n hesitated before reaching out to feel the fabric. It was soft, warmer than anything she’d ever worn before, and lined with fur along the collar and sleeves.

"It’s beautiful," she admitted quietly.

"Everything in Winter is made to withstand the cold," the maid explained as she assisted Y/n into the outfit. "And with your condition, the High Lord was adamant that you have only the warmest materials available."

Her condition.

Y/n looked down at her stomach, her hands instinctively brushing over the swell of it. She had almost forgotten—almost.

A child. Rhysand’s child.

Her throat tightened.

"Do you need anything before we leave?" the maid asked gently, sensing the shift in her mood.

Y/n forced herself to breathe, to push those thoughts away. "No," she said, lifting her chin slightly. "I’m ready."

The maid studied her for a moment before nodding and leading her toward the door.

As they stepped into the hall, Y/n found herself exhaling slowly, steadying herself. She could do this. She would do this.

She was nervous, but there was something thrilling about wearing these colors—Kallias's colors. Winter’s colors. She had heard the whispers about how striking she looked in the ensemble, but it was Kallias's reaction that she had been anticipating the most.

As she rounded the corner into the main corridor, her heart fluttered at the sight of Kallias standing by one of the grand arches, his eyes immediately falling on her. He was speaking to a servant, but the moment his gaze landed on her, everything else seemed to fall away.

His lips parted, his jaw tightening for a split second before his eyes widened in clear awe. His posture straightened, and he seemed to forget the conversation altogether as he stepped forward.

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat, suddenly self-conscious. His gaze was intense, as though he could see straight through the fabric to the very essence of her.

“You look…” Kallias's voice faltered slightly, his words tripping over themselves as he stared at her, clearly taken aback. “You look... breathtaking, Y/n.”

A warmth spread through her chest at the sincerity in his voice. She felt herself flush, the heat in her cheeks rising despite the chill of the palace around them.

“I... thank you,” she murmured, suddenly unsure of what to say. She wanted to dismiss his comment, but his reaction made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t quite prepared for. His gaze was soft but filled with admiration, and it made her feel special, cherished even.

“I’ve seen many dressed in Winter’s colors,” Kallias continued, still a little breathless. “But none wear them like you.”

Y/n smiled at that, feeling a strange giddiness inside her. “I... I’m not sure I’m used to it,” she said, her voice almost shy as she glanced down at the dress.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "You wear them with such grace, as though Winter was made for you."

She could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of his words settling over her like a comforting blanket. It was impossible not to feel seen, truly seen, in that moment.

Before she could respond, Kallias quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Shall we? The palace grounds await."

They stepped outside, and the cool air of Winter immediately wrapped around them. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the sky, their icy touch brushing against Y/n’s cheeks as she walked alongside Kallias. He led her through the sweeping courtyard, the grandeur of the palace laid out before them like a kingdom untouched by time. The air felt still, the only sound being the crunch of their boots in the snow.

"I’m glad to see you settling in," Kallias said, his voice warm but with a subtle edge of concern. "Winter is... different, I know. But I’m glad you chose it as your place of peace."

Y/n glanced at him, her thoughts swirling. “I needed something... quiet. Somewhere to breathe,” she said, her tone soft.

“You’ve come far,” he observed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "But—" He hesitated, clearly unsure how to continue. "But why Winter? Why not the Night Court?"

Her stomach flipped at the mention of Rhysand, and she quickly deflected. “I think I just needed the distance,” she said, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “Rhysand has a lot on his plate, and I didn’t want to add to that.”

Kallias didn’t press her immediately, but his sharp eyes seemed to catch every tiny change in her expression, every flicker of discomfort. There was a brief silence, and then he changed the subject with a gentleness that surprised her.

“Well,” he said, his voice lighter now, “Winter may be cold, but it has its warmth in unexpected places. Take the ice gardens, for example.” He gestured toward the path ahead, where the glistening, frozen flowers seemed to sparkle like jewels in the sunlight. “The flowers are grown by our people, with care and patience. Something about them... they remind us of the resilience Winter offers.”

Y/n was entranced by the sight. The beauty of the ice flowers seemed to mirror her own thoughts—fragile, yet persistent. “They’re beautiful,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.

“They are,” Kallias agreed, his smile warming his face. “They remind me of my people. Of how, even in the harshest of winters, we find a way to thrive.”

They continued their walk, moving through the courtyard toward the training grounds. Y/n caught sight of some of Winter’s warriors practicing their skills, each of them moving with disciplined precision. There was a quiet power to them, a strength that seemed almost palpable.

“Winter warriors,” Kallias said, as if reading her thoughts. “They are the heart of our court. They defend these lands with their lives, and they do so without hesitation.”

Y/n watched them for a moment longer, her mind briefly wandering to what it would be like to be part of something so powerful. Her stomach tightened, but she quickly pushed the thought aside.

“They look... strong,” she commented, trying to distract herself.

“They are,” Kallias agreed with a hint of pride in his voice. He glanced at her, his gaze thoughtful. “I respect them deeply. They remind me that strength is not just physical—it's in how we weather the storms, how we carry on.”

As they continued, Kallias showed her more of Winter’s wonders: the grand library, where the ancient texts of Winter’s history were kept, and the quiet nursery, where young children played in the snow, their laughter ringing out like music to Y/n’s ears.

Seeing the children, Y/n’s chest tightened. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to watch her own child—her soon-to-be faeling—play and grow in a world that was, despite its trials, filled with warmth. The thought of their laughter, the innocence of childhood, made her heart swell. But just as quickly, that warmth faltered, a sharp pang of uncertainty twisting in her gut. She thought of the father, and the disappointment that would soon greet their child. The weight of that truth settled heavily in her chest, the lightness of the moment slipping away.

She let out a soft breath, unsure whether she should voice the thoughts swirling in her mind. But Kallias was beside her, his presence reassuring as always.

He caught her gaze and offered a small, knowing smile. "You'll find your peace here, Y/n. You’re not invisible to us. You never will be."

His words struck a chord deep within her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe it.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she entered the breakfast room. The space was like something out of a dream—a vision of comfort and warmth amidst the icy landscape. The walls were adorned with intricate ice carvings that seemed to shimmer in the pale light streaming through the large, open windows. The soft, crystalline glow of the snow outside reflected against the glass, casting a cool, blue light throughout the room. Fresh, crisp air drifted in through the open panes, filling the room with the scent of winter—clean, pure, and invigorating.

The centerpiece of the room was an exquisite ice glass table, its surface smooth and glistening. It was shaped in a perfect circle, almost like the moon itself, and it sat near the grand window, offering a panoramic view of the Winter Court's sprawling grounds. Snow-covered trees stretched as far as the eye could see, and the distant mountains were crowned with frost, standing tall and proud in the winter sky. The soft crunch of snow underfoot could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the occasional call of a bird soaring through the crisp morning air.

Kallias stood by the table, his tall figure framed by the sunlight streaming through the windows. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the coldness of the landscape outside, but it felt so comforting. It was a sanctuary.

Y/n stepped in, eyes wide as she took in the serene beauty of the room. She was still adjusting to being here, still unsure of what to expect. But the peaceful atmosphere seemed to ease her troubled thoughts, if only slightly.

She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Kallias, who had already moved toward the table, preparing to sit down. He looked back at her, his brow slightly raised, as though expecting her to join him.

“Wait… You’re having breakfast with me too?” Y/n asked, her voice betraying a slight edge of surprise.

Kallias paused, a faint expression of confusion crossing his face. “Yes. Why wouldn't I?”

She shrugged slightly, not wanting to delve too much into the strange discomfort she felt about it. "Shouldn’t you have some more important High Lord things to do? I mean... shouldn't you be dealing with other matters? Running a whole court?"

Kallias didn't miss a beat, his smile warm but firm as he cut her off. “My priority is making sure you’re well. You’re pregnant, alone in a new place, and probably in need of some company. Why wouldn't I stay and keep you company?" He gave a small, almost amused chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if the idea of leaving her alone was incomprehensible to him. "I would think this is the least I can do for you.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She was surprised by how matter-of-fact Kallias was about it—how easily he dismissed her discomfort with something so genuine. She didn’t have an answer for him, but she did feel a pang of something in her chest, something warm that slowly began to ease her wariness.

Before she could say anything further, he spoke again, his voice quieter, softer. “You’ve been through a lot, Y/n. And yes, Rhys isn't here. You may feel lonely, I can imagine. But I won’t leave you alone unless you ask me to.”

The mention of Rhys made something tighten in her chest. Her throat constricted as her mind flashed back to the months before—how his absence had felt like a cold void in her life. His distance, the fact that he had retreated into his "duties" and left her with little more than empty promises.

Kallias was right. She had been lonely, even before coming here. But she couldn’t—no, she shouldn’t—talk about that now. So instead, she just shrugged again, her voice faltering as she spoke, though she didn’t realize it. “Well, no... not really,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “He used to... he used to have breakfast with me every morning. But, since my pregnancy... he’s had more important things to do.”

Kallias froze, his hand still hovering near the back of the chair, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes darkened. His expression shifted from curiosity to something harder to define. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he masked it with a soft, reassuring smile. “More important things...” he repeated, his voice filled with an edge of something she couldn’t quite place.

He stepped forward, placing his hand gently on her shoulder, guiding her toward the table. “Y/n,” he said, his voice low and protective, “you are never an afterthought here. Not by me. You are never a burden or an inconvenience.” His eyes met hers, sincerity written in every word, every glance. “You are a priority. And so is your child.”

Y/n’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest at his words. She had never heard them from Rhys, not since the pregnancy began. She had heard about his ‘important work’ and his ‘obligations.’ She had heard about everything else except her.

Now she knew why.

Kallias pulled out the chair for her, and for a moment, she stood there, uncertain, before taking a seat. The table before her seemed so foreign, but oddly inviting—something about the simplicity of it soothed her in a way she couldn’t explain.

He pushed her chair in gently and moved around to the opposite side, where he seated himself as well. The silence between them felt comfortable, not awkward, and Y/n found herself leaning into it, a small part of her grateful for Kallias' presence.

That little breakfast marked the beginning of a new chapter in Y/n’s life. Her time in the Winter Court, now almost a week into her stay, had transformed from uncertainty to something more comfortable, more familiar. Kallias had seen to it that she was well taken care of. The warmth of the palace, the crisp air outside, and the peaceful surroundings made the months of her pregnancy bearable. Each day felt like a healing step, both physically and emotionally.

Her bump, now at eight months, had grown rounder, more pronounced. It was impossible to ignore, and though it felt heavy at times, there was also a sense of pride that came with carrying this new life inside of her. She was doing this. Alone, yes, but she was doing it. She could handle it. Or at least, she told herself that every morning as she slipped out of bed and prepared for the day.

Kallias had been a constant presence, always checking in on her, offering kind words, and inviting her to walks around the palace grounds. He was thoughtful in a way that made her feel safe, yet distant enough to allow her space when she needed it. He treated her with respect, never prying too much, but always there with a comforting smile when she needed it most.

But beneath the surface of this peaceful life, the nightmares never stopped. They came in waves, uninvited and unwelcome, twisting her mind with their brutality.

Rhysand’s betrayal still haunted her, even here, in this foreign place. There were moments when she would find herself dissociating, her gaze unfocused as her thoughts spiraled. It wasn’t just the constant ache of her loss, but the sudden, unbearable images that would flash before her eyes. Images of that night. Of Rhysand and Feyre in her bedroom, kissing, their bodies pressed together in a way that left no room for doubt. The dream replayed itself in her mind constantly, a sickening reminder of everything that had been ripped away from her.

She would blink, and the memory would vanish as quickly as it appeared, leaving her breathless, her chest tight. She couldn’t escape it. And yet, despite her aching heart, she pretended she was fine. She told herself that she was healing, moving on. Each day with Kallias felt like another layer of protection, a cocoon she’d built around herself to shield her from the past. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t truly healing. She was only pretending, masking the pain.

And Kallias knew. He saw through the facades, though he never asked about the cracks in her armor. His presence was gentle but insistent, like a steady hand on her back, urging her to heal in her own time.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t see the wounds.

One night, two weeks into her stay in Winter, she woke again to a nightmare.

The dream began like any other—a vision of Rhysand, of their time together, filled with love, tenderness, and hope. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, whispering promises of forever. She felt the warmth of his lips against hers, the love she had once known. It felt real. It felt like him. And for a moment, she allowed herself to believe in the dream—believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be the way they once were.

But then, as always, it turned. It warped.

His face twisted, his eyes cold. The warmth was gone. The love was gone.

“You’re not my mate, Y/n,” he spat, his voice cutting through her like a blade. “Feyre is. She always has been. So why don’t you just leave?”

Her heart shattered, her chest seizing with an unbearable ache as the words echoed in her mind. Why don’t you just leave?

She woke with a jolt, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. The room was too dark, too quiet, and the only thing that kept her grounded was the soft sound of her own ragged breathing. Her hands trembled as she wiped away the sweat from her forehead, trying to calm her shaking body.

But then, she felt it.

Warm arms—strong, steady—slid around her, pulling her against a solid chest. She froze, her heart racing, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Shh, it’s alright,” a soothing voice whispered, low and calm. “You’re safe.”

Y/n blinked, her thoughts hazy as she tried to make sense of what was happening. It took a moment for the fog to clear, and when it did, she saw him—Kallias, sitting beside her on the bed, his chest bare and his hair mussed from sleep. His worried eyes studied her face, his hands gently brushing the sweat-soaked strands of hair from her forehead.

“What... what are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice shaking as she struggled to regain her bearings.

Kallias didn’t answer her immediately, only pulling her closer, his arms tightening around her as if he could absorb the pain she was feeling. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, a rhythm that she clung to. She could feel the warmth of his skin against hers, but it wasn’t just physical warmth—there was an emotional depth there that made her want to melt into him.

“I felt your pain,” he murmured, his voice thick with concern. “I heard you calling out... shouting. You’re next to my room, and I couldn’t ignore it.”

Y/n blinked again, trying to process his words, the meaning of them, but her thoughts were foggy. He felt my pain?

But the thought quickly slipped away as she focused on the fact that he was here, now. Holding her. Her breath hitched as she whispered, “I... I’m sorry. What was I shouting? What happened?”

Kallias gave her a small, reassuring smile, though his eyes were still heavy with concern. “You were just shouting ‘no,’” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “That’s all.”

Y/n’s chest tightened, but relief flooded her. She hadn’t spoken about Rhys. He didn’t know.

But then, as quickly as the relief came, the memories of the nightmare returned. The cruel words Rhys had spoken—the betrayal, the rejection—tore through her heart again. Her breath caught, and her face crumpled as the tears started to fall. Uncontrollable, heart-wrenching sobs wracked her body as she clung to Kallias, burying her face in his chest.

He didn’t question her. Didn’t ask why she was crying, didn’t ask about Rhys. He just held her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as she cried. He held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, his strong arms never wavering.

Y/n’s chest shook with the intensity of her grief. It felt as though all the pain she had buried, all the hurt she had held inside, was finally being released. She wasn’t alone in this moment. Kallias was there, and he didn’t demand anything from her—he just was there.

She cried for what felt like hours, the weight of everything too much to carry. And when her sobs finally slowed, when the ache in her chest began to lessen, she pulled away slightly, her eyes red and puffy, her face blotchy.

Kallias’ gaze was soft, his worry still there, but now there was a quiet understanding in his eyes.

“You’re not alone,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I’m here, Y/n. I’m here for you.”

And for the first time in months, she allowed herself to believe it. She allowed herself to believe in the comfort he offered, the tenderness, the care.

For now, it was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/n didn’t feel invisible.

Snow drifted beyond the frost-lined windows of his study, the icy landscape of Winter Court bathed in a soft morning glow. The beauty of it should have brought him the usual sense of peace. Instead, Kallias found himself staring blankly at the papers in front of him, his mind elsewhere.

Or rather—on someone else.

Y/N.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. It had been a week since she arrived. Two weeks of watching her, observing the way she carried herself—like someone who was trying too hard to appear whole. At first glance, she looked well enough, but Kallias had always been perceptive. And Y/N… she was anything but fine.

She had come to Winter alone. Pregnant and alone.

That fact alone unsettled him.

How could Rhysand allow his supposed mate—his pregnant wife—to travel to another court by herself? If it were his mate, his wife, he would never—never—have let her out of his sight, let alone across Prythian.

The first day she arrived, he had noticed it.

Beneath the heavy cloak, beneath the graceful way she moved, something had been… off. She looked uncared for. Not in the sense that she was unkempt, but in the way a male should care for his pregnant beloved—fussing over her, ensuring her comfort, making sure she felt loved.

Kallias had tried to push the thought away. Surely, there was an explanation. Rhysand wasn’t a fool—he had always been a male who protected what was his. Yet, Y/N was here, alone. No messages from Rhysand. No sign of him even worrying about her absence.

Kallias drummed his fingers against the polished wood of his desk.

There were things he wasn’t being told. He could feel it.

And last night had only confirmed his suspicions.

The memory of her nightmare was still fresh in his mind—the frantic pull in his chest that had woken him, the way he had found himself running to her door before he even realized what he was doing. Her shouts, her fear. He had felt it like a blade to the ribs.

And when he found her, drenched in sweat and tears, sobbing into his arms…

His jaw tightened.

It had taken everything in him not to stay. Not to hold her until morning, until he knew for certain she would be all right. But she wasn’t his. She had never been his.

If only she knew.

If only she had ever noticed him properly before.

Kallias let out a low, bitter chuckle, shaking his head at himself. Pathetic. After all these years, the feeling had never truly left, had it? Even when he was barely a young High Lord, he had felt it—that pull toward her, the way she lit up every room she entered. She had been his first quiet longing, his other half, even before he fully understood what it meant. But she had already belonged to someone else.

And now, here she was, in his court, in his home, carrying another male’s child.

Kallias clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes for a moment.

He would not make a fool of himself. He would not fail her. She had come here, had chosen his court for her solace. He would be the sanctuary she needed—nothing more.

“Dare I ask what’s making you scowl like that?”

Kallias opened his eyes to find Marek, his second-in-command, watching him with raised brows, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. The male stood across the desk, setting down a stack of reports.

“Nothing,” Kallias said coolly, straightening in his seat.

Marek gave a skeptical hum before sitting in the chair opposite him. “Right. Nothing. Which is why you’ve been glaring at your desk like it personally offended you.” He exhaled, leaning back. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the High Lady of Night, would it?”

Kallias stiffened slightly but kept his face impassive. “She is a guest in my court.”

“She is a pregnant guest in your court,” Marek corrected, studying him. “Alone. Without her partner. Which, frankly, is something I didn’t think I’d ever see.” He shook his head. “Strange, isn’t it? That the great Rhysand would let his beloved travel alone, stay alone—especially now.”

Kallias remained silent, his fingers curling slightly against the desk.

Marek wasn’t wrong.

“That surprises you too, doesn’t it?” Marek pressed, tilting his head.

Kallias exhaled through his nose, glancing out the window before finally speaking. “I won’t pretend to understand the affairs of another court,” he said carefully. “But yes. It is… unexpected.”

Marek studied him for a moment before his lips twitched. “You’ve been softer lately.”

Kallias turned back to him, brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

Marek smirked, leaning his elbows on the desk. “Since she arrived, you’ve been… different. Softer.” His voice was laced with amusement.

Kallias scoffed. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, am I?” Marek drawled. “Because last I checked, you don’t usually look at guests like you’re ready to tear apart whatever put that sadness in their eyes.”

Kallias tensed but masked it with a blank stare. “You’ve had too much wine.”

Marek only chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe I just see what you refuse to admit.”

Kallias gave him a pointed look. “Enough.”

Marek’s smirk widened, but he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Back to business.” He slid a set of documents across the desk. “The plans for the new army base. You wanted to review the latest designs.”

Kallias exhaled, pushing aside the weight in his chest. “Good. Let’s go over them.”

Marek didn’t say another word on the matter, but the knowing gleam in his eyes remained.

And even as Kallias turned his attention to the documents before him, a single truth echoed in his mind—one he was desperately trying to ignore.

He was getting too close to her.

And he didn’t know if he could stop.

It started during a healer’s visit.

The Winter Court had its own healers, and Kallias, in his quiet, careful way, had made sure that Y/N had regular check-ups. He never pushed too hard, never insisted she take the treatments, but the way he made sure things were taken care of spoke volumes.

Today, he was sitting by the large window of her quarters, papers scattered across the table in front of him, though his attention kept drifting toward her. She hadn’t been feeling her best recently—more tired than usual, more distant—but the sight of him nearby always seemed to soothe her.

The healer, a soft-spoken male named Hesperos, was gentle and methodical in his examination, pressing his warm hands to Y/N’s swollen belly, murmuring soothing words of a spell. The healing magic rippled through her, a cool, peaceful energy.

“The baby is strong. Healthy,” Hesperos said with a smile. Y/N exhaled in relief, her shoulders relaxing.

Kallias, however, didn’t smile. His focus remained unwavering, but something about the way he was sitting, so quietly intense, made Y/N feel as though he was seeing through her. She didn’t know why it felt that way.

She smiled at the healer, her voice soft. “Thank you, Hesperos. I feel much better after every visit.”

Hesperos gave a warm chuckle. “It’s our job to make sure you do, my lady.”

But then, his expression shifted. He blinked, his hands pausing over her stomach. Y/N’s gaze flicked between him and Kallias, her stomach tightening slightly at the sudden tension in the room.

“Is something wrong?” Y/N asked, her voice shaking just a little.

The healer seemed almost uncertain, glancing at her before looking toward Kallias. His gaze lowered, his hands falling back to his sides. “My lady… I need to ask… Have you been under any extreme stress lately? Or emotional strain?”

Y/N blinked, frowning. “Stress?” she echoed, forcing a laugh. “I mean, of course, I’ve been tired lately, but—”

“No, it’s not just the fatigue,” Hesperos interrupted gently. “This is something more than simple exhaustion. I’m detecting some… emotional strain.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, her mind racing. She quickly shook her head, a forced chuckle escaping her lips. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve been resting well here. I haven’t been stressed. Everything’s fine.”

But there was a strange, almost skeptical look on Hesperos’s face. He leaned a bit closer, studying her carefully, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “What I’m sensing, it’s the kind of strain we see in those who’ve endured emotional trauma. Perhaps…during or maybe even before the pregnancy?”

A weight settled over her chest. She felt the breath catch in her throat, the room feeling suddenly too small. She could feel Kallias’s eyes on her now, sharp, calculating.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t know how to respond.

The healer, sensing her discomfort, withdrew slightly, his expression sympathetic. “It’s nothing too serious. The baby’s fine. But I would advise you to take some more time to care for your emotional well-being. Take it easy, my lady. Rest, and avoid any unnecessary stress.”

“Of course, of course,” Y/N replied quickly, nodding. “I’ve been resting plenty. I’ll take care of myself.”

Kallias hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t moved either. He was just staring at her, his jaw clenched, his hands folded on the table, his expression unreadable.

Y/N felt her heart race.

She looked away, suddenly feeling the weight of his gaze. She forced herself to look calm, to smile. “Nothing, Kallias. It’s nothing.”

But he wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed slightly, though his voice remained calm. “You’re hiding something from me.”

She shifted uncomfortably. Was this it? Was this where it all ended?

“I’m not hiding anything,” she said quickly, her voice tight. “I’m just… I’ve been through a lot, that’s all. And I’m pregnant.” She shrugged. “It’s normal.”

But he was still staring at her. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion.

Finally, he stood up from the chair. The motion was quick, almost as if he’d made a decision. His expression remained unreadable, but Y/N felt the tension in the air.

He walked toward the door without another word.

“Kallias?” Her voice barely broke the silence.

He paused at the door but didn’t turn around.

She didn’t know why, but she found herself standing, moving toward him. The instinct to reach out, to stop him, was stronger than the part of her that told her to stay still.

But before she could take another step, Kallias turned sharply, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I’ll be back in a moment.” And just like that, he left the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving her in a sea of confusion. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of his sudden departure. Was he angry? Disappointed? Did he think she was lying?

Why was he upset?

Y/N stood frozen in place, her heart heavy.

“Why does it feel like he’s mad at me?” she whispered under her breath. “What did I do?”

Her chest tightened with the rush of emotions.

She moved toward the window, staring out at the stark beauty of the Winter landscape, but it wasn’t the frozen scenery that filled her mind. It was him—Kallias’s withdrawn look, his darkened expression, the quiet fury in his eyes.

But maybe he was disgusted by her. Maybe she was too much of a burden. He’d been kind, too kind, and now, with everything she’d been holding inside, she probably had let it slip. He probably didn’t want to be around someone like her.

Just the thought made her stomach turn. She couldn’t hold on to his kindness forever.

Her gaze fell to the door, but just before she could even begin to move towards it, she was stopped by the healer, his expression soft and calm.

“My lady,” he said gently, his eyes full of understanding, “please, you can’t be running around with a belly like that.” He gestured to the comfortable chair by the window, urging her to sit back down. “Rest for now.”

Y/N nodded silently, sinking into the chair with a sigh. She was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally… physically.

But even as she closed her eyes and tried to push away her thoughts of Kallias, her mind kept returning to him. His departure had felt like something more than just irritation.

Was he disgusted by me?

Did he hate me now?

I’ve pushed him too far.

She closed her eyes tight, unable to stop the tears that pricked at her eyelids.

He barely felt himself move as he stormed out of the room.

His mind was spinning, his pulse roaring in his ears like a blizzard. The healer’s words echoed over and over again in his head.

Extreme stress. Emotional strain. Trauma.

And then—before the pregnancy.

Kallias’ hands curled into fists as he raced down the halls of his palace, his heart slamming against his ribs. His thoughts were a whirlwind, pieces snapping together, his worst suspicions solidifying into a devastating truth.

She wasn’t just struggling because of the pregnancy.

She had been suffering long before she ever arrived in Winter.

Kallias knew. He knew.

A growl ripped from his throat as rage flooded his veins. His magic surged, ice crackling at his fingertips as he barely managed to contain the violent storm building within him.

He wouldn’t contain it.

Not this time.

Not when she had been suffering in silence, not when she had been left like this, abandoned and alone, with his child growing inside her while she silently broke apart.

The halls blurred around him as he winnowed in a snap of ice-cold wind, the world bending to his fury.

The wards around the townhouse shattered the moment Kallias appeared.

The sheer force of his arrival cracked the air like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundations of the house.

Rhysand’s inner circle was gathered in the sitting room, locked in a heated argument, voices overlapping in tension and frustration.

“I can’t believe you—” Mor was snarling at Rhys, her hands clenched at her sides.

“She deserved better than this, Rhys,” Azriel’s voice was colder than night, his wings flaring slightly as he stood rigidly beside Cassian.

Feyre’s voice was tight. “I didn’t—”

“She probably hates us too because of the shit you dragged us into,” Cassian interrupted, his expression dark with disbelief.

And then, in a blink, the argument halted.

Because Kallias was suddenly there.

The moment he appeared, a bitter chill flooded the room, ice creeping along the floor, frost curling at the windows.

Rhys barely had time to react before Kallias launched at him.

“You little bastard.”

The words were venom, spat through clenched teeth, right before Kallias swung.

The impact was sharp, a solid hit to Rhysand’s jaw that sent him stumbling back. Gasps erupted around them—someone shouted Kallias’ name—but he wasn’t done.

Rhys recovered quickly, eyes flashing pure fury, and retaliated, his power snapping through the air as he tackled Kallias.

Fists flew, the sound of their bodies colliding shaking the very walls of the townhouse. Furniture splintered, ice and darkness clashing violently as Kallias slammed Rhys into the floor, his hands around his throat.

“How dare you,” Kallias seethed, his grip tightening. “How fucking dare you.”

Rhys wrenched free, throwing Kallias off him with a burst of raw power. Kallias skidded across the room, but he was already back on his feet, already lunging again—

Cassian and Azriel intervened.

Cassian caught Kallias, hauling him back with an iron grip, barely keeping him restrained. Azriel stood between them, his expression unreadable but watchful, wings flared wide.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Cassian bellowed, struggling to hold Kallias back.

Kallias didn’t answer. His gaze was still locked on Rhys, both of them breathing heavily, murder in their eyes.

Until his gaze shifted.

Feyre.

She was kneeling beside Rhys, her fingers gently brushing over his jaw, her eyes wide, lips parted slightly in concern.

That was all Kallias needed to confirm everything.

His stomach twisted, something cold and ugly settling in his chest.

His muscles tensed, and he shoved Cassian off him.

“When you saved us all from Under the Mountain,” Kallias said, his voice deadly quiet, his cold blue eyes settling on Feyre, “when I gave you a part of my power… I never thought I would ever regret it.”

A muscle ticked in Rhys’ jaw.

Kallias took a slow step forward, gaze flicking back to him.

“But now, standing here, seeing this ugly, pathetic scene before me, I feel nothing but regret. And disgust.”

Silence.

Feyre’s breath hitched, but Kallias ignored it.

His glare returned to Rhys, who still held his furious, defensive stance, though something uneasy flickered across his face.

Kallias bared his teeth. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to her?” His voice was quieter now, but sharper than shattered ice.

Rhys didn’t answer.

Kallias took another step, his fury rising again.

“If you wanted to break things off, you should’ve done it before putting a child in her. Before making her worry, before leaving her to suffer alone.”

A thick, heavy silence.

Everyone was watching.

Even Amren’s expression was unreadable, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Kallias’ voice rose.

“She has been having episodes where she freezes, clutching her belly and staring into nothing—” He gritted his teeth.“And when I bring her back, when I gently bring her back to the present, do you know what she does?” His laugh was cold. Cruel. “She smiles like nothing happened.”

Rhys’ face remained unreadable.

Kallias’ voice turned into a snarl.

“Do you know she has nightmares every gods-damned night? Almost as if she’s being reminded of your disgusting actions?”

Feyre flinched.

Kallias stepped even closer, furious now.

“And do you know, Rhysand—” His tone was filled with nothing but pure wrath now. “—that she has been doubting herself every moment? She’s been trying to hide it, but it’s killing her. From within.”

Rhys’ expression finally cracked. A flicker of guilt.

Kallias sneered.

And then, his voice dropped into ice-cold steel.

“You better apologize. On your knees.”

His words struck deep, the weight of them suffocating the room.

“Beg for her forgiveness, because you still have a gods-damned faeling on the way, and you best hope you can be a good father—at the very least.”

He took in Rhys’ barely concealed guilt, the tension crushing the room.

And then Kallias turned.

His parting words were quiet, but lethal.

“Because if you aren’t—” he gave one final, piercing glare “—I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your immortal life.”

And with that, he vanished, winnowing away in a gust of frozen wind.

Leaving behind nothing but a chilling silence.

An hour had passed since the healer had left. An hour of pacing, of restless hands wringing together, of her mind spiraling with thoughts she could not untangle.

Kallias was nowhere to be found. She had searched, called his name softly in the empty halls, but there had been no response. And with every passing moment, the worry in her chest grew, coiling tighter and tighter.

So when she finally stepped out of her room, heart pounding, she nearly missed him—almost didn't see him slipping into his own chambers, his hand on the door, about to shut it. But the soft click of her own door opening must have reached him, because he hesitated, head tilting slightly before turning fully to face her.

Their eyes collided.

And the first thing she noticed were the bruises—small but unmistakable wounds marring his otherwise perfect face. Red marks along his jaw. A faint cut near his cheekbone. His lower lip was slightly swollen.

She inhaled sharply.

There was only one being he would have fought like this.

Kallias remained silent, waiting for her reaction, and she sighed as she slowly stepped toward him. His fingers twitched on the door handle, as if torn between shutting himself away or—

The door opened.

Silently.

An unspoken invitation.

Y/N stepped inside, and Kallias shut the door behind her, locking it with a quiet click.

Her gaze flickered around the room—cold and grand, yet undeniably his. The heavy drapes of silver and midnight blue, the dark wooden furniture, the ever-present chill of winter that clung to the air but did not touch her skin. A fire crackled low in the hearth, barely illuminating the carved designs along the high ceiling. It was neat, yet something about it felt untouched. As if no one had lived in it for too long.

When she turned back to him, Kallias was still watching her. Silently. Intently.

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly.

“Do you have any tonics or salves?” she asked, voice softer than she expected.

A slow, almost dazed nod. Then, without a word, he turned and led her toward an adjoining washroom.

She took what she needed—her fingers grazing along the neatly arranged bottles, picking out the ones that would soothe the swelling, heal the cuts. Then, guiding him back to the bedroom, she pressed gently on his chest, urging him to sit at the edge of the bed.

Kallias obeyed.

And when she stepped between his legs, pressing a cloth to his jaw, she felt the way his body stiffened beneath her touch. Not from pain—but from something else entirely.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged.

Until finally, she whispered, “I take it you’re aware of the situation now?”

A slow nod. Then, just as softly, he whispered back, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her hand faltered for a second before she resumed dabbing at his jaw.

“What difference would it have made?” she murmured. “You and I… we weren’t that close.”

A mistake.

Because in the next heartbeat, his hand rose—gently but firmly clasping her wrist, halting her movements.

She looked at him, confused, but his grip did not waver.

“If only you ever gave me a chance,” Kallias whispered.

Her breath caught.

“What?”

His eyes burned with something raw, something centuries-old.

“If only you ever looked outside your bubble with Rhysand,” he continued, voice thick with emotion, “and saw me. Saw that I was there for you—heart and soul, every moment, wishing for you to be mine.”

The words slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs.

She stepped back, barely registering the cloth slipping from her hands.

“What?” she repeated, disbelieving.

Kallias stood, not letting her distance herself.

“Do you know what a painful feeling it is to watch your mate be in love and carry another male’s child?” His voice cracked—just slightly. But his expression remained steady, unwavering. “To give her heart to him?”

Her mouth parted, but no words came out.

Mate.

He knew.

He knew.

“You knew I was your mate?” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

A sad, almost broken smile touched his lips.

“I’ve known for nearly two hundred years.”

She felt dizzy.

“I felt it the moment I saw you,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower, more vulnerable. “And since then, I always felt you. Every moment. Every breath. During those fifty years under the mountain, I couldn’t feel you through Amarantha’s magic—but my thoughts were with you. Always with you.”

Her eyes burned.

“And after we were free…” He let out a shuddering breath. “You have no idea how overjoyed I was just to feel you through the bond again.”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “The moment I was told you were pregnant, I wasn’t surprised. But I was still in pain. The weeks and months after that were no different.”

Y/N’s lips trembled.

“But that night,” Kallias whispered. “That night I felt great pain coming from you. And the next day, I had my reply sent to you.”

Her breath hitched.

“The night I found them kissing,” she murmured in realization.

His expression darkened, rage flickering across his face before he took a steady breath.

“I tried keeping this a secret,” he admitted. “I tried my best, Y/N. But…” His voice thickened with emotion. “I have already hidden this for two hundred years. I can’t do this anymore.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I understand if you need time to process it all,” he whispered. “But please, I hope you won’t be disappointed.”

She didn’t know what to say.

Didn’t know how to respond to this revelation that shattered everything she thought she knew.

“I…” She swallowed hard. “I need time to process. I am… I don’t—I don’t know what to say or do.”

Kallias held her gaze, his eyes filled with something unreadable.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he murmured. “Just be confident in your decision. Whatever it may be.”

She looked away, blinking back the tears.

Then, slowly, she turned toward the door.

She hesitated—just for a moment.

Then left.

And behind her, Kallias stood still in the center of the room, watching her go.

The days passed, but the weight of Kallias’ words did not fade.

If anything, they lingered. Clung to her skin, to her mind, to her soul.

She had not spoken to him about it since that night. Not because she didn’t want to—but because she didn’t know how.

Her mate.

Her mate, and he had known for nearly two hundred years.

She hadn’t known what to do with that information. She still didn’t.

So she had done what she always did. She buried it. She carried on. She let the days slip into nights, avoiding him when she could, enduring the unbearable tension when she couldn’t.

But she felt him everywhere.

Felt him in the way his gaze lingered on her across the dining table. In the way his presence filled the room the second he entered it, like winter itself bending to accommodate his power.

In the way her body, despite her protests, was aware of him.

Kallias, however, did not push.

He did not corner her, did not force her into another conversation about what he had revealed.

But that did not mean the tension between them had lessened. If anything, it had thickened.

And at night, when sleep refused to claim her, her mind would return to him.

How had she never seen it? Never felt it?

The way he looked at her. The way his voice softened ever so slightly when he spoke to her. The way his magic, cool and crisp as fresh snow, had always sought hers.

Rhysand had been her world for so long. She had loved him, given him everything. She had never once thought to look elsewhere.

But now—now, she had to.

And it terrified her.

So when another sleepless night came, when she found herself tossing and turning in her sheets, mind refusing to quiet, she could no longer take it.

A pull.

It tugged at her insides, restless and unrelenting.

She didn’t think. She simply obeyed it.

Throwing back her covers, she slid on a robe over her thin nightgown and padded barefoot out of her room.

The halls were silent, the moonlight casting long shadows along the frost-covered floors.

She didn’t need to wonder where she was going.

She already knew.

Her feet carried her straight to Kallias’ office, the pull within her intensifying the closer she got.

The door was slightly ajar, and when she reached it, she hesitated.

Then, taking a steadying breath, she pushed it open.

He was there.

Sitting behind his grand desk, head buried in documents, the glow of candlelight flickering against his sharp features.

He did not move at first.

But then—he stilled.

As if sensing her.

And when he slowly lifted his head, his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers.

The room suddenly felt too small. Too warm.

And that was when she realized—

She had come in wearing only her nightgown and robe.

A thin nightgown.

One that clung to her, that left very little to the imagination.

His gaze ran over her, darkening as it fell to her now prominent belly, before slowly trailing back up to her face.

She swallowed hard, cursing herself.

His voice was quiet, unreadable. “Y/N.”

She forced herself to clear her throat. Forced herself to hold his stare, despite the way it made her entire body feel like it was burning.

“I…” She inhaled deeply. “I came to ask some questions.”

Kallias did not move. Did not look away.

His gaze remained fixed on her, heavy and waiting.

When she did not immediately continue, he arched a single, silver brow.

“Ask them,” he murmured.

She tried to collect her thoughts, tried to remember why she had come here in the first place.

“Why?” she finally breathed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

His expression did not shift.

But when she kept going, words spilling from her lips in a desperate attempt to understand—

He cut her off.

Smoothly.

Calmly.

“Do you want the answers or not?”

She stopped mid-sentence, mouth slightly parted.

And then—slowly—she nodded.

Kallias rose from his chair.

Her stomach clenched.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he stepped around the desk, rounding it towards her.

His eyes never left her.

With each step he took, he answered.

“I didn’t tell you,” he said, voice low, steady, intense, “because you were in love with another. Because I wanted you to choose me for me, not because fate dictated it.”

Another step.

“I didn’t tell you,” he continued, “because I saw the way you looked at him. And I knew you never looked at me the same.”

Another step.

Closer.

Her breath hitched, but she did not move.

By the time he stopped, they were chest to chest.

She was close enough to see the faint scar above his eyebrow, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him despite the cold magic always humming beneath his skin.

Her heart pounded.

And when her gaze—without her permission—dropped to his lips, Kallias’ jaw tightened.

“Stop tempting me,” he murmured.

Her breath came unevenly.

“I’m not doing anything,” she whispered.

A low, quiet growl.

“Your existence is enough to tempt me,” he said, his voice raw. “Everything you do. Everything you wear. It tempts me.”

She didn’t know what came over her.

Perhaps it was the way his voice had turned rough, husky.

Perhaps it was the way his hands twitched at his sides, as if restraining themselves from reaching for her.

Perhaps it was the way her own body reacted to him, to his closeness, to the sheer, undeniable pull between them.

An urge.

A reckless, uncontrollable urge to kiss him.

Her fingers twitched.

Her breath mingled with his.

His hands fisted at his sides.

But instead—

Instead, she ran.

She took a sharp step back, nearly stumbling over herself as she turned away and hurried out of the room.

She did not stop.

Not when she reached her chambers.

Not when she collapsed onto her bed, heart racing, skin burning.

She did not stop.

But she cursed herself the entire time.

A month.

It had been a month since she had arrived in Winter.

A month since she had learned the truth.

A month since her world had shifted beneath her feet.

And now—

Now, she was nine months pregnant.

Due any day.

Y/N exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her swollen belly as she gazed across the gardens of ice and snow.

It was breathtaking. A masterpiece of nature and magic intertwined.

Frozen roses glistened beneath the pale sunlight. Delicate trees, their branches coated in frost, stood tall against the clear blue sky. The air was crisp, biting against her skin, but she welcomed the cold.

It grounded her.

Unlike her thoughts. Unlike the turmoil that had been storming within her since that night in Kallias’ office.

Since she had nearly kissed him.

Since she had run.

She had avoided him even more after that. Refused to be alone with him. Refused to give him the chance to speak to her about what had happened.

But it hadn’t stopped her from feeling him.

Hadn’t stopped her from being aware of him every time he was near.

Hadn’t stopped the dreams.

The ones where his voice, husky and low, whispered to her in the darkness.

Where his hands, warm despite his magic, held her.

Where his lips—

She exhaled sharply, cutting off the thought before it could fully form.

No.

No, she wouldn’t think of that.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she focused on the silence around her. The stillness. The temporary peace that came with the gardens.

Until—

She felt it.

Him.

His presence.

A familiar, steady weight pressing against her senses.

The air seemed to shift, thickening with something unspoken.

And then—

Slow, measured steps against the snow.

She knew it was him before she even turned.

And when she did—

Her breath caught.

Kallias strolled into the gardens with an effortless grace that only he possessed.

His white hair gleamed beneath the sun, tousled just enough to make her wonder if he had run a hand through it in frustration. His sharp jawline was dusted with the barest hint of stubble, making him look unfairly handsome.

He was dressed in his usual pristine attire, the elegant fabric emphasizing his powerful frame.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that made her heart stutter.

It was his eyes.

Icy blue, watching her softly.

Unwavering.

She turned away immediately, forcing herself to focus on the frozen roses once more.

She wouldn’t do this.

Wouldn’t stand here and pretend her body didn’t react to his presence.

Wouldn’t pretend her heart didn’t ache with confusion every time she looked at him.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She tried to leave.

But the moment she took a step forward, his voice—deep, steady, commanding—cut through the air.

"You can't keep running away from everything."

She froze.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her hands tightening around the edges of her robe.

Her lips curled slightly. "I can try."

His expression didn’t change. But something flickered in his eyes.

A mixture of exasperation. And something else. Something deeper.

"You are impossibly stubborn," he murmured, stepping closer.

"And you are impossibly persistent," she shot back, lifting her chin.

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "It seems we have that in common, then."

She pressed her lips together, unsure how to respond.

Kallias took another step, his gaze sweeping over her face, then down to her belly.

She expected him to stop there, but his eyes softened—so much it nearly hurt to look at.

"You're due any day now," he murmured.

Her throat tightened. "I know."

Another step.

Closer.

"Are you well?" he asked, voice quieter. "Do you need anything?"

The sincerity in his voice, in his concern, made her pulse stammer.

She opened her mouth, hesitated, then asked the question that had been clawing at her for weeks.

"Why do you care?"

Kallias blinked.

His brows furrowed slightly, as if the question confused him.

Her throat worked as she swallowed.

"The faeling," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you care for my baby when you know they are from another male?"

Silence.

A beat passed.

Then another.

And then—

Kallias’ expression softened in a way she had never seen before.

Slowly, he stepped closer.

And before she could move, before she could stop him—

He gently grasped her arms.

His touch was careful. Warm.

And when he spoke, his voice was so quiet, so reverent, that she could hardly breathe.

"Because it is not the baby’s fault to have such a father."

Her chest tightened.

"Because none of this is their fault."

Her vision blurred.

"Because they are yours. And that is all that matters to me."

Her breath shuddered out of her.

Something inside her cracked.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

Kallias’ fingers twitched against her arms.

And then—slowly, hesitantly—he reached up and brushed the tear away with the back of his knuckles.

The touch was light. Barely there.

But it made her stomach flip nonetheless.

She parted her lips, wanting to say something—anything—when—

A throat cleared.

Both of them stiffened.

The moment shattered.

Y/N turned her head—and felt the breath get knocked from her lungs.

Behind the servant standing in the archway of the gardens—

Stood Rhysand.

Her heart stopped.

The servant bowed slightly before addressing Kallias.

"High Lord Rhysand of Night, Your Grace."

The moment the words left the servant’s mouth, Kallias went utterly, dangerously still.

Y/N barely had time to react before Kallias’ arm pressed lightly against her, a silent yet firm movement as he pushed her behind him.

As if shielding her.

As if Rhys was a threat.

Her lips parted, her entire body locking in place as Kallias stepped forward, dismissing the servant without even looking at him.

Rhysand’s violet eyes flickered between them.

Between her.

Between Kallias.

Between where Kallias had moved to shield her.

And in that moment—

In that heartbeat of silence—

She knew.

Everything was about to change.

The air was thick with tension.

Y/N barely breathed as she peeked out from behind Kallias' broad frame, her heart hammering.

Rhysand stood just beyond them, his violet eyes unreadable, his wings tucked in tight, his hands flexing at his sides.

But she saw it.

The hesitation.

The hurt.

The way his gaze flickered—between her, between Kallias, between the space Kallias had deliberately placed between them. Between the connection he clearly saw.

He swallowed, composing himself with a slow inhale before exhaling heavily, his face blanking out.

Finally, he spoke.

"May we…" His voice was quieter than she expected, rough.

A pause.

A hesitation.

He sighed before trying again, voice steadier, though there was something raw beneath it.

"May we have a talk?"

Y/N sucked in a breath.

She felt Kallias tense beside her, his body a solid wall of unwavering strength. His eyes never left Rhys, cold and sharp as ice, watching every move the High Lord of Night made.

But he didn’t stop her.

Didn’t argue when she stepped forward, gently brushing past him.

Still, before she moved completely out of his reach, she turned.

A small, real smile—one just for him.

"Don’t worry," she murmured, holding his gaze. "I need this."

Kallias’ icy blue eyes softened.

A barely-there nod. Understanding.

"I will be nearby," he promised, voice quiet.

But when he turned to Rhys, his gaze hardened, a silent death glare that sent a chill through the air.

Y/N ignored it.

Instead, she led Rhysand a little further away, her posture shifting.

Gone was the hesitance, the uncertainty.

The second she turned to face him again, her entire demeanor changed.

Her voice was sharp. Cold.

"Talk."

Rhysand exhaled, his expression twisting as if it physically pained him to begin.

But he did.

From the start.

From Under the Mountain.

From the moment Amarantha had taken him, from the moment he had felt something shifting deep in his soul, long before Feyre had even arrived to save them.

How he had suspected Feyre was his mate before she had even set foot in that cursed place.

How the bond had begun pulling at him, whispering, nudging, long before she had even known him.

How, during every trial Feyre endured, during every moment of her suffering, his instincts screamed at him—protect her, protect her, protect her.

How, by the time she had finally saved them all, finally broken the curse—

"By then," he murmured, his voice nearly shaking, "I already felt the bond snap into place for me."

Y/N stilled.

A cold, hollow silence stretched between them.

Rhys swallowed.

"So when I arrived back home—to you. To Mor. I already knew."

A sharp, bitter laugh left her lips.

Of course.

Of course.

Her heart clenched, but she smiled—a twisted, cold thing.

"I should’ve known."

Rhys flinched.

"Because you weren’t yourself from the moment you came back."

Her voice wavered, but she didn’t stop.

"Always hesitating to touch me. Always distracted. Always—" She let out another humorless laugh, shaking her head. "I’m surprised I’m even pregnant right now."

Rhys’ jaw clenched, shame clouding his features.

"Y/N—"

"Save it," she snapped.

But he didn’t stop.

He explained everything.

Why he kept disappearing at night.

Why he had been gone for days at a time.

How, when Feyre and Tamlin were about to be wed, the bond had pulled him to her so strongly that he had to interfere—had to take her.

How he had been with her every time he was not with Y/N.

And how he had hidden it.

Lied.

Made her doubt herself.

Her hands curled into fists.

Her voice was softer when she spoke next, but it was far colder.

"All this time," she murmured.

Rhys stilled.

"All this time," she repeated, her voice shaking just slightly, "I had eyes only for you."

Her breath hitched.

"And yet—"

She met his gaze, let him see the truth in her eyes.

"Kallias has been my true mate all along."

Rhysand froze.

His entire body went rigid.

"What?"

A small, cruel smile touched her lips.

"You heard me."

Rhys shook his head slightly, as if trying to process it.

As if he hadn’t even considered it.

"Kallias is my mate," she continued, voice firm.

And this time, she felt it—the truth of the words, settling into her very bones.

Rhys looked… devastated.

"I—" He faltered.

But she didn’t care.

"I understand," she said, voice cold, "that Feyre is your mate."

Her fingers clenched at her sides.

"Because now that I have found my mate—" Her voice wavered. "I know what it feels like."

Rhys opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"But hiding it?" Her eyes burned. "Making me doubt myself? Hate myself? Making me feel like I was losing you because of something I did?"

Her voice cracked.

"I won’t ever forgive you for that."

Rhysand flinched as if struck.

But she wasn’t done.

"But we have a child together."

His gaze snapped to hers.

"At least tell me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "that you will be a good father to them."

Rhys’ lips parted, his expression crumbling.

"Of course," he breathed, "of course, I will—"

But before he could finish, before he could even take a step forward—

Y/N gasped.

Pain. Sharp and sudden.

She clutched her stomach.

Her knees nearly buckled.

"My—" She gasped again, her body tensing.

Rhys’ eyes went wide.

"Y/N?"

"My water—" Her breath hitched. "The baby—the baby is coming!"

Chaos erupted.

Before she could even register what was happening, Kallias was there.

Instant. Immediate.

Rhys barely had time to react before Kallias shoved him aside, reaching for her.

"I’ve got you," Kallias murmured, his arms strong as he lifted her effortlessly into his hold.

She barely registered Rhys following as Kallias carried her inside, barking orders.

Midwives. Midwives were summoned at once, servants scrambling.

She clung to Kallias, her breath sharp, her body burning as the contractions began to intensify.

"I’m here," Kallias murmured against her forehead.

Her vision blurred.

"You’re not alone, starlight."

Rhys followed.

Kallias did not acknowledge him.

Not as he carried her into her chambers.

Not as he lowered her onto the prepared bed.

Not as he whispered, over and over, words only meant for her.

Words of comfort.

Words of devotion.

Words that Rhysand would never say again.

The room was dimly lit, the scent of lavender and fresh linens thick in the air as Y/N lay on the soft sheets, utterly exhausted. But despite the ache in her body, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had led up to this moment, her heart was full—because in her arms lay a tiny, fragile miracle.

Her daughter.

She traced the baby’s delicate features, her small nose, her plump little lips, the faintest dusting of dark lashes against rosy cheeks. She was warm, impossibly tiny, and perfect.

Rhysand sat in the chair beside the bed, unusually silent. He had not left. He had not even tried to. Instead, he was staring at their child with something so raw in his expression that, for the first time in a long while, Y/N saw him not as her betrayer but as a father.

“She has your nose,” Rhys murmured after a long pause, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

Y/N huffed softly, tilting her head. “But your lips,” she countered, smoothing a thumb over the baby’s pout.

Rhys gave a small, breathless chuckle, his violet eyes bright as he leaned in just a little closer. “And your cheeks. She’s going to be so beautiful, just like her mother.”

For a fleeting second, a warm, nostalgic peace settled between them. An understanding. An unspoken acknowledgment of the life they had created together.

Then Y/N’s expression hardened. “Now that you have a daughter, you better pray she never meets a male like you.”

Rhys inhaled sharply, clearly stung. But instead of responding with guilt, his lips pressed into a determined line, his violet eyes flashing with something fiercely protective. “I would kill any male who ever hurt my princess.” He softened immediately after, gently extending his hands. “May I?”

Y/N hesitated but eventually nodded. She watched as Rhys cradled their daughter in his arms, his touch reverent, as if he were holding something sacred.

He was utterly enchanted, whispering soft words to the little girl, pressing the lightest kiss to her forehead. And for a moment, Y/N could see the father he was meant to be—the father he would be.

But she could not let that soften her resolve.

“I believe by now you know,” she murmured, folding her hands over her lap, “that I will be staying here permanently. With my mate.”

Rhys visibly tensed. His gaze flickered to her, pain swimming in his violet eyes. “Y/N…”

She shook her head, unwilling to hear whatever argument he might have.

Instead, Rhys exhaled sharply, adjusting the baby in his arms. “When she comes to Velaris, you too—”

“Not now.” Y/N cut him off, her voice firm. “I won’t be coming anytime soon.”

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to protest, but he swallowed it down.

Y/N, however, turned her full attention back to her baby, brushing a finger over her tiny fingers, smiling as they wrapped around hers. In a playful, sing-song voice, she cooed, “But Uncles Cas and Az, and Aunties Mor and Amren—they are always welcome here, aren’t they? Yes, they are.”

Rhys sucked in a slow breath. She saw the way it gutted him, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. But he nodded. “Of course.”

They spoke a little longer, quietly agreeing on how they would co-parent, what would be best for the child. But when Rhys finally murmured, “Y/N… I am so sorry. And Feyre is also—”

She didn’t let him finish.

“Save it,” she said coldly, her gaze snapping back to his. “You may leave now. You saw the baby. Come back tomorrow, if you will. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Rhys looked like he had a thousand more things to say, but he only nodded slowly, gently placing the baby back in Y/N’s arms before standing. He hesitated at the door.

“Call Kallias in,” she ordered, her voice unrelenting.

Rhys turned to leave without another word.

And the moment Kallias entered the room, Y/N’s body instinctively relaxed.

He was by her side in an instant, his ice-blue eyes full of nothing but love as he settled beside her, tucking a strand of damp hair from her face.

“She’s perfect,” he murmured, gazing down at the baby. “Just like her mother.”

Y/N exhaled a soft laugh, her lips curving up. And as she looked at him, at his pure, unwavering devotion, she felt a shift deep within herself. A warmth. A certainty.

“I accept,” she whispered.

Kallias stilled, his brows drawing together slightly.

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I accept you as my mate, Kal. And I’m so sorry I never paid you the attention you deserved before.”

Kallias blinked, stunned for only a second before his expression softened into something radiant, something home. He reached for her free hand, bringing it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my love,” he murmured, cradling both her and their child in his arms. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, but for the first time in months, it was not from pain.

Kallias leaned down, brushing a feather-light kiss to her lips. It was slow, lingering, full of unspoken promises.

When he pulled away, he smirked, his thumb tracing circles along the back of her hand. “Get well soon, my beautiful High Lady. I have a coronation to plan for you.”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh.“You seriously would do that?”

He only grinned. “You deserve it. The Night Court never deserved you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched, and she leaned into him as he cocooned her and their daughter in his arms.

Kallias pressed another kiss to her temple and whispered, “But before that… our mating ceremony.”

Y/N giggled softly, curling into him.

Home.

She had finally found home.

----------------------------------------------------------

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[libraford]

Ok. It's day 2 of recovery from my hysterectomy so I thought I'd tell yall about it.

It sucks. Ooooh lord am I in a lot of pain. But the pain is predictable, unlike menstrual clots the size of my fist.

A bunch of yall are interested in getting a hysterectomy for yourselves. I think every experience is somewhat unique, but here's what happened to me.

You will get phone calls from billing. You do not have to pay over the phone. But they will ask your demographic information and contact info for anyone that's going to be in the waiting room.

You are not allowed to eat or drink after midnight prior to your surgery. This includes water. Plan to wear loose clothing- I wore a tank dress and drawstring pants.

You will not be able to drive. Someone needs to drive you to and from the hospital. If your surgery is at 7:30, they want you there at 5:30. They will ask you your demographic information again. They will give you a big sheet of stickers with your name on it. The staff will trade these around and put them on everything related to you. You get a bracelet with your sticker on it.

Once you're at intake, expect the usual medical stuff. They will take weight, height, urine sample, blood sample, blood pressure, check you're heart and lungs. You will put all your clothes and shoes in a bag with your name on it. I left my phone and wallet with my girlfriend. You will get into an uncomfortable hospital gown. They will hook you up to an IV.

And then you will wait. For a fuckin long ass time. In this time, you will be visited by three doctors- your RN, your anesthesiologist, and your surgeon. You may also be visited by various interns, which makes you wonder just how many people are here to gawk at your fibroid. You are allowed to have a visitor.

You will eavesdrop on conversations happening outside your prep room. You have no choice in this.

Your surgeon will arrive and hand you a waiver basically saying 'I give you permission to cut into me with lasers.' You've signed this before, but now they are making sure. My operation was supposed to be laparoscopic (removed through the vagina) but I was informed that if the fibroid is bigger than they expected, they may make incisions near the bikini line or near the bellybutton. I gave them permission to do what they needed to do this safely.

Then your anesthesiologist comes back, puts something in your IV, it feels cold, and pulls up the bars on you bed to wheel you into the operation room. You are greeted by every person that came by your prep room.

I konked out when they put the oxygen mask on.

And then I woke up.

It was supposed to be only 2 hours, but I woke up 4 hours later in a separate room. Brand new nurse, checks your vitals, gives you some reassuring words, and then instructs you to, at your own pace, get up and move to a wheelchair. It's fucking freezing in this room.

You have zero core strength right now. Getting up is the hardest shit ever. She instructed me to take a half breath in, sit up on the slow outbreath, and then do it again while standing, then again to sit back down again.

They wheel you into a waiting room and call your family in. I had a burning desire to tell my girlfriend she's intensely beautiful.

My skin had a reaction to the hair net they had on me, so I have a rash on my face. They put a catheter in your throat to help with breathing, which gave me a sore throat, but I think they also gave me a cut in the back of my throat, which is annoying because it's affecting things like swallowing and drainage.

It was supposed to be three incisions. It's actually five. My girlfriend tells me that my surgeon indicated that the fibroid was the size of a cantaloupe, rather than the original suspected size of a grapefruit and now I want a fruit salad.

Once you are settled, the nurse will try to get you to stand again and she will try to get you to use the bathroom to check your stool.

Once that's cleared, she'll hand you your clothes and you can slowly get dressed. Do not rush this, pants are hard.

I sent my parents to get my meds and my girlfriend to get the car.

Nurse wheels me out to the curb, one two three half-breath, breathe out, stand, get in the car and go.

They gave me ibuprofen, Tylenol, and oxycontin. I'm told to take the oxy at night so it knocks me out, and switch pills every six hours. Oxy will make you constipated, they gave me miralax. You can eat whatever you want, but oxy does reduce your appetite.

When it comes to recovery, oh God does it hurt. You will have vaginal bleeding but it's not very much, at least compared to my typical period and there was no blood the next day.

You are encouraged to rest, but not to be in bed the whole time, so find some things to do while sitting upright. When you're in bed, make sure your head and back are supported. It's hard as fuck to go from laying down to sitting up if you need to go to the bathroom.

In preparation for having zero core strength for awhile, I bought a walking cane and a walker. The walker is for helping me lower down to the toilet.

But I'm on day 2 of recovery and I'm feeling better than I was yesterday. I can already feel a difference in my bladder control now that I don't have the fibroid pressing down on it.

Looking forward to feeling normal again.

[soleilapproves]

Lucid Submission - chapter 3

Synopsis: Sukuna Ryomen is reborn as a human being as punishment for ruining the balance of good and evil in the divine realm. To lift his curse and return to his original form, the former demon king must complete the condition bestowed upon him by the deities. Except it can only be done by having a child with the street thief who stole his coin pouch.

fanfic masterlist

You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep that night. You could feel each tired vein in your eyelids latching on to every bit of rest they could get every time you blinked. You looked down and cursed yourself for being so fearfully compliant with your new husband. His heavy arms encased around you like he was sure you would run away. 

He chuffed like a stallion every time he snored into your neck, terrifying you to your core as you tried to make as much space between yourselves as possible. Of course, your efforts were in vain as he made sure that you would not be able to move an inch while lying next to him. Much too paranoid about his ‘pearl disappearing.’

The rest of the day after the wedding was dull. Uraume had left with Sukuna for some urgent merchant business (apparently, he controlled many ports around the area), while Yuuji and Megumi went to train little children at a local school. Nobara wasn’t much of a conversationalist, only choosing to observe you–possibly to see how you could plan to escape.

Your life as a thief wasn’t as exciting as being a rich wife, but at least you had the repugnant thrill of constant aversion. All the riches that came with being Sukuna Ryomen’s wife made you cautious, like your new comfortable lifestyle would be snatched away as soon as you got used to it.

But it wasn’t like you planned to stay that long anyway. Any kind of freedom was going to be better than staying as an egotistical rich man’s wife–a life so suffocating and mundane that even the poor wouldn’t dare dream of living it. 

The claustrophobia was now in its final course of setting into the core of your chest. You scratched and slapped the arms that held you, hoping for some kind of relief. Mental or physical. Sukuna grunted and simply turned, taking you with him. Your body now splayed on top of his, arms holding you still against his chest as your face mushed against his collarbone. His scent enveloped you even more, now becoming the air you breathed. If you didn’t crave worldly freedom so much, you would’ve held your breath and surrendered to a supposed afterlife. 

“Lord Sukuna, I wish to ask you something,” you mumbled into his neck. The man didn’t even let out a grumble of acknowledgment. “I also cannot breathe.” 

Your husband yawned loudly as he mumbled incoherent words. The deep rumble in his chest managed to jolt you like you were a feeble doe. Legs quivering and heart racing. He wasn’t much different from an animal, either. A monstrous bear, tiger, or any uncomfortably large and loud beast would suit him best.

He rolled you back down to the mat you two were sleeping on. However, before you could get up and finally breathe air that didn’t smell like herbs and possibly blood, the man rolled on top of you, pressing his heavy frame on your body. You were afraid that he would be able to feel your racing heart with the way his chest pressed flat against yours. At least his eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see your sheer terror.

“You must take me for a fool if you think that I am falling for your little thief tricks. Lying and scheming are your forte, are they not?”

“Lord Sukuna, please, let your wife at least live for a few days before killing her. It will give you more satisfaction,” you quipped, prideful even during your panicky state. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

“Tongue still sharp as ever, even in the dead of the night. Had I been in my former glory, you would not have been so quick to reply like that.” 

“My sharp tongue comes with my body that you have forcefully married.” His tired red eyes rolled at your response. “What is it that you wished to ask me, wife?” You try not to shiver at his reference to you. 

“I wish to… relief myself.” 

He silently blinked at you before groaning and pulling out a small pebble from underneath his side of the tatami mattress. He threw it across the room, hitting the paper sheet of the sliding door. Curious, you frowned at the sound of slight rustling outside your room.

The door slid open to a grimacing Nobara. “At least warn me before I see something like this.” You could see her blench as she rubbed her eyes.

You gasped as you pushed your husband off, who was now more compliant with you. You yanked the covers off you and threw them at your husband, who was lying with his arms across his face. “You are lucky I am tired, wife.” 

Your chest ached slightly when you saw the tatami mattress right outside your bedroom door. Your years of hardship may have turned you a little selfish, but you still had a heart. It felt like seeing a bleary-eyed little sister waiting for you after your long journey.

“Were you cold?” you asked as you followed her out to the water closet. “I have not felt even the chill of spring nights under the care of Master Sukuna,” she responds curtly. 

You stop in your tracks, and so does she. The snow blankets everything—all your thoughts, worries, and concerns. “I do not actually want to go to the water closet. I just wished myself a moment. If it is possible, can we sit outside for a few minutes?” 

It felt strange asking someone younger for permission, but you let it slide. It’s not like living as a thief made you a stickler for the rules. “Few minutes.” She walks you back to the estate’s courtyard, and you both sit side by side, covered in warm robes, watching the snowfall. The large cherry tree in the middle of the courtyard was now almost entirely white. 

You didn’t expect any kind of camaraderie from Nobara. Your cases were wildly different–you were a ratty and uncivilized thief picked off the street to be Sukuna Ryomen’s wife, while Nobara was a uniformed…soldier. To be quite honest, you weren’t sure what to refer to her as. Her skills as a fighter were too sharp for her to be called a simple maid.

There was something more to her; you were sure of it. Her tone was too harsh to be a nobleman or aristocrat’s daughter–perhaps a merchant’s daughter. Her taste in clothes was great, and her sword’s sheath was of impeccable craftsmanship. Even an austere like you could tell. 

You wondered if someone had taught her all these things. She sure looked like she was well-loved as a child. So were you, but there was always a chronic emptiness in your heart. No parents to dote on you after work, only a sick and tired grandmother who tried to give you everything she could before taking her last breath. 

You even thought you could have a chance at having a family when you met your first love, but you soon gave up that hope after nearly being sold off as a wife to an old rich geezer. It had taken you ages to run away from him, to run away from a forceful marriage, only to land back in the same predicament but with a different person. 

“I do not understand him,” you speak out in the silence, echoes of your voice getting swallowed up by the snow. Not even your murmurs could leave the estate. “Nobody does. That is just how he is.” Nobara doesn’t look at you as she replies. “No, he could just take the marble from me–if I even have it. Why does he need to marry me for it?” 

“He believes you have it, but you are just unaware. He plans on coaxing it out of you sooner or later. And as long as the townsfolk know you are his wife, you cannot leave Seion.” 

So you were trapped. If not under Sukuna Ryomen’s thumb, then under the people’s watchful eyes. 

Unlike divine beings and spirits, human beings usually follow a daily routine. Sukuna Ryomen was surprised to learn that they meticulously followed everything–even down to how many bundles of firewood they would collect for the day. So, to make his life more comfortable, the former demon king also devised a routine. 

His day usually starts with a quick exercise regime to keep himself strong. Should the day come that the Deities have finally returned to their senses and want him back, he can easily fight them in his human form. However, the four demon companions who followed him to the mortal realm out of their loyalty to him would beg to differ. Uraume, Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi were well aware that even the most swole of humans would be like a small piece of twig for the weakest of deities. Sukuna Ryomen just enjoyed imagining the ones who punished him in pain, including that no-good Divine Judge, Higuruma Hiromi. 

He would then eat a hearty meal and set off for business meetings. After his first hundred years on Earth, Sukuna learned that the only way to earn respect and power was to be rich. So he did exactly that: he spent decades earning money and bought out most of the shipment ports around his town. The fact that people forgot who he was every ten years immensely helped him. Divine punishment magic and all. 

And at last, he’d end his day by meditating beside his old statue. Getting to the abandoned shrine was a bothersome journey, but the peace he felt there was unlike any other. It was the closest he felt to his former life.

His new wife, however, was ruining everything. He couldn’t exercise with his normal concentration because he needed to always have his eyes on her. He did trust Nobara, but he needed self-assurance. He could easily take her with him for errands for the day, but he didn’t want the old bastards he traded with to land their leery gazes at her. She was still very jumpy, and something about another man, even a few feet in her presence, made him want to burn his hair. Other than his trusted bodyguards and servant, of course. 

“She just won’t sit still, and even refuses to eat. I’ve tried everything. You deal with her,” Nobara huffs as she smacks fresh new clothes on Sukuna’s unclothed chest, which was redundant because they had soaked in some of his sweat. He didn’t bother dressing up after his workout and charged to his quarters, noticing his wife had taken solace in the furthest corner from the door. 

“I am not going to eat you,” Sukuna sighed as he walked over to her, making her only pull her legs closer to her chest as she scrambled to throw what was closest to her–a lacquer box pillow. Sukuna, of course, easily dodged her attempt to attack him. He veiled his amusement at her discontentment. 

“Who’s to say you won’t? After all, you said you were a demon,” she tried her best to sound assertive, but her shivering body gave way to her veracity. Brave woman. She quickly dragged herself across the floor of the room, hoping to make it past Sukuna to get out, but he grabbed onto her ankles and pulled her to him. No grunt or sound of effort escaped his lips. She could only groan as he grabbed both her wrists and sat her up.

“I am here to give you clothes, woman. Calm down!” he reasoned as he sat on his haunches, giant hands still holding her wrists. His wife wriggled, trying to throw off his balance, but his exercise regime had made him sturdier than a raging bull. It wasn’t a shock to him that he was much bigger than her, but the sight of his arms being much larger and stronger than hers stirred something dire in him. Snow falling like dust before the avalanche. 

“I don’t need clothes. I am already wearing them. I’ll change when these get dirty. You rich folk sure do love draining every single resource you have–warm water for baths–”

“Which you clearly enjoyed. I could hear you groaning and moaning like old wood yesterday.” Maybe it had been a while since he had a woman in close quarters, but he barely held himself together when he heard her across the estate.

“That was because your little servant scrubbed me so hard that I bruised everywhere!” she yelled as she tried to wriggle some more, but his grip was taut. He pushed her down on the ground, her back hitting the wood with a thump.

“Your stubbornness will simply not do. I always considered myself a patient man, but now I am unsure. I will put you to work and exhaust you so much that you won’t have the strength to even think about escaping.” And with that, he dropped her clothes on the ground and lightly shoved her to the side. Only to remind her of his strength. 

And not because the sight of her being dragged around made him feel light-headed and lecherous.

After calling for Nobara to dress his wife up for the day, he called on Uraume to allot his new bride her wifely duties for the day. “She’s been on the street for most of her life so I doubt she knows how to cook. I also do not want her near fire, blades, arrows, or anything that can be a weapon. Have her organize my accounts by name. Nothing too extensive, but enough to make her want to lie down as soon as she’s done.” Uraume quickly nods before packing his things and handing them to him. 

He never enjoyed working anyway. It was a good thing he had her to help out now. 

“How long will you be meditating for, master?” Uraume asked as he walked Sukuna to the estate’s main entrance. Sukuna left with a swift response, “I expect to be back before sundown.”

The scenery around his statue was always beautiful. Stalky bamboo trees made everything look like a maze in this part of the valley. A stream nearby always had small foxes drinking from it, and the sun shone perfectly for their red fur to glitter.

Three hundred years ago, this place was bustling with people, buying talismans and offering fruits at the foot of the statue. Now, it is just a husk of what it used to be–weathering and moldy wood turning to dust as soon as one touches it. His statue had all smoothened out, his extra pair of eyes were invisible and his horrifyingly glorious mouth on his abdomen was gone too. There was not much difference between his human form and the statue.

Time stood still when Sukuna Ryomen was at his abandoned temple. He touched the smooth, worn gravel of his face and sighed. After a little more time, this statue would return to being taken care of. Offerings and people would return. So would his former glory. But where would his humanity go? Would he take it with him? Or would his sudden return to his former form make him forgo everything he had learned as a human being? 

Most importantly, how would his return affect his wife?

“I see you finally found her,” A familiar voice echoes in the forest. Sukuna already knows who he is before turning around. The Tengu spirit was here. 

“Why do you suddenly show yourself when I found my path of return, Geto Suguru?” Sukuna still didn’t turn. The spirit laughed, velvety rich voice raising hairs on the back of Sukuna Ryomen’s neck. He hated how humans were so expressive; it was no wonder they never had the upper hand with Deities and spirits.

Cool air blows all around Sukuna as the sound of wings flapping gets closer to him. If he turned around, he’d be face to face with someone he could’ve easily snapped in half if he were a demon again. “Because you haven’t.” Sukuna shivered as the tengu spirit whispered in his ear. 

“What are you talking about? I saw her eyes; she has the marble!” 

A dark claw digs into Sukuna's shoulder as he is ripped from his spot, and is turned around to face Suguru. He looked the same as he did hundreds of years ago–long black hair falling around his shoulders, dark pools of obsidian that never had a hint of good or evil behind them, and his signature smirk. Sukuna Ryomen hated tengus–they played around too much. Ambivalent creatures. They never lied, but they weren’t the friendliest company either. Only came around when they were bored. 

“Are you still angry that I told you about the souls passing by your domain?” 

“You said they were rejuvenating!” Sukuna exclaimed but caught himself when Suguru dug his nails into his shoulder. “Careful with your tone. Remember, you are a mere human now, and I could easily end your pathetic little life right this moment.” 

“Do it. I’ll only come back to life within a few mere minutes. I am cursed, remember?”

“Oh, I know, which is why I’ll keep killing you, making each death more painful than the last. It’ll keep you stalled long enough for your little bride to run off or die with time. Human lives are just so frail, you see.” Suguru stretched a wide, ugly smile, baring his pointed teeth at Sukuna. A loud message. 

Sukuna was sure the spirit could hear his pathetic human heart beating rapidly along with the sound of his blood rushing to his face. The veins in his neck bulged out as he tried to restrain his anger. The mere thought of someone taking his marble away from him angered him. 

“Tell me what you are here for and leave me immediately.” The sooner Suguru left, the sooner Sukuna could go and protect his wife. 

“You are a foolish demon.” 

“If you’ve come all the way to the mortal realm to tell me that, then I believe you are the foolish one,” Sukuna’s attitude angered Suguru as he shoved him, his taloned foot slammed on Sukuna’s chest as he cemented him to the ground. Sukuna groaned as he tried to grasp onto the spirit’s foot, but his hands went through them like he was trying to catch onto the air. 

Right, humans couldn’t touch spirits, but they could do whatever they wanted to them. No wonder folktales and legends were such a big part of human culture.

“You have become even more bold. I was only here to say that you asked the wrong question at the trial.”

“What are you waiting for then? Tell me,” Sukuna could barely wheeze out the words with the pressure on his chest. Taking pity at the pathetic man’s state, the tengu spirit lifts his leg off and clutches Sukuna’s collar, sitting him up against his will—a man at the mercy of myth. 

“Your pearl–she doesn’t have it. Don’t bother torturing it out of her.” Sukuna wasn’t surprised that the Suguru assumed he would’ve done that. But something about his newfound humanity irked him enough not to perform needless acts of violence. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The pearl is from the Divine Realm. A human cannot fathom its existence. It only exists as dust in her blood as in yours,”

The former demon’s pathetic human heart beat rapidly like thunder trapped in a cage. He let out an aching sigh as cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “You want me to kill her to get the pearl?” 

“No, all you need to do is mix your blood with hers, and you will have the complete marble.” 

“I cannot make her go through bloodletting–she’s too weak.” 

Suguru laughs loudly and the ground beneath Sukuna’s body trembles. Fresh snow is shaken off the bamboos.

“There are less…practical ways of mixing blood. One of them will surely give you your complete marble.” Still confused, Sukuna could only squint at Suguru’s all-black eyes. 

“A child, you daft demon. You must have a child with her to return to your original form.” 

—

taglist: @sukubusss @lady-of-blossoms @gradmacoco @cheriiepies @brunnetteiwik @poopooindamouf @miakxn @emochosoluvr @sunasgf1

[hyperions-light]

@uchidachi requested I do this one, and now that the activity around it has calmed down a bit, I thought it’d be fun!

I’ve briefly considered this topic before, but thinking about it for longer I’m pretty sure that if Lucanis or Neve brought this up (lbr here, it’d be Lucanis) it would start a fight lol

Marriage sounds like it involves a whole bunch of things Leth doesn’t like such as

-rules

-legal proceedings

-interacting with authority figures

-politics

However, they do love parties and wearing fancy clothes, so it has that going for it.

Putting the rest under the cut, bc long lol

But I think ultimately the idea would kind of freak them out, because then like… what about Teia and Viago? They have a weird situationship going on that they don’t want to give up or have to think too hard about, and marriage might complicate it. Being freaked out would immediately cause them to start an argument, and then they’d probably run away and hide for some amount of time. (Leth’s instincts always say: fight until you can run, run until you can hide)

If they were eventually convinced (hard but not impossible) it would have to be a wedding where all three of them get married, because they'd think it was unfair, otherwise.

And then probably Lucanis would regret his decision because it would turn into the biggest, most elaborate party in the history of Treviso. Leth has never even met half of the people who show up. Teia is over the moon because any wild, extravagant thing she suggests Leth will enthusiastically cosign. Everyone is invited. EVERYONE. It should be a huge security risk because so many Talons (and the Black Divine and the Archon) are in the same place at once but everyone is so heavily armed it would be suicide to attack them. They probably ask Solas if he and Lavellan want to stop holding the sky together briefly so they can come too. Yes, the necromancers can bring the Necropolis skeletons. Of course Vorgoth is invited! Tell uncle Eldrin to bring the griffons!

Probably the only thing that Leth would actually debate with Teia about is clothes. They don't want to wear a dress (they aren't as good at stabbing people in them. What if they have to stab someone?), they want NEVE to wear a dress. There is a LOT of debating back and forth about color schemes and fabrics and tailoring. I think it's like Divine Conclave level serious; Teia and Leth are locked in a room for a week and everyone else goes in and out periodically looking utterly exhausted. They figure it out eventually, though. They find the right shades of purple and turquoise so that everything looks cohesive.

I think the biggest Issue with the wedding is probably politics. There's the Crow house alliance to worry about, which Viago would get huffy over, and there's Caterina. Viago is very convinced that if Leth is around Caterina for any substantive period of time, they are going to annoy her into killing them, so he's spent a lot of time impressing on them that they should stay tf away from her. But she's going to be their grandmother-in-law now! There's probably a lot of traditions to fulfill, like formal meetings and interviews and evaluations and dinners which will stress Lucanis out! Leth endures it with uncomfortable bemusement. They only irritate Caterina a moderate amount-- she definitely whacks them with that cane at least once. It's fine, though! Leth likes grumpy people and is good at dodging.

I think the celebration is like... Carnival or Mardi Gras, essentially. It lasts a week, no one leaves when they're supposed to, everyone is horribly inebriated. They need healers because the Lords of Fortune tried to play their drinking game in the canals and got sick immediately. People show up late; they go and come back and somehow the party is still happening. Lucanis, Neve and Viago definitely tap out at some point-- meanwhile, Teia, Illario, Isabela, and Leth are having an amazing time! It's sort of also a party to celebrate the apocalypse being averted?

I think Taash would make it through the whole time, Davrin would last a while but he has to do Griffon Wrangling eventually. Emmrich is out after like day two. Manfred would stay the whole time. Bel would have fun but I think she would get burned out on it eventually. I think all the faction leaders show at some point, but they also either 1) have stuff to do 2) do NOT want to spend a week in the middle of this chaos, so I think probably by the end it's just Teia and Isabela left.

Leth brings some of Harding's fade plants to decorate the venue and hand-delivers an invitation to Harding's mom. They order a barrel of that nasty shit they serve in the Hanged Man, and pour one out for Varric-- maybe Bianca sneaks in there at some point. There's probably a dramatic reading of Varric's least favorite book, just so Leth can annoy him in the afterlife.

I think it ends up sort of cathartic for everyone? Like, the wedding is why they come, but everyone needs to unwind from all the terrible shit that happened.

I think the actually romantic part is probably after, during the honeymoon. They just go somewhere quiet and isolated where Leth can make sure their two workaholic partners do absolutely nothing productive for two uninterrupted weeks. Treviso and Docktown will be okay without them, for a minute-- Viago and Elek promised.

Also after that Leth is bringing Lucanis and Neve to meet their clan, because they don't live with them anymore, but that doesn't mean they aren't important. Maybe the quiet, sincere version of the ceremony happens there, with nobody else around? And Leth is bullying them into matching tattoos, which they will do themself.

Hey, hope you all had a good weekend! Unfortunately, it’s Monday =/ Fortunately, it’s time for Rook Intro Hour! 🍀🌺🌼🌸

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Question(s): Does your Rook want to get married to their LI(s)? Do they care about where? Is there a specific tradition/traditions they want to follow, when they do? Who would they invite? What would they wear?

Have fun & thanks for sharing!

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

(Sorry for the delay. This part is going to be a bit crazy)

Merlin has never been able to stay mad at Arthur for too long, so he soon finds himself back in Arthur's chambers and stays there the rest of the day, lying in bed, while Arthur pampers him.

Being taken care of is a pretty new feeling for Merlin. And, though sometimes it still feels weird, he doesn't get that feeling of wrongness anymore when Arthur brings grapes to his mouth and massages him to help him relax. If anything, he deserves this after the uncomfortable moment Arthur put him through.

As night falls and Arthur cuddles with him, Merlin can't help but wonder: What did he do to be this fortunate in this life? To get this Arthur to love him so throughfully and cherish him this much? Some fear invades him too: Is this a trick of The Sidhe? To get him everything he ever wanted to later take it all away from him. But then Arthur tells him "I love you" again and dissipates his fears with a kiss.

Merlin spent all his previous life suffering and worrying constantly. In this life, he'll let himself be happy.

Arthur: (his hand trails down Merlin's body as he kisses him)

Merlin: (pulls away from the kiss, breathless) Wait... We shouldn't...

Arthur: Why? (kiss) You are my lover. (kiss) I already made you mine yesterday. (kiss)

That is other thing. While Merlin is still processing the new nature of their relationship, Arthur assimilates it and his active role in it with ease. It disorients and overwhelms him, the intensity of how Arthur shows his love. Merlin doesn't recall a single time Arthur has been this possessive with Gwen, let alone Arthur making jealous scenes like the one he did with Gwaine moments before. It makes him nervous... but also hot for some reason.

Merlin: (stops the kiss, though he still blushes, a mix of embarrasment and arousal at Arthur's words) My offended lover act. I'm supposed to be avoiding you for two weeks, remember? If we do it everyone will know and think I forgave you too easily.

Arthur: We'll be discret.

Merlin: My limp won't be so discret.

Arthur: I'll be gentle.

Merlin: (looks doubtful)

Arthur: Please. (hand caresses his waist, hip and then his thight) You can't tell me you don't want it. (lips very close to Merlin's)

Merlin: (gives in, beacuse gods he wants this so bad) Alright, but just once. And be gentle.

Time skip. Next day in the morning.

Merlin: (Wakes up and whimpers in pain) You fucking liar! 😡 (hits Arthur with a pillow)

Arthur: (chuckles softly) Again, you weren't exactly complaining.

Merlin: (doesn't want to admit he was in fact enjoying it too much to stop him) Well, now I am, you brute clotpole! How am I supposed to go for your breakfast now?

Arthur: That can be arranged. (calls out) Guards!

Guards: (enter, weapons up) My lord!

Merlin: (startled, barely has time to react, just covers himself with the covers)

Guards: ...

Guard 1: (looks away in respect) Uhm... Did you call us, sire?

Arthur: (very chill) Tell the cook to send someone else to bring my breakfast, please.

Guard 2: (also looking away) Right away, my lord.

Guards: (leave)

Merlin: (uncovers himself, almost shouting) Why did you do that?! 😡

Arthur: (innocently) You said you couldn't bring breakfast.

Merlin: You know what I mean, you prat! We were supposed to be discret! Now everyone will know- (cuts himself, opening his eyes wide in realisation) And that's what you wanted. You did it on purpose! (gets off the bed furious despite the pain)

Arthur: (gets off the bed too) Merlin-

Merlin: (dressing himself with hard movements, furious) NO! You think this is funny? Letting them see me in your bed as if I was some harlot? Do you know how humiliating that is?

Arthur: I didn't think-

Merlin: Of course you didn't think! But you knew how important this plan was to me and you still didn't care. You trampled on my wishes as if they were worthless. As if I didn't matter (hurt emerges into his fury) How could you do that to me? (finishes to dress himself)

Arthur: (realising how much he fucked up, very sorry) You are right. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. (about to put a hand on his shoulder)

Merlin: Don't! (makes a move to go to the door)

Arthur: (puts himself infront of him) I'm really sorry!

Merlin: I don't want to hear it! (darts around him, but ends up tripping with a blanket and ends with his face on the floor) Stupid blanket! (his eyes glow and the blanket ends in little pieces)

Arthur: (swallows, thinking) Even his magic is angry, he must be really upset (aproaches carefully, kneeling before Merlin) It was never my intention to step over you and I hate myself for making you feel that way.

Merlin: (very hurt) Then why did you do it?!

Arthur: (sighs) I wasn't honest with you.. regarding your plan.

Merlin: ... What?

Arthur: I was never comfortable with it. It hurts to pretend that we are separated when that's not true. And you involved me in this plan before even consulting it with me first and then make me go along with it. You never once asked my opinion on the matter either. It made me feel like you care more about some rumors than me, as if our relationship was something to be embarrased of. And it is not! If anything, I'm proud to show you off, to let everyone know that I love you and you are mine.

Merlin: (calms down a bit, feeling bad, but still angry) You are right, that was selfish of me and I apologise if I made you upset, but what you did was not better. Is one thing to "show me off" and other to expose me naked in your bed after being intimate! And how dare you say I'm embarrased of us? Me trying to recover some of my dignity has nothing to do with that! If you were so against my plan you should have said something instead of making me look like an easy lay!

Arthur: (caressess Merlin's face) I know. I was childish and impulsive. I'm sorry. I'll never discard your wishes ever again. Relationship is a two-way street. If we are not okay with something we talk it out from now on. Alright? Will you forgive me? (offers Merlin a hand to help him stand up)

Merlin: (just stares at him, still frowning, resentful)

Arthur: I'll tell everyone I gave you a very big apology gift and that's why you forgave me.

Merlin: So now I'm not a cheap whore, but a expensive one.

Arthur: (desperate) Then tell me what to do to make you forgive me! Anything and I'll do it!

Merlin: (keeps staring at him, frowning)

Arthur: (begs) Please! I'm so so sorry. Tell me how to make it right. (holds Merlin's hands, pleading) Please.

Merlin: (sighs, giving in cause Arthur looks like he might cry if he is not forgiven and Merlin really doesn't like making Arthur this upset) My lily is lonely. I want another.

Arthur: (relieved) Sure!

Merlin: And I want it to be white.

Arthur: I'll get it for you right away. (hugs Merlin and gives him a kiss) Are we okay now?

Merlin: (thinking) I'm still angry and hurt that you put me in such a vulnerable position, but what's done is done. And I can see you are really sorry, why waste time fighting? (smiles, reassuring) Yes, we are okay.

Time skip. In Gaius' tower.

Merlin: (enters, limping)

Gaius: (worried) My boy! (grabs a little bottle and gives it to Merlin) Take this for the pain. Shouldn't you be resting?

Merlin blushes, very embarrased, because of course Gaius knows. Everyone in the castle knows. If the limp and guards catching him on Arthur's bed wasn't enough of a clue, all the visible bites Arthur left on his neck definitely are. Not even his neckerchief is able to hide all of them.

Merlin: Thank you. (drinks Gaius's potion for the pain) I can still help you around here as long as I don't have to move much. (grabs some herbs and jars with liquids and puts them on a table) It's the least I can do after losing your ingredients yesterday. (sits on a chair, wincing a bit)

Merlin frowns at the memory of Arthur and Gwaine's display from the day before (in which he lost his cest with all the ingredients he had collected). It's difficult to concieve a world where Arthur and Gwaine don't get along, let alone one when they hate each other to guts.

Merlin: (thinking, reassurring himself) They just have to stop acting like cave men and get to know each other. I'm sure they'll become friends again soon enough.

Gaius: You don't have to worry about the missing ingredients. Someone else brought them.

Merlin: (surprised) Really? Who?

Gwaine: (comes out from Merlin's old room) Me.

Merlin: (avoids his gaze, still angry at him for yesterday and starts to grind some herbs)

Gaius: Oh, Gwaine. What a surprise seeing you here. I thought you'll be at a tavern by now.

Gwaine: (to Gaius, but not getting his eyes off Merlin) Hungover.

Gaius: (shakes his head) I'll prepare you something for that. (about to that)

Servant: (enters) The King requests the presence of the physician inmediatly. Something about needing his concoction.

Gaius: (sighs) Of course. (turns to Merlin) Prepare Gwaine's medicine for the hungover, I'll tend the king. (leaves)

Merlin: (sighs, thinking) Perfect.

Gwaine: (walks around the table, grinning) So... Merlin, isn't it?

Merlin: (ignores him, smashing the herbs, still not looking at him)

Gwaine: I can help you with that if you want (about to grab a bowl)

Merlin: (puts the bowl away and keeps smashing in silence)

Gwaine: (notices Merlin's love bites on his neck, chuckles and decides to joke) The prince was eager to mark territory, it seems.

Merlin: I'll finish this in my room. (stands up, grabing his things)

Gwaine: No, wait! (stops him) Forgive me. It was a bad joke.

Merlin: (leaves the things on the table and crosses his arms) Is that the only thing you are sorry for?

Gwaine: I may have also crossed the line with your prince yesterday.

Merlin: And?

Gwaine: And I'm sorry.

Merlin: As you should. (sits again and continues to prepare Gwaine's medicine)

Gwaine: (sits besides him) I know we had a rocky start. Two rocky starts if we count the Lady Merelyn one. But I would really like to be your friend.

Merlin: (confused) Why? (thinking) We bonded before due to our similar pasts. He doesn't know about my father yet. Why does he...?

Gwaine: (grinning, amuzed) Are you kidding? You are the most interesting person I ever met! There's always people telling so many stories about you they even contradict each other. It's madness! But the kind of madness I like. And the little time I spent with you was explendid.

Merlin: You mean the bandit attack and your almost confrotation with Arthur?

Gwaine: What can I say? You are a magnet for trouble... and I love trouble. 😏

Merlin: (rolls his eyes, but can't help but smile)

Gwaine: So? (extends his hand) Friends?

Merlin: (thinking) I do miss his friendship... (says) Alright, but only with two conditions.

Gwaine: Isn't friendship supposed to be unconditional?

Merlin: (warns) Gwaine.

Gwaine: Fine, Fine. Tell me. What are the conditions?

Merlin: One, you'll stop talking bad about Arthur in my presence or his presence.

Gwaine: Noted. (thinking) I can still talk bad about him with Percival.

Merlin: Two, you'll never EVER bother Arthur again in any way. This means no insults, no fights and no fake flirting with me just to get on his nerves.

Gwaine: (nods) Understood. No insults, no fights-wait, did you say fake flirting? 😧

Merlin: (extends his hand) Do you accept the conditions?

Gwaine: (shakes Merlin's hand) I accept.

Meanwhile. Arthur and Lancelot in the woods.

Lancelot: I found some, Sire! (points some white lilies)

Arthur: (aproaches) Just now?

Lancelot: Yes. What a relief! After you told me how long your search for the purple lily was, I thought it would take longer.

Arthur: It did take longer.

Lancelot: (confused) Didn't you say it took you days for you to find the purple lily, Sire?

Arthur: The purple lily yes. But I came across those white lilies in the first two hours of my search.

Lancelot: ...

Arthur: And it took YOU three hours to find them. Honestly, Lancelot, I had more faith in your hability.

Lancelot: You already knew where they were.

Arthur: I did.

Lancelot: (catiously) Why did you ask for my help then, Sire?

Arthur: I wanted to speak with you privately.

Lancelot: About what, Sire?

Arthur: Well, It had come to my attention that you holded up some facts in your narration of the events regarding the bandit attack. Specifically some actions one of your new roommates did.

Lancelot: (thinking, nervous) Gwaine... the poor man. (says) Percival or Gwaine?

Arthur: You know who. Merlin told me Gwaine flirted with him and talked ill of me.

Lancelot: (sweating) Oh... that. 😅 (thinking) He's SO dead.

Arthur: He did not go into details though.

Lancelot: (thinking, in relief) Thank the gods!

Arthur: And that's why I'm asking you for said details.

Lancelot: (thinking) I talked too soon... (says) Pardon me, Sire?

Arthur: (with and icy calmness) What exactly did Gwaine tell Merlin?

Lancelot: I can't really remember, Sire.

Arthur: That's a lie. (pulls out a knife calmly) You have a great memory and you are more observant than anyone. That's how you could give my father a very detailed inform and how you discovered Merlin's magic so fast. So, I'll ask again. (plays with the knife in his hand) What did he say?

Lancelot: (trembling) S-sire 😰

Arthur: Why are you looking at me like that? This for the flowers. (passes Lancelot and starts cutting some leaves so the lilies are more visible) I don't want to ask again.

Lancelot: (swallows hard) I truly don't remember, Sire. I was a bit distracted. Gwen was there and... Well, you know, how love is.

Arthur: (gives an understanding smile) I do. You must love her a lot. I can't blame you.

Lancelot: (sighs in relief)

Arthur: (smiling sweetly) Now tell me the truth or I'll make sure you can't never marry her.

Lancelot: (thinking) Sorry, Merlin. I did try to save him. (says) Well... this is what I remember.

Time skip. Gawine and Percival walking around the Lower Town.

Gwaine: I spit it and I told him "Did you make it taste this bad on purpose?" and he said "No, that's how all Gaius' medicines taste". So I retorded "I rather have hangover that drink that shit again".

Percival: (laughs) You didn't even had a hangover. You were waiting for him.

Gwaine: (shrugs) I owned the guy an apology.

Percival: And since when do you apologise for anything?

Gwaine: (brings a hand to his chest dramatically) It offends me that you think of me that way. I'm a man that recognises his mistakes and knows how to apologize. I feel no shame in it.

Percival: I agree that you feel no shame for anything. (sighs) You finally have some genuine romantic feelings for someone. And of all people you could have chosen, it had to be the prince's lover.

Gwaine: (chuckles) I don't have "romantic feelings" for Merlin. He's fun to be with, is all.

Percival: Good. Because he is out of discussion. The prince will have you killed if you dare to try something.

Gwaine: Uuuh! Forbidden love 😏.

Percival: (warns) Gwaine.

Gwaine: I'm kidding! I'm not suicidal, I don't want to end up dead in an ally.

Percival: (stops to buy some vegetables)

Gwaine: Oh, I'll be over there (points somewhere). I need to... eh... take care of something.

Percival: Do not flirt with married women. 😒

Gwaine: That happened once! She wasn't wearing her ring and was not exactly rejecting me. How was I supposed to know she was married?

Percival: Nor some other prince's lover.

Gwaine: Again, once. (pats his back goodbye) I'll see you by the chickens. (leaves)

In some jewellery stand.

Seller: How can I help you?

Gwaine: Yeah... uhm... (pulls out a ring) I would like to sell a ring.

Meanwhile, in Merlin's chambers.

Merlin: (just lying in bed resting, not because he wanted to, but everyone insisted him to)

Lancelot: (enters suddendly) Merlin! Sorry for disturbing you, I know you are... erh... indisposed.

Merlin: Honestly Lancelot, it would surprise me if someone DIDN'T know I'm "indisposed".

Lancelot: But this is an emergency. Do you know where Gwaine is?

Merlin: He went with Percival to the Lower Town to buy some things, why?

Lancelot: Great. We have to go there. Now! (grabs Merlin wrist and drags him outside)

Merlin: Wha... wait, Lancelot! What's the emergency? What are we doing?

Lancelot: Saving a life!

Back with Gwaine in the jewellery stand.

Gwaine: Come on, man! I got it for more.

Seller: That's what I offer. Take it or leave it.

Gwaine: (accepts the money reluctantly) You Camelotians are such thieves.

Arthur: Says the one who wanted to steal my lover.

Gwaine: (startles and turns) Oh, the princess has arrived! (remembers his promise to Merlin and corrects himself) I mean, what brings his royal highness here?

Arthur: Why on earth are you in possession of a ring?

Gwaine: Men are allowed to have rings.

Arthur: It looks pretty feminine for you.

Gwaine: I have very... epecific taste.

Arthur: Sure, it had nothing to do with Lady Merelyn asking you for a ring if you wanted to be with her.

Gwaine: Look, I didn't know Lady Merelyn and Merlin were the same person at the time. As far as I knew, you had rejected her for him after what happened with the bandits and the only thing that could restore some of her honor was marrying someone.

Arthur: And you were so willing to do that sacrifice, weren't you? So eager to save a damisel in distress from a, how did you say?, a corrupt and debauchee prince.

Gwaine: How did you... It was Lancelot wasn't it! 😠 That telltale!

Arthur: No, he's good at keeping secrets. I'm just good at getting them out. I don't care what people say about me, let alone a nobody like you. What infuriates me is that you, did not only flirted with MY lover, but dare to tell him that I was playing with him, that I did not love him or took him seriously.

Gwaine: Again, as far as I knew, you had this lady as a misstress instead of as a wife, knowing that kind of relationship damages a woman's reputation. Anyone would think you were playing with her. If I knew she was actually a he I would have understood why you couldn't marry.

Arthur: And if it had been so, what? Are you always this honorable, defending the virtue of women unknown to you? No, you only did it because you wanted something with her. It wasn't out of the goodness of your heart. If you had any honorability or goodness in your heart at all, you wouldn't have filled Merlin with insecurities just to get your way!

Gwaine: (offended) I didn't fill Merlin with-

Arthur: (raising his voice) Tell me how telling someone their love does not really love them back, that they are just being played and will never have a serious comittement is not filling them with insecurities!

Gwaine: (actually feels bad) I... didn't think of it that way.

Arthur: Of course you didn't.

Gwaine: (impatient and annoyed) Look, I'm sorry, alright? I spoke out of turn, now I know you love Merlin genuinely and I won't question it or your relationship with him ever again. So go back to your big castle and do whatever is that you royals do. (makes a move to leave)

Arthur: (steps infront of him, not letting him pass) I believe we have something pending. (throws a glove to the ground) Pick it up.

Gwaine: ... What?

Arthur: You said you wanted to fight me, to see how skilled I was, so... (points the glove) pick it up.

Gwaine: (laughs) I won't pick up your fucking glove.

Arthur: By the knight code, you have to pick it up. So… Pick. It. Up.

Gwaine: No.

Arthur: Why not then?

Arthur: (smirks) Why? Scared?

Gwaine: Believe me, I have no shortage of desire.

Gwaine: One, because I promise Merlin I wouldn't fight you. And do want to keep being his friend, you see.

Arthur: (sarcastic smile) How sweet.

Gwaine: Two, I have no obligation. I'm no knight.

Arthur: Oh... you are right. There's no need of this. (punches Gwaine in the face)

Gwaine: (falls to the ground and brings a hand to his face in pain) You motherf- 😡

Arthur: I heard bar fights were more your style! (gestures him to stand up with his hands) Come on!

Gwaine: (stands up, angry) You asked for this.

Meanwhile, Percival by the chickens.

Percival: (being waiting for about half an hour, says to himself) Where is him? (hears people making commotion) What's happening there?

Little kid: (from afar) Mom, mom! They are fighting!

Mom: Stay away sweetie!

Percival: A fight? (an horrible thought comes to his mind and runs there, praying) Please let it not be him, please let it not be him. (gets there and spots Gwaine) It's him... 🤦‍♂️. (praying again) Please let the other not be a nobel, please let the other not be a noble. (recognises Arthur) That's the prince! 😨

Arthur and Gwaine: (beating the shit out of each other furiously, both bleeding from their recent injuries)

Percival: (very worried, runs to intervene)

Knight y: (who is patrolling there, stops him) What do you think you are doing?

Percival: I'm the one who should be asking! 😠 Isn't your work to prevent unrest from happening?

Knight y: Normally I would put an end to it, but this is the prince. We can't intervene. Is against the law.

Percival: What kind of law is that?! You are supposed to be protecting your prince!

Knight y: It was his wish to fight. I can't go against his wishes.

Percival: Well, I don't care. My friend is there. (makes a move to go to Gwaine's aid)

Knight y: (stops him again) I'm sorry, but we can't let you intervene.

Percival: We? (looks around and spots more patrolling knights) You have to be kidding me... What if my friend fatally injures your prince? Haven't you thought about that?

Knight y: We kill him before he does.

Percival: ... What? 😰

Knight y: It's the law.

Percival: And... if your prince fatally injures my friend? Will you stop him too?

Knight y: (shakes his head) He's the prince.

Percival: (thinking) Now I understand why Gwaine hates nobelty so much. (tries to pass the knights anyway)

Knights: (point Percival with their swords)

Knight y: Trust me it will be worst if you intervene. You won't only get your friend killed but yourself too.

Percival: (begs) Please, you can't let this happen! There must be a way to stop them!

Knight y: (thoughtful) Well, I think there is a way...

Knight x: (scolds) Alynor!

Percival: (desparate) How?

Knight y: The prince always listens to his manservant.

Percival: Merlin! Of course. Where is him?

Knight x: In the castle, resting. I heard he is... "indisposed".

Knights: (laugh)

Percival: (leaves running)

Knight x: (shouting) It's quite far! You won't get him in time! (sighs, to Knight y) 15 silver coins that he won't make it.

Knight y: Make it 20.

Some other part of the Lower Town.

Merlin: (still being dragged by Lancelot, sore and exhausted) Lancelot, please. We've been walking for hours. I'm tired.

Lancelot: (notices Merlin in pain and lets go of him, feeling bad) I'm sorry. I had a feeling that... (thinking) That Arthur would commit murder. (says) Forget it, I'm just being paranoid. Forgive me. I'll carry you back to the castle if you like.

Merlin: (chuckles softly) I would say no, but I really can't take one more step.

Percival: (crosses pat with them) Merlin! Thank the Gods! You have to come with me! (grabs Merlin's wrist)

Lancelot: (stops Percival) Wait, wait, wait! Where are you taking him?

Percival: The prince and Gwaine are fighting!

Merlin: WHAT?! 😨

Lancelot: (thinking) I hate being right... 😔

Percival: (starts dragging Merlin)

Merlin: (trips) Ow! (frees himself from Percival's hold, angry) Stop dragging me like some rag doll! 😡 I can walk on my own! (walks on his own, but he's too in pain to walk fast enough and he's limping) Those stupid idiots-Ow!

Percival: (Impatient) There's no time! (Picks Merlin up in his arms quickly and runs)

Merlin: AAAAAAH! 😱

Lancelot: (runs after them)

Meanwhile, with Arthur and Gwaine.

Arthur: (kicks Gwaine hard)

Gwaine: (falls on his back in the ground) Argh!

Arthur: (approaches to help him stand up, cause it's still dishonorable to fight a man when he is not in a position to defend himself)

Gwaine: (thinking Arthur was approaching to beat him on the ground, kicks in the air to protect himself, but ends up kicking Arthur in the crotch by accident)

Arthur: (bends over in pain, his voice a scale higher) Ow! You son of a bitch!

Gwaine: (laughs his ass off, while he stands up) This was not my intention, but oh gods! (keeps laughing) I hope you are not planning to have offspring soon.

Arthur: (still bending over, catching his breath) Shut up!

Gwaine: (joking) On the bright side, maybe now I do have a chance with Merlin.

Arthur: (straights up again, a murderous look on his face)

Gwaine: (thinking) Me and my big mouth...

Arthur: (lunges at Gwaine in full rage)

Meanwhile, Percival finally arrives with Merlin in arms and Lancelot by his side.

Percival: (puts Merlin on the ground gently)

Knight y: (To Knight x) Ha! He's here. Pay me.

Knight x: (reluctantly pays him)

Merlin: (serious) Where is him?

Knights: (point in the direction of the fight)

Merlin: (walks as fast as he can there)

Knights: (step away to let him pass)

Percival: Sure, you can't let a broad man stop the fight, but the defenseless scrawny manservant that can barely stand on his feet is more than capable.

Lancelot: (to the knights) We are his friends. Let us pass.

Knights: (look doubtfully)

Lancelot: He may need reinforces. The prince won't forgive you if he gets injured.

Knights: (step aside)

Lancelot: (to Percival) Hurry!

Lancelot and Percival: (run)

Back to the fight.

Arthur: (on top of Gwaine, choking him on the ground with his hands)

Gwaine: (trying to push him away, in barely a whisper) I yield! I yield! You proved your point. Pleas... (can't pronounce a word anymore, trashes harder, he can't breath)

Arthur: (thinking, eyes cold) 278.

Gwaine: (his movements weaken, face almost purple)

Merlin: (screams) Stop! You are going to kill him!

Arthur: (lifts his head and gets off Gwaine, like getting out of a trance) Merlin?

Gwaine: (Takes a deep breath and coughs, his hands on his neck)

Percival: Gwaine! (kneels to check him, worried)

Merlin: (furious) What is the meaning of this?!

Arthur and Gwaine: (pointing at the other, Arthur in a loud voice and Gwaine in a hoarse voice) He started!

Merlin: (yelling) I don't care who started it! You are ending it. Now! (to the people who is around in a circle) What are you looking at? GO!

People gathered around: (disperse)

Merlin: (turns to Gwaine and Arthur, dead serious) We are going to Gaius now and I don't want to hear a single word from you until we are there. Do I make myself clear?

Arthur: Merl-

Gwaine: But he-

Merlin: (raises his voice) I said, do I make myself clear? 😠

Arthur and Gwaine: (nod effusively)

Merlin: (sighs, tired, and turns to Percival) Percival, help Gwaine. (to the knights) You, help your prince. (turns to Lancelot) Lancelot, carry me on your back.

Arthur: Why is Lancelot carrying you on his back? 😠

Merlin: BECAUSE I'M INDISPOSED! 😡 And you are not exactly fit to carry me right now.

Arthur: (tries to stand up) Of course I-Ow! (winces in pain)

Merlin: That's what I thought.

Arthur: (opens his mouth to protest)

Merlin: Not another word! (to the others) What are you waiting for?!

Everyone present: (hurry to do what Merlin said)

Percival: (whispers to Lancelot) I take back what I said about him being defenseless, he is scary.

Lancelot: (whispers back, smiling) You'll learn soon enough Merlin is not what everyone sees.

...

Arthur after his fight with Gwaine:

This Arthur is so full of red flags I swear xD

Any idea of what is going to happen next?

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity , @lucifertookmyshoe @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart , @thebigoblin , @toomanyfanficsbruh , @farmboyprince , @nonsensefunsense , @slightly-psycho-multifan , @jxmimac , @anarchelsworld , @beepbeep-yeah , @faithiikins , @the-moons-undying-light

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Cold - A Javier Peña Drabble

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Rating: E. I cannot emphasize this enough. E. I have to go hide actually. Unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), big phat breeding kink, mentions of birth control. Word Count: 1695 a/n: This started with a tweet, then transitioned to art, then became whatever this is after I spent way too long staring at Javier Pena's face. Lord help me.

You wished you were still in Columbia, back where you could spend your nights lounging with only a thin sheet and Javier's arm draped across your frame instead of the multitude of blankets currently weighing you down and the thick sweatshirt you stole from his closet. Even Texas wasn't supposed to be this cold, but here you were, shivering like you were still in your childhood home where white winters were commonplace and the public's definition of freezing averaged at twenty below.

"I'm cold," you complain to your husband, your face barely visible amidst the cocoon he'd nestled you into when he rose for the morning.

Javier turns, looking like he's immune to the temperature as he stares at you with his slacks still unbuttoned, leaving you the perfect line of sight to the coarse hair that disappears into the dark fabric. "You have like four blankets on," he teases, grabbing a t-shirt from the drawer and smirking when you frown.

You bury further into the blankets in question, trying to hold in the whimper that threatens to escape when he pulls the shirt down over the warm skin you'd like to still be huddled against. "Will you please come back to bed?"

"I was already late on Tuesday," he reminds you, reaching for one of his dress shirts and haphazardly pulling it from its hanger. He shrugs it over his shoulders, buttoning it despite your obvious disappointment.

"But I'm cold."

He puts on his tie instead of responding, looping it around his neck and mechanically going through the motions he's repeated nearly every morning since the two of you returned to his hometown.

"Please, Javier?" you try again, your tone nearing pleading territory. "I'm freezing."

"Cariño," he returns, equally stubborn as the knot tightens around his neck.

The silence that hangs between you then is palpable, with tension thick enough to cut with a knife, so you deliver what you hope will be the final blow just as he turns to the bedroom door. "You wouldn't leave the mother of your future children to freeze to death, would you?"

He stills.

Bingo.

It wasn't that kids were out of the question for you, but rather that it wasn't something you'd ever thought he wanted. Not when he's never lacked reasons as to why children weren't in the cards. That is, until you overheard his conversation with Chucho the night before.

"He's been dropping hints with me, too," you explain, because it's true. His father has been making off-handed comments about how much he'd love to see kids scampering around the ranch and how he isn't getting any younger.

Something must short-circuit in Javi's brain at the thought though, because you can see the shift is his posture. The momentary contemplation of whether he should give into your plea and face the inevitable conversation that will come with it or if he should continue on as though he hadn't heard you and never bring it up again. If he was the same Javier as the man you first met in Bogota, he'd choose the latter.

But that's not the Javier standing in front of you now.

He turns, his tie off before his knees even hit the bed. His shirt is half unbuttoned by the time he's close enough to pull the blankets back from your body, revealing your trembling frame, although it's difficult to determine if the way you shudder is because of the cold or a result of the wanting look in his eyes. The room already feels warmer, despite the way he tugs the sweatshirt off your frame with ease.

When he reaches for his belt, you're quick to stop him, silently commanding him to allow you to slowly undo the buckle, then the button, and to drag the zipper down slowly. Javi usually isn't a patient man, not when it comes to this and certainly not when it comes to you, but for once he seems to revel in watching you pull his aching cock from his slacks and carefully trail your tongue along the length of it.

From your position on the bed, knees digging into the plush mattress as you lean over the side, he has the leverage he needs to guide your mouth to his tip. Spurred on by the groan he lets out as you wrap your lips around him, you increase the pace, working his length carefully. It's only when you reach your hand up to join the effort that he hisses.

"Fuck, Cariño, your fingers are freezing." You think he's going to stop you, but he doesn't, his warm hand wrapping over yours to encourage your motions. It's only when you need to come up for air that he lets you sit back, crowding into your space and forcing you back against the bed.

Prior to this moment, you fear you've severely underappreciated the importance of body heat, especially with the way your husband is basically a furnace. The smooth panes of his chest feel hot to the touch as they press you into the sheets, his lips shifting down your body and encasing you in the fever of the moment. He's pulled the plush comforter back over you both, ensuring you have it clutched up to your shoulders as he moves lower, settling with his body buried beneath the blankets and his head between your thighs.

The stripe he licks through your folds feels counterproductive though, the action sending another shiver up your spine. Usually, when he has his nose pressed against your clit and his tongue is lapping up your release, your hands are buried in his dark hair, but it's all you can do now to cling to the edge of the blanket, fists tight in the fabric as he races you to toward the edge.

Not that it's difficult for him.

You're barely aware of the way he's crawling back up your body and easing into you in what feels like a singular motion, mind still hazy from your first fading orgasm. He stills once he's buried to the hilt, already looking wrecked, and you figure he probably is with how your walls are still clenching around him. It's always been a tight fit, but this morning, with the way he has you entirely surrounded by his warmth, you're certain you can feel every inch.

"Tell me you meant that," he commands, lips trailing down your jawline and to the spot behind your ear that he knows will get you to say anything. "Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you."

When you don't respond, it's his fingers on your bundle of nerves that has you keening, his second attempt at the request quickly followed by the answer spilling from your lips. "Yes! Fuck, Javi, I want to make you a Daddy." Much to your dismay, he pauses, his fingers leaving your clit to grab one of the pillows next to your head, snaking it beneath the blanket and lifting your hips from the mattress to settle it beneath them. It changes the angle, the thick patch of hair you'd admired earlier rubbing against you with each new thrust.

It's not cold in the room anymore, certainly not beneath the blankets as he rocks into you. "I'm gonna fuck my cum so deep, Cariño."

"I'm still on the pill," you remind him breathlessly, your half numb mind finally catching up with the reality that he likely can't get you pregnant, not this time at least, but he obviously doesn't care.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm gonna hide those fucking pills the second I'm done with you," he assures you, large hands grabbing at your hips and pulling back so the blankets cascade around him. "Then I'm gonna crawl back into this bed and fuck you until it takes."

Your body is again exposed to the cool air of the bedroom, but you don't particularly notice. You're too far gone to care, but he's even closer, his hips stuttering in an uneven pattern until all you can feel is warmth. The heat of his sticky skin against yours when he collapses on top of you, the intensity of his release filling you, and the fury of your climax as it washes over your entire body.

It takes a minute for him to recover, pulling from you with a loud groan. You try to move with him, but he stills you with a hand to your stomach, pressing down for just a moment and ordering you to stay while he crawls from the blankets and tucks you back in. A wave of disappointment appears in your chest as you watch him retreat to the bathroom, but it's the grin on his face when he returns a moment later that has you laughing.

"You didn't."

Javi sneaks back in beside you, the damp cloth he'd brought with him from the bathroom set aside on the table next to the bed. "What? What did I do?" he asks innocently, even as his fingers find their way back to your center, gathering his spend to push it back in. The action makes you hiss and, for a moment, you forget your questioning, too distracted by how his fingers curl inside you and the way he's whispering in your ear. "Can't waste a drop."

"Javier," you groan in a way that has you both unsure if you're scolding him or praising him, but he seems to settle a moment later, reaching for the cloth and cleaning the remainder of his mess from between your thighs. "Did you actually hide my pills?" you ask, more coherent now than before.

He responds with a kiss to your cheek, tossing the washcloth to the side and wrapping his arms back around you. "I'm gonna call out today," he murmurs against your skin. When you open your mouth to inquire again, you're cut off by the force of his lips against your own, his smile evident as he leans into you. "After all," he pulls back, "now that you're out of birth control pills, it would be neglectful of me to leave the mother of my children to freeze."

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: Letter Writing Fics!

There's something so romantic about writing letters -- even when they aren't love letters! The idea of taking the time and effort to put pen to paper, to share your thoughts and feelings with someone else, to drop them into a mailbox and wait (im)patiently for their response... poetry. Even with modern emails -- they may not inherently be quite as dreamy, but you can still capture a lot of the same energy and vulnerability and connection.

Here are ten fics focusing on written communication, mostly physical letters but some diaries or online communication as well. We've got a lot of historical stories, a lot of long-distance, and SO much pining. Read, kudos, comment, reblog, follow, subscribe -- and get ready for the next category!

Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by SadaVeniren/@sadaveniren (42495, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Omega Prince Harry writes letters to Prince Ludwig to whom he'd been promised to marry since birth, while he gets to know Louis, a simple worker from the neighbouring kingdom. The same, he's supposed to marry the prince of for a truce

Reccer says: the double/secret identity always gets me. also they building of their relationship while also trying to keep key parts of them hidden

Just Another Card Again by tippitytap/@tippitytap (3775, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Dear reader, this is a story of Harry and Louis falling in love through greeting cards and being neighbours. With love, Clifford

Reccer says: So so cute and the links to the cards are such a nice touch.

Dirty Diana by yeah_alright/@uhoh-but-yeah-alright (3042, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry writes to his confidante Diana every day for a month about all his Louis fantasies.

Reccer says: Really creative, hot, and so funny! Filled with smutty ideas but the tone is light and fun - such a great combo! The juxtaposition of Harry's dirty thoughts and his sweet way of communicating with Diana made me giggle throughout the fic

adjudication by barchive/@bottomlinsons (75000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry has fallen for his betrothed through letters she written him over the years, but when he finally arrives to marry her, he learns things aren't what he has believed

Reccer says: It's so well crafted. The plotting and pacing are excellent and the use of miscommunication is really well done. Plus there's some very swoonworthy scenes!

all the sins you didn’t have by Brooklyn_Babylon/@twopoppies (99522, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: A sexual assault, not going all the way

It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron. Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake.

Reccer says: Everything is amazing -- the theme, the location, the era, the atmosphere. And it’s wonderfully written. I love the gorgeous sensory details, and how the author uses those to cast light on the characters’ hidden emotions.

No One Like You by my own spark/@myownsparknow (19932, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

Reccer says: I love the nerdy art-historical discoveries!

Blue Moon by Aquietlarrie/@aquietlarrie (152907, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

it’s the late 50’s. times are ‘simple’. rock n roll is in full swing. vinyl, music and dancing are the primary ways of entertaining yourself, and in a time where loving someone of the same sex is illegal, two strangers catch each other’s eyes across a dancefloor and do just that. over the span of a year and in between two cities, harry and louis happen to find each other at just the right time.

Reccer says: I thought this was SO well-researched—the 50s vibes are immaculate.

Lonely Cards Club by Hellolovers13/@hellolovers13 (25837, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson ) – fic post

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. 💌

Reccer says: This fic is so sweet! Just the perfect bit of gentle cheer, love, and mystery.

miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry/@loveislarryislove (1700, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is studying abroad in New Zealand, but he keeps in close communication with his long-term boyfriend back in England.

Reccer says: This fic is told entirely through social media posts, texts, emails, etc, which is a super cool medium! It's very sweet feeling their connection from so far apart.

Dearest Gemma (I fell in love) by Thingsicant (1300, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry writes his sister letters as he meets, falls in love with, and courts a handsome blacksmith.

Reccer says: Harry's ups and downs of emotion make me laugh, and the surprise Louis has been working on is so sweet.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 9: The Shadow to my Flame

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

It was quiet. Almost too quiet.

The past Monday mornings, Ashe had woken up and immediately heard the new gruesome news from all over the court. She would hear how many people had been killed and how many villages the soldiers had gone through.

That Monday morning, she heard nothing. There were no important rumours going around. Only some whispers here and there about who kissed who.

It felt almost wrong.

Ashe’s back had healed a lot over the night. The cream Azriel left her worked wonders. She could now move and walk almost at a normal pace without pain.

“There you are,” Maria said as Ashe walked into the kitchen. “How are you doing?”

“I’m getting better. What’s my tasks for today?”

Ashe would usually be on breakfast duty, but Maria let her sleep in.

“Cleaning and then the Lady this evening. The High Lords are still here. The dinner will be very formal.”

That made Ashe understand that the breakfast meeting that was planned yesterday could not have gone to plan. So, the only reason why it was quiet that morning was that the High Lord was occupied with guests.

Ashe felt low on hope as she made her way throughout the day. She just wanted this nightmare of a slaughter to be finished.

It was almost four o’clock when she made her way to the Lady’s chamber.

She knocked twice and waited patiently for someone to either open the door or tell her to come in. It took an unusually long time for the door to open. When it did, Ashe immediately did a small bow before she looked up at…

The heir of the Day Court?

He looked at her and then smiled a small smile that didn’t even get close to meeting his eyes before he quickly left. What was he doing in the Lady’s chamber?

“Come in Ashe,” the Lady’s voice pulled Ashe from her thoughts.

She rushed into the door and closed the door behind her.

It was no secret that the High Lord had affairs with different females, but Ashe had no clue how the Lady dared to do the same. It made the respect Ashe had for the Lady to grow even more.

“You won’t tell anyone, right Ashe?” the Lady’s soft voice asked her. She was looking at Ashe the same way she always did. With gratitude, guilt and longing. Ashe always imagined it would be because the Lady wished for a different life.

“Of course I won’t, my lady,” Ashe answered with a small bow.

The Lady looked upset that day. She had a lot on her mind. Her eyes were distant as Ashe curled her hair and did her make-up. The usual pleasant and formal conversation the two of them usually had was non-existent. Ashe felt the need to know if the Lady was okay, but she knew better than to ask.

It was only five o’clock when Ashe finished. The Lady had wished for an easy style, both for her hair and her makeup.

Ashe was on her way out, when the Lady stopped her.

“Can I do your hair?” Ashe turned to face the Lady, but she didn’t know what to answer. It felt illegal. “Please?”

The Lady pulled out the chair and visibly wanted Ashe to sit down. Ashe was a servant, she wasn’t supposed to let the Lady do anything for her. But at the same time, she was supposed to do what the Lady asked for.

Ashe sat down in the chair and the Lady started brushing through her dark brown hair.

“You colour your hair, right? It’s red originally?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She only nodded at Ashe and moved over to the curling. She used such soft movements, Ashe almost got sleepy from them. She felt the need to lean onto the Lady and soften all the tension she carried. Ashe felt safe. It terrified her.

Ashe fought against the feelings of safety as the Lady kept working on her hair. She tried to keep her eyes open and controlled. Ashe was sure someone would walk through the door any moment now and have her fired or punished for not doing her job.

Ashe looked at the Lady and saw the soft smile she wore. Her eyes were the soft eyes Ashe was used to seeing on her when they were alone.

It was no secret that the Lady only stayed with the High Lord for the protection of their children. It was also no secret that the Lady was mourning the children she lost because of the High Lord’s evil punishments. Lucian had always been her favourite, Eris had told Ashe that. Lucian had a special place in the Lady’s heart. She hadn’t been able to save Jesminda and she had therefore lost Lucian.

Ashe was there to do the evening care for the Lady that night. Both had cried their eyes out and Ashe was asked to not leave the chambers before the Lady was asleep. Ashe stayed for hours. It was first the day after they learned that Lucian was alive in the Spring Court.

“You’re beautiful, Ashe,” the Lady told her.

Ashe looked at herself in the mirror and smiled a little at the soft curls that bounced at her shoulders. She was about to look back up at the Lady and thank her, when she noticed that the Lady was crying. Ashe rushed out of the chair.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” she said.

She had made the Lady cry. She was sure of it. Oh cauldron, she was getting fired. That’s why the Lady was so nice to her.

“Nothing to apologize for Ashe,” the Lady answered. She again wore a sad smile. “Can you help me get dressed?”

Ashe walked three meters behind the Lady as they made their way to the dining room. When they arrived, all the guests were already there. All the High Lords as well as their generals or other important people.

Ashe felt almost intimidated. At the ball, she had been one of many servants that handed out food and drinks. That evening, she was only one of five. And her job was to stand completely still behind the Lady and not move until the evening was over. She felt almost exposed.

That was until she saw the hazel eyes again. They looked as soft and kind as they had done the day before. Even though his face were neutral and almost cold, she saw the kindness in him.

His eyes met hers for only a second, but he gave away nothing.

Azriel stood together with his High Lord and the kind general. Even though the Night Court was supposed to be mean and intimating, Ashe couldn’t help but remember the kindness both the general and Azriel had shown her. They were all dressed in nice suits and Ashe couldn’t help herself than to look two, three or four extra times at Azriel’s muscles.

They were all standing, having small, pleasant conversations. They were waiting for the High Lord of Autumn to arrive. No one dared to sit before he arrived. Not even the other High Lords.

Ashe looked around and noticed Eris was looking at her. They usually didn’t sense each other when in public, so Ashe got a bad feeling from it. Had she messed up something?

Then the doors opened, and the High Lord of Autumn walked in, Ashe could immediately sense his bad mood. He looked angry, disappointed and annoyed. He was set on sitting down as quickly as possible.

That was until he spotted Ashe in the corner of his eyes.

He stopped abruptly, and turned towards her.

Ashe almost let out a whimper from his quick movements. She was convinced he was going to hit her.

However, he didn’t, and Ashe immediately go down into a deep curtesy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and Ashe felt the shivers go down her back. Tears were pressing on her eyes. She hated how terrifying he was.

“I’m here for the Lady, my lord,” she answered. She hated how her voice shook.

“Leave.”

Ashe was almost stupid enough to protest, but she then both saw and felt Eris’ eyes burn into her.

“Yes, my lord,” she said and gave him another deep curtesy before she left.

What was going to be a chill evening helping the Lady quickly became cleaning duty. When Ashe got to her room it was well past midnight, and she only wanted to sleep. She was about to lay down, face first, in her bed, when she felt something tickle her arm. Then her leg. And her neck.

Ashe was about to freak out when the shadows appeared before her. She then didn’t know if she should relax or freak out even more, so she just stayed still.

The shadows kept tickling her skin. They were soft but cold. They spent a lot of time searching around her entire body, spending longer time on the parts where she had more scars. Their movements felt nice. Ashe liked them, she realized. Even though that was hard to think, given she had watched them kill only days before.

They eventually stopped and formed a hand in front of her. They handed her a letter.

Hello, Wildflame

You did not joke when you said that the High Lord does not like you very much.

Beron has decided to stop the slaughter. The other courts have given him a trade offer he could not say no to.

We’re leaving for the Night Court tomorrow morning, however I need a document from the High Lord’s office. Could you help me sneak into it tonight? Both Cass and Rhys would bring too much attention.

It is dangerous, so if you do not wish to do it that’s okay, but I would appreciate your help.

Tell the shadows your answer. If yes, I’ll come to your room shortly.

Shadow

Ashe had to admit that she was a little worried. What did he want from the High Lord? And why couldn’t he do it himself? Was it that hard to get?

At the same time, she felt the need to help him. It he was going on something so dangerous that he needed help, she would join and…protect him?

She felt the need to protect him? Why?

Ashe shook her feelings out and spoke to the shadows.

“I’m in,” she said, and they surrounded her. It almost felt like a cold hug.

It didn’t take long for Azriel to arrive in her room. He was now dressed in fight leathers and this muscles were even more visible than before.

He was hot. Ashe could not explain him any other way.

“Ready?”

She nodded and he took her hand. He wore gloves that covered his scars. She looked down at her down arms and felt the need to hide her own. Even though the glove was between them, she felt the heat from his hand.

He sent his shadow out and a few seconds later, he opened the door, and they were on their way. Before every corner, they would stop and Azriel would send out his shadows. When they were not looking out for people, the shadows covered them to keep them at least a little more hidden.

Azriel always walked before Ashe, but he didn’t let go of her hand. She felt safe. That was until they were about to round another corner and heard footsteps.

Azriel immediately sprung into action and dragged Ashe through the first available door. A small cupboard. There were no room for space between them. Azriel pushed Ashe into the wall and covered her with his body and wings. His hand held hers tighter than before.

Ashe felt the shadows emerge both of them.

They stood as steady as they could. Each breath felt dangerous. However, Ashe felt hope that whoever it was, would leave. Who would walk into a cupboard in the middle of the night?

“I know you’re there,” a voice sounded. “I’ll find you.”

The voice and steps only got closer and closer, and Ashe felt herself grow terrified.

Shadows then moved into her hair and began stroking it carefully. It made her calm down, even if it was just a little.

That was until the door to the cupboard opened. The shadows left her hair and immediately started to make the wall of darkness between them and the fae on the other side of the door thicker.

Azriel’s hand tightened around hers. It was like he was telling her that it would be okay.

After the longest seconds of her life, the door closed and Azriel was the first to let out a sigh of relief.

He tried to let go of her hand, but Ashe didn’t let him. She was too shaken.

Azriel tucked his wings tight against his back as he turned towards her. It was almost completely dark, but Ashe could still see his face and eyes. Azriel reached up his hand and brushed some hair away from her face.

Ashe got the overwhelming need to kiss him. It wasn’t even something she wanted, she needed it.

It seemed like Azriel felt the same way, because it was he that leaned down to her, pressing her lightly against the wall, as he kissed her so softy. His lips were warm and soft, and Ashe felt herself melt into him. He did the same to her.

His hand was on her cheek now, and some of his shadows were playing with her hair.

Cauldron it felt nice. Nice to feel him so close. To share such a soft kiss. Nothing was rushed. It was completely new to Ashe. She had never kissed anyone willingly before, and even though she barely knew him, it felt so right that it was Azriel she was kissing.

He let out the quietest sigh as he pulled away.

“Your hair looked really nice today,” he said.

“You look amazing in a suit,” she answered.

He gave her a small nervous smile before he let his hand fall from her cheek.

“This is too dangerous. I’ll try again later tonight,” he explained.

Ashe felt relived, even though she really wanted to spend more time with him. She hoped they could meet in a less serious way, but she somehow doubted it.

He held her hand all the way back to her room. However, now his thumb was softly moving back and forth over the back of her hand. It was such a small thing, but Ashe still got weak in the knees.

He stopped and let her open the door to her room. She walked in and looked at him. He didn’t want to join her? Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do?

 He walked towards her but stopped right at the entrance of her door. He leaned down and kissed her once more.

“Good night, Wildflame.”

He then walked away.

Ashe felt her heart dance a dance of happiness and she couldn’t help but to join in on its dance.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky @mis-lil-red

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Monty, Charles, and Edwin (Arranged Marriage AU: Chapter 4)

Monty tries. It has to be said that he tries. He tries and he fails, as was inevitable, but he does try, and that has to be worth something.

It has to be worth something, or else he has nothing to cling to, no anchor to convince himself that he hasn’t betrayed everything that he has learned to love.

“I don’t have any information for you,” Monty says, because he is not prey anymore. He is not a predator, either, he doesn’t know how to be, he doesn’t know how to unmake himself and reshape his bones into something new, but he is doing his best.

But Monty has long known that his best is not good enough. It never has been, and it never will be.

Esther tsks. “You might be an idiot, but even you are not that useless. You’ve cozied up to those Dead Boys, I know. Gotten under their skins. Made yourself useful to them. You must know plenty of things. You've never had a thought of your own."

Monty's jaw clenches. He is not prey or predator, now, but he is a person. And people are allowed to think. To hold feelings and thoughts of their own. To be their own. "It doesn't matter if I know anything-"

“If you won’t give me what you’re supposed to,” Esther says, “Then I’ll just have to take it. Remind you, Monty dear, of who you’re supposed to serve.”

Esther’s cane arcs downward, and the thing is that Monty could run. He could try to dodge, to avoid the blows that are coming, to run and fight and be the sort of husband that stands up for himself.

But Monty Finch was never built for fight or flight, had those instincts trained out of him years and years ago, so why would he be able to engage in either now?

-aletterinthenameofsanity, the devil's gonna make me a free man (gonna set me free)

Never woulda seen the trouble that I'm in

If it hadn't been for love

Nobody knows it better than me

I wouldn't be wishing I was free

If it hadn't been for love

Four cold walls without parole

Lord, have mercy on my soul

-The Steeldrivers, If It Hadn’t Been For Love

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

@likemmmcookies @wr0temyway0ut @thelakeswillbreakourfall

@sapphic-corgi @occasionaloneshots @troublegoblin

@cairngorm-ard @petesdragon @spacegirlsgang

@fandoms-are-my-lifestyle @frottow @sixbynine-da

[glasvera]

Fool Me Twice...

Loki x GN!Reader

Description: Part Three, preceded by Fool Me Once... and ...Shame on You

You've been sent on a covert mission to distract the God of Mischief himself long enough to foil his plans. Unfortunately, this task becomes much harder when your target proves incredibly disarming.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Proposal, illusions/misdirection. Gender neutral reader, reader is an expert in covert operations and deception.

A/N: There will be one more part to this. This series went on an entirely different path than I had expected it to. For example, I thought this was going to end in smut, but now I'm not so sure LOL

Word Count: 1.8k

The hours, no, the days begin to blur. Your mission is turning into a distant memory, even if the instincts remain. You pour your own drinks, you make note of every exit, and you ensure some sort of improvised weapon is near you at all times.

But other than that? You were swooning.

Loki had you wrapped around his little finger. You were at his beck and call. The other servants could sense the shift between you two, and on occasion you could hear their giggles and whispers. Yet somehow, it didn’t bother you at all.

Perhaps it was because you knew, not just out of intuition, but from your scavenged intel, that you were truly the only one he treated this way. Late nights in the garden, stolen kisses in quiet corridors… they were all yours. And that was the most intoxicating part of it all.

Light filters through the parting curtains in Loki’s bedchambers, and you hear him groaning and shifting about with displeasure. You try to be considerate about it, of course. It’s not as though you yank the curtains apart. But despite your affections, despite the way you might allow him to sleep all day if he wished it, you did have duties to attend to. Both of you did.

“Mm… is it truly morning already? Bah…” he grumbles as he wipes the sleep from his eyes. Disgust curls his lip while he forces himself to sit up. When he glances over to your silhouette by the window, blinded by the light as he is, he covers his eyes. At least your presence seems to soften his disgust slightly. “Ah, well… I suppose there are worse things in this multiverse than being awakened by my dearest attendant.”

You feel a delicate warmth paint your cheeks as you smile. “I still believe they should begin calling you the God of Flattery, my lord,” you reply cheekily.

He scoffs at that, shaking his head. “I do so loathe when you mistake my advances for idle flattery,” he chides.

“Well, forgive me for finding it quite so difficult to believe that one such as yourself would take interest in your servant,” you chuckle as you fetch his robe, draping it around his figure as he stands.

“Ugh, you know you are so much more than that, my sweet,” he argues as he turns to face you, placing his delicate fingers upon your chest. “You are pretty, and I do so like being pampered, but surely you must understand my affections go deeper.”

Words are difficult to form when he’s this close, and your heart beats rapidly beneath where his hand lay. “I…”

“Or did all of those kisses mean nothing to you?” he asks with a frown. He looks like a wounded animal when he stares into your eyes, and gods do you hate how impossible it is for you to resist.

“No!” you are quick to reply, clasping your hand over his and holding it to your chest. “No, it’s… they…”

He sighs, though at least his frown tilts upwards into a small smile. “I suppose I can forgive such thoughts. I am a master of deception, after all…”

The morning continues on most uneventfully. You groom him, dress him in his finest silks, and even polish his armor to a glorious shine before assisting him in its donning. Though, you must admit, his cloak has always been your favorite part. Collared with the softest furs, it’s all you can do not to just bury your face into it. That doesn’t stop your hands from lingering in the plush of it with your fingertips as you wrap it around his shoulders. A chortle hums in his throat when he notices.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Made of the finest white Flerken furs…” When he sees the horror flash upon your face in the mirror, he can’t help the cackle that bursts forth from his chest. “I merely kid, my dear. Quite frankly, I have no idea what this cloak is made of.”

A nervous chuckle escapes from your lips at his reassurances, and you smooth the fur down to calm yourself in its soft fibers. He gazes at you through the mirror with a tenderness so rarely seen in the God of Mischief, but it’s gone just as quickly as you notice it. His face returns to one of business.

“There are some diplomatic affairs I must attend to, and I suppose my subjects are worthy of a speech from their leader. I of course expect you to accompany me for the duration of my duties.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror once he finishes relaying the assignments, and you pause with your fingers combing through his silken black locks.

“You… wish for me to accompany you for the speech as well? Won’t your royal guards suffice?” you ask, surprised.

He sighs, sounding like a parent describing what should be an easily grasped concept to their child. Standing from his vanity, he turns towards you and places his hands on your waist. You gaze up into those emerald eyes attentively, holding your own hands close to your chest.

“It is a matter of pleasure and not duty that drives me to such a request,” he explains, rubbing soothing circles into your sides with his thumbs. “Surely you have noticed that we have been, well… noticed.”

Your eyes widen. Does he mean to go public with your relations? “Is… is that wise, my lord?”

“Pah. I do not care if it is wise. I sit upon the throne of Yggsgard. My word is law,” he spits back, even if his venom is not directed upon you. There is an undeniable passion in his voice that catches you off guard, and your heart drums in your chest. That he would go to such lengths for you… it boggles the mind.

But you certainly wouldn't complain.

“Consider it done, my lo-”

He hushes you with a finger to your lips.

“Please… we are alone. Must you continue to be so formal?” he says, his voice low as his hand moves to caress your jaw.

“I…” you pause, leaning into the comforting warmth of his palm. “Of course, Loki,” you acquiesce with a bashful smile.

“Ah, there is that beautiful symphony of letters I so love hearing from your lips,” he whispers in reply. The old you would have rolled your eyes, but instead you simply titter at his display of ego.

You float high in the clouds for the rest of the day, too enamored to even be bored as you wait idly by during those meetings you both loathed so much. Instead, you can only focus on Loki, ready to refill his glass when needed and willing to attend to his every whim. At least this time you didn’t have to escort the other party out by force.

When it finally comes time to address his subjects, you are beside yourself with glee. It is difficult to contain it, but you do, fidgeting with the clasps of your belt. It’s surreal, standing next to him on that high balcony overlooking dozens upon dozens of his subjects. The sun shines brightly, sometimes a bit painfully as you cover your eyes.

It’s better this way.

This way, it is difficult to see the mourning, the disdain, the abject loathing on display upon so many faces. Loki may not be the god of the sun, but he is thankful that it is on his side this afternoon. After all, he is the one who scheduled his speech in the first place.

But you didn’t have to know that.

No, there are oh so many things you are so much better not knowing. Ignorance is bliss, as they say, and he was quite intent on ensuring that bliss was his and his alone. Well, yours as well, of course. But most certainly his.

“People of Yggsgard!” he bellows, thrusting his hands into the air with grand bravado. “I know I do not grace you all with my presence nearly so much as I should. It is a terrible error I am keen to rectify.”

There are murmurs among the crowd, nervous and trembling. At least, that is reality. Your reality is entirely different while Loki conjures the illusions of cheering for your ears alone. Those “cheers” bring a gentle smile to your face.

Why… for what purpose had you been sent here? What evil had your team… had you…

“Ah, but fear not! I have come bearing only good news on this day.” The continuation of his speech distracts you entirely from your thoughts, and your attention is once again his and his alone. “Today, on this most wonderful of days, I must introduce you to someone. Someone quite important.”

A hush falls over the crowd, and he doesn’t even have to mask it. After all, how could you even think to recognize the underlying apprehension behind it? So he grins devilishly, taking your hand in his, and raising it up for all to see.

“This, my dearest subjects, is Y/N L/N, my favorite attendant, the proverbial apple of my eye, and the cause of more than a few rumors in the palace halls.” He gives a knowing glance and an almost evil smirk to the guards around you both, and they visibly stiffen. But then he turns towards you, taking both of your hands in his now. Vibrant green eyes captivate you as his smile softens. “Yet most importantly, this individual is the source of more joy than I have ever known.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. To so proudly, so openly declare such a thing…

And then he takes a knee.

Gods above, he’s kneeling before you.

“And so, with all of Yggsgard to witness,” he declares while one hand delves into his pocket, “I would ask you, my heart of hearts, my shining jewel…”

He holds a golden ring towards you, capped with a veridian emerald that perfectly catches the setting sun on every facet.

“Will you marry me? Will you rule Yggsgard alongside me?”

The world halts around you. Your heart pounds frantically in your chest. Surely you were imagining things? There’s no way that, after what could have only been a couple of months, you were being proposed to by your t--

Oh gods. Your target. Something shatters in your mind. Where there was once a haze of sweet fluffy cotton in your brain, there is stark, realm-quaking clarity. Your sense returns to you, and terror turns your veins to ice.

Just pull away. Simply tell him no. Retreat and try something else. The mission relies upon you and your signal. You can’t fail now. Perhaps a wedding could provide the distraction you need, but the thought simply fills you with dread.

You open your lips, the word at the tip of your tongue. When you speak, it will all be over. And yet, to your horror, your voice is not your own.

“Yes!”

[tthoroughfare]

still thinking about ellie's hair but this time about helping her cut it. canon!ellie cuts her own hair. modern!ellie cuts her own hair. every iteration of ellie butchers her own hair this could truly take place in any universe

heading over to her place because you're collecting her to head out, finding her in front of the bathroom mirror in a sports bra, kitchen scissors in hand and shirt thrown somewhere on the floor

just, like, unmethodically chopping bits off

she calls out a 'hey' when she hears you come in, not taking her eyes off what she's doing, pulling one of the foremost strands outstretched then snipping the end off.

"oh, fuck," she says when the piece of hair falls back in place, realizing she's cut way too much off. plus, it's completely uneven.

you scoff at her, coming up behind her and making a show of checking your watch. "is there a reason you've decided to do this now?"

"it was too long. it was pissing me off."

taking her arm, you pivot her around to face you, laughing lightly when you take a proper look. "dude, you've fucked the front up."

"i know, shut up," she whines sheepishly, attempting to turn back towards the mirror, but you stop her.

you examine the pieces, gently swiping them out of her face and trying to get them to sit in a better way. "it's not that bad, it just needs, like... blending?"

"yeah, what do you think i was trying to do?" she replies, words reducing to a short, breathy laugh. a small smile stays on her face as she watches you, eyes flickering over your face while you look at her hair, thinking how to mend it.

"sit down, let me try."

she pulls a little bit of an unsure face, but relents anyway, slowly taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub and handing you the scissors. "i swear to god, if i have to shave my fuckin' head because of you..."

you tut. "can't really make it any worse."

"rude."

"you're rude," you murmur, leaning down and beginning to make some attempt at feathering the choppy strands.

"i'm sweet."

"when you wanna be."

ellie blows air out of her nose and smiles gently in response. your left knee comes up to rest on the edge of the tub, thigh slotting next to her. she automatically shifts her hand onto it, thumb swiping over absent-mindedly as she looks up at you.

it's quiet as you concentrate, brow furrowing subconsciously whilst you try and fix ellie's mess. you didn't really have a clue what you were doing, just trying to make it appear more even without taking too much more off.

anyway, she's content to sit there gazing at you with a tiny, lopsided smile, eyes dripping with adoration as she smooths her fingertips over your thigh.

she breaks the silence halfway through, thinking out loud. "you look good."

you chuckle. when you first met ellie, she was shy around you; but since being together you swiftly figured out once she's out of her shell, she's a shameless flirt. "thank you. so do you."

"want me to eat you out before we go?"

you blow air out of your nose, leaning back to tousle her hair into place. "we're already late."

"i can be quick."

ignoring the way that makes your lower stomach flutter, you move to stand up straight. "did you do the back?"

"yeah, i think it's fine, though," she replies, feeling at the back of her hair.

"c'mere, let me check." you offer a hand to pull her up, and she turns away from you, allowing you to inspect her job. she's right, it looks fine; which makes you wonder how the hell she'd managed to mess up the part she could see, and not the part she was doing blindly.

you prod her in the back, feeling the way she jolts slightly. "you're good to go. that'll be a million dollars."

"ha-ha," she replies, pivoting around to look at herself in the mirror. she leans in, running a hand through the strands. "oh, yeah, it looks way better. thanks, babe."

"welcome." you lean past her to set the scissors down on the sink, pressing a small kiss to her shoulder as you do so. she turns around, taking you by the waist and pulling you into her, pressing languid, deliberate kisses over your neck.

"y'know, that kinda did it for me."

hand moving to thread through her hair, you chuckle at her statement. "why?"

she hums into your skin as she alters her path, mouth moving upwards and over your jaw, lips slotting against your own. "i don't know, 'cause you're hot. and you were, like, basically on top of me, looking all serious and concentrated and shit."

you laugh, taking her by both sides of her jaw, unable to help yourself from kissing her wantingly when you pull her back in.

of course you end up letting her eat you out before you go; ellie on her knees by the bed, your legs slung over her shoulders as she laps at your clit, fingertips pressing into your hips, roaming over your stomach.

you're already late, anyway.

[foolbehavior]

[@orvwomenweek] JHW & URIEL + Faith

[storgicdealer]

thinking about how chosens and darks existence and crimes were perceived in the internet and outernet. did they become a regular occurence there or something. JUST WHAT did other sticks think about them

if the timeline of golds death combined with darks supposed destruction of the internet this is probably how king would react

[waveridden]

Howie puts the car in park. Maddie blurts out, “I’m not ready to have sex yet.”

(Or: everything is about the sex they're not having, except the sex, which might be something else. Hell if Maddie knows what, though. 11k of post-s2 Madney, rated E.)

[rosdevw2]

Can you draw more dark x primal pls, I love your art btw

You asked so you shall receive

[hballegro]

i have more conspiracies about MASH that may or may not be true, but ive decided they are. they also just might have been explained, but im dumb, and cant remember. heres your sequel.

in 7x3 where hawkeye tackles bj, bj goes "AAH!' and hawkeye says 'WRONG! THAT STARTS WITH AN H!'. this is because mike farrell's line was 'hey!' but due to the force and drama of the scene, just Yelped instead.

All the dogs that turned up that never appeared again [like the one bj and hawk "ate" when they were trying to scare a visitor, dogs seen in 1 shot, etc] were just dogs that the production crew/cast owned and wanted to bring to work/volunteered their animal for acting duty

in the handful if scenes where hawkeye is actually knitting [and not using the red yarn, for the reason given in the previous edition], hes making a blankie for erin. [co-credit my sibling]

klinger got his ears pierced during the course of the show, starting with clearly just clip-ons and then later declares he doesnt want his ears to close up. some say continuity error, I say commitment (and also it would probably be easier to find real earrings instead of clip-ons)

in s7e2 Peace on Us, no one told bill christopher to tie that red streamer around his neck, he just thought it would be silly

in s7e2 Peace on Us, again, no one told alan alda to drive the jeep back to camp with his leg up like that. he just knows the character well enough to make that call. which he's correct about

the scar on hawkeye's lip was caused by a fishhook in his youth. got called Troutboy a long time afterward because of it.

bj is a vaseline girlie and takes good care of his hair as well.

hawkeye sniffs food because, having grown up partly during the depression, eating spoiled food was a real risk, so giving it a good ol' sniff-test was a given

fr mulcahy cares deeply about his appearance and engages in more grooming activities than any other guy in camp [the shower cap, always looking perfect, owning gardening gloves, manicured hands and feet, etc]. he even irons his stole on a bi-weekly basis and launders his clerical collars

hawkeye's issues with people leaving and not saying goodbye began with his mother after she passed, since his father didnt want him to worry

on nights where charles goes to bed after the other two, he will occasionally clean up a little bit. this contributes to why he's so pissed in 'Pressure Points'- he's been doing his own cleaning and some of theirs without them noticing or caring.

once again these are all just things that came to mind while watching, i didnt think too hard on them. the only one 'researched' on was the food sniffing, solely because i needed to do Year Math lol