#the most dazzling of gems

[gierosajie]

Do you think Dvalin ever felt horrible about himself, how his wounds and the poison left permanent marks on his form, left him feeling like he's lost his former lustre

And Venti reassuring him still, "you're so beautiful," always looking at him like nothing could compare

[fushitoru]

chapter 7: the rebound a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

Once again, dear Reader, this humble Author finds herself vindicated. Country house parties, as ever, remain the fertile soil from which the most delicious scandals bloom. And today’s revelation is no exception.

Yes, indeed, you read it here first: the dashing and ever-elusive Lord Satoru Gojo will not be marrying Miss Itadori, this season’s most celebrated diamond. The murmurs have already begun spreading like wildfire, bringing sighs of relief from hopeful ladies and knowing smirks from their watchful chaperones. The eligible Duke-to-be’s sudden return to certified bachelorhood is, no doubt, a development many find most agreeable.

But what, pray, has caused this sudden turn of events? The dissolution of an arrangement so seemingly perfect? Alas, even this Author—a tireless seeker of truths—has found the particulars elusive. Was it a clash of personalities? A misstep at the ball? Or perhaps, a secret grievance unearthed during those long, candlelit evenings at the country estate?

What this Author can confirm is that the ballroom whispers point to Lord Gojo’s own doing, based upon the countenances and actions of the pair at the ball. Did the ever-charming lord tire of his diamond’s sparkle, or has he found a more alluring treasure elsewhere? The possibilities are endless, and so, it seems, is the intrigue surrounding the pair.

One thing remains certain: while Miss Itadori may have stumbled in this engagement, she remains a diamond among gems—brilliant, resilient, and admired. What paths now await her are anyone’s guess, but if this Author knows anything, it is that diamonds shine brightest under pressure.

As for Lord Gojo, the question lingers: will his rakish reputation survive this latest scandal unscathed? Or has he, at last, met a match too dazzling even for him to outshine? Rest assured, dear Reader, this Author will remain ever-vigilant, pen poised and ready to uncover the truth.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

You could have had a bit more tact when informing Sukuna of the events of the past few days, for the reaction you gained made you realize that you may have made a misstep.

“What?!” Sukuna roared, looking at the three of you with fury. Yuji jumped, while you and Choso grimaced.  “He did what?!”

“Now, now, brother,” Choso stood up nervously to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. “It is all good and well, for I have arranged for a better match for our dear sister—”

“A duel!” Sukuna bellowed, standing up from his seat on the couch to stomp his way to the door. “I will challenge that Gojo fellow to a duel—” It was only until Yuji ran and tackled him to the ground that he was waylaid to God knows what he was going to do to Lord Gojo. You and Choso could only watch the scene, too perforce to the strength of bulls that your brothers had to be able to interrupt. 

A few scratches and awfully purple looking bruises later, Sukuna and Yuji were seated on the couch once again, thanks to Choso’s plead for nonviolence. It was then that Choso started explaining what had occurred in the season so far. “Mother insisted,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She seemed to have struck a mutual…entente with the Duchess of Gojo. It was only a matter of time before Mother forced her ways. Now that it has not redound in her favor, I have even more rationale to have my…way with Sister’s matches. For God’s sake, Sukuna stop glaring at me Mother left me behind on the first ball—”

Sukuna did not stop glaring; in fact, he chose that moment to take a long slurp of his tea while staring fiercely at him while Choso shifted nervously. After a long bout of silence, he finally offered, “I understand Mother can be very pushy, and that you, Choso, are not fierce enough to withstand her.” Choso did not even protest, just offered a deadpan. “But I, however, will not be a feather to a simple blow of the wind that Mother is. It is time our dear sister lived up to her reputation, what she has prepared so hard for.” He looks upon you with a soft gaze—that is, a soft gaze for Sukuna. “No matter how tactless Gojo’s estrangement was, Sister will recover, so long as her morale has not lessened.  Sukuna’s head turned sharply to you, “It has not weakened, right Sister? He has not left you heartbroken?”

You could hear your heart as you looked at your brother, dumbfounded. His perceptive gaze disarmed you, but you blurted out a “Of course not” and turned to hastily grab a pastry from the table next to the loveseat you were seated at.. When you looked back at your brother, you jumped as his gaze lingered on you then nonetheless turned to glare at your brother when Yuji opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to irritatedly remark on his denseness.

No matter, you think to yourself. Whatever you feel about Gojo is of no matter. The visit at the manor was only a delay and a small obstacle for your season. It was time to attend to the matter at hand: finding a husband. 

The dewy grass kissed the hem of your nightgown as you wandered to the old swing set on the far edge of the manor grounds—a relic of your childhood, weathered but enduring. The creak of the chains was a sound that had long since embedded itself in your memory, a reminder of simpler days when duty had yet to tighten its grip.

You had not been able to sleep.

The house was still, the hush of midnight settling over its grand halls and sprawling grounds. Yet sleep evaded you, your thoughts as restless as the autumn breeze that stirred the curtains of your chamber. In the quiet, the weight of your obligations pressed heavily upon you, a familiar but unwelcome companion. Deciding that solitude under the stars might grant clarity where the confines of your room could not, you slipped on a shawl and had ventured outside.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing. He was seated on a swing with his big frame illustrating a comical sight on the small seat. His silhouette was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of his cigarillo, and the faint ember cast fleeting shadows across his sharp features, making his smirk all the more pronounced.

The unexpected sight of him startled you for a moment, though you quickly masked your surprise. You drew your shawl tighter around your shoulders, the chill of the night settling into your skin, and stepped closer. “And here I thought I was the only one who sought refuge in our old playground at such an hour,” you replied lightly, though your voice carried the faint weight of sleeplessness. “What brings you here?”

He took a long, deliberate drag from the cigarillo before discarding it into the damp grass, the embers hissing softly as they extinguished. Straightening, he gestured to the empty swing beside him. “Thinking,” he said simply. “And you? Or do I even need to ask?”

You hesitated for only a moment before lowering yourself onto the swing, your fingers grazing the cold chains as you pushed back slightly. The seat creaked beneath your weight, swaying gently with your movements. The motion stirred a familiar ache of nostalgia—a reminder of days when life felt less complicated. “What else could it be but the endless circus of expectations Mother has so kindly bestowed upon me?”

The bitterness in your tone was impossible to conceal, and Sukuna chuckled darkly. He reached up to push a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements purposeful, almost theatrical. “Ah, yes,” he said mockingly. “The marriage parade. The grand auctioning of one’s life for the sake of the family name. What a fine role you’ve been cast in, dear sister. I don’t envy you.”

You gave a dry laugh, your voice quiet yet tinged with resolve. “Unfortunately, dear brother,” you began, staring into the star-dappled sky, “it is my duty to be wed.”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brow furrowing. “It is not your duty, least of all when it robs you of your freedom.”

A protest began to form on his lips, but you held up a hand, your expression soft yet resolute. “Let me finish,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “If I were to grow old into a spinster, there would be no one to take care of me. You and Yuji would inherit our lands and manors, and Choso is the viscount; there would be no space for me except with some of our aunts.”

At the mention of your aunts, both of you shuddered involuntarily. The thought of their overbearing presence, their sharp tongues and endless criticisms, was enough to unite even the most quarrelsome of siblings.

“You cannot take care of me forever,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. The swing swayed faintly as you spoke, the motion as restless as your thoughts. “One day, you—or any of our brothers—might choose to start a family with someone you love. It would be intrusive of me to remain dependent on you all.”

Sukuna scoffed, his voice rising slightly with indignation. “You know better than anyone that I aim to travel the world. I cannot be chained to a family or a manor—not now, not ever.”

You turned to him, your eyes softening as you regarded his familiar fire, the same defiance that had always set him apart from the others. “Sukuna,” you said gently, your voice tinged with fondness, “you may do as you please, and I would never wish to impede you. But I cannot rely on you indefinitely. You deserve to live freely, to make your own choices without the burden of my future weighing on your conscience.”

Once again, silence enveloped you both, broken only by the faint creak of the swings and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, Sukuna eventually broke the quiet with a heavy sigh. “Then we must make sure to do well and find you a husband on your terms.”

You turned to him, brow arched in curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, “that you must stop playing the part Mother has assigned you. Demure and meek may be what she wants, but it’s hardly the truth of you. Besides,” he added, leaning closer as if to share a conspiracy, “do you think the kind of husband you’d want would fall for such a facade?”

His words caught you off guard, and you frowned slightly. “Are you implying I’m to frighten potential suitors away?”

“Not frighten,” Sukuna corrected, his tone amused. “But consider this: if a man is drawn to meekness, might that not suggest he wishes to dominate or control? Would you truly wish to tether yourself to such a person? Or would you rather find someone who can appreciate your independence, who will meet you as an equal?”

His reasoning gave you pause. The image of a husband who might respect your will, who might value the sharpness of your mind and the strength of your character, was tempting—if not entirely what you needed. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest I go about finding such a man?”

Sukuna’s grin widened. “Start by being yourself, unapologetically. Let them see the wit, the fire, the resolve that I know so well. Let them see you, and if they can’t handle it, then they aren’t worth your time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart lighter from his words. After all, this scheming was due on your part; you were only grateful this shift occurred with Sukuna as your humble advisor. “It’s a daring plan, brother. Let us hope it does not lead to my complete social ruin.”

Sukuna laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “If it does, then you shall travel the world with me. Who needs societal approval when there’s an entire world to explore?”

For a moment, the weight of your burdens felt a little easier to bear. Under the vast, starlit sky, you allowed yourself to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a future where duty and happiness could coexist.

Despite the peace conversing with Sukuna had granted you, sleep evaded you still, leaving you to roll onto your side, the cool fabric of the pillow offering no solace. Your thoughts had been louder than ever these past weeks, and one name in particular echoed through your mind like a stubborn refrain: Gojo.

His face came unbidden, as vivid as if he were standing at the foot of your bed. That insufferable smirk, the casual way he tilted his head as if always in on some grand secret. He saw through you—that much was undeniable, no matter how much you abhorred it. It wasn’t just the way his piercing gaze seemed to cut through your defenses, stripping away the layers of pleasantries and propriety until you were left exposed. It was his words, too—sharp, direct, and unyielding. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t content to let you be the demure and dutiful daughter your mother had so painstakingly sculpted.

You turned onto your back, staring up at the shadowed canopy above, the weight of his judgment pressing against your chest. “He wouldn’t want to marry me either,” you thought bitterly, biting your lip to suppress a laugh that was more self-deprecating than amused. Why would he? I am only but a pathological people-pleaser—a woman who smiles and nods and folds herself into whatever shape is required of her. It was a role you had perfected, a mask you wore so often that you sometimes forgot it wasn’t your face. And yet, he saw through it.

That was the part that unsettled you most—not his arrogance, not his sharp tongue, but his ability to cut through your defenses as though they were paper. He saw you, in all your contradictions and uncertainties, and somehow, you suspected that he pitied you for them. Or worse, respected you less for it.

Your stomach twisted at the thought, and you turned onto your other side, burying your face into the pillow. No wonder I’m still unmarried. The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel. What man would want a wife who couldn’t even decide who she wanted to be?

But that wasn’t fair—not entirely. You had a plan, didn’t you? A bold, liberating plan that would take you far from the shadow of your mother’s expectations. You could already picture her face when you told her—calm, composed, and quietly furious, as though your refusal to obey were a personal affront. The thought brought the faintest flicker of satisfaction, but it was fleeting.

The plan wasn’t perfect, nor was it foolproof. It hinged on one pivotal point: finding a husband who could be an equal partner rather than a master. A man who could grant you the freedom to forge your own path in peace, without the constant weight of disapproval bearing down on you.

Your thoughts wandered to Duke Nanami. Equal in power to Gojo, fair-minded, and kind—a man with no appetite for games or artifice. If you manage to secure a match with him, the ton would not view your…blunder with Gojo with such amusement. Insofar your interactions this season, he had always treated you with quiet respect, never pressing you into conversations you didn’t wish to have or cornering you with expectations. He would be a good man to marry, you thought. A safe choice.

And yet, even as you considered him, Gojo’s face intruded once more, unwelcome and unavoidable. Duke Nanami was everything Gojo wasn’t—measured, steady, predictable. But it was Gojo who set your mind alight, who made you question things you had long accepted as unchangeable truths. He irritated you, challenged you, unnerved you in a way no one else did.

You sighed, turning again, the sheets tangling around your legs like restraints. The very fact that Gojo occupied your thoughts at all was infuriating. He had no place there, no right to linger in the quiet moments when you were supposed to find peace. And yet, here he was, as persistent in your mind as he was in person.

The plan. You needed to focus on the plan. Liberating yourself from your mother’s expectations wasn’t about Gojo or Duke Nanami or anyone else. It was about reclaiming yourself, about becoming a woman who didn’t need to twist herself into shapes for anyone—not your mother, not a potential husband, and certainly not Gojo.

And it would start at your wardrobe.

You give the most polite smile you can muster, but you do not need the mirror in front of you to know that your countenance is strained, the edges of your smile not reaching your eyes. “Lower it even further.”

A beat passes in the room as the modiste, your mother, and Sukuna stare at you in incredulity.  The bustline to your dress is low. Of course, it is not yet teetering on the edge of what is socially acceptable, and that is the position you want it to be. Hence, you gesture to Sukuna, prompting him to regain his senses and snap his head towards Momo. “Please attend to my sister’s request.”

You could smell what you mother was about to say, even if she had not yet done so. “My dear,” she began, “I hardly think that’s appro–” Sukuna’s glares reorients itself now to focus on your mother, and she purses her lips with what appears to be arduous effort, knowing a quarrel with Sukuna would escalate quite quickly, both immediate and unwise.  

Madame Momo, for the better, offers no protest as she lowers the deep, wine red fabric she was upholding against your body. If you were not wearing your regular clothes, you would know that quite a bit of the swell of your breasts would be framed by the dress. However, it wasn’t enough. “A bit lower.”

The modiste lets out a small sigh, her needle poised mid-air as she hesitates. “My lady, to lower it further would risk—” she pauses delicately, “—compromising the structural integrity of the gown.”

“I appreciate your insight, Madame, and know that you are quite skilled at your craft,” you flash her a semi-apologetic smile. After all, she is the one that has to attend to your…rebranding crisis and revamp a majority of your wardrobe. “However, I am afraid that I’d like to do something new this season. Something eye-catching.”

A faint chuckle escapes her lips, no doubt spurred on by the flattery. With a practiced hand, she adjusts the fabric once more, lowering it to the precise balance of scandalous and sophisticated. She steps back, her critical eye assessing her own handiwork. “Well, it will definitely be eye-catching.”

“Precisely.” You nod in approval, smoothing the line of the fabric with your fingers. “I believe Lady Whistledown,” you add, your voice tinged with knowing confidence, “will ensure that the modiste responsible for the diamond’s striking attire becomes the talk of the season.”

Momo’s lips twitch into a smile, and she dips her head in acknowledgment, already returning to her work with renewed purpose. Sukuna, standing to the side, folds his arms and smirks at the scene, clearly entertained by your audacity.

Your mother, meanwhile, remains silent, though her pursed lips betray her disapproval. Let her simmer, you think, satisfaction curling in your chest. This season is yours to command, and you will not be overlooked.

I cannot do this. I cannot I cannot I cannot I cann—

“Sister!” Sukuna called out. You regained your senses, snapping your head at once to look at him, who was holding out his hand. Swallowing, you grabbed it so he could assist you out of the carriage. What had you in a tizzy was the sheer amount of people. Yet again, you were attending your first party after the events in the countryside but this time without your mother and Yuuji. Not only had the people you were accompanied with changed, but also different attire. A red silk dress fell over your curves gracefully, the draping across your chest a bit lower than usual. It is the dress of your dreams—one that you would have worn if not for your mother and her beliefs regarding your image. Now, your clothing was still socially acceptable but nevertheless daring—exactly the image you wanted to present. 

However, it was safe to say that after the events of the house party, venturing out in another—with so much of your chest exposed—had you nervous. Oh God, perhaps this wasn’t the brightest of my ideas— (a/n she’s just a girl :( )

“Presenting Miss Itadori, Mister Itadori, and the Right Honorable The Viscount Itadori!” As you were announced to the room, with your brothers linking arms on either side of you, you smiled—trying not to let the nerves show. At the sound of your name, the buzz of conversation faltered, dozens of heads turning toward you. You felt the weight of their gazes—sharp, judgmental, curious. You were certain half of them were eager to witness the fallout of Whistledown’s latest scandal, while the other half seemed transfixed by the boldness of your attire.

Your eyes flitted over the sea of faces as you moved through the room. There were gasps, poorly veiled whispers, and even a few widened eyes aimed at Sukuna, but what truly set your nerves alight was the attention fixed squarely on you. You resisted the urge to fidget, to adjust the neckline of your gown, to shrink under their scrutiny.

Then, amid the crowd, your gaze locked onto a familiar figure with a piercing stare—Suguru Geto.

He was lounging by the far wall, a glass of wine in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with mirth. An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head, clearly entertained. Your heart stuttered, the heat rushing to your cheeks making your nerves spike further. Am I being mocked?

Before the thought could consume you, he raised his glass in a mock salute, a gesture of acknowledgment—perhaps even respect. He then nudged the man standing next to him, none other than Duke Nanami.

Your pulse quickened at the sight of the Duke, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Geto’s casual amusement. The weight of Nanami’s steady, discerning gaze was one you weren’t prepared to meet—not tonight. In the periphery, you caught Geto slipping toward the courtyard, his laughter soft but audible as he disappeared into the night.

You tore your gaze away just in time, focusing straight ahead as you approached the Queen. Your shoulders stiffened, the intricate beading of your gown catching in the light. The murmurs grew fainter, the towering figure of Her Majesty now looming just ahead. With each step, your pulse thundered louder in your ears, but you kept your chin high, determined not to falter.

When you and your brothers reached the foot of the throne, you slipped your arms free from theirs and sank into the deepest curtsy you could manage. "Your Majesty," you murmured, lowering your head to avoid the weight of her gaze. The richness of the room—gold-trimmed drapes, towering portraits, and the hum of whispered conversations—did little to steady your nerves.

"Rise," the Queen commanded, her tone clipped and dismissive, the single word laced with impatience. You obeyed, your movements deliberate and slow, feeling the weight of every eye in the chamber on your shoulders. When you met her gaze, she was already appraising you, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. Her scrutiny was clinical, and when she sighed audibly, it was clear her judgment was far from favorable.

“I have not been…pleased by the recent affairs, diamond,” the Queen began, her voice cold and detached, like a blade gliding through silk. A sniff punctuated her words, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “I fear this is a failure to the crown.”

The room seemed to tilt, your heartbeat quickening in your chest. The Queen’s disappointment carried a weight that could crush reputations, and yours was teetering precariously on the edge of her approval.

“However,” her tone shifted ever so slightly, and you found yourself snapping to attention, clinging to that single word like a lifeline. “Your recent change in…style is fitting.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard her correctly. The Queen’s gaze lingered on the daring neckline of your gown, the rich red fabric catching the light in just the right way to emphasize its boldness. “You are not a simple and bland gem, Miss Itadori.” Her words were deliberate, measured, and the faintest hint of approval gleamed in her sharp eyes. “You are a diamond, and you must start to shine like it.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The Queen’s words were praise, yes, but they also carried an implicit warning: a diamond that failed to sparkle was of no use to anyone, least of all the crown.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you said, your voice steady but quiet, and you curtsied again, the fabric of your gown whispering against the marble floor. The Queen’s gaze swept over you once more before she turned her attention elsewhere, her dismissal unspoken but clear. As you rose again, Choso placed a reassuring hand on your elbow, a subtle anchor in the sea of your swirling thoughts.

A light, “You all are dismissed.”

The cool night air wrapped around Suguru Geto as he strolled into the courtyard, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The faint strains of the ballroom's orchestra followed him, muffled now by the grand walls of the manor. A slow, self-satisfied smile crept across his lips as he glanced up at the stars. The night felt ripe with possibility, though it was the scene he had just left that truly amused him.

He exhaled, letting the crisp air settle over him, before taking another measured step toward the fountain at the courtyard’s center. His fingers grazed the cool stone edge, the chill a welcome change from the warmth of the crowded ballroom. He savored the silence, only for it to be broken by the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.

“Geto,” a voice called out, casual but clipped.

Suguru turned slowly, almost lazily, as though he hadn’t already recognized the speaker. Gojo Satoru emerged from the shadows of the colonnade, his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He moved with his usual languid ease, though his sharp blue gaze belied his carefree demeanor.

“Well, well,” Suguru greeted, his tone light but edged with something sharp. “You’re out here. Don’t tell me you’ve finally tired of the fawning crowds?”

Gojo came to a stop a few paces away, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the marble columns. “Needed some air. The room’s packed with too many people pretending to like each other.” His gaze flicked to Suguru, scrutinizing. “And you? Slipping out to avoid trouble, or cause it?”

Suguru chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, you wound me, Satoru. Can’t a man enjoy a moment of peace without being accused of scheming?”

“You?” Gojo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not a chance. So, what’s your angle this time?”

Suguru let the question hang, savoring the quiet tension between them. He set his glass down on the fountain’s edge, turning to fully face Gojo. His smirk widened as he finally spoke. “No angle. Just admiring the company tonight. Speaking of which…” He paused for dramatic effect, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “Miss Itadori made quite the entrance.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change immediately, but Suguru saw the faint flicker of something—irritation, maybe, or something more carefully hidden. Gojo’s mouth twitched into a scoff, though the sound was faint, almost perfunctory.

“What about her?” Gojo asked, his tone deliberately disinterested, but Suguru noted how his fingers flexed briefly before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Suguru hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the sky as if considering his next words carefully. “She looked… radiant tonight. Stunning, really. I can’t imagine half the room wasn’t staring. Though, I must say, some seemed more surprised than others.” His eyes darted back to Gojo, watching for a reaction.

Gojo rolled his eyes, though there was a tightness in his jaw that Suguru didn’t miss. “She’s just another debutante. Why would I care what she’s wearing?”

“Why indeed?” Suguru replied, his voice deceptively mild. He stepped closer, leaning against the fountain with an easy grace. “But it does make one wonder—what kind of man would care? Surely someone with a sharp eye for detail. Someone with… let’s say, a bustful interest.”

Gojo stiffened slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Suguru tilted his head, studying Gojo with an intensity that bordered on playful. “Because I could swear you seemed a little distracted back there. And not by the Queen, mind you. Why did you leave as soon as the Itadoris were announced?”

“Drop it, Geto.” Gojo’s voice was sharper now, but there was an edge of unease beneath the command.

Suguru’s smirk deepened as he tried to fight the urge to snicker at his friend, but he let the moment linger, letting Gojo stew in his discomfort. He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the liquid idly before taking another slow sip. Finally, he straightened, his tone turning lighter, though no less pointed.

“Well, whatever it is—or isn’t—you’d better sort it out soon.” He started to walk past Gojo, his footsteps deliberately slow. Just as he passed, he paused, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in danger of losing your famously cool head.”

Gojo didn’t respond immediately, but Suguru didn’t need him to. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw—those were all the confirmation he needed for his plan.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound more amused than mocking, and continued on his way, his voice drifting back over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the night, Satoru. Something tells me it’s going to be… illuminating.”

Left alone, Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he glared at the retreating figure. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked fervor. Still, Suguru’s words lingered, circling his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He turned his gaze back toward the ballroom, his thoughts uncomfortably crowded with images of a certain young lady and the maddening smirk of a man who always seemed to know too much.

It appears that you and Duke Nanami have much in common, for you are able to hold a most pleasant conversation with him.

The din of the ballroom fades to a dull murmur as you stand near the refreshment table, your gaze politely fixed on the Duke. His presence is commanding yet unassuming—a rare quality that draws you in. Dressed in a deep navy coat that matches the intensity of his solemn eyes, he inclines his head slightly as he speaks, the weight of his words tempered by the gentleness in his tone.

The arrangement is perfect. You have successfully caught your target, much to the chagrin of ladies. After all, it was not all days that Duke Nanami took interest in a lady. You would have to credit Choso; he had researched that HIs Grace did not like overbearing mamas accompanying their girls—a most rational opinion. Posing fiery opinions without the presence of anyone except yourself, it seemed that you had hit the mark.

“I find, Miss Itadori,” he says, his voice smooth yet deliberate, “that many in our circles underestimate the joy of simple pursuits. They mistake extravagance for fulfillment.” He takes a measured sip from his glass, his gloved fingers resting lightly on its stem.

You nod, a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I could not agree more, Your Grace. There is a certain comfort in the unadorned pleasures of life. A good book, a quiet morning—these seem to me the most worthwhile indulgences.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might pass as a rare smile. “Indeed. Though I daresay, quiet mornings are hard to come by when the season is in full swing.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost swallowed by the music that swells across the room. “Quite so. I suppose we are all too busy chasing the next waltz or whispering about the latest Whistledown missive.”

At the mention of Whistledown, the Duke raises a brow, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Ah, yes. Our ever-watchful chronicler. One wonders if she, too, finds time for quiet mornings.”

“I imagine she must,” you reply. “After all, how else would she craft such keen observations? A mind as sharp as hers surely requires moments of reflection.”

“Reflection, yes,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting briefly to the chandelier above, as if lost in thought. Then, returning his attention to you, he asks, “And what of you, Miss Itadori? Amidst the bustle, do you find moments to reflect?”

The question catches you off guard—not because it is intrusive, but because it is sincere. Few have ever asked you such things. You hesitate, then answer truthfully. “I try, Your Grace. Though I must admit, the season has left little room for it. It seems my every step is watched, my every word weighed. I sometimes wonder if I have forgotten how to simply be.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, you feel as though he truly sees you—not as the diamond of the season, not as the subject of idle gossip, but as a person. “That is a heavy burden to bear,” he says quietly. “Perhaps it is time you allowed yourself a reprieve. Even diamonds require care, lest they lose their brilliance.”

The words settle over you like a balm, and you find yourself holding his gaze longer than propriety might dictate. There is no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. It is both comforting and disarming. Before you can respond, a burst of laughter from a nearby group breaks the spell. You glance away, suddenly aware of your surroundings once more. “You are kind to say so, Your Grace,” you murmur, your voice steadier than you feel.

“I merely speak the truth, Miss Itadori,” he replies, bowing his head slightly.

A pause lingers between you, not uncomfortable but weighty with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he clears his throat, his tone lighter as he says, “Would you care to take a turn about the room? I find the air here grows rather stifling.”

You smile, grateful for the excuse to move. “I would like that very much.”

As he offers his arm, you place your hand lightly upon it, allowing him to guide you into the throng. The music swells once more, and though the room is as noisy and crowded as ever, the world feels a little quieter with Duke Nanami by your side. You can see it—early mornings with Nanami, enjoying gentle banter as he returned your thoughts without any ire, without snark or judgment. Quiet respect and gentle affection filling your days. A life free of chaos, where your worries dissipate into the steady calm of his demeanor. Perhaps this could be happiness. A steady, uncomplicated happiness.

But then you see him.

You abhor your traitorous heart for lurching ever so slightly at the sight of Gojo. He is standing near the edge of the ballroom, the golden light catching on his shock of silver hair as though it had been crafted to draw attention. His smile—always so bright, so effortless—makes the lady beside him laugh. She looks at him with a sultry, yet detached and amused expression, her fan flicking lazily as if to dismiss her own growing interest.

Your chest tightens. You know this scene well. It is one you have observed too many times, and yet you have never been able to steel yourself against the sting it brings. The way he leans ever so slightly toward the lady, as though she were the only person in the room. The way his laughter echoes, a sound full of mirth and mischief, as if he had no weight upon his shoulders.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You tell yourself he doesn’t matter.

But then, as though he feels the weight of your gaze, Gojo turns his head. Your pulse quickens as his eyes widen, the usual lazy charm momentarily replaced by something sharper, something you can’t quite place.

First, his gaze lands on your face, his eyes sweeping over it with a quickness that feels like a jolt to your chest. Then, they drop lower, and you feel the heat of his scrutiny settle uncomfortably on your chest. A flicker of something crosses his expression—shock, perhaps, or something else entirely—but before you can decipher it, his gaze moves again, lower still, to where your hand rests upon the Duke’s arm.

It is subtle, the way his jaw tightens. The way his smile falters, only to return a moment later, forced and brittle. He shifts his weight, turning back toward the lady at his side, but not before you catch the way his fingers twitch at his side.

You force yourself to look away, to focus instead on Duke Nanami’s steady presence beside you. He has not noticed the exchange—or if he has, he is far too polite to show it.

And yet, the moment lingers. Gojo’s image burns in your mind like the fading glow of a candle, stubbornly refusing to extinguish. You loathe the way your heart betrays you, its treacherous rhythm quickened not by the Duke’s calm assurance, but by the mere sight of a man who has always been more trouble than he’s worth.

Nanami’s voice cuts through your tumultuous thoughts, soft and grounding. “You seem distracted, Miss Itadori,” he remarks, his gaze kind but curious.

You manage a small smile, tightening your grip on his arm as though it might anchor you. “Not at all, Your Grace. Perhaps just…overwhelmed by the crowd.”

He nods, accepting your answer without pressing further. “Understandable. These gatherings can be rather tiresome.”

“Yes,” you murmur, casting one last glance in Gojo’s direction before forcing your focus back to the Duke. “Tiresome indeed.”

But even as you walk beside Nanami, his presence a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the evening, you cannot help but feel the weight of Gojo’s lingering gaze, the memory of his startled expression etched into your thoughts like a brand. You cannot help but observe the situation. Tonight, you would be ending the night on Duke Nanami’s arm, and Gojo with another woman.

Is this not what you both wanted?

Today, it seems that the usual trio at White’s is only a duo. The blonde and raven head swirl their alcohol in their shimmering glasses while sharing a comfortable silence. That is, until one interrupts.

“How do we know we’re not simply toying with her?” The blonde man’s voice is steady but tinged with unease, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glances toward his companion. “It would not be honorable of me to pursue Miss Itadori under the pretense of riling Gojo, as you seem intent on doing—”

“Kento!” The raven-haired man—Lord Geto—throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unapologetically amused. He leans forward slightly, propping his elbow on the armrest, as his grin widens. “So confident in your lady-pleasing and romancing abilities, aren’t you?” Nanami’s frown deepens, but Geto merely waves him off, his laughter subsiding to a mischievous chuckle. “No, no—don’t worry. You misunderstand me. This isn’t about Miss Itadori falling for you, though,” he smirks, “I’m sure you’d manage well enough.” His tone is teasing, but his words lack any true malice.

“Then what is it about?” Nanami’s voice carries a note of exasperation, though he remains as composed as ever, swirling his drink in quiet contemplation.

Geto straightens, a glint of something sharper flashing in his dark eyes. “It’s about them. They’re idiots, Kento—idiots in love, the both of them. And it is our duty, as Satoru’s friends,” he pauses, meeting Nanami’s gaze with deliberate emphasis, “to help him realize what he truly desires.”

Nanami snorts, setting his glass down with a muted clink. “You just want to toy with them, to orchestrate the ton and its leading source of gossip.”

The corner of Geto’s mouth quirks upward in a sly smile, one that practically oozes self-satisfaction. “That, my dear friend,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I cannot deny.”

They lapse into silence once more, the kind that only years of friendship can create, as the firelight flickers and dances on the walls around them. Nanami tips his glass back, savoring the warmth of the whiskey as he contemplates Geto’s words—and the inevitable chaos that would follow in their wake.

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n HEYYY POOKIES IT'S HERE IT'S HERE WHAT DID WE THINK. also here is the bridgerton!gojo playlist if anyone is interested!!! i apologize it is 99% taylor swift but i will be adding more diverse songs

despite the miss itadori hate in recent times our girl is BOUNCING BACKK #mogged i cant wait for her to become even more of a diva in the next few chapterssss!!!! (not rn shes going through her sad girl era or wtvr)

suguru (left) and nanami (right) at this whole drama

also i hope none of you WHORESSSS simped for geto when we made eye contact with him (im looking at zaynesbathrobe anon and all those anons that are obsessed with bridgerton!geto). stay FOCUSED girls gays and theys

thank you for readinggggg. a hot new bombshell will be entering the villa in the next few chapters can we guess who he is??? hint he has huge tits and smelly balls

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[satonomi]

PEARL NECKLACE — gojo satෆru

mdni, fem!reader, suggestive, 0.8k wc, established relationship, christmas fic, gojo is a cheeky little shit like always, gifts his wife a cum necklace, wifey doesn’t like gojonanigans, pet names, this whole thing is a sexual innuendo in itself, reader is kinda really oblivious.

the gift sat on your lap, and you gently peeled back the intricate wrapping paper, letting out a sharp, delicate gasp at the sight that greeted you.

“oh, satoru. it’s beautiful.”

beautiful it was indeed, a stunning piece, sitting inside a black velvet box, held securely in place. the design was simple, dainty, something you’d be able to wear every day — yet still eye catching and an elegant display of wealth. a single, creamy pearl hung low on the silver chain, small glistening encrusted diamonds sitting at the very top; white and of course, blue, hinting at the striking shade of satoru’s eyes.

such gifts were nothing new to you, and as he went to retrieve the expensive jewelry from your grasp, you turned your back to him out of habit, moving your hair to the side.

“only the best for you.” he murmured, breath puffing against your nape, planting a wet kiss before drawing back.

long, deft fingers opened the clasp, pale hands maneuvering their way around your neck. you shiver at the cool metal brushing against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of your husband’s fingertips.

once it’s fastened, your chin dips down to your chest, continuing to admire the necklace. it wasn’t the most extravagant or expensive thing you’ve received from him, but it was just as beautiful as anything else he’s ever gotten you. the tiny gems sparkle against the christmas lights from the big tree, appearing even more dazzling.

however, upon further inspection, you couldn’t help but notice something about the necklace seemed a bit…off.

you’re vastly familiar with pricey accessories and clothing thanks to a certain someone. therefore, you could easily spot a real from a fake. pearls in their nature were cool to the touch, which it was. but they were also heavy, which this one was not.

it strikes you as odd. you know your husband well enough to know he’d never buy you a counterfeit— it’d be a slight to his ego if you ever insinuated he did for he was certainly not lacking in wealth — and even so, satoru only buys custom made jewelry, all in order for no one else in the world to ever own or wear the same thing as you.

examining the singular pearl further, you pinched the white orb between your middle finger and thumb, tapping on it repeatedly with the tip of your perfectly manicured nail on your pointer finger to test the hollowness of the sphere.

satoru looks over, jaw resting on your shoulder while his arms hooked themselves over your waist. he watches intently, hypnotized by the movements and soft, reverberating clacking sound, unable to think of anything else but you repeating the exact motion on the tip of his cock.

“mm, what’s wrong? not to your taste?”, he grumbled, and though you couldn’t see it, you could practically hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

it was a ridiculous—no—outrageous question, and he knew that. your husband knew you better than you knew yourself. and you knew him better than he knew himself. with that, you could tell there was more to that cheeky smile than he let on.

“satoru.” you warned, only to receive a pout in response from the corner of your eye.

he blinks. “whaaat? i didn’t even do anything and you’re scolding me.”

“yes, you did. tell me. right now.”

a childish whine sounds beside your ear at the chastising tone. he hugs you tighter into his arms—willing you not to be mad—firm, muscular chest pressing against your back.

“‘s nothing baby, just—”, and he giggles, flicking the little ball so that it makes a soft ping! sound.

“wanted you to always have a piece of me with you...” he finishes, biting his lip, trying to fight back his laughter at his little inside joke.

satoru bats his lashes at you when you turn to face him over your shoulder—innocent. your brows furrow in confusion, and your eyes fix back onto the light, creamy pearl nestled between your fingers with a glare, daring it to give you the answers to all of your questions.

the silence that follows tells your husband of your ongoing obliviousness to his implication. he sighs at his ever-so dumb wife, gaze locked onto your face from his place behind you, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief.

“oh, don’t make that face, my dear. you’ll figure it out eventually.”

a hand releases your waist, taking the pearl from you and stroking it. his fingers caress the sphere in a slow, sensual rhythm and he leans in, lips brushing against your ear, voice dropping to a whisper.

“but for now, let’s just say that this pearl has a unique...essence.”

ping!

“one that’s all mine.”

[cute-sucker]

smile for the camera

˚❀༉‧₊˚

rafe called you his prized trophy, and you didn't mind it. you trotted in your tight skirts, black card and tiny heels. it was a ritual, something calming. you needed a label, something to stand by.

something that branded you to be his. but you didn't mind his demands, sometimes you were sweet about it. sometimes you let things go wild, but you knew he would take care of you. that was the important thing. that was what you needed most of all/  

there was something about him that made you feel protected. and he liked that you let him do that. you fueled his male insecurities of having to be a strong, strong man, because of how desperately you needed someone like that.

you used to be a pageant queen, a girl who had gems stuck to her forehead, makeup drowning her face, teeth bleached white, and the constant need to be loved. one of your vivid memories was getting dragged to get your hair done, your mother screeching about how needy you were. the whole appointment you cried your eyes out, arms flailing out, whispering questions.

"do you love me mommy?"

and she would pull you up, her lipstick clashing againts her leopard orange jumpsuit. you could already hear the insult, and braced yourself.

"would someone love their cash cow?" then she paused watching your expression. you were five. you didn't know what that meant, but you could feel yourself being inspected like an insect, and then finally when you cowered your gaze to the floor, she hummed with contempt.

"no. now, shut up" then her harsh hand would graze against your chin to fix your hair. you whimpered, hands aching to take out your outfit. the rest of the memory was too painful to remember.

but those days were gone. rafe had caught your eye the first time you worked at the country club. you lacked the vanity or the items that would attract someone who had money, but there was something about your smile.

you were dazzling no matter what, and that was when rafe had seen you. you had gone to the bathroom before to serve him, and came back with pink glossy lips and doe eyes that showed him that you were innocent. you needed protection. you needed someone to give you the firm hand, and then kiss you with forgiveness.  

so there it was. within weeks he would only call you to serve him, and you would do so quickly, the same smile plastered on your face, and finally as if he was pissed he pulled you down. your mom had always told you that the one thing she liked about you was your winning smile. but, something was wrong.

"nah, i don't like that."

you snapped to look at him, your fake smile wavering for a moment, "what's the problem, mr. cameron?"

sometimes that would earn a chuckle out of him, and you could tell the way he was sitting that he liked it but - but there was something wrong, and suddenly he was pulling you down to sit with him. you felt shocked seeing him so close. you could smell his breath, and you felt your heart drum faster.

"get that-" he pointed to your face, "-fucking fake smile outta here. if you wanna make me happy? give me a real smile."

and that was it, and then he grunted almost pushing you up. you sniffled, and then got up, hands reaching to fix your skirt and then hurried out to the backdoor. no one called back for you, and it was almost as if his words echoed all the way home as you caught the bus.

you spent hours crying over that moment. as you got home you rushed to the bathroom. your disgusting apartment smellt of cockroaches, and burnt food, and you sat there in your sink. you smiled. stopped. smiled. stopped. smiled. it hurt the way the cracks of your smile etched into your mouth.

what was wrong with it?

for god sakes what was he talking about?

x

those days were now long gone. no longer did you wait tables, or go back to your crappy apartment that made you feel gross. instead you slept in a warm bed in tanyhill waking up to rafe's firm hands on your body. you snuggled closer to him, placing your hands on his chest.

"hey?" he murmered, head buried in the fluff of his pillow. you giggled at his strange expression, and he quickly stuck his head out, eyes squinted, "what's wrong?"

you sighed, "nothing rafey. i-"

he looked at you again, a pointed look on his face, "spit it out."

you bit your lip, your voice a whisper when you asked your question. you had always been told to never ask questions unless you wanted the backhand, but rafe waited patiently.

"um," you sputtered out, "um, you remember that day when you came into the country club and i was serving-"

he hummed appreciatively, "yeah you were so hot, goddamn-"

at this you giggled again, before placing your hand on his mouth, "gotta shut up for a second-" and then you bit your lip before tilting your head, "remember that day when you told me to stop smiling, or something like you didn't like my smile?"

rafe seemed to furrow his eyebrows, "no, baby, i don't really remember that," he muttered out, and you felt your heart prick.

your eyes watered the way they always did, as your throat clogged up, "i was wondering what you meant by that?"

he sighed finally, looking at you. you looked so small in your pink nightgown, lip stuck out as you seemed to clench your fists to the sides of your body. you watched him carefully, hoping that something - some emotions would show on his face.

he sighed again, before reaching out for you, "baby, come here. you seem so far away," he said soflty, pulling you closer until you were in his lap. he held you close, his words humming a sweet vibration through your body. you felt safe, you felt at home.

you felt your breathing calm, as you listened to his steady beat. his hand moved up and down your back.

"listen," he began, his voice a low rumble, "when I said that, i didn't mean I didn't like your smile. i just meant i wanted to see the real you. not some fake, plastered-on smile you thought i wanted to see."

you sniffled, tears brimming in your eyes, but you felt a small flicker of relief. "but why didn't you just say that?" you whimpered, your voice small and vulnerable.

he tilted your chin up, making you look into his eyes. "i was a dickhead, and you seemed like a sweet girl. i wanted to know you as that sweet girl"

you blinked, a tear slipping down your cheek. he make a soft sound of protest as he wiped the tear away with his coarse thumb, touch tender

"you mean that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. you felt shy now, folding into your self, as rafe smiled against your skin.

"of course, i mean it," he replied firmly. "y'think i'd lie about something like that?"

finally he pulled you up to give you a firm kiss, "my princess."

you buried your face in his chest, letting his words sink in. the weight of the past seemed to lift, if only a little, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "thank you, rafe," you murmured against his skin.

he held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "no need to thank me, baby."

for the first time in a long time, you felt a genuine smile tug at your lips.

[city-of-ladies]

"Here’s what we know about Julia Felix: she lived in Pompeii from at least 62 CE. She was possibly illegitimate but was definitely not a member of the social and cultural elite. She worked for a living setting up and running a very interesting business and, by 79 CE, she had planned to shift her focus from managing a business to owning property. We know all these things because twentieth-century excavations at her business uncovered an advert, carved in stone and attached to the external wall of her huge building. It reads:

"To rent for the period of five years from the thirteenth day of next August to the thirteenth day of the sixth August, the Venus Bath fitted for the nogentium, shops with living quarters over the shops, apartments on the second floor located in the building of Julia Felix, daughter of Spurius. At the end of five years, the agreement is terminated."

This find illuminated the building it was attached to, bringing what otherwise looked like a very large anonymous domestic house into dazzling focus. With this description of the purpose of each room written by the owner herself, archaeologists and historians could see the site through a whole new lens and they realised that they had discovered a Roman entertainment space for the working middle classes. It is, so far, a completely unique find and it is magnificent. It offers us, as modern viewers, two amazing things: a little glimpse into the lives of the commercial classes of the Roman Empire who are so often completely and utterly invisible, and a brutal reminder that so much of what we ‘know’ about Roman women in the Roman world comes from rules concerning only the most elite.

We’ll do that second part first, because it’s the least fun. Roman written and legal sources are pretty universal in their agreement that although women could own property, they could not control it; they had no legal rights, could not make contracts and were to be treated as minors by the legal system for their entire lives. In order to buy or sell property women required a male guardian to oversee and sign off on any transactions. This is a basic truism of women in the Roman Empire, repeated ad nauseum by sources both ancient and modern including me, and it is undermined by Julia Felix’s rental notice. 

The rental ad makes it pretty clear that Julia Felix is the owner-operator of a business complex including public baths, shops and apartments (there’s more too, as we’ll see), and she doesn’t seem to require anyone else to help her rent it out. She names her father – sort of; ‘Spurius’ might just mean that she is illegitimate – but this is effectively a surname, a personal identifier to differentiate her from other Julia Felixes in the area. It doesn’t mean her father was involved. Furthermore, the use of her father’s name as an identifier suggests that Julia didn’t have a husband and was either unmarried or widowed in 79 CE. The strong implication of her advert is that Julia Felix was an independent lady, a honey making money and a momma profiting dollars who could truthfully throw her hands up to Destiny’s Child.

We will never know if Julia escaped the flames and choking ash of 79 CE, fleeing as it swallowed her business and her home, but one discovery, made on 28 January 1952, suggests that she didn’t. The archaeologists, led by Amedeo Maiuri, uncovered on that day the skeleton of a woman who had fallen while running across the garden during the disaster. It’s clear this fallen woman was well off, because she was wearing a lot of gold jewellery. She carried four gold half-hoop earrings and wore four gold rings. Two of these rings were particularly expensive; both contained a red carnelian gem, one carved with a figure of Mercury, the other with an eagle. Around her neck she wore a necklace of gold filigree, dotted with ten pearls and hung with a green pendant. Someone stole both the necklace and earrings from the Pompeii Antiquarium in 1975 and no one, somehow, had ever bothered to photograph them so all we have are descriptions but the rings that survive are fine and expensive. The woman who wore them – was wearing them when she died – had real money to buy these objects and the woman who wore them did'nt leave Pompei in time.

 Moreover, when she was found it was clear that at the moment of her death she was heading not towards the street or towards safety, but towards the shrine to Isis in the garden where all the most valuable possessions were kept. The valuable possessions that Julia Felix grafted for and maybe couldn’t bear to leave behind. There’s no way to tell whether this skeleton is Julia Felix, whether these bones once stood and looked at the plots of land Julia bought and made plans, or whether they belong to a looter or a chancer or someone just caught out. But it’s nice to pretend that Julia Felix, who shaped the city’s roads around her dream and offered respite and luxury to workers and made a tonne of money doing it, died and was buried with the place that still bears her name."

A Rome of One's Own: The Forgotten Women of the Roman Empire, Emma Southon

[e-vay]

Hey E-Vay ! Before I say anything, LOVE your work.

Okay, so I know that you're in the process of showing us how Sonic and Amy's wedding and proposal is planned out (no pressure). BuT, just curious, how did Knucks and Rouge get married? Or even how did he get to propose?

Thanks for seeing this!

Thank you so very much! 🥰 I’m so happy you like my work! 

I will not be doing a full comic or even a full fic of how their wedding goes down just because I have too many other projects I want to do (I’m only one person! 🥵). But I will give you a breakdown of how the Knuxouge wedding goes in my AU! And if anyone wants to do fanart or a fic based off it, I’d love to see/read it!

During the events of Boom!Baby, Knuckles and Rouge finally get engaged. I don’t have the exact proposal in mind, but I like to think that the two of them have been aggressively/playfully putting it off for awhile, with Knuckles constantly joking “As if I’d ever want to be married to HER” and Rouge jabbing back with “Please, you’d need to offer me the Master Emerald on a ring for me to even consider it!” But with Sonic and Amy taking this next major step in their lives, Knuckles is inspired and does end up popping the question (with a CONSIDERABLE ring full of gems that he scavenged himself!).

Knowing Rouge is an absolute diva, she’d have the most extravagant, over-the-top, dazzling wedding you could imagine. And it would definitely be a “no-kids-allowed” event. Have you seen the movie “Crazy Rich Asians”? Picture that. The wedding would be a spectacle that would last for DAYS! But, the wedding date would be expedited super fast (I headcanon that Rouge is actually very insecure and puts out a bold front to hide that about herself. She’d want to rush the wedding because she’s secretly afraid Knuckles will want to back out. She shouldn’t worry about that, he loves her very much and really wants to marry her!).

In my AU, Shadow is off-world during Boom!Baby, so though Rouge would have obviously asked him to be her “Man of Honor,” she wouldn’t be able to find a way to reach him and get him back in time for the wedding. Because of this, Omega gets pushed to the role of “Man (Mech?) of Honor” and Rouge asks Amy to be a bridesmaid instead. Note, Amy is nearing the end of her pregnancy at this time haha. I always write Rouge and Amy to have a very tense “friendship;” that’s just my personal preference. So Rouge asking Amy to be her bridesmaid was because Amy is her closest female friend, but also because she thinks it will make herself look extra fabulous when standing next to a very pregnant lady haha. She even picks out an awful yellow bridesmaid dress for Amy to wear (because Amy is still very beautiful, pregnant or not). Though Amy does agree to be a bridesmaid to support her friend, she’s actually quite upset and very self-conscious and it initially puts a damper on her enjoyment of the wedding festivities (Her feet hurt like hell, she feels like a bowling ball, she thinks she looks horrendous in this color!). Don’t worry though, Sonic cheers her up and reminds her just how radiant she is 🥰

[Sonic seeing Amy in her bridesmaid dress] S: “Wow!” A: “This yellow dress is awful. She did this on purpose.” S: “Well if she was trying to make you look bad, she failed miserably. You look like the sunshine!” A: “I look VERY pregnant!” S: “Sure, pregnant with MY baby. There ain’t a thing more beautiful than that 😉” [Rabid kissing ensues hehehe]

I picture Rouge having many outfit changes for every event that happens during their week-long wedding extravaganza, but for her actual wedding dress I imagine something super sleek, super sexy, and made up entirely of diamonds! My drawing doesn’t even do it justice. Just picture that as she’s walking, every single facet of every single diamond is sparkling! All the men would have to wear 3-piece black tuxedos complete with trousers (Sonic hates this), except Omega obviously. But he’d still wear a dapper bowtie and Sunflower & Iris boutonniere like the rest of the wedding party. (I chose Irises because Rouge seems to like the color purple and they’re a very elegant flower, and I chose sunflowers because they remind me of Knuckles for some reason. Maybe because they’re big and tall. Idk, I can see Knuckles really liking sunflowers and yellow pairs beautifully with purple). Sonic and Tails are Knuckles’ groomsmen, but Team Chaotix are also among honored guests so Vector and Espio (and maybe even Mighty) would attend all the groom-related events (like the bachelor party) leading up to the wedding.

Right before the ceremony, Rouge and Amy have a touching heart-to-heart moment and Rouge does thank her for stepping in and helping out, and she apologizes for making Amy feel bad. She admits that she has insecurities that she doesn’t like people to know about, so that’s why she goes over-the-top and sometimes puts others down in the process. Also (at least in my AU), Rouge doesn’t have very many close friends outside of Shadow and Omega, so Amy really is her next best friend. They make up, the ceremony is perfect and romantic, and everyone gets to have an absolute blast at the reception!

Lastly, because Rouge is so over-the-top… after Shadow returns back to their planet 20+ years later, I can AB-SO-LUTELY see her throwing a vow renewal that’s even more extravagant than their first wedding as an excuse to have him as her Man of Honor and also as an excuse to throw another huge bash. Though this one would be even crazier and BIGGER, I think the vow renewal would actually be way more fun because everyone (including kids) can come this time, everyone’s families are bigger (even CC would be there!), and Knuckles and Rouge’s adopted kids (Ruff and Tumble) would get to be part of the ceremony, so it’d be very heartfelt even with goofy antics.

Sorry I’m not going to make this one into a full-fledged comic, but I hope you enjoyed this condensed version anyway! And I hope nobody takes the way I write Rouge as me not liking her character. I just like to add a little spice into why she comes off so proud all the time. I adore Knuckles and Rouge as a couple. Their rivalry and catty attitudes are just a hoot!

[amnhnyc]

Today’s Exhibit of the Day? The Museum’s giant amethyst geode. Standing 9 ft (2.7 m) tall and weighing around 11,000 lbs (5,000 kg), it’s one of the largest specimens in our halls. How did this dazzling geode come to be? About 135 million years ago, the continental plates carrying South America and Africa began to separate. Magma poured out from fractures in Earth’s crust and large gas bubbles escaped from within the magma—becoming trapped in the rock as it solidified, forming cavities. Groundwater flowing into these spaces brought dissolved silica, which crystallized into quartz. Over millennia, most of these quartz crystals turned into rich purple amethyst. Spot this and other amazing specimens in the Museum’s Mignone Halls of Gems and Minerals!

Photo: D. Finnin/ © AMNH 

[jobean12-blog]

Falling Fast

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1,938

Summary: Every moment spent with him pulls you closer to the edge and when you're forced to have time apart it only makes you realize how much you want to be with him.

Author's Note: Here's more for Marcus and our princess! It's so lovely to know some of you are enjoying this as much as I am, so thank you, from the bottom of my heart. All these stories can be read as stand alones but if you want to get into the finer details then you can check out the other's here, in this order: Falling First, Falling Fast, Falling for the Forbidden, Forbidden, A Warrior's Heart (this last one is in the far future). Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

Warnings: sweet softness, tension, more book/poetry talk, stolen moments, a kiss

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Sunlight filters through the open spaces in the roof and dust dances in the shining rays as you sit with your head bent to a book. It bores you, however, so you snap it shut and place it down on the table.

You reach for the nearest wooden ladder and start to climb. Boxes of scrolls flank you on either side but you’re in search of more poetry from your father’s rare collection of books. Most of them are on the art of war but thankfully there are some hidden gems among the rest.

You stop climbing when you spot an ornate binding and reach for it. When you open the volume, dust floats up and out, tickling your nose and causing you to sneeze. Regardless you keep turning the pages, eagerly absorbing every word while still standing on the steps of the ladder.

“Surely the Princess should not be reading in such a precarious position.”   

“What?” you say with a start, searching the space.

The General stands at the entrance of the portico, his ornamental cuirass dazzling in the shafts of sunlight he walks through as he approaches.

“That’s not a safe place for you to read,” he muses with a smile playing upon his lips.

You look down at yourself as if remembering everything that has happened in the last few minutes all at once.

“Oh…well I…”

You clear your throat and clutch the wooden post of the ladder more tightly. Once the General is standing below you, he holds out his hand to offer assistance.

Your eyes stay locked on his as you place your hand in his own, the warmth of his calloused skin spreading along your arm and right down your spine. He reaches his free hand up and gently cradles your back until your feet touch solid ground.

“There,” he says quietly. “Much better.”

You continue to hold his gaze, swaying closer the longer his eyes stay focused on you and when they drop to your mouth you softly sigh.

The book slips from your hand when you reach for his arm and the sound echoes loudly, dragging you back to reality.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, suddenly breathless.

“The same thing you are Princess,” he answers.

When you don’t respond and the book remains on the stone floor between you, he bends to retrieve it and then takes your wrist, carefully placing the book in your hand.

“Escaping.”

Your breath catches at his confession and the urge to reach out and touch his face is overwhelming.

“General Acacius…”

“Marcus. Please.”

You swallow hard and with a small nod repeat his name in a whisper.

He steps closer, the sound of his name on your lips seeming to create a new spark of heat in his eyes.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, moving closer.

Your back hits the wall of wooden boxes and he places his large hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Marcus,” you whisper.

His hand drops to your cheek and his thumb sweeps across the soft skin, lifting your chin and pulling you closer.

The sound of heavy footfalls fills the hall outside the library and his eyes widen and with a muttered curse he steps away from you and moves quickly to a wall of scrolls across the room.

You stand paralyzed, the scent and the heat of his touch lingering.

Your father enters with a stoic expression and when his eyes land on you he scowls.

“Reading your romance again?” he mocks.

You open your mouth to answer but Marcus cuts in. “Actually, she was helping me find something.”

Your father’s head swings around to the General and his face lights up.

“Ah, there you are General Acacius!”

Before the General can say more your father continues, “I do hope she has not been boring you with her nonsense…”

“Not at all,” Marcus says. “She is a most gracious help.”

Your father looks between the two of you, his eyes narrowing.

“And just what is it, General, that you came into my private library looking for?” your father asks.

The General smiles warmly. “Your incredible collection of books on war, of course.”

A sadistic smile splits your father’s pursed lips. “Very good! Unfortunately, you are needed for more urgent matters. You will have to peruse my scrolls another time.”

With that he throws you a repulsed look and turns on his heel, clearly expecting the General to follow.

Marcus waits until the footsteps recede before taking long strides back to you.

“I am sorry,” he whispers as he takes your hand in his.

“What for?” you ask, your eyes tracking the movement as he lifts your hand to his lips.

“I will see you soon,” he promises before pulling you into his chest.

You gasp and lean into him, craning your neck as he dips his head. Your eyes close and your fingers curl against his cuirass but his warm breath merely fans your lips before he presses them to the corner of your mouth.

When he pulls away his expression is filled with yearning, and he gives your hand a squeeze before he lets it fall back to your side. Your lips are parted, and you sway on your feet as you watch him exit the library and follow in your father’s footsteps.

Days go by without a sight of the general and at the week’s end you can feel yourself withdrawing. You can’t focus on reading, every walk you take is spent searching for him, hoping you’ll cross paths and each night you lie awake until you remember nothing else but your dreams.

Dreams of the feel of his fingertips, his lips, his strong body pressed to yours…it’s enough to have you awakening with an aching need.

On one particularly uneventful evening you find yourself scouring the library for your book of Horace poetry. It’s been missing for days.

Deciding another walk might clear your head, you stomp away to the grounds near the Colosseum, wiggling your bare toes in the cool grass outside of the gladiator training school, while you look up at the clouds dancing across the blue sky.

You can hear the distant sound of the wooden practice weapons banging together and the indecipherable grunts and shouts of the training gladiators.

Then a commanding voice rings out over all the others and your breath hitches. You stand with a flurry of ungraceful movements and follow the sound to the open area where men are practicing.

Marcus walks tall between the lines, instructing and repositioning as he moves, all the while watching with keen eyes. You hide yourself as best you can behind the low stone wall and watch.

He’s a spectacle of power and grace and before you realize where your feet are carrying you, you’re standing in plain sight, eyes glued to the General.

“Princess,” one of the training men croons. “Have you come to enjoy the sights?”

Your eyes move slowly away from Marcus and land on the man who is speaking to you, and you lift your chin.

“I am merely out for a walk.”

He flexes his muscles and licks his lips as he eyes you hungrily.

Without warning you hear the crack of a hand against skin, and the man falls to his knees. The General stands above him.

“The Princess may enjoy whatever sights she wants without your commenting on it.”

He then brings his eyes to yours. “Forgive me. I hope you were not disturbed.”

“Not at all General,” you answer. “Just out for a walk…in search of some patience.”

Marcus’ eyes widen ever so slightly, barely enough for you to catch, but then you see his fist flex at his side and his lips twitch with a smile.

“I understand,” he replies. “I have been asked to oversee the training of the new gladiators and have been held up here at the training grounds…it is a test of my patience.”

With this new knowledge of why he’s been missing you smile and ask, “I hope you at least have had time do some reading?”

He steps closer, away from prying ears.

“I have actually.”

His smile is playful.

“Horace again?” you ask.

He nods with a slight incline of his head and says, “I hope you do not mind. It helps to pass the time here.”

“Not at all General,” you smile. “When will you be returning to the palace grounds?”

“Tonight,” he states. “I would like to visit the library again.”

You notice the trainees starting to get rowdy, their eyes warily darting between you and the General the longer you speak.

Marcus clears his throat and looks over his shoulder, causing the other men to straighten up and stand in line.

He starts to turn on his heel to address them but not before he says, quietly enough for only you to hear, “until tonight. Princess.”

The darkness of night blankets the sky and the oil lamp you hold does little to blot out the brilliance of the stars above as they twinkle through the openings in the library roof.

You’re staring up at them when he walks in. His footsteps are sure but quiet and when he reaches you, he takes the lamp from your fingers and sets it down on the table.

“I have never experienced a day longer than this,” he murmurs.

“Marcus,” you whisper, trying to restrain yourself from reaching out for him.

You look him over, noticing a large bandage wrapped around his upper bicep and gently lift your fingers to touch it.

“It is nothing,” he assures you, wrapping his fingers around yours and pulling you into his chest.

Tonight, he wears only a cloth tunic, and you can feel the way his muscles tense and shift beneath the soft fabric. Your fingertips glide across the wide breadth of his shoulders and then to toy with the pin holding the tunic in place.

You won’t meet his eyes and his grip tightens.

“Something troubles you,” he states.

“No,” you answer quickly, finally looking him in the eyes.

His eyebrows raise knowingly, and he waits.

“Yes,” you say this time, much more softly. “It is just that…the other night, here in the library…”

Your words die off with a sigh, but he finishes the thought for you.

“Why did I not kiss you?”

You suck in a breath.

“Princess. I would not have the first time my lips touch yours be anything less than perfection and under prying eyes I should not like to have been rushed.”

“Oh,” is all you can say as he easily walks you backward toward one of the stone pillars.

It’s cold when you back hits it, but you don’t care and instead press yourself closer to him.

“Marcus. Please.”

He growls out your name as he slides his hands up the curve of your waist, tucking one behind your neck and the other under your jaw. Your noses brush ever so lightly, and he closes his eyes with a deep inhale as his lips ghost along your skin.

His lips are soft and gentle as they touch your cheek, then your temple, your forehead, and finally they hover just above yours.

“Marcus…?”

“I fear that once I kiss you, I will never be able to stop.”

He breathes the words against your skin and breathes you in before his lips capture yours. It’s soft at first, tentative, but the moment you let slip the low moan at the back of your throat, it becomes insistent and intense, and you kiss him back with equal fervor.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @tripletstephaniescp @lizette50

[allfearstofallto]

Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 1!

happy new year, everyone!! we're kicking the year off with a slightly shorter rec list than usual - i've been spending a lot more time with family, and a lot less time reading - of lovely, lovely fics. enjoy!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all i want for christmas... | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.4k | GA

“So…I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for Christmas.” Buck closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting the full impact of Eddie’s words hit him for a second. “Y-yeah, man. Of course. I totally get it.” He swallows, “Your family is there, anyways.” i am still thoroughly enjoying a few more holiday fics and this one was an absolute highlight this week!! so soft and lovely <3

'cause i took the long road to find you wanting me | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 6k | T

Buck can't bring himself to act normal around Eddie in the days after he reveals he's looking for houses in El Paso, he knows that Eddie leaving will be one of the most painful things he'll have to endure, but he refuses to tell him that he shouldn't go. After a few days, Eddie comes to Buck's loft unannounced to confront him about it, and everything becomes even more complicated. i LOVE this fic's characterisation of buck so very much <3 so good!!

every corner of this house is haunted | justhockey | 2.5k | GA

And now that love is everywhere, is in everything. It’s worn so deeply into the grooves of his skin that it’s changed the very structure of his fingerprint - is burrowed so deep inside of him that it has rewritten his DNA. His love for Eddie and for Christopher is carved into his bones - etched onto his heart like an epitaph: love lived here. Love left here. the excitment i feel whenever i see a new justhockey fic <3 i mean seriously, do you need to read more than those two little summary paragraphs to be convinced to read this gem of a fic? i don't think you do. click the link, you know you want to <3

honey came in and she caught me red-handed | lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz | 9.3k | E

buck accidentally sends eddie nudes; they fuck it out. so hot so good so them <3 oh how i love buddie accidentally sending each other nudes, and this fic is right there among the very best of them!!

if only in my dreams | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 9.2k | GA

Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it. at this point a michelle rec list isn't a michelle rec list without a fic by songbvrd on it lol. what can i say, i know what i like, and this author happens to write a lot of it! i love buck going a little bit insane over eddie moving and his decorating and the buddie and just everything <3

pluto is not a planet. | gooondocks (happyhauntt)/@happyhauntt | 3.2k | GA

buck finds out that pluto isn't a planet anymore and takes it very personally. this fic is so so gorgeously written. the most beautiful character study introspection buck fic. genuinely just that good <3

with all the clouds around (it's never been clearer than now) | seachanged | 2.4k | T

It happens on a Saturday. Or, it starts on a Friday that turns into Saturday, the easy joy of the night tipping over into the pale, vulnerable light of the morning; dazzling in its inevitability.  the buddie dynamic here is so so good, a little teasing and a little flirty but mostly so very soft <3 lovely fic!!

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

INDIANA JONES is effortlessly paternal. It’s most apparent when you’re at your worst. Fussy about being hungry means you give him a lot of attitude, but he knows how to get past it almost like he studied your mood swings in school.

“There’s nothing you have that I could possibly want.” you tell him, and he answers your sharp quip with an unconvinced, “Right.” Stepping away to flip a satin cover off a tray. His large hand dwarfs a green apple, taking one simple bite while you hound after him. He eyes you as you wrap your hands around his, guiding the fruit to your mouth as you stand on the tips of your toes to reach. Pliantly, he feeds it to you, watching you mouth on its flesh with pleasured moans of hunger satiated.

Juice drips down your chin as the crisp apple is audibly chewed, and he raises the tray into your view, revealing ripe grapes and a mango. Your eyes sparkle with gratitude, plucking the platter from his grasp and rounding him to retreat to your room. Now that you’re primed, he leisurely follows after you. You’ve got a harsh tongue when you haven’t eaten, so now that that’s quelled, he’s got an ulterior motive to execute.

A thick finger reaches to tap the generous and dazzling chain link of gems around your neck, “Always wear your jewels to bed, princess?” When he’d complimented your outfit earlier, he’d attributed you to royalty, and now he was calling on it again. It makes you smile, laying the tray onto your silk bed. You whirl around, feeling especially coy even though you haven’t caught on to how skillfully he manipulates you.

“Yeah,” You nod. “and nothing else.”

It doesn’t take any clearer an invitation, and Indiana invites himself into your bed. Ankles have a home on his broad shoulders, using those rough hands to pick your hips up, raising them into his bucks. The man’s colossal, slamming into you at reckless pace that you would’ve scolded him for if he were anyone else. You’ve always been treated delicately because you’ll bite the head off of anyone who can’t nurture you the way you insist on, but ol’ Indy’s found a way around it. Or more accurately, his way that plows right through it.

“Where’s the fire now, huh, princess? Miss it when you were feisty.” Smug and husky from effort, that cruel statement shoots lightning up your spine, arching your back off the mattress as you clutch onto the sheets.

“Oh, Indy.” you sigh, sloppy wet sounds filling the room as the biggest cock you’ve ever taken bullies your insides. “Didn’t mean to,” you plead, “I know I can be a lot to… ah! Handle.”

“I’ll say. All that pretty head is concerned with is herself, ain’t that right, honey?”

The twist in your face deepens as he straightens on his knees, taking you with him and his tip hits a new angle. Your legs stick straight up, an arm securing you around the thighs as he fucks your elevated hole. Squeals of pleasure rip from your throat.

“Never met a girl so self-centered. Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re in good hands. Gonna screw that right outta you.”

[aphroditelovesu]

Since requests are closing in a few days, I just wanted to put another one in. No rush go get it done of course!

I want to request a oneshot/reaction where Alexander gives reader a really, REALLY expensive necklace. Maybe it's a wedding present, a just because present , or something following the birth of the twins. You can decide what you want to do with that 😁!

Also, I keep picturing a necklace made of opal??? Not only is it a stunning gem stone, but it was also thought to be the tears of Zeus in ancient Greece, which would be an interesting tie to Alexander. Again, it's just a suggestion. You can use whatever gemstone you want!

Thanks, and take care ❤️❤️❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally decided to write it. I got a little carried away, so it's a little big, but I hope you like it and if you want to order anything else, feel free, anon! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluff and very soft!Alexander.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,308.

Alexander wanted to find something to give you. Something expensive and extravagant, something that would leave you impressed.

He felt like he owed you that. Not only had you given birth to his children, but you were loved by him and he wanted to please you. He thought of several options: a horse, silk clothes, food and even drink. He still wasn't sure what you might like.

Until he had an idea after talking to Hephaestion. He was the one who gave you the idea of giving you a necklace made from a special and rare gem. And he knew it was the right choice to make.

It was no easy task to get a merchant to have the necklace he liked and deemed worthy of you to wear around your delicate neck, but after the fifth try with a different merchant, he finally knew what your gift should be. He decided to gift you with an opal necklace, a jewel that reflected the beauty and mystery of his passion.

It would change color and he would know that it would look beautiful and graceful on your neck. Everything about you was beautiful and graceful, so the necklace would only stand out on you and no one else.

This opulent piece was adorned with the most dazzling opals that could be found in the entire Empire. Each stone sparkled with vibrant colors, dancing like the aurora borealis reflected in the starry night. The necklace was a unique treasure, a harmony of opalescent hues, displaying hues of celestial blue, emerald green, and royal purple.

The merchant who sold it told him a story about the necklace and it was this story that convinced him to buy it. According to the Persian merchant, legend said that opals were gifts from star spirits, who bestowed their blessings on those who used them with love and wisdom. The necklace was not just a piece of jewelry, but a source of magical power. Its colors and reflections were believed to contain the essence of nature, connecting the wearer to the spiritual realms and bringing fortune and protection.

Whoever owned the opal necklace was seen as a keeper of ancient secrets, an heir to the ancient magic that flowed through the precious stones. It was said that opal possessed the ability to amplify intuition and creativity, allowing the wearer to see beyond the ordinary, opening doors to new possibilities and inspiration.

After this explanation, Alexander knew that this necklace must be yours. Not just because of your story, but because of who you were. From when you really came. No one was more worthy than you.

There was also another version of the story that convinced him to buy it. Knowing how religious Alexander was, the merchant also told him that the opal was made from the tears of Zeus. Long ago, at the beginning of Greek civilization, when the gods walked among mortals, Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, shed tears of joy and sorrow over human fate. These tears, upon touching the earth, transformed into radiant stones known as opals, carrying within them the duality of emotions of the great god.

Thus was born the opal, a legendary gem forged by Zeus' own tears. Each stone was shaped from divine emotions, capturing the essence of heaven and earth. Its unique iridescence reflected not only the colors of the rainbow, but also the contrasting feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair, harmonized in an eternal dance of light and shadow. Ancient sages believed that the necklace was not just a manifestation of beauty, but rather a link between mortals and the gods. It was said that whoever wore the opal necklace would be enveloped in the protection of Zeus and would have the divine wisdom to navigate life's challenges.

And maybe when little Aella grew up, he could give her a necklace similar to the one he chose for you.

He smiled at the thought and with the necklace inside a small wooden box with gold ornaments, he walked to the room you shared in the Babylonian palace. Straightening his posture, Alexander knocked on the door and after hearing a soft ''come in'', he opened the door and smiled widely when he saw you sitting in a padded chair with Aella in one arm and Cyrus in the other. He fell silent when he realized the twins were asleep.

You looked at him and smiled softly when you saw what he had in his hands. Alexander placed the box on a table next to the bed and approached you, carefully taking Cyrus in his arm. You smiled lovingly when you saw him cuddling the baby in his arms.

Whispering, Alexander says, ''I have something for you.''

You smiled and asked curiously, ''What is it?''

Alexander carefully picked up the box with the arm that wasn't swinging Cyrus and placed him on your lap, looking at you expectantly. You smiled and opened the box with a little difficulty due to the sleeping child in your arms. Your eyes widened when you saw the lush opal necklace. You had never seen such beautiful jewelry.

Alexander, who was watching you like a hawk, smiled at you.

''Alexander, that's…'' You swallowed and took the necklace in your hand, carefully observing its details. The necklace was a magnificent piece, a heavenly masterpiece that captivated the eyes of all who dared to gaze upon it. Every aspect of the necklace was a symphony of intertwined beauty and magic.

The centerpiece of the necklace consisted of a main opal, a generously sized gem that radiated an unparalleled iridescent glow. This central opal was an explosion of celestial color, with soft, shimmering hues that moved like an aurora borealis trapped within the gemstone. Its tones ranged from the deep blue of twilight to the lush green of enchanted forests, and occasional glimpses of the deep red of divine fire.

Around the main opal, a series of smaller opals were skillfully arranged, forming a necklace that seemed to have been woven by the stars' own hand. Each smaller gem had its own color personality, some glowing an ethereal blue, others a crystalline green, and still others with purple and gold hues reminiscent of the sun setting over distant mountains.

The structure of the necklace was as intricate as the reflections of the opals. Delicate strands of gold wove between the gems, creating a sparkling frame that complemented the iridescence of the opals. Small, intricate metal sculptures, decorated with designs that resembled star constellations, adorned the necklace, giving it an aura of ancient magic.

''Do you like it?'' Alexander asked after you remained silent, observing the necklace with a strange expression.

''I loved it.'' You whispered, admiring the necklace. Alexander walked over to you and took the necklace from your hands and placed Cyrus back in your arms, careful not to wake him. He stood behind you and removed your hair from your neck, placing the magnificent necklace around your neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the touch of his calloused fingers on your skin and sighed when the necklace was placed on you.

''I'm glad, it suits you.'' He kissed your neck affectionately and you closed your eyes, smiling.

Alexander leaned closer to your ear and whispered, ''When I heard the story about the opal… I knew it would have to be yours and yours alone.''

You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking at him. ''And what is this story?''

Alexander smiled widely and after kissing your forehead, he began to tell you both stories he had heard from the merchant. You just listened in silence, delighting in his words, with your sleeping children on your arm and the weight of the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Your small, loving family.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 5

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: This definitely should've been two parts...

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood, Rhys is sweet but oblivious, autumn court men are pigs, SMUT (mwhahaha),

Word Count: 9,218 (I don't wanna talk about it)

For about the hundredth time that evening I had given myself the once over. The afternoon had been spent with handmaidens all over me, styling my hair, lining my eyes in kohl, polishing my nails in Autumn Court red, shining the diamond necklace given to me by Eris, and making sure I lived up to my name. 

I was surprised by how simple the dress was that was chosen for me. The handmaidens said they wanted to let my natural beauty show, as well as my new collar, I mean necklace. I ran my hands over the large, freshly polished gems. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get used to the weight of it. 

I made my way to the foyer where I knew my brother and his Inner Circle would be waiting. Anxiety filled my chest. Tonight I would be dancing and mingling with hundreds of people, but I only cared about one. The man Azriel was currently nudging with his elbow to get him to turn around. 

Cassian was lethal in fighting leathers and he was deadly in his most casual clothes, but the jacket and pants he wore tonight? It was a miracle I was still standing upright. 

His eyes shot to me and his mouth parted slightly, sucking in a breath. Those eyes, those hazel eyes, how they burned a hole right through my soul. Right through the gown and the jewels and straight into the heart of me. Cassian looked at me the way every female dreamed of being looked at. 

“You look amazing sister,” Rhysand said, pulling my attention from Cassian. 

I turned to where my brother stood with Mor, who was clad in her usual jaw dropping red. I hadn’t seen my brother in so long. With the war getting closer and things with Eris getting more intense I hadn’t seen him since that initial day at the Autumn Court four weeks ago. While I missed his face, it reminded me of the sacrifices he made for me, and reminded me why marrying Eris was so important. 

“You clean up pretty good too, Rhys,” I smiled, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I have something for you,” Rhys grinned, waving a hand in the air to pull a dazzling tiara seemingly from mid air. “I went into the vaults and grabbed this. It was mother’s, and I thought you might like to wear it.” 

The tiara was beautiful and the moment it appeared in his hand I recognized it. It was one of our mothers favorites, made to look like a crown of shooting stars flying across her head like a halo. I had forgotten how magnificently she used to dress everyday. 

“Oh Rhys,”  I cried, throwing my arms around him while tears welled up in my eyes. 

“I know, I miss her too,” he murmured into my shoulder. 

“Help me put it on?” I ask him, pulling away and wiping my tears. 

“Of course,” he smiled with his own eyes glassed over. He bent down slightly to place the tiara on my head before standing back to admire it. “She would’ve been so proud of you.” 

“I think she would’ve been proud of both of us,” I beam at him, rubbing circles over the tops of his hands. “Now enough with the nostalgia, I’m going to cry off all my makeup. Let’s go party.” I laugh off my tears. 

“Yeah c’mon Rhys you’re going to make us all sad drunks,” Mor said, clasping her hand in Cassian’s and winnowing them out. 

Rhys held my fingers tight as he winnowed us along with her and Azriel was moments behind us. The second that the smell of damp leaves and woodsmoke filled my senses I felt a shudder run down my spine. I told myself that tonight with Eris would be different, but if the last time he had too much wine was any indication of how this evening would go…

The ballroom was filled with members of every court as my brother led me into the large space,  Cassian’s looming presence flanking my right side. It was impressive to see all the different types, colors and textures of clothing. It would make a lovely and chaotic painting if anyone ever had the will to commission it. Of course, Night Court black stood out like a sore thumb, but I certainly didn’t mind. It’s not like my brother and I weren’t the center of attention everywhere we went anyways. I looked to Rhys to find his eyes rapidly scanning the sea of people and I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.   

“She isn’t here brother,” I said quietly into his ear. 

“Who isn’t here?” he asked, trying to play the fool. 

“The cursebreaker you’ve been searching the crowd for,” I laugh. “I asked Eris if she would be in attendance and he said that Tamlin and her had not replied to his invitation.” 

“You asked Eris for me?” Rhys said, finally turning his head to me in surprise. 

“Well I didn’t tell him why I wanted to know whether or not they were attending. I just asked casually. I secretly hoped you’d get to see her,” I smiled. 

“You’re a wonderful little sister, you know that?” Rhys smiled, pressing a kiss to my cheek. 

“Yeah yeah you big softie,” I laughed, nudging his shoulder. From the corner of my eye I could see Eris making his way through the crowd with two glasses of wine in hand. 

“Rhysand, princess, we’re overjoyed that you could make it.” Eris smiled that conniving smile. “For you my little flame,” he said, handing me a goblet of wine and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.  

“We’re happy to have been invited,” Rhysand smiles and I swear I hear two females faint somewhere in the room. 

“Walk with me darling?” Eris says, extending an arm to me. I take it but not before glancing to my right once to see the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

As we pace around the border of the room I see why Eris chose to promenade first and dance later. It felt like every single eye in the room followed the same pattern. First they widened at the sight of me, then they flicked over to Eris, down to our linked arms and finally back to me once again. Their stares were stifling, I hadn’t been around this many people since under the mountain. 

Eris didn’t want to promenade first to finish our drinks, oh no. He wanted everyone in this godsforsaken room to see that the Jewel belonged to him. The smirk on his face was a dead give away. 

“You look ravishing tonight little flame,” Eris whispered into my ear, his breath hot in my neck. “That's why they’re all staring.”

“Don’t worry I’m used to the staring,” I replied truthfully trying to avoid all the eyes on me. 

“I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “Stay used to it pet, I have every intention of parading you around all night. Let them stare all they want. It’s only a problem if they touch.” 

His words sent ice through my veins. It didn’t matter how many cruel or shocking things Eris said to me. Each and every time they cut like knives, taking a little piece of me with them that I would never get back. 

“Is that the Jewel?” crooned a too familiar voice. I turned my head to find Helion standing in all his glory, a friendly smile plastered on his face. 

“Helion!” I smiled, embracing him warmly. It had been too long since I felt the warmth of my friend's gaze. 

“My dear you look exquisite as always,” he smiled, twirling me around so he could see all of me. “Your brother keeps you on too short a leash, I haven’t seen you since, well, since we were under the mountain.” 

Eris’ body tightened next to me as he slid a hand possessively around the small of my waist, pulling me into his side, “Indeed, Helion, but rest assured, she's in good hands now. And her leash is exactly where it needs to be.” His words carried a veiled threat. 

“That’s right,” Helion smiled, ever the charmer.  “I heard that Rhysand had finally given her away. Congratulations to the both of you.” 

“Oh we aren’t engaged yet, just courting.” I smile nervously, placing my hand on Eris' chest in an attempt to keep him from blowing his top off. 

“Yes just courting, for now,” he smirked, nuzzling my neck. 

My body might’ve been wrapped around Eris like a lovesick fool, but I let my eyes convey the truth to my friend. Helion looked at me with a sad remorse and I knew then and there that he had put the pieces together. 

“I’ll leave you two love birds be,” he said trying to hide his disdain. “I think I hear Thessan calling me.”

We bid our goodbyes and I slammed what was left of my wine and placed it on the side table of the chaise next to us. 

“I didn’t think I’d have to share tonight,” Eris rolled his eyes, continuing our walk around the perimeter. 

“You can’t court the Jewel and get upset that everyone else wants to as well,” I scoff at his insolence. 

“I am going to be High Lord, I can do whatever I want,” Eris seethes, stopping our stride and pulling my arm towards him so that I slam into his chest. 

“Eris stop you’re making a scene,” I say tightly trying to pull my wrist from his grasp. 

“Good, that's exactly what I want – to cause a scene. Let them look,” he growls, hurling his lips towards mine. His kiss is anything but polite and High Lord-ly and from the strong taste of wine and whiskey on his lips I underestimated how drunk he already was. Behind me I could faintly hear gasps of the people around us, no doubt bearing witness to the very public display of power he was putting on.  

He pulls his lips from mine and stares at me with a predatory gaze and as both our chests heave, “Now that’s better,” he smirks. 

I resist the urge to wipe my mouth off as I pluck another glass of wine from a silver tray and down it. Gods this night was just getting started and it already couldn’t get any worse. 

“I want to dance,” I say abruptly to Eris. If we dance there’s a chance that someone might cut in and save me for at least a minute or two. 

“Fine, let’s go.” Eris grumbles downing his wine as well. 

He leads me out onto the dance floor and the crowd of dancers parts for us.  For what specific reason? I can’t name why. Maybe it’s to get a good look at me, or maybe it’s because Eris is truly that terrifying. Either way I can’t help but feel like I’ve been placed in a glass box and suspended where the crystal chandelier is in the middle of the room. 

Eris leads me into a dance and I don’t miss how tight his grip is on my waist, practically warning off anyone who might try and whisk me away from him. There goes that wonderful plan. 

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Eris complimented me and I noticed him trying to seem more sober. 

“Thank you, my father taught me when I was a little girl,” I replied looking around the room. 

From the second I had stepped onto the floor I could feel that searing gaze that took me apart bit by bit following me throughout my waltz. Finally I saw Cassian at the edge of the room with Azriel. Both of them leaning against the edge of the wall, wings tight on their bodies to keep people from brushing into them. Azriel whispered something into Cassian’s ear that had him downing his drink. 

“I wish you could see the looks of envy around the room,” Eris said low into my ear, his voice carrying an undertone of possessiveness. “Envy of what I have. Envy of what they'll never possess. You've been this mythical thing for so long, and now you're utterly tangible, and more importantly, you're mine.”

“I’m not yours yet, Eris. You would do well to remember that.” I utter to him trying my best to keep my voice even. 

Before he can even have a chance to lash out at me, a throat clears next to us halting our movements. I turn my gaze from Eris' fiery gaze and find Cassian standing before us and I curse my heart from nearly leaping out of my chest at the way he’s staring Eris down, like he heard every word he said. 

“Princess, would you honor me with a dance?” Cassian said, his usual tone of confidence laced with uncertainty. 

“I would love to Cassian,” I smile, feeling my cheeks blush.

“Over my dead body would she dance with the likes of you,” Eris simmers, pulling me closer to him. His grip on my arm was like a brand. 

“No, you don’t get to speak for her,” Cassian growls, grasping the hand Eris has on me.

“Eris this isn’t very High Lord-ish behavior,” I grumbled under my breath feeling even more eyes find our little disagreement. 

“He’s a bastard pet, he would soil you.” Eris replies, trying his best to show his restraint as he and Cassian engage in the biggest staredown this court has ever seen. 

“Yes, a bastard with nothing to lose and a dance with the Jewel to gain. Remember what I said about that arm Prince Eris? It would be a pity if you couldn’t hunt next season,” Cassain said back, his words a not so veiled threat. 

“One dance,” Eris chides. “Then I want her returned to me.” He dips a hand under my chin to place a kiss on  my lips, no doubt trying to antagonize Cassian further. 

If Cassian is provoked by the gesture he doesn’t show it. He simply sweeps me up into a dance the second the next song starts. His arms around me contrast the feeling of Eris so well. They’re warm and strong compared to Eris, who has a touch so cold it could freeze over hell. I take a deep breath to ground myself, Cassian’s scent of cedar and leather fills my senses and puts me at ease. 

“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble,” he said and I could tell he meant it. He probably assumed that Eris would behave more accordingly in such a public setting. 

“No you actually saved me,” I laughed, falling easily into step with him. 

“You look beautiful tonight, I don’t think I got a chance to tell you that earlier,” Cassian said tightly, like the words might hurt him. The tension in the air following what happened with Eris still thick.  

“No I don’t think you did,” I replied and mentally cursed myself at how dumb it sounded. I get compliments all the time, and I always respond with grace and poise like I was taught. But something about Cassian takes away every piece of training away from me, for a moment I’m just a regular person. 

“Then I’m a fool and I should’ve said it sooner,” he replied, spinning me out and pulling me back in. I was surprised by how well he moved on the dance floor. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” I smile and his eyes that were previously on his feet now meet mine. 

“I can’t. I had Mor teach me this one so I could dance with you at least once tonight. That’s why I’ve been so short with you, I’m counting my steps,” Cassian laughs, blush tinting his cheeks. “Once this song is over Az is going to cut in so I don’t have to face the embarrassment of trying to dance to whatever they play next.”

It takes me a minute to process all that he’s said, and as I’m trying to read his face to see if he’s telling the truth or not I can see his lips twitching as he counts his steps in his head. A smile breaks across my lips and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh Cassian,” I giggle, pressing my forehead into his shoulder. His arms immediately pull me close and I relish the feeling. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you.” 

“Of course, anything for you princess,” he smiles and for a moment I’m transported back into that dark hallway. I suddenly become all too aware of our joined hands, his hand on my waist flexing like he’s scared to have it there. 

“You’re actually a really wonderful dancer,” I laugh trying to keep myself from throwing myself at him. 

Cassian’s mouth turns up to the side as his eyes burn into mine, “one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” he counts. I let out another laugh as we continue to spin around the room, he even throws in a lift every now and then when he forgets the steps. 

The song is over all too soon and within seconds of the last note being played Azriel steps in with a gracious bow. 

“Princess,” the shadowsinger greets me.

“Azriel,” I curtsey. 

“Thanks brother,” Cassian smiles, clapping Azriel on the back before heading out.

“Don’t mention it,” Az nods, taking me in his arms and beginning to waltz me around. “Did he tell you?” 

“Yes he did,” I laugh remembering the blush that covered his cheeks when he did. Never in my life did I think I would see my general, The Lord of Bloodshed, blush. “Have you been practicing with Mor too?” I raise an eyebrow. 

“No actually,” Azriel says, spinning me around in a circle. “Dancing has always come quite naturally to me.”

“Well I’d even dare to say that you’re a better dance partner than Eris,” I smile as Azriel dips me with the grace that only a warrior could possess. 

“Speaking of Eris, I saw what happened. Are you okay?” Azriel asks quietly, pulling me closer so that no one can hear us. 

“As okay as I can be. Gods everything about this room is stifling.” I roll my eyes. 

“Would you like to get some air outside?” he asks me and I nod. 

Azriel leads me out to the terrace at the back of the ballroom. When we get there I expect to see at least one couple sticking their tongues down each other's throats. But when the chill night air hits my bare skin it’s easy to see why we’re the only ones out here. I lean my back against the railing as Azriel closes the wooden doors behind us, the sound of the symphony and chattering people becoming muffled. 

Az pulls a corked bottle of wine out from behind his back with a cheeky grin, “You looked like you might need this.” he says pulling out the cork with a pop.  

“You’re a literal savior Az,” I smile, taking the bottle from him and putting it to my lips. It was the same wine I complimented Beron on and it slid down all too easy.  

Azriel leans against the banister with me as we look out over the Autumn Court. Darkness envelops the land  so that the only thing to be seen are a few fae lights and of course, the stars. I smile at the sky for a moment. No matter where I go or whom I marry, night will always follow me, and there’s a comfort there. 

“So you’re really going through with this?” Azriel croons, his voice laced only with curiosity. 

“I am,” I nod, swigging from the bottle again. “Eris is a viper, but he has something we need. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my people and my family safe.” 

“You deserve to marry for love y/n. You deserve to be happy too. You think that Rhys is the only one who made sacrifices for you and our court but you went under that mountain too.” he points out using that big brother tone he loves to use so much. 

“Saving my court will make me happy.” 

“But is marrying Eris what you truly want?” he asks honestly, trying to get to the root of things. So I let him have it.

“Gods no Az. Look at me. Eris has already made me his little pet with this ridiculous necklace. I  don’t think I could ever love Eris or be truly happy with him. But he’s been very clear about me bearing him many children, maybe I’ll find my happiness in them,” I rant, chugging more wine trying to drown out the sound of the voices in my head. 

“What about Cassian?” Azriel asks and my heart nearly stops. I don’t even let myself breathe for a moment. 

“What about him, Azriel?” I sigh, turning around and pressing my back to the bannister so that I could see the wooden doors that lead back to the viper den of aristocrats.   

“You obviously have feelings for him,” Azriel scoffs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What makes you say that?” I laugh. Azriel is dangerously close to covering the truth, one I haven’t had the guts to admit to myself. Because saying the words out loud? They would crumble the very foundations I stand upon, and then what would be left? 

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“And how do I look at him? Huh?” I try to keep the fierce facade. 

“You look at him the same way every man, woman, and child looks at you.” Azriel blurts out, his voice laced with frustration. “Hell even I used to look at you that way till I realized I couldn’t hold a candle to the way you look at Cassian.” 

I crumble. Every thought I have falls apart at Azriel making such a statement because I know it’s true. But to acknowledge it, or even worse, to act on it? How selfish of a person would that make me? To turn my back on my brother who saved me under the mountain. To possibly deny him the chance to be with his mate, the cursebreaker, because he dies in battle. To risk Azriel’s life because he has to be on the front lines. To risk the lives of every man, woman and child in my court. 

I had thought about it, gods I had. Especially at night, when I woke from my nightmares of being under the mountain. Or when I dreamt of that small female puppy in Eris’ kennels. It would’ve been so easy for me to walk into Cassian’s room just one door down and ask him to hold me. Oh gods I wanted him to hold me. But it couldn’t be and that killed me. 

“You’re bold shadowsinger,” I gritted my teeth, sipping the last of the wine. “I’ll give you that. But if you’ll excuse me, Eris is probably looking for me.”  

I shove the empty bottle of wine into his chest and thrust open the doors. I hear him call out for me clearly feeling bad about what he had said, but I don’t turn back. Tears prick my cheeks and I know that if I face Azriel once more and show him the truth I’ll fall apart completely. 

My eyes scan the crowd for Eris, and admittedly Cassain. The latter is nowhere to be seen, but eventually I find Eris lounging on a chaise with a few of his friends, all of them clad in Autumn Court attire laughing boisterously. I walk over to him dodging everyone in front of me, wine clouding my mind. 

“There she is,” Eris slurs, the wine from 4his glass nearly spilling out as he sits it on an end table. “Come here my pet,” he smirks, pulling me down to sit on his lap. 

I grab the wine he set down and sip from it as I take in the men around us. At first glance I can tell they are all pompous assholes by the way they rake their gaze down my body. One even has the nerve to cock his eyebrow at me and my head turns to Eris to avoid his gaze.  

“Isn’t she exquisite gentlemen?” Eris asks, nuzzling my neck. 

A collective murmur of agreement falls upon the small group.

 “The Jewel of Prythian,” Eris says, kissing my neck and I try to squirm out of his grasp but he only pulls me closer to him. 

“I’ll say!” one of the men cheer causing the whole group to chuckle. 

Eris’ mouth falls from my neck to my collar bone, “Have I told you yet tonight that this corset is doing wonders for your perfect tits pet?” he murmurs licking a long stripe up the side of my neck earning a round of tantalizing ‘ohhhs’ from his friends. At this rate I’m surprised they all haven’t whipped their cocks to enjoy the show Eris was so happily putting on. 

“He’s not wrong,” says another man and I feel Eris smirk against the tops of my breasts. He’s enjoying the game of dangling me in front of his friends. A forbidden fruit only he can indulge in. 

“I wonder how many males have fucked those tits,” crooned another bringing laughter to the forefront once more. 

Eris laughs, “She’s completely untouched,” he smirks into my skin. “I’ll be the first.”

The men utter how impressed they are. Some mention how jealous they are. My heart rate quickens knowing that I couldn’t have walked into a worse situation.

“Eris,” I hiss quietly, my eyes scanning the room for Cassian but he’s nowhere to be seen still. I even look for Azriel or my brother, but the room is so packed full of people I can’t make anyone out. 

“You know I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Eris croons and I know that tone, the one that means something terrible is about to happen. “When you said I don’t own you yet?” 

“Eris stop you’re drunk,” I say low as I try to wiggle out of his grasp but it only instigates him more. 

“Well the idea that you weren’t truly mine yet based on a technicality didn’t sit right with me little flame,” he started, blatantly ignoring my protests. “So while I let you dance with your filthy dog I ran downstairs to the vault.” 

No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. 

“And I grabbed this,” he says, pulling out a ring so large I was surprised he was able to keep it hidden. Eris grabbed my left hand with unnecessary force and slid the thing on my ring finger. The weight of it nearly made me hurl. “Now you are mine. I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain, it’s been a month of courting and I’ve decided you will make a very obedient and agreeable wife.” 

“And don’t forget fuckable!” the first man who spoke cheered. 

“Yes, I’ll enjoy ruining you, my pet,” Eris smirks, kissing me softly. 

“Hell yeah we need an heir!” 

These men know no morals, no shame, no compassion. If my brother heard a fraction of what they were saying…Yes, my brother. Gods he probably heard so much worse with Amarantha.

“I can promise you all that an heir will be in her belly within a month,” Eris announced to his cadre, earning cheers from them all as they drank from their cups.  

I knew it was coming. I think in my heart I always did. From the moment I met Eris he had never once given me any indication that he wouldn’t marry me. Hell even if he hated me it was evident that he had every intention of marrying me just so he could say he deflowered and owned the Jewel of Prythian. I knew all of this and yet I still felt blindsided. 

“What do you say pet? Shall we start trying now?” Eris croons, earning another rally from his companions. 

“Eris that’s enough,” I grunt, pushing him off for good this time. The men around us laugh at my reluctance as I stand to my feet. 

“You little!” Eris seethe standing up right after me and gripping my arm.

“Bend her over your knee and spank her Eris!” drunkenly laughed a man. 

“You touch me right now and our marriage will be void by the laws of your court!” I growl, reminding him. 

“I am the High Lord, I'll change them myself!” he growls at me. 

“Not yet you aren’t,” I scorn him, nothing short of murder in my eyes. “I will see you in three days time to begin planning the wedding. I expect you to be sober and act with the morals befitting of a future High Lord.”

I free my arm from his grasp, leaving him to contend with the embarrassment of failing to control his future wife in front of his companions. I rip off the engagement ring and pocket it, unable to stand the weight of it. My eyes dart around for Cassian and when I don’t find him I grab a bottle of wine from one of the unattended tables. I make my way to the front door, choosing to walk all the way back to the Night Court if necessary. As I reach for the door it’s pulled back by the other side revealing a very disheveled Cassian.

“There you are, I was looking for you,” I grumble, still agitated from Eris’ antics.

“You look upset, what happened?” he slurs slightly. 

“Are you drunk?” I ask tapping my foot in the still half open doorway. 

“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question, what the hell happened?” Cassian grumbled straightening up and pushing the fog from his brain. 

“Eris happened,” I complained, gesturing to where he sat laughing with his companions again. “He was just showing me off and talking about making an heir and all that shit. It doesn’t matter. I stole some wine, let's go.” I huff starting to move past him. 

“No that’s it, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Cassian seethes and begins to move past me, but I place a hand on him stopping him.

“No stop,” I protest standing in front of him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Eris. “I’ve had enough drama for one night. Please just take me home.” 

Cassian doesn’t take his gaze off the future High Lord, his breathing picking up, the siphons he had on his hands glowing. 

“Cassian,” I whisper, his name for only him to hear. His gaze falls to mine and softens. “Take me home.” I plead. 

 His eyes go soft at my pleas and I see him come back to earth, “Let’s go,” he says leading me out the door. 

We step out into the night air and waltz down the steps. Each and every step that we take pulls me further away from that cursed room, and as the sound of music and chatter get even further away I start to feel myself relax more. Cassian’s presence is like an anchor that keeps my feet on the ground. I am  comfortable. I am safe.

 We reach the bottom of the long stairway, and Cassian stops in his tracks. I turn to find him looking a little shocked, like he just remembered something. 

“What is it?” I ask taking a step towards him. 

“I uh,” he stumbles over his words. “I got you something.”

 He turns around to a large potted plant at the base of the long steps leading up to the ballroom. His large form bends down to pick up something that’s behind it and when he emerges once more he holds a puppy in his arms. I can’t help but gasp as the puppy wiggles to life, looking comically small in the Illyrians arms. I set down the stolen bottle of wine so that I can see her.

“I might’ve gotten a little drunk and broken into Eris’ kennels to get her,” he laughs passing her into my arms. “You just loved her so much and you kept talking about her and… I just couldn’t leave her.” 

The puppy wiggled in my arms licking my face like she had remembered me from our first meeting. I know I would know her face and markings anywhere. 

“Oh Cassian you have no idea how much this means to me,” I beam tears gracing my eyes. 

“I figured we could find her a better home, somewhere she will be loved,” Cassain smiled.

It that moment I don’t think I could’ve ever loved him more. I looked up to see him watching the puppy wiggling in my arms. Everything about him was so beautiful, from his sharp jawline to the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his low bun. I couldn’t help myself. I stood on my tip toes and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you Cassain,” I smile at him as I watch that blush return to his cheeks.

“Anything for you princess,” he reminds me. “Now we really have to get going before someone figures out I stole that thing.” Cassian laughs picking up the bottle of wine and then me. 

We take off into the air and I can’t help but let out a laugh at how ridiculous this all looks. A general, his princess, a stolen puppy and a stolen bottle of wine making a beeline for the Night Court. 

Cassian and I land on the terrace of the House of Wind in a fit of laughter recalling stories of his and my brother's adolescent lives.  

“I couldn’t help myself, he was some prick in his new training clothes and I was a kid with nothing. He deserved to get a little beat up!” Cassian laughed, the most real one I had ever heard from him. 

“He probably deserved it. Rhys is terrible at first impressions,” I giggle thinking of how haughty my young brother used to be. 

Cassian opens the door to the kitchen and living room letting us both in. The house is dark save for a few fae lights over the kitchen island. I wasn’t sure where the shadowsinger was, but whatever lady he was entertaining was certainly a lucky one. The puppy had fallen asleep in my arms on the flight home, so I set her adorable self down on one of the many plush couches. The entire time I felt Cassian’s eyes watching me intensely. 

“My buzz is starting to wear off,” I smile, turning from the pup and walking past Cassian and into the kitchen. “Let’s have a nightcap before we go to bed.”

I pull out my brothers expensive whiskey and a couple of glasses. I wait for Cassian to say something, anything, but he stays silent. The only indication that he’s still there are the raised hairs on my neck indicating that he’s watching the back of my head as I start to pour myself a glass. 

“Single or double?” I ask him, my hands holding his glass and the decanter of whiskey. 

I wait for a response, but the silence that seeps from him fills the room with an unexplainable tension. I’m suddenly all too aware of the lack of heat in the room as the hair on my arms rises and oh gods I can feel him. His presence behind me.

The sound of cool, calculated and slow footsteps echo off the walls of the room and suddenly he’s there behind me. His heat radiates towards me and I don’t dare turn around. His fingertips graze the backs of my elbows, letting me know he’s there. 

“Y/n,” his voice is like a prayer as his hands dance around the backs of my arms. My breath hitches at the utterance of my name, he never calls me by my name and the sound of it on his lips makes my toes curl.

I  slowly turn from the kitchen island and I’m met with a wall of pure muscle. I crane my head up to meet his intense gaze, and his eyes say everything. They pierce right through me. I rest my hands on his forearms letting the feel of the fabric over them ground me but it doesn’t help. He’s too close, and he’s too warm and he’s everything. 

“Cassian,” I whisper for only him to hear. 

I press a hand to his chest feeling his heartbeat beneath his shirt finding that it’s beating just as wildly as mine. My eyes meet his again and there’s a pleading there, like he might be suffering and I’m the only one who can end it. 

“Kiss me,” I breathe. 

His hand sweeps under my chin pulling his lips on mine and I suddenly realize why the romance novels I’ve read describe it as earth shattering. Cassian’s hands fall to my waist and I feel like I’m on fire everywhere his body meets mine. His lips feel like heaven against my own, nothing like the way  Eris kisses me. No, Cassian kisses me like he might love me. My hands grip his shirt and pull him closer. 

I feel his fingers slide down my waist and beneath my thighs. He hoists me up, dress skirts and all, onto the counter and I suddenly have much better access to him. His mouth wanders down my neck leaving wet kisses all over me. I place a hand behind me to get more support and the empty whiskey glass shatters on the tile floor. 

The large necklace Eris gave me gets in the way of his kisses and I feel my blood boil for a moment. How could I belong to Eris when Cassian kisses me like this?  When he holds me like I’m his everything? 

I capture my lips in Cassian’s once more pulling him away from my neck. His mouth is warm and soft on mine. My fingers find the front of the ridiculous necklace and I tear it off, the sound of the clasp breaking reverberating through the house. Cassian growls and presses his hips further between my legs, my hand slaps on the granite counter for support, the gems of the necklace clattering with it. I release it so that my hands can fly to the buttons on his shirt. The growl that had come from his lips had changed something in me. I needed him now, and I needed all of him. 

“Cassian,” I pleaded. The name rolls off my tongue with such ease. His hands roam my body and all I can think about is how I need more. More, more, more, more.

I get the top half of his shirt unbuttoned and I let my fingers roam the bare skin that lies there. He’s warm against my chilled hands, and as my fingertips brush over a long scar I can’t help but want to feel all of him. Know all of him. 

“Stop, stop,” Cassian mutters, taking my hands in his and pulling them away from his chest. 

My mind immediately starts to panic as he backs away from me. What have I done? I’ve ruined everything. I try to meet Cassian’s eyes from a few feet away but he won’t look at me. Instead he looks at his hands, like they’re covered in blood. 

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” he mutters still out of breath. 

My heart shatters. I had dreamed of kissing Cassian, of having him hold me like he was just seconds ago. Never did any of those dreams end the way this one is now. 

“Cassian I-” 

“I’m not worthy,” he breathes, never taking his eyes off his hands. “I’m not worthy of you.” 

My already shattered heart shatters again. 

I slide off the counter taking slow steps towards him waiting for him to flinch or move away but he doesn’t. I reach him placing a hand on the cheek feeling the stubble there, and despite his words I swore he leaned into my touch ever so slightly. My thumb caresses  his face, begging his eyes to meet  mine and they do. In that beautiful shade of hazel there’s a sorrow by likes of which I’ve never seen. 

“Then show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it,” I say to him, praying he hears every single word. His eyes soften. 

“Y/n,” he breathes pulling my lips to his once more and I swear right then and there that I’d do anything that man asked me if he just said my name like that again.  

My arms wrap around his neck pulling him down towards where I stand on my tiptoes to reach him. Somehow this kiss is more passionate, on both ends as I try to live up to what I’ve told him. His hands hoisted me up again, even though the skirt of my dress was debilitating. 

I feel myself being carried down the hall into a room I realize is his from this scent enveloping me from every angle. He sets me down gently, like I might break and kicks the door behind him closed. My hands find the last buttons on his shirt and I get them off with ease, my next course of action has me reaching around my back to tug at the strings of the corseted dress. I get the tie undone, but the rest is tricky. 

“Wait, stop,” Cassian orders, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you want this? Because once I start I won’t be able to stop.”

“I want this, I want all of you Cassian.” I nod still breathless and his eyes search mine for any hint of a lie. “Please,” I beg and I watch all resolve fall from his face. 

“Fuck y/n,” he moans before pressing his lips to mine.  

My hands find the bare muscles of his chest, and try to commit every line and scar to memory. I run my hands all over him, the warmth and feel of him addicting. My fingers fall lower over his abs and I swear I melt at the years of building muscle there. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You can’t touch me like that.” he growls using his hands on my hips to spin me around so my back is flush to him. 

His lips find my neck and I swear I could fall apart just by the way his mouth feels on my skin. I feel the laces on my dress get looser and looser as his fingers work them apart behind me. The second the top one is loose enough the weight of the skirt pulls the top down leaving me completely bare. My breath hitches as I feel his calloused fingers gently coaxing me to turn around and face him. The second I do my cheeks flush and I fight the urge to cover myself. 

“You’re so beautiful. I wish I knew a better way to say it than that. You are-” he loses his words, pulling me closer so my breasts are pressed to the bare skin of his chest. The feeling is euphoric. “You are everything.” he says, and it feels more like a confession. 

He leans in to kiss me once more but I press my hand to his cheek to stop him, “Cassian,” I breathe and I feel his breath hitch at the way I say his name. “I love you.” the phrase echoes through the room. 

I feel his body tense pulling me impossibly close. “Now I’m never letting you go,” he mutters, pressing his lips to mine in a fiery need.

His hands hoist me up and I wrap my arms around his shoulders for support. My aching core brushes against his abs and it takes all my self control not to shift my hips to get more friction there. He lays me gently on his bed, and I feel my back sink into his mountains of pillows. His clothed hips settle between mine and he pulls his head back to look at me. 

“I’ve loved you ever since I met you. We had just barely become adults and I walked into the townhouse for the first time and saw you reading a book by the fire and I knew,” he confessed. “I knew I loved you before I even knew your name.” 

I couldn’t stop the rogue tear that slipped from my eye at his confession. Cassian’s lips kissed the drop away before pressing his lips to mine once more. My hands threaded to his hair as he made his way down my neck leaving a trail of fire everywhere his lips brushed. 

“Can I touch you?” Cassian breathed against the valley between my breasts. 

“Yes,” I hiss needing him everywhere. 

His lips attach themselves to the aching bud of my breast, pulling it taut. I gasp, arching my back off the bed watching him roll my nipple in his mouth. His other hand reaches to twist my other breast and I swear I’ve never felt so good in my life. My hands find his long hair and tug on it, earning a groan from him that sends vibrations through me. He switches to the other side giving it the same treatment and oh gods, this man would certainly be the death of me. His lips come off my breast with a pop as he takes in the sight of me. 

“You’re perfect,” he says, pressing a kiss between my breasts once more. 

“I want you inside me,” I groan, pressing my hips into him. 

“No I’ll hurt you,” he grits, feeling my arousal press against him as he leaves kisses on my stomach. 

“Cassian please,” I cry, tears threatening to fall from the sheer need I have for him. His eyes meet mine and I know I have him right where I want him. 

“It’s going to hurt y/n,” he tells me. 

“I don’t care,” I say, leaning up a bit to cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “When I said I want all of you Cassian I meant it. You said you’d do anything for me.” 

“Fuck y/n, okay but I’m going to get you ready first,” he groans and before he can pull away I press a kiss to his forehead. 

His lips trail down my stomach once more until he gets to where I need him most. He skips over my core to leave kisses on the inside of my thighs. My body goes limp and I fall into the pillows again craning my neck to see him. A hand slides up my thigh and runs through my folds causing me to arch my back. 

“You’re so wet,” he grits out feeling the pool of arousal between my legs. 

“Cass please,” I whine, arching my hips to his mouth. 

I watch his eyes flair at the nickname and within moments his mouth is on me licking a stripe up my core that has me letting out an unnatural sound of pleasure. His tongue swirls around my entrance before licking another long stripe through my folds once more, flicking his tongue at the top. He attacks an area between my legs that has me arching off the bed and seeing stars. Surely there could be no better pleasure in the world than this. I let out a guttural moan that has Cassian smirking from where he feasts on me, his eyes lighting up in male pride. 

“Oh gods Cassian! How are you-ah!” I cry out feeling tears prick my eyes from the waves of euphoria gliding through my body, like every nerve was being caressed by his hands all at once.  

“It’s your clit y/n,” Cassian smirks. “Surely all those naughty romance books taught you about your own anatomy?”  he teases rubbing circles on the bud with his fingers. 

“No I think they- Ah! They might’ve glazed over that part.” I cry out trying to keep my  back from arching off the bed. 

“Then allow me to enlighten you,” he grinned before feasting on me once more. 

The feeling of his mouth on me had me reaching for something to grasp onto, something to ground me. Cassian must’ve noticed as seconds later I felt his rough hand grasp mine holding it tightly. His other drifted from my hip and I felt him sink a long finger into me slowly but surely. The new sensation had my heartrate picking  up even more. It skyrocketed as he started pumping it in and out of me until he added another. The knot in my stomach started to build and I could feel my body pulling closer to the edge. 

“Cassian I’m going to- OH GODS!” 

I didn’t even have time to finish the sentence before I was falling over the edge, all over him. He rode me through my orgasm before pressing a kiss to my clit. 

“You taste fucking amazing,” he says, voice deep and husky. If he had spoken to me like that in a setting where my clothes weren’t already on his bedroom floor I would’ve ripped them off just the same.

“I do?” I laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah you do,” he smiles moving up towards me. “Come here,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. 

I savor the taste of him and well, me. It’s new, and I can tell by the way his hand is ripping down his pants that he finds it just as arousing as I do. I glance down to where his aching cock springs free and it takes everything in me not to gasp at the size of it. His hand tilts my chin up to press another quick kiss to my lips. 

“Forget what I said earlier. The second you want to stop, just say the word.” he tells me. 

“No, I want this. I want you to be my first,” I assure him and I swear I feel his cock twitch against my thigh at my words. 

“Okay I’m gonna put it in, if it hurts just tell me okay princess?” he says, pressing a kiss to my brow. I nearly shudder at him calling me princess again, but this time it’s different, it doesn’t feel like a title, it feels like a loving name. 

“I will,” I nod to him. 

I watch as he guides his cock to my entrance, getting it slick with the aftermath of the orgasm he just pulled from me. I feel him sink in a bit and I start to feel the stretch. I focus my eyes on Cassain’s face. His brow is furrowed as he watches himself start to sink into me.  He pushes in further and the stretch starts to burn causing me to take in a sharp breath. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“Keep going Cass,” I breathe out as tears prick my eyes. 

He pushes in further and somehow even the pain feels good, because it’s him. Every single inch of him is flush to me and it still isn’t enough. It takes a moment but eventually his hips are brushing up to mine and he’s fully seated inside me, and gods, the feeling of being so full is the best feeling I’ve ever known. 

CASSIAN’S POV: 

As my cock finally sinks into her it takes everything in me not to pull out and slam back in. I curse myself for even thinking such a thought knowing how badly I would hurt her. 

All the while I give her time to adjust her pussy flexes and clenches around my cock and godsshe’s so fucking tight. Sweat coats my brow and my muscles quake with the need to start moving but I won’t do it until she asks me. 

“Okay move Cass, I’m ready,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips. 

Cass

Gods hearing her speak to me so informally shouldn’t make my heart beat so fast but it does.

 I pull out a little before slowly pushing back in, relishing the feeling of how warm she is around me. I look down at her to look for any signs of discomfort on her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and the little pants falling from those perfect lips are enough to send me into a coma. I begin to build a steady pace once I feel she can take it and as I do those little pants turn into cries and I swear I could cum right there. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” I groan into her neck.

She lets out another moan and I can’t help but smirk knowing what my words do to her. My eyes glance at her face as I fuck into her. Her hair sprawled out all over the pillows, her eyes closed, the look of pure pleasure on her face. I press my lips to hers unable to stop myself, not when I’ve dreamt of doing so for so long. 

Fuck how many times have I dreamt of her writhing in pleasure beneath me? The feel of her delicate hands wandering my skin? My name falling from those perfect lips? I couldn’t stop the words from falling from my mouth.

“Gods I love you so much y/n,” I say pressing my forehead to hers. 

“I love you too Cassian,” she breathes and I watch as another tear falls from her face. I bring my lips down to kiss it away, and in that moment I vow that I’ll kiss her tears away till they bury me in the ground. 

Her pussy clenches around me again as I thrust into her and I can tell by the way her finger nails are digging into my shoulders that she’s close. 

“Let go for me princess,” I murmur through ragged breaths pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“CASSIAN!” she screams cumming all over my cock. 

It’s enough to drive me over the edge with her, “Fuck y/n,” I moan as I thrust into her one last time watching her beautiful face come undone for me before I cum inside her. 

Snap. 

My eyes go wide and I’m thankful that she’s still too blissed out to notice as I feel that thread inside me that connects me to her. 

Mate.

All this time, she was my mate. The reason I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, the reason I couldn’t stay away from her. The princess was my mate. Her words from earlier continued to echo through my head…

Show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it…

I searched her face for any sign that she felt the bond snap too, but all I saw was her beaming up at me. Gods she was so beautiful. My mate was so beautiful. 

I reached for the other end of that shining golden thread and found nothing there. 

She didn’t know.

Part 6

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts, @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @dissociated-always, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study

[foreingersgod]

I love love love your writing! I was wondering if you could write something about cc dating a pop star, very much chappel roan vibes

y’all must be reading my mind! this is perfect!

Red Wine Supernova . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you’re an upcoming queer pop star who just happens to be dating the hottest player in the wnba (set slightly in the future just for the sake of plot!)

it was off season for caitlin and she was so relieved to have time off from practices and games for a while. she had now devoted all her attention to you, hardly leaving your side these past few weeks. you, on the other hand, were just starting your debut tour. a small one, only a handful of destinations, but incredibly important (and sold out) nonetheless.

yes, caitlin had heard you sing, several times in fact. but she’d been too busy with everything that she had yet to see you perform live, outside of your home studio when it was just the two of you. so when she told you that she wanted to tag along with you for the entirety of your tour, you were practically beaming with excitement.

you had worked really hard on this album and you were thrilled to finally be able to perform it to your growing fan base. you loved performing in the bustling bars of your hometown and the stadiums in surrounding cities, but you’ve always known you were meant for bigger and better things; you wanted to travel the nation and share your songs with so many different people. you were even more excited, though, to have caitlin see you up on stage. something more than just a karaoke stage in a dingy bar with just your guitar and the intensity of your voice. no matter where you sang, caitlin still made it her mission to tell you how amazing you were and how she couldn’t wait to see how much of an amazing star you were turning out to be.

“wow, just…wow” caitlin said, speechless, when she walked into your dressing room for your first show in Chicago.

you, with the help of your entire team and manager, had just got into costume. a purple leotard that dazzled with thousands of hand placed gems. pink fishnets, white go go boots, a matching purple cowboy hat, and a dozen other miscellaneous accessories to pull together the outfit.

you looked up, still trying to pull your leotard into a comfortable position, when you heard her walk in. “hey, i was gonna meet you outside! everything ok?”

“yea no we’re all good,” she looked up and down, lips slightly parted “i just couldn’t wait to see you”

“well i’m glad you came, like the outfit?” your assistants stepped away, sliding past caitlin at the door to give you both some privacy before the show, as you gave caitlin a full twirl of the outfit.

“i love it, you look beautiful, people won’t be able to take their eyes off of you” she said “and if we’re being honest…i can’t wait to take this off of you tonight”

you felt your face heat up underneath your show makeup. “a bit cheeky tonight, i see”

“well when you look so good all the time, how could i not be” she grinned, pulling you into her chest and hugging you deeply before stage management gave you a 3 minute warning. “you’re going to do so good, i’ll be watching!”

“i’ll find you in the crowd, don’t worry” a quick peck on the lips and you were being escorted to the wings of the stage before you knew it.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

“HELLOOOOOO, CHICAGO!!” you cheered into the mic, waving to fans and hyping up the crowd “i’m so happy to perform for ya’ll tonight, this has been an absolute dream of mine”

you gave the classic introduction speech: getting the crowd warmed up, announcing the songs, teaching them the dances that went along with each song. it was cliche, for sure, but you loved it. it felt like you were meant to do this your whole life. once you got rolling, getting comfortable on the stage, the feeling only got better. this was truly a dream come true.

you performed your most popular songs, along with a few of your more lesser known ones, and had the time of your life watching all of your fans sing along to something you had written. you spotted caitlin a few times through the show, watching her sing along too and cheer your name, and it made you incredibly happy to see her support you.

“alright guys, this next one’s a song i’ve been keeping from you for quite some time” the crowd whispered to each other in anticipation “but i think tonight…y’all have earned it” cheers erupted from the audience.

“i wrote thing song a while back, when i met a certain…someone…” you grinned, purposefully avoiding eye contact with your girlfriend “and i fell head over heels for her the second i saw her…so without further ado…here’s RED WINE SUPERNOVA!”

your band started playing and the audience was already dancing and cheering. you were incredibly nervous to perform a new song, and little embarrassed knowing that caitlin was going to finally here a song you wrote about her from months and months ago. but the moment you sung into the microphone, you knew she was going to love it.

through out the song, you gave quick glances over to caitlin, trying not to be obvious while wanting to see if she was enjoying it or not. but you were struggling to find her this time with the change in set lighting.

then suddenly you found her, your eyes meeting, and you instantly noticed the goofy grin plastered on her face as she watched you sing about her. still making eye contact, you continued to sing:

Well, back at my house

I got a California king

you walked over to the end of the stage, with eyes still locked.

Okay, maybe it's a twin bed

And some roommates (don't worry we're cool)

you watched her laugh as she caught on to your inside joke.

I heard you like magic

I got a wand and a rabbit

you pointed out to her and she ran her hands over her blushing face in playful embarrassment.

So baby, let's get freaky, get kinky

Let's make this bed get squeaky!

you blew a final kiss to her, the crowd interpreting it as a cute part of your routine, but she knew you had meant it just for her.

you danced around stage for the remainder of your song, kneeling down time to time to hold your fans hand and letting them sing along with you. when your set ended, you bowed to the crowd and said your finally goodbyes and thank you’s, then quickly running off stage and into your dressing room.

after catching your breathe, you started to take off your makeup and costume, again with the help of your team. caitlin had texted you shortly after that she’d meet you outside the venue so that you could have a little time to talk with your team.

once dressed in a fresh tshirt and jeans, face washed and hair tamed, you grabbed your bags and headed out to find your girlfriend. you found her waiting right outside the venue entrance where she was leaning against a post and checking her phone. she looked up almost instantly upon hearing you call her name and hearing your footsteps against the pavement.

“hey superstar!” she ran over to you, you dropped your bags to the ground as you threw your arms around the back of her neck “you fucking killed it!”

“thanks, cait” you pulled away, smashing your lips into hers feverishly “ d’you like the new song?” you muttered against her lips.

“oh i loved it” she kissed you again “you know…suddenly i’m really into magic”

“is that so?”

“definitely, and i think i got a few tricks to show you back at the hotel, how does that sound?” she cradled your jaw, nipping at your bottom lip. you tried your hardest to suppress a moan.

“take me home, clark”

[thebeautifulbook]

KING FRANÇOIS I BOOK OF HOURS (1578)

A dazzling masterpiece of the French Renaissance.

This small prayer book is bound in enamelled gold and gemstones. It was purchased in 1538 by King Francis I of France as a gift for his niece. The gems consist of carnelian (two intaglios and eight cameos), rubies (27 polished pieces), turquoise (24 cabochons) and rhodolite (one faceted stone in the book’s clasp that has been described as tourmaline since 1942). Most of the rubies were mined from the Mogok area of Burma (now Myanmar). Based on historical considerations, the turquoise could have originated from Persia or possibly Uzbekistan, and the carnelian from either India or Saxony. The faceted rhodolite from India or Sri Lanka, was most likely added to the clasp between 1842 and 1884. [view large]

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[lex-loudestwoman]

The Bejeweled Elevator is The Eras Tour

Simply put, the Bejeweled Elevator depicts the timeline of the Eras Tour and the remaining re-records! Let's get into it!

(Quick note: more pictures & links to come, this is just taking forever and I needed to get it posted before we're too far into the London shows! I've had this theory brewing since October 2023 and I'll be damned if y'all don't get to read it before it all comes to fruition.)

The Basement

The Basement is the period of time between folklore and evermore's surprise releases and the start of The Eras Tour. It begins with a shot of the golden "invisible" string that leads Taylor through the cardigan and willow music videos. We see Taylor scrubbing away at her step-sister's mess, dutifully fulfilling her role as the tired, tacky, exiled wench. Step-Mommy, Alana, Este, and Danielle seem to have taken Taylor in after a falling out with Prince Jack (oh, what a marvelous gift, for which Taylor should be most grateful). They delight in her position as their servant girl and assert their dominance over her, forbidding her from attending the grand ball. Taylor is being locked in the basement and forced to work for people who already live in excess. She clearly resents her step-family and Prince Jack, whose portrait depicts him with her cats, which represent her catalogue of original recordings.

Taylor has been working away on her own project while her controllers are not around, biding her time until exile ends and she can escape (fresh out the slammer, anyone?). With contempt in her eyes and vengeance in her heart, she meticulously sews beads onto the hooded cloak she wore to remain anonymous during the willow music video. A pocket watch appears out of thin air and tells her that her time in exile has finally ended, and she immediately begins her journey back to the penthouse to reclaim the land that was stolen from her.

The Elevator

Briefly, here is my concrete evidence that the Eras Tour is the Bejeweled Elevator.

The Capitol One Eras Commercial that released on the day the Eras Tour was announced depicts all the eras of Taylor gathered in a golden elevator.

The Eras Tour is full of visual transitions called an "elevator cut" where the screen splits in half vertically and slides open, just like elevator doors. I'd bet anything that our film director mastermind knows what that cut is called and that she has full creative license for everything Eras. None of it is accidental! (Twitter Thread here!) The same elevator cuts are used in several lyric videos, most significantly (imo) is Change.

The Eras Tour "takes us on a journey through 18 years of music," just as the Bejeweled Elevator takes Taylor on a journey through her musical career from basement to penthouse.

The Third Floor: Speak Now (Taylor's Version)

In the elevator, Taylor ascends to Floor 3. This represents the spring/summer 2023 U.S. Leg of the Eras Tour, during which she announced and released Speak Now (Taylor's Version). This time period was when Taylor started doing tons of pap walks again and was seen regularly in the public eye. She regained her sparkle, so to speak, and let herself shine in the spotlight. The media became supersaturated with Taylor Swift content - her scandal with Matty Healy & Ice Spice, her frequent public appearances, and the unbelievable success of the Eras Tour. On the 3rd floor, we see her depict exactly this - she struts a runway of dazzling gems, sheds her cloak, and leaves covered in brilliant jewels. You couldn't overlook Taylor Swift if you tried. This level of blossoming stardom and interest in her day-to-day life is reminiscent of the original Speak Now era.

She leaves this floor fully bedazzled, just as she left the August 9th show in Los Angeles in her sparkling purple shirt dress, glass of white wine in hand, formally entering the 1989 (Taylor's Version) Era.

The Fifth Floor: 1989 (Taylor's Version)

Next, Taylor ascends to Floor 5. This represents the Fall 2023 LatAm leg and Spring 2024 Oceania & Tokyo leg of the Eras Tour, during which she released 1989 (Taylor's Version). On the 5th floor, Taylor uses her sexuality to entertain alongside her dark haired twin, Dita Von Teese. This time period was marked by the frenzied consumption of Taylor's newest public relation(ship) strategy. Just like in the martini glasses on the 5th floor, Taylor learns how to embrace her dark side and uses her sexuality and alcohol to entertain a ravenous crowd. We met Vamplor and WAG Taylor on our TV screens as she cheered, brought record viewership, record jersey sales, and a whole new demographic of fans to the NFL. Her social and dating life was the subject of every. single. media outlet. Just as it was during the original 1989 era - every detail of her life was curated for our consumption.

The Thirteenth Floor: THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

We arrive at The Penthouse, where the Queen's Ball is being held! Taylor puts on the performance of a lifetime for the Queen, using the lessons she learned on the Third and Fifth Floor to wow the royal judges. She sparkles, dazzles, and shines; she leans into the fun of entertaining and shows everyone how talented of a performer she truly is.

This penthouse performance for the monarchy represents the European Leg of The Eras Tour and the release of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. The brand new TTPD set on the Eras Tour directly mimics the choreography in the music video.

Examples: The feathered fans surrounding Taylor. The two piece set in ICDIWABH. Lifted overhead. Stage & curtains background.

This leads me to make a few predictions regarding timeline and events for the rest of the tour.

The Kingdom Key and the Proposal

Needless to say, I believe the European Leg of the Eras Tour has more to surprise us with. Taylor is about to impress the Queen in London with this performance and she wins the ball! As winner, she's awarded the title of Queen, a proposal from the Prince, and most importantly to Taylor, the key to her castle.

Prince Jack is forced to propose to Housewench Taylor. This happens in front of a staged archway with tons of paparazzi snapping photos of their every move. Being awarded the key and the proposal are still part of the performance event of the 13th Floor. As soon as Taylor fulfills the requirements: perform, pose, and smile, she vanishes.

The Ghosting: reputation (Taylor's Version)

There will be no explanation. There will just be reputation.

reputation (Taylor's Version) will be announced on the last night of the London show run, accompanied by a shocking break up announcement that fuels the media's relentless speculation on her personal life.

The Castle: Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version)

Taylor stands on the balcony of her castle, surveying her land. This is the same castle that she moved into during reputation era, as depicted in LWYMMD. She's wearing TS hairclips, and has returned home. This scene represents the US Eras Tour Leg Part II, and the announcement and release of Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version). It's nearly dawn, and there is a Full Blood Moon above the castle. Interestingly enough, the October full moon is often called a Blood Moon, and the full moon this October is the day before Miami N1 (October 18th). I've been theorizing that Miami, Florida!!! is her real home for a long time, and TTPD sure did confirm that.

The Dragons: Karma

The final scene of Bejeweled is a wide shot of Taylor's Castle, where we can see three dragons setting the castle aflame. This is Karma - karma is a fire in your house. I'm not sure exactly what form Karma will manifest itself in, whether that's the missing TS6 album, a record label, exposing the industry for how abusive it is, coming out, or something else entirely. But, in the words of our mastermind, Karma is real.