#ornate gold frames mirror

[mayugene]

Enclosed in Dallas An illustration of a medium-sized, enclosed dining room with dark wood floors and orange walls.

[secretly-an-automaton]

at some point in my life I need to have someone record me walking around blindfolded while they shout navigations at me, just so I know how impressed I should be with Arthur’s faring as well as he has and looking even mildly normal about it

[reat13]

Bedroom Master in Dallas Huge elegant master dark wood floor and brown floor bedroom photo with green walls

[frozendistrict]

Powder Room in New York Powder room - victorian powder room idea with multicolored walls and an undermount sink

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky respects your own financial independence, but he also made sure you have access to his black card and use it when you need it. He doesn't care what you spend the money on, especially since the notification he gets those very rare times that you use his money is to buy something most practical or for your shared apartment.

However, he does not expect to see a notification for the purchase of some sex toys 😏

CHOCOLATE

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Timeline: Takes place 1-2 weeks after mint, 2-3 weeks after heat.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, creampie, food play, breeding kink. Feelings, so many feelings.

Author Notes: Surprise! At some points during the 2200 Followers Celebration poll, Devour Bucky and Chef were actually winning, so here's something I started months and months ago and brought out to finish for them. It's not quite everything from your ask, Eva, but I hope it's a satisfying scenario all the same...

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

You had known the exact moment your fiancé – mob boss, venture capitalist, or philanthropist depending on who you asked and what they knew – got the notification of your purchase.

James Buchanan Barnes had given you a black card weeks ago, before the engagement, but you hadn’t used it until this week. Bucky had gone to Chicago for business (and you were sure he was there for business as well), and instead of staying home and pining away for him, you decided to treat yourself. The notification must have pinged his phone during a meeting, because exactly 47 minutes later, your own phone lit up with his name.

"What's this Cartier expense I see?" his voice a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity.

You swallowed hard, fingering the velvet box in your lap. "Just a little shopping therapy while you're away. Nothing to worry about."

"Mmm," he hummed, unconvinced. "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to shower you with gifts."

"Well," you said, "maybe I wanted to surprise you for once."

There was a pause, and you could almost see him leaning back in his chair, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "I suppose I am a little surprised you finally used the card. But how about a challenge?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you see if you can shock me with a purchase?”

“Challenge accepted. What do I get?”

He chuckled. “You already know I’ll give you the world.”

Butterflies surged in your stomach. This man.

“You’re back Saturday afternoon?” you confirmed.

“Yes,” he growled. “There’s a round of golf I can’t seem to move or negotiate.”

You sighed softly. “It’s only three more days.”

“I like that you miss me.”

You huffed but couldn’t deny it.

“I’m missing you, too,” he said.

“James…” you breathed.

“Did you get the gift I sent?”

“I did.” A stunning, six-foot mirror with an ornate, gold-gilded frame had been delivered that morning to your apartment and placed in your bedroom.

��I was taken with how beautiful it was and you were my first thought.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

When you woke up Friday morning, you knew exactly how to shock him with the black card.

Or at least tease him.

The high-end, ridiculously expensive lingerie boutique you never thought you would enter in your lifetime - Boudoir.

The response to that expense notification was immediate, and you smirked when you read the text that came through.

JAMES: You have my interest piqued.

You thought for a moment, then typed out a reply.

YOU: Thought maybe I’d see if I can shock you and send some photos of what I got later tonight.

Three dots appeared straight away, and then

JAMES: Forget photos, I’ll fly out tonight straight away after my meeting with Levinson and come straight to you.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart swelling with adoration, anticipation, and maybe just a touch of nerves. You looked up the latest flights out of Chicago, and couldn’t help feeling a little forlorn. Even though the restaurant head chef life meant late nights for work, it would still be an ungodly hour when he landed.

YOU: I’ll try to stay up, but promise to wake me up if I’m asleep?

Again, you didn't have to wait long for his reply.

JAMES: I promise. Nothing could keep me from you tonight.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You glanced at the clock - it was barely noon. The hours until his arrival stretched before you, filled with anticipation and nervous energy. You busied yourself with things before work, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking clock and the bag from Boudoir sitting in your closet.

At Devour your mind was engaged fully in your craft and working with your team.

But once you returned home after the Friday night dinner service, you found yourself pacing the apartment, unable to settle. Should you put on the lingerie now? Wait until you heard from him? You compromised by showering and doing your hair and makeup, then slipping into a silky robe.

Just as you were debating whether to pour yourself a glass of wine to calm your nerves, your phone pinged.

JAMES: Landed. On my way to you.

Far earlier than you expected him, but a good thing, too.

Your heart raced as you read his message. You quickly made your way to the bedroom, retrieving the Boudoir bag from the closet with trembling hands. The delicate lace and silk felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the lingerie, adjusting the straps and garters with care. You stood before the new mirror James had sent, admiring how the deep, rich color complemented your skin tone. The set hugged your curves in all the right places. Standing before the mirror James had gifted you, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

A text alert broke your reverie.

JAMES: Five minutes.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the silky fabric once more before draping the robe back over your shoulders. You dimmed the lights in the bedroom and lit a few candles, creating a soft, inviting ambiance.

The sound of a key in the lock made your pulse quicken. You perched on the edge of the bed, listening as Bucky’s footsteps approached.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and adoration that made your breath catch in your throat. Would you ever get used to the way he looked at you?

"Well," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "this is certainly a welcome home."

You stood, your fingers toying with the tie of your robe. "I thought you might appreciate a little preview of my shopping spree."

He set a golden box on your dresser and then moved closer, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out, running his fingers along the edge of your robe. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he slowly undid the tie and pushed the silky fabric off your shoulders. The robe pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in the exquisite lingerie.

Bucky inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming over every inch of you. "Beautiful.” His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Show me how much you missed me," he growled.

You leaned into him, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. "I thought you were going to show me how much you missed me," you teased, running your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But first, I want to savor this moment. You've outdone yourself."

His hands roamed over the delicate lace and silk, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath hitch. You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the barely contained power in his muscles as he held you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until much, much later,” you said, breathing in the scent of him, cologne mingled with his natural musk. “The flights I saw had landings after midnight.”

He snorted. “My private jet provides service according to my schedule, not anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” was your soft and surprised reaction, realizing you should not be at all surprised to learn he owned a private jet.

"Turn around, love," he commanded softly. "Let me see all of you."

You complied, slowly spinning to face the mirror. He stood behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. His hands skimmed down your sides, fingertips tracing the lace edges of your lingerie. You shivered at his touch, watching as his expression darkened with desire.

"Do you see how stunning you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How every curve, every line of your body is a work of art?"

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him. "I see how you look at me," you whispered. "That's what makes me feel beautiful."

You watched in the mirror as his lips trailed up your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. Your breath quickened as one of his hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against him.

He growled low in his throat, his arms tightening around you. "You still have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice rough with need. His fingers traced the edge of the lace at your hip.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to cup his face. "Then show me," you challenged, your eyes locked on his.

Impossibly, his eyes darkened even more at your words, a predatory smile curving his lips. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss as he carried you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness.

"You want me to show you?" he growled, hovering over you. His fingers traced the delicate straps of your lingerie, sending shivers across your skin. "I'll show you exactly what you do to me."

He began a torturous exploration of your body, his lips and hands mapping every inch of you. The exquisite lingerie became both a barrier and a tantalizing tease as Bucky lavished attention on the exposed skin while skimming over the lace and silk. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"James," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair. "Please…"

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love. I've been dreaming of you all week."

His talented fingers deftly unclasped the delicate hooks of your bra, slowly peeling the lace away to reveal your skin beneath. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated flesh, arching into his touch as he palmed your breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along your collarbone. "So fucking beautiful."

You tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Too many clothes," you panted, fumbling with the buttons.

Bucky chuckled, sitting back on his heels to shrug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted torso as more of his skin was revealed. The dim candlelight cast shadows that accentuated every plane and angle of his muscular form.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Always," you breathed, reaching up to run your hands over his chest and shoulders.

He caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You melted into his kiss, your body arching up to meet his as he pressed you into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. You tugged at his grip on your wrists, desperate to touch him, but he held firm.

"Ah ah," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not done admiring my gift yet."

His free hand skimmed down your side, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you.

"James, please," you gasped, breaking away from the kiss.

He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent shivers down your spine. "So impatient," he tsked, nipping at your lower lip. "But I suppose I have kept you waiting all week, haven't I?"

In one fluid motion, he released your wrists and moved down your body. His lips and tongue traced a burning path along your skin, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before continuing lower.

With deft movements, he removed the rest of your lingerie, his eyes dark with hunger as he drank in the sight of you. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Bucky chuckled, gently moving your hands aside to finish undressing himself.

Finally skin to skin, you both sighed at the contact. Bucky's weight settled over you, comforting and electrifying all at once. His lips found yours again as he entered you slowly, savoring every inch. You gasped against his mouth, your body arching to take him deeper.

"God, I've missed you," Bucky growled, his forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Show me," you breathed, nails raking down his back.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Bucky began to move, setting a rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there as his hips drove into yours.

You lost yourself in the sensations - the slide of his skin against yours, the delicious friction where your bodies joined, the heat of his breath on your neck. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the flex and ripple of his muscles as he moved above you.

"James," you moaned, feeling the familiar tension building low in your belly. "I'm close."

Bucky slowed his movements, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm not done with you."

With a low growl, he suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping at the loss. Before you could protest, his strong hands grasped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach.

His palms glided down your sides, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at his touch, anticipation building as he gently urged your hips upward.

"On your knees for me, beautiful," he commanded softly, his palms smoothing over the swell of your backside.

You complied eagerly, pushing yourself up onto all fours. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Bucky's hands continued their journey, kneading the flesh of your thighs and hips with intent appreciation.

You felt the bed shift as he positioned himself behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging your head back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke.

"You're a vision like this," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, pressing back against him, desperate for more contact. Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body. Slowly, torturously, he dragged the tip of his length along your folds, teasing your clit with the blunt head of his cock.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers curling into the sheets. "James, please," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "So eager for me," he murmured, positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you breathed, looking back over your shoulder to meet his intense gaze. "I want you, James. Please."

With a low growl, he pushed into you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You both moaned at the sensation, savoring the feeling of being joined once again. Bucky stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as he struggled to maintain control.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. "So tight, so wet, so warm and perfect for me."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each thrust. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor you as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Look,” he said, and turned your head to take in the sight of you two in the mirror.

You locked your eyes on his through the reflection. “Need you to see how gorgeous you are when you come apart for me.”

You keened for him as he pulled you back on his cock with a particularly demanding thrust.

“When I breed you.”

You gasped.

He groaned and curled his body down over your back.

Because you also clenched powerfully around his cock.

“Mmm, you like that,” he murmured right into your ear, then licked the shell of it. “Want to be bred,” he continued, pace unyielding as he split you open with his cock. “Not as much as I want to fill you up with my seed,” another thrust, “until you’re growing with my child,” another thrust, “no question who you belong to,” thrust, “that you’re claimed,” thrust, “that you’re mine.”

You were utterly breathless for a moment, and he registered that, too, just as he registers every movement, every reaction.

He continued to thrust slowly in and out of your leaking cunt, but he noticed you were no longer fluid and pliant, but that you had tensed up. He stopped. “What’s going on in your beautiful head?”

You bit your lip, and your head dropped down, turning away from his direct gaze in the mirror.

He pulled out and laid on his side next to you.

“Talk to me,” he said, and you weren’t sure if this tone was commanding or pleading, but it was certainly serious.

You sat up, folded your hands in your lap and took a deep breath. As steadily as you could, you said, “You knew my measurements and had sent a perfect wardrobe of intimates to me withing twenty-four hours of our first encounter.”

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corner.

“So, I assume you also know I have an IUD, and that you that knew before you fucked me in the kitchen that first night at the restaurant.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m nowhere near ready to think about children.”

He leaned up on one elbow and reached for your hands, smoothing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “We have as much time to think about that as you want.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes searched his. You could see he wasn’t merely trying to tell you what you wanted to hear - he never had.  

“I look forward to children with you one day, but I’m in no rush. When I imagined settling down with a wife,” he continued, “I didn’t think it would be for another five or six years, but once I found you, there was no question that I wanted you.”

"I want that future with you too, just... not quite yet."

Bucky sat up, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he looked into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Sometimes I get carried away in the moment. You inspire that in me. But I never want you to feel uncomfortable or trapped.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your body relaxing as you processed his words. "I'm sorry," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "I didn't mean to kill the mood."

Bucky shook his head, pulling you closer. "Don't apologize. Communication is important, especially about something like this." His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin.

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and affection for this man who could be so commanding and intense one moment, and so tender and understanding the next. "I love you," you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Bucky responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you too," he murmured. "More than I ever thought possible."

His hands began to roam your body again, easily reigniting the need in both of your for each other.

You broke off the kiss briefly, "Just so we're clearly communicating, breeding kink? Yes. Children yet? No."

"Noted," he laughed, and returned to devouring your lips.

Bucky shifted his position from sitting to kneeling, settling back on his heels, then with one fluid motion he turned you and pulled you into his lap with your thighs falling on either side of his into a wide, kneeling position. He lifted your hips, then lined up his cock with your entrance, and brought you down again on his length. He guided your hips until you were impaled all the way down. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a low moan from your lips.

He banded his left arm around your torso, and his right hand smoothed up your sternum, between your breasts, coming to rest in a secure hold on your shoulder. You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of him inside you, behind you, right at your back, every inch of your bodies pressed together. Your left hand traced over his forearm, then tangled with his fingers around your waist, your other hand moving back to anchor yourself on his hip. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, then began thrusting. Each thrust seemed to push a deep moan out of you for him, and you didn’t hold back.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear. "Look at us."

You obeyed, your gaze meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. The sight before you was breathtaking. Bucky sat tall and powerful behind you, his muscular thighs flexed as he supported your weight. Your body was on full display, skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. His thick arm across your stomach, holding you close against his chest.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How perfectly you fit with me?"

You watched in the mirror as one of his hands slowly trailed up your body, cupping your breast and teasing the sensitive peak. Your back arched at his touch, pressing you further onto his cock.

Bucky groaned, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. "That's it," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Feel me inside you."

Entranced by his words and the intoxicating view in the mirror, you began to move. You rolled your hips, grinding down onto him in a slow, sensual rhythm. Bucky's hands guided your movements, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helped you ride him.

You watched in fascination as your bodies moved together, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath Bucky's skin and the way your own body responded to his touch. The sight of him disappearing inside you with each downward motion was almost too much to bear.

"James," you gasped, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the pleasure built. "Oh god, James..."

“No,” he growled, and his hand went up to your neck, taking you by the throat, not aggressive, but commanding, making it clear that he wanted you to keep looking in the mirror. “I won’t let you fucking miss this.”

It occurred to you then that this handsome, audacious bastard, the fiancé who you’d given your heart to, knew exactly what he wanted when he sent you this mirror and had it placed in the exact spot in front of you now.

He wanted this.

He wanted to see this and have you see this. The debauchery and the devotion while the two of you were intimate together.

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze pushing you even closer to the brink. You watched as his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. The dual stimulation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your most sensitive area becoming more frantic. Bucky's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you into a faster pace.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice low and husky in your ear. "Let go for me. I want to see you come undone."

His words, combined with the intense sensations and the erotic sight in the mirror, and touch pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky held you tightly against him, his hips still moving as he worked you through your orgasm.

"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. "So fucking beautiful."

As the aftershocks subsided, Bucky gently turned you in his lap so you were facing him. His hands cupped your face, drawing you in for a deep, passionate kiss. You could feel him still hard inside you, and you rocked your hips, drawing a groan from his lips.

"Your turn," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

With a growl, Bucky flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle as he began to thrust into you with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the deeper penetration, your hands clutching at his back as he sunk into you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, heavy breaths, and the slap of skin on skin.

You reached up, pulling him down for a passionate kiss while he worked up to a relentless pace. He drove into you with powerful thrusts, each one pushing the air from your lungs. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper as you felt another orgasm building.

"James," you panted, your nails raking down his back, "I'm so close again."

He growled, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. "My good girl, I’ll always give you what you need."

His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your oversensitive clit. The added stimulation was almost too much, pushing you right to the edge. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Bucky's rhythm faltered as your walls clenched around him. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his body shuddering as he found his own release. You felt the warmth of his seed spilling inside you, prolonging your own pleasure.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Bucky's weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as you floated in post-orgasmic bliss. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, murmuring words of love and praise against your skin.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returned to normal. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and feeling utterly content.

"I love you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

Bucky's hand stroked up and down your back, his touch soothing and gentle. "I love you too," he replied, his voice deep and warm. "More than I thought possible."

You hummed in agreement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The room was quiet save for the sound of your breathing and the faint flicker of the candles.

After a few moments, Bucky spoke again, his voice soft. "I meant what I said earlier. About children, about our future. We have all the time in the world."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "I know," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Thank you for understanding."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Always. We're partners in this, in everything."

You lay in comfortable silence again for a while, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence. Bucky's fingers idly traced patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"I missed this," you said softly, breaking the silence. "Having you here, holding me." Everything with him was still relatively so new, but it felt like this was exactly how it always should be.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his arms around you. "Me too. Those nights in Chicago felt endless without you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, you're home now. And you brought me another present, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you noticed that golden box I brought in with me, did you?”

“Yes, can I have it, please?” you asked sweetly, your curiosity thrumming more with each second now that you had remembered it.

He chuckled at your eagerness, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself from your embrace. "Alright, love. Your wish is my command."

You watched appreciatively as he padded across the room, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. He retrieved the golden box from the dresser and returned to the bed, settling beside you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly, and you complied, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

You heard the rustle of paper and the soft click of a box opening. A moment later, an intoxicating aroma filled the air - rich, complex, with notes of cocoa, vanilla, and something tantalizingly exotic.

"Open," Bucky murmured.

Parting your lips, you allowed him to place a morsel of chocolate in your mouth.

The chocolate melted slowly on your tongue, releasing layers of flavor that made you moan softly in delight. Rich, dark cocoa mingled with hints of caramel and a subtle spiciness that lingered pleasantly. As the last of it dissolved, you opened your eyes to find Bucky watching you intently, his gaze dark with renewed desire.

"Good?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, licking your lips. "Incredible. What is it?"

He smiled, holding up an elegantly crafted golden box. "Amedei Porcelana. Some of the rarest and most expensive chocolate in the world. I had it flown in from Tuscany."

Your eyes widened. "James, that must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What's the point of having money if I can't spoil my beautiful fiancée?" His fingers traced along your jawline. "Besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every penny."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze. Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. The lingering taste of chocolate on your tongue mingled with his unique flavor, creating an intoxicating blend. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. "I think I might enjoy that chocolate even more when I taste it on your lips," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, reaching for the box. "Well, we have plenty more to sample. Maybe we should conduct a thorough taste test?"

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I like the way you think, chef."

He took the box from your hands, selecting another piece of chocolate. This time, instead of feeding it to you, he placed it between his teeth, raising an eyebrow in challenge. You leaned in, capturing the other half of the chocolate with your lips, your mouths meeting in a sweet, decadent kiss.

As the night wore on, you continued your playful exploration, alternating between savoring the exquisite chocolate and indulging in each other. Bucky trailed pieces along your skin, following the path with his lips and tongue. You reciprocated, drawing patterns on his sculpted chest and abs with melted chocolate before licking it clean.

The room filled with soft sighs, quiet laughter, and murmured words of affection as you rediscovered each other's bodies. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over your intertwined forms, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to exist outside of time.

As dawn approached, you lay tangled together, satiated and drowsy. Bucky's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"I could get used to welcomes like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. "Maybe I should send you away more often if this is how you come back to me."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don't you dare. I much prefer having you by my side every day."

You smiled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Me too," you admitted softly. "Though I have to say, absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"And apparently inspires some very creative shopping," he teased, his hand skimming down your side to rest on your hip.

You laughed, a warm, carefree sound that filled the room. "Well, I had to make sure you'd remember me while you were away."

"Impossible," Bucky murmured, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light but ardent. "You're etched into every part of me now, love."

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. Even after hours of intimacy, he still had the power to make your heart race with just a look. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of your shared feelings.

As you parted, you noticed the first rays of dawn peeking in through the curtains of your window. You settled your head against his shoulder, and only just registered the press of his lips in a kiss to your forehead before you dropped off to sleep in his arms in the morning light, thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly in love with this man.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest Read more in the DEVOUR collection...

Some of this was content I cut from the final chapter of the original 4-parts of the series (heat) that once I got to the end of that chapter felt like it didn't fit anymore, but it was stuff I couldn't throw away, so I just kept it, knowing it would have a place at some point in their story later, so I'm glad I finally got to share it with you!

[daceydeath]

Her Knight

Pairing: Knight San x Princess Reader Word Count: 6.3k Genre: Fantasy AU, Romance, Smut Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Mentions of Alcohol, Explicit Activities

Another ball to attend another prince to meet but your Knight in shining armor is always there to save you.

Another god forsaken ball, with more god forsaken suitors that were either inbred or as exciting as drapery but your father insisted that you find a suitable match before your next name day celebration so that you would have time to plan an appropriate wedding for that of a future queen. Your only semblance of comfort was that this would be the last ball of the season and if no match was found you would be free for at least the winter months before the next ball season began so that you could spend another season mustering the courage to tell your father that you didn't want to marry a prince your heart belonged to someone else. Marriage to a man you barely knew was the last thing you wanted you had barely even seen your twentieth winter and you still had so much you wanted to do before your freedom was taken from you by an man, who would most likely spend his time demanding you remain demure and dull so that he could live out his fantasy of being a king to a mighty kingdom, regardless of the fact it would be your queendom not his. So you once again were being strapped into a corset so tight you would only be able to drink and not eat and a gown so heavy it would surely leave bruises on your hips from the weight.

Standing before the ornate mirror in your chambers your ladies in waiting scampered around collecting under skirts, ribbons, jewels and shoes to make the dressing process easier for you but all it ended up doing was giving you a headache as they argued whether the diamonds, pearls, gold looked better with your attire. As the princess royal you were expected to be dressed to a level of opulence that few could match dresses of the finest silks and velvets, covered in jewels and gold threads were common place for you and so the aristocrats and minor royals followed your lead having clothes tailored in whatever shades you wore.  Normally you stuck to a pastel gowns that were covered in lightweight sheer layers that, while looking beautiful, allowed you to move a little more freely, tonight you had picked a black gown that was heavily embellished with gold, your corset whilst covered in not just gold but also pearls and small semi precious stones. It was excessive in every way and that was exactly what you wanted, two younger sons of the neighboring kingdom were set to be in attendance and you wanted very much to drive them away with your wasteful appearance so they would see being matched to you more of a burden than an asset.

"your highness?" Your handmaid interrupted your daydreaming to help you begin dressing "If you would be so kind as to hold the bed frame we can begin your lacings" she smiled meekly, being careful to speak respectfully.

"Of course Bessy" you smiled not caring if your ladies in waiting were listening, your handmaids were your friends and you wouldn't treat them poorly just because of their station in life. Moving to grasp the wood tightly Bessy and her assistance Clara pulled each lace viciously, knocking the air from your lungs each time until finally Bessy placed her knee against your back for one last tug to ensure you were properly cinched in, leaving you breathing as heavily as you could.

Your ladies in waiting sat you down to begin fussing with your hair and makeup, you could always style yourself but you found it easier to just sit and be preened within an inch of your life.

"Princess, I must tell you what I heard about Prince Heeseung!" Lady Lisbeth whispered excitedly pinning your hair up into an elegant updo "I heard he has rejected three other kingdoms invites to meet you tonight and that he has high hopes of securing your hand over his brother".  

"I heard that his brother Prince Sunghoon has already found a paramour but is keeping her hidden so he is only playing the part of the competitive brother" Lady Hari interjected quickly before lowering her voice so that only you could hear her as she powdered your skin "But that would give you freedom if you allowed him to bring her with him".

"I wouldn't count on a match being made tonight though" Lady Sana smiled at you in the mirror giving you a sly wink "The knights of the realm have returned from your fathers conquest today so tonight will probably turn rowdy quite quickly with war stories and drunken antics".

"Anything to get me a few more months you couldn't help but mumble as Lady Sana moved to latch the Queen's Jewel around your throat, a large oval solitaire diamond that showed your rank and lineage, it hung heavily just below you collarbones shining brilliantly in the flickering light.

"Did they all return?" you asked almost indifferently hoping to look more concerned with their wellbeing for the kingdom's sake and not your own.

"Not all returned princess, but most have arrived back safely and triumphantly" Lady Hari answered, looking at you pleased with your appearance.

"Father must be very pleased then, I will make sure to congratulate both father and his loyal knights during the festivities then" you smiled with faux enthusiasm knowing that at least while congratulating the returned knights you would be free from your suitors advances, provided they were interested.

You bid you ladies farewell for the time being and waited until it was just you and your maids remaining within hearing range making sure your quarters were completely empty.

"Bessy how many did we lose?" you inquired trying to keep your voice even despite how nervous you were "and do you know who made it back safely?".

"Only two fell and five more were injured but made it back" Bessy smiled leaning in closer to you just to be safe from any prying ears "your favorite knights are all well though Ser San is expected to be rewarded for his bravery in rescuing Ser Yunho and Ser Mingi from enemy forces".

"Excellent, that's excellent" you breathed a sigh of relief "I have not got many friends Bessy, just you and the few maids that are purely my own and the knights who have to guard me. I don't want to lose any of you".

"You won't lose us your highness we will be with you until you decide otherwise" Bessy grinned, her and Clara, preparing your gown to finally be placed over all of your underskirts to complete your outfit and prepare you to go to the ballroom to greet your fathers guests.

Taking a final sip of wine you brushed the velvet of your skirt down one last time before opening the door to your quarters to find the guard who would take you to the ballroom. You prepared yourself for another night of dodging advances and hopefully leaving bad impressions on men who would marry you for a power play.  Sansa and Hari stood at the top of the grand staircase waiting for you to make your entry. The minstrels were quietened and the beginning of your title announced  before you stepped into view of the crowd of onlooking guests.

"May we present the Princess Royal, First of her Family and Heir to the Crown of Eastwood" he called loudly into the cavernous room as you felt all eyes fall on you and your attire. When you made the first landing the minstrels began to play and the buzz of the guests continuing their conversations filled the room once more leaving you free to make your way to your father and hopefully to begin the round of slow congratulations of his returned knights, who all looked resplendently dashing in their black and red military uniforms.

"My sweetest daughter" your father called to you clapping his hands loudly as you made your way through the crowd.

"Your only daughter father" you teased back grinning as he stretched his arms out to take your hands.

"You look particularly beautiful tonight my child" he smiled toothily before pulling you gently towards him to kiss your cheek.

"I heard your brave knights have returned, father and triumphantly at that" you beamed "you must be so pleased with their success I must congratulate them for honoring you".

"They did, and you should, they will be your knights one day and you should treat them with the respect their loyalty deserves." he nodded seriously as you tried your hardest to appear that you were focusing on his words with absolute concentration "You will make a fine ruler one day child, but first you must meet the Princes from Northwilds they have traveled far to attend this evening". You dutifully smiled and nodded letting your father escort you towards a group of men in deep blue and gold ensembles which you assumed to be military style uniforms from the Nothwilds kingdom. All ten of them bowed deeply when they noticed your father's and your presence.

"King Arin, we thank you for this generous invitation Eastwood is a most beautiful kingdom" A tall rather handsome man stepped forward taking your father's hand and bowing again to place his forehead against your father's ring which contained the royal seal.

"Prince Heeseung, I am most delighted you could make the trip, I realize that Northwilds is quite a journey from us. This is my daughter the Princess Royal" he introduced you, letting you curtsy despite you being of higher rank than either of the princes.

"We are most blessed to make your acquaintance" Prince Heeseung bowed, stretching out his hand to take yours and kiss the back of it softly. "This is my brother Prince Sunghoon" he gestured behind himself for his brother to step forward and greet your father and then yourself, also pressing a kiss to the back of your hand although so featherlight you almost didn't feel it.

"The pleasure is mine Prince Heeseung, Prince Sunghoon" you smiled demurely trying to remain as neutral as possible so you didn't garner too much interest from them.

"I will leave you to mingle, child, but you should remember to thank the knights before the evening is over" your father winked no doubt, noticing your not particularly keen interaction with the brothers.

"Of course father, I won't neglect my duties to the kingdom" you bowed your head as he stepped away no doubt looking for a drink. Sana made her way to your side instantly replacing your fathers place at your side, taking your hand she squeezed it once to let you know it was he as you continued to smile at the princes.

"Princess, you look exquisite tonight" Heeseung complimented softly as his brother stepped back to engage back into the conversation he was having with his entourage.

"You look quite dashing yourself Prince Heeseung" you smiled tightly not enjoying the awkwardness of first meetings "Tell me what is the Northwilds like? I have yet to travel that far yet, father doesn't let me travel too far from the kingdom" you explained hoping that he would bring up anything about his kingdom that you could find interesting and prompt some sort of discourse.

"I have heard it can snow there for months at a time, is that true?" Sana asked, hoping to help further the conversation.

"Please call me Heeseung, I am of lesser rank than you Princess" he smiled hopefully at you "Northwilds can be bitterly cold in winter. It is true it snows nearly all of winter but it is quite pleasant in the summer and early autumn. We have quite a few lakes and forests which makes for pleasant day trips"  he continued.

"Oh I do like spending time near the water" Sana gushed beaming at him "Don't you your Highness?".

"Yes I do enjoy picnics by the waterfront and also horseback riding. Do you have good horses in Northwilds? I imagine they would be hardy creatures" you answered politely, noticing that Heeseung's eyes were firmly locked on Sana as she batted her eyelashes and giggled softly.

"Our horses are the most sturdy of all the kingdoms" Heeseung nodded, obviously enjoying the attention Sana was giving him.

"I should attend the greeting of our returned knights, Lady Sana, would you keep Prince Heeseung entertained until I return? and ensure both he and his brother are comfortable" you touched her shoulder gently in a gesture of thanks.

"Of course Princess, it would be my greatest honor" she gushed enthusiastically letting you make your exit without any protest from either of the princes.

Wandering towards the outer edge of the room you were sure you would find at least one knight trying to avoid an over eager dowager who wanted to thank him more than was warranted or wanted. Sure enough you found Ser Seonghwa desperately looking for a pillar to hide behind as an aristocrat made her way across the crowd towards him.

"Ser Seonghwa" You called, stepping into his line of vision and watching him visibly relax knowing you would give him an excuse to not speak to the older woman, who now looked quite put out that you had stolen the object of her desire.  

"Princess Royal" he greeted bowing deeply to you.

"I had heard you had returned today and victorious" you grinned "I was hoping I could thank you all for honoring my father so valiantly".

"It is our honor honestly Princess" he smiled again, his handsome face lighting up "May I escort you to some of the other knights, your highness?"

"Yes please Ser Seonghwa, I would love to thank you all personally for your efforts" you continued taking his arm and allowing him to guide you towards the back of the ballroom where the large windows and open gilt doors spilt light out into the gardens. "I also thought I might be able to save you for a little while, Seonghwa" you whispered once you got closer to your destination.

"I cannot thank you enough," Seonghwa grinned. "It will help boost the others that you would wish to spend some time with us lowly knights rather than the Princes from Northwilds".

"Believe me you lot are much preferred company" you smirked as he led you onto the lit terrace, large glass containers filled with candles surrounding the entire area to keep it as well lit as possible despite it not being twilight yet.

"Look who I found in my travels" Seonghwa called to a cluster of men dressed in identical uniforms, they didn't even need to turn around for you to know exactly who each of them was having spent enough time milling around the training grounds in hoping one of them would take pity on you and give you some sword fighting lessons or teach you archery, which they eventually did. You had become friends over those years and you began to treat each other as equals rather than what your ranks demanded, even if it had to occur mainly in secret.

"If it's another kitchen girl I would say don't bother, you always strike out with the kitchen staff" Ser Hongjoong yelled cheekily before his eyes landed on you walking at Seonghwa's side. "Princess Royal, what are you doing out here?" they all instantly stood at attention facing you.

"At ease I'm alone" you laughed watching them all relax again "I wanted to see how you were I didn't know you were back until a few hours ago".

"We're mostly intact" Hongjoong admitted softly as you let go of your hold on Seonghwa's arm to touch Hongjoong's shoulder affectionately.

"What does mostly intact mean? I wanted you to come back whole" you pouted taking in each of their appearances "Yunho, Mingi you're hurt" you couldn’t help the way your voice raised an octave as you moved to look at them closer your large black gown swishing against all of their legs as you passed them. Your hands fluttering uselessly over Yunho's bandaged hand and arm which bulged under his dress coat and Mingi with obvious bruising to his face.

"War doesn't leave you intact Princess" Jongho sighed, his eyes meeting yours sadly.

"Sana told me that some of you fell. Who? Who did we lose?" you asked carefully knowing that such a tight knit group would be sensitive to the loss of a friend and comrade.

"Changbin and Seungmin are gone, Felix and Minho are pretty badly injured. Chan and a few of the others are staying with them around the clock in case the worse happens they can send for help faster" Wooyoung grimaced.

"Fuck" you breathed shakily lamenting the loss of good men “I’m so sorry”.

"Did you just say fuck?" Seonghwa blinked, unsure if he had heard you correctly.

"Yes? I swear all the time when you teach me how to fight, have you only just noticed?" you enquired confused.

"You say crap, quim womble and bollocks, once I heard you say shit but never fuck" Hongjoong roared laughing while Yeosang, San and Mingi all smirked.

"Well now you have heard me say fuck congratulations" you rolled your eyes quickly looking around San's broad shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear your profanity.

"It's just soldiers out here Princess" San smiled warmly looking down at you, you almost lost yourself in them but remembered yourself and decided to look at his dimple instead.

"Can't be too careful, I saved Seonghwa from a dowager but right now you are saving me from Prince Heeseung" you joked, nudging his chest with your shoulder.

“There is no way we can hide you though not in that dress at least" Mingi teased looking you up and down exaggeratedly.

"It is true you outshine every other woman here" Jongho whistled "must be looking to impress a prince tonight".

"More like hoping to horrify one" you smirked, poking your tongue out at him "I hope they will see me as frivolous and vapid so they don't want to stay". You were happy to admit your plan to them you knew they would never tell a soul.

“Why don’t you just tell your father you don’t want to marry?” Yunho shook his head clearly amused with your plan.

“Because unlike you Yunho I don’t get a lot of say in when I get married, father has decided it will be in the summer so I have that long to convince him to let me marry someone I actually like or he will pick for me”. You sighed trying to keep the sadness off of your face “I don’t really want to get stuck with some horrible man who just wants my throne”.

“Why haven’t you picked any of the others who have come then? Some of them were really quite nice or were they just not quite like the tales of knights who slay dragons from your silly books?” Wooyoung pressed as your cheeks began to flush pink at the implication of his question.

“You are never going to understand Wooyoung” you rolled your eyes before quickly putting more space between yourself and them as the sounds of Sana’s voice floated across the terrace. “Again brave knights I cannot express my gratitude for honoring my father” you smiled politely with your best formal voice back in place as they all tried not to snicker at your obvious change in demeanor.

“Princess Royal” Heeseung’s voice rang out loudly “I did wonder where you had gotten to, were you stolen away by these brutes?” he raised his eyebrow challengingly towards your friends and saviors.

“Of course not Prince Heeseung, these knights are my father’s best. They have just returned from their campaign. It is part of my duties to congratulate the brave men who honor my kingdom” your replied almost coldly, your eyes narrowing slightly at him.

“Still it is not proper that you be alone with men so far below your station” he continued, not really bothering to listen to your words making you frown.

“Your Highness, the prince may have had a little too much of your father’s favorite vintage” Sana stressed quickly, making you step back a fraction more from him “I thought some fresh air might help with that”.

“Perhaps it would” you smiled tightly, watching Sana carefully in case she needed help ridding herself from him “Where is prince Sunghoon?”.

“He has retired for the night, your Highness” Sana answered quickly, her voice quivering slightly.

“I see, I will accompany you then” you announced, making Prince Heesung grin at his perceived victory. “Ser San, Ser Jongho, would you join us please? There may be all sorts of wild beasts in the gardens at this time of night” you looked at them pleadingly.

“Of course your Royal Highness” San answered smoothly, bowing deeply as Jongho copied his actions, nodding.

“Thank you Sers I will feel much safer with you with us” you beamed noticing the twinkle of mischief in Jongho’s eyes and the laugh San was trying to hold in.

“I would be with you Princess Royal, you would need no further protection than that” Prince Heeseung started to protest, looking dissatisfied with your choice.

“I know Prince Heeseung but who would protect Lady Sana in the event of an attack surely you would be protecting me in that circumstance and Lady Sana is my closest confidant I would want her to be safe so why not bring a few more swords along” you explained flashing your best doe eyes at him.

“Of course you have thought this through far better than I have” he bowed in apology before San offered you his arm and Jongho took a torch from one of the wall sconces beside the very edge of he terrace to lead the way.

“Thank you Ser San” you graciously accepted, allowing him to lead you towards the cobblestone pathway that lay on the edge of the hedge maze. Prince Heeseung glowered as San but said nothing further as he fell into step behind you but you couldn’t help the silent giggle that passed your lips imagining him glaring at the wide expanse of San’s back as you walked. In the dimness that surrounded you now that dusk had properly fallen and the sun had long dropped behind the horizon you felt San’s fingers stroke small patterns into the back of your hand making butterflies dance in your belly. Prince Heeseung was muttering something to Sana that you couldn’t make out but when you turned your head to attempt to hear them better San squeezed your hand and met your eyes his endlessly deep brown eyes gesturing to Jongho in front of you before returning to your face as though he was studying you.

“Princess Royal” Jongho’s voice called back to you “Do you wish us to play another round of first to the middle? I know that it is one of your ladies in waiting’s favorite games to play when you have the time and it would be a good way to show Prince Heeseung the hedge maze” he asked in faux innocence making Sana agree enthusiastically and you nod.

“Oh yes please Ser Jongho, Sana and I both adore that game. Would you like to play Prince Heeseung? It is a very simple game but such fun” you turned to look at him excitedly “We all take turns entering the maze and the one that reaches the middle first wins a prize of their choosing”.

“Any prize they choose?” Heeseung asked with a sly smile on his face.

“Well obviously not anything I wouldn’t give you the kingdom or anything silly like that it is usually a token for example a piece of jewelry, a favor from me, a special dessert from the kitchens that sort of thing” you rationalized hoping that he would agree to play so that you could help Sana escape him for a little while.

“I would enjoy that,” he answered simply, looking between Sana and you. 

“The Princess Royal shall go first, then it will be your turn and then mine” Sana volunteered, hoping that as long as she took a different start path to him it would be fine.

“Shall we start? Ser San, would you stay here and guard the entrance while we play?” you enquired watching San nod in silent agreement before you picked up your skirts slightly so they didn’t catch on the branches and made your way into the maze, you took the first right then second left which you knew led to a dead end then you waited quietly it didn’t take long before your heard heavy footsteps that passed by on the other side of the thick green wall that led deeper into the maze. You waited for a few moments prepared to count to twenty before you attempted to make your way back to the entrance hoping that San would be waiting for you when you heard more footsteps.

“Princess?” San whispered quietly rounding the corner to the deadend that you were waiting in “He’s long gone shall we head back?” his breathtaking smile lighting up his whole face.

“Yes,why not?” you stepped towards him “I’m so glad you came home San” you admitted taking his hand in yours “I would have been devastated if you had been lost”.

“It would take more than one campaign to stop me coming home to you Princess” you flushed quickly back tracking his words “I mean to your kingdom Princess, there is no other kingdom I would rather serve”. He met your eyes shyly.

“San…” you breathed, noticing the pretty color that now dusted his cheekbones. You were almost standing so close to him that if someone was to come across you it would have surely looked improper but you didnt care you were far too lost in the depths of his eyes that swam with such emotion that you could not bring yourself to look away.

“Princess, I…” San stumbled his words as he unconsciously pulled you slightly closer to him, your chest almost pressed against his and his hand still grasping yours firmly in the few moments of silence that followed. “Why haven’t you agreed to any of the suitors your father has invited to the kingdom?”.

“I already have someone I wish to be with, but he doesn’t know” you confessed without a shred of fear as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards “He’s someone my father trusts very much and once this ball season has ended I wanted to talk to him about it”. San’s other hand moved to grip your waist making your eyes widen slightly.

“Would the King allow you to be with this man?” he asked quietly, his voice deeper than it had been before making you feel a little light headed.

“I desperately hope so” you swallowed hard his hand letting go of yours leaving it to feel cool without the warmth of his palm enveloping yours, very slowly he moved so that it was now creeping up your arm leaving goosebumps wherever his calloused fingers brushed against you.

“May I?” he murmured his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath fanning across your face, his hand finally stopping to cup your cheek.

“Please San” you mumbled closing your eyes the moment his lips brushed against yours tentatively pausing to allow you to stop him going further which gave you the opportunity to place your hand against his chest to feel his heart beating rapidly within his ribcage. You leaned in a little more, pressing your lips against his fully, finally feeling the warmth of his plush lips against yours, smiling against you he pulled you against his chest slowly sliding his lips against yours until you felt dizzy.

“I need to get you back to the castle my Princess” he breathed against you lips pecking them once more before stepping back from you the smirk on his face showing how pleased he was with your reciprocation of his actions.

“Yes, you should escort me back to my quarters” you agreed blinking a few times to shake the feeling that was lingering in your belly from his use of my princess. “I don’t want to return to the ballroom”.

“Your wish is my command” he teased taking your hand in his and leading you back out of the maze instead of returning the way you came San led you through the darker side of the gardens towards the entrance that the knights often used when they came and went from the castle leading your through empty passageways and hallways until you reached the wing your quarters were in, you entered letting San stop at your door to let the guard know he would be taking over and to go get some rest before he would be following you inside.

You sat at your vanity waiting, removing your jewelry and hair pins before wiping the makeup from your face. You had already slipped off your underskirts which made your dress considerably less dramatic but there was no way you would be able to get out of your corset without your maids help so you just watched your reflection until you heard your door close and the lock click shut.

“San?” you called watching his shadow appear in the room.

“I’m here my Princess” he smiled warmly.

“I…I…I don’t know where to start” you chewed on your lip softly, the trepidation you felt was obvious.

“Is the man you want me Princess?” he asked tenderly his voice sweet like honey making you feel warm as it surrounded you making you nod silently.

“I love you San, I always have” you admitted shyly, your face burning with blush.

“God’s I’ve dreamed you would say that to me one day” he groaned striding to you and pulling you into his arms his lips pressing against yours once more this time not hiding the emotions he felt for you, his tongue traced the seam of your lips encouraging you to let him deepen the kiss which your did his tongue slipping past your lips to slid against your own in a slow sensual dance. You couldn’t help the faint moan that escaped your throat as his hands moved to hold you as close to him as he could. When he finally broke away from you he pressed his forehead against yours as you panted for breath.

“I loved you from the first moment I came to this kingdom and I will love you until my last breath” he declared to you sincerely “If your father allows this I will worship you from this day forth if you let me”. You nodded as tears came to your eyes, you had never imagined that San would ever return your feeling he was a far more worldly man and could have any woman in the kingdom yet he had wanted to be yours just as desperately as you had wanted him. Your lips crashed back into him too lost in the joy of his love to think about anything else, hands buried in his hair to hold him close to you as his arms encircled you, picking you up and pressing you against the wall beside the vanity. Pressing himself fully against you.

You let your hands fall to his shoulders to hold him as he began kissing his way down your neck towards your chest, your corset giving him enough space to get well below your collarbone before finding your lips again his hands had bunched your skirt up around your hips allowing him to press against your core more easily making you wiggle against him and cause him to let a deep groan escape his throat.

“Easy Princess, I might not be able to stop if we go too far” San panted against your neck, mouthing at the junction of your shoulder as you shivered in his arms.

“I want to, please I think I’m on fire” you whined wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

“Shit, my love, if I deflower you the king will kill me” he ground out between his clenched teeth as you rolled your hips experimentally against him.

“He would never harm the father of my child” you whimpered the feeling of his hardness grinding against your cotton covered core giving you the friction you desperately needed.

“Fuck don’t say things like that” growled his hands sliding between you and the wall to tug at your laces while he kissed you again making your need for him grow with each muffled sound that passed between your mouths. He flung the black top of your corsent to the side your under corset undone enough for him to get access to your breasts making you cry out as he took one of your hardened nipples between his kiss swollen lips teasing it and suckling at it until your head tipped back against the wall. Carefully lowering you to the fur rug on the floor he roughly tugged your undergarments away allowing you time to wiggle your corset off without undoing it completely leaving you bare to him.

“So beautiful” he whispered reverently his hand cupping your cheek again before slowly dragging it down your body making your skin erupt in a feeling of fire licking at your skin, he undid his uniform throwing the jacket and undershirt behind him before working on the laces of his pants allowing you to see him in all his glory, you couldn't help your fingers from reaching out and tracing the old scars that crossed his chest the silver skin standing out in the glow of the room his eyes boring into you watching your every expression as you took your time touching him before he slid his fingers from your hip to your center achingly slowly slipping them between your folds making your mouth fall open in surprise.

“San” you gasped, unsure of what he was doing.

“Let me pleasure you my love” he smiled reassuringly, moving to kiss you once more as one of his fingers began circling your bud causing you to begin mewling into his mouth “That’s it my love let me show you how much I love you”.

Subconsciously you spread your thighs apart wider to allow him to touch you more, another of his long fingers pressing against your entrance slightly before entering you, he sunk his digit deeper and deeper making your eyes roll back as you began to rock against his hand. Another finger began stretching your velvet walls, the feeling sending surges of pleasure through you as they massaged your walls.

“Saaan” you moaned the feeling building and building deep inside you like a coil waiting to snap.

“When it feels too good and you cannot hold it in, let go my love” he cooed, kissing your neck as he continued to pump his fingers inside of you.

“Oh San…agh..ngh” you cried out feeling the coil explode and white hot pleasure flood your veins.

“Good girl” San mumbled moving to slot himself between your thighs. “Tell me if this hurts you and I will stop”.

You nodded dazed from the floaty feeling that still filled your brain, only clearing when you felt a much larger stretch beginning as San cautiously entered you inch by inch until you were fully impaled on his cock the feeling almost painful as he stilled to let you adjust to the sensation of being completely full. Kissing you deeply he slowly dragged his cock almost completely out of you before thrusting back in his gentle pace to help you not feel anything but pain.

“Does it hurt my love?” he gasped against your lips, continuing to languidly move his hips.

“No feels good” you moaned quietly, no longer feeling unsure of the feeling of him moving inside you. He hissed in pleasure speeding up the rocking of his hips helping you to wrap one leg around him, each snap of his hips making the coil tighten again making you roll your hips to meet his thrust making him moan loudly and your walls flutter.

“Fuck just like that my love you feel like heaven” he grunted watching your face as your mouth dropped open again and your moans got louder “Good girl, let go when you want to alright, I want to feel you on my cock” he babbled making you start to see white again as fire spread through your veins again and you couldn’t he but scream as your second high hit you.

“San, San, San” you chanted before he rapidly pulled away from you his cock in his hand as he covered your tummy and breasts in thick white ropes of his release.

“Sorry My love let me clean you up" he panted, grabbing his undershirt from the floor and wiping you clean before collapsing beside you “Couldn’t risk letting go inside you at least not until your father lets me marry you”. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you at the idea of him still needing to keep you safe even whilst deflowering you.

"Let me get you into bed so that you don’t catch a cold from being on the stone floor” he smiled bashfully, helping you to get into your bed still nude but at least warmer as he cleaned up the clothes that we strewn around the room and partially dressed himself.

“Are you leaving?” you whimpered panic rising in your throat.

“I will never leave you but I cannot stay here all night, your maids will find me” he smiled climbing onto the bed beside you we can’t have a scandal in the castle.

“Come with me tomorrow when I talk to my father?” you implored cuddling into his side, his fingers softly combing through your hair.

“Of course my love” He whispered kissing your head as your eyes fell closed

A/N: Thank you again for reading my darlings xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[priapus-goldengod]

New Gym, New Life

*This is my first story ever and english is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it!* -Rafi💚

Daniel and Alex had been together for five years, living happily in their cozy apartment in the city. Both in their late twenties, they prided themselves on staying fit and healthy.

When a new gym opened just a few blocks away, they decided to check it out. The gym, named "Sahara Fitness", had a unique and exotic vibe, with its rich gold and deep red color scheme, intricate geometric patterns, and Arabic calligraphy adorning the walls.

As they walked in, they noticed that all the staff and trainers were Arab men; tall, muscular, and radiating confidence and masculinity. They greeted Daniel and Alex with warm smiles, their deep voices resonating through the gym. Despite the clear cultural influence, the place seemed modern and well-equipped.

"Welcome to Sahara Fitness," one of the trainers, Malik, said in a thick accent. "You two look like you already know your way around a gym, but we like to offer something special to our new members. A gift to help you get the most out of your workout."

He handed them each a small, ornate container filled with a dark, powdery supplement. "This is a traditional blend, used for centuries to enhance strength and endurance. Try it out during your workout, and you'll feel the difference."

Daniel and Alex exchanged a glance. They were a bit skeptical but intrigued. They had tried all kinds of supplements before, so they figured it couldn’t hurt to try something new. Thanking Malik, they headed to the locker room to change.

Dressed in their usual gym gear, the couple mixed the supplement into their water bottles and sipped. The taste was strong, almost spicy, with a hint of something they couldn’t quite place. Shrugging it off, they began their workout routine, starting with some light cardio before moving on to weights.

As they started lifting, both noticed an unusual burst of energy coursing through their bodies. The weights felt lighter, their movements smoother. They exchanged a surprised look but continued their sets, pushing themselves harder than usual.

After a while, they noticed something even stranger. Their bodies began to feel different—stronger, more powerful. Alex glanced at his reflection in the mirror and did a double-take. His usually slim frame was starting to bulk up, and his muscles were swelling with each rep. His fair skin seemed to be taking on a slightly tanned hue, and his facial hair usually trimmed and light, was darkening and thickening.

"Dan, are you seeing this?" Alex whispered, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

Daniel, too, was undergoing a transformation. His once smooth face was shadowed with a thickening beard, his jawline sharpening. His normally light hair was darkening to a rich, deep brown, and his skin was also taking on a more olive tone.

They both felt a strange warmth spreading through them, almost like a fire igniting from within. Their minds began to feel fuzzy, thoughts of their usual life together growing distant. Instead, they were filled with an intense, almost primal desire to lift more, grow stronger, and assert their newfound masculinity.

As they continued working out, their transformations became more pronounced. Their bodies grew more muscular, their chests broadening, arms bulging with veins as their biceps swelled. The hair on their bodies thickened, and their once soft features became rugged and masculine. The changes weren't just physical; their minds were altering too.

Daniel, now with a full, dark beard and intense eyes, glanced at a group of women working out nearby. He felt an overwhelming attraction towards them, something he'd never experienced before. The thought of Alex, his partner, seemed oddly foreign, replaced by a burning desire to dominate, to conquer.

Alex, too, felt a shift. His mind, once full of love and tenderness for Daniel, was now clouded with lustful thoughts. But he wasn't thinking about Daniel; it was women with soft curves and alluring smiles. The idea of being with a man seemed almost laughable now.

They both finished their workout, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from their now muscular, tanned bodies. The gym’s atmosphere, once just a backdrop, now felt like home, where they belonged and could be their true selves.

As they headed back to the locker room, they caught sight of themselves in the mirror. Gone were Daniel and Alex, the cute, loving couple who had walked in earlier. In their place stood two Arab alpha males, their bodies sculpted and powerful, exuding raw masculinity. Their eyes were dark and intense, their gazes filled with a new hunger.

Malik appeared behind them, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, I see the supplement has worked well. Welcome, brothers. You are now part of our tribe, our brotherhood. The old you is gone. You are reborn, stronger, and more powerful than ever."

Daniel, now calling himself Daoud, and Alex, now Ali, looked at each other and nodded. They felt no fear, no regret only acceptance and excitement. They had been transformed, not just physically but mentally. The bond they once shared as lovers was replaced with a new bond, brotherhood. And with it came a shared obsession, a desire for women that burned within them like never before.

"Bro, I can't believe how good this feels. I don't even know why we were ever together like that," Ali said, his eyes flickering with a new, primal energy.

Daoud smirked, flexing his arms, feeling the surge of power coursing through his veins. "Yeah, man. What were we thinking? This is what real life is about. We were just... confused before." He looked at the women working out nearby, his gaze filled with hunger. "Now, it's all about the chase, the thrill."

Ali nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligned with Daoud's. "Exactly, bro. Chicks, muscles, and dominating life. That's what we were meant for."

Daoud clapped on Ali's back, their bond now one of brotherhood and shared desires. "Let's go, man. Time to show the world what real men are made of."

They dressed in new clothes provided by the gym. traditional but modern arab-inspired attire that accentuated their muscular frames. As they walked out of the gym, they felt like kings, ready to conquer the world outside. Women turned to look at them, drawn to their confidence and masculinity. And as they exchanged a knowing glance, they knew that their lives had changed forever.

No longer the gentle, loving couple they once were, Daoud and Ali were now straight, Arab studs, obsessed with their newfound masculinity and the thrill of chasing after women.

[edenesth]

Scarlet Requiem

Pairing: emperor!Baekhyun x empress!reader

AU: historical au (Goryeo era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: In his reign, Baekhyun strived to be a virtuous emperor, all for the sake of his kind-hearted empress, steadfastly resisting the temptations of power that had corrupted those before him. He held onto the belief that this was the key to securing her eternal presence by his side. Yet, he learned, to his heartbreak, that this very resolve would lead to the cruellest loss of all.

Genre: heavy angst

Trigger Warnings: major character death, violence, gore, lots of blood

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Capture that demon before she flees!"

Her hands trembled as she gazed at her reflection in the ornate gold mirror. Once healthy skin now bore a sickly pallor, brown eyes turned crimson, tears staining her cheeks red. Even her jet-black hair had transformed to snowy white. Confusion and fear gripped her as she struggled to comprehend the inexplicable transformation.

As guards roughly seized her arms, she pleaded, "No, please! I've done nothing wrong! I don't understand any of this!"

"Of course, you'd deny it, Your Imperial Majesty," sneered the Minister of Rites, one of many who had urged her husband, the emperor, to accept their daughters as concubines. "Little did you know, those potions you received from the royal healer for the past month were meant to reveal your true nature by shedding your human guise."

Horror pierced her heart as realisation dawned. The tonics meant to maintain her health had been a ruse. She had been poisoned, it explained the sudden and alarming changes in her body and health.

"You," she whispered, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon her. "It was all you."

She was not naive; she understood the ministers' discontent with her influence over Baekhyun throughout his reign. Their persistent attempts to sway him, offering their daughters as concubines to bolster their own power and threaten her position, had not escaped her notice. Their frustration must have reached its zenith when her husband adamantly refused their advances, steadfast in his commitment to her as his one and only empress.

"Hm? I'm not sure I understand what you're implying," the man smirked, his deceptive tone belying his words. "We've long suspected there was more to you, Your Imperial Majesty. It appears you're indeed a demon, effortlessly manipulating the emperor. Surely a man of his stature would desire more than one woman by his side?"

Struggling against the guards' grasp, she retorted weakly, "You vile cowards. You'll rue the day my husband learns of this..."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing their sinister plot. They had bided their time, seizing the perfect opportunity amidst the chaos of war. With Baekhyun, the virtuous emperor she had wished him to be, leading the army, they saw their chance to poison her, framing her as a demon to eradicate her while he was away.

"Or perhaps we'll witness the rise of the ambitious emperor we've long awaited. He will finally be able to reach his full potential without you here obstructing his path," he sneered, gesturing towards the approaching healer with another bowl of poison. "Just comply and drink your tonic, Your Imperial Majesty. Your suffering will soon end, and our nation will thrive under the rule of a new emperor, liberated from your naive ideals."

As the sinister men tightened their grip, she sobbed in agony, the relentless headache from the past month resurfacing with a vengeance. Each touch felt like a dagger through her skull, each word a cruel reminder of her plight.

With an apologetic bow of his head, the healer cupped her jaw, his hands trembling as he forced the bowl of poison towards her lips. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "This will be the last one, I promise."

She gagged as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning with each swallow. Crimson tears streamed down her white face as she choked on the vile concoction, feeling her strength wane with each passing moment. In that desperate moment, all she could do was pray for salvation from the nightmare consuming her.

As the healer finally released his hold, she felt despair engulf her. The bitter poison settled within her damaged insides, coursing through her veins like a silent killer, slowly consuming her from within.

"It is done, my lord. The empress will not survive through the night," the healer declared, his voice carrying a finality that chilled her to the bone.

The minister's grin widened with satisfaction. "Excellent. Arrange for someone to confirm her death by dawn. Let her enjoy her final moments in the comforts of her own chambers. His Imperial Majesty will surely be grateful we've rid him of his treacherous demon of a wife upon his return from war."

Laying limply in the centre of her grand chambers, the very space she had once despised before ascending to empress, memories flooded her mind. She recalled the scepticism that clouded her heart when she first found herself falling for the crown prince of the nation. After all, history had taught her that no happy endings awaited the women who loved emperors. But Baekhyun was different—he was loving, caring, and considerate, going to great lengths to prove his devotion to her.

He swore never to take concubines, to resist the allure of power, and to remain hers, and hers alone. Despite the admiration of the entire nation, he remained committed to prioritising her above all else, even if it meant drawing the ire of his ministers and officials. Their accusations of his partiality towards his empress over his nation only served to strengthen his resolve, his unwavering loyalty to her.

But now, as she lay weakened by poison, she realised the tragic irony of his goodness. It was his very commitment to righteousness that led him to the battlefield, refusing to let his men fight in his stead. And it was this decision that ultimately sealed their fate, leaving her to face the consequences of his noble intentions.

As the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't help but wonder how Baekhyun would react upon returning to find her lifeless form in this state. Would he succumb to the poisonous words of his ministers, believing their accusations that she had been a demon all along? Would he entertain the notion that she had bewitched him, clouding his judgement and leading him astray?

Or would he remain firm in his loyalty, unwavering in his belief that this was nothing more than a cruel ploy to rid him of her for good? In the depths of her fading consciousness, she desperately clung to the hope that he would see through the lies, that his love for her would prevail over doubt.

On the brink of death, she yearned to trust in his endless devotion to her, to believe that he would never doubt the love they shared. It was a fragile hope, but in that moment, it was all she had to cling to as she slipped further into the darkness, awaiting the inevitable arrival of dawn and the fate it would eventually bring.

"Forgive me for not being strong enough, Baek," she whispered into the stillness of the chamber, her voice barely a breath against the heavy silence. "Please don't blame yourself for any of this."

As the darkness threatened to swallow her entirely, she couldn't help but reflect on the warnings of history, the cautionary tales of women who loved emperors, only to meet tragic ends. Once again, it seemed, she had fallen victim to the same fate.

Her vision blurred with crimson tears as memories flooded her mind—moments shared with Baekhyun before he departed for battle, blissfully unaware that they would be their last. Each memory stung with bittersweet intensity, a painful reminder of what could have been, had fate been kinder.

As her life ebbed away, flashes of cherished moments with him flickered through her mind like scattered stars in the night sky.

Wrapped in the warmth of silk sheets, doubts clouded her mind one morning, questioning her husband's resolve to remain faithful amidst the pressures of his position.

"Would you truly refuse to take any concubines, Baek?" she inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty. "You're aware that the ministers and officials desire it, and perhaps even the citizens of our nation. For all we know, the people might have grown weary of this same dull empress who has yet to bear you an heir."

He drew her close, pulling the silk sheets higher to shield her bare form from the chill seeping through the open windows. Pressing a tender kiss upon her head, he smiled reassuringly. "Never, my love. I do not care for their political machinations. I won't forsake my vow to you. You will remain my only wife, that is final. I did not ask to be emperor, the role was thrust upon me. Now that I am here, they should at least be grateful I am fulfilling my general duties."

She chuckled, nestling into the crook of his neck as he added, "Besides, if the ministers and officials are so displeased, they could just dismiss me. That would be even better; we could live in a quiet little village, just as we've always dreamed."

In another memory, standing before her reflection, plagued by insecurities instilled by the scheming ministers, his unwavering admiration melted her fears away.

"You look beautiful, my empress. You always do," he reassured, approaching from behind to envelop her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as those young maidens, I fear. I am old," she confessed, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness after witnessing the ministers' attempts to seduce the emperor with their daughters.

Baekhyun gently turned her to face him. "If you're old, then I must be ancient," he teased. "I believe it's only fitting that I am with someone my age, and that's you, my empress. I have no interest in marrying children or anyone else for that matter; I am a taken man. Don't you dare compare yourself to anyone else again, you hear me? You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes, and that's all that matters."

In the final embrace before he departed for war, hearts heavy with the uncertainty of his return, they clung to each other.

"I will be back before you know it, my love. You'll wait for me, won't you?" her husband murmured against her neck, his arms tightening around her.

"Where else would I go, you idiot? Of course, I'll be waiting right here," she retorted, tightening her hold around his shoulders.

Amidst tears and laughter, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, pressing his lips against her soft ones over and over again to imprint the sensation into memory.

"I love you, my empress," Baekhyun whispered against her lips before pulling away, his eyes full of love and determination.

In the quiet of her chamber, she found solace in the fleeting recollections, clinging to them as the darkness threatened to consume her entirely. And as the crimson tears clouded her eyes once more, she resigned herself to the inevitable, silently bidding farewell to the life she once knew.

"I love you too, my emperor."

"I will not ask again, where is she?!" the emperor's voice thundered through the throne room as he stormed back into the palace, abandoning the battle upon learning the shocking revelation. According to the Minister of Rites in his letter, the empress had been discovered to be a demon all along, concealing her true nature under human skin to manipulate him and bend him to her will.

The eunuch panicked and fell to his knees. "Th-the empress is confined to her grand chambers, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Without uttering another word, Baekhyun stormed over immediately, his heart thumping loudly against his chest as fury overtook his being. Betrayal flooded his veins; he was seething with anger.

"You will regret lying to me," he growled under his breath, his vision zeroing in on the path towards her chambers, the place he frequented more than his own. "You will regret deceiving me."

Upon reaching the entrance of her chambers, he turned to the eunuch. "Gather all the ministers and officials who played a part in discovering the empress as what they claimed her to be in the throne room. I wish to speak with them soon."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the eunuch hurriedly replied before darting off to carry out his orders. Baekhyun steadied his breaths, his hand resting on the door as he prepared to face her once more. Under his breath, he vowed, "I swear, you will all regret it. How dare you accuse my wife of being what you are—demons."

I'm here now, my love.

Stepping into the familiar room, the emperor's heart raced with anxiety as he mulled over a perfect apology. He needed to express his deep remorse for not being there when she needed him the most, for failing to shield her from the treachery of those vultures. Reflecting on his actions, he realised he should have never left her behind. In his rush to leave for war, he had neglected to arrange proper protection for her. In hindsight, he understood that he should have never left her side in the first place.

Determined to make amends, he vowed to do better. He resolved to never again allow those ministers or officials the opportunity to torment her in his absence again. From now on, he would be her shield, her staunch protector, and her unending support.

But it might be too late for any of that.

His steps faltered, his breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he beheld the sight before his eyes. The sword in his hands slipped, clanging loudly as it hit the ground, and he sank to his knees in disbelief at the last thing he expected to see.

His shock deepened as he took in his wife's unrecognisable appearance. Crawling towards her limp form on the ground, he pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling with anguish. The horror settled within him like a heavy weight as he tried to imagine what atrocities these monsters had dared inflict upon her while he was gone. His mind raced with images of torture and torment, each one more gruesome than the last.

"Oh god, what have they done to you?" he whispered, his heart fracturing into a million shards as he struggled to comprehend her pale skin, her white hair, and the blood-like tears staining her cheeks. With shaking hands, he gently cupped her cold cheek, his fingers tracing the contours of her face as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, still his beloved wife.

"Please wake up, my love. This isn't funny, stop scaring me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You promised to wait for me. You promised..." His words trailed off into a broken sob as he refused to accept anything but the truth, shaking his head in denial even as he searched desperately for a pulse, even when she remained unresponsive.

"No, no, no... this can't be real. It can't be," he murmured, his mind reeling with the unimaginable horror of what he had found.

Despair and regret enveloped him as he sobbed painfully, holding her lifeless body tightly against his chest. The realisation that she was truly gone, that her final moments were spent alone in the very room she despised just to be with him, weighed heavily on his heart. He grappled with the bitter truth that he had failed her, just as she had feared when she hesitated to be with him.

Gradually, his sorrow gave way to seething rage as he recalled the faces of the ministers and officials responsible for this atrocity. They had callously taken her life, foolishly believing he would be deceived by their feeble attempt to frame her. With trembling hands, he picked up a shard of the shattered bowl nearby and brought it to his nose, recognising the metallic scent of mercury.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

They had poisoned her with lethal doses of mercury, causing a myriad of symptoms—tremors, headaches, muscle weakness, kidney damage, and breathing difficulties. And the deliberate administration of such high doses to turn her hair white revealed their sinister intent from the outset.

Just how much had they fed her? It was evident they had intended to kill her from the start. Anguish and fury surged within him as he vowed to make them pay.

Gently caressing her cold cheek, he leaned in to kiss her unmoving lips, his own trembling against hers. He blamed himself for everything that had transpired. Perhaps if she hadn't been with him, she would have lived a better life—a normal life with a normal man. She wouldn't have to endure such a painful and cruel death.

It was all because of him.

Regret hung heavy in his heart, but dwelling on what could have been served no purpose.

"I'm so sorry, my wife," he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Just hold on a bit longer, alright? I'll join you soon, but first, I'll make those bastards pay. Wait for me—I won't let you face this alone. Not again."

With resolve hardening in his heart, he retrieved his sword and sheathed it once more before lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Like a man burdened by death itself, he trudged towards the throne room where justice awaited. Kicking the doors open with a forceful thrust of his leg, he was met with a sea of horrified expressions from the ministers and officials. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated the emperor's dramatic entrance, cradling his beloved empress in his arms.

Ignoring their shocked gazes, he strode past them, his eyes fixed on the throne at the far end of the room. With careful tenderness, he laid his wife down upon the ornate seat, arranging her robes and ensuring her comfort as though she were merely sleeping. Pressing a solemn kiss upon her cold forehead, he turned to face the assembled council, their unease palpable in the air.

The guilty culprits remained frozen in their places, uncertain of what awaited them.

As the emperor's gaze swept over them, the ministers and officials for the first time felt a cold shiver of fear trickle down their spines. His expression was unreadable, his appearance wild and dishevelled compared to his usual polished demeanour. Specks of blood and dirt stained his robes and skin, his hair a tangled mess, half tied up in a disarray that mirrored the chaos within him.

Gone was the warm smile that often graced his features; instead, a slow, unsettling grin crept across his face.

"My dearest ministers and officials," he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie calmness. "Your message has been received loud and clear. I hope you're satisfied now that you've succeeded in eradicating the empress, as you so desperately desired. I've given it some thought, and perhaps... you were all right."

The Minister of Rites, attempting to feign nonchalance, cleared his throat. "A-about what, Your Imperial Majesty?" he stammered.

Baekhyun's eyes gleamed with a frightening intensity as he smirked, his demeanour bordering on madness. "About what this nation truly needs," he replied, his voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Not a good emperor, but a mad one."

Without giving the men before him time to register his words, all Baekhyun saw was red. In a split second, he unsheathed his sword and transformed into a bloodthirsty animal, cutting down anyone and everyone in his path. The Minister of Rites tried to flee but to no avail. He watched in complete horror as his colleagues dropped dead one by one, their blood splattering over the grand walls of the throne room, their screams echoing.

The emperor went on a rampage, leaving no man behind. The Minister of Rites, who had been behind the idea of poisoning the empress, smearing her name by labelling her a demon, and executing her, was now filled with regret. They had turned him into the mad king his empress had feared. Perhaps they had finally achieved their goal, but it wasn't what they were prepared for.

The minister collapsed to his knees before the emperor, realising that His Imperial Majesty had saved him for last. Trembling, he rubbed his hands together in a desperate plea. "P-please, everything I've done, it's for the betterment of our nation."

Baekhyun's humourless laughter echoed through the hall, sending shivers down the minister's spine. "You truly believe that, don't you? Of course, that includes subjecting my wife to all that torment. Yes, because that is exactly what the nation needs. Unfortunately for you, I am the emperor, and I determine what's best for the nation. And in this case, I think it's better off without traitors like you. See you on the other side," were the last words the minister heard before his head was severed from his neck, rolling off to join the others on the floor.

The emperor finally turned back, his eyes softening as they landed on his beloved's lifeless body. Making his way back towards her, he knelt down beside her, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her hand. Holding it to his cheek, he missed the warmth it once had.

"I'm coming now, my love," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long. I'll be there with you soon."

"Yes, I understand His Imperial Majesty's orders not to enter, but it's been hours. Surely, any assembly would have concluded by now, wouldn't it?" With apprehension and curiosity, a senior court lady pushed open the doors to the once-bustling throne room, expecting to find His Imperial Majesty and his council of ministers. Instead, she was met with a horrifying sight—a scene of bloodshed and chaos spread across the grand hall.

Her piercing scream echoed through the silent room, jolting nearby palace staff into action. Rushing to the scene, they were met with a scene that chilled them to the bone. At the end of the room, amidst a sea of lifeless bodies, lay the empress on the throne, her appearance shocking all who beheld it. Beside her, her husband remained, his head cradled on her chest, their hands tightly clasped together. A gaping stab wound marred his chest—it seemed he had taken his own life before joining her in death.

Following that, the next prince in line promptly ascended the throne and found himself compelled to appoint an entirely new cabinet of ministers and officials. The entire nation descended into chaos, particularly since it was still embroiled in a war, with endless theories circulating about the events. While some speculated that the emperor succumbed to madness and killed his own council, others whispered of a conspiracy, suggesting that the ministers had orchestrated the demise of both the empress and the emperor.

Amidst this uncertainty, the new prince faced the daunting challenge of restoring order to the kingdom. With a heavy heart, he pledged to uncover the truth behind the tragic occurrences and ensure that justice was served to those responsible.

In the end, the truth of what truly occurred remained shrouded in mystery. All those involved had departed from the realm of the living. As centuries passed, that chapter in history became known as the Scarlet Requiem, a haunting tale that lingered in the collective memory of the kingdom. Despite countless efforts to unravel the enigma, the events surrounding the tragedy remained obscured by the sands of time, leaving future generations to ponder and speculate about the dark secrets of the past.

"What do you think really happened?" a woman asked her boyfriend as they studied a painting depicting the throne room scene in a museum dedicated to the events of the Scarlet Requiem.

He pondered for a moment before responding with a shrug. "It's hard to say. But judging by the way he's holding onto her, it seems he must have truly loved her. Let's hope they've found peace and happiness, whether in the afterlife or their next life."

She nodded in agreement, leaning into his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I hope so too."

He flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm just saying, if I were him, I wouldn't have left her for war in the first place."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful smack, though a smile danced on her lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I bet it's because the empress was described as beautiful as a celestial being."

He scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me how pretty she was. I'll stay only if you're my empress."

Unbeknownst to them, the couple had been contemplating their own past lives. Perhaps the emperor and empress had indeed found each other again in another existence.

Believe it or not, this has been on my mind for months ever since seeing those AI-generated photos of Baekhyun. I had an epiphany while looking at them again yesterday and just had to write this. It's my first EXO fic, and I hope it's decent hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Master Tag list:

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @green-agent @vantediary @tinyteezer |

@hollxe1 @pandabur666 @lilactangerine @oddracha @evidive

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

can you talk more about harry being able to feel magic throughout the series?

Sure, so there are a few instances I recall of Harry feeling magic and I honestly don't know some of them. Like, some are questionable evidence and some are much clearer...

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again. He stepped in front of it.

(PS, 149)

Compared to Ron:

“See?” Harry whispered. “I can’t see anything.” “Look! Look at them all…there are loads of them.…” “I can only see you.” “Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am.” Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn’t see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas. Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

(PS, 151)

Ron is implied to not feel the urge to look at the mirror the way Harry does. Not only that but Harry just instinctively gets how the mirror works, where you need to stand to see the reflection, and why Ron can't see it from where he is standing. This isn't something he experimented with before, he just, knew.

Harry couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he didn’t just throw Riddle’s diary away. The fact was that even though he knew the diary was blank, he kept absentmindedly picking it up and turning the pages, as though it were a story he wanted to finish. And while Harry was sure he had never heard the name T. M. Riddle before, it still seemed to mean something to him, almost as though Riddle was a friend he’d had when he was very small, and had half-forgotten. But this was absurd. He’d never had friends before Hogwarts, Dudley had made sure of that.

(CoS, 218)

Harry senses the Horcrux in the diary. It's possible this is because he, too, is a Horcrux and not because he is sensitive to magic in general, but I'm noting it here anyway.

“Three . . .” muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, “two . . . one . . .” It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then —

(GoF, 73)

In this above one everyone is urged forward, it's the hook painful sounding sensation I'm not sure others are experiencing.

Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, “Imperio!” It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

(Gof, 231)

Again, I'm just not sure how the Imperius is supposed to feel, but Harry describes a light floating sensation besides his worries being wiped away (the latter of which I think is part of the curse, but I'm not sure about the first one)

“Disillusionment Charm,” said Moody, raising his wand. “Lupin says you’ve got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won’t stay on while we’re flying; this’ll disguise you better. Here you go —” He rapped Harry hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

(OotP, 54)

Harry feels the disillusionment charm washing over hum in cold trickles. Again, it's hard to say if it's normal or not since no one else describes feeling anything like that from what I remember.

“Sirius?” Harry spoke again, but much more quietly now that he was nearer. He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there. All that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

(OotP, 773)

I talked here more about Harry and his weird sense regarding the vale, but yeah...

“You’re quite right,” said Dumbledore serenely, shaking back his sleeve to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers; the sight of them made the back of Harry’s neck prickle unpleasantly.

(HBP, 67)

It could be a description of stress and discomfort, but I don't think Harry used these words to describe discomfort or worry at any other point in the books. And considering it's Harry Potter who spends most of his life in discomfort I think it's interesting and likely Harry sensing the curse.

Harry could not tell whether the shivers he was experiencing were due to his spine-deep coldness or to the same awareness of enchantments. He watched as Dumbledore continued to revolve on the spot, evidently concentrating on things Harry could not see

(HBP, 557-558)

This is what I mentioned in the post anon is referring to.

I don't have notes of something like this from DH, since I'm still compiling them, but I did find this scene to add on the train of Harry's magic being super intuitive and intuned with his emotions:

Dust swirled around Harry like mist, catching the blue gaslight, as Mrs. Black continued to scream. “Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers—“ “SHUT UP!” Harry bellowed, directing his wand at her, and with a bang and a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut again, silencing her

(DH, 171)

Harry literally casts "shut up" as a spell, and it not only works, but it works when no one in the Order succeded in shutting the portrait up magically! Harry is so insanely powerful I don't know what to do with this information anymore...

[cyberslvts]

PAS DE DEUX || w.maximoff

Summary you grapple with the intensity with your feelings for Wanda and through a powerful dance your love and longing for one another are vividly unveiled

Warnings: angst, brief arguing, happy endings, kissing, forbidden love, allusions to homophobia, secret romance, my fav sappic balerinas, they r so cute im gonna sob!!

Pairing: ballerinaWanda! x ballerina!reader

WC: 3.5k

Note: this was sm fun to write i am obsessed

———

In the heart of the cold city, hidden behind a façade of faded grandeur, stood the enigmatic Thornfield School of Ballet. Within its dimly lit corridors and ornate ballrooms, the ethereal art of ballet was practiced with an intensity that mirrored the shadows that danced upon the walls. It was here that you found solace, your delicate movements and haunting grace resonating with the melancholic melodies that echoed through the grand hallways.

The Thornfield Opera House stood silent and grand, its vast expanse illuminated only by the silvery glow of the moon filtering through the tall, arched windows. The night felt like it swallowed you. The silence and loneliness of the dark gave you a heightened sense of focus. Dressed in a simple leotard and ballet skirt, you moved gracefully to the center of the stage. The empty red velvet seats, normally bustling with anticipation, now looked like slumbering sentinels in the darkness.

You were a brilliant and elegant dancer, the prima ballerina of the Thornfield Ballet School. Your every step seemed to weave magic, casting a spell over the audience with each performance. The years of training and dedication cultivated you so that you weren't just a dancer but a conduit for the very essence of the art form.

A sigh escaped your lips as you raised your arms, the opening strains of a haunting melody filled your ears. The music existed within the depths of your memory, each note etched into your soul. It was a melody only you could hear, a secret dance between you and the music of your heart.

With a deep breath, you began to move. Each step was deliberate, each extension of your limbs an expression of the emotions that swirled within you. The moonlight cast delicate shadows that danced along with you, a spectral audience that whispered its approval in the rustling of fabric

Your body twisted and turned across the stage and the opera house felt as if it came alive around you. The soft echos of your footfalls echoed throughout the grand hall, filling the space with a magical resonance.

The empty velvet red chairs surrounded you, blurring into a hue of gold and scarlet as you spun and twirled across the stage. The spotlight illuminated your form, casting long, enchanting shadows that stretched toward the edges of the grand hall. Your body seemed to merge with the haunting music, each note a whispered secret between you and the piano keys

You imagined thousands of eyes on you, each one locked in a mesmerizing trance that only you could break. You lost yourself in the dance, completely surrendering yourself to the music's embrace.

The final strains of the music echoed through the hall, and you froze in a final, breathtaking pose. The world felt like it held its breath for a moment before a figure emerged from the shadows of the audience.

“You know I don't like it when you come and watch me unannounced”

You spoke into the dark crowd. You didn't even need to see her to know who she was. A vibrant flash of red hair was illuminated by the spotlight as she stepped onto the stage.

“You’re glowing my love, How could I not stay and watch” she voiced, coming across the stage, wanting to be closer to you.

Wanda Maximoff, the embodiment of enigmatic allure, graced the Thornfield Opera House with a presence that demanded attention. With each step she took, the air seemed to shift around her, charged with an energy that was at once magnetic and captivating. A vibrant mane of crimson hair framed her face like a fiery halo, accentuating her aura of intensity.

As one of Thornfield's top dancers, Wanda's brilliance on stage was undeniable. Her movements bore the hallmark of a maestro, each gesture calculated and precise, cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. her performances left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who witnessed them.

The contrast between your styles was like a beautifully orchestrated duet: While you danced with the gentle grace of a waltz, guided by the melodies that flowed through your soul, Wanda's dance was a tempestuous tango, a dance with the shadows and the edge of passion. Her movements were sharper, her steps darker, and her presence engulfed the stage like a storm, leaving no corner untouched by her intensity.

Where your dance was a soothing balm, Wanda's was a consuming fire. Your elegance and grace resonated like a sonnet, whereas Wanda's movements told a story of calculated power. In your delicate pirouettes and fluid arabesques, there was a serenity that brought solace to the heart, like a gentle lullaby. But in Wanda's commanding leaps and controlled spins, there was a darkness that beckoned, a realm where passion and pain coexisted.

Wanda Maximoff, with her entrancing presence and mesmerizing dance, had woven her way into your heart in ways you never imagined. From the first time you saw her onstage, you were already hers. The secret romance that blossomed between you two was a delicate tapestry of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and the softest of touches. Your attachment to her felt like poisonous vines, both intoxicating and dangerous. Squeezing around your heart until there was no escaping its grip.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the intensity of your feelings for Wanda began to stir a twinge of fear deep within you. The opera house, was a haven for your love, a place where you and Wanda could share stolen moments in the shadows. Yet, the world outside those walls was a different story altogether.

The truth was, relationships like yours and Wanda's were not welcomed with open arms within the confines of Thornfield. The Society's rigid expectations and conservative norms casted a long shadow over any love that dared to deviate from the conventional path. If your feelings were exposed, you both knew that you would face the harsh reality of ostracization. Given your elevated position within the ballet company, the fallout could be even more devastating. You yearned to dance freely with Wanda, to hold her close without the weight of hidden affections, but the thought of the world discovering your love kept you trapped in a ruthless cycle of avoidance.

As she began to approach you, you instinctively turned away, a motion that caused a flicker of hurt to cross Wanda's expression. Her smile faltered, and you silently crossed the stage, heading toward the speaker in order to switch to a different song.

“I need to practice, Wanda,” you spoke without facing her, hoping she would take the hint to leave you.

"You've been avoiding me," she suddenly declared, her voice ringing out in the open space. She came to a halt at the center stage, her gaze fixed firmly on your form. The intensity of her eyes holding you in place.

The intimacy you shared with her had grown to such profound heights that the mere thought of it sent shivers down your spine. Each stolen kiss and every whispered promise felt like a thread connecting you to a love that was becoming too powerful to be contained. And so, you found yourself avoiding her, retreating into the shadows like a fragile creature seeking solace from the storm.

In your heart, you knew that Wanda sensed your distance, your absence from her side even in a crowded room. The weight of your unspoken emotions was presence, that casted a shadow over your every interaction. She, with her intuitive nature, surely understood that something was wrong, even if the words went unspoken.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Wanda," you deflected, your voice tinged with a hint of unease.

“Yes, you do.” Her strides toward you were purposeful, carrying an air of frustration and longing

“You've stopped meeting me in the garden. you leave your door locked at night. You won't even look at me during rehearsal.” The light in her eyes dimmed, mirroring the distance that had inadvertently arisen. She, no doubt, grappled with the same intensity of your connection, the love that had burgeoned between you.

The guilt gnawed at you, knowing that Wanda deserved more than your silence, more than your hesitation. She deserved the world, and yet here you were, your heart caught in a tug-of-war between your love for her and the fear that had taken root within you.

"I've just been busy," you offered, your voice lacking the conviction it needed. The truth was, you couldn't bring yourself to lie, especially not to Wanda. Without meeting her gaze, you brushed past her, your eyes fixed on the sea of empty chairs as you prepared for the next song.

"Just as I said, I need to practice. I don't have time for this," you continued, your words slightly rushed, a veil of anxiety underscoring them. The show was fast approaching, and the pressure weighed heavily on you. "The performance is on Friday, and I barely have my part of the pas de deux down, and—"

"Fine then, I'll stay and help you," she interrupted, her voice carrying an unwavering determination. Wanda understood you better than anyone else. She knew that ballet was your lifeblood, your very essence. If that was the avenue she had to take to reach you, then so be it.

As the music began to fade in, she moved closer, bridging the gap between you. You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty in your eyes. Was she serious?

Although Wanda wasn't your official partner in the pas de deux, her innate talent and brilliance made it easy for her to memorize the choreography. She had watched the routine countless times, During rehearsals, you'd often catch her gaze fixed on you, burning ache evident in her eyes. You wished it was her presence by your side, her soft, delicate hands on you, instead of the rough masculine ones whisking you through the air.

She took your hand in hers, her touch a warm reassurance that sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced at her one last time before the dance commenced, your movements seeming almost too deliberate, lacking the usual fluidity that came so naturally to you. Every step felt calculated as if you were trying to maintain a distance that your heart was struggling to obey. Wanda's gaze, however, remained fixed on you, unwavering and intense.

With each movement, her eyes searched yours, probing for answers to the questions you hadn't voiced. The emotions that played across her face were a silent plea, a desperate attempt to understand the reason behind your avoidance. Yet, even as you tried to keep your focus on the dance, the intensity of her gaze was a distraction you couldn't escape.

“Relax,” Wanda's voice cut through the tension, her hands on your waist guiding your movements. Your arms extended gracefully on each side, and your toes pointed delicately against the smooth wooden stage

In that instant, Wanda's movements shifted, becoming more edged and intense. She led you through a series of intricate steps, each one a silent declaration of her love and devotion to you. As the music swelled, your bodies came alive, moving in perfect synchrony. You began with a series of intertwining pirouettes, your movements mirroring Wandas with an effortless harmony. With every rotation, your eyes met briefly, a fleeting connection that spoke volumes beyond words.

You battled with your own emotions, your heart warring with your mind. You were determined to maintain the distance you believed was necessary to protect yourself and Wanda from the intensity of your shared feelings. The love you felt for her was a tempestuous sea, and you feared being swept away by its currents.

Yet, As you moved as one there was an undeniable chemistry, an untamed force driving you towards her. Her eyes followed your every move, filled with a love that yearned to be free from constraints.

Wanda's touch was gentle yet firm, her hands on your waist guiding your movements with a confidence that only came from a deep understanding. As you twirled and spun, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a realm where the intensity of your love was matched only by the beauty of your dance.

When the music built to its crescendo, Wanda's grip on you tightened her touch a grounding force in the midst of your internal storm. And in that final, breathtaking pose, as the music lingered in the air, your eyes locked onto each other's, a world of unspoken words passing between you.

As your heavy breathing slowed, the moment was broken when you turned away, walking out of her embrace,

“Why won't you just let me love you,” her voice echoed in the space, a plea that hung in the air like an unanswered question.

"Because I can't, Wanda," You whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. The reality of the situation weighed heavily, the knowledge that your love existed in a world that did not understand.

“Yes, you can” she countered, coming closer to you.

“People will find out. And when they find out theyll talk.” you exasperated, The weight of the world's judgment pressed down on you, suffocating the love that burned within you.

Wanda turned to face you, her expression determined. "Then hide me. Lock me away from the world if you have to," She breathed out, her voice carrying a plea that mirrored the depth of her feelings. She was willing to sacrifice her visibility, her place in the world, if it meant keeping your love intact. “I just want to be with you Y/n. Why can't you see that?”

It was your deep affection for her that filled you with guilt, knowing that she deserved better than waht you were giving her. You believed she deserved someone who would cherish her openly, free from the shackles of secrecy that bound your love. Wanda's passion, her unwavering commitment, made your heart ache with love for her, but it also filled you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. You loved her so much that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to see her happy.

“I can't do that to you, Wanda.” Guilt welled up inside you, emotions spilling over like a river bursting its banks. “You deserve to be with someone different. Someone who can love you without fear.”

“But I don't want that!” Her breathing was heavy and her, eyes burned with anger. "I am yours, Y/n," she declared, her voice sharp with passion. "All I want in return is your love, And you can't even give me that.”

You noticed how her bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly, just like it always did when she was trying not to cry.

The pain of your recent avoidance cut deep into her heart, leaving a constant ache that refused to subside. All she wanted was you, all she ever wanted was you, and your unmistakable withdrawal over the past few months had left her feeling lost in a suffocating pit of self-doubt. Why were you so eager to get away from her? Why couldn't she make you stay, even when she had tried her hardest? Was she not good enough to hold your attention?

These questions ate away at her and she had never felt so small, like an insignificant fragment in a world that once felt whole.

“You ignore me and push me away without any explanation.” Her voice was loud as it echoed across the stage. The hurt and insecurity painted on her face. “You're always leaving me. It's like you don't even care about my feelings!”

“Of course I care about your feelings” You turned to her, your own anger begining to rise up inside you. “You’re all I think about, everything I do is for you!”

Every choice you had made was for Wanda, every step you had taken was to protect her from the storm that could come crashing down upon you both. Your love was genuine, but the fear was suffocating, threatening to eclipse everything

"You think this isn't hard for me?" your voice cracked with frustration, your eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions. "I am terrified, Wanda. Every time I see you or feel you, it's like I'm drowning in the fear of what could happen.”

"You make me feel things I never wanted to feel," your breath came out in rapid bursts, as your vision became clouded by tears. "And I'm afraid that those feelings will be written all over me,” Your emotions began to feel overwhelming, the room closing in around you, suffocating you with its walls and the weight of your fear. “So this is the only way I know how to keep us safe, to keep you safe." Your words were punctuated by a sob, choked and raw. The walls you had erected were crumbling, and you were left standing bare before Wanda.

“and It's hard Wanda, it's so fucking hard. I miss you, all the time.” the confession tumbled out, your voice breaking as tears cascaded down your cheeks, the floodgates finally opening.

At the sight of your panicked tears, Wanda immediately rushed to you, her steps were loud across the stage until she caught you in her embrace, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, comforting hold, Wishing she could take away all the pain and fear you felt at that moment.

“Im sorry, Im sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to yell.” The tenderness in her voice was like a soothing balm, her arms holding you even tighter, as you fell into her body.

"I can’t-” You gasped, The fabric of her shirt absorbed the tears that fell from your eyes, “I cant loose you wanda”

The sobs that wracked your body were a release, a catharsis of emotions that had been pent up for far too long.

“You’re not. You are absolutely not losing me,” she reassured you, her words slightly muffled as she pressed kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. You instinctively clung onto her, worried she would disappear.

With her arms wrapped around you, Wanda's touch became your anchor. Her hands moved in tender circles on your back, a gesture of comfort that sent ripples of calm through your frazzled nerves. At that moment, the world seemed to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you cocooned in an intimate haven of solace

Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing relaxed against her. Her breath brushed against your ear, her voice was a gentle whisper, "I can't be without you, y/n" she admitted, spilling out the truths in her heart. “I know you're scared but please don't push me away.” The tenderness in her voice deepened as she continued, her words a balm to your fears. “I don't know what will happen in the future but I can swear to you that im not going anywhere.”

In those words, a sense of solace enveloped you, like a gentle embrace for your weary heart. With her by your side, the fear that had kept you captive began to lose its grip, replaced by a flicker of hope and the reassurance that you didn't have to carry the burden alone.

“Im sorry I avoided you” You whispered not bringing your gaze up to face Wanda as if you were hiding from your actions. “I was awful. I should have just talked to you.”

Wanda brought her hand to your chin tilting your face up until your eyes met hers.

"It's okay, I know you're trying to protect us both," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "But you don't have to do it alone. Whatever happens, We can face it together."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting Wanda's words melt into your skin. The attentiveness of her understanding touched you deeply, and You started to wonder how you could ever be away from her.

“I love you, so much,” you confessed hoping she could feel your sincerity “And i’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didnt.”

Her relief evident in her smile. She cupped your face, her touch grounding you in the present moment. Wanda leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

“I love you, more than you could ever know.”

In that stolen moment on the stage, beneath the watchful eyes of the empty velvet seats, your love was a dance in itself – a dance of vulnerability and strength, of passion and tenderness. And as you held each other close, you knew that the opera house, with all its secrets and faded grandeur, held a space where your love could flourish, defying the boundaries of time and circumstance.

[holylulusworld]

Between a rock and a hard place (6)

Summary: You are in big trouble and in need of money. Two wolves are more than willing to help you. For a price…

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Mobster!August Walker

Warnings: angst, language, power imbalance, debts, scared reader, groping, gaslighting, darkfic, both brothers are not nice guys, mafia au, a tiny hint of fluff, possessive Walter, jealousy, this author has a size kink and it shows

Between a rock and a hard place (5)

Between a rock and a hard place masterlist

Walter ends the tour in front of his bedroom. You don’t know what this is all about, because he only showed you around the house.

“What do you say?” You blink at his question, struggling to find the correct answer to his question. “Do you like your new home? I changed a few things, let the maid buy some plants and such to make it nicer for you.”

“It’s…nice…and…uh…huge,” you stammer, unsure if that’s what he wanted to hear.

“I knew you’d like it,” his huge hands cup your face. You feel so small and weak close to Walter and August. “My sweet little lamb. I saved the best for last.”

He lowers himself to press a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips. He claims your mouth like he did with your body and soul.

“OH—” You’re breathless when he finally pulls away, a smirk on his kiss-swollen lips. “You did?” In honesty, you don’t want to know about the surprise he saved for last. It can’t be good. If you learned one thing about the brothers is that they always get what they want.

“Close your eyes,” he purrs in your ear. “Trust me in this, lamb. I know you’ll love it.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. What else can you do but follow his orders? He’s holding your life in the palm of his hand. And his hand is so fucking big it could crush you in the blink of an eye.

“Good girl.” He praises you when you close your eyes and allow him to guide you along the hallways. He stops shortly after and unlocks a door. “Go inside.”

Walter moves his hand to the small of your back and guides you inside another room. He silently closes the door and locks it behind him.

“Open your eyes, sweet lamb,” he encourages you with a soft nudge to your side. “Go ahead and have a look around.”

You open your eyes to look around the room he brought you to. Speechless you turn toward Walter.

“What is all of this?”

“I called our interior designer and asked them to create the room you described on your blog. I even got the fluffy carpet.” He smirks when you gape at him. “You won’t get carpet burn when you kneel for me to suck me off.”

He recreated one of the rooms you had on your blog. A blush and white bedroom. Walter even got a white bed with pink and white bedding, a pink canopy, and a crystal chandelier.

The room was designed by someone who put a lot of effort into details. They used soft fabrics, elegantly curved furniture, and ornate gold mirrors and wall art frames.

“I don’t understand,” you wrinkle your forehead. “When did you find the time to do all this?”

He shrugs. “I found the time to do it for you.”

“I—” you don’t know how to react. Walter allowed his brother to use you, while he was using you like a toy. At the same time, he let someone create your dream bedroom.

“It’s alright, my sweet lamb,” he cups your face again to kiss you greedily. “I wanted you to have a place to come down. August is not allowed inside this room. Only I can unlock it.”

A shudder runs down your spine. This is not a bedroom but a prison.

Walter’s features soften for a second at your pained expression.

“What I wanted to say is, that he’s not going to taunt you in here. You are allowed to leave the room whenever you want to.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you murmur. “If he gets the chance, he’ll hurt me or sell me off to one of your guests.”

“Baby lamb, you know nothing about our dynamic,” Walter smirks. “If I lay claim on someone, August knows he’s not allowed to harm the person. You’re mine. If he wants to stay alive, he’ll not touch one hair on your head.”

“But—” you bite your lower lip, remembering how they fucked you in sync. “You let him have me…”

Walter chuckles as you shy away from his intense gaze. “We always share the good things in life. He’s allowed to touch you when I’m around. But only if I tell him so.”

You press your legs together. Having them both touch and use you wasn’t what you dreamed of on lonely nights. But you can’t deny that they woke a side of you that you never explored before.

“Hmmm…you liked having us both inside of your tight little holes,” Walter cups the back of your neck to steal another kiss. “Remember, you’re mine. He cannot have you outside of the club.”

“I…I don’t…I wouldn’t…”

“My sweet lamb is a secret vixen,” Walter concludes as his big hands move toward your ass to grope you roughly. “How about you decide on what we do next at the club?”

“Me?”

“As long as our VIP guests like the show, you can tell us how to fuck you,” he grins before kissing you again. “Think about it…”

“A pink room,” August throws a tantrum. He reminds you of an angry child as he paces back and forth in the dining room. “What will you do for her next?”

Walter remains silent. He simply watches his brother throw insults at him. “I thought about a reading nook at my office. She could read there, while I fuck her.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks at Walter’s words. He describes how he’d fuck you from behind while you read to him. Walter is shameless.

“Did you even listen to me?” August growls.

“I told you to stay the fuck out of my business,” Walter waves his brother’s words off. “We should talk about the show we want to put up for the VIPs. I want my little lamb to choose.”

“You want her to…” August pants heavily. “You lost your damn mind, brother! Are you insane? You cannot let her decide! We will fuck her ass and cunt and double-team her again.”

“We will discuss this later,” Walter angrily glares at his brother. He pats his thigh, waiting for you to sit in his lap. “I want my lamb to enjoy herself. If she comes with us inside of her, they will go crazy.”

August sits back down and crosses his arms over his chest. He watches you crawl in his brother’s lap with angry eyes.

“You’ll come so hard for us,” Marshal murmurs to lure you into sleep. You sigh and rest your tired head against his shoulder. He pats your head. “Right, little lamb.”

Sighing deeply August gets up from his seat to walk toward you. “I told you to call her by her name. She’s not some pet. Her name is Y/N.”

You flutter your eyes open to watch August stare at you in his brother’s arms. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous you like me more.” Walter narrows his eyes at his brother. “He knows that you’re mine, though.”

“I only want you to treat her like a person!”

“Says the man who wanted to let our guests use her,” Walter bites back. “I protected her from you and all the vultures at the club. She’s my sweet lamb, and I call her whatever I want to. We are still in the honeymoon phase and pet names are cute.”

“Does she call you sweet bear or shit too?” August tries to rile his brother up to make him snap. “Does she?”

You murmur Walter’s name, half asleep. It’s all you can do to calm him.

Walter is all you have left in this world. Your husband is dead, and all that’s waiting outside these walls is pain, sorrow, and debts. You desperately latch onto his attention and the sliver of hope he gives you. False hope.   

August doesn’t stop. He’s determined to make his brother snap. “She moaned the loudest when I was inside of her,” he smirks darkly when you hide your face in his brother’s chest. “Aw, don’t go all shy on me. You were all too eager to suck me off.”

“August,” Walter snarls his brother’s name. A warning to not cross a line.

“Do you have a problem, brother? If so, why did you share your sweet lamb with me?” August won’t stop. He loves to twist the knife if he gets the chance. “Why did you let me ruin her ass?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop annoying me. You shared your bitch with me and wanted me to pay you back. If you do not stop, you’ll never touch her again!”

August snorts. “You will let me have a taste whenever we are at the club.” He puts his hand on your ass and squeezes hard. “Right, baby. You will let your Auggie fuck you good and deep. Maybe I’ll breed your cunt next time too.”

You squirm in Walter’s lap. August’s words go straight to your lower half and you can't fight the wetness slowly coating your panties.

“There you go, Y/N,” August coos. “I bet that pretty pussy can’t wait to get bred.” He cups your ass with both hands. “I let them all have a look at your cum-leaking cunt next time.”

“Breeding bench,” Walter growls. His chest rumbles and you squirm even harder to rub your aching sex against the growing bulge in his pants. “We will bring one to the VIP area and give them all a good show…”

Tags in reblog.

[anouchard]

Malevolent Liveblog: Episode 12

HELLO THERE.

Spoilers under the cu(l)t ...

To your right. Take the door now y'all.

Lighter. I'm sure this will never mean anything.

"Anything look ... edible?" Get this man a proper meal, please.

MUSIC

LAUGHTER. I LOVE his laugh.

I am sure the ornate mirrors will not come back to haunt us in any way.

Gosh, I forgot how immersive this podcast was from the very beginning.

Laundry chute?

"Damn" indeed.

Oh I forgot about the paper! What's the deal with that?

Phonograph? Ooh.

KELLIN.

Wait ... this doctor is Harlan?

That genuinely never registered, but ofc it is.

Harlan, how did you do this one? Harlan.

The King in Yellow!

Aaaaand cue the music.

Ohhhhhhh boy. Oh. Oh?

"See yourself framed in gold"? DO NOT GO BACK TO THE MIRRORS.

The DREAD I feel.

Getting closer ...

NO. DO NOT.

Harlan, how do you know that mirror horror is my worst nightmare. How. It is up there with eye horror. How dare you.

TUNNEL

"You first" I HAVE JUST REALISED WHY THAT IS FUNNY.

Uh, down we go.

"This isn't a mine".

"Then it's a secret we need to see". ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT.

"To the keenest form of fascination".

CARCOSA? IS THAT YOU??

(This gives me chills. So many chills. John's description and tone is WONDERFUL).

CRASH. Well, that went well.

WE ARE HOME.

Very Lemony Snicket vibes here.

The city has eyes? THE CITY HAS EYES??

Ohhhh the vocal shifts. Lovely.

Lantern? River? Very Underworld.

No paddles? Something in the water? This feels like we are about to meet Gollum, folks.

"We're moving ... slowly".

Of course there's something down there. Of course there is.

The vibes are IMMACULATE.

"Do fish swarm?" Not the time, Artie.

NOPE NOPE NOPE

"Arthur lie back down" ugh.

"ARTHUR ARE YOU MAD". Yes but maybe that's how he survived.

"It's over" ahahahahahahahahaha.

Anaesthetic? That was considerate.

John being speechless is ... well.

CASSILDA???

WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THE KING IN YELLOW WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THE KING IN YE-

Is this Yhtill? Alar? Carcosa?

"You're here with me, John, and I need you. We're a team".

Oh of COURSE there's a corpse.

OH GOD

Large yellowish egg?

"I know this place".

Adore this. All of this.

"Are you willing?" Oooft.

AMPITHEATRE YES

Ah yes, the horror of being Known.

"You've come a long way to become whole again".

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

"Promise nothing will happen to him".

Ahahahahahahahaha YES

This is one HECK of a finale.

"My face is ... my own, once again ... I am The King in Yellow." Chills.

Piano.

"Faroe?"

OH HEY KING.

"Every instance of you is being erased." And yet he holds on.

HEY JOHN.

Oh ...

Aaaaaaand SCENE.

[today-in-the-bunker]

Today, Sam stumbles upon a small dust covered mirror, ornate handle and gold-framed glass surrounded by cobwebs in a long forgotten box. The box had no warning of any sort, so Sam deems it safe to touch and inspect further. He blows the dust covering off of the glass, however the moment he meets his own gaze, he is sucked into the mirror. He can still see the bunker through a hazy window, the same oval shape as the object he'd been holding. He slams fists against the glass, only for them to bounce right off. Eventually, Dean opens the door to the storage area his brother had been exploring, having heard the clatter of the mirror being dropped. Dean, who has been on the wrong end of far too many cursed objects, calls in Cas, who is fortunately familiar with the handheld mirror from a visit to earth in the mid-1800s. He is able to, with eyes firmly shut, reach into the mirror and pull Sam out. Sam takes a minute to readjust then is immediately berated by Dean about how he, who has always patronized his brother about what he can and can't touch during their research, has also fallen victim to one of the Men of Letters ill-secured objects.

[dee-writes-smut]

THE SPRING COURT (Chapter Two)

FEATURING Lucien Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY A conversation with the High Lady leaves you with a lot to think about, especially the odd tug you feel toward Lucien. It certainly doesn't help when you both set off on your journey and in between the rustle of the changing trees and the calls of the birds around you, you discover a soft side to Lucien that makes you feel warm in a terrifying way.

CONTENT WARNINGS Tamlin, mentions of newborn/baby, talk of fulfilling dreams, themes of deep sadness/loneliness, TAMLIN, arguments/fighting, angst, closed off Lucien, Elain getting shit on by tam tam, Lucien being worried about tam tam, and themes of friendships falling out

AUTHORS NOTE yes, I do recall promising you all an update on the save a hero series, and yes, I am posting a FAT chapter to courts instead :) <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

After leaving the study, the High Lady led you through a labyrinth of grand hallways and winding corridors, each more elegant than the last. The air smelled faintly of oak and candle wax, carrying the gentle hum of servants and maids going about their nightly duties. She greeted them with warm, familiar smiles, a stark contrast to the authority she commanded during the coronation. You found it fascinating how easily she seemed to balance both roles—the ruler and the caretaker. 

As you continued down the hall, you noticed a shift in the surroundings. Stacks of wooden crates lined the walls, filled with what looked like old nursery furniture—small beds, rocking chairs, faded toys. There was a faint scent of dust, like the memory of long-untouched rooms now being awakened. 

“This used to be the nursery wing,” the High Lady explained, catching your gaze as you took in the scattered pieces of history. “Where all of Eris’s brothers once lived.” 

There was something sharp in her tone, a bitterness that cut through her usual grace. The mention of Beron’s children seemed to summon a shadow across her face. “Beron liked to keep his children at a distance,” she continued, her voice low, though there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. “He believed in separation, even among family.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, a harshness settling in her eyes that told you more than her words ever could. 

Eris, with his new reign, clearly did not share his father’s cold ideals. “Eris and I don’t agree with those values. We’ve decided to move the children’s rooms next to our wing, closer to us, where they belong.” She glanced around the hallway with an air of finality. “This is becoming a guest wing. Unfortunately, it’s still being renovated, and the only room that hasn’t been touched yet is Lucien’s childhood bedroom. That’s where you’ll stay tonight.” 

Her hand rested briefly on a door with a simple gold handle. The frame was worn, showing its age, with faint markings of painted foxes still visible along the chipped wood. Despite the years of wear, you could imagine how bright and full of life those foxes had once been, just as the room behind the door must have been when Lucien called it home. 

With a gentle push, the High Lady opened the door, and you stepped inside. 

The room you stepped into was a masterpiece of elegance and warmth, a sanctuary carved from the very soul of the Autumn Court. It stretched out before you like a quiet dream, far more expansive than any space you had ever known. The high, vaulted ceilings soared above, giving the room a sense of grandeur, as if it had been crafted to mimic the boundless canopy of the forest outside. 

Rich, chocolate-colored wainscoting lined the walls, gleaming softly in the amber light that spilled from the ornate chandelier overhead. The wood was polished to a mirror-like sheen, its surface catching and reflecting the glow in a way that seemed to invite you deeper into its embrace. Above the wainscoting, the walls were painted in a deep, velvety forest green, the color so lush it seemed to pulse with life. It was the kind of green that spoke of old growth and whispered secrets, a color that held the wild, untamed beauty of the forest at its heart. 

And then, there were the foxes. 

Along the upper edge of the walls, just beneath the ceiling’s crown molding, a series of exquisitely painted foxes danced and played, as though the very essence of the forest had been brought to life within these walls. Their russet fur gleamed with vibrant reds and golds, their bodies caught mid-motion, forever racing through painted fields and under the shelter of painted trees. Some foxes curled in peaceful repose among the foliage, while others leapt with wild joy, their eyes sparkling with untold mischief. The artwork was so vivid, so full of life, that you half-expected one of them to break free from the walls and dart across the floor, disappearing into the shadowed corners of the room. 

At the heart of the room stood a grand four-poster bed, carved from dark mahogany that gleamed with the same deep richness as the wainscoting. The posts were thick and sturdy, their surfaces adorned with intricate vines and delicate leaves that wound their way up to the canopy. The bed itself was a haven of luxury, draped in sumptuous layers of crimson and gold, the colors of autumn leaves set aflame. The blankets were plush, the pillows impossibly soft, and it beckoned you with the promise of rest—a retreat from the whirlwind of change swirling around you. 

To one side, a large stone fireplace sat nestled into the wall, its hearth cold for the moment, but the scent of kindling and wood hung in the air, ready to be lit. The mantle above the fireplace held a painting, a stunning landscape of the Autumn Court’s forest at twilight, the trees ablaze with the fiery hues of fall. The light in the painting seemed to shimmer and shift as you moved, as if the leaves were swaying gently in the breeze. It was a perfect mirror of the world beyond the walls—a world both familiar and distant. 

Your gaze shifted to the tall, arched window on the opposite side of the room. Heavy velvet curtains, the same deep green as the walls, were drawn back to reveal the moonlit forest outside. Silvery light filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow over the room and illuminating the vast expanse of trees beyond. The forest stretched endlessly, its leaves shimmering under the light of the moon, and you could almost hear the soft rustle of the branches, as if the forest itself was whispering to you. It was a view that reminded you how small you were in the grand scheme of things, and yet, how vast the world was—waiting, calling. 

Every detail in the room had been chosen with care. From the rich textures and colors that enveloped the space to the faint scent of cedar and pine that clung to the air, it was clear this room had been designed to offer both comfort and reflection. It was as if the room wanted to remind you of the beauty of the Autumn Court, even as it offered a glimpse of something more—something beyond. 

Yet, as your eyes drifted over the space, there was a sense of dissonance. For all its beauty, this room was not yours, not truly. It belonged to the world you were about to leave behind, a world you could never fully claim as your own. 

“Eris told me the foxes were added by their mother when she was pregnant with Lucien,” the High Lady’s voice drifted softly from behind you, breaking the silence as she noted how your gaze lingered on the intricate artwork. There was a tender note in her tone, one that softened even further at the mention of Lucien. “Lucien apparently spent hours watching them, imagining they were real—so real, in fact, that he believed they might leap off the walls and disappear into the forest beyond.” 

You could almost picture it: a small boy, wild with imagination, his copper hair catching the sunlight as he watched the foxes with wide, wondering eyes, convinced that the painted creatures might slip through some hidden doorway into the woods. 

“Eris said they had to keep a close eye on him when they played in the courtyard, or else Lucien would wander off into the trees, searching for the animals that lived both on his walls and in his dreams,” the High Lady continued, her lips curving slightly at the memory. “My husband finds it odd that Lucien connects so deeply with the foxes. But I—” she paused, as if tasting the words on her tongue, considering them carefully before continuing, “I can see why. Even knowing him as little as I do, I understand why he feels that call. He moves like them, don’t you think? Sly, quick, with that mask always in place... hiding the suffering underneath.” 

Her eyes followed the painted foxes along the walls, her expression distant, as though she was sifting through memories from long ago. There was a glimmer of something—perhaps regret, or nostalgia—that flickered across her face, a sheen of remembrance in her gaze as she tracked the foxes, each one captured mid-dash, as if frozen in the moment before they might spring to life. 

“He was a good friend to me once,” she murmured, her voice soft and thoughtful, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to you. “But even then, when we were closest, I never really knew much about him. That’s how Lucien is... funny, in a way. He has this gift for making people feel at ease, like you’ve known him all your life. You fall into this sense of comfort, trusting him as if he’s an old friend, and before you know it, you’ve told him everything about yourself.” She chuckled lightly, but there was a hint of sadness beneath it. “And only after you’ve left do you realize—you never learned a thing about him in return.” 

She turned her gaze back to you, the warmth in her eyes shadowed by something deeper, a quiet understanding of Lucien’s guarded nature. You could hear it in the way she spoke of him—like someone who had tried to reach him, had once thought they were close, only to find that Lucien had always kept himself just out of reach. 

As you stood there, the weight of her words settled over you. The painted foxes seemed more than just childhood decorations now—they were symbols of something elusive, something that danced just beyond your grasp, much like Lucien himself. 

"I apologize for my nonsensical rambling," she chuckled softly, shaking herself from her reverie, as ifam the memories had momentarily swept her away. There was a faint blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, though her smile remained warm. "It seems, with the coronation and everything, I've fallen prey to nostalgia." 

Her laughter was light, but you could sense the weight of the evening on her shoulders—the emotions of the past and present all tangled up in the swirl of change. As she composed herself, the air shifted, and for a brief moment, you saw her not just as a ruler, but as someone who had lived through her own struggles, her own losses, much like the man she’d just described. 

"I'll let you get some rest," the High Lady said warmly, her smile soft as she made her way back to the door. She hesitated for a moment, her hand resting lightly on the gold handle before turning to face you once more. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you said yes to joining Lucien. I know you haven’t had much time to get to know me, and that all of this—" she gestured vaguely to the room and the whirlwind of events surrounding you, "—might feel overwhelming, maybe even a bit random. But when we spoke earlier, and you shared your dream of traveling, I saw something in your eyes.” 

Her gaze softened further, as if recalling that moment between you in the ballroom. “There was a fire in you, a passion so strong it almost sparked something in me. Call me crazy, but I’ve never trusted someone so completely at a first meeting. It was bizarre, how quickly you enraptured me, how I was drawn into your dream as if it were my own.” 

Her voice lowered, more intimate now, as if revealing something she had not shared with many. “I’m lucky to be able to provide you the means to chase that dream. And I hope that if—when—you return, you’ll come find me, so that we might become true friends.” 

The words felt genuine, but there was something else in her eyes—something left unspoken. As if, beneath her gratitude and warmth, there was another hope. A hope that the fire she had seen dancing in your eyes might somehow reignite another’s—a fire that she had once thought to be unquenchable. Her expression flickered with the briefest shadow of regret, a reminder of someone she had once considered a close friend, only to discover that his struggles had been kept hidden behind his ever-present mask. Lucien. 

She didn’t say it aloud, but it hung in the air between you, unspoken but palpable. The High Lady, it seemed, wasn’t just offering you an opportunity for your sake. She was hoping, perhaps, that through your own passion, you might help rekindle a spark in someone who had all but let his light go out. A friend she had tried to reach, but had never truly been able to know. 

Her eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, before she gave a final, quiet smile. Then, with a gentle click of the door, she left you alone with your thoughts. 

Sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. You stirred beneath the layers of plush blankets, the softness cradling you in a warmth that felt almost foreign. For a moment, you lay there, caught between the remnants of sleep and the encroaching reality of the day ahead. The events of the previous evening replayed in your mind—the High Lady’s words, the room’s quiet grandeur, the lingering presence of Lucien, even in his absence. 

As your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, where the painted foxes still danced and played, their russet fur gleaming in the morning light. The sight filled you with a strange mix of emotions—comfort, curiosity, and an unsettling sense of displacement. This room, so full of history and warmth, was not yours. It was a space imbued with the life of someone else, someone you barely knew but felt inexplicably drawn to. 

What is it about this place? you wondered, your thoughts trailing off as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows. The bed was large enough that you felt small within it, almost as though it was swallowing you whole. The High Lady’s voice echoed in your mind, her words about Lucien replaying like a haunting melody. He moves like them… sly, quick, with that mask always in place. The comparison resonated deeply, pulling at something inside you—a desire to uncover what lay behind that mask, to understand the man who had lived his childhood surrounded by these painted foxes. 

As you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your feet sinking into the thick, plush rug below, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety. Today, you would be stepping into the unknown, into a life that was not yet fully yours. The High Lady had been kind, her words full of warmth and hope, but there was an unspoken weight to her expectations. You had agreed to join Lucien, to help him in some capacity you still didn’t fully understand, and that decision now loomed over you, its consequences unfurling like the morning light creeping across the floor. 

What have I gotten myself into? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You had always longed for adventure, for a life beyond the confines of your previous existence, but now that it was within your grasp, doubt began to creep in. The room, with its rich textures and warm colors, suddenly felt like a gilded cage—beautiful, yes, but confining in its own way. The painted forest, the foxes, the lavish bed—it all seemed to be watching you, waiting for you to make your move. 

You rose slowly, your body still heavy with sleep, and made your way to the window. The curtains were partially drawn, allowing a sliver of sunlight to illuminate the room. As you pulled them back, the full splendor of the Autumn Court’s forest came into view. The trees, bathed in the early morning light, shimmered with the fiery hues of fall, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The sight was breathtaking, and for a moment, you forgot your worries, lost in the beauty of the world beyond the glass. 

This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself, inhaling deeply as the scent of cedar and pine wafted in from the forest. A chance to see the world, to live a life of meaning. But even as you tried to reassure yourself, the unease remained. There was so much you didn’t know, so much left to discover—not just about this place, but about Lucien, and perhaps even yourself. 

Your thoughts drifted back to the High Lady’s words, her unspoken hope that you might rekindle something in Lucien that had been lost. It felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t sure you were ready for. And yet, there was a part of you that was drawn to the challenge, that wanted to prove—to yourself, to the High Lady, maybe even to Lucien—that you were capable of more than you had ever imagined. 

Today is the beginning, you thought, your resolve hardening as you turned away from the window. The doubts and fears would not vanish easily, but you couldn’t afford to let them hold you back. There was a world out there, waiting to be explored, and a journey you had only just begun. And as you dressed, each movement deliberate and purposeful, you made a silent promise to yourself—to see this through, to face whatever lay ahead, no matter how uncertain or difficult it might be. 

With a final glance at the room, you stepped toward the door, ready to meet whatever awaited you on the other side. 

After what felt like an eternity of winding corridors and endless hallways, you finally arrived at the entry room, but not without some help. The morning had begun with a sense of purpose, but that quickly dissolved into confusion as you attempted to navigate the sprawling estate. You had passed the same set of ornate vases twice before you finally conceded defeat and stopped one of the maids, asking for directions to the entry room. Her polite smile, laced with amusement, did little to ease your embarrassment, but she kindly guided you to your destination, chatting about the daily bustle of the household along the way. 

Now, as you stood in the entry room, your breath caught at the sight before you. The space was grand, with high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of autumn leaves and forest animals. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, giving the room a cozy yet regal feel. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over everything. 

And there, waiting with a bright smile and a baby perched on her hip, was the High Lady. She looked every bit the ruler and mother, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she spotted you. The little one on her hip babbled happily, clutching at her mother’s dress with tiny, chubby fingers, clearly enjoying the morning excitement. 

“Good morning!” the High Lady greeted you, her voice full of genuine warmth. She adjusted the baby on her hip, pressing a kiss to the top of the little one’s head before looking back at you. “I hope you found your way here without too much trouble?” 

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. “Not without a few wrong turns,” you admitted, glancing around the room. “But your staff is very helpful.” 

She laughed, a sound like soft bells. “This house is like a maze, isn’t it? Even I still get turned around sometimes, and I’ve lived here for a few years now.” The baby cooed in response, as if adding her agreement, and the High Lady smiled down at her daughter before turning her attention back to you. “I’m so glad you’re here, though. Lucien will be joining us shortly.” 

As if on cue, Lucien appeared from an adjacent hallway, his presence as commanding as ever. He was dressed simply, in riding gear that emphasized his lithe, athletic frame. His auburn hair caught the light, giving him an almost otherworldly glow, and his russet eye met yours with a brief flicker of warmth before his gaze shifted to the High Lady and her child. 

“Good morning,” Lucien greeted, his tone polite but reserved. He offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though there was no mistaking the genuine affection when he looked at the High Lady and the baby. “Ready for the journey?” 

“Almost,” the High Lady replied, shifting the baby to her other hip. “I wanted to see you both off, but I’m afraid Eris won’t be able to join us. He’s been caught up in a meeting with his advisors, going over some new community improvement plans. He sends his apologies.” 

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment, though you quickly pushed it aside. The High Lord’s absence was understandable, and the High Lady’s presence was more than enough to set you at ease. The baby, who had been contentedly babbling, suddenly reached out toward Lucien, her tiny hands grasping at the air. 

Lucien’s expression softened, though his eyes held a unique sort of pain as he stepped closer, allowing the little girl to grab onto his fingers. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. The baby giggled, her eyes sparkling with joy as she tugged on his fingers, clearly delighted by the attention. 

The sight of Lucien with the baby on his arm was endearing in a way that caught you off guard. For a moment, the reserved, guarded man you’d met seemed to melt away, replaced by someone far more gentle, someone who might have been a doting father in another life. 

The High Lady watched the interaction with a soft smile, then turned back to you. “Shall we head outside? Your horses are ready, and I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer.” 

With a final kiss to her daughter’s head, she led the way outside, Lucien falling into step beside you. As you walked through the grand double doors and onto the cobblestone path that led to the courtyard, the crisp morning air greeted you, carrying the scent of pine and earth. The courtyard was a picturesque scene, with leaves fluttering down from the trees and the sunlight filtering through the branches. Two horses stood saddled and waiting, their coats sleek and shining in the morning light. 

The High Lady turned to you with a smile, her daughter now babbling happily on her hip. “I hope you’re as excited as I am for this journey,” she said warmly, her eyes twinkling with the same energy you’d seen the night before. “It’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’m sure you and Lucien will make a great team.” 

You smiled back, though your excitement was tempered by a small knot of anxiety that tightened in your stomach as you eyed the horses. You had never ridden a horse before, and the thought of it now, with all eyes on you, made your heart race. You swallowed nervously, trying to steady your breathing. 

The High Lady must have noticed your hesitation, because she tilted her head slightly, a gentle, knowing look in her eyes. “Are you all right?” 

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve… never ridden a horse before,” you confessed, your voice quieter than you intended. It felt almost foolish to admit, especially in front of Lucien, who seemed so at ease in every situation. 

Lucien turned to you, his expression softening with understanding. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said gently. “We’ll take it slow. I’ll help you.” 

The High Lady smiled reassuringly. “Lucien is an excellent rider. You’ll be in good hands.” She shifted the baby on her hip, the little girl squealing happily as if in agreement. “You’ve got this,” she added with an encouraging nod. 

With that, she handed her daughter off to a waiting maid, then turned back to you. “Thank you again for joining us,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth and sincerity. “Take care of each other out there and know that our doors will always be open to you.” She reached out to give you a quick, friendly hug, her embrace brief but comforting. 

You returned the hug, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. “Thank you for everything,” you replied, your voice steady as you pulled back and offered her a small smile. 

Lucien stepped forward then, taking the reins of your horse. “Come on,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’ll help you up.” 

You approached the horse, trying to mask your nervousness as you looked up at the imposing creature. Lucien’s strong hands were there almost immediately, steady and sure, as he placed them on your hips. His touch was warm and surprisingly reassuring, and as he guided you onto the saddle, you found yourself relaxing, if only slightly. 

“Just keep your legs steady and hold onto the reins,” Lucien instructed, his voice calm and encouraging. “I’ll lead you until you’re comfortable.” 

You nodded, gripping the reins tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you settled into the saddle. Lucien gave you a final, reassuring smile before he moved to mount his own horse with practiced ease. Once he was settled, he took your reins in hand, his touch steady as he turned to the High Lady. 

“Take care, both of you,” she called out, her voice bright with affection as she waved to you. “We’ll be waiting for your return.” 

With a nod, Lucien urged his horse forward, and you felt your own mount move beneath you, following his lead. The sensation was strange at first, the rhythmic sway of the horse’s gait unfamiliar, but Lucien’s calm presence kept you grounded. You clutched the reins tightly, your knuckles white, but with each step, the initial terror began to ebb away, replaced by a tentative sense of trust—in Lucien, in the horse, and in yourself. 

As the two of you rode out of the courtyard and into the forest, the High Lady’s figure grew smaller in the distance, her baby’s babbling fading into the morning air. You took a deep breath, the fresh scent of pine filling your lungs, and as the trees closed in around you, you felt the weight of your journey ahead—both the excitement and the unknown. 

Lucien glanced back at you, his eyes catching yours for a brief moment. “You’re doing great,” he said, a note of approval in his voice. And somehow, despite everything, you believed him. 

The path through the forest was peaceful, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of leaves and the steady clop of hooves against the earth. You kept your eyes on the path ahead, trying to focus on the rhythm of your horse’s movements rather than the lingering nervousness in your chest. But as the initial trepidation began to fade, it was slowly replaced by a sense of awe. 

The Autumn Court’s forests were breathtaking, especially in the morning light. The trees towered above you, their leaves a tapestry of red, gold, and orange, some drifting lazily to the ground in a gentle dance. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of fallen leaves and moss. You had always admired the beauty of your homeland, but there was something different about experiencing it from the back of a horse, the world passing by at a pace that allowed you to truly take it all in. 

Every so often, Lucien would glance back at you, his russet eye assessing, as if ensuring you were still comfortable. Each time, you managed a smile, the excitement bubbling up within you outweighing any lingering nerves. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked after a while, his voice cutting through the quiet. 

“I’m… doing okay,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your own voice. It was true—once you adjusted to the sway of the horse and the rhythm of the journey, it wasn’t as frightening as you’d first imagined. In fact, it was almost exhilarating. “This is all so new to me.” 

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I remember my first time leaving the Autumn Court,” he said, his tone a touch nostalgic. “The world seemed so much larger, more vibrant. Every new sight and sound was an adventure.” 

You felt a spark of connection at his words, your own excitement mirrored in his memory. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing more of the world,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “There’s so much out there, so much to explore… But now that I’m actually doing it, I’m realizing how little I know.” 

Lucien’s smile grew, this time more genuine, and he slowed his horse slightly so that you could ride side by side. “That’s part of the adventure,” he said, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. “Not knowing what’s around the next corner, but finding the courage to face it anyway. You’re doing that now, aren’t you?” 

His words settled something within you, a reassurance that you hadn’t realized you needed. You nodded, a small but determined smile on your lips. “I suppose I am.” 

The journey continued, the forest gradually thinning as the path wound its way out of the heart of the Autumn Court. The scenery began to change subtly, the rich hues of autumn slowly giving way to the softer, more muted colors of the borderlands. The trees here were less dense, their leaves a mix of green and yellow, with patches of wildflowers dotting the underbrush. 

You marveled at the shift, your eyes wide as you took in every detail. “It’s amazing how quickly everything changes,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Lucien. 

He heard you anyway and nodded. “The courts are like that. Each one has its own character, its own rhythm. You’ll notice it even more as we get closer to the Spring Court.” 

Your heart quickened at the thought, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooding your chest. You had heard stories of the Spring Court, of its rolling hills and blooming meadows, but to see it for yourself—well, that was a different matter entirely. 

As you rode, Lucien began to share stories of his travels, tales of the courts he had visited, the lands he had seen. His voice was steady, calm, with just a hint of fondness for the memories he recounted. He spoke of the Night Court’s starry skies, the Summer Court’s golden beaches, and even the Winter Court’s icy beauty. You listened intently, hanging on to every word, your imagination painting vivid pictures of places you had only ever dreamed of. 

“What about the Spring Court?” you asked eagerly, your curiosity piqued as the landscape continued to shift around you. “What’s it like there?” 

Lucien’s expression softened, a hint of something almost wistful in his gaze. “The Spring Court is… alive,” he said after a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s all about renewal, growth. Everywhere you look, there’s something blooming, something green and vibrant. It’s a place where everything feels fresh, like the world is waking up after a long sleep.” 

The way he described it made your heart ache with anticipation. The idea of such a place—a world so full of life and color—was almost too much to believe. You found yourself leaning forward slightly in the saddle, eager to catch the first glimpse of this new land. 

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the borderlands gave way to rolling hills, and the forest thinned even more. The ground beneath the horses’ hooves grew softer, the earth rich and loamy, and the air took on a fresh, sweet scent. You could sense the change coming, your excitement mounting with every step. 

And then, finally, you crossed the border into the Spring Court. 

The transition was almost imperceptible at first, just a gradual softening of the landscape. But then the world seemed to explode with color. The trees here were different, their leaves a lush, vibrant green, with blossoms of every hue peeking out from between the branches. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, their petals a riot of pinks, purples, and yellows, and the air was filled with the gentle hum of bees and the sweet trill of birdsong. 

You inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh blooms and damp earth filling your lungs. It was as if the entire world had come alive, every sense tingling with the sheer abundance of life around you. 

“This is incredible,” you breathed, unable to keep the awe from your voice. You turned to Lucien, your eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

Lucien’s gaze softened as he watched you, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s something, isn’t it?” he agreed, his voice warm. “The Spring Court is unique in that way. It’s… comforting, in its own way.” 

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the landscape as you continued to ride. Everywhere you looked, there was something new to marvel at—a babbling brook winding its way through a field of wildflowers, a pair of deer grazing in the distance, their coats dappled with sunlight. It was almost too much to take in all at once, but you didn’t mind. This was what you had always dreamed of—discovering new places, seeing the world beyond the Autumn Court. 

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the vibrant landscape of the Spring Court, the mood between you and Lucien began to shift. The closer you got to Tamlin’s manor, the more the warmth that had marked your earlier journey seemed to drain from Lucien. His previously relaxed posture stiffened, and his jaw set in a hard line, the cheerful tone of his earlier stories giving way to terse, monosyllabic responses. 

You couldn’t help but notice the change. Where before he had been engaging, almost amiable, now he was quiet, brooding. It was as if the very air around him had grown colder, darker, as if the beautiful scenery you were passing through no longer held any joy for him. The Spring Court’s rolling hills and lush greenery, which had filled you with wonder, seemed to be nothing more than a reminder of something painful to him. 

Your earlier excitement began to dim, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. You had caught glimpses of this side of Lucien before—the guarded, distant mask he wore when he spoke of certain topics—but never had it been so pronounced. It was as if the closer you got to Tamlin’s manor, the more he retreated into himself, shutting you out completely. 

The manor came into view just as the sun touched the horizon, its golden light casting the grand building in a warm, almost ethereal glow. Tamlin’s manor was a masterpiece of architecture, with ivy-clad walls, towering spires, and large, arched windows that reflected the fading light like molten gold. Yet, despite its beauty, the sight of it only seemed to deepen the shadows in Lucien’s eyes. 

He dismounted his horse with a swiftness that startled you, his movements sharp and almost mechanical. When he turned to help you down, his touch was no longer gentle, but brisk and impersonal, his gaze avoiding yours. The connection you had begun to feel with him on the journey seemed to evaporate, replaced by a wall of cold indifference that left you feeling more alone than ever. 

A maid was already waiting for you at the entrance of the manor, her apron pristine, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She was a slender woman with a kind face, her eyes sharp and discerning as she took in the sight of you and Lucien. 

“Welcome,” she said warmly, her voice a stark contrast to the chill that had settled over your companion. “I’m Alice, the head maid here. I’ll be taking care of you during your stay.” 

You forced a smile, grateful for her kindness even as you struggled with the tension that had descended on your little party. “Thank you, Alice. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Alice’s gaze flicked to Lucien, her smile fading slightly as she took in his dark expression. “Tamlin is unlikely to show while you’re here,” she informed him, her tone gentler now, almost apologetic. “He’s… otherwise occupied.” 

Lucien’s only response was a curt nod, his face a mask of indifference. The warmth you had glimpsed in him during your journey was completely gone, replaced by something cold and unyielding. It was as if the man who had shared stories with you, who had encouraged you and made you feel safe, had vanished entirely, leaving behind only a hollow shell. 

As Alice led you both inside, Lucien’s familiarity with the manor became immediately apparent. His steps were sure, unhesitating, as if he knew every twist and turn of the grand corridors. He moved through the manor with a practiced ease, his eyes never lingering on the ornate decorations or the large portraits that lined the walls—things that might have captured your attention, but which seemed to hold no interest for him. 

He guided you down a series of hallways with the confidence of someone who had once called this place home. The silence between you only heightened the sense of tension, each step echoing in the vast, empty space. You could sense the memories that clung to the walls of this manor for him, and while he didn’t speak of them, you could see them in the way his shoulders tensed, in the tightness of his jaw. 

Finally, Alice stopped in front of a set of large, intricately carved doors. “These will be your rooms,” she said, turning to you with a kind smile. “Dinner will be served in an hour, but if you prefer, I can have something brought to your room.” 

You thanked her, but your attention was still on Lucien, who had retreated so far into himself that he seemed like a different person entirely. There was a fleeting moment where he glanced at the door to your room, recognition flickering in his eyes, as if the memories of the time he had spent here threatened to overwhelm him. But just as quickly as the emotion appeared, it vanished, his face hardening into the mask you had come to dread. 

“Lucien…” you began, unsure of what to say, but desperate to reach him somehow. 

He didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the door in front of him. “Rest,” he said curtly. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps just as sure as before, taking him deeper into the manor that had once been his home. You watched him go, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. The man who had guided you here with such care and patience was gone, replaced by someone cold and distant. You could only hope that, in time, he would come back to you, and that you could find a way to break through the darkness that had settled over him. 

As you entered your room and closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead. This journey, which had started with such promise, was beginning to reveal the shadows that lurked just beneath the surface. And you knew that if you were to succeed, you would need to find a way to navigate not just the courts, but the complex emotions that came with them. 

With a sigh, you settled into the plush bed, the softness of the linens a stark contrast to the tension that had wrapped itself around your heart. 

The manor was quiet, the kind of deep silence that only comes in the dead of night, when even the wind seems to hold its breath. You had been sleeping fitfully, your mind still lingering on the events of the day, but something stirred you from your uneasy rest. It was faint at first, just the muffled sound of voices carrying through the thick walls of the manor. 

You sat up, your heart thudding in your chest as you strained to listen. The voices were coming from somewhere close, just beyond your room. One of them was unmistakably Lucien’s, the low timbre of his voice rising and falling with emotion. The other voice, sharp and biting, belonged to someone you hadn’t met but could easily identify—Tamlin, the High Lord of the Spring Court. 

Curiosity and concern gnawed at you, pulling you from the comfort of the bed. You slipped quietly out of the sheets, your bare feet padding softly across the cold floor as you moved closer to the door. Pressing your ear to the wooden surface, you caught the tail end of their conversation. 

“…can’t keep doing this, Tamlin,” Lucien was saying, his voice tight with frustration. “You need to let go—holding onto this anger, this guilt, it’s tearing you apart.” 

A pause, then Tamlin’s voice, laced with bitterness. “What do you know of guilt, Lucien? You who left this court without a second thought, who turned your back on your home, on your people. Don’t lecture me on how to live with the choices I’ve made.” 

Lucien’s response was firm, but there was an edge of hurt in it. “I never wanted to leave, and you know that. But I couldn’t stay—not after everything that happened. And it’s not just about me anymore, Tamlin. I have responsibilities, people who need me.” 

Tamlin’s laugh was a harsh, mirthless sound. “Responsibilities? You mean your precious Night Court and your… mate? Is that what this is about? You running off to play hero for a court that isn’t yours, all because a pretty girl asked you to? Pathetic.” 

The mention of Lucien’s mate sent a jolt through you. Elain. You knew enough of her to understand the weight that name carried for him, but hearing Tamlin speak of her so callously made your blood boil. You could almost feel Lucien’s tension from where you stood, the barely restrained anger in his silence. 

When Lucien finally spoke, his voice was low, controlled, but there was an unmistakable danger in it. “Don’t speak of her. You have no right.” 

“Why? Because she’s your mate?” Tamlin’s voice dripped with derision. “Tell me, Lucien, how does it feel to be bound to someone who doesn’t want you? Someone who didn’t ask for this—just like she didn’t ask for anything that happened to her. You think following her around like a lost puppy is going to win her over? She’ll never love you, Lucien. Not like that.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. You could almost hear Lucien’s heart breaking, the words cutting deeper than any blade could. 

Then, with a coldness that sent shivers down your spine, Lucien spoke again. “I’m done here, Tamlin. If you want to wallow in your misery, fine. But I won’t be part of it anymore.” 

You heard footsteps, heavy and determined, heading in your direction. Panic seized you, and you scrambled back to bed, throwing yourself under the covers and squeezing your eyes shut just as the door to your room creaked open. 

You kept your breathing steady, feigning sleep, but you could feel Lucien’s presence in the room, his gaze lingering on you. There was a long pause, as if he was debating whether to wake you or let you rest. Finally, he crossed the room, his footsteps soft but deliberate. 

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. “We need to leave. Now.” 

You didn’t move, keeping your breathing slow and even, hoping he would believe you were still asleep. Another pause, then a soft sigh. 

“Sorry about this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “I’ll explain later.” 

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a gentle shake that roused you—or at least, made it seem like you were just waking up. You blinked groggily, playing the part as best as you could, though your mind was racing with everything you had overheard. 

“Lucien?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep. “What’s happening?” 

“We’re leaving,” he said simply, his tone brisk but not unkind. “Something’s come up, and we need to head to the Summer Court right away.” 

You didn’t protest, though your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and concern. You let him help you out of bed, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, as if he was grounding himself in the simple act of guiding you. There was a tension in his posture, a weariness that hadn’t been there before, and it made your heart ache for him. 

He was quiet as you both gathered your things, his movements efficient and practiced, as though he had done this a hundred times before. You wondered how many nights he had spent like this—leaving in the dead of night, running from something or someone, never staying long enough to feel safe. 

You followed him out of the room, down the silent hallways of the manor that had once been his home. He moved with a familiarity that only deepened your sadness for him, every turn and every step a reminder of the life he had left behind. But there was no nostalgia in his movements now, only a grim determination to put as much distance between him and this place as possible. 

Outside, the night was cool and still, the stars a faint glimmer against the dark sky. The horses were waiting, saddled and ready, as if Lucien had anticipated this departure. He helped you mount, his hands firm but gentle on your hips, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers lingered, as if seeking reassurance in the contact. 

He mounted his own horse with a practiced ease, taking the reins of your horse once more, just as he had when you first set out from the Autumn Court. But this time, there was no light banter, no stories to pass the time. The night was heavy with unspoken words, the silence between you filled with all the things you both were too afraid to say. 

As the manor faded into the distance behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. You didn’t know what lay ahead in the Summer Court, but you knew that whatever it was, it would be easier to face than the ghosts that haunted Lucien in the place he once called home. 

And as you rode through the night, the only sounds were the rhythmic thud of hooves against the earth and the whisper of the wind through the trees, you silently vowed to find a way to help him, to reach past the walls he had built and find the man who had once let you see the warmth beneath. 

For now, though, all you could do was follow him into the darkness, hoping that the light you had seen in him earlier was not lost forever. 

TAGLIATELLE

@littlest-w01f @rcarbo1 @mirandasidefics @thelov3lybookworm @lilah-asteria @megscabinetofcurios

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Four

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

The day he had started to dread was upon him, the day he and his family would visit the Court of Nightmares, he had no idea what he was to expect in Hewn City, the home to the horrible folks who loved being there.

Nyx sat up in his bed, removing his covers and looking out to the darkness of the Night Court, his room in the Riverhouse was gigantic, beautiful and every inch of it held a homey warmth. It was a massive expanse filled with rich hues of purple and blue, glittery shimmer on the room's roof, mimicking the night sky outside, painted by her mother when he was just a babe, preserved in his ceiling forever.

He slipped off from his bed, a large window overlooks the city below, casting a soft glow of moonlight onto the plush carpet beneath his feet, he groaned as he stretched his wings behind his back, letting them flex, he curled his wings around himself to shield the expansion of his chest from the cold air in his room.

His bedroom had its walls adorned with paintings depicting different landscapes and mythical creatures from various cultures. There was also a grand canopy bed draped in luxurious silk sheets that matched perfectly with the room, royal blues and purples with silver accents. On one side stood a full-length mirror framed elegantly in gold leaf while opposite to this stood another door leading further into the house.

In front of the window was a sitting area furnished comfortably with couches covered in velvet fabric and scattered throw pillows embroidered intricately in black threadwork patterns reminiscent of stars against night skies. Atop an ornate mahogany table sat several books about astronomy and mythology and sketches depicting various celestial bodies and creatures from folklore.

Nyx gazed out at the shadowed expanse of the Night Court beyond his window as he walked into the balcony, faerie lights lighting up The Rainbow and the streets leading to it, the Sidra rippling gently under the moonlight filtering through the beautiful city. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he contemplated the unsettling encounter that awaited him and his family later that morning. He had heard nothing but the worst of Kier and the people like him who resided there.

As Nyx stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped him, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming jasmine and the distant aroma of the Sidra river. The faerie lights lining the streets cast an ethereal glow over the city, making it seem almost magical despite the ominous tales surrounding the Night Court. The gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank created a soothing melody that contrasted sharply with the unease churning in Nyx's stomach.

His skin glowed with a natural luminescence, highlighting the intricate tattoos that snaked across his shoulders and arms, telling tales quite similar to what his father and uncles had experienced. Each line and curve of the markings added depth to his already imposing physique.

His wings, folded neatly against his back, shimmered subtly under the faerie lights illuminating the balcony. They were large and powerful, the leathery texture of them not hard to see with how polished they were.

As he pondered the unknown terrors of Hewn City, Nyx's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his mother's soft voice calling up from downstairs, making him lean over the balcony to see her. "Nyx, dear! We have a big day ahead of us, come have something to eat."

"Coming, Ma!" With a heavy sigh, Nyx reluctantly pulled himself away from watching the sun rise in the Night Court over the Illyrian mountains and threw on a shirt.

Diving from the balcony, wings spread completely to land headfirst in the dining room. "Mornin'."

"Cauldron, Nyx!" Mor yelped as Nyx appeared in front of his aunt, his uncle Azriel's shadows hiding him well, the male in question was watching in amusement, taking a finger-full from a bowl of melted chocolate she would be adding to some pastries. "Get back here you horrible child!"

"But I'm such an innocent babe," Nyx pouted and made a run for it around the room as he licked his fingers clean, his mother and father laughing at Mor throwing her apron at his face then glaring at the couple, while Cassian carried Nesta bridal style to another of the little chaoses Nyx had been causing since before he was born.

After breakfast, the sun had risen up, and Nyx stood outside his giant wardrobe, thinking about what to wear, he certainly didn't want to be too comfortable.

Nyx opened the massive wardrobe doors, revealing rows upon rows of clothing tailored specifically for his physique. Leathers of armour designed to accommodate his wings, tunics suited for nothing less than the Heir of Night, and trousers reinforced with magic to withstand the flexibility he needed to move and fight.

He scanned the options, and finally, after much deliberation, he settled on a set of dark grey leather breeches that hugged his muscular legs tightly. Over this, he donned a snug vest of Illyrian leathers that did little to hide the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen through the fabric.

A belt adorned with an intricate pattern encircled his waist, holding up both his trousers and a pair of knee-high boots crafted from supple black leather, on the leathers of the back of his hands sat two twin black Siphons. They were symbols of his lineage and his heritage, the power of distruction.

He heard a knock on his door and made his way to open it, seeing his father outside, "Da?"

"No." Rhysand said instantly seeing Nyx's attire, the Illyrian leathers, the Siphon, "You're not wearing that."

Nyx crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "It’s appropriate for the place, is it not?"

"I know that look," Rhysand muttered under his breath, stepping past his son and into the room. His gaze swept over Nyx's outfit critically before landing on the siphons etched into the leather at the back of his hand. Rhysand sighed heavily, running a hand through his onxy hair. "But you're my heir, not my warrior."

"You’re going to be meeting some very important people today, Nyx. You need to make a good impression," He explained patiently.

Rhysand went through Nyx's clothes and pulled out a fitted black tunic with intricate silver embroidery at the collar and hem. The ensemble struck a balance between practicality and elegance, suitable for the formal yet unpredictable nature of the occasion ahead.

Nyx watched his father's actions silently, though inwardly he was bristling at being treated like a child. Still, he knew better than to argue further, especially when it came to matters of etiquette and presentation. He let out a sigh of resignation as he allowed his father to give him a change to a more appropriate attire.

He selected a pair of knee-high black leather boots with silver buckles and fastened them securely to his legs. He then donned a wide belt adorned with a silver buckle in the shape of a crescent moon.

The fitted black tunic felt strange against his skin at first, the silver embroidery at the collar and hem added an elegant touch without detracting from the overall simplicity of the outfit. His wings melting into himself, not suited for the tunic he wore before slipping his feet into the knee-high boots with silver buckles.

Rhysand watched his son, dressed in clothes appropriate for an Heir, and gave him a smile, "Now you look like the Heir, remember, the people in the Court of Nightmares will be expecting you, you can not show them any weakness."

Nyx nodded, with a deep breath, his features sharpened, his eyes void of emotion as Rhysand motioned to his door, just as cold, "Come now, your mother is waiting."

The moment Nyx stepped foot into the Court of Nightmares, he was immediately struck by the biting cold that seeped into his bones. It was as if the very essence of the realm itself was designed to chill one to the marrow. The air was heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient stone beneath their feet as they navigated the twisting corridors.

Glowing orbs of an unearthly blue hue, suspended mid-air by magic, provided the only illumination, casting an otherworldly pallor across the scene. The walls, constructed from a labyrinthine network of obsidian and jet-black marble, seemed to absorb what little light managed to penetrate, leaving everything shrouded in an impenetrable darkness that pressed in from all sides.

As Nyx followed his family deeper into the Court of Nightmares, they approached the imposing gates that marked the entrance to the castle. Carved from a single block of black stone, the massive doors depicted a scene of primordial chaos, great, scaled beasts coiled together in a nest of claws and fangs, locked in a perpetual cycle of combat. The creatures appeared to be devouring each other even as they slept, their forms blurring together in a macabre dance of death.

Yet, amidst this tableau of darkness and destruction, there was an unexpected beauty. Vines of jasmine and moonflowers wound their way through the coils of the beasts, their delicate petals glowing softly in the dim light.

His aunt Morrigan entered first, the throne room falling silent, his uncles and aunt Nesta, all of them had a coldness that he could feel in his bones, he'd be with his parents, with a deep breath he walked by his father's side, both of his parents had a crown made of starts on their heads, his father's features were distant, like he was a different person, like his mother was too.

Nyx's heart pounded in his chest as he followed his parents into the grand throne room. His gaze darted around, taking in every detail of the courtiers gathered there. Despite the palpable tension hanging in the air, he noticed a certain kind of reverence in their demeanour towards his parents, a respect born out of fear.

Morrigan, clad in a gown of deepest red, strode in first, her presence commanding the immediate attention of everyone present. Her eyes met Nyx's briefly, and he felt a chill run down his spine. All of them had a regal bearing about them, exuding an aura of authority that was almost tangible.

Nyx zoned out as his parents sat on their throne and he stood beside them, the people of the Hewn City kneeling to them, his eyes landed on a young female among the crown, porcelain skin that seemed almost translucent in its paleness, too pale to be healthy, with black hair down her back, the dress she wore was the same raven black as her hair, the dress was nothing fancy, at least not compared to the silver he wore, but he couldn't help keep his eyes off her.

As the kneeling courtiers rose, there was something hauntingly captivating about her, something that drew Nyx in despite himself. Her eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of recognition. It was as if he knew her somehow, despite never having laid eyes on her before. A curious sensation stirred within him, a feeling he couldn't quite place. But amid the sea of faces, hers was the only one that held his interest.

As his father ordered them to relax and mingle, he turned to his parents, mostly his mother, "May I go too?" He asked, his uncaring look not wavering.

His mother gave him a soft smile, "Of course you may, Nyx," she nodded, people were drinking, dancing, talking, and his uncle Azriel had disappeared into the room, Cassian and Nesta dancing to themselves, Mor talking with Kier with a look of boredom clear on her face as they walked to his parents with another male beside them.

He knocked into someone far smaller than him while he was distracted by the males around his parents and aunt, his hands shot out instinctively, "Oh, apologies, I didn't know where I was..." His gaze met the dark blackhole-like eyes of the female he had been looking at, her hand gripping onto his, slightly tilted from tripping half way. "Hello." He smiled.

"Hi..." The female watched his face, probably gauging his reaction Nyx thought.

"I'm Nyx," He offered a smile hoping it would make him come off as friendly.

"I know who you are, my lord," The female put some distance between them, giving him a little courtesy.

Nyx's eyes went as she saw her bow for him, "Oh, none of that please," He couldn't hide his cringe and looked away. "You don't need to do... That."

"It's just a smile courtesy," She laughed and he was sure he had heard it before somewhere, "I'm no fool to not show respect to the Heir of Night."

"Well, then, would you like a dance?" Nyx asked, turning to face her. "Just to one song." He offered her his hand and gave her a cheeky grin, "To respect me, of course."

The female paused to think for a moment, and then her eyeliner went by him, probably to the diaz where a conversation Nyx couldn't find in himself to care about was going.

"Of course," She rested her hand on his, the corner of her lip tilted up just slightly and Nyx counted that as a smile.

{General - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Meeting in Grey - @sleepylunarwolf @achaotichuman @sarawritestories @bakananya @sheblogs @anuttellaa}

[slitheringghost]

Rant about your favorite pairing

Forgetting the romantic shipping lens because it's not important - Lily and Voldemort are portrayed as symbolic brother and sister the same way Harry and Voldemort are "brothers" and this is a really, really formative and significant part of the text that most people don't notice.

I've written some metas about this already (Unweaving Canon Lily: Parallels to Voldemort, And Cain Repented Not Of What He Had Done: Harry Potter as Retelling of Cain and Abel) and I plan to write more thorough ones in the future, for now I'm just going to point out the most telling scenes of how Lily and Voldemort are portrayed as familial.

I.0 Lily and Harry as Voldemort’s Mirror of Erised

Many times you have to use parallels and connections from other parts of the text to unweave what the text is saying i.e. the parallels to the Mirror of Erised with how Diary!Tom looks at Harry establishes them as familial and as reflections:

The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. (PS) All the time he spoke, Riddle’s eyes never left Harry’s face. There was an almost hungry look in them. (CoS) They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror (PS) He looked into Harry’s face. “But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter…” (CoS) Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all. (PS) “I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” (CoS)

And it's the same thing with Voldemort and Lily, because the text describes Lily as Voldemort's Mirror of Erised, just as it does for Harry in CoS - and to display this we have the parallels during the Potters’ death scene:

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. (PS) He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand (DH)

This tells us that Harry’s room, the room where Voldemort murders Lily and is vanquished, is akin to the room with the Mirror of Erised for Voldemort - and it’s not just Harry in that room, it’s also Lily.

And now the language used for Lily from Voldemort's POV parallels the Mirror of Erised:

he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him. [...] There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. [...] He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving.” [...] “The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her.” And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. “Can you see all your family standing around you?” “Yes and no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you.” (PS)

Note the repetition of the word "standing", and of phrases like "there he was, and there, reflected behind him, were ten others" "and there were [his family]"

And here's the most direct parallel of them all:

“It’s here — just here — yes!” They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the Cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror. There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him. (PS) He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand... and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead The child had not cried all this time: He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder’s face with a kind of bright interest And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda’s house, immersed in memories of his greatest loss, and at his feet the great snake slithered over broken china and glass... (DH)

Lily's described as “and there she stood”, Harry as “he could stand", Voldemort as “And now he stood" - because Lily and Harry are his “sister” and his “brother” standing around him, both are his family standing all around him, exactly like the Mirror of Erised.

Harry pushes the door and - there they are, his mother and his father. Voldemort forces the door open and - there they are, his sister and his brother. (It does use similar language for Grindelwald that has a different meaning - there he was, the unknown thief, the thief he was seeking - because the text also parallels Lily and Grindelwald and implies Lily as the true Master of Death and master of the wand - I'll elaborate on that in other metas too).

The broken china and glass evokes the glass of the Mirror, and additionally, Lily's face is covered by her hair (A door opened and the mother entered, her long dark hair falling over her face) - because I show not your face but your heart's desire. Lily is described as Voldemort's "one last hope for himself" and when Harry finds the room with the Mirror, it says "A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope" as a reference to Lily, lilies being the "white-robed apostles of hope, again establishing Lily as the Mirror of Erised for Voldemort).

II. Voldemort’s True Family Returns

In the graveyard scene in GoF, Voldemort brings Lily up unprompted in between of when he says "How many will be brave enough to return" and "My true family returns". And then Voldemort's "true family" does return - the sister he killed:

“How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?” he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. “And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?” He began to pace up and down before Harry and Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Harry again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. “You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death...” [...] “You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was... He didn’t like magic, my father... “He left her and returned to “to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... Tom Riddle...” [...] “Listen to me, reliving family history...” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look, Harry! My true family returns...”

And she came… first her head, then her body… a young woman with long hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband. She walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear... “When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments... but we will give you time... you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts... do you understand, Harry?”

Lily, too, like Voldemort says of his father, is proving herself "useful in death" - she's come to save Harry from beyond the grave, and she's Voldemort's true family returning.